Chapter 24: Driving in Wedges.

The great family of Man is remarkable in its mastery of the art of division. Even when bound by a common goal, the greatest unifier of all, we seek confrontation still.

"I'm just saying, Darius. I mean, I get that you've got this whole 'tall, dark and brooding' shtick on lockdown, and I suppose you do get away with it more often than you should… but was the cape really necessary?"

Of all the things in the universe and even in the particular tiny bit thereof where the world of Remnant had made its humble dwelling, the seasons and their endless cycle would have to be one of the most fascinating still. A such simple concept, in theory: indeed, even a child is able to comprehend that as the planet makes its way along Solaris' orbit, the difference of angles under which its glorious rays impact this tiny rock would inevitably cause the amount of thermal energy reaching it to fluctuate, thus causing an overall increase or decrease in temperature as time went on.

Yet one need merely look outside to marvel in the depth of changes that occur as consequence of this seemingly banal concept! As the winter's grasp on this planet slowly weakened, the sun itself, previously a murky white disc obstructed by walls of falling snow, once again shone in its full majestic beauty, and with it, the very world began to wake from its three-months-long slumber. The trees, previously burdened by heavy caps of snow amassing between their branches, have shaken that weight off their nonexistent shoulders, their exposed branches now completely covered in growths that would eventually go on to become buds and, later still, leaves. The skies that instilled winter depression merely a week ago with the hopeless dullness of their grey hue once again captivated the eyes of the unlucky students trapped inside their classrooms as they assumed their Light-given coloration of oh so aptly named celestial blue. Why, the very air we breathe had undergone drastic changes. No longer would it torment our lungs with the damp staleness of a winter that has long outstayed its welcome. No, instead, one could, for once, take in a full chest of the winds of change blowing straight into their face, reinvigorating their senses for the coming spring. The scent of Mother Nature itself coming to reclaim what's hers.

Just… don't mind the occasional pile of dog feces thawing out on the sidewalk.

Unsurprisingly, as the insects, the rodents and all the other critters would slowly abandon their earthbound dwellings in celebration of spring's advent to Remnant, so too would the humans follow suit to enact proper preparations for what was to come. And by the Light, was there something to prepare for.

The Vytal Festival. Arguably the single most celebrated event across all four Kingdom, this festivity got its name from the small, otherwise unremarkable island of Vytal, stranded in neutral waters slightly north of Sanus. It was there, about eighty years ago, that the Kingdoms of Atlas, Vale, Mistral, and Vacuo signed a treaty commemorating the end of the bloodshed that was the Great War, with the Festival being designated an international holiday to be celebrated every two years as a sign of unity and peace between the sides. And boy oh boy is it a doozy.

By itself, the Festival is nothing less than a full month (June, typically) dedicated to celebrating the infinite diversity of life and creed in Remnant. Chosen by a random lot, a Kingdom is given the high privilege of hosting the Festival, whereupon it swings its metaphorical – and literal – gates wide open for everyone to come and indulge in the traditions and cultures of each other, all while marveling wide-eyed at the incredible things the Kingdoms' representatives brought from home to show the eager public. Wonders of engineering and technology previously considered straight up impossible; all fruits of the Atlesian genius and their proclivity for tireless labor. Tales – and testaments – of unbelievable feats of strength and cunning borne of the Vacuoan people's unbreakable will to survive and thrive in the harsh environment of the Charred Plains, shrouded in a thick veil of mysticism and delivered spot-on with a rather charming accent. The Mistrali, following suit, never failed to use the opportunity to spread the gospel of Light ever further across Remnant, reaffirming the faithful and reaping a fair harvest of new converts every two years with stunning displays of what could be described through no other words than miracles, typically those of healing. And, with the Kingdom of Vale to have been granted the great honor of hosting the Festival's fortieth anniversary, all of this stood to be delivered with the delicious topping that was its majestic beauty, with intricate architecture of yore residing in harmony with the newest designs of the local architects, the capital itself a beautiful pearl adorning the Kingdom's already breathtaking landscapes. Yes, the Festival is a sight to behold, indeed.

