sideways infinity
Jan. 27th, 2016 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spottoEight is a very lucky number in a certain culture.
Not quite for this particular character unfortunately. I consider this chapter the chapter OF NO RETURN or "EVERYTHING YOU WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT X BUT WERE TOO AFRAID TO ASK" or "hello darkness my old friend" or "shit happens"
basically, from this point on we be going into overdrive!
fun fact, I did not plan a majority of this chapter yet it ends up influencing basically the rest of the story (that's right, story, not just the arc) so yeah... also this is a VERY LONG chapter, as will 9 and especially 10
10 is the last chapter of this arc, so yeah. I will not be posting arc 2 until I finish arc 2, whenever that may be. I am currently on chapter nineteen though, so it might not be too long. (Arc 2 will be more than ten chapters unlike 1 tho, so there's that)
BUT ENOUGH RANDOM STUFF, LET ME FLING THIS BONE AT YOU
8
Horns were blaring over and over again, attempting to one-up the one previously like a shouting match among a bunch of children that threatened to never stop unless they were given free candy this instant. Blake slumped in her seat, the cars not having moved for what seemed like hours. In reality it had only been around twenty minutes, but she had switched through four radio stations since and she had not had a single opportunity to press on the gas pedal lest she wanted to rear-end the family in front of her. Next time, Blake was not going to take the afternoon shift and not stay for the evenings, the rush-hour traffic having kept the cars back ever since there was an accident involving a person driving a scooter who had merged far too slowly into the lane, causing a six-car pileup. Blake could still see the police lights in the distance. She tapped on her steering wheel, having become familiar with every single vehicles' license plates by now, and having been given the finger by a spoiled preteen in the car next to her who had done so for, as far as Blake could tell, absolutely no reason.
On the bright side, the second week without Weiss went smoothly. There was an incident where Ruby had consumed too many cookies, presumably without Weiss being there to prevent her from doing so, and Yang who had not been able to prevent her what with not being her cellmate. She had spent one day in the hospital ward thanks to that, and now the canteen workers were warned not to ever sell her cookies. There was even a sign posted up with Ruby's photo, with the bold words 'NO COOKIES' underneath. Ruby was devastated. Another incident involving contraband that was found in Yang's cell, but it was eventually determined to belong to her cellmate, Velvet. It wasn't a vial of dust or glass or anything, simply a pair of pliers, but even a pair of pliers was not allowed in the facility.
Blake was wondering if this was opportune time to catch up with her sleep, having only managed three hours of sleep last night what with the cars practically being parked at this point. Her phone vibrated, a name popped up that she recognized but someone who very rarely ever called or messaged her. The name was Taurus.
"Yes?" Blake answered. This was most likely a message for work. When was it ever not for work?
"There's another job for you. Do it by tonight. Details in the message." With a click, the call was over as soon as it began.
Just like that, Blake knew she wasn't going to get much sleep tonight either.
-
At around five minutes past midnight, at a rooftop facing an intersection on a ratty, sketchy neighbourhood, there stood a woman dressed in black. Two cat ears protruded from her head, twitching every few minutes an unfamiliar noise was heard. Her face was mostly covered by a scarf, covering her head nose down, but her golden eyes glowed in the darkness. Her scarf fluttered in the strong gusts of wind during this cold wintry night. She wore quite possibly the most heavy-duty gloves possible, which were almost as thick as hockey gloves as well as pitch-black military boots that somehow made nary a noise. The building across from the rooftop was a usually busy club, but on this day for whatever reason business was slowed. Regardless, its neon signs continued to flicker on and off attempting to catch any commuter's attention to influence their decisions for the night.
With great dexterity through her gloves Blake was able to operate her phone, returning to the message she had received five hours earlier. There she re-read a profile of a brunette man with green eyes, heavy yet built build who stood even taller than that insufferable captain from a few weeks back. It listed the outfits he preferred to wear and the areas he preferred to mingle at, but tonight it was known that he would be at this club doing who-knows-what. Blake had seen this man before, who affiliated himself with those she worked for, so whatever he had done must've been quite serious if he was the target of a hit. The only explanation for that was a small blurb on her phone, mentioning he had been spotted making a deal with a hated rival, and he was likely about to sell out many of his former comrades. It didn't matter. Blake hardly ever needed a reason to do this job. She stretched her fingers for a bit before pulling out a suitcase, opening it up and picking up a pistol.
Most people who did this type of work required an actual state-of-the-art sniper rifle, which was both loud and difficult to conceal. Blake instead attached a scope to her pistol, which was also outfitted with a silencer. She relied far more on her marksmanship skills over the weapon itself, which for her work only needed to be small and quiet. She knew exactly where she wanted to place her shot, especially in akin to where the target was positioned. The bullet had to stay inside his body and be in as an unrecognizable condition as possible. She would even retrieve any shell-casings she dropped. Tonight would be no different. After only half-an-hour of waiting, which was quite short compared to some of her other jobs where she'd have to stick around for hours upon hours, the target exited the club, appearing to be speaking to a woman for a few minutes until the lady finally parted ways. Before he was even a few metres away, the man dropped to the floor, blood pooling onto the sidewalk and streaming into the storm drain.
Back on the rooftop, not a single soul remained.
-
The alarm rung at a lovely hour of five am. An arm stretched out, about to smash onto the snooze button when the door to the bedroom was knocked on several times.
"Blake! You're taking the morning shift right? You gotta get up!" A man's voice was heard.
Blake adored sleep, but at the same time hated it. Nothing was achieved during the unconscious hours, yet without it she'd have no energy throughout the day. If only there was some sort of way to inject energy into her body without ever needing a wink of shut-eye, her life would be far more satisfying. She shuffled in her bed, wondering how her roommate had managed to wake before her. Most likely he didn't and just hadn't gone to bed yet. Her roommate was known to play video games until the most ungodly of hours, which meant everyone who lived in this place was not getting enough sleep. Blake was pleased she wasn't the odd one out. She finally sat up, stretching as far as she could as if she was a cat, which she almost was.
After a few more minutes she stepped out of her room, a blonde with very frizzy spiky hair and a visible golden tail was sitting at the kitchen table, consuming a bowl of cereal. His attention was focused entirely on the small TV set that sat on the counter as he ate. Blake spent some time washing up in the bathroom before exiting to the exact same scene. Having had barely three hours of sleep, Blake decided she needed a much larger breakfast than just a bowl of cereal, and decided to cook instead. She cracked open some eggs and opened a few cans of tuna. Most people hated this combination but she would never say no to fish for breakfast.
"Sun, did you even sleep last night?" Blake asked as her eggs began to sizzle in the pan.
"Nah, and I'm not planning to until the next night," He flashed a smile, "Neptune's got tickets to the game, and we wanna head to the warm-ups in the morning to watch the team practice."
Sun Wukong was Blake's roommate, a man she had met three years ago while she had entered training to become the correctional officer she had become now. At the time she was assigned to a male facility, a minimum security one. She had no idea how Sun had landed inside when all he had committed was pick-pocketing and petty thievery, but that was apparently enough for him to get a felony, and Blake, being one of the few guards who had not treated him like utter trash, got along with him very well. In fact, Yang was pretty much his equivalent for her current job now. After which, in order for Sun to get back on track in life in general, his best friend Neptune told him his uncle recently finished building a huge condominium in the west side, and that he could rent the penthouse on the top floor at a discounted price. Unfortunately being both a condo and a penthouse, even discounted Sun had no way to afford it. He did however, have a friend with a day job who he could share the rent with, and so Sun bugged Blake and bugged her some more, until eventually she finally gave in. Blake's previous residence was a very run-down bachelor pad being cheap as cheap could be, and Blake could easily have afforded better but never bothered to because she was rarely home.
After she finished frying her eggs she sat down with her plate next to Sun, wondering what on earth he was so invested into on the television. It was the news, "Not like you to be watching the news."
"I was hoping to watch some highlights but the sports channels have golf and shit right now," Sun explained, "So maybe after they talk about whatever crash or horrible thing the government did they might talk about last night's game."
"A back-to-back? Sounds rough."
"Yeah, but the backup's real strong this year, I've got confidence," Sun shook his fists, eager to watch the game today.
Unfortunately for Sun the news kept coming with its news stories, not having reached its less important sports segment yet. Sun continued to grumble and Blake asked why he didn't just watch the highlights on the internet, but Sun mentioned something about the website being the worst piece of junk ever and not working half the time, so they had to rely on older technology for his entertainment. Blake glanced at the clock and noticed that she had to leave soon, and was about to get up to clean up the plates when the news went onto another story that was a lot more relevant.
"In other news, known gang member Jordan "Boomer" Bennett was shot dead last night just before one in the morning at the corner of Teddy Way and 45th. It is not known whether this was a targeted hit, but police are asking the public for any information."
Sun was fed up with the news, "You kiddin'? Not known whether it was targeted? Of course it was! He was a gangster! Someone didn't just shoot for no reason and just happened to kill him, especially since he was only shot once! Really if you're gonna hold my highlights hostage at least have non-stupid news stories!"
The news continued, "Jordan Bennett, 41, left behind a wife and young daughter. Coming up next, sports! A spectacular finish by the Vale Grimm last night left spectators buzzing! Stay tuned after these messages."
"Finally!" Sun threw his arms up just as he heard the noise of glass shattering behind him.
He turned around, Blake's eyes still stuck upon the screen, "Uh Blake? What's up? Something wrong?"
"N-nothing," Blake cleared her throat, "Sorry I just uh, the plate slipped from my hands."
She crouched down to clean up the mess, but in her hurry a shard managed to cut through her palm below her thumb. She brought the wound to her mouth in instinct, making sure no blood reached the ground or was left on the shards. Sun noticed and crouched down as well, gathering the pieces into one pile, "Whoa Blake, that's gotta hurt. Here I'll clean up and you get that fixed and get to work. Don't wanna be late now do you?"
"Y-yeah. Thanks Sun, I'll be going now," Blake quickly grabbed some gauze in the bathroom to cover up her injury before bolting through the door.
As soon as she entered her car she pulled out her phone, a different one from the one yesterday. She had her regular phone which she used for friends and her day job, and many disposable ones for her night job. Her phone from yesterday for instance was now in many tiny pieces in the trash compactor. Right now she was dialing on her regular phone, her foot incessantly tapping the floor until finally someone picked up.
