this icon is surprisingly fitting
Mar. 24th, 2016 02:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spottoHELLO AGAIN MY DARLING
It has been quite some time, has it? Haven't been able to write or post my writings or whatever due to personal problems and general busy-ness with life. Oh and also because I wanted to have more of arc three done before posting arc two. This will probably be posted in a bit slower pace than arc one as I try to get through arc three. You see by the time I posted arc one's final chapter I finished arc two, so I wanna do the same here. Unfortunately arc three is not as complete as arc two was when I began posting arc one. Are you confused yet? P:
I'm still undecided as to whether or not arc four will exist. If it does it'll probably be the shortest and if not, arc three will be awfully long. So there's that. Oh and that excuse is not the entire excuse. Most of my free-time was taken up being obsessed with lemons or marathoning nostalgic (but very good) childhood cartoons, going crazy about the latest iteration of Digimon Tri, so....I was also distracted! Yay.
HERE BEGINS ARC TWO, Chapter 11.
It has been quite some time, has it? Haven't been able to write or post my writings or whatever due to personal problems and general busy-ness with life. Oh and also because I wanted to have more of arc three done before posting arc two. This will probably be posted in a bit slower pace than arc one as I try to get through arc three. You see by the time I posted arc one's final chapter I finished arc two, so I wanna do the same here. Unfortunately arc three is not as complete as arc two was when I began posting arc one. Are you confused yet? P:
I'm still undecided as to whether or not arc four will exist. If it does it'll probably be the shortest and if not, arc three will be awfully long. So there's that. Oh and that excuse is not the entire excuse. Most of my free-time was taken up being obsessed with lemons or marathoning nostalgic (but very good) childhood cartoons, going crazy about the latest iteration of Digimon Tri, so....I was also distracted! Yay.
HERE BEGINS ARC TWO, Chapter 11.
11
"Help! That man stole my purse!"
This may have been Jaune Arc's first day on the force, but it certainly wasn't his first day dealing with crooks. He had volunteered one day after his father had spoken about the bailiffs going on a state-wide strike to deal with those misfits of the court. The morning went well and he felt his confidence growing as time went by. If he could prove to his father he was able to do such a simple job his road to becoming the most feared and respected officer his father already was, would have been a cinch. Unfortunately he contacted one of his older sister's flu at the possibly the worst time possible and had run to the washroom to save himself from the embarrassment he might have caused had he stuck with the regimen and kept up his work throughout the rest of that afternoon. When he had left the washroom, the freshly-convicted girl he was transporting had vanished. His co-worker of the day too began panicking, but all was well when they found out they were eventually sent to where they meant to be by the end of that night and to the relief of Jaune, his father never discovered his incident. It was if the day had no problems at all!
Now he was a bonafide legitimate officer and he had a lot to prove. Pyrrha had told him to calm down; that many rookies had made the mistake of wanting to do too much and chewing off far more than they could chew at the start of their careers. But Jaune wasn't like these rookies! Oh no, he was the son of the police commissioner! An average first day was nothing but a disappointment for him, so, seeing the grand and perhaps stereotypical scene of a robber running off with a purse was nothing but opportunity for him.
He gave chase, winding through streets and alleyways until the thief was cornered in a dead-end. There was a towering brick wall separating one half of the alley with the other, a tightly locked gate impeding him from freedom. Jaune approached, keeping his gun pointed and his posture upright. He could see his hands were slightly trembling, which he had worked for weeks to rid of such a habit, but it was still there even after all this time. His instructors had determined it did not affect his aim too significantly, so despite his tics he had passed his training. The weapon did not seem to faze the thief, who in quick succession revealed his own pistol. Jaune's heart skipped a beat the moment he saw this. It was one thing to chase and take down a petty thief on his first day, it was another to be involved in a dangerous standoff. He should have called for backup instead of pursuing the perpetrator on his own. Still, if he was able to take him down in something as tense as this, it would've been quite the first day.
Or he was going to die.
Jaune could see his hold on his weapon was beginning to tremble even more. He mentally screamed at himself to stop doing this, showing weakness to the enemy and losing his even grounds with the thief. The robber did nothing but smile, seeing his own opportunity.
"No! Stop! That purse isn't-i-isn't worth more than your life!" Jaune's voice came out less confident and more jumbled. He wanted nothing more but to say these words in an assertive, dominant manner, but it did not alleviate the situation in any way.
The thief took a few steps back, "I don't want to shoot either pal, but if you let me go there won't have to be any violence."
"Y-you know I can't do that!" Damn. That was not what he should have said.
There was a second problem, that being even if Jaune survived this, it likely meant this other man was not. For whatever reason when a gun was drawn the police were always trained to shoot with deadly force. Jaune figured even injured the man could still shoot back anyway, so it was of the utmost interest and safety of the officers that they be put down in such life-threatening situations. Even so, such a policy had led to great controversy through the media. There were officers who would use this excuse for almost everything, perhaps even legal murder, but Jaune refused to believe such lies. His father would never allow such a thing. Law enforcement was too proud, too good, for such incidents to ever take place. The rumours were spread by the enemy, the crooks, the drug traffickers, the mob bosses, all those who had reason to ruin their reputations, but Jaune knew if he had killed someone on his first day that would not have been the ideal beginning either. Instead of going straight back to work tomorrow he'd have to be investigated and his beginnings would be rocked. He would be forever known as the cop who shot first.
And so his fingers shook.
He saw the thief's fingers move. This led to one last problem for Jaune. Did he even have the capacity to kill someone? In one fell stroke he had to decide on his life or this man's. This was not a situation a rookie should be dealing with on their first day and all of this for what? For a single purse? There couldn't have been more than a few hundred dollars in there, cards that could be cancelled, perhaps a bushel full of makeup? Was Jaune going to die or risk his career for something like that?
Well, that's what a police officer's job was.
What was he thinking, walking down his father's path? He was nothing like him. Nothing like his father or the men before him, all decorated overachievers in their own way. And here he was, seeing the light beyond the dark tunnels if one finger dared move. If one finger dared press-
BANG!
Jaune's eyes widened. He felt the bullet go by him, nearly grazing his head as it lodged itself into some building behind him. There was a cape-or cloak, red, that replaced the thief that stood in his sights. The crook was now on the ground, underneath this newcomer who had dropped in out of seemingly nowhere. His own finger had stopped just short of shooting whoever this was, an innocent. The cloak turned around.
"That was close!"
Oh it certainly was.
"Are you okay?"
Jaune blinked. This person was talking to him. Right.
"Y-yeah," He managed to say, "who are you?"
"Oh, no one important," she said, "I saw you in trouble here, so I thought to come help."
No one important? Jaune examined the mysterious figure dressed in the red cloak further. An everyday citizen would not stalk the nights in such a vibrant outfit. He couldn't see much of her face hidden underneath the shadows of her hood, or through the simple mask she was wearing. All he could make out were silver eyes, which was a colour that wasn't too common among humans. Was she perhaps a faunus?
"You aren't dressed like someone unimportant."
She chuckled, "Yeah I guess not. Let's say I came from a convention."
"Jaune!"
Jaune turned his head, hearing Pyrrha's voice from around the corner, "Oh there's my partner! She'd love to meet yo-"
The moment he looked back, only the motionless thief remained.
-
That was almost too close.
The important part was, of course, that she had made it.
Ruby flew in the skies, feeling intense thrill at the momentous weightless leaps she took across the roofs of the city. She was currently relying on her own strength to reach the rougher, crime-ridden areas that needed her presence the most. It had been a few weeks since she began, and she had stuck with minor altercations that officers couldn't reach in time. She knew she had to build up her experience and repertoire before she'd be able to tackle anything greater, but her desire to take on something bigger was edging out her common sense. That particular incident was dangerous, two people having guns and Ruby having none. Blake had told her she needed to test out her beloved rifle far more before she'd be able to use it regularly, which Ruby reluctantly agreed to so long as Blake didn't report her to the authorities, or worse, Yang. Without her baby, she'd have to stay out of any of the serious business that no doubt went in further in the background outside of common knowledge.
