"Think about it for a while and you'll agree with me, because you're smart and I'm right."

- Charlie Munger

Crunch.

Yang cried out in frustration as the rabbit she'd been painstakingly tracking for the last half hour bolted, hopping away too fast for her to catch. Even if her shells were low-caliber enough to hit the thing without turning it into red paste — which they weren't — they were too precious to waste.

Giving up, Yang trudged through the snow back to their campsite, shivering as the cold morning breeze cut straight through her jacket.

Her pace quickened as she neared camp and spotted a thin plume of smoke. She all but collapsed into a squat beside the tiny fire, shoving her hands so close to the flame they were practically touching it.

Blake prodded her hands back with a stick. "Hands off. You'll suffocate it. You have no idea how long it took to get this thing going."

Yang reluctantly withdrew her hands, barely able to feel the flickers of warmth from a foot away.

"Any luck hunting?" Blake asked.

Yang shook her head bitterly. "Found a rabbit. Scared it off."

Blake hummed. "Ren usually finds something."

"I told you, you should've come with me," Yang murmured. Half her meals this week had come courtesy of the other girl at the fire — if anyone could've caught the rabbit, it would've been Blake.

"Then who would start the fire with wet wood?" her partner grumbled.

Too irritated to argue, Yang just sat in silence, savoring what little heat the slowly growing flames offered. They sat like that for several minutes, comfortable in the quiet, until it inevitably came to an end.

"I'm telling you, this is too far!" Weiss' voice rang out, loud enough to announce her presence before she even appeared. "Combat training is one thing, but going without food or proper shelter in this weather? This is ridiculous!"

The unlikely trio of Weiss, Ruby, and Jaune emerged from the treeline. Weiss stormed ahead to join them at the tiny fire, her white cargo pants splattered with dried mud. Ruby and Jaune followed at a more sedate pace, looking just as miserable as Yang felt.

"And we're supposed to fight in these conditions?" Ruby murmured, rubbing her stomach with a dreary sigh. "I'm so hungry. Need… cookies…"

"I hate to admit it, but it's not unreasonable," Blake muttered, poking at the fire to adjust it. "You have to ration on missions. Supplies get damaged all the time."

"But still," Weiss huffed, "the camping supplies, the ammo, and the food? In the north of Mistral?"

Blake just shrugged.

"It's not snowing anymore," Jaune offered unhelpfully. Yang elbowed him in the shin, causing him to curse and hop away on one foot.

"Hopefully the others will find something big tonight," Ruby murmured.

"The deer stew last night was so good," Yang sighed, eyes misting over at the memory — the only time all week she'd actually been full.

"I actually prefer rabbit," Weiss chimed in. "The cut of the deer was not—"

"Shh!" Blake's sharp hiss cut across their conversation, her cat ears twitching faintly. Everyone froze instinctively. They had long since learned to trust the faunus' senses above their own.

"Are the others back?" Ruby whispered.

Blake didn't answer right away, her eyes locked on the distance, ears straining.

"It's not them," she hissed.

Yang was on her feet in an instant. "Automatons?"

"I'm not sure, but whatever it is — there's definitely more than three."

"How did they find us?" Ruby muttered, Crescent Rose deploying with a series of clicks. The youngest among them looked around the clearing nervously.

"The fire," Jaune hissed, pointing up. Sure enough, the damp wood sent a thin stream of thick, black smoke into the sky, a signal visible for miles.

"The damn things know how to follow campfire smoke now?!" Blake snarled, hastily kicking snow over the fire to extinguish it.

"How close are they?" Jaune asked, scanning the treeline.

Yang's eyes flicked around their camp. If they had to run, packing up would take a minute — the makeshift frame of sticks and grass, staked under the rocky overhang, held up a tarp of repurposed rucksack canvas, their only real shelter.

Blake pursed her lips. "I'm not sure."

Jaune shot her a look. "Minutes or seconds?"

Blake hesitated. "Seconds."

"Then let's go!" Ruby urged. "The others went north. If we head after them and regroup—"

"We need to stay and fight," Jaune countered.

"With half of us missing?" Yang challenged, already shifting her weight for a sprint.

"If they're smart enough to follow smoke, they might be smart enough to destroy our camp. If they trash the canvas, we'll freeze."

"I agree with Jaune," Blake said quickly. "I'll follow your decision Ruby, but you have to decide. Now."

Ruby hesitated, meeting Yang's gaze. Yang could only shrug. The newer automatons were dangerous — Yang thought it was insane to fight without their full team, but Ruby already knew that.

Blake fidgeted, and Yang froze. She could hear them now — the faint marching growing steadily louder.

"Okay," Ruby decided, "we'll follow Jaune's plan!"

Yang swallowed her sigh and turned to face the treeline.

"Blake," Jaune called, deploying his shield, "stay hidden, and flank them from the trees when Yang and I engage. Ruby, find the others. If you can't in a few minutes, come back and help. Yang — you and me are bait. Stay behind my shield until they're close enough to engage without ammo. Weiss, stay back and out of sight. We'll need you watching our back with your glyphs when it kicks off."