"Hello? Vale Correctional."
Blake took a deep breath, "Yes I can't make it in today, can you give my shift to someone else?"
"Belladonna?" The voice responded, "That's rare. You always keep up with your shifts."
"Sorry it's bit of an emergency," Blake said.
"Alright, well considering how diligent you work this is fine," A moment passed, "Okay but can you make it in for the afternoon?"
Blake nodded, though that obviously wasn't going to seen by the receiver, "Yes."
"Excellent, alright then. Have a good morning." There was a click and Blake put down the phone.
She finally noticed how much her heart was racing, how twitchy her limbs were, and her ears were hyper-sensitive, twisting rapidly to take in every sound she heard. Blake took in many deep breaths, attempting to calm herself but the breaths came out staggered and shallow. She spent a few minutes with her head resting on the steering wheel, wondering what went wrong when the obvious solution popped into her mind. She threw on her seatbelt and started the car, praying her nerves wouldn't impede her driving too much. Evidently it didn't work as she screeched out of the driveway, one destination in mind.
-
A man with vibrant red hair stood at the balcony of his condominium, watching over the city from his twenty-ninth floor unit. He was wearing a black suit, with sunglasses bordered by white rims on his face. Two black horns were situated on the top of his head as the wind rippled through his hair. He leaned over, arms resting on the rails, watching the vehicles zip by on the streets, the people like ants walking through heading to wherever they need to go. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the city, scanning the citizens, his mind busy with however else they could pull the strings, so that maybe those specific citizens may not be walking where they are now, or maybe those cars wouldn't exist. Otherwise the scenery was always the same and nothing seemed special or salvagable from it. The trees that lined the mountains to the north could be torn down, or if the city disagreed, burnt down if he wanted to see whatever was behind them. Fortunately for the trees and others who do enjoy the view, he had no plans to be doing such things. The idea was that he was capable and had the ability to do so. It was still a slow day today, and so he remained standing on his balcony, watching lives go by while he stood idly by.
His moment of peace was interrupted when a loud banging came from the door. Taking his time to readjust his blazer, he took purposely slow steps, letting the knocks ring out before he took a peek through the peephole. He recognized those cat ears, carefully unlocking the door. He was about to pull the door open gently when instead a great force from the other side slammed it in, missing his head by millimetres. Oh, the cat was mad.
"Adam!" She stormed in, ears erect and pupils nary a slit. Her glare was deadly, her emotions ready to pounce and tear off the horns on Adam's head.
Adam gestured Blake towards his sofa, "What's the matter Blake? You seem very worked up."
"You gave me the wrong target!" She accused, not taking his offer to take a seat at all. No, she remained standing, stance still very aggressive, legs apart and chest open.
"Wrong target? The information came from the Alpha, so I assure you that's impossible."
Blake could feel her nails beginning to dig into her palms, but she was too infuriated to register the pain, "Then why did the target have a family!?"
"Oh, he did?" Adam checked his phone which he hadn't gotten to destroying yet, "Hm, I see. I'm supposed to relay this message to you after you eliminated the target."
He scrolled through his phone, the next words that came out of him made Blake's blood run cold, "Seems the Alpha did that on purpose."
"Why?" Blake asked, her words no longer carried the fury they had before, and the question had barely any volume to it.
"He has not been pleased about your last assignment," Adam continued reading through his message, "The Schnee heiress. It's been three months and she's still alive."
He dropped his arm to his side, still holding his phone but no longer reading off of it, "I've been wondering that too myself. You've had ample opportunity but that girl still continues to breathe. Have you been finding difficulty?"
"You know I wasn't happy being given that assignment in the first place Adam," Blake started, "I rather keep my hits and my day job separate."
"And? What's your excuse?" His sunglasses kept his eyes from sight, not allowing Blake to see exactly his expression.
Blake crossed her arms, glancing away at the balcony instead, "I was looking for an opening that wouldn't jeopardize my career. I can have it done soon."
"I certainly hope so for your sake Blake. The Alpha isn't going to give you hits with your preference if you continue to lag on this target. If the Schnee girl is released before you can get to her, you will be in huge trouble."
"I didn't think I'd need to prioritize it," Blake explained, "Her sentence doesn't end anytime soon."
Adam set down his phone on the table, "Regardless, I don't see the problem with your latest target. Does it matter that he had family? Anyone you eliminate who doesn't would likely still have grieving friends. What difference does it make?"
"He had a young daughter," Blake reasoned.
"See, it's these morals of yours that is holding you back," Adam mentioned, "You want to be a successful hitman in this business? You need to drop the sensitivity."
Blake's voice was barely above a whisper, almost like she didn't want to reveal these next words, "Maybe I don't want to."
"What was that?" Adam knew Blake wasn't trying to conceal her words. She had to know he too was a faunus, and though he lacked her sharp cat ears he still had better hearing than a human.
"It's—it's nothing. Sorry, just spouting nonsense."
The tall faunus placed his hands on Blake's shoulders, forcing her to hold eye contact with him, "Blake, remember your origin. Remember that we as a part of the White Fang fight for our livelihoods. What we do is not wrong in the large scheme of things. This is how far we must go if anyone is to ever listen, to ever learn that the faunus and the White Fang are not to be pushed around. You know as well as I do, having been raised by this organization."
Blake made the tiniest of nods, "I understand."
"Besides, you know what happens when people try to leave the White Fang. They only leave in body bags," He let go of Blake, "That man, Bennett, learnt this the hard way."
"What?" Blake's eyes widened, "I thought he was about to backstab the White Fang to ally with a rival—"
Adam shook his head, "I suppose the information you were given was completely fabricated."
Blake bit her thumb as she looked away a second time, "I—is it possible to at least take a break from these assignments?"
"The Alpha did give me a message, a proposition," Adam once again picked up his phone, "If you eliminate the Schnee heiress, you will not be given another target for six months."
The cat faunus took a deep breath, turning around to head back out the door, "Okay. That is, I suppose that's fair."
"On the contrary, it sounds pretty generous to me," Adam commented, "Blake, you are one of the White Fang's most efficient hitmen. The police do not have a single clue what happened to any of your targets. The more work you get the better it is for the White Fang. I suppose the Schnee heiress is an especially important case, but we will definitely be less effective with you on hiatus."
"I'll—I'll think about it," Blake said, "Look I've got to go Adam. I'm sorry for storming in."
Adam smiled, a seemingly genuine smile but without seeing his eyes Blake could never be sure, "It's alright. If you ever need anyone do remember I'm here for you Blake."
Just as Blake was about to shut the door, Adam's hand grabbed onto the side, keeping it from closing, "Wait a minute. I almost forgot."
"What is it Adam? I really need to go."
"Jordan Bennett's funeral is next Sunday, nine am sharp. Remember to be there, and be sure to bring your tissues," He reminded.
"That's—do I have to show up?" Blake asked, uneasy.
Adam nodded, "Of course. Bennett was still technically one of us when he was killed. If we do not arrive it will look suspicious."
"I think I have work then so I'll probably have to miss it."
"Blake," Adam pulled her back, grabbing her wrist, "You can spare one shift for the late Mr. Bennett, can't you? It's the least you can do after you brought on his funeral in the first place." Another smile, but though its purpose was to calm Blake, it did nothing of the sort, the exact opposite actually.
Blake slid out of Adam's grasp, "Alright, I'll be there." Her words sounded hollow, but she still let them out.
"Good, have a nice day Blake," Adam adjusted his sunglasses and shut the door, leaving Blake to stand there in the hallway.
She didn't move for quite a while, staring at the door, her ears noticing that her heart was still pumping with the ferocity of an actual beast, like a lion or tiger. She rubbed both her arms, wondering what she should do. The last thing she needed was to be forced to attend this funeral, where there would be crying relatives and people giving eulogies of what a great person she had murdered. She always did have qualms about her work, but when she was in-training with the White Fang they determined that her best quality was her shot and efficiency and so she'd made an excellent assassin. If all she had to do was shoot someone she'd never knew, never even seeing their face, she could almost stomach her night job, but now her thoughts shifted into a worldwind of scenarios. What if this wasn't the first time she was given false information? What if all her previous hits were of people who weren't as horrible as the Alpha had described? Her aloof atittude towards her targets was instead leaving a gaping hole in her chest. If only she could be what Adam described, one without sensitivity, as cold as she could possibly be. None of this could be a problem. She would not be standing here, realizing just how many individual strands of fluff was in the carpets or anything of the like.
Her afternoon shift would start soon. Blake finally stepped away from Adam's apartment, heading back to her vehicle. If she was able to do one more hit on a person she didn't even like, she could spend the next six months finding a way to escape the White Fang. She wasn't sure how, and at her predicament she'd likely end up six-feet-under than home free, but at this point she didn't want to be involved with them anymore. It wasn't worth it. Even Adam, her childhood friend, spoke in words that felt so wrong. Instead of the boy she grew up with struggling through the inequality of life, he spoke of work as the highest priority and treated Blake not of a friend but like an employee. She wasn't sure if she could trust him anymore.
Blake left with so many questions and little answers. There wasn't an easy way out anymore.
-
"Ruby! Oh my god!" Yang's face was being pushed away, Ruby scuffling with her sister once again, "No! Don't waste the puddin—Ruby! No! Sto—Oh no it's all over the place!"
Ruby giggled, trying to steal her pudding back. Fortunately for her it was Yang's pudding that instead of entering her sister's mouth, was now dripping down her shirt and the table. She was going to win this battle and leave her older sister with nothing, as she deserved. It had been over two weeks since Weiss had been away, and while Ruby missed her she was able to get away with shenanigans far easier without her here. Unfortunately Weiss wasn't around to see her sneak a whole garbage bag of sugar cookies into her cell, and unfortunately with Weiss not screaming at her not to eat it all at once, Ruby did, and now was banned from the delicious dessert. The next best thing was pudding and the last thing she needed was to lose that too, thus the semi-wrestling fight she was having with Yang who too enjoyed pudding so much she'd steal others.