She wanted to return home and finish for the night. Tomorrow was a big day. Yang had invited both Ruby and Blake to lunch, and Ruby was itching to speak to her. She was irritated, not something she was often, due to Yang having told her little details on where her father went and how to contact him. She hadn't spoken to him since that argument months ago, and felt after all this time that she was in the wrong after all. Her father was only looking out for her. Though she wasn't allowed visitation on the last few months of her sentence, letters were still allowed in and out of the facility, and aside from a few from Yang none from her father had come. Was he that busy?
She finally stopped short of passing her house and onto her neighbour’s, hearing the familiar noise of how her foot impacted with the roofs' tiles. Ruby felt her shoulders slump knowing that she could finally relax, having reached home. She stepped around to the side of the house where her window to her room was situated when she heard knocking from the front door. Ruby peeked over the chimney and saw a man in a navy blue jacket. She managed a glimpse of some sort of yellow wording on the back, but was never able to angle her head or move her position to be able to read the entire thing. Either way, whoever this was, was important. Anyone wearing something in that shade of blue was likely an employee of the law enforcement, but what would they ever need with her? She just saved one of them several minutes earlier.
Then it hit her.
Then she panicked.
Ruby pushed herself from the chimney, heading towards the next building when her ankle caught onto the gutter and she found herself flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to somehow fly before colliding with the trash heap below. This was the worst reminder Ruby could have possibly received on how she forgot to take out the trash last night. Living alone was not something she was used to. She groaned as she pulled herself out of the remains of last night's dinner and what else she had thrown away in the last week, feeling not only blunt pain from the fall but now annoyed she required a bath. As she crawled away, she found herself face-to-face with two brown leather boots.
Ruby wasn't one to curse, but internally she really did. If her father could read her mind he would've been so disappointed. If it was possible he could have been more disappointed.
"Hello there."
Ruby peered up, way up, to a man who had to be a foot-and-a-half taller than her. Ruby was small in stature, true, and so most of her eye contact often had her neck creaking upwards, but with Ruby sprawled on the ground and this man far from it, she needed more than just her neck muscles to stay eye-to-eye and thus respectful to this man whose presence earned it. Ruby quickly picked herself off the ground, brushing off the dirt and garbage that stuck to her outfit and knowing she was caught red-handed, thought the best thing to do was to flee with words.
"Uh h-hi?"
The man adjusted his glasses, which were small for spectacles but only further accented his appearance of someone who definitely knew what they were doing, unlike Ruby, "Do you know a Ruby Rose? It seems she is not in at the moment."
Oh right. She may not have been in trouble after all! Ruby was still deep in her disguise, hood that never flew off her head and mask that remained stapled on her face. Not literally of course, but it might as well have been.
"Uh no. I was just passing by," Ruby said.
The words came out so naturally. She was going to be fine. The man will return later when she was out of the costume and all should be swell.
"That's a shame. It seems she's gone out pass curfew," he took a glance at his watch," which means I'll have to contact the department to put out a warrant for her."
Blue jacket. Yellow letters.
Ruby widened her eyes.
Parole officer.
How could she have possibly forgotten? Her first instinct was to bolt out of her yard entirely, dash away to some place safe and never to return to her house again, but that would mean she'd become a fugitive, jeopardizing her work as a stealth vigilante and not being able to meet Yang and Blake tomorrow. She couldn't even go to the airport to see her father home, whenever he did return, because her photo would be posted everywhere with giant wanted letters under it. On the other hand, if she stayed her identity would likely be revealed and she'd be going to jail which would mean all of the beforehand would be a moot point anyway since she'd not be able to do those either!
For a moment Ruby wondered if superheroes hyperventilated.
"U-uhm, I'm sure s-she'll be back!" Ruby spoke quickly, words spilling from her mouth faster than they were produced in her brain, "There was probably an emergency or s-something!"
"Hm, but you do not know Ruby Rose," he began, "so why are you so sure about this?"
Ruby's eyes darted back and forth, as if her pupils themselves were trying to capture the perfect phrase to drive away this man who threatened her current routine and way of life. She began tapping her fingers on her elbows, her ankles twisting around trying to find some way out of this that wasn't running or lying. It was too late to run.
The man however, did not wait for her next response, "You know, you look familiar."
"No! I don't look like Ruby Rose at all! She's much taller than me and has broader shoulders! Look at this noodly arm! Nothing like Ruby!" She flapped her limp left arm to elaborate.
"Oh no, I meant someone else."
"Huh?"
The man leaned on his wooden cane, which Ruby had finally noticed. This man wasn't able to run himself, so why didn't she rush off in the first place? Her fingers clamped down onto her elbows, nails digging into them, furious at herself for missing such a golden opportunity.
He continued, "There have been a few news stories online about a red caped hero going around saving citizens from muggings and robberies. Would you happen to be that person?"
"M-maybe!?" Ruby had always wanted to help people, growing up dreaming to become a police officer or a soldier or even an emergency medical technician, but as she grew older she lost interest in such specific careers. The one thing she'd never want to be was a hostage negotiator. The victims would've been dead in an instant if she had to talk down criminals with words.
"Well, let's say you are," he spoke his words carefully and slowly, the exact opposite of Ruby's panic speech, "it would be a shame to arrest such a person, thus stopping their admirable feats of bravery, would it not?"
Ruby nodded. Her brain was currently a word search puzzle that she hadn't any time to solve, so physical movements were her last resort.
He took a second glance at his watch, "In which case my work here is done. When Ruby comes back, would you mind informing her Officer Ozpin was looking for her? Do remind her that sometimes, roughly every two weeks, I'll be checking up on her. I'm sure what emergency she's caught up with most likely won't be keeping her away again."
"Y-yes! I will!" Ruby blurted out as the man smiled and returned to his vehicle.
When his car was out of sight, Ruby stepped around to the cellar doors, opening them up wide and slipping inside. Resting on the wall just by the angled entrance was her work-in-progress rifle. Had the man discovered this, Ruby would never have been this lucky. She slumped down her shoulders a second time, gently patting and polishing the gun before she headed upstairs for an overdue bath. There was an important date tomorrow.
-
Whenever a monster was described in a fictional story, their eyes would always glow in the darkness, between the tresses of bushes or trees, within the shadows of a child's closet, or at the very back of a deep unnerving and seemingly uninhabited cave. Few people would ever question such a description. It was of supernatural logic that a creature so unknown and ominous would have otherwise impractical features. If a predator were to hunt its prey, stealth was of the utmost importance. Eyes had no reason to glow in any circumstance. A deer or mouse would whisk away the moment they noticed. Yet such a literary device continued in all the fairy tales, all the horror stories told around the campfire. Perhaps the glow was a sign that the predator itself was aware of its prey or was about to strike, and it wasn't a permanent quality of their sharp eyes. If this were true, every monster ever told or even existed may very well have deserved their reputations.
Weiss was lucky such tales were restricted to fiction.
She sat up, pupils aligning with the clock at the edge of her sight. It read five o' seven. The only noise that could be heard in this surprisingly large condo was the tick-tocks of the clock. No one was home. Blake was at work, a place she seemingly lived in a few months ago, but now Blake wasn't as enthused in her career as she used to be. Weiss wasn't able to pinpoint any reason why, perhaps the incident that led to her almost perfect escape had put extra pressure on Blake to keep her alignments hidden, but even so with her disregard for even her health to work as many shifts as possible, it didn't feel like something like that would pull her back. The other roommate of theirs, a ruffian Blake called Sun, was out doing whatever business he pleased. Weiss knew he too held a job, but she found it a miracle he managed to even land one.
She supposed she wasn't in the best position to be judging others' merits, stretching her body out and feeling the still-healing scars across her torso and limbs giving but not breaking away with her. She recalled the latest argument she had with Blake just the night before, restless on her own inside the penthouse, but it was the only place she was allowed to be. The furniture was much nicer and the view far superior, but it didn't feel too different from the facility she was locked in before. Indeed, Blake would've been in deep trouble had she left the house and was caught on the streets by the police, which if a scenario had come by to Weiss so many months ago she would never hesitate to pounce. All of that was before the faunus had saved her life.
She could have never imagined a White Fang member to be the reason she was alive today.
Weiss closed her eyes, memories resurfacing.