But just as the Festival represents the culmination of everything that the people of Remnant are capable of achieving, it too has one crowning event to bring it to completion, the pinnacle of the merrymaking and, for many, the main reason to actually make the journey to the Kingdom and witness it firsthand, as opposed to merely watching the televised broadcast. That would be the Tournament. Conducted at the end of the Festival amidst the hulking colossus that is the Amity Colosseum, a product of coordinated labor of all four Kingdoms capable of levitating its way to any select one, the Tournament sees the combatants of all four Hunter academies clash blades in glorious combat for the title of champion, and serves as a reminder to both the participants and the spectators that even in peace, excellence is a goal worth striving for. And although one can say with complete honesty that any and all teams that choose to represent their academy at this grand event are combatants like no other, and, indeed, every subsequent tournament had seen a demonstrable leap in the mastery shown, one would also be foolish to ignore statistics indicating that in any given tournament, the odds were heavily slanted in favor of Beacon's representatives, with the Valean academy claiming a whopping thirteen prizes out of thirty nine, with Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo following neck-to-neck with ten, eight, and eight respectively.

With the event of such magnitude a mere three and a half months away, it's easy to understand why the city of Vale was awash with energy. Construction workers and delivery vehicles darting to and fro along the busy streets, scaffolds erected at every third or so building, decorations and banners being put up across the walkways and on the windows: the city was buzzing with anticipation and activity.

It was amidst this chaos, this erratic swirling of life, that Team RWBY and their plus one elected to spend one of the rare non-weekend free days they had just taking in the sights and the overwhelming energy, as they themselves definitely needed some. Having left the semester exams behind, for the most part passing with flying colors bar a few civic ones, all five members of the team felt the need to shake the dust out of their joints and breathe in some air that was not that of the library or of their dorm room. Or, at the very least, three of them did, with the remaining two choosing to follow out of courtesy. As it stood, the team was striding their merry way down a wide street in a direction none of them seemed to discern clearly, with Yang relentlessly mocking Darius' choice of clothing. While the four members of RWBY were sporting their traditional combat outfits, the second Atlesian of the roster donned a black cape atop his usual armor and weapons, concealing the former in their entirety, leaving only his head in the open, complete with an utterly unamused mug.

"You know… I was under the impression we agreed not to talk about each other's wardrobe preferences. Going all the way back to the Initiation, even."

"Really?" Yang blinked a couple times, her gaze unfocused and her face intensely feigning ignorance. "I don't remember anything like that."

"Is that so?" Darius inquired, wide-eyed. "Does that mean I can finally tell you you look like someone working a couple of city blocks away?"

"You did not just…"

"I really did, though. And this really feels like the rerun of the last time, Yang," the Silva shook his head, staring ever so condescendingly at Yang, a smirk etching its way across his lips. "And I'm pretty sure this is the exact reason we agreed not to talk about it."

"Yeah, you're not winning this exchange, Yang," with her eyebrows raised in mild bemusement, Blake decided to defuse the situation before one of the sides attempted to get violent. She couldn't help but feel a vague sense of déjà vu. "On a more serious note, though. Why the cape? Don't feel ominous enough just in your armor anymore?"

With his eyes narrowed, Darius gave Blake a long, hard glare full of suspicion and inquiry in equal measure, before sighing and, for once, opting for the path of least resistance.

"Just the opposite, actually," he rebuked, giving the breastplate beneath the cape a light knock. "Your outfits, ridiculous as they may be, look fairly civilian. Steel plating really, really doesn't. Additionally, you may or may not have noticed over the past months that my weapons don't have sheaths… again, unlike yours. I'd rather people gave me the odd glare over the cape than trying to phone the police whenever they look at me too hard."

"Say, have you tried… ditching the weapons and the armor?" Yang asked, her eyes fluttering in the most innocuous manner, ignoring both her gauntlets sitting firmly on her forearms in their dormant configuration and the fact that in this concrete instance, the Silva wasn't really offered much of a choice.

"Tell you more, I would have…" with a manic grin splitting his face ear-to-ear, Darius, on the other hand, was not about to allow Yang to get away with this little oversight. "Were it not for the fact that you and Weiss, of all people, dragged me out into the city straight out of the examination room! I barely managed to grab the damn thing!"

Evidently satisfied with this rebuttal, the Atlesian then discarded his argument with Yang and redirected his attention to Weiss, pointing at her with great ire and an open palm.

"Speaking of which. Might I inquire of a fellow Atlesian what drove you so towards Vale on this particular day?"

"Your question is most welcome. Unlike your snark," without even looking at Darius, Weiss ran her hand along her ponytail, flinging it at him in a dismissive fashion. She, as it would seem, was absolutely enraptured by the, admittedly, quite captivating view of the activities unfolding around them. Why, her very voice was simply brimming with enthusiasm, something entirely uncharacteristic of her usual self. "Look at this! Is this not just wonderful?"

"I… don't think I ever saw you smile this much, Weiss," next to pick up on Weiss' soaring mood, Ruby, too, was rather dumbfounded. "It's kinda weirding me out."