Even if it was stolen Ruby was in a good mood. This morning was visiting hours, and their father finally managed to find time to make the commute all the way here for a visit. He was incredibly positive and did not mention anything about the reason Ruby or Yang was here, and even brought new photos for them to put up. It was unfortunate he could not bring Zwei, but Ruby was given her cute wolf plushie she had slept with since she was four, and that made sleeping alone far more comfortable. The guards really didn't have to examine it to the point of almost opening it up to make sure there was no contraband though. Ruby would have been crushed if they had let Wolfies' fluff seep out like guts and blood, killing her beloved stuffed animal. She wondered if Weiss would have liked to see the plushie as well or if she'd scream, but either one would have been fine. She just missed the sound of her voice oddly enough, even if for anyone else they'd tell you you were crazy for missing the Ice Queen's voice.
That's right, the Ice Queen, Weiss' new nickname. Ever since the incident where she had ended the police academy's field trip during a chilly snowy day in the yard, everyone had begun referring to her as the Ice Queen. She was cold, calculated and no one could give her orders. Ruby too had earned some respect as well with her response to the Captain, but it was not to the extent of Weiss who had actually taken the fall just to save the others from both a colossal bigot and the cold. Weiss would have been quite satisfied whenever she came back, which Ruby if she was counting was about five or six more days. She had debated drawing in those lines stereotypical prisoners made to count the days they would be freed, but Weiss again, would've probably yelled at her.
If only that tiny Weiss voice in the back of her head was there when she ate all those cookies. Nonetheless, the day of the Great Cookie Purge was as delicious as could be, and she would miss them until she was freed. In which case she wanted to bake her own cookies and bring them to Weiss who she had figured out by now was staying longer than just the few months she and Yang had left. She had never seen Weiss visited a single time, or even sent a letter a single time, so Ruby was going to be the first.
Yang finally let go of her pudding, feeling bummed out that her own had went all over the place, "You win today sis, but tomorrow, I take the war!"
"Yes!" Ruby lifted up her spoon in triumph.
Yang began cleaning up with some napkins, "I'm surprised none of the guards even stopped us. We were really going at it there."
"Maybe it was Blake watching us," Ruby took a look around but kept her pudding close and guarded just in case, "Oh there she is!"
Blake stood there, but her eyes were seemingly watching beyond Yang and Ruby. The two turned around to see what was so interesting behind them but found nothing at all notable, and when they turned back Blake's stare remained. Yang got up, wanting to take a shower soon due to the pudding explosion, and decided to check out how Blake was doing first. Was she not sleeping again? Yang was hoping Blake would take care herself better after last time, but Blake was stubborn. If there was anything amiss she would not be surprised if the guard had just gone without sleep again.
"Hey Blakey!" Yang called out, walking towards the guard.
She did not respond.
"Blake?" Yang waved in front of her face.
Blake continued to stare off into the distance.
"Yo Blake!" She now flapped her hands in front of Blake, a gesture she knew annoyed her.
Nope, no one was home.
Finally Yang gave up and began shaking Blake, "Hey! Have you been missing sleep again?"
Blake blinked, wobbling her head to bring herself back to reality, "Yang? Do you need something?"
Ruby, now having finished her pudding and thus no longer needing to guard it with her life, came up to Blake as well, "Is Blake okay?"
"I'm fine." "Not at all!"
The two looked at one another, having responded differently at exactly same time, "There's nothing wrong with me Yang."
"Were you daydreaming or somethin? Geez. I don't know anyone else who could be lost in a trance as long as you," Yang shrugged, lifting her head back.
What Yang didn't know was how right she was. Blake was actually daydreaming, or rather going through her plan in her head for the hundredth time. She was thinking of the best ways to take Weiss out without suspicion. In a prison, this meant faking suicide was the best bet, alternatively a drug overdose but that would be difficult to achieve with Weiss locked up tight in segregation. She wondered how different her situation would've been had she purposely slowed in returning to sedate Weiss back when she was on the influence of dust. She had inhaled so much it was a possibility it could've killed her and that method would've been much more efficient than the plans she had now. Unfortunately that also meant Ruby would've likely at least been charged with manslaughter, which was not something Blake would have allowed to happen. The only way to avoid such a fate was if Ruby didn't confess at all and thus Weiss had inadvertently killed herself, but she knew Ruby would've suffered from far too much guilt to not admit it. Ruby had been refreshingly honest her entire stay here.
Blake assured Yang, "Yes, I was daydreaming in fact. Sorry, I'll keep my mind on the job."
"Wow, I wonder what Blake Belladonna thinks about. Hmm, maybe frolicking in the flowers? Nah, too sappy. Maybe you think of yourself as a hero saving people from a burning building? That sounds more like something Ruby would think of. Hm, I'm drawing a blank!"
Ruby felt offended, "Hey! How do you know my daydreams?"
"Rubes, you are so predictable."
Even though Yang had interrupted her thoughts, Blake was glad she had. The chaotic nature of her job allowed so much distraction from her night prowls and hits. It was one reason she took so many shifts, to get away from the White Fang and the underground world. It still wasn't ideal, what with her casually racist co-workers and Weiss in general, but it was preferable to a dangerous terrorist group constantly watching her over her shoulders. Once Weiss was gone she would've killed two birds with one stone, the White Fang leaving her alone and well, Weiss gone. She was the daughter of the hated Schnee Patriarch, who ran the biggest dust cartel in the nation. Numerous faunus were reliant on the drug, leading them to committing so many crimes to obtain more just so this man and his family could be richer and richer. To the public he owned a metalworks industry, which had good business but was nowhere as profitable as the dust. With Weiss eliminated the Schnee Syndicate would lose such a significant chunk of their future. She didn't need much to justify the hit, so she figured with Weiss still alone and vulnerable in the other building, the opportunity was now.
She watched the two carefree sisters return to their lunch, having eaten the pudding first just because they could. If only she could have had a family as close as theirs, being so happy despite their situation. It was a lingering jealousy that blossomed the moment she met Yang, who had always raved about her wonderful family, but such a luxury was something Blake could never have.
-
The night, a time when criminals exited their nests to complete the work for the day. Those innocents who remained, going home at such ridiculous hours were always at a risk. This was also the time the police were at their most heightened of sense of security, knowing that criminals were out there and had to be caught. Their job was done the moment these people were behind bars, their fates were held by others' responsible. But life was never that black and white. There would be those innocents who perhaps in terms of allowing others much better fates, deserved to die, and those criminals who might somehow be benefiting society in ways no one could predict, but they were few and far between. The line between hunter and hunted was not just fuzzy, but not even a line. It was more like a circle, whose turn was it to leap into the ring first? Who would make it out alive? Who was responsible for one's livelihood?
Blake held Weiss' in her palm that night. She had rope tied to her waist, in place of the handcuffs she usually wielded. The night guards were elsewhere, most likely taking a break and Cellblock C was a place they rarely entered, not expecting a single escape from such a high-security building. Blake too was technically taking a shift as well, which meant she was supposed to be here. She took soundless steps towards Weiss' cell, even in her thick boots only professionals could do. She even wore her signature black scarf to hide half her face. It wasn't necessary, but she never felt comfortable doing her hits without it. The lights remained off, her faunus eyesight enough for her job. As soon as she made it to the door she peeked through the small, square window and saw Weiss exactly as she expected, sound asleep. She was even facing the wall, leaving her back open to attack, though one could argue she was hiding her soft fleshy bits of the front by sleeping in such position. However, if you weren't facing outwards you would never see the monster coming, never detecting a thing.
Blake wanted to finish this as fast as possible and decided against strangulation or smothering. Even if it was Weiss, that was too cruel. She only needed to snap the heiress' thin neck, and then hang her up with the rope. It would look just like she broke her neck hanging herself, and no one would even suspect a thing. Suicides in prison occurred on average once to twice a year. She creaked the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind her just in case anyone was wandering through the halls and saw a door open wide. Her golden eyes glowed in the darkness, hungry for its prey, nearing the small girl who slumbered seemingly peacefully in bed. She would never see this coming.
She took one last step to stand next to the bed when she heard a noise her foot was not supposed to make. She looked down and saw she had stepped on a piece of paper. It was still odd that those in Cellblock C were not allowed books, but they were still allowed to write whatever they pleased on paper. She could never understand why that was, and felt to humour Weiss since allowing her to live a few more minutes wasn't that big of a deal. She picked up the slip of paper, reading through what was another letter. What was she trying to do, still attempting to get her father to pull her out of this? Instead of neatly contained paragraphs with the utmost of vocabulary, the words were scribbled on clumsily, lines jumbled about and breaks too many to count. Blake began from the top.
You've always taught me to be strong
hold your emotions inside
keep your head up, back straight
never show weakness to others
if someone was obviously beneath you
you would treat them like so
people so inadequate should not exist
right?
right?
a cold steely exterior is the schnee way
no matter where you are
or who you're with
here i am, within a cold steely exterior
against my will
what purpose is there to hold this shield
when no one is there at all?
time goes by, I stand still
time goes by some more
i've asked you to come visit
or i suppose, the proper term would be 'requested'
make time for someone like me
who is trapped in here, alone
even if my words reached you, you wouldn't come
i see that now
to you, i've always been beneath you
but you had always made time
for someone like me
no longer is that the case
no longer am i worth cutting into your precious time
no longer am i your daughter
is that it?
i am but a small, insignificant part of your life
no longer there to linger and sully your reputation
but you were my everything
and here i am
nothing
with nothing
and nothing
should not exist
Blake read the entire thing. She didn't understand why she never stopped. She read it a second time, a third time. Was this some sort of trick? She peered down at Weiss, who still slumbered as if nothing was wrong. This wasn't the only piece of paper strewn all over the floor. There were dozens, all of them Blake skimmed over but they were all generally the same thing. When you were by yourself with literally almost no contact with a single human being, one could be viable to go insane. This was the Schnee heiress. She was an absolute jerk who had no redeeming qualities. She held horrible opinions about faunus and would be mean to every single person she met. She'd never waste a breath on someone inferior unless it was to argue. What the hell was this? Blake could only feel enraged, not even knowing why she was so mad reading these letters. It wasn't because she actually felt sorry for her was it? Or was it because instead of being someone easy to kill Weiss suddenly and out of nowhere, had some resemblance of humanity that'd make the task all the more harder?