When she opened them, she was back in that prison, sitting on a gurney. Her first sights were not the dull grey walls of concrete that bordered the high-security building or the bright silver eyes of her peppy cellmate. No, it was of golden eyes that radiated in the dark, the same eyes that she had assumed was a hallucination when she was in that hazy three-weeks locked alone with little human interaction. At that time, the creature had spared her when she was at her most vulnerable. Yet again she found herself in a place where she was barely able to move, pain surging throughout her body, breath intermittent, failing to grasp at what oxygen that to her wasn't widespread at all. Considering how blurry those golden pools were, she could have swore she had fallen into a second hallucination. Maybe Ruby made the horrible mistake of lugging in dust to their cell again, and here she was trying to make sense of those damn eyes that kept staring like a hawk or a panther, a dust-fuelled dream that haunted her for months.
This time it came with words.
The lights came on as if on cue, and from both the shocking sight and the stunning words she was finally able to associate those eyes with a person.
Her first and utterly nonsensical suspicion was correct.
"B-Blake?" She murmured, a cough followed and she could feel a fluid clogging up her throat. Blood seeped from her mouth soon after, and she figured saying nothing might keep such an essential liquid from leaking out further.
"Quiet," she started, "The doctors and nurses say you are in stable condition. This is an obvious lie."
Stable was the last thing Weiss would've described her condition.
"Satisfied with their job well done in keeping you alive, they went home," Her brow furled slightly as if Blake was displeased by such actions, "I am the only guard who remains."
Well with such an unsettling gaze Weiss was of course very comfortable with who remained. Blake who likely had little medical knowledge aside from first aid was the only one who could do anything about say, the unbearable pain or the overflowing blood that wracked with Weiss' body at the moment. She didn't even remember how she even ended up in such a sad state, wondering if perhaps she was attacked in some way.
"I know what you're thinking Weiss. 'These doctors are idiots.' Or perhaps, 'I am in great pain; someone please end my misery.' Tap your finger once for yes or twice for no."
Wait, she was able to move her finger? Weiss attempted, her left didn't budge but her right, her right was free from the damaged tendons that kept her movements slowed or stalled. She tapped once, wondering where Blake was going with this. Why was she even talking to her? What was she doing? Why can't she just return to the happy and peaceful darkness where confusion and physical agony did not exist? In fact, if she were conscious now that would mean she wasn't on the edge of life or death, so would that technically mean she was stable?
She was now staring down the barrel of a pistol.
"Unfortunately I am no doctor, but I do have a gun," She waved it a little but kept it pointed to the spot just between Weiss' eyes, "If you stay here with such inadequate care, you will inevitably die slowly and painfully."
Weiss sucked in a breath, but one lung was not paying attention and sucked in a sharp sting instead.
The wince did not go unnoticed, "Or, I could put you down like an animal."
Oh no. Oh no no no. Blake was not doing this. She was not going to, with Weiss in such an excruciating state, refer to one of their past arguments and wager her life on it. Half the time they were arguing Weiss wasn't even serious. She knew she held some controversial opinions on faunus, but she'd never believe they didn't deserve health care if they couldn't afford it. Though Weiss did remember saying something similar and watching Blake's blood boil during such an argument. She was just so baffled why someone irrelevant to such issues would be so passionate about it. The other guards would ignore her if she casually mentioned anything about them, but Blake? No, she had to explode and make a big deal of it in front of several inmates. Not once did Weiss ever argue with the actual faunus inmates inside, knowing saying such things to their face was a death wish and-
Blake wasn't wearing her hat.
She was so enthralled by her eyes, Weiss never noticed that two tufts in her hair were visible this entire time.
They were ears.
"I-idiot."
Blake's eye twitched, "What? You have the gall to call me something like that in this situ-"
"N-no. No," another breath, which normally would've been some degree of relief if it was clearing her throat of fluid at all, "M-me. Me idiot."
Those same ears went erect, perhaps in surprise, "You. You're the idiot. At least we finally agree on something."
Everything made sense now. It wasn't even a twist that would shock a reasonable person. Weiss never saw this coming precisely because Blake was a faunus. She was so used to them being in subservient roles, being the taxi drivers and never the passengers, the janitors and never the office workers, the construction workers and never the foremen. All the guards in the prison were human and a majority of the inmates were faunus. Such a revelation was never considered in Weiss' mind. Why was Blake so passionate about faunus rights, when she couldn't possibly be a faunus when she held such a role of authority? Oh, what a time to realize that she really was a racist bigot. That same realization, that same knowledge that was now going to lead to her undoing. After all if someone like her could be a prisoner, someone like Blake could be a guard. She was personally insulting Blake the entire time. If the roles were reversed, Weiss would not have hesitated to put a bullet into her head. She would've cried of laughter, died of laughter if something like that couldn't literally happen if she did. Her ribs felt like they wanted to fall apart into tiny little pieces and her shoulder did not even budge.
Blake probably thought she went mad, despite her state she was beaming like the idiot she was. Weiss dropped her head back into the pillow, a cloud of relief enveloping her skull. She wasn't allowed to close her eyes for long when she was nudged awake by Blake with the tip of her pistol. Weiss would've liked nothing more than to chew Blake out like the wad of tobacco she was, constantly pulling her out of any sense of peace, but speaking would only further strain her chest cavity that felt to be hollowing out as each second went by. Instead she fell back to her usual glare, boring into Blake with her unblinking, endless stare.
"Get up."
Now she blinked, squinting her eyes in a silent cry of disbelief. Though she had yet to try to attempt what felt like the strenuous task of moving her legs, shifting her weight onto such unprepared limbs with every movement and breath tethered to ephemeral chains did not feel to be in her capacity. The gun barrel she continued to gaze down disagreed with this notion and so Weiss pushed herself off the bed to sit up and hang her legs off the side. Her chest heaved for oxygen after a single movement and Weiss' difficulties were not ignored.
"Can you stand?" Blake's tone switched into one of sympathy replacing her cold statements of before.
Weiss did not move.
Blake lifted Weiss' shoulder over her own, her sensitive ears picking up her uneven breathing. She carried some of Weiss' weight as she supported her, helping her upright and off the bed. They slowly shuffled out of the infirmary and down a corridor, before detouring through a mostly unused passageway that led to the outdoors just in front of a fence that was over twice the height of the two of them. Despite its size there were no other towering walls or gates that bordered off the captured from freedom. Blake in particular eyed the barbed wire, a troubling obstacle she had little planning to rid of, but where they were now was free from the surveillance cameras that lined the rest of the institution.
"You're going to need to climb," Blake added, hoping Weiss had the strength to reach the other side. She needed to stay behind to clean up and manipulate the scene for what she wanted to do, but if Weiss wasn't able to go over with her own power she was not going to live.
Weiss exhaled, a shaky sputtering breath, "Y-you can't be serious."
"I am. If you cannot get over that fence then you're done for."
"Then s-shoot me now."
Blake growled, "Why must be you be so difficult even when I'm trying to save your life?"
Weiss couldn't stop herself, "Oh it's me being difficult-"
She immediately hunched over, a coughing noise that wasn't able to finish and switched straight into a hurling noise, blood splattering onto the chain-link and stone floor. Alarmed, Blake tugged Weiss backwards, checking her mouth to see the blood had for once, stopped spilling.
"You're right, you can't climb that fence. We should go back."
Blake knew from each symptom she witnessed that Weiss must have lost a lung in that fight, which at this point might as well have been called a butchering, and to ask her to scale such a high fence in such a condition might as well have been sending her into some sort of cruel and unusual execution. She could feel her back molars crunching amongst one another. Weiss was so close to freedom, close to some sort of medical attention that she so sorely needed. The last thing Blake wanted was for that warden to win, for the White Fang to get what they want, for all these people who frankly deserved to be behind bars far more than most the people here to, at this point, get away with murder. The murder of someone Adam had said no one would miss, yet Blake knew despite Weiss' irritable demeanour even she had people who would miss her. Her death would be such an injustice, the end of an insignificant pitiful life to most, but one that was never justified.
To take her back would be the last thing she wanted, but Weiss was too wounded. Was she too far gone after all? Was there really no hope in keeping this girl alive? The best option now was to just let Weiss have some sort of relief in what was now likely the last few moments of her life. She pivoted on the spot, repositioning Weiss' weight onto hers to take that slow walk back to the bed, but Weiss seemed to resist.
