Bellringer

a LegionOfMisfits / Al_Hats collabfic

Chapter 2

Pain. Not a hangover, not bruises, just pain. Thathe sides what Yang woke up to.

It was everywhere. It was persistent. And it only made her madder. She rotated her gaze from the stark grey ceiling of the cell where she had woken to look out the simple metal bars. She swore. Her gaze swiveled again and she saw her fellow inmates; three other gamblers who had been thrown in after their antics at the fight had gotten out of hand. None of them held a candle to the blonde brawler though, and all three watched her warily from their own side of the cell.

She realized that she was in need of relief and looked to the small, dirty toilet that crouched in one corner of the cell. She shot another glance at the three troublemakers and they got the message clear enough. They averted their gazes and one even whistled quietly while she squatted and did what she had to do. When she was done, she pulled her pants back up around her waist and stood, stretching sore muscles in her entire body. She could hear voices outside the cell, but the speakers were out of her vision.

Time passed and she could still hear the distant sound of voices before finally, the sources stepped around a corner and into her view. A Vale police officer, looking severely disgruntled, and behind him and even more cross Sun Wukong. Yang almost laughed. He looked every part the disapproving parent. Or at least he would, if he himself didn't look like he had just fought off an army of Beowolves in an alley. His shirt was undone at the top three buttons, one sleeve was torn and there was a pattern of reddish-brown specks on the cuff of his right hand. He had a bruise swelling on his knuckles and at some point his lip had been split. He beckoned to her and the three inmates watched in silence as the guard ushered her out, into the waiting arms of her savior.

Outside, Sun and Yang walked abreast down the sidewalk towards Yang's apartment, and Yang listened quietly while Sun ranted.

"Irresponsible, reckless, I mean, Jesus Yang, what the fuck did you think was going to happen? I mean, I've seen you do some stupid shit, but I think that takes the cake. They were still picking up that poor bastard's teeth when they wheeled him into the ambulance, you know that? Stupid! I swear, people tell me I do dumb, irresponsible things, but I've never even considered-"

"I know, OK?" she said miserably. "I know I just-"

"You what?" he asked, stopping mid-stride. He faced her, normally carefree demeanor replaced by an expression of exasperated anger. God, he does look like Dad, she thought with a twinge of melancholy. "What exactly did you do, Yang?"

She felt the rage boil inside her, and in a moment it spilled over. "He was White Fang, OK? Is that what you want to hear! I did that to him because he was White Fang!"

The street was all-but deserted at this time of night, and Sun was thankful for that. Her voice echoed dimly through the alleys and streets, only interrupted briefly by a passing car. White… No, there was no way. Her grabbed her wrist and dragged her behind him, despite her protests. He didn't stop until they reached her apartment, where he opened the (unlocked) door and threw her inside, closing the door sharply behind them.

"What the fuck, Sun?!" she asked angrily before he shushed her.

"Keep your voice down, it's the middle of the night!" He ran a hand through his hair, mind racing. "You... He... Yang, you're wrong. There's no way. The White Fang have been disbanded for years, ever since... You made a mistake."

She shook her head vehemently. "I know what I saw, Sun. He had a White Fang tattoo right here." She pointed to the spot on her own neck where the tattoo had been on the opponent and Sun rubbed his eyes and saw that Yang's own were brimming with tears. "He's one of them," she repeated solemnly. "Or he was... Either way, he deserved everything he got a dozen times over."

"Yang, you don't understand. He wasn't Faunus." This gave her pause.

"You mean you couldn't tell he was Faunus?"

"No, I mean he wasn't a Faunus. I can tell, OK? A Faunus in a crowd of humans stands out like a sore thumb and this guy didn't set off any alarms. You probably saw the tattoo and thought it was the White Fang logo, but really it could have been anything."

Yang slumped onto the lone chair that sat in the center of her living space. She brushed the strands of molten gold cascading down her head distractedly. Sun looked around for a moment and spotted a coffee pot in her kitchen. Quickly washing out the pot as best he could, he set a fresh pot of the liquid on and found two mugs. These he set aside for a moment while he retreated into Yang's bedroom. She almost broke her silent reverie to tell him to get the fuck out of her room, but he emerged a moment later carrying a heavy woolen blanket, which he unceremoniously tossed over Yang while he fetched the coffee.

A moment later the two sat; Yang blanketed and lost in the comfort of her shitty old chair and Sun cross-legged on the floor. Both sipped their coffee idly and waited for the other to engage the conversation. Surprising both of them, it was Yang who finally initiated.