No. She came here to do a job. She wasn't about to be stopped. She needed the opening, to be freed from the White Fang. She only needed to commit one more murder and she would be out. If Weiss was dead it would be all the better for Blake. Besides, the letter was even asking for death. Blake was doing her a favour. With these numerous pieces of paper implying Weiss was already suicidal it'd make her death all the less suspicious. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. She felt for her rope, but realized a huge oversight.
There was no way Weiss could've obtained a rope from out of nowhere.
If she were to hang herself, it'd be some sort of item already inside the cell. The best bet was rolling up the blanket, but Weiss was slumbering, tucked in neatly underneath it. Her arms were laying on top, keeping the sheets close. She'd have to kill her first and then take the blanket, knowing the other way around would likely wake the heiress up. That was the last thing Blake needed. The faunus had to make sure the blanket would be strong enough to work as a noose, but when she felt it with her hands, the blanket was oddly damp. Was Weiss drooling?
No.
Blake's golden eyes adopted a whole new size.
They were tears.
No. No no no no no. Blake's hands were balled up into such tight fists they began to vibrate. This could not be happening. This was her out, her way to finally get away from the White Fang and Weiss had the nerve to be sympathetic now? Adam was right. If only she didn't have these stupid feelings, this sense of ethics, this faunus quality that kept most people decent. Why was she even a hitman if she had these emotions? Why did she even have this life? Why couldn't Weiss not have been in prison, in her own workplace, but out and about so she could simply just shoot her in the head, never learning anything about the person at all. Those were the simplest, easiest of kills. Not once had she ever killed a person with her bare hands. She just had to do something a little more complex, with someone she had talked to and seen every day in the last three months.
It was obvious why she was hesitating.
She opened her fists, her hands still quivering. She was going to force herself to do this. She had to. With Weiss dead the Schnee Syndicate would be weakened considerably. It was for the good of all faunus. It was for Blake's survival as a person. If she couldn't kill Weiss she wouldn't be able to kill anyone else, so many consequences dawning in her head after her most recent hit. She'd be saving all those unnamed lives with Weiss dead, when otherwise the Alpha would send her on more missions to take out those she knew nothing about. The countless lives outweighed this single one. Blake had to do it. She had to kill Weiss.
Her trembling uneasy hands wrapped themselves around Weiss' neck. Wait no, this wasn't how it was done. If she was to strangle the heiress it'd be like this, but snapping of a neck was different. She did whatever she could to pull her left hand away, her fingers vibrating and her heart pumping so fast it felt like it wanted to burst straight out of her chest. She could feel her own hands were damp now, sweat dribbling down every exposed part of her skin. She placed her left hand on Weiss' head. She just needed one twist and Weiss would be dead. One single twist.
She saw blue eyes.
Blake froze. She had to kill her now. She had been found out. She had to kill her now. She had to kill her. She had to—
Weiss was unmoving. She continued to stare at Blake, like she was hypnotized by her presence, like she was already dead. Her pupils never moved, not even slightly. They were deadset on Blake, as if judging her silently, as if waiting for her next move. Weiss did not struggle. She watched.
No. No she couldn't do this.
She could if Weiss was just a stranger she shot.
If Weiss was someone she knew, but hated.
If Weiss was asleep, vulnerable, never to see it coming.
But not like this, not with her watching, not with her eyes asking her to go ahead with it. Blake let go of Weiss' head, which fell softly back on the pillow. Weiss still did not move, in fact her eyes had closed once again, like she was only awake for a second. Now not only were Blake's hands and arms shaking, her whole body was. She was no longer angry, but a sob came over her that she did everything she could to withhold. It was not enough. She bit her lip as hard as possible so she could keep her composure, but it was not enough. She fell to her knees, lips bloody, nails digging into the ground so hard they broke, and she cried. Tears fell everywhere, falling onto the sheets of paper that littered the ground. She hated herself so much, for failing to do what she had been training her entire life to do, for failing to do what she had been doing for years. For having these emotions that held her back. But ultimately, she hated herself for wanting to kill Weiss. What was she even doing, working as a correctional officer when she was the biggest hypocrite of them all? Not even Weiss could match up to that.
And that same girl did not move an inch, as if she didn't notice anything happening at all.
-
It was raining.
Black umbrellas were a common sight at the cemetery that day. A priest had finished speaking his words, describing the deceased man as one who had so much potential who had also accomplished so much. He was a family man with his wife who loudly bawled throughout the wake, and an eight-year-old daughter he had loved very much. A few friends came up to tell stories of Boomer's life, when he had made them laugh or did some incredible feat. This would have otherwise been incredibly boring to someone who was almost a stranger had it not been the one person who caused this all to happen sitting at the very back of the seats, next to a redheaded man who still wore shades despite the overcast and rainy weather.
Blake's expression remained stone cold. She did not bring a single tissue, watching on as people finished with their words and they said their last goodbyes to Jordan Bennett. Soon the relatives and friends began leaving to mingle, waiting for the coffin to be lowered a little later. The seats were mostly empty, but a little girl remained, standing in front of the casket, holding a flower she placed on top. She stood there alone, staring. Blake wanted to leave immediately, but she was one of the last to walk up to the wooden box to leave her final words, and to not do so at all would not only be rude but also suspicious. Blake cursed under her breath silently, wishing that the young girl would have left to be with her mother by now, but there she continued to stand. There was nothing she could do but to approach the body next to her.
It was to her surprise that the girl spoke.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"An acquaintance," Blake responded, keeping her words short and brief. The more direct and blunt her answers, leaving barely an opening for further questioning, the sooner she could flee from this familiar sight.
The girl had the same brown hair and green eyes as the man in the casket, which made her presence all the more uncomfortable. Blake's ears hidden within her bow twitched nonstop, the only part of her body she allowed to succumb as nervous tics.
She continued, "Did you know daddy well?"
"No, I just saw him from time-to-time," Blake said, hoping the little girl wouldn't say too much more.
The girl placed one more flower on the casket, "Then how come you came?"
Blake was starting to believe a quick and easy exit from the area was no longer a possibility, inhaling a little more than normal to try to respond in a timely and typical manner, "Everybody who worked with him came."
"Does that mean you're not sad?"
"What? Of course I'm sad," Blake answered.
The girl kept staring at the coffin, remaining by Blake's side, "How come? You didn't know daddy much."
"It's always sad with someone dies," Blake needed to find some sort of way out of this conversation.
The girl looked down at her shoes, frowning, "Then I guess I'm not normal."
"What?" Blake turned towards the girl, eyebrows raised, now no longer looking for an out.
"Daddy's gone and I don't feel sad. Is something wrong with me?" Tears finally appeared on her face for all the wrong reasons.
Blake crouched down to the little girl's level, "No there's nothing wrong with you. Everyone grieves differently. You might not be sad now but maybe you'll be sad later."
"That's what mommy said," She wiped away a tear, "but mommy's wrong."
"Why is mommy wrong?" Blake was wondering if this girl was more fit to be an assassin than her, but that was not a very appropriate thought at the moment.
She shook her head, "Mommy shouldn't be sad either, like me."
"Why? Your daddy is gone. That would make anyone cry," Blake tried to reason with her.
"Because daddy was never home," She started, "when he was, he would always yell at mommy."
Oh. Well. That was unexpected. Then again this man was part of the White Fang, though he was trying to flee from it. Still, people in gangs weren't always the best of people. Blake knew by heart this fact. She wanted to drop eye contact with those innocent green eyes that drove nails into her heart every second she stared, but one could not be sincere without keeping it up.
She still tried to think of ways to convince the girl that she was mistaken, "But even so, your mommy loved your daddy very much. So that's why she's sad."
"No. I don't like that," the tears flowed ever harder, "After he goes away again and I leave my room, things would be broken like the TV or the flower vase. Mommy always looked so scared."
Blake really didn't need reasons to justify what she did. She really didn't. She was done this night job of hers and she really didn't want to know she had actually done something good by ending a life, "You're really not sad your daddy is gone?"
"If daddy's not there, that means mommy can wear t-shirts again, right?" The girl said, "Then that would make me happy."
T-shirts? That was an odd factoid to point out. Did he forbid her from wearing anything too provocative? Was this the type of man she had ripped from the world? But while initially Blake had been confused, it did not take long for her mind to put together exactly what the child meant. The yelling, the broken items, the short-sleeves repeated in her mind the few seconds she allowed before the silent pause would become too long and awkward. Finally, it clicked. The mother would hide her skin. She'd hide her skin to cover up anything that would be to done to her. This child couldn't possibly be implying something like that, could she? Maybe this man simply didn't like t-shirts.
Blake almost swallowed her tongue, unsettled at what might have occurred behind closed doors, "I-If your daddy went to jail, that would have been much better than this."
"But daddy never would. Mommy always fibs to the police when they come over. And they don't believe me," She shook her head again, "but daddy is stopped now."
Blake could say no more. They stood staring at the coffin before it was finally lowered into the ground several minutes later. The young daughter was summoned by her mother to leave, many people returning to their vehicles to drive away. Blake was the last person to remain, continuing to stare at the gravestone of her most recent murder. Adam stepped up next to her, taking a few glances at the headstone as well before having words himself.
He smiled, "Will you look at that? Looks like the Alpha chose a good target for you after all."
Blake said nothing.
"He really is generous. I'm glad we both work for that sort of man, don't you?"
Blake did not move.
Adam patted Blake on the back, "It's just like with that Schnee. No one will miss her either."
He stepped away, heading back the car to wait for Blake.
The rain poured ever harder, Blake's black attire soaking wet despite the umbrella she held. She didn't even have the willpower to keep it above her head, letting it pour onto her ears, hair, and face. The two biggest reasons she had to leave were now gone. Killing one another was never the right thing to do and yet she could not go through with it with Weiss. If her hits were all like the one she stood in front of, wouldn't ending Weiss' life be a favour to the world? Was her presence doing something to truly oppress or harm someone else? Were there countless more who needed to be taken out, so family members or friends who had been abused or otherwise taken advantage of would be free? She wasn't sure anymore, but she had decided days ago she didn't want to anymore, no matter the consequences. It was a dilemma she just couldn't escape.
When she raised her head to look towards the sky, she wasn't sure if the water splashing down her face was only rain. The pain embedded deep with her chest ached ever harder just like the rain that poured ever more. She didn't know when she would leave, but she also didn't know when her legs would ever move again.