"What are you doing?"
Weiss' eyes widened, the brightest Blake had seen them since she had been potentially mortally wounded, "I r-remember now."
"What?"
She reached for the fence, right arm clinging on tightly, "I'll climb."
"Talking too loudly turned you into a blood fountain, why are you deciding you can climb that fence now?"
"B-because Ruby saved me." Her voice was nothing but a whisper, but Blake could easily hear, "If s-she can do something so..." A cough. "...stupid, so c-can I."
And so the heiress forced herself onto the fence, Blake seeing each of her fingers, hands, limbs trembling as they held its weight up onto the linked steps. The steps were slow and full of struggling, but by the time Weiss had managed halfway it seemed she was going to reach the top in no time. Blake then remembered the obstacle sitting at the very top. She threw off her jacket, holding it on one arm before leaping onto the fence, easily scaling it what with not being injured and second thanks to her faunus heritage. As she passed Weiss the girl almost slipped, but Blake reached around her shoulder and back, keeping her hemmed into the fence.
Blake proceeded to drape her jacket over the barbed wire, but Weiss was not interested in such a sight. This was the first time she had seen Blake ever take off that part of her uniform and what was underneath was not at all what she was expected. Certainly Blake was fit and had the shoulders and biceps not unlike that of Yang's, but for her to also have inked artwork wrapped around her arms was almost uncanny. How was someone who always kept up such a professional appearance one who had something as uncouth as tattoos? It was almost like she herself was one of the inmates.
Of course the obvious question finally came over her when she brought her attention back to the jacket, "Ruby I u-understand, but," a deep breath, "y-you, you, why?"
"Why don't you ask me that when you're not dying," Blake suggested, hoisting her up around the wires.
BAM!
Weiss' head shot up. She whipped her neck around, realizing she had almost fallen asleep at the desk again. For a moment she wondered why she wanted bunk beds as a child when she'd likely fall asleep on the ground next to it before she'd make it up to the top. Standing up she noticed Blake had stormed into the house, slamming the door close so hard the hinges were loosened, and she flung her uniform jacket, clean of the blood and rips sustained from that fateful day, onto the couch. The brand new couch by the way, which Weiss had picked out from a catalogue when Blake couldn't be bothered to care. They had almost purchased a relatively pointless sofa that could transform into a bunk bed, which was the only time Blake protested. Weiss normally would've been against such a niche type of furniture as well, but bunk beds. Sun found the prospect of swinging himself on top to sleep exciting, but it was much more expensive than the plain regular sofa they ended up with and so such a wonderful device was left unsold. Blake spent twenty minutes explaining to Weiss why they couldn't buy it, aside from its useless ability. Weiss was not used to such a foreign concept like saving money. When she lived with her father she was able to get whatever she wanted!
"Long day at work?" Weiss asked, entering the living room at around the same time.
Blake plopped onto the couch, "Please give me one reason not to strangle my boss."
"It's illegal."
"The law never stopped me before."
Weiss rolled her eyes, "Fine. It's immoral."
The faunus threw her head back, sagging into the comfortable seat and embracing the cushion next to her, when she suddenly noticed an aroma wafting from the kitchen, "Wait. What's that smell?"
"Dinner."
"Din-I forbade you from cooking!" Blake stood up, eyeing the plates sitting on the table.
Weiss strolled over to the kitchen, "I didn't set fire to the stove this time!"
"I don't care! You're not supposed to cook-" Blake too entered the kitchen after her and to her surprise, the meals were not charred black as she had expected. Of course there was a strong possibility its taste was not as pleasant as its appearance, but at the moment when the so-called chef couldn't boil water without it somehow bursting into flames, the result was impressive.
Weiss was for whatever reason not as calm, "Wait a second where is-Zwei! No! Bad dog!"
The black and white corgi that had been living with them the past few months had dragged one of the plates to the corner, gobbling up what seemed to be some sort of beef dish. Little remained for Blake to be able to make out what it was.
"You slobbering little mangy mutt!" Weiss called, "I had to redo that dish four times!"
"What? Re-do?" Blake dashed to the refrigerator, flinging open the freezer door, "What happened to the ribs!? You used them all up!?"
"Of course I did," Weiss swung her arms to the front of her body, crossing them, "They've been in that freezer for so long. It's a miracle I managed to grill them into something that resembled food."
Blake grabbed hold of Weiss' shoulders, "They've been in that freezer for so long because we were saving them!"
"Saving them for what? The longer they're in there the tougher and grimier they'll be. I don't know about your tastes but I'd rather not have game food."
"Because unlike your family, fresh food is not a commodity!" Blake threw her arms up, "They were on sale for a ridiculous price, so I bought a lot to save them for the times when grocery prices are too high!"
"Well excuse me, we live in a penthouse. I didn't realize we were so strapped for money considering our lavish surroundings," Weiss shook her head, "We seemed to be so well-off in the beginning."
Blake growled, "That was before a third person added to the expenses!" At the same time she stopped her contract killings. Little did both Weiss and Sun know, most of her income came from the shadiest of her jobs and without the thousands of lien to almost tens of thousands for every one of her successful hits, keeping a place as grand as this would become all the more difficult.
"If you'd allow me to collect the insurance money we would not be having this problem."
"For the last time Weiss, that's fraud!"
"So is escaping from prison and attempted murder, but you don't see me pointing that out."
Blake could feel a headache seeping deep into the back of her skull and all she wanted was to sleep this out and be away from her insufferable roommate. It wasn't helping that the dog began to bark during their argument, again not wanting to be left out, "Gah. Fine. I'm going for a nap. You clean this up. Never cook again. No objections."
"Objections?" Weiss stepped back as if she were personally attacked, "You do realize this food is for you?"
"What?"
Weiss pulled up a chair, "You really think I would eat all this myself? What do you think I've been doing?"
"Everything possible to make me regret saving you."
Weiss sighed, "And I'm eternally grateful for that, but if you're going to keep me cooped up in this house with nothing to do for the rest of my life I'm not going to sit around being a deadbeat you need to support."
Despite her following words, Blake sat down, "I'm still figuring out a way to get you out of the country."
"Yes and when will that happen?"
"When the opportunity presents itself," She reached for a fork, poking holes into a sweet potato.
"Oh when the opportunity presents itself you say? Well in the meantime I'm going to renovate the guest room-oh excuse me, I meant my room." And with that she slipped back into the room she came from.
Blake began chewing on the food, finding that it was surprisingly decent. The broccoli was unfortunately too salty however, which led to Blake wondering how on earth Weiss even managed to do such a thing. Broccoli was never meant to have much salt in the first place. She soon finished in silence, clearing table of the dirtied plates. Weiss had called out one last time when she heard the china clinking together that she was going to wash up instead, which Blake figured was fine. It wasn't like Weiss was so incompetent with home economics she'd smash all her plates, was she? As Blake headed towards the washroom to rinse her hands she noticed Zwei following.
"No. No. You go to Weiss. Leave." Blake murmured, still wary of the dog even after it had been living here for a few months. In fact why was it still here? She was going to eat Yang alive tomorrow for never taking the dog back. Ruby had wanted to but they realized with her lack of job and her almost lack of a sister never being home she wasn't going to have much time or means to keep the canine's spirits up, so it remained in the penthouse, forever making Blake's supposedly relaxing home all the more tense.
But Zwei would not let up, so Blake picked up her pace. She tried to slam the bathroom door in his face but was not quick enough, so she headed for the second bathroom located in her own master bedroom, but still the dog followed. This of course escalated to the point that the noise of a fallen lamp post could not be ignored. Weiss exited the room.
"What is going on-Blake! Why are you on the ceiling fan!?"
"Please take the dog with you." She pleaded, still clinging on with the corgi standing on its hind legs pawing at any of Blake he might be able to reach.
Weiss crouched down and picked the dog up, "C'mere Zwei. Awww, who's a cute little puppy! You're a cute wittle puppy! Are you a good dog? Yes you are!"
"Why are you encouraging him!?"