"What's going to happen now?" She tried to hide it, but the fear was there. It lurked just beneath the surface of her voice, threatening to wash over and escape. Sun's own voice was deathly calm; a forced stoicness.

"I won't lie, Yang, it's going to be bad. That guy you beat up is a big-shot underground fighter in Atlas, from what I've heard. If- when he recovers, he'll be pissed. If you're lucky, he'll talked everything you own and have you whacked in a dark alley. If fate doesn't swing your way, he'll still take everything you own, but he'll also force you into servitude for the rest of your life."

Yang's eyes widened and she nearly threw her coffee mug. "That's bullshit! He... He can't... That's illegal!"

Sun looked at her as though she was joking. "So is breaking every bone in someone's face. Yang, you need to think here. If you stay, you're fucked; so why not come with me? I can get you the help you need, let things cool down for a while. We can go to Beacon-"

"No," she answered flatly. "Forget it. Sun, I appreciate all this; really, I do. But I've been taking care of myself for four years. I can manage a few angry knuckle-draggers."

Sun would have been amused at the thought had he not been so fearful for Yang's safety. Yang rubbed her forehead and drained the last of her coffee, leaving only dregs. It would be a while before she could fall asleep, but she needed to try.

She stood and walked toward the door, Sun sighing as he took the hint. They stood for a moment in the open doorway.

Sun inspected Yang's deadbolt for a moment before tapping it with his knuckles and stepping out. "At least promise to get a decent security system. And Yang? Just... Be careful. We've lost enough already."

She resisted the urge to slam the door in his face, but instead she closed it and slumped against the wood. She folded like an envelope, hands enveloping her head. She did not move the entire night.

Dawn came far too soon, but Yang ignored the sounds of morning and made her way to the aging radio she kept on side of the round table that occupied a quarter of her kitchen. She blew the dust off the top of the machine - a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday. He figured that she could use it to "spruce up life in that dreary little dorm of [hers] at Beacon." It had sat in her Beacon dorm scarce a month before things went awry. Now it sat here; half the time her close friend and the other half a reminder. A grim reminder.

She turned the aging nobs, listening to the wave of crackles and peaks in the pitch as it rose and fell like a swelling tide. Finally she found the channel she sought and sat in a simple, high-backed chair as the sound of the radio host filled the room.

She'd picked up listening to the news from Her. She had always liked to hear about what was going on elsewhere, and Yang had always told Her She was weird for it. Who wanted to listen to a bunch of gloom and doom when there was so much else on? They'd argue about it in that way they'd had; never meaning any of it but merely enjoying the argument because it gave them reason to sit and listen to each other's voices. Then they'd laugh and Yang would switch it over to the trashy music she still enjoyed.

The lady on the news sounded like a stuck-up bitch reading off a cue card, but Yang listened intently anyway. Something something civil rights protest something higher gas prices something house fire. She tuned out most of the garbage before focusing in on what mattered to her.

"Police were called late last night after an organized underground boxing match took a turn for the worst. A famed Atlesian fighter who has elected - through a representative - to remain anonymous was hospitalized following an unprovoked assault by his opponent: purportedly a young woman who has also remained unidentified.

"Police are not actively pursuing this woman, as she was bailed out early this morning by yet another anonymous party. From 106.7 FM, I'm Lisa Lavender. In an unrelated story…"

Yang shut off the radio and stretched, a chain of pops and cracks running up her back. She hadn't even thanked Sun for bailing her out. Stupid, reckless and ungrateful. Was it any wonder that her friends hadn't bothered to come and find her in over a year?

She sat for a long moment before she felt something she hadn't in a long time. After a while, things that weren't used frequently fell out of habit. After four years of fighting and forcing herself not to rely on her aura, Yang had stopped recognizing the brief moments where it would flare in response to an incoming blow.

So, when it flared there in front of her window, she knew something must be very, very wrong.

The blinds were drawn but as she flipped open a single shade the light streamed through. She peered out through the tiny gap and scanned the street outside. Nothing out of the ordinary. But her aura wouldn't have alerted her if there wasn't something out there. She shut the blinds and ran a hand through her hair. Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she had eaten? She wandered to her meager kitchen and withdrew a few slices of aging bread. Stale but not moulded, she dropped them in the toaster and waited while they jumped. She ate them plain and washed the carbohydrates down with a fresh cup of coffee.