Not quite for this particular character unfortunately. I consider this chapter the chapter OF NO RETURN or "EVERYTHING YOU WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT X BUT WERE TOO AFRAID TO ASK" or "hello darkness my old friend" or "shit happens"
basically, from this point on we be going into overdrive!
fun fact, I did not plan a majority of this chapter yet it ends up influencing basically the rest of the story (that's right, story, not just the arc) so yeah... also this is a VERY LONG chapter, as will 9 and especially 10
10 is the last chapter of this arc, so yeah. I will not be posting arc 2 until I finish arc 2, whenever that may be. I am currently on chapter nineteen though, so it might not be too long. (Arc 2 will be more than ten chapters unlike 1 tho, so there's that)
BUT ENOUGH RANDOM STUFF, LET ME FLING THIS BONE AT YOU
8
Horns were blaring over and over again, attempting to one-up the one previously like a shouting match among a bunch of children that threatened to never stop unless they were given free candy this instant. Blake slumped in her seat, the cars not having moved for what seemed like hours. In reality it had only been around twenty minutes, but she had switched through four radio stations since and she had not had a single opportunity to press on the gas pedal lest she wanted to rear-end the family in front of her. Next time, Blake was not going to take the afternoon shift and not stay for the evenings, the rush-hour traffic having kept the cars back ever since there was an accident involving a person driving a scooter who had merged far too slowly into the lane, causing a six-car pileup. Blake could still see the police lights in the distance. She tapped on her steering wheel, having become familiar with every single vehicles' license plates by now, and having been given the finger by a spoiled preteen in the car next to her who had done so for, as far as Blake could tell, absolutely no reason.
On the bright side, the second week without Weiss went smoothly. There was an incident where Ruby had consumed too many cookies, presumably without Weiss being there to prevent her from doing so, and Yang who had not been able to prevent her what with not being her cellmate. She had spent one day in the hospital ward thanks to that, and now the canteen workers were warned not to ever sell her cookies. There was even a sign posted up with Ruby's photo, with the bold words 'NO COOKIES' underneath. Ruby was devastated. Another incident involving contraband that was found in Yang's cell, but it was eventually determined to belong to her cellmate, Velvet. It wasn't a vial of dust or glass or anything, simply a pair of pliers, but even a pair of pliers was not allowed in the facility.
Blake was wondering if this was opportune time to catch up with her sleep, having only managed three hours of sleep last night what with the cars practically being parked at this point. Her phone vibrated, a name popped up that she recognized but someone who very rarely ever called or messaged her. The name was Taurus.
"Yes?" Blake answered. This was most likely a message for work. When was it ever not for work?
"There's another job for you. Do it by tonight. Details in the message." With a click, the call was over as soon as it began.
Just like that, Blake knew she wasn't going to get much sleep tonight either.
-
At around five minutes past midnight, at a rooftop facing an intersection on a ratty, sketchy neighbourhood, there stood a woman dressed in black. Two cat ears protruded from her head, twitching every few minutes an unfamiliar noise was heard. Her face was mostly covered by a scarf, covering her head nose down, but her golden eyes glowed in the darkness. Her scarf fluttered in the strong gusts of wind during this cold wintry night. She wore quite possibly the most heavy-duty gloves possible, which were almost as thick as hockey gloves as well as pitch-black military boots that somehow made nary a noise. The building across from the rooftop was a usually busy club, but on this day for whatever reason business was slowed. Regardless, its neon signs continued to flicker on and off attempting to catch any commuter's attention to influence their decisions for the night.
With great dexterity through her gloves Blake was able to operate her phone, returning to the message she had received five hours earlier. There she re-read a profile of a brunette man with green eyes, heavy yet built build who stood even taller than that insufferable captain from a few weeks back. It listed the outfits he preferred to wear and the areas he preferred to mingle at, but tonight it was known that he would be at this club doing who-knows-what. Blake had seen this man before, who affiliated himself with those she worked for, so whatever he had done must've been quite serious if he was the target of a hit. The only explanation for that was a small blurb on her phone, mentioning he had been spotted making a deal with a hated rival, and he was likely about to sell out many of his former comrades. It didn't matter. Blake hardly ever needed a reason to do this job. She stretched her fingers for a bit before pulling out a suitcase, opening it up and picking up a pistol.
Most people who did this type of work required an actual state-of-the-art sniper rifle, which was both loud and difficult to conceal. Blake instead attached a scope to her pistol, which was also outfitted with a silencer. She relied far more on her marksmanship skills over the weapon itself, which for her work only needed to be small and quiet. She knew exactly where she wanted to place her shot, especially in akin to where the target was positioned. The bullet had to stay inside his body and be in as an unrecognizable condition as possible. She would even retrieve any shell-casings she dropped. Tonight would be no different. After only half-an-hour of waiting, which was quite short compared to some of her other jobs where she'd have to stick around for hours upon hours, the target exited the club, appearing to be speaking to a woman for a few minutes until the lady finally parted ways. Before he was even a few metres away, the man dropped to the floor, blood pooling onto the sidewalk and streaming into the storm drain.
Back on the rooftop, not a single soul remained.
-
The alarm rung at a lovely hour of five am. An arm stretched out, about to smash onto the snooze button when the door to the bedroom was knocked on several times.
"Blake! You're taking the morning shift right? You gotta get up!" A man's voice was heard.
Blake adored sleep, but at the same time hated it. Nothing was achieved during the unconscious hours, yet without it she'd have no energy throughout the day. If only there was some sort of way to inject energy into her body without ever needing a wink of shut-eye, her life would be far more satisfying. She shuffled in her bed, wondering how her roommate had managed to wake before her. Most likely he didn't and just hadn't gone to bed yet. Her roommate was known to play video games until the most ungodly of hours, which meant everyone who lived in this place was not getting enough sleep. Blake was pleased she wasn't the odd one out. She finally sat up, stretching as far as she could as if she was a cat, which she almost was.
After a few more minutes she stepped out of her room, a blonde with very frizzy spiky hair and a visible golden tail was sitting at the kitchen table, consuming a bowl of cereal. His attention was focused entirely on the small TV set that sat on the counter as he ate. Blake spent some time washing up in the bathroom before exiting to the exact same scene. Having had barely three hours of sleep, Blake decided she needed a much larger breakfast than just a bowl of cereal, and decided to cook instead. She cracked open some eggs and opened a few cans of tuna. Most people hated this combination but she would never say no to fish for breakfast.
"Sun, did you even sleep last night?" Blake asked as her eggs began to sizzle in the pan.
"Nah, and I'm not planning to until the next night," He flashed a smile, "Neptune's got tickets to the game, and we wanna head to the warm-ups in the morning to watch the team practice."
Sun Wukong was Blake's roommate, a man she had met three years ago while she had entered training to become the correctional officer she had become now. At the time she was assigned to a male facility, a minimum security one. She had no idea how Sun had landed inside when all he had committed was pick-pocketing and petty thievery, but that was apparently enough for him to get a felony, and Blake, being one of the few guards who had not treated him like utter trash, got along with him very well. In fact, Yang was pretty much his equivalent for her current job now. After which, in order for Sun to get back on track in life in general, his best friend Neptune told him his uncle recently finished building a huge condominium in the west side, and that he could rent the penthouse on the top floor at a discounted price. Unfortunately being both a condo and a penthouse, even discounted Sun had no way to afford it. He did however, have a friend with a day job who he could share the rent with, and so Sun bugged Blake and bugged her some more, until eventually she finally gave in. Blake's previous residence was a very run-down bachelor pad being cheap as cheap could be, and Blake could easily have afforded better but never bothered to because she was rarely home.
After she finished frying her eggs she sat down with her plate next to Sun, wondering what on earth he was so invested into on the television. It was the news, "Not like you to be watching the news."
"I was hoping to watch some highlights but the sports channels have golf and shit right now," Sun explained, "So maybe after they talk about whatever crash or horrible thing the government did they might talk about last night's game."
"A back-to-back? Sounds rough."
"Yeah, but the backup's real strong this year, I've got confidence," Sun shook his fists, eager to watch the game today.
Unfortunately for Sun the news kept coming with its news stories, not having reached its less important sports segment yet. Sun continued to grumble and Blake asked why he didn't just watch the highlights on the internet, but Sun mentioned something about the website being the worst piece of junk ever and not working half the time, so they had to rely on older technology for his entertainment. Blake glanced at the clock and noticed that she had to leave soon, and was about to get up to clean up the plates when the news went onto another story that was a lot more relevant.
"In other news, known gang member Jordan "Boomer" Bennett was shot dead last night just before one in the morning at the corner of Teddy Way and 45th. It is not known whether this was a targeted hit, but police are asking the public for any information."
Sun was fed up with the news, "You kiddin'? Not known whether it was targeted? Of course it was! He was a gangster! Someone didn't just shoot for no reason and just happened to kill him, especially since he was only shot once! Really if you're gonna hold my highlights hostage at least have non-stupid news stories!"
The news continued, "Jordan Bennett, 41, left behind a wife and young daughter. Coming up next, sports! A spectacular finish by the Vale Grimm last night left spectators buzzing! Stay tuned after these messages."
"Finally!" Sun threw his arms up just as he heard the noise of glass shattering behind him.
He turned around, Blake's eyes still stuck upon the screen, "Uh Blake? What's up? Something wrong?"
"N-nothing," Blake cleared her throat, "Sorry I just uh, the plate slipped from my hands."
She crouched down to clean up the mess, but in her hurry a shard managed to cut through her palm below her thumb. She brought the wound to her mouth in instinct, making sure no blood reached the ground or was left on the shards. Sun noticed and crouched down as well, gathering the pieces into one pile, "Whoa Blake, that's gotta hurt. Here I'll clean up and you get that fixed and get to work. Don't wanna be late now do you?"
"Y-yeah. Thanks Sun, I'll be going now," Blake quickly grabbed some gauze in the bathroom to cover up her injury before bolting through the door.
As soon as she entered her car she pulled out her phone, a different one from the one yesterday. She had her regular phone which she used for friends and her day job, and many disposable ones for her night job. Her phone from yesterday for instance was now in many tiny pieces in the trash compactor. Right now she was dialing on her regular phone, her foot incessantly tapping the floor until finally someone picked up.