"How could you not smile?!" Weiss, on the other hand, appeared flabbergasted at her teammates' hesitance to rejoice with her. "A festival dedicated to the cultures of the world!"

"Yes. Just like it was two years ago. And four. And six. Social dynamics indicate two years is a bit short for cultures round the globe to change enough to make a difference in this particular iteration of the festival."

"You. Are such. A bore. There'll be dances! Parades! The Tournament! Besides, it's the fortieth anniversary, there's bound to be something different! And even if you're too edgy to appreciate these kind of things-"

"I beg to differ!"

"You have to at least appreciate the organizational aspect of all this! Just think of how much preparation and planning goes into this event! It's simply breathtaking!"

"A-a-a-and just like that you killed the mood," Yang summarized. "You know… you really know how to take a good thing and make it sound boring."

"I don't know, Yang," in an event as rare as a blue moon upon the sky, Blake took Weiss' side in the argument. Or, at the very least, wasn't in stark opposition thereto. "I think you should be thankful that Weiss takes such… delight in this."

"And why's that?"

"People like her get this entire thing running so that people like you can skip the boring bits and get straight to fighting. It's mutually beneficial, really."

"You know… I'd say you're right, but I can't shake the feeling you're being kind of an asshole about it."

"That's paranoia, Yang. That's where the doctor comes in."

"Definitely being kind of an asshole about it."

"On a completely unrelated note," Darius spoke up again, pressing his finger slightly below his ear. "I have yet to receive an answer to my question. What exactly do you want in Vale, Weiss, and why is it in the docks?"

As the group took a left turn, inadvertently following Weiss' lead, it appeared that Darius was correct in his ascertaining of their location as the port unfolded before them in all of its questionable glory, with a healthy helping of the vibrant fragrance of fish of varying degrees of freshness. Dozens of ships docking and undocking pier to pier, freight vessels unloading and taking on cargo with the delivery vehicles swarming the area in an orderly, ant-like suggestion… and people. Hundreds of them, thousands, disembarking and boarding… though mostly disembarking, taking up the majority of the section immediately accessible to Team RWBY. As one would expect, the host kingdom was already receiving a massive surge of new arrivals, all eager to witness the Festival firsthand.

"Alright, ditto," as the primary accomplice to the monumental deed of dragging Darius out of the academy and into the city, Yang, for the first time, sensed doubt as to the purpose of their expedition. "Remind me again why we're spending our Friday afternoon visiting the docks, of all places? And why did we have to drag him along?"

"Wouldn't be fair if we didn't," Weiss shrugged, turning around to face the group, her posture and her tone growing official. "I've heard the students visiting from Vacuo will be arriving by boat today. A-and as a representative of Beacon I feel it is my solemn duty to welcome them to this fine Kingdom."

Blake bought exactly none of that.

"She wants to spy on them so she has the upper hand in the Tournament."

"You can't prove that!"

"Do I need to?.."

"Whoa… Guys, look over there."

With that conversation cut short with abrupt brutality, the bickering duo, along with Yang, directed their gazes in the same spot that Ruby and, oddly enough, Darius, were staring at with intent. Down the street, smack in the middle of a T-intersection, a battered ruin of what was once some kind of shop lay, its windows shattered, its frames mangled in a mess of splinters and scrap parts and its door straight up missing. All of that covered in copious amounts of yellow tape with clearly legible 'Do Not Cross' and 'Vale Police Force' typed on every square centimeter. And in front of all that mess, two men in white shirts and black trousers stood in quiet conversation, with one holding what appeared to be a scroll covered in blastproof shielding, writing down something with a stylus.

As the group neared the site, Ruby chose to take the initiative, approaching the officers behind the yellow tape:

"What happened here?"

"Robbery," taking his eyes off the scroll and abandoning his scribbling, the nearest policeman slightly turned towards Ruby, giving her a passing glance behind his aviator shades. "Second Dust shop this week, third one just this month. Damn city's turned into a jungle real quick."

"Analogy on-point, too…" his colleague, noticeably younger in appearance and clearly more lacking in attitude, turned to face the team as well, adjusting his own glasses. "Considering who we're dealing with. Darndest thing, though. They left all the money again. Since when does White Fang, of all people, leave free money behind?!"

"What makes you think it's them?" Blake spoke up suddenly, drilling the younger one with her eyes as her expression and posture grew a subtle, yet very distinct sharpness.