The wall clock read 12:22. Too early to head back to the club, and she was skeptical about going back at all. If things were as bad as the news report and Sun had made it sound, returning to the club might prove to be the latest in a long line of questionable decisions. She wasn't scared, but seeing that man last night... Whether he was White Fang or not, her thoughts had triggered too many painful memories. Backlash. All manner of old, unhappy, far-off things.

Instead of leaving immediately, she made plans to stop by the little gym on the corner down the street from her apartment. It was usually crowded and she could stick her headphones in and wail on a sack of sand while she made up her mind of where to go next. She made one final resolution though, and walked into her meager bedroom.

The living space was nothing to crow about; a queen bed pushed against a beige wall, a pair of narrow windows, a dresser and a small door leading to a tiny bathroom. Yang made her way to the dresser, ignoring the first few drawers and going straight for the lowest of the containers. The bank slid out and revealed a carved box, easily the most extravagant and expensive belonging in the Spartan apartment.

Yang ran her fingers over the filigree of the box for a moment, tracing the patterns carved into the exotic wood. She took a deep breath and undid the latch, lifting the lid and forcing down an exclamation of pure awe at the contents.

The inside of the box was lined with crushed velvet and displayed two simple gold bracelets, but to Yang those pieces meant more than any other possession in the world. Reaching into the box almost reverently, she withdrew the bracelets and slipped them around her wrists one at a time. She flexed her fingers into fists, turning her wrists and admiring the gilded bands.

"Hey girls," she said quietly to the prized objects. "Been a long time." She sat with the bracelets for a long moment before flipping the familiar switch and watching with a mix of fascination and melancholic nostalgia as the bracelets assumed their familiar shape, encompassing her wrists wholly and whirring with expectation. She smiled. If she didn't know any better, she'd think that Ember Celica as just as anxious for a fight as Yang usually was.

That was interesting, she reflected inwardly. Normally, she'd grin and jump headfirst into a chance to crack some skulls, but there was something about this whole ordeal that didn't sit right with her. She couldn't place it, but deep inside Yang Xiao-Long something was growing that she hadn't felt in a long time.

She was uneasy. She was uncertain. And she was worried.

For once, she actually locked her apartment door behind her. As she made her way down the sidewalk, hands tucked in her pockets, she became aware of how long it had been since she was out and about at this time of day. Vale was always lively during the afternoon, with folks wrapping up the last of their afternoon shopping, running errands and heading home after long days of work.

She reached the gym within a few minutes and pushed open the doors, fully exposing herself to a wave of air-conditioning and sweat that washed over her and broke into a million shimmering scents. She smiled at the familiar odor and stepped inside, walking past rows of machines to the ring that dominated the back of the small building.

A young man with orange hair and a beefier fellow who couldn't be a day over thirty but sported hair as grey as ash were going at each other. Yang watched from ringside as blows were exchanged, each man testing one another at the start of the match. The orange-haired lad ducked under a feint and recoiled as Grey-Hair's left hand hooked him under the jaw. He spat as he began to circle again, the first blow of the match having struck solidly.

The pair reengaged and once again Grey-Hair came out on top, a jab and cross combo dropping his opponent to a kneeling position. Yang's eyes widened as Grey-Hair slammed his knee into the other guy's chin, knocking him to the ground.

The official rang a bell and both the fighters bumped knuckles appreciatively before hopping down from the ring. Yang smiled and nodded, walking over to a heavy bag suspended from the ceiling and taping up her knuckles absentmindedly. She took out a pair of headphones and stuck them into her ears and scroll, respectively, and cranked up her music as loud as it would go.

She loved fighting with a soundtrack. Every rumble of bass synced up perfectly as her fists met the unrelenting leather. Every reverb set the bag shaking on its chain. Sweat beaded and dripped down her forehead, falling and splashing on the concrete floor as she relentlessly hammered the bag. A sort of manic grin coalesced on her face and she only became aware after several moments that she was not alone.

Yanking out one earbud and suddenly halving the volume of the Achieve Men's first album in two years, she gave a sidelong glance to her new companion. The grey-haired fighter from the ring was looking at her curiously.

"Most folks don't go at a bag like that unless they've got a lot of something to get out," he said astutely. He extended a tape-wrapped hand. "I'm Haron."

Yang regarded him semi-suspiciously for a moment before giving the hand a pump and returning to her merciless assault on the sack of sand before her. "Yang," she said out the corner of her mouth as she struggled to keep her breathing regular.