"Hello? Vale Correctional."
Blake took a deep breath, "Yes I can't make it in today, can you give my shift to someone else?"
"Belladonna?" The voice responded, "That's rare. You always keep up with your shifts."
"Sorry it's bit of an emergency," Blake said.
"Alright, well considering how diligent you work this is fine," A moment passed, "Okay but can you make it in for the afternoon?"
Blake nodded, though that obviously wasn't going to seen by the receiver, "Yes."
"Excellent, alright then. Have a good morning." There was a click and Blake put down the phone.
She finally noticed how much her heart was racing, how twitchy her limbs were, and her ears were hyper-sensitive, twisting rapidly to take in every sound she heard. Blake took in many deep breaths, attempting to calm herself but the breaths came out staggered and shallow. She spent a few minutes with her head resting on the steering wheel, wondering what went wrong when the obvious solution popped into her mind. She threw on her seatbelt and started the car, praying her nerves wouldn't impede her driving too much. Evidently it didn't work as she screeched out of the driveway, one destination in mind.
-
A man with vibrant red hair stood at the balcony of his condominium, watching over the city from his twenty-ninth floor unit. He was wearing a black suit, with sunglasses bordered by white rims on his face. Two black horns were situated on the top of his head as the wind rippled through his hair. He leaned over, arms resting on the rails, watching the vehicles zip by on the streets, the people like ants walking through heading to wherever they need to go. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the city, scanning the citizens, his mind busy with however else they could pull the strings, so that maybe those specific citizens may not be walking where they are now, or maybe those cars wouldn't exist. Otherwise the scenery was always the same and nothing seemed special or salvagable from it. The trees that lined the mountains to the north could be torn down, or if the city disagreed, burnt down if he wanted to see whatever was behind them. Fortunately for the trees and others who do enjoy the view, he had no plans to be doing such things. The idea was that he was capable and had the ability to do so. It was still a slow day today, and so he remained standing on his balcony, watching lives go by while he stood idly by.
His moment of peace was interrupted when a loud banging came from the door. Taking his time to readjust his blazer, he took purposely slow steps, letting the knocks ring out before he took a peek through the peephole. He recognized those cat ears, carefully unlocking the door. He was about to pull the door open gently when instead a great force from the other side slammed it in, missing his head by millimetres. Oh, the cat was mad.
"Adam!" She stormed in, ears erect and pupils nary a slit. Her glare was deadly, her emotions ready to pounce and tear off the horns on Adam's head.
Adam gestured Blake towards his sofa, "What's the matter Blake? You seem very worked up."
"You gave me the wrong target!" She accused, not taking his offer to take a seat at all. No, she remained standing, stance still very aggressive, legs apart and chest open.
"Wrong target? The information came from the Alpha, so I assure you that's impossible."
Blake could feel her nails beginning to dig into her palms, but she was too infuriated to register the pain, "Then why did the target have a family!?"
"Oh, he did?" Adam checked his phone which he hadn't gotten to destroying yet, "Hm, I see. I'm supposed to relay this message to you after you eliminated the target."
He scrolled through his phone, the next words that came out of him made Blake's blood run cold, "Seems the Alpha did that on purpose."
"Why?" Blake asked, her words no longer carried the fury they had before, and the question had barely any volume to it.
"He has not been pleased about your last assignment," Adam continued reading through his message, "The Schnee heiress. It's been three months and she's still alive."
He dropped his arm to his side, still holding his phone but no longer reading off of it, "I've been wondering that too myself. You've had ample opportunity but that girl still continues to breathe. Have you been finding difficulty?"
"You know I wasn't happy being given that assignment in the first place Adam," Blake started, "I rather keep my hits and my day job separate."
"And? What's your excuse?" His sunglasses kept his eyes from sight, not allowing Blake to see exactly his expression.
Blake crossed her arms, glancing away at the balcony instead, "I was looking for an opening that wouldn't jeopardize my career. I can have it done soon."
"I certainly hope so for your sake Blake. The Alpha isn't going to give you hits with your preference if you continue to lag on this target. If the Schnee girl is released before you can get to her, you will be in huge trouble."
"I didn't think I'd need to prioritize it," Blake explained, "Her sentence doesn't end anytime soon."
Adam set down his phone on the table, "Regardless, I don't see the problem with your latest target. Does it matter that he had family? Anyone you eliminate who doesn't would likely still have grieving friends. What difference does it make?"
"He had a young daughter," Blake reasoned.
"See, it's these morals of yours that is holding you back," Adam mentioned, "You want to be a successful hitman in this business? You need to drop the sensitivity."
Blake's voice was barely above a whisper, almost like she didn't want to reveal these next words, "Maybe I don't want to."
"What was that?" Adam knew Blake wasn't trying to conceal her words. She had to know he too was a faunus, and though he lacked her sharp cat ears he still had better hearing than a human.
"It's—it's nothing. Sorry, just spouting nonsense."
The tall faunus placed his hands on Blake's shoulders, forcing her to hold eye contact with him, "Blake, remember your origin. Remember that we as a part of the White Fang fight for our livelihoods. What we do is not wrong in the large scheme of things. This is how far we must go if anyone is to ever listen, to ever learn that the faunus and the White Fang are not to be pushed around. You know as well as I do, having been raised by this organization."
Blake made the tiniest of nods, "I understand."
"Besides, you know what happens when people try to leave the White Fang. They only leave in body bags," He let go of Blake, "That man, Bennett, learnt this the hard way."
"What?" Blake's eyes widened, "I thought he was about to backstab the White Fang to ally with a rival—"
Adam shook his head, "I suppose the information you were given was completely fabricated."
Blake bit her thumb as she looked away a second time, "I—is it possible to at least take a break from these assignments?"
"The Alpha did give me a message, a proposition," Adam once again picked up his phone, "If you eliminate the Schnee heiress, you will not be given another target for six months."
The cat faunus took a deep breath, turning around to head back out the door, "Okay. That is, I suppose that's fair."
"On the contrary, it sounds pretty generous to me," Adam commented, "Blake, you are one of the White Fang's most efficient hitmen. The police do not have a single clue what happened to any of your targets. The more work you get the better it is for the White Fang. I suppose the Schnee heiress is an especially important case, but we will definitely be less effective with you on hiatus."
"I'll—I'll think about it," Blake said, "Look I've got to go Adam. I'm sorry for storming in."
Adam smiled, a seemingly genuine smile but without seeing his eyes Blake could never be sure, "It's alright. If you ever need anyone do remember I'm here for you Blake."
Just as Blake was about to shut the door, Adam's hand grabbed onto the side, keeping it from closing, "Wait a minute. I almost forgot."
"What is it Adam? I really need to go."
"Jordan Bennett's funeral is next Sunday, nine am sharp. Remember to be there, and be sure to bring your tissues," He reminded.
"That's—do I have to show up?" Blake asked, uneasy.
Adam nodded, "Of course. Bennett was still technically one of us when he was killed. If we do not arrive it will look suspicious."
"I think I have work then so I'll probably have to miss it."
"Blake," Adam pulled her back, grabbing her wrist, "You can spare one shift for the late Mr. Bennett, can't you? It's the least you can do after you brought on his funeral in the first place." Another smile, but though its purpose was to calm Blake, it did nothing of the sort, the exact opposite actually.
Blake slid out of Adam's grasp, "Alright, I'll be there." Her words sounded hollow, but she still let them out.
"Good, have a nice day Blake," Adam adjusted his sunglasses and shut the door, leaving Blake to stand there in the hallway.
She didn't move for quite a while, staring at the door, her ears noticing that her heart was still pumping with the ferocity of an actual beast, like a lion or tiger. She rubbed both her arms, wondering what she should do. The last thing she needed was to be forced to attend this funeral, where there would be crying relatives and people giving eulogies of what a great person she had murdered. She always did have qualms about her work, but when she was in-training with the White Fang they determined that her best quality was her shot and efficiency and so she'd made an excellent assassin. If all she had to do was shoot someone she'd never knew, never even seeing their face, she could almost stomach her night job, but now her thoughts shifted into a worldwind of scenarios. What if this wasn't the first time she was given false information? What if all her previous hits were of people who weren't as horrible as the Alpha had described? Her aloof atittude towards her targets was instead leaving a gaping hole in her chest. If only she could be what Adam described, one without sensitivity, as cold as she could possibly be. None of this could be a problem. She would not be standing here, realizing just how many individual strands of fluff was in the carpets or anything of the like.
Her afternoon shift would start soon. Blake finally stepped away from Adam's apartment, heading back to her vehicle. If she was able to do one more hit on a person she didn't even like, she could spend the next six months finding a way to escape the White Fang. She wasn't sure how, and at her predicament she'd likely end up six-feet-under than home free, but at this point she didn't want to be involved with them anymore. It wasn't worth it. Even Adam, her childhood friend, spoke in words that felt so wrong. Instead of the boy she grew up with struggling through the inequality of life, he spoke of work as the highest priority and treated Blake not of a friend but like an employee. She wasn't sure if she could trust him anymore.
Blake left with so many questions and little answers. There wasn't an easy way out anymore.
-
"Ruby! Oh my god!" Yang's face was being pushed away, Ruby scuffling with her sister once again, "No! Don't waste the puddin—Ruby! No! Sto—Oh no it's all over the place!"
Ruby giggled, trying to steal her pudding back. Fortunately for her it was Yang's pudding that instead of entering her sister's mouth, was now dripping down her shirt and the table. She was going to win this battle and leave her older sister with nothing, as she deserved. It had been over two weeks since Weiss had been away, and while Ruby missed her she was able to get away with shenanigans far easier without her here. Unfortunately Weiss wasn't around to see her sneak a whole garbage bag of sugar cookies into her cell, and unfortunately with Weiss not screaming at her not to eat it all at once, Ruby did, and now was banned from the delicious dessert. The next best thing was pudding and the last thing she needed was to lose that too, thus the semi-wrestling fight she was having with Yang who too enjoyed pudding so much she'd steal others.