"Those folks aren't the subtlest bunch, Miss," the elder officer stood up for his partner, pointing towards the insides of the ruined shop, namely towards one of its corners, where a camera could clearly be seen hanging from the ceiling, even though its stalk was clearly contorted in a manner not meant by the manufacturer. "And that's not the first bit of evidence we got towards this hypothesis in the last months. Doesn't explain why they want so much Dust, though. Whatcha thinking?" The officer looked once again at his companion. The latter simply shrugged.

"I'm thinking we don't get paid enough for this. We just file evidence and call the fixers. Come on."

And with that, the duo disappeared in the depths of the wrecked shop, evidently with better things to do than entertain a bunch of all too curious adolescents.

"White Fang, huh?.." Weiss quietly muttered. Even a fleeting glance at her was enough to realize that any trace of her joyful demeanor was gone without so much as a hint. Jaw clenched tight, eyes focused solely on what little remained of the Dust shop, the poison in her voice seeped into the air itself, turning it noxious. "What an awful bunch of degenerates."

"What's your problem?" Blake turned towards the heiress, staring her down with clear provocation in her gaze.

"My problem?" without even facing her, Weiss simply reciprocated to the glare, staring daggers at Blake in response. "I simply don't care for the criminally insane."

"I dunno, princess," all of a sudden, Yang decided to intervene, quizzically scratching her head. "I'm no psychic, but even I can tell this sounds a tad personal."

"You figure?!" Eyebrows raised high in faux-shock, Weiss sneered at her. "How very astute of you. What's next? You'll realize that Darius over here isn't too fond of them either?"

"Must you bring this up?" Blake sighed, briefly breaking eye contact with Weiss and snatching a brief glimpse of the aforementioned. He stood still slightly behind Ruby, and from the look on his face, he was clearly not excited to be involved. "The White Fang is a collection of misguided Faunus, yes."

"Misguided?!" Weiss almost hissed. "I don't know if you kept up with their agitprop, but last I heard from them, they wanted to wipe humanity off the face of Remnant!"

"So then they're very misguided!" Blake raised her voice before slightly derailing the argument. "Either way it wouldn't explain why they'd need to rob something like two dozen Dust shops across Vale!"

"Blake's got a point, you know," although flustered by her teammate's sudden outburst, the leader of team RWBY felt it necessary to mediate the situation because someone clearly had to. "Besides… the police never caught that Torchwick guy I ran into that one time. Maybe it was him?"

"You heard the officer, right?!" Weiss shook her head in disbelief at her team's evident refusal to acknowledge the simple truth. "Whether or not that Torchwick individual was with them or not, we know for a fact it's White Fang behind the robberies, which can't be good. Those scum only know how to lie, cheat, and steal."

"Alright, now you're just reaching," Yang cut in. "You know that's not true for all of them."

"It's true for enough of them!"

"Somebody stop that Faunus!"

"What the..."

What was about to transition into an all-too-heated argument was cut short by a wrathful cry for help coming, strangely enough, back from the docks. As the team turned around and darted for the piers, with the two officers abandoning the crime scene and following suit, Blake saw Darius almost immediately overtake the rest as the hydraulics in his boots came to life, letting him cover about thirty meters in just about three seconds. Yet as the team swiftly caught up with him, they were presented with an unreasonably comical, if perturbing, scene: a young man of slightly above average height and definitely above average physique hightailing it along the deck of a docked ship, chased by a pair of boathands with little success. Effortlessly leaping upon the railing, he threw a mocking glance towards the poor sods unlucky enough to have to be chasing him and waved at them, accompanied by a farewell brimming with energy:

"Thanks for the ride, guys!"

And with that, the boy simply jumped off the railing, falling a good ten meters towards the pier and sticking the landing without so much as a stumble, immediately taking off from a low start. It was in that moment that Blake, along with the rest of her team, finally managed to get a better look at the runner. Admittedly, there was definitely a thing or two to look at: despite sporting a decent-looking white jacket with a loose collar and sleeves rolled up all the way to his well-defined biceps, the malcontent didn't bother to actually button it up; as a result, a good half of his torso was exposed for the world to see, arguably intentionally. With a pair of light blue cargo jeans and another pair of red and black bracers adorning his legs and forearms respectively, one could argue that he was donning a carefully constructed image of careless refinement… or that the guy really couldn't give any less of a shit about what to wear, instead banking on his body to be the best article of his attire, which, to be fair, would be a smart decision: though his short blonde hair was an utter mess, the rest of his tan-covered body was a shining - literally - example of agility and strength, complete with eyes of bright blue and a long tail covered in fur whose color coincided with that of his hair, currently coiled tightly around a lamp post from which he was hanging. Having eluded capture by the boathands, the misfit decided to give himself a moment of well-deserved rest, hanging upside-down from a nearby lamp post with his legs crossed and his hands swiftly peeling a banana, which he proceeded to consume with great gusto. The sailors, unable to clear the distance between the deck and the pier quite as easily, resorted to flinging insults:

"You get back here, you no-good stowaway!"