Haron nodded. "You've got a good stance. You fight?"

Again, Yang paused to shoot him an inquisitive glance. He seemed far too friendly for this place. "Yeah, sometimes," she said with a shrug. "Why are you so curious?"

He backed off a few inches, holding up his hands. "Hey, not trying to be nosy - just making conversation. Never hurts to be polite." Despite his best efforts, Yang noticed his pupils straying up and down her form. An off-white tank-top and basketball shorts didn't leave much to the imagination. She nodded and gave a coy smile.

"You're right, it doesn't." A thought struck her then, one that she didn't even realize had been prying at her. "You fought pretty well up there," she said with a nod toward the now-vacant ring. Haron gave a humble gesture.

"Wasn't much of a fight," he said with just a touch of confident swagger. That wasn't so bad. Yang admired confidence.

"Yeah well, I thought that move of yours was pretty impressive. What, jab-hook follow-up and then a knee to the jaw when they were down? Where'd you pick up something like that?" She saw his eyes widen as recognition of her understanding hit him. She smiled.

He returned the gesture, scuffing his shoes on the cracked concrete floor. "Should've figured I couldn't put one past the Firework," he said with a low chuckle. She sound made the hairs on the back of Yang's neck stand on end. Suddenly she became conscious not only of her balled fists, but of the shotgun-bracers seemingly waiting for a chance to get back to their intended purpose.

"That what they're calling me now?" she asked.

"Does it really matter what they call you? A woman brawler at Gideon's club... I saw you a couple nights ago; that was where I picked up that little trick of yours with the knee. But I didn't bother to stop in and see the next night's match. Guess I was still sore that I lost so much the first night I went to watch you." He saw Yang's eyes flash and his smile grew, never reaching his eyes but somehow managing to contort his entire face.

"So imagine my surprise when I hear that a woman at Gideon's put an Atlesian ring-champ on the hospital. No names, of course, but... Well..."

Yang heard a click and looked down to see the compact pistol that Haron had just drawn from his belt. His grin was merciless. "That fellow you put in the hospital? A couple of his boys stopped by Gideon's while I was there picking up on what happened. He's offering 10,000 lien to anyone who can give him info about you; double that to anyone who can bring you in."

I should have listened to Sun, she thought miserably as she considered her options. The gun was pressed tight against her abdomen. Her aura might - might - lessen the severity of a point-blank shot, but even so an injury would hamper her ability to fight. If it didn't kill her. And seeing as going along quietly wasn't a preferable alternative, she needed to think of a way to get Haron's gun away from him.

She gave her most coquettish smile. "Y'know Haron, there are easier ways to get me to go home with you."

The bounty hunter laughed - a short, barking sound more reminiscent of an animal than a man. "Nice try, Yang. But those folks I mentioned? The ones from Gideon's? They're already on their way. Have been since the moment you walked in. All I need to do is keep you... Docile until they arrive."

Yang's smile grew, and like Haron's it was as false as a promise made in a moment of passion. "Gonna be kind of hard to do that without your gun, isn't it?"

The flicker of uncertainty on his face - the moment of hesitation - was more than enough. Ember Celica sprang up around Yang's wrists in the blink of an eye and before Haron could even consider a possible course of action, a shot of Dust-fueled buckshot sent him spiraling backwards.

Yang almost felt pity. A shot like that was mortal, more likely than not. But if there was one thing that she had learned in the last four years, it was that guilt for what you've done is usually a sign that you would have died if you hadn't done it.

Her guilty satisfaction curdled as screams echoed throughout the gym, folks running out the doors and into the street. What concerned Yang though was that Haron was already back on his feet. He grimaced as he shifted, but already the luminescent layer of protection that had shielded him from the blast was returning to its dormant state. Not a mark on him. His aura had fully protected him from what - to anyone without proper training - would have been a lethal hit.

With a snarl, Haron raised his gun and started squeezing off shots. Semi-automatic fire ripped the heavy bag behind Yang to shreds as she rolled out of the way, rising to a low crouch and blocking an incoming shot with one of Ember Celica's armored plates. The round screamed off and struck an elliptical machine, sending up a cloud of sparks as Yang advanced.

Her aura flickered and buzzed again and again, warning her which way to dodge to avoid the incoming shots. By the time only a few meters remained between them, Haron's ammunition run dry. He tossed the pistol aside and assumed a defensive stance, taking Yang's attack in stride. She swung with a heavy overhand, launching her body a few feet into the air with a blast from her gauntlets and descending like a meteor.