Even if it was stolen Ruby was in a good mood. This morning was visiting hours, and their father finally managed to find time to make the commute all the way here for a visit. He was incredibly positive and did not mention anything about the reason Ruby or Yang was here, and even brought new photos for them to put up. It was unfortunate he could not bring Zwei, but Ruby was given her cute wolf plushie she had slept with since she was four, and that made sleeping alone far more comfortable. The guards really didn't have to examine it to the point of almost opening it up to make sure there was no contraband though. Ruby would have been crushed if they had let Wolfies' fluff seep out like guts and blood, killing her beloved stuffed animal. She wondered if Weiss would have liked to see the plushie as well or if she'd scream, but either one would have been fine. She just missed the sound of her voice oddly enough, even if for anyone else they'd tell you you were crazy for missing the Ice Queen's voice.
That's right, the Ice Queen, Weiss' new nickname. Ever since the incident where she had ended the police academy's field trip during a chilly snowy day in the yard, everyone had begun referring to her as the Ice Queen. She was cold, calculated and no one could give her orders. Ruby too had earned some respect as well with her response to the Captain, but it was not to the extent of Weiss who had actually taken the fall just to save the others from both a colossal bigot and the cold. Weiss would have been quite satisfied whenever she came back, which Ruby if she was counting was about five or six more days. She had debated drawing in those lines stereotypical prisoners made to count the days they would be freed, but Weiss again, would've probably yelled at her.
If only that tiny Weiss voice in the back of her head was there when she ate all those cookies. Nonetheless, the day of the Great Cookie Purge was as delicious as could be, and she would miss them until she was freed. In which case she wanted to bake her own cookies and bring them to Weiss who she had figured out by now was staying longer than just the few months she and Yang had left. She had never seen Weiss visited a single time, or even sent a letter a single time, so Ruby was going to be the first.
Yang finally let go of her pudding, feeling bummed out that her own had went all over the place, "You win today sis, but tomorrow, I take the war!"
"Yes!" Ruby lifted up her spoon in triumph.
Yang began cleaning up with some napkins, "I'm surprised none of the guards even stopped us. We were really going at it there."
"Maybe it was Blake watching us," Ruby took a look around but kept her pudding close and guarded just in case, "Oh there she is!"
Blake stood there, but her eyes were seemingly watching beyond Yang and Ruby. The two turned around to see what was so interesting behind them but found nothing at all notable, and when they turned back Blake's stare remained. Yang got up, wanting to take a shower soon due to the pudding explosion, and decided to check out how Blake was doing first. Was she not sleeping again? Yang was hoping Blake would take care herself better after last time, but Blake was stubborn. If there was anything amiss she would not be surprised if the guard had just gone without sleep again.
"Hey Blakey!" Yang called out, walking towards the guard.
She did not respond.
"Blake?" Yang waved in front of her face.
Blake continued to stare off into the distance.
"Yo Blake!" She now flapped her hands in front of Blake, a gesture she knew annoyed her.
Nope, no one was home.
Finally Yang gave up and began shaking Blake, "Hey! Have you been missing sleep again?"
Blake blinked, wobbling her head to bring herself back to reality, "Yang? Do you need something?"
Ruby, now having finished her pudding and thus no longer needing to guard it with her life, came up to Blake as well, "Is Blake okay?"
"I'm fine." "Not at all!"
The two looked at one another, having responded differently at exactly same time, "There's nothing wrong with me Yang."
"Were you daydreaming or somethin? Geez. I don't know anyone else who could be lost in a trance as long as you," Yang shrugged, lifting her head back.
What Yang didn't know was how right she was. Blake was actually daydreaming, or rather going through her plan in her head for the hundredth time. She was thinking of the best ways to take Weiss out without suspicion. In a prison, this meant faking suicide was the best bet, alternatively a drug overdose but that would be difficult to achieve with Weiss locked up tight in segregation. She wondered how different her situation would've been had she purposely slowed in returning to sedate Weiss back when she was on the influence of dust. She had inhaled so much it was a possibility it could've killed her and that method would've been much more efficient than the plans she had now. Unfortunately that also meant Ruby would've likely at least been charged with manslaughter, which was not something Blake would have allowed to happen. The only way to avoid such a fate was if Ruby didn't confess at all and thus Weiss had inadvertently killed herself, but she knew Ruby would've suffered from far too much guilt to not admit it. Ruby had been refreshingly honest her entire stay here.
Blake assured Yang, "Yes, I was daydreaming in fact. Sorry, I'll keep my mind on the job."
"Wow, I wonder what Blake Belladonna thinks about. Hmm, maybe frolicking in the flowers? Nah, too sappy. Maybe you think of yourself as a hero saving people from a burning building? That sounds more like something Ruby would think of. Hm, I'm drawing a blank!"
Ruby felt offended, "Hey! How do you know my daydreams?"
"Rubes, you are so predictable."
Even though Yang had interrupted her thoughts, Blake was glad she had. The chaotic nature of her job allowed so much distraction from her night prowls and hits. It was one reason she took so many shifts, to get away from the White Fang and the underground world. It still wasn't ideal, what with her casually racist co-workers and Weiss in general, but it was preferable to a dangerous terrorist group constantly watching her over her shoulders. Once Weiss was gone she would've killed two birds with one stone, the White Fang leaving her alone and well, Weiss gone. She was the daughter of the hated Schnee Patriarch, who ran the biggest dust cartel in the nation. Numerous faunus were reliant on the drug, leading them to committing so many crimes to obtain more just so this man and his family could be richer and richer. To the public he owned a metalworks industry, which had good business but was nowhere as profitable as the dust. With Weiss eliminated the Schnee Syndicate would lose such a significant chunk of their future. She didn't need much to justify the hit, so she figured with Weiss still alone and vulnerable in the other building, the opportunity was now.
She watched the two carefree sisters return to their lunch, having eaten the pudding first just because they could. If only she could have had a family as close as theirs, being so happy despite their situation. It was a lingering jealousy that blossomed the moment she met Yang, who had always raved about her wonderful family, but such a luxury was something Blake could never have.
-
The night, a time when criminals exited their nests to complete the work for the day. Those innocents who remained, going home at such ridiculous hours were always at a risk. This was also the time the police were at their most heightened of sense of security, knowing that criminals were out there and had to be caught. Their job was done the moment these people were behind bars, their fates were held by others' responsible. But life was never that black and white. There would be those innocents who perhaps in terms of allowing others much better fates, deserved to die, and those criminals who might somehow be benefiting society in ways no one could predict, but they were few and far between. The line between hunter and hunted was not just fuzzy, but not even a line. It was more like a circle, whose turn was it to leap into the ring first? Who would make it out alive? Who was responsible for one's livelihood?
Blake held Weiss' in her palm that night. She had rope tied to her waist, in place of the handcuffs she usually wielded. The night guards were elsewhere, most likely taking a break and Cellblock C was a place they rarely entered, not expecting a single escape from such a high-security building. Blake too was technically taking a shift as well, which meant she was supposed to be here. She took soundless steps towards Weiss' cell, even in her thick boots only professionals could do. She even wore her signature black scarf to hide half her face. It wasn't necessary, but she never felt comfortable doing her hits without it. The lights remained off, her faunus eyesight enough for her job. As soon as she made it to the door she peeked through the small, square window and saw Weiss exactly as she expected, sound asleep. She was even facing the wall, leaving her back open to attack, though one could argue she was hiding her soft fleshy bits of the front by sleeping in such position. However, if you weren't facing outwards you would never see the monster coming, never detecting a thing.
Blake wanted to finish this as fast as possible and decided against strangulation or smothering. Even if it was Weiss, that was too cruel. She only needed to snap the heiress' thin neck, and then hang her up with the rope. It would look just like she broke her neck hanging herself, and no one would even suspect a thing. Suicides in prison occurred on average once to twice a year. She creaked the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind her just in case anyone was wandering through the halls and saw a door open wide. Her golden eyes glowed in the darkness, hungry for its prey, nearing the small girl who slumbered seemingly peacefully in bed. She would never see this coming.
She took one last step to stand next to the bed when she heard a noise her foot was not supposed to make. She looked down and saw she had stepped on a piece of paper. It was still odd that those in Cellblock C were not allowed books, but they were still allowed to write whatever they pleased on paper. She could never understand why that was, and felt to humour Weiss since allowing her to live a few more minutes wasn't that big of a deal. She picked up the slip of paper, reading through what was another letter. What was she trying to do, still attempting to get her father to pull her out of this? Instead of neatly contained paragraphs with the utmost of vocabulary, the words were scribbled on clumsily, lines jumbled about and breaks too many to count. Blake began from the top.
You've always taught me to be strong
hold your emotions inside
keep your head up, back straight
never show weakness to others
if someone was obviously beneath you
you would treat them like so
people so inadequate should not exist
right?
right?
a cold steely exterior is the schnee way
no matter where you are
or who you're with
here i am, within a cold steely exterior
against my will
what purpose is there to hold this shield
when no one is there at all?
time goes by, I stand still
time goes by some more
i've asked you to come visit
or i suppose, the proper term would be 'requested'
make time for someone like me
who is trapped in here, alone
even if my words reached you, you wouldn't come
i see that now
to you, i've always been beneath you
but you had always made time
for someone like me
no longer is that the case
no longer am i worth cutting into your precious time
no longer am i your daughter
is that it?
i am but a small, insignificant part of your life
no longer there to linger and sully your reputation
but you were my everything
and here i am
nothing
with nothing
and nothing
should not exist
Blake read the entire thing. She didn't understand why she never stopped. She read it a second time, a third time. Was this some sort of trick? She peered down at Weiss, who still slumbered as if nothing was wrong. This wasn't the only piece of paper strewn all over the floor. There were dozens, all of them Blake skimmed over but they were all generally the same thing. When you were by yourself with literally almost no contact with a single human being, one could be viable to go insane. This was the Schnee heiress. She was an absolute jerk who had no redeeming qualities. She held horrible opinions about faunus and would be mean to every single person she met. She'd never waste a breath on someone inferior unless it was to argue. What the hell was this? Blake could only feel enraged, not even knowing why she was so mad reading these letters. It wasn't because she actually felt sorry for her was it? Or was it because instead of being someone easy to kill Weiss suddenly and out of nowhere, had some resemblance of humanity that'd make the task all the more harder?