Ruby nodded, vanishing in a flash of rose petals. That was all Yang needed — the hunger in her stomach fading into background noise as she braced for combat.

She stacked up behind Jaune, hand on his shoulder. Blake sprinted for the trees, and Weiss dropped into a nearby ditch, ignoring the slushy mud in a way Yang knew the Weiss of a few weeks ago would have been incapable.

Yang felt them before she saw them — her head ducking behind Jaune's shield on instinct the moment a bullet whizzed past her ear.

The treeline erupted in gunfire. A constant barrage hammered Jaune's shield, sending vibrations up his arm where her hand rested.

Damn, what is that thing made of?

Yang grit her teeth, each ricocheting bullet that bounced off of her stinging her skin and skimming her aura.

"Ready?" Jaune shouted.

Yang squeezed his shoulder once.

"Go!"

Yang had never been so relieved to charge a squad of killing machines head-on.

Yang burst from behind Jaune, her gauntleted fist slamming into the nearest automaton's head, taking it clean off. She followed up with a brutal kick to its chest, caving in the metal and sending the crumpled machine toppling lifelessly to the ground — well, more lifeless than usual.

Bullets pinged off her aura, and Yang spun toward the shooters — but sparks erupted from their necks and backs as a pair of precise bullets pierced the weak points in their plating. Yang's gaze snapped upward, finding Blake perched in a tree, already lining up her next shots.

Jaune joined the charge, bashing an automaton onto its back and shielding himself as he stomped on its arm, pinning the rifle clutched in its metal hand. He flipped his sword and drove it down into the machine's chest, sparks flaring as its systems fried.

Yang staggered as a sudden burst of heavy rounds slammed into her chest, aura flickering under the strain. She dropped to one knee just as a white glyph appeared above her, intercepting the next volley with a series of dull, rhythmic thuds.

The reprieve was just enough for Yang to scramble back behind Jaune's shield, catching her breath as the storm of bullets resumed.

They'd taken out the first wave, but more automatons remained in the woods, their barrels flashing as they fired from the trees.

"Think that'll work again?" Yang shouted over the gunfire.

Jaune shook his head grimly. "They've learned ,they're not charging us again."

Yang cursed under her breath. How smart were these things? What kind of software could learn? And how were they supposed to fight without burning through the little ammo they had?

The gunfire shifted direction, and Yang's eyes snapped to the trees. Bullets began shredding the branches around Blake's position, forcing her to scramble to a lower branch. A heavy round clipped her side, the sudden, harsh impact staggering her and causing her footing to slip on the already thin, snow-coated branch. She lost her balance and fell a dozen feet to the snow-covered forest floor, rolling out of the fall and diving behind a tree, which was immediately riddled with gunfire.

"We won't last like this!" Yang shouted. "This isn't just a squad — there's too many! We have to charge them and take the hit to our aura or we're dead!"

Jaune shook his head sharply. "Hold position! Stick to the—"

A gunshot roared, loud enough to cut through the others.

Yang's heart leapt. She knew the sound of that sniper anywhere.

A red blur streaked past them, and Yang risked a peek over Jaune's shield. Ruby tore through the trees, Crescent Rose a crimson whirlwind, two automatons collapsing in pieces in her wake.

A gleaming shield and spear followed her, slamming into another pair of machines. Pyrrha flowed into the fray, retrieving her spear from one automaton's neck and her shield from the other's chest in a single graceful motion. Even if the electric currents running through the automatons nullified her semblance, Pyrrha Nikos was still a force to be reckoned with.

Nora's gleeful battle cry rang out as she leaped into the fray behind Pyrrha, while Ren slipped through the trees on Yang's other side, his silent strikes clean and efficient. The automatons crumbled under the renewed assault.

Jaune lowered his shield and sprinted forward, Yang right beside him with a feral grin.

Training sucked sometimes, but she'd take this over a lecture hall any day.

The leaves brushed against Blake's back, the rough bark digging through her thin shirt. She sat perched among the branches, perfectly still, melting into the shadows cast by the tall trees. Below, her teammates moved silently through the underbrush, their footsteps light and deliberate.

The automatons they faced by now were more dangerous and versatile than anything Blake had faced in the White Fang, but she was their best chance at a lookout regardless. While Ren might boast similar skill in stealth under normal circumstances, her night vision and enhanced hearing gave them a chance to hide before it was far too late.

Blake froze, ears twitching at the faint, mechanical whirring in the distance. Without hesitation, she dropped silently to the forest floor.

The others saw her and understood immediately. They scattered, melting into the surroundings, hiding in brush and behind trees. Blake pressed herself between the roots of a massive tree, nearly invisible unless someone stood directly above her.

It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

She kept her breathing even, body utterly still, as the whirring drew closer. Her teammates were nearby, out of sight — but even knowing that, she couldn't shake the cold loneliness curling in her chest.

The pitch-black night offered no comfort. They'd learned the hard way that a new variant of automatons had night vision, thermal imaging, and hyper-sensitive microphones, and a patrol like this would have at least one, if not more. They could only rely on absolute concealment to survive.

Blake did