Haron was ready, his right hand grabbing Yang's right wrist as his left swung brutally on her torso. She felt the blow, slamming into the hard ground and bouncing before he was on her again. She kept her hands up, weaving and pushing away the blows he threw at her. She saw an opening and slammed a left hook into Haron's jaw, knocking him back a few feet. He slid and spat as his aura shimmered again. He was weakening. A thin line of blood traced down the center of his chin from a busted lip and his indigo eyes were brimming with malice.

"I never favored guns," he said, circling his opponent warily. "Always preferred to get up close and personal." To put emphasis on his statement, he jumped forward again and feigned high before slamming a fist into Yang's gut. Her aura was stretched the breaking point, already weakened from years of minimal use. Haron's other hand wrapped around her throat and thrust her into the ground, pinning her. She struggled to attack but every attempt to slam the trigger of Ember Celica resulted in an increase in pressure. He wasn't afraid to break her neck, she realized. He grinned maniacally before the sound of automatic weapons fire filled the eerily quiet space. Yang's heart hammered in her ears as Haron winced.

"That's enough, Haron," said a voice from towards the door. Haron's grip slackened only slightly and Yang gasped for air through the tiny gap this afforded her. Haron's eyes never left her though, and the crushing pressure remained.

"Hell with that, you masked sonofabitch. Your promised 20,000 lien for bringing this bitch in, and that's exactly what I intend to do." He hesitated for only a moment and Yang leapt on the opportunity. She jammed her fist into Haron's gut and slammed off a shot, Dust-fueled BB's and fire sending him backwards yet again. He crashed into an exercise machine and fell to a heap before struggling to his feet. His aura flickered and died and he collapsed weakly to the floor. Yang turned her attention to the new threat.

In the corridor created by a multitude of exercise machines, perhaps a dozen men and women stood, clad in simple grey tunics and black hoods. White masks covered their faces, but Faunus features were clearly visible. A man toting a machine gun bore the ears of a dog, a swordsman's long rat tail twitched visibly and a pair of antlers towered above the rest of the party. At their head was a lone man, a pair of boar's tusks protruding from under his mask. He stepped forward, shooting a sidelong glance at the crumpled form of Haron.

"Pitiful," he said. His was the same voice Yang had heard when the group had first entered.

She regarded the newcomers with an appropriate measure of hesitance and hostility. Haron had mentioned that the White Fang had been alerted when Yang had first walked into the gym. She grit her teeth as he spoke again.

"You know who we are." It was not a question; merely a statement of fact, as carefree as though he was observing that the sun was shining. Yang spit.

"You're White Fang," she said, the words bitter on her tongue.

Tusks nodded. "And you are Yang Xiao-Long; daughter of Huntsman Taiyang Xiao-Long, sister of Huntress Ruby-Rose. Student at Beacon academy and a girl with too much skill and too many grudges for her own good."

Yang snarled. "Too many grudges? Please. You bastards know exactly what you've done… and what it looks like you're only too willing to do again."

Tusks gave a sick sort of smile as he withdrew a cigarette from his vest and lit the end, sticking the other side into his mouth beneath the mask and inhaling. He lowered the cigarette and sighed. "Miss Xiao-Long you have to understand; this is business. You attacked one of ours, so now we need to see to it that such a thing does not occur again."

Yang grit her teeth. Business, he called it. She raised her hands a little higher and ran her fingers over Ember Celica's triggers. Twelve was tough odds - White Fang weren't common thugs; they were trained and usually had unlocked auras. They were tougher and better fighters than most, and numbers could easily overwhelm.

If Yang could hold them off long enough for police to arrive she might have a chance, but the distinct lack of sirens in the distance told her she shouldn't hold her breath. "Come on then, shitheads. You want to conduct business, step into my office." She cocked Ember Celica to emphasise her point and Tusks shook his head as he took another drag on his cigarette.

"Miss Xiao-Long, you may be reckless but you've never been stupid. Your Huntsman friends aren't coming. The police won't be here in time. You can come quietly or we can drag you."

"I wouldn't advise either of those," came the voice from behind the party.

A few of the White Fang were dumb enough to turn, their broken focus providing just the opportunity that Yang needed. She launched herself forward with two coordinated blasts from her gauntlets, rocketing through the air and delivering a kick to the gut of the nearest White Fang. He spun backwards, bowling over one of his compatriots before the fighting began in earnest.