"He only chases if you run," Weiss explained, "Come, you may sleep in my room. That’s correct, it’s now my room, but it can also be our room. That way you won’t bother the frightened little kitten on the ceiling."
With the door closed yet again, Blake returned to the floor, exhaling a sigh of relief and looking forward to ending the long day. Unfortunately just as she entered her room, her phone rang. She was thinking of letting it ring and go to voicemail, not wanting to bother with whoever was on the other end. She was not going to return for the night shift no matter what the facility wanted, and if Yang was calling to reschedule she would not allow her to. As she fell forward into her pillow, she heard the voicemail go off, her own automated message informing the caller that she was not available, but she would get back to them as soon as she can. Blake could feel her entire face fusing into the pillow, sleep overwhelming all other senses but it was suddenly interrupted.
"How disappointing Blake, to let me go to voicemail. That is fine. You better be listening to this. It may not be six months yet, but you have another hit. And while you still might be stewing in your morals, this is not a hit you want to ignore."
Her heart was in her ears.
"Help! That man stole my purse!"
This may have been Jaune Arc's first day on the force, but it certainly wasn't his first day dealing with crooks. He had volunteered one day after his father had spoken about the bailiffs going on a state-wide strike to deal with those misfits of the court. The morning went well and he felt his confidence growing as time went by. If he could prove to his father he was able to do such a simple job his road to becoming the most feared and respected officer his father already was, would have been a cinch. Unfortunately he contacted one of his older sister's flu at the possibly the worst time possible and had run to the washroom to save himself from the embarrassment he might have caused had he stuck with the regimen and kept up his work throughout the rest of that afternoon. When he had left the washroom, the freshly-convicted girl he was transporting had vanished. His co-worker of the day too began panicking, but all was well when they found out they were eventually sent to where they meant to be by the end of that night and to the relief of Jaune, his father never discovered his incident. It was if the day had no problems at all!
Now he was a bonafide legitimate officer and he had a lot to prove. Pyrrha had told him to calm down; that many rookies had made the mistake of wanting to do too much and chewing off far more than they could chew at the start of their careers. But Jaune wasn't like these rookies! Oh no, he was the son of the police commissioner! An average first day was nothing but a disappointment for him, so, seeing the grand and perhaps stereotypical scene of a robber running off with a purse was nothing but opportunity for him.
He gave chase, winding through streets and alleyways until the thief was cornered in a dead-end. There was a towering brick wall separating one half of the alley with the other, a tightly locked gate impeding him from freedom. Jaune approached, keeping his gun pointed and his posture upright. He could see his hands were slightly trembling, which he had worked for weeks to rid of such a habit, but it was still there even after all this time. His instructors had determined it did not affect his aim too significantly, so despite his tics he had passed his training. The weapon did not seem to faze the thief, who in quick succession revealed his own pistol. Jaune's heart skipped a beat the moment he saw this. It was one thing to chase and take down a petty thief on his first day, it was another to be involved in a dangerous standoff. He should have called for backup instead of pursuing the perpetrator on his own. Still, if he was able to take him down in something as tense as this, it would've been quite the first day.
Or he was going to die.
Jaune could see his hold on his weapon was beginning to tremble even more. He mentally screamed at himself to stop doing this, showing weakness to the enemy and losing his even grounds with the thief. The robber did nothing but smile, seeing his own opportunity.
"No! Stop! That purse isn't-i-isn't worth more than your life!" Jaune's voice came out less confident and more jumbled. He wanted nothing more but to say these words in an assertive, dominant manner, but it did not alleviate the situation in any way.
The thief took a few steps back, "I don't want to shoot either pal, but if you let me go there won't have to be any violence."
"Y-you know I can't do that!" Damn. That was not what he should have said.
There was a second problem, that being even if Jaune survived this, it likely meant this other man was not. For whatever reason when a gun was drawn the police were always trained to shoot with deadly force. Jaune figured even injured the man could still shoot back anyway, so it was of the utmost interest and safety of the officers that they be put down in such life-threatening situations. Even so, such a policy had led to great controversy through the media. There were officers who would use this excuse for almost everything, perhaps even legal murder, but Jaune refused to believe such lies. His father would never allow such a thing. Law enforcement was too proud, too good, for such incidents to ever take place. The rumours were spread by the enemy, the crooks, the drug traffickers, the mob bosses, all those who had reason to ruin their reputations, but Jaune knew if he had killed someone on his first day that would not have been the ideal beginning either. Instead of going straight back to work tomorrow he'd have to be investigated and his beginnings would be rocked. He would be forever known as the cop who shot first.
And so his fingers shook.
He saw the thief's fingers move. This led to one last problem for Jaune. Did he even have the capacity to kill someone? In one fell stroke he had to decide on his life or this man's. This was not a situation a rookie should be dealing with on their first day and all of this for what? For a single purse? There couldn't have been more than a few hundred dollars in there, cards that could be cancelled, perhaps a bushel full of makeup? Was Jaune going to die or risk his career for something like that?
Well, that's what a police officer's job was.
What was he thinking, walking down his father's path? He was nothing like him. Nothing like his father or the men before him, all decorated overachievers in their own way. And here he was, seeing the light beyond the dark tunnels if one finger dared move. If one finger dared press-
BANG!
Jaune's eyes widened. He felt the bullet go by him, nearly grazing his head as it lodged itself into some building behind him. There was a cape-or cloak, red, that replaced the thief that stood in his sights. The crook was now on the ground, underneath this newcomer who had dropped in out of seemingly nowhere. His own finger had stopped just short of shooting whoever this was, an innocent. The cloak turned around.
"That was close!"
Oh it certainly was.
"Are you okay?"
Jaune blinked. This person was talking to him. Right.
"Y-yeah," He managed to say, "who are you?"
"Oh, no one important," she said, "I saw you in trouble here, so I thought to come help."
No one important? Jaune examined the mysterious figure dressed in the red cloak further. An everyday citizen would not stalk the nights in such a vibrant outfit. He couldn't see much of her face hidden underneath the shadows of her hood, or through the simple mask she was wearing. All he could make out were silver eyes, which was a colour that wasn't too common among humans. Was she perhaps a faunus?
"You aren't dressed like someone unimportant."
She chuckled, "Yeah I guess not. Let's say I came from a convention."
"Jaune!"
Jaune turned his head, hearing Pyrrha's voice from around the corner, "Oh there's my partner! She'd love to meet yo-"
The moment he looked back, only the motionless thief remained.
-
That was almost too close.
The important part was, of course, that she had made it.
Ruby flew in the skies, feeling intense thrill at the momentous weightless leaps she took across the roofs of the city. She was currently relying on her own strength to reach the rougher, crime-ridden areas that needed her presence the most. It had been a few weeks since she began, and she had stuck with minor altercations that officers couldn't reach in time. She knew she had to build up her experience and repertoire before she'd be able to tackle anything greater, but her desire to take on something bigger was edging out her common sense. That particular incident was dangerous, two people having guns and Ruby having none. Blake had told her she needed to test out her beloved rifle far more before she'd be able to use it regularly, which Ruby reluctantly agreed to so long as Blake didn't report her to the authorities, or worse, Yang. Without her baby, she'd have to stay out of any of the serious business that no doubt went in further in the background outside of common knowledge.
She wanted to return home and finish for the night. Tomorrow was a big day. Yang had invited both Ruby and Blake to lunch, and Ruby was itching to speak to her. She was irritated, not something she was often, due to Yang having told her little details on where her father went and how to contact him. She hadn't spoken to him since that argument months ago, and felt after all this time that she was in the wrong after all. Her father was only looking out for her. Though she wasn't allowed visitation on the last few months of her sentence, letters were still allowed in and out of the facility, and aside from a few from Yang none from her father had come. Was he that busy?
She finally stopped short of passing her house and onto her neighbour’s, hearing the familiar noise of how her foot impacted with the roofs' tiles. Ruby felt her shoulders slump knowing that she could finally relax, having reached home. She stepped around to the side of the house where her window to her room was situated when she heard knocking from the front door. Ruby peeked over the chimney and saw a man in a navy blue jacket. She managed a glimpse of some sort of yellow wording on the back, but was never able to angle her head or move her position to be able to read the entire thing. Either way, whoever this was, was important. Anyone wearing something in that shade of blue was likely an employee of the law enforcement, but what would they ever need with her? She just saved one of them several minutes earlier.