No. She came here to do a job. She wasn't about to be stopped. She needed the opening, to be freed from the White Fang. She only needed to commit one more murder and she would be out. If Weiss was dead it would be all the better for Blake. Besides, the letter was even asking for death. Blake was doing her a favour. With these numerous pieces of paper implying Weiss was already suicidal it'd make her death all the less suspicious. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. She felt for her rope, but realized a huge oversight.
There was no way Weiss could've obtained a rope from out of nowhere.
If she were to hang herself, it'd be some sort of item already inside the cell. The best bet was rolling up the blanket, but Weiss was slumbering, tucked in neatly underneath it. Her arms were laying on top, keeping the sheets close. She'd have to kill her first and then take the blanket, knowing the other way around would likely wake the heiress up. That was the last thing Blake needed. The faunus had to make sure the blanket would be strong enough to work as a noose, but when she felt it with her hands, the blanket was oddly damp. Was Weiss drooling?
No.
Blake's golden eyes adopted a whole new size.
They were tears.
No. No no no no no. Blake's hands were balled up into such tight fists they began to vibrate. This could not be happening. This was her out, her way to finally get away from the White Fang and Weiss had the nerve to be sympathetic now? Adam was right. If only she didn't have these stupid feelings, this sense of ethics, this faunus quality that kept most people decent. Why was she even a hitman if she had these emotions? Why did she even have this life? Why couldn't Weiss not have been in prison, in her own workplace, but out and about so she could simply just shoot her in the head, never learning anything about the person at all. Those were the simplest, easiest of kills. Not once had she ever killed a person with her bare hands. She just had to do something a little more complex, with someone she had talked to and seen every day in the last three months.
It was obvious why she was hesitating.
She opened her fists, her hands still quivering. She was going to force herself to do this. She had to. With Weiss dead the Schnee Syndicate would be weakened considerably. It was for the good of all faunus. It was for Blake's survival as a person. If she couldn't kill Weiss she wouldn't be able to kill anyone else, so many consequences dawning in her head after her most recent hit. She'd be saving all those unnamed lives with Weiss dead, when otherwise the Alpha would send her on more missions to take out those she knew nothing about. The countless lives outweighed this single one. Blake had to do it. She had to kill Weiss.
Her trembling uneasy hands wrapped themselves around Weiss' neck. Wait no, this wasn't how it was done. If she was to strangle the heiress it'd be like this, but snapping of a neck was different. She did whatever she could to pull her left hand away, her fingers vibrating and her heart pumping so fast it felt like it wanted to burst straight out of her chest. She could feel her own hands were damp now, sweat dribbling down every exposed part of her skin. She placed her left hand on Weiss' head. She just needed one twist and Weiss would be dead. One single twist.
She saw blue eyes.
Blake froze. She had to kill her now. She had been found out. She had to kill her now. She had to kill her. She had to—
Weiss was unmoving. She continued to stare at Blake, like she was hypnotized by her presence, like she was already dead. Her pupils never moved, not even slightly. They were deadset on Blake, as if judging her silently, as if waiting for her next move. Weiss did not struggle. She watched.
No. No she couldn't do this.
She could if Weiss was just a stranger she shot.
If Weiss was someone she knew, but hated.
If Weiss was asleep, vulnerable, never to see it coming.
But not like this, not with her watching, not with her eyes asking her to go ahead with it. Blake let go of Weiss' head, which fell softly back on the pillow. Weiss still did not move, in fact her eyes had closed once again, like she was only awake for a second. Now not only were Blake's hands and arms shaking, her whole body was. She was no longer angry, but a sob came over her that she did everything she could to withhold. It was not enough. She bit her lip as hard as possible so she could keep her composure, but it was not enough. She fell to her knees, lips bloody, nails digging into the ground so hard they broke, and she cried. Tears fell everywhere, falling onto the sheets of paper that littered the ground. She hated herself so much, for failing to do what she had been training her entire life to do, for failing to do what she had been doing for years. For having these emotions that held her back. But ultimately, she hated herself for wanting to kill Weiss. What was she even doing, working as a correctional officer when she was the biggest hypocrite of them all? Not even Weiss could match up to that.
And that same girl did not move an inch, as if she didn't notice anything happening at all.
-
It was raining.
Black umbrellas were a common sight at the cemetery that day. A priest had finished speaking his words, describing the deceased man as one who had so much potential who had also accomplished so much. He was a family man with his wife who loudly bawled throughout the wake, and an eight-year-old daughter he had loved very much. A few friends came up to tell stories of Boomer's life, when he had made them laugh or did some incredible feat. This would have otherwise been incredibly boring to someone who was almost a stranger had it not been the one person who caused this all to happen sitting at the very back of the seats, next to a redheaded man who still wore shades despite the overcast and rainy weather.
Blake's expression remained stone cold. She did not bring a single tissue, watching on as people finished with their words and they said their last goodbyes to Jordan Bennett. Soon the relatives and friends began leaving to mingle, waiting for the coffin to be lowered a little later. The seats were mostly empty, but a little girl remained, standing in front of the casket, holding a flower she placed on top. She stood there alone, staring. Blake wanted to leave immediately, but she was one of the last to walk up to the wooden box to leave her final words, and to not do so at all would not only be rude but also suspicious. Blake cursed under her breath silently, wishing that the young girl would have left to be with her mother by now, but there she continued to stand. There was nothing she could do but to approach the body next to her.
It was to her surprise that the girl spoke.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"An acquaintance," Blake responded, keeping her words short and brief. The more direct and blunt her answers, leaving barely an opening for further questioning, the sooner she could flee from this familiar sight.
The girl had the same brown hair and green eyes as the man in the casket, which made her presence all the more uncomfortable. Blake's ears hidden within her bow twitched nonstop, the only part of her body she allowed to succumb as nervous tics.
She continued, "Did you know daddy well?"
"No, I just saw him from time-to-time," Blake said, hoping the little girl wouldn't say too much more.
The girl placed one more flower on the casket, "Then how come you came?"
Blake was starting to believe a quick and easy exit from the area was no longer a possibility, inhaling a little more than normal to try to respond in a timely and typical manner, "Everybody who worked with him came."
"Does that mean you're not sad?"
"What? Of course I'm sad," Blake answered.
The girl kept staring at the coffin, remaining by Blake's side, "How come? You didn't know daddy much."
"It's always sad with someone dies," Blake needed to find some sort of way out of this conversation.
The girl looked down at her shoes, frowning, "Then I guess I'm not normal."
"What?" Blake turned towards the girl, eyebrows raised, now no longer looking for an out.
"Daddy's gone and I don't feel sad. Is something wrong with me?" Tears finally appeared on her face for all the wrong reasons.
Blake crouched down to the little girl's level, "No there's nothing wrong with you. Everyone grieves differently. You might not be sad now but maybe you'll be sad later."
"That's what mommy said," She wiped away a tear, "but mommy's wrong."
"Why is mommy wrong?" Blake was wondering if this girl was more fit to be an assassin than her, but that was not a very appropriate thought at the moment.
She shook her head, "Mommy shouldn't be sad either, like me."
"Why? Your daddy is gone. That would make anyone cry," Blake tried to reason with her.
"Because daddy was never home," She started, "when he was, he would always yell at mommy."
Oh. Well. That was unexpected. Then again this man was part of the White Fang, though he was trying to flee from it. Still, people in gangs weren't always the best of people. Blake knew by heart this fact. She wanted to drop eye contact with those innocent green eyes that drove nails into her heart every second she stared, but one could not be sincere without keeping it up.
She still tried to think of ways to convince the girl that she was mistaken, "But even so, your mommy loved your daddy very much. So that's why she's sad."
"No. I don't like that," the tears flowed ever harder, "After he goes away again and I leave my room, things would be broken like the TV or the flower vase. Mommy always looked so scared."
Blake really didn't need reasons to justify what she did. She really didn't. She was done this night job of hers and she really didn't want to know she had actually done something good by ending a life, "You're really not sad your daddy is gone?"
"If daddy's not there, that means mommy can wear t-shirts again, right?" The girl said, "Then that would make me happy."
T-shirts? That was an odd factoid to point out. Did he forbid her from wearing anything too provocative? Was this the type of man she had ripped from the world? But while initially Blake had been confused, it did not take long for her mind to put together exactly what the child meant. The yelling, the broken items, the short-sleeves repeated in her mind the few seconds she allowed before the silent pause would become too long and awkward. Finally, it clicked. The mother would hide her skin. She'd hide her skin to cover up anything that would be to done to her. This child couldn't possibly be implying something like that, could she? Maybe this man simply didn't like t-shirts.
Blake almost swallowed her tongue, unsettled at what might have occurred behind closed doors, "I-If your daddy went to jail, that would have been much better than this."
"But daddy never would. Mommy always fibs to the police when they come over. And they don't believe me," She shook her head again, "but daddy is stopped now."
Blake could say no more. They stood staring at the coffin before it was finally lowered into the ground several minutes later. The young daughter was summoned by her mother to leave, many people returning to their vehicles to drive away. Blake was the last person to remain, continuing to stare at the gravestone of her most recent murder. Adam stepped up next to her, taking a few glances at the headstone as well before having words himself.
He smiled, "Will you look at that? Looks like the Alpha chose a good target for you after all."
Blake said nothing.
"He really is generous. I'm glad we both work for that sort of man, don't you?"
Blake did not move.
Adam patted Blake on the back, "It's just like with that Schnee. No one will miss her either."
He stepped away, heading back the car to wait for Blake.
The rain poured ever harder, Blake's black attire soaking wet despite the umbrella she held. She didn't even have the willpower to keep it above her head, letting it pour onto her ears, hair, and face. The two biggest reasons she had to leave were now gone. Killing one another was never the right thing to do and yet she could not go through with it with Weiss. If her hits were all like the one she stood in front of, wouldn't ending Weiss' life be a favour to the world? Was her presence doing something to truly oppress or harm someone else? Were there countless more who needed to be taken out, so family members or friends who had been abused or otherwise taken advantage of would be free? She wasn't sure anymore, but she had decided days ago she didn't want to anymore, no matter the consequences. It was a dilemma she just couldn't escape.
When she raised her head to look towards the sky, she wasn't sure if the water splashing down her face was only rain. The pain embedded deep with her chest ached ever harder just like the rain that poured ever more. She didn't know when she would leave, but she also didn't know when her legs would ever move again.