"Hey!" the Faunus, having taken offense to the insult of his mastery of the art of stowing oneself away, rebuked with great indignation. "A no-good stowaway would've been caught! I'm a great stowaway!"

There probably was another one coming where that came from, however the boy did not get to expand on his rebuttal as a stone swished through the air and would have landed square across his face if he didn't jerk his head at the last second, evading it with seeming ease. The stone turned out to be tossed by one of the officers, having made their way down the stairs leading to the pier and all the way to the lone lamp post.

"Hey. You get down here this instant," the policeman demanded. To his credit, the Faunus complied… in his own, unique way. Retaliating by flinging the banana peel directly into the officer's face, he swung on his tail and flipped over to land on top of the lamp post, where he let out a sound chuckle over the custodian's enraged mug, then pushed away from his perch and leapt a solid nine meters, complete with a double frontflip for added effect, before transitioning into a roll and a sprint. Covering two whole flights of stairs with but a couple bounds, the miscreant reached the streets and took a sharp right, where Blake, along with the rest of the team, stood perfectly still, completely flabbergasted by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Dashing along the road at breakneck speed, she couldn't help but trace his movements intently, and a mere couple of seconds later he reached the team, continuing his mad dash. Yet in the split second that he stormed centimeters past Blake, she saw him turn towards her, flashing a vibrant smile at her and, to her great befuddlement, winking at her mischievously.

...Milliseconds before running jaw-first into Darius' clenched first, that is, completely eating a vicious right hook that the Silva put all of his considerable body mass into. As his fist tore through space-time at supersonic speeds and collided with the Faunus' jawbone with a dull thump, the latter plummeted on the asphalt like a sack of potatoes, yet Darius was clearly not finished, immediately shifting to his side and driving his steel boot square into his temple, with yet another thump resoundingly echoing through the air. He did not get up.

Reaching out from under his cape and grabbing the stowaway by the throat, the Atlesian effortlessly hoisted him to eye-level, studying his features. The perp was alive, conscious, even, though clearly not enough to even try to resist Darius, as he didn't even attempt to free himself from the Silva's steel grasp.

"A word of advice: when trying to run away from someone, consider looking in front of you," he quietly uttered through his teeth. Blake couldn't judge for the entire team, but she herself shivered at how he said it: with every syllable spoken, anger and contempt permeated into his surroundings, to the point where just standing near him was uncomfortable, forcing her to step back. Darius then released his clutch, dropping the still concussed Faunus on the ground, who immediately grasped his throat as a coughing fit overtook him. Just before her teammate hid behind the cape once again, Blake saw him run the hand with which he almost choked the unlucky lawbreaker down the length of the cloth, as if instinctively wiping it. One didn't need to read his mind to gather that Darius was disturbed to the very core simply by being near the guy, a behavior never seen from him beforehand.

It was at that point that the long arm of the law finally crept up to them, taking a breather pretty much immediately. Noticing how the miscreant already recovered enough to attempt to get up, Darius sighed and stepped forward, bringing his foot down once again, pressing the metallic sole of his boot against his neck, keeping him prone. The culprit clearly did not appreciate it.

"Man… anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?"

Blake could feel Darius' teeth grinding against each other as he desperately held himself back from driving the boot into the ground. For the life of her, she failed to comprehend this overwhelming animosity.

"Officer..." he called, his voice bordering on growling. "If you could please take him off my hands."

"Of course, Sir," abandoning his impromptu break, the younger of the pair approached the Atlesian, taking off a pair of plastic cuffs from his belt… but was stopped by Darius.

"Dimeritium first. He'll break those the second he gets his bearings."

"You jackass!.."

"Yes, Sir," a quick nod and another, slightly looser pair of cuffs emerged from the depths of the policeman's pockets, that of brown, copper-like metal with a baleful crimson glint to it. As both pair of cuffs took their place upon the Faunus' wrists, Darius finally removed the boot from his neck and let the officer take the metaphorical wheel.

"We'll take care of him, Sir. The city thanks you for your assistance."