Then it hit her.
Then she panicked.
Ruby pushed herself from the chimney, heading towards the next building when her ankle caught onto the gutter and she found herself flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to somehow fly before colliding with the trash heap below. This was the worst reminder Ruby could have possibly received on how she forgot to take out the trash last night. Living alone was not something she was used to. She groaned as she pulled herself out of the remains of last night's dinner and what else she had thrown away in the last week, feeling not only blunt pain from the fall but now annoyed she required a bath. As she crawled away, she found herself face-to-face with two brown leather boots.
Ruby wasn't one to curse, but internally she really did. If her father could read her mind he would've been so disappointed. If it was possible he could have been more disappointed.
"Hello there."
Ruby peered up, way up, to a man who had to be a foot-and-a-half taller than her. Ruby was small in stature, true, and so most of her eye contact often had her neck creaking upwards, but with Ruby sprawled on the ground and this man far from it, she needed more than just her neck muscles to stay eye-to-eye and thus respectful to this man whose presence earned it. Ruby quickly picked herself off the ground, brushing off the dirt and garbage that stuck to her outfit and knowing she was caught red-handed, thought the best thing to do was to flee with words.
"Uh h-hi?"
The man adjusted his glasses, which were small for spectacles but only further accented his appearance of someone who definitely knew what they were doing, unlike Ruby, "Do you know a Ruby Rose? It seems she is not in at the moment."
Oh right. She may not have been in trouble after all! Ruby was still deep in her disguise, hood that never flew off her head and mask that remained stapled on her face. Not literally of course, but it might as well have been.
"Uh no. I was just passing by," Ruby said.
The words came out so naturally. She was going to be fine. The man will return later when she was out of the costume and all should be swell.
"That's a shame. It seems she's gone out pass curfew," he took a glance at his watch," which means I'll have to contact the department to put out a warrant for her."
Blue jacket. Yellow letters.
Ruby widened her eyes.
Parole officer.
How could she have possibly forgotten? Her first instinct was to bolt out of her yard entirely, dash away to some place safe and never to return to her house again, but that would mean she'd become a fugitive, jeopardizing her work as a stealth vigilante and not being able to meet Yang and Blake tomorrow. She couldn't even go to the airport to see her father home, whenever he did return, because her photo would be posted everywhere with giant wanted letters under it. On the other hand, if she stayed her identity would likely be revealed and she'd be going to jail which would mean all of the beforehand would be a moot point anyway since she'd not be able to do those either!
For a moment Ruby wondered if superheroes hyperventilated.
"U-uhm, I'm sure s-she'll be back!" Ruby spoke quickly, words spilling from her mouth faster than they were produced in her brain, "There was probably an emergency or s-something!"
"Hm, but you do not know Ruby Rose," he began, "so why are you so sure about this?"
Ruby's eyes darted back and forth, as if her pupils themselves were trying to capture the perfect phrase to drive away this man who threatened her current routine and way of life. She began tapping her fingers on her elbows, her ankles twisting around trying to find some way out of this that wasn't running or lying. It was too late to run.
The man however, did not wait for her next response, "You know, you look familiar."
"No! I don't look like Ruby Rose at all! She's much taller than me and has broader shoulders! Look at this noodly arm! Nothing like Ruby!" She flapped her limp left arm to elaborate.
"Oh no, I meant someone else."
"Huh?"
The man leaned on his wooden cane, which Ruby had finally noticed. This man wasn't able to run himself, so why didn't she rush off in the first place? Her fingers clamped down onto her elbows, nails digging into them, furious at herself for missing such a golden opportunity.
He continued, "There have been a few news stories online about a red caped hero going around saving citizens from muggings and robberies. Would you happen to be that person?"
"M-maybe!?" Ruby had always wanted to help people, growing up dreaming to become a police officer or a soldier or even an emergency medical technician, but as she grew older she lost interest in such specific careers. The one thing she'd never want to be was a hostage negotiator. The victims would've been dead in an instant if she had to talk down criminals with words.
"Well, let's say you are," he spoke his words carefully and slowly, the exact opposite of Ruby's panic speech, "it would be a shame to arrest such a person, thus stopping their admirable feats of bravery, would it not?"
Ruby nodded. Her brain was currently a word search puzzle that she hadn't any time to solve, so physical movements were her last resort.
He took a second glance at his watch, "In which case my work here is done. When Ruby comes back, would you mind informing her Officer Ozpin was looking for her? Do remind her that sometimes, roughly every two weeks, I'll be checking up on her. I'm sure what emergency she's caught up with most likely won't be keeping her away again."
"Y-yes! I will!" Ruby blurted out as the man smiled and returned to his vehicle.
When his car was out of sight, Ruby stepped around to the cellar doors, opening them up wide and slipping inside. Resting on the wall just by the angled entrance was her work-in-progress rifle. Had the man discovered this, Ruby would never have been this lucky. She slumped down her shoulders a second time, gently patting and polishing the gun before she headed upstairs for an overdue bath. There was an important date tomorrow.
-
Whenever a monster was described in a fictional story, their eyes would always glow in the darkness, between the tresses of bushes or trees, within the shadows of a child's closet, or at the very back of a deep unnerving and seemingly uninhabited cave. Few people would ever question such a description. It was of supernatural logic that a creature so unknown and ominous would have otherwise impractical features. If a predator were to hunt its prey, stealth was of the utmost importance. Eyes had no reason to glow in any circumstance. A deer or mouse would whisk away the moment they noticed. Yet such a literary device continued in all the fairy tales, all the horror stories told around the campfire. Perhaps the glow was a sign that the predator itself was aware of its prey or was about to strike, and it wasn't a permanent quality of their sharp eyes. If this were true, every monster ever told or even existed may very well have deserved their reputations.
Weiss was lucky such tales were restricted to fiction.
She sat up, pupils aligning with the clock at the edge of her sight. It read five o' seven. The only noise that could be heard in this surprisingly large condo was the tick-tocks of the clock. No one was home. Blake was at work, a place she seemingly lived in a few months ago, but now Blake wasn't as enthused in her career as she used to be. Weiss wasn't able to pinpoint any reason why, perhaps the incident that led to her almost perfect escape had put extra pressure on Blake to keep her alignments hidden, but even so with her disregard for even her health to work as many shifts as possible, it didn't feel like something like that would pull her back. The other roommate of theirs, a ruffian Blake called Sun, was out doing whatever business he pleased. Weiss knew he too held a job, but she found it a miracle he managed to even land one.
She supposed she wasn't in the best position to be judging others' merits, stretching her body out and feeling the still-healing scars across her torso and limbs giving but not breaking away with her. She recalled the latest argument she had with Blake just the night before, restless on her own inside the penthouse, but it was the only place she was allowed to be. The furniture was much nicer and the view far superior, but it didn't feel too different from the facility she was locked in before. Indeed, Blake would've been in deep trouble had she left the house and was caught on the streets by the police, which if a scenario had come by to Weiss so many months ago she would never hesitate to pounce. All of that was before the faunus had saved her life.
She could have never imagined a White Fang member to be the reason she was alive today.
Weiss closed her eyes, memories resurfacing.
When she opened them, she was back in that prison, sitting on a gurney. Her first sights were not the dull grey walls of concrete that bordered the high-security building or the bright silver eyes of her peppy cellmate. No, it was of golden eyes that radiated in the dark, the same eyes that she had assumed was a hallucination when she was in that hazy three-weeks locked alone with little human interaction. At that time, the creature had spared her when she was at her most vulnerable. Yet again she found herself in a place where she was barely able to move, pain surging throughout her body, breath intermittent, failing to grasp at what oxygen that to her wasn't widespread at all. Considering how blurry those golden pools were, she could have swore she had fallen into a second hallucination. Maybe Ruby made the horrible mistake of lugging in dust to their cell again, and here she was trying to make sense of those damn eyes that kept staring like a hawk or a panther, a dust-fuelled dream that haunted her for months.
This time it came with words.
The lights came on as if on cue, and from both the shocking sight and the stunning words she was finally able to associate those eyes with a person.
Her first and utterly nonsensical suspicion was correct.