Yang ducked under a man's sword and jammed a fist under his chin, slamming the trigger and launching the terrorist upwards with enough force to crack the ceiling where he struck. Another leveled his rifle and sent out a burst of fire. Yang's aura flared and she felt the sting as one of the rounds made impact and bounced off the soulful barrier that surrounded her. She grabbed the barrel of the Faunus' gun and twisted it from his grasp before slamming the butt-end of the weapon into his face with enough force to crack his Grimm-mask.

Tusks was in a flurry, calling out commands to his subordinates as a series of shotgun blasts emanated from the door. Through a crack in the Faunus' line, Yang could see a figure clad in a white jacket with a popped collar swinging a pair of fire-spitting nunchaku at the mass of extremists. One man was unlucky enough to be caught before the onslaught, and his aura flared like a beacon before bursting. The figure wielding the nunchaku swung around on his axis and delivered a roundhouse kick that sent the defenseless White Fang member sprawling.

The guns came together and formed a two-meter long staff which twirled in the air like a helicopter blade before being brought about in a wide arc and knocking back three grunts with a single blow. One of the men flew Yang's way and she raised her right hand, ramming a fist into the unlucky Faunus' shoulder and slamming him into the ground.

Yang's aura alerted her just in time for her to duck under a sword blow that could have taken her head off. Tusks glared at her, blade held in a relaxed and confident grip as his eyes burned like miniature suns. Yang deflected a blow from his sword and swung at him with her offhand, swearing as he twisted out of the way and swung his sword downward in a vicious arc. Yang's aura took the hit just below the shoulder, but she winced in pain as the last of the protective force gave way. Another hit like that and she may well lose the arm. She leapt back out of Tusks' range and sent a cloud of buckshot towards him, which he leapt through with minimal result and slashed at her again.

Yang became aware that Sun was at her side now, and the pair pushed Tusks back in tandem. Every blow from the staff that Tusks deflected was followed immediately by a flaming punch, and through the crimson that stained her eyes to the roots, Yang could see that the White Fang officer was wavering.

Finally, he lost his footing and tripped over the prone form of one of his battered comrades. He seemed to suspend in midair for a moment before Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang arced crosswise and struck him in the abdomen. He crumpled in mid air and struck the far wall of the gym, leaving only the scent of gunsmoke and the faint groaning of the beaten extremists.

The two victors wasted no time in vacating. Both rushed down the street as the sound of sirens approached distantly. They stopped at a street corner blocks away and saw flashing lights surround the gym. Yang panted like a champion sprinter as Sun found his way to her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice brimming with concern.

Yang nodded weakly. "I'll be fine. But we need to get somewhere safe. My apartment is the other way; on the far side of a bunch of cops I really don't want to deal with right now."

Sun nodded. "Mine too. Follow me; I think I know a place where we can lay low for a while."

Yang was in no position to argue, so she followed the monkey Faunus, her adrenaline rush slowly dying down. She realized something, as the pair of them made their way through the streets. She had just emerged barely victorious from her first serious fight in years. She was haggard, sore and were it not for Sun, she'd likely be dead.

And she loved it.

AN - Whew. And thus we have the second chapter. Nearly 6,000 words; far-and-away the longest chapter I've written for any fic so far. Lots of filler but important set-up to the fun stuff that will come later on. And I feel we balanced it well with some nice action. Good to give Sun some time in the... sun... Anyway, this will have repercussions, and we'll get to see plenty more Sun/Yang tag-teaming later on. This is honestly the story that I've had the most fun writing since Blonde Roast and seeing as it's Al's first attempt at writing any sort of extended piece, I'm only too happy to collaborate and produce something that people seem to be enjoying!

On an aside, I'd like to thank my part-time friendly rival, part-time womb-mate Vanessa for helping me with this chapter. Yesterday I broke my arm and she was so kind as to type for me while I read these passages out loud. Got some weird looks, but it carried over correctly so I guess all's well that ends well.

Also, don't forget about Haron. I know OCs are a turn-off for a lot of folks, but there's more to him than meets the eye, and you haven't seen the last of him yet.

Next time: more action, more heavy stuff, more Solar Flare and a few familiar faces to liven it all up. Hope you're all as excited as Al and I are. As always, please leave a comment or review so that we can learn what you guys want and improve the story. As Yang will learn soon enough, the surest way to avoid making new mistakes is to learn from the ones you've already made. Thanks for reading!