"Glad to have been of help," the Silva sighed, his voice at this point a hollow string of vowels and consonants strung together, a clear sign of adrenaline venting from his system. "Just… toss him an ice pack or something."

"Oh yeah, real considerate of you..."

"Shove it!" a warning came from the officer, along with him slightly shaking the cuffed perp, causing him to groan and grasp his head. "Not making a good first impression. Now get going."

As the trio departed in the direction of the ruined Dust shop, where, presumably, their car was parked, Darius turned around and looked at Weiss, his eyes cutting deeper than his blades ever could. Arguably.

"Well… There's your competition, Weiss. Hope you're happy."

"You are not pinning this on me," Weiss responded in kind, a scowl crawling across her face. "You think I was looking forward to meeting the dregs among them?"

"Alright, that's it! We need to have a talk," clasping her hands together with great force, Yang stepped up between the two, refocusing the attention of the team on her. "Now, I know you two are very special snowflakes and that your families don't have too great a history with the White Fang, but I'm finding it hard to not begin stereotyping when the only Atlesians I know both have a raging hate-boner for the Faunus. What is your problem?!"

"E-e-e-eh, Yang…" Quietly, Ruby spoke up. "I don't think it's very fair towards Darius…"

"And I think he would've killed the guy if he said another word. Come on, spill it."

Slowly, Darius turned his head towards Yang.

"You know, I'm going to make like that officer and ask you to take your generalizations and fucking shove them. I'm not speaking for Weiss, but I personally fail to sympathize with mongrels seeking cheap thrills at the expense of the law, tail or no tail. Next question."

"O-o-of. Touched a nerve, did I?"

"You figure?!"

"Alright, alright!" Yang slightly raised her hands at the fuming Darius, seeing as flickers of smoke began swirling in the general vicinity of his cape. "Point taken. Lawful Good type stuff, I get it. Still don't think you had to double tap him."

"He'll sleep it off. Probably in the same boat he came in, if I had to wager."

"And if he didn't have aura?"

"Have you ever seen a man without aura hard-break a ten meter fall and immediately start running?!"

Yang just shook her head, turning around.

"Alright, Ice Queen. What's your excuse?"

"Can we not have this talk in the middle of the fucking street, maybe?!"

"Don't weasel around the topic."

"There are people watching us!"

"Then lower your tone, stop paying attention to them, and answer the fucking question," Yang growled, and for a moment, an infernal blaze flashed in her eyes, prompting Weiss to… reconsider her options. "There's clearly bad blood here, so we're talking this through before your vitriol starts ruining things for us."

"If you say so," Weiss hissed. "I simply find it highly ironic that the second we start talking about Faunus breaking the law, a Faunus shows up out of the blue and breaks the law. If that's not the truest testament that I'm right, I don't know what is."

"Wow, way to lump everyone in the same group, Schnee."

"The White Fang doesn't conjure up manpower from nowhere! It's scoundrels like these that make up their bulk!"

That would be where Blake drew the line.

"You're wrong," she replied, stepping right up to Weiss and shaking her head, locking eyes with her. "You're just plain wrong. The majority of the White Fang consists of normal Faunus who grew tired of getting pushed around."

"Well, good for them," Weiss snarled. "Allow me to paraphrase: the only part of them that matters is made up of the likes of him. You know, the part that does the extorting, the blackmailing, the raiding, the murdering and so on. The 'normal' Faunus just quietly condemn them while supporting them and enabling them to continue killing."

"What choice do they have, Weiss?! What else can they do to get the point across to people like you?! People who've been discriminating against them for decades now!"

For a good five seconds Weiss remained silent, simply staring Blake dead in the eyes with intense focus, her own narrowed to slits. And in those eyes, Blake could see her focus slowly but surely crystallize into clarity. And then, into hatred.

And as her mind reflexively began pondering a reason for such unbridled hate to suddenly overtake her teammate, her gut had already pinpointed its origin with perfect accuracy. As the realization sunk in, Blake could feel the blood coursing through her veins to freeze over at the spot.

"I'm going to only say this once, Blake, so listen carefully," Weiss spoke slowly as her right hand reached behind her back, taking hold of Mondtulpe sheathed there. Incidentally, her right foot was equally slowly tracing behind her left one as she assumed her combat stance. "Take. Off. The bow. Now."

There it is.

"Wha?.." Confused, Yang furrowed her eyebrows and instinctively clenched her fists as Weiss' less than subtle change in posture roused the reflexes honed over countless spars of the last semester.

"Weiss, what are you doing?.." Despite definitely catching on to her partner's less than amicable intent, Ruby obviously struggled to make sense of such sudden outburst of hostility on Weiss' end, alternating between looking at Weiss and Blake, uncertain of what action to take.