"B-Blake?" She murmured, a cough followed and she could feel a fluid clogging up her throat. Blood seeped from her mouth soon after, and she figured saying nothing might keep such an essential liquid from leaking out further.
"Quiet," she started, "The doctors and nurses say you are in stable condition. This is an obvious lie."
Stable was the last thing Weiss would've described her condition.
"Satisfied with their job well done in keeping you alive, they went home," Her brow furled slightly as if Blake was displeased by such actions, "I am the only guard who remains."
Well with such an unsettling gaze Weiss was of course very comfortable with who remained. Blake who likely had little medical knowledge aside from first aid was the only one who could do anything about say, the unbearable pain or the overflowing blood that wracked with Weiss' body at the moment. She didn't even remember how she even ended up in such a sad state, wondering if perhaps she was attacked in some way.
"I know what you're thinking Weiss. 'These doctors are idiots.' Or perhaps, 'I am in great pain; someone please end my misery.' Tap your finger once for yes or twice for no."
Wait, she was able to move her finger? Weiss attempted, her left didn't budge but her right, her right was free from the damaged tendons that kept her movements slowed or stalled. She tapped once, wondering where Blake was going with this. Why was she even talking to her? What was she doing? Why can't she just return to the happy and peaceful darkness where confusion and physical agony did not exist? In fact, if she were conscious now that would mean she wasn't on the edge of life or death, so would that technically mean she was stable?
She was now staring down the barrel of a pistol.
"Unfortunately I am no doctor, but I do have a gun," She waved it a little but kept it pointed to the spot just between Weiss' eyes, "If you stay here with such inadequate care, you will inevitably die slowly and painfully."
Weiss sucked in a breath, but one lung was not paying attention and sucked in a sharp sting instead.
The wince did not go unnoticed, "Or, I could put you down like an animal."
Oh no. Oh no no no. Blake was not doing this. She was not going to, with Weiss in such an excruciating state, refer to one of their past arguments and wager her life on it. Half the time they were arguing Weiss wasn't even serious. She knew she held some controversial opinions on faunus, but she'd never believe they didn't deserve health care if they couldn't afford it. Though Weiss did remember saying something similar and watching Blake's blood boil during such an argument. She was just so baffled why someone irrelevant to such issues would be so passionate about it. The other guards would ignore her if she casually mentioned anything about them, but Blake? No, she had to explode and make a big deal of it in front of several inmates. Not once did Weiss ever argue with the actual faunus inmates inside, knowing saying such things to their face was a death wish and-
Blake wasn't wearing her hat.
She was so enthralled by her eyes, Weiss never noticed that two tufts in her hair were visible this entire time.
They were ears.
"I-idiot."
Blake's eye twitched, "What? You have the gall to call me something like that in this situ-"
"N-no. No," another breath, which normally would've been some degree of relief if it was clearing her throat of fluid at all, "M-me. Me idiot."
Those same ears went erect, perhaps in surprise, "You. You're the idiot. At least we finally agree on something."
Everything made sense now. It wasn't even a twist that would shock a reasonable person. Weiss never saw this coming precisely because Blake was a faunus. She was so used to them being in subservient roles, being the taxi drivers and never the passengers, the janitors and never the office workers, the construction workers and never the foremen. All the guards in the prison were human and a majority of the inmates were faunus. Such a revelation was never considered in Weiss' mind. Why was Blake so passionate about faunus rights, when she couldn't possibly be a faunus when she held such a role of authority? Oh, what a time to realize that she really was a racist bigot. That same realization, that same knowledge that was now going to lead to her undoing. After all if someone like her could be a prisoner, someone like Blake could be a guard. She was personally insulting Blake the entire time. If the roles were reversed, Weiss would not have hesitated to put a bullet into her head. She would've cried of laughter, died of laughter if something like that couldn't literally happen if she did. Her ribs felt like they wanted to fall apart into tiny little pieces and her shoulder did not even budge.
Blake probably thought she went mad, despite her state she was beaming like the idiot she was. Weiss dropped her head back into the pillow, a cloud of relief enveloping her skull. She wasn't allowed to close her eyes for long when she was nudged awake by Blake with the tip of her pistol. Weiss would've liked nothing more than to chew Blake out like the wad of tobacco she was, constantly pulling her out of any sense of peace, but speaking would only further strain her chest cavity that felt to be hollowing out as each second went by. Instead she fell back to her usual glare, boring into Blake with her unblinking, endless stare.
"Get up."
Now she blinked, squinting her eyes in a silent cry of disbelief. Though she had yet to try to attempt what felt like the strenuous task of moving her legs, shifting her weight onto such unprepared limbs with every movement and breath tethered to ephemeral chains did not feel to be in her capacity. The gun barrel she continued to gaze down disagreed with this notion and so Weiss pushed herself off the bed to sit up and hang her legs off the side. Her chest heaved for oxygen after a single movement and Weiss' difficulties were not ignored.
"Can you stand?" Blake's tone switched into one of sympathy replacing her cold statements of before.
Weiss did not move.
Blake lifted Weiss' shoulder over her own, her sensitive ears picking up her uneven breathing. She carried some of Weiss' weight as she supported her, helping her upright and off the bed. They slowly shuffled out of the infirmary and down a corridor, before detouring through a mostly unused passageway that led to the outdoors just in front of a fence that was over twice the height of the two of them. Despite its size there were no other towering walls or gates that bordered off the captured from freedom. Blake in particular eyed the barbed wire, a troubling obstacle she had little planning to rid of, but where they were now was free from the surveillance cameras that lined the rest of the institution.
"You're going to need to climb," Blake added, hoping Weiss had the strength to reach the other side. She needed to stay behind to clean up and manipulate the scene for what she wanted to do, but if Weiss wasn't able to go over with her own power she was not going to live.
Weiss exhaled, a shaky sputtering breath, "Y-you can't be serious."
"I am. If you cannot get over that fence then you're done for."
"Then s-shoot me now."
Blake growled, "Why must be you be so difficult even when I'm trying to save your life?"
Weiss couldn't stop herself, "Oh it's me being difficult-"
She immediately hunched over, a coughing noise that wasn't able to finish and switched straight into a hurling noise, blood splattering onto the chain-link and stone floor. Alarmed, Blake tugged Weiss backwards, checking her mouth to see the blood had for once, stopped spilling.
"You're right, you can't climb that fence. We should go back."
Blake knew from each symptom she witnessed that Weiss must have lost a lung in that fight, which at this point might as well have been called a butchering, and to ask her to scale such a high fence in such a condition might as well have been sending her into some sort of cruel and unusual execution. She could feel her back molars crunching amongst one another. Weiss was so close to freedom, close to some sort of medical attention that she so sorely needed. The last thing Blake wanted was for that warden to win, for the White Fang to get what they want, for all these people who frankly deserved to be behind bars far more than most the people here to, at this point, get away with murder. The murder of someone Adam had said no one would miss, yet Blake knew despite Weiss' irritable demeanour even she had people who would miss her. Her death would be such an injustice, the end of an insignificant pitiful life to most, but one that was never justified.
To take her back would be the last thing she wanted, but Weiss was too wounded. Was she too far gone after all? Was there really no hope in keeping this girl alive? The best option now was to just let Weiss have some sort of relief in what was now likely the last few moments of her life. She pivoted on the spot, repositioning Weiss' weight onto hers to take that slow walk back to the bed, but Weiss seemed to resist.
"What are you doing?"
Weiss' eyes widened, the brightest Blake had seen them since she had been potentially mortally wounded, "I r-remember now."
"What?"
She reached for the fence, right arm clinging on tightly, "I'll climb."
"Talking too loudly turned you into a blood fountain, why are you deciding you can climb that fence now?"
"B-because Ruby saved me." Her voice was nothing but a whisper, but Blake could easily hear, "If s-she can do something so..." A cough. "...stupid, so c-can I."
And so the heiress forced herself onto the fence, Blake seeing each of her fingers, hands, limbs trembling as they held its weight up onto the linked steps. The steps were slow and full of struggling, but by the time Weiss had managed halfway it seemed she was going to reach the top in no time. Blake then remembered the obstacle sitting at the very top. She threw off her jacket, holding it on one arm before leaping onto the fence, easily scaling it what with not being injured and second thanks to her faunus heritage. As she passed Weiss the girl almost slipped, but Blake reached around her shoulder and back, keeping her hemmed into the fence.