"This is overstepping it, Weiss! Knock it off!" Blake wasn't certain whether Darius was able to immediately suppress his shock in favor of emotions more befitting the currently electrified atmosphere between the two or if he simply expected events to unfold this way. Admittedly, having known him for as long as she did, she couldn't write off the latter. After all, he did warn her. Several times. Fact of the matter was, he seemed the only one reacting with purpose, immediately stepping in between her and Weiss sideways, leaving his left side concealed from the latter, all while pointing at her with his right hand as black mist was already flushing through it, hiding it firmly beneath a twisted, taloned mockery of an appendage.

"Ten seconds, Blake. Nine..."

On the ground beneath her feet, Blake saw pale contours spring out of thin air, forming the characteristic shape of a glyph with Weiss at its center as the very air around them grew about ten degrees colder.

"Eight..."

"Would you calm down, Weiss?!"

"Seven…"

"Fine, Weiss. Chill," Blake sighed, taking her hand off Gambol Shroud's handle she reflexively grasped, and reaching slightly higher. "You too, Darius. We don't have to get violent."

"That's not what you were saying a second ago," Weiss muttered, her palm still gripping her dagger and her eyes still centered on Blake. Reaching up and to her bow, Blake pulled at the knot to reveal that the 'bow' was, in fact, a simple black ribbon wrapped tightly around a pair of feline ears, their fur merging neatly into her jet black hair. She saw Ruby gasp, ever the innocent soul, while Yang ran her hand across her face, shaking her head slightly and looking into the ground, her own suspicions confirmed truthful. Clutching the ribbon in her hand, Blake returned the look to Weiss, whose eyes were, at that point, reminiscent more of a pair of ice crystals forcibly stuck inside someone's cornea, rather than a natural eye color.

"Happy now?"

"I knew it…" Weiss whispered, her tone a mix of mild shock and boiling hatred. "I fucking knew it! The bow, the attitude, the nonsense you keep spewing about all the oppressed Faunus I personally murder on the daily..."

Blake looked at Darius, still tense of body, standing right in front of Weiss. Although at this particular moment his attention was not on the enraged heiress… but instead, strangely enough, somewhere just above her. And, for a second there, she could've sworn the razor sharp focus he was exhibiting just a second ago waned for a fraction of a second, just enough for his eyes to widen ever so slightly and his pupils to dilate just a little bit before he met Blake's gaze and blinked, sighing and averting his eyes, instead reacquiring Weiss in his sights, who was already looking at him with wrathful indignation.

"Did you know, Silva? Did you know who you were swooning over?"

"I'll go ahead and pretend I didn't hear the last part, Weiss," he growled, and although Blake couldn't see his face for obvious reasons, she could easily estimate it was nothing pleasant, as the two members of her team that could see Darius shivered and inched ever so slightly out of his line of sight. "And yes, I did. Long before you even started to entertain the thought, I suspect."

"You'd be surprised," Weiss remained unabashed. "How long?"

"Figured it out by the end of the second week."

"Wha?.."

"What?!"

"And you didn't tell us?!"

"I'm still here, you know..."

"Silence, you wretch!" Evidently, reminding Weiss of her existence was not the best idea at the current juncture, as her dagger, still clutched tightly by her, sprang out of its sheath on her back with such blinding speed she almost missed the moment between it still sitting in its holster and it funneling Ice Dust through its blade at full throttle as Weiss' deft hand began tracing a pattern in the air…

Yet was interrupted in an utmost disrespectful fashion as Darius' left arm jolted beneath the cape, bringing out one of his sickles in its folded form, with the curvature of the blade running almost parallel to its handle, in a slicing motion. Next thing the group knew the blade was in front of Weiss' throat, with the curved edge ever so lightly pressing against it as both Darius and Weiss froze; the former held his weapon in an unwavering grasp, while the latter glared at him with promises of a thousand painful deaths, knowing that with the blade in contact with her skin, neither her aura nor reflexes would save her.

"Two things, Weiss," he whispered. It was glaringly obvious he was making a conscious effort not to begin outright screaming at her. "First, watch what you say. Blake's still your teammate."

"Not if I can help it..."

"Quiet," he demanded. Miraculously, it worked, as Weiss cut herself off in a middle of what was about to grow into a full-blown rant. "Second, put your bloody weapon away and argue as befits a proper Atlesian. Don't make me take out the other sickle."

Weiss glared at him for another couple seconds.