Blake proceeded to drape her jacket over the barbed wire, but Weiss was not interested in such a sight. This was the first time she had seen Blake ever take off that part of her uniform and what was underneath was not at all what she was expected. Certainly Blake was fit and had the shoulders and biceps not unlike that of Yang's, but for her to also have inked artwork wrapped around her arms was almost uncanny. How was someone who always kept up such a professional appearance one who had something as uncouth as tattoos? It was almost like she herself was one of the inmates.
Of course the obvious question finally came over her when she brought her attention back to the jacket, "Ruby I u-understand, but," a deep breath, "y-you, you, why?"
"Why don't you ask me that when you're not dying," Blake suggested, hoisting her up around the wires.
BAM!
Weiss' head shot up. She whipped her neck around, realizing she had almost fallen asleep at the desk again. For a moment she wondered why she wanted bunk beds as a child when she'd likely fall asleep on the ground next to it before she'd make it up to the top. Standing up she noticed Blake had stormed into the house, slamming the door close so hard the hinges were loosened, and she flung her uniform jacket, clean of the blood and rips sustained from that fateful day, onto the couch. The brand new couch by the way, which Weiss had picked out from a catalogue when Blake couldn't be bothered to care. They had almost purchased a relatively pointless sofa that could transform into a bunk bed, which was the only time Blake protested. Weiss normally would've been against such a niche type of furniture as well, but bunk beds. Sun found the prospect of swinging himself on top to sleep exciting, but it was much more expensive than the plain regular sofa they ended up with and so such a wonderful device was left unsold. Blake spent twenty minutes explaining to Weiss why they couldn't buy it, aside from its useless ability. Weiss was not used to such a foreign concept like saving money. When she lived with her father she was able to get whatever she wanted!
"Long day at work?" Weiss asked, entering the living room at around the same time.
Blake plopped onto the couch, "Please give me one reason not to strangle my boss."
"It's illegal."
"The law never stopped me before."
Weiss rolled her eyes, "Fine. It's immoral."
The faunus threw her head back, sagging into the comfortable seat and embracing the cushion next to her, when she suddenly noticed an aroma wafting from the kitchen, "Wait. What's that smell?"
"Dinner."
"Din-I forbade you from cooking!" Blake stood up, eyeing the plates sitting on the table.
Weiss strolled over to the kitchen, "I didn't set fire to the stove this time!"
"I don't care! You're not supposed to cook-" Blake too entered the kitchen after her and to her surprise, the meals were not charred black as she had expected. Of course there was a strong possibility its taste was not as pleasant as its appearance, but at the moment when the so-called chef couldn't boil water without it somehow bursting into flames, the result was impressive.
Weiss was for whatever reason not as calm, "Wait a second where is-Zwei! No! Bad dog!"
The black and white corgi that had been living with them the past few months had dragged one of the plates to the corner, gobbling up what seemed to be some sort of beef dish. Little remained for Blake to be able to make out what it was.
"You slobbering little mangy mutt!" Weiss called, "I had to redo that dish four times!"
"What? Re-do?" Blake dashed to the refrigerator, flinging open the freezer door, "What happened to the ribs!? You used them all up!?"
"Of course I did," Weiss swung her arms to the front of her body, crossing them, "They've been in that freezer for so long. It's a miracle I managed to grill them into something that resembled food."
Blake grabbed hold of Weiss' shoulders, "They've been in that freezer for so long because we were saving them!"
"Saving them for what? The longer they're in there the tougher and grimier they'll be. I don't know about your tastes but I'd rather not have game food."
"Because unlike your family, fresh food is not a commodity!" Blake threw her arms up, "They were on sale for a ridiculous price, so I bought a lot to save them for the times when grocery prices are too high!"
"Well excuse me, we live in a penthouse. I didn't realize we were so strapped for money considering our lavish surroundings," Weiss shook her head, "We seemed to be so well-off in the beginning."
Blake growled, "That was before a third person added to the expenses!" At the same time she stopped her contract killings. Little did both Weiss and Sun know, most of her income came from the shadiest of her jobs and without the thousands of lien to almost tens of thousands for every one of her successful hits, keeping a place as grand as this would become all the more difficult.
"If you'd allow me to collect the insurance money we would not be having this problem."
"For the last time Weiss, that's fraud!"
"So is escaping from prison and attempted murder, but you don't see me pointing that out."
Blake could feel a headache seeping deep into the back of her skull and all she wanted was to sleep this out and be away from her insufferable roommate. It wasn't helping that the dog began to bark during their argument, again not wanting to be left out, "Gah. Fine. I'm going for a nap. You clean this up. Never cook again. No objections."
"Objections?" Weiss stepped back as if she were personally attacked, "You do realize this food is for you?"
"What?"
Weiss pulled up a chair, "You really think I would eat all this myself? What do you think I've been doing?"
"Everything possible to make me regret saving you."
Weiss sighed, "And I'm eternally grateful for that, but if you're going to keep me cooped up in this house with nothing to do for the rest of my life I'm not going to sit around being a deadbeat you need to support."
Despite her following words, Blake sat down, "I'm still figuring out a way to get you out of the country."
"Yes and when will that happen?"
"When the opportunity presents itself," She reached for a fork, poking holes into a sweet potato.
"Oh when the opportunity presents itself you say? Well in the meantime I'm going to renovate the guest room-oh excuse me, I meant my room." And with that she slipped back into the room she came from.
Blake began chewing on the food, finding that it was surprisingly decent. The broccoli was unfortunately too salty however, which led to Blake wondering how on earth Weiss even managed to do such a thing. Broccoli was never meant to have much salt in the first place. She soon finished in silence, clearing table of the dirtied plates. Weiss had called out one last time when she heard the china clinking together that she was going to wash up instead, which Blake figured was fine. It wasn't like Weiss was so incompetent with home economics she'd smash all her plates, was she? As Blake headed towards the washroom to rinse her hands she noticed Zwei following.
"No. No. You go to Weiss. Leave." Blake murmured, still wary of the dog even after it had been living here for a few months. In fact why was it still here? She was going to eat Yang alive tomorrow for never taking the dog back. Ruby had wanted to but they realized with her lack of job and her almost lack of a sister never being home she wasn't going to have much time or means to keep the canine's spirits up, so it remained in the penthouse, forever making Blake's supposedly relaxing home all the more tense.
But Zwei would not let up, so Blake picked up her pace. She tried to slam the bathroom door in his face but was not quick enough, so she headed for the second bathroom located in her own master bedroom, but still the dog followed. This of course escalated to the point that the noise of a fallen lamp post could not be ignored. Weiss exited the room.
"What is going on-Blake! Why are you on the ceiling fan!?"
"Please take the dog with you." She pleaded, still clinging on with the corgi standing on its hind legs pawing at any of Blake he might be able to reach.
Weiss crouched down and picked the dog up, "C'mere Zwei. Awww, who's a cute little puppy! You're a cute wittle puppy! Are you a good dog? Yes you are!"
"Why are you encouraging him!?"
"He only chases if you run," Weiss explained, "Come, you may sleep in my room. That’s correct, it’s now my room, but it can also be our room. That way you won’t bother the frightened little kitten on the ceiling."
With the door closed yet again, Blake returned to the floor, exhaling a sigh of relief and looking forward to ending the long day. Unfortunately just as she entered her room, her phone rang. She was thinking of letting it ring and go to voicemail, not wanting to bother with whoever was on the other end. She was not going to return for the night shift no matter what the facility wanted, and if Yang was calling to reschedule she would not allow her to. As she fell forward into her pillow, she heard the voicemail go off, her own automated message informing the caller that she was not available, but she would get back to them as soon as she can. Blake could feel her entire face fusing into the pillow, sleep overwhelming all other senses but it was suddenly interrupted.
"How disappointing Blake, to let me go to voicemail. That is fine. You better be listening to this. It may not be six months yet, but you have another hit. And while you still might be stewing in your morals, this is not a hit you want to ignore."
Her heart was in her ears.