"Point taken." With that, she slowly sheathed Mondtulpe, taking her hand off the grip, while Darius removed the edge away from her throat and put the scythe back on his waist, adjusting the cape. To his credit, not a single drop of blood ran down the heiress' throat.

"Fine then," Weiss sighed, rubbing her hands together and drilling Blake with her eyes. "I'll give you an argument alright. You wanna know why I despise the White Fang? Why I'm having trust issues when it comes to Faunus?"

Blake returned the odd look. Some small part of her wanted to make a snide remark about this, prod her a little more, yet she quickly suppressed that urge. Even if she could care less about what the entitled heiress had to say, she could at least humor Darius by not undoing all of his efforts to defuse the situation for the sake of a passing laugh.

"It's because I've known nothing from your kind except for hatred and contempt. Because I've lost more people I know to the scum from the White Fang than most soldiers on the frontlines. Because my family has been at war with them for as long as I can remember, and history books are telling me it's actually been longer. Darius over here can attest."

"Just because you've grown up sheltered from the outside world doesn't mean all Faunus are like this!"

"I'm 'sheltered' because I've had a target painted on my back for my entire life!" Weiss screamed, her hand reflexively reaching for her rapier, yet halting just before touching the handle. "My entire family has one of those each! My father has spent more time mitigating the damage done by you animals than raising me!"

That just sounds like shitty parenting to me.

"And then, of course, there's the body count," with the outburst of rage over as abruptly as it began, Weiss moved onto whispering, and her eyes grew raw. "Year after year, overhearing that board member X has just been executed, or that another friend of the family has been murdered by the White Fang," she raised her finger and pointed at Darius, who was looking none too happy for it. "Case in point. Not to mention every Faunus I ever came across giving me the stink eye for reasons I didn't even know. I've yet to see a single positive thing from the White Fang, and for all I care, those 'normal' Faunus that supposedly make up their bulk are all guilty of aiding and abetting. Whether directly or by proxy, they're all murderers, extortionists, and thieves."

"And what are we supposed to do?!" Blake snapped, throwing rationality out of the same window Weiss clearly threw hers. "Ever considered that? How else do we get you to listen to us?!"

"Are you saying this is the best Faunuskind can do? That the best representation you can muster is a bunch of terrorists targeting civilians?!" Weiss sighed, shaking her head. "Why are we even having this argument? Why are you trying to give them justification that even they don't care about anymore?! Look!" Once again she pointed towards Darius, who just clenched his teeth. "Before you stands a living, breathing - though not for the lack of trying on your side, of course - testament to White Fang's atrocities. How can you..."

"That is enough, Weiss," Darius growled, stepping towards the Schnee and leaning over her, looking her in the eyes. "I will only say this once. I sympathize with you. Truly, I do. But if you bring me, or my family, up again, I will punch you. My family's tragedy is not for you to cash in for pity points!"

Weiss looked… dumbfounded, if anything. Even a little bit lost. For the life of her, she could not make sense why he, of all people, would choose Blake's side in this. And frankly, neither did Blake herself.

"Why… why are you defending her?" she asked, taking a step back from him. "After everything her kind did to you?.."

"Because she did not do it, Weiss! She did not kill my family, or any of your friends. Just like I did not raid Faunus ghettos in search of White Fang sympathizers and just like you are not the one paying your Faunus employees below minimum wage while having them slave away in Dust mines! Not a single one of us here is responsible for each other's plights."

"You know your analogy is stupid," Weiss sneered. "I did not choose to be born a Schnee. You did not choose to be born a Silva. She, on the other hand, made the choice to become White Fang. To aid them. To associate with everything they 'represent'." Blake could almost see the air quotes in that word. "And when they finally showed their true colors, she did not leave. She did not condemn everything about them. In fact, judging by her attitude when we first got acquainted, I'm betting she was jumping for joy when she heard the news. Isn't that right, Blake?"

Blake did not answer.

After all, how could she? Anything but a 'yes' would be a blatant lie.

She wanted to say something. Maybe derail the argument somewhere else, somewhere she had actual ground to stand on. But she couldn't. Words had betrayed her, and a lump of ludicrous proportions materialized square in her throat, preventing her from making anything resembling human speech. It must've looked pathetic.

"Get out of my sight, Belladonna," Weiss sighed, closing her eyes shut. She wasn't even angry at this point. Just deathly tired. "Before I stoop to your level."

Without a word said, Blake turned around and bolted. She wasn't really paying attention to where it was she was running. She didn't care, either. Anywhere away from them was good.

It was for the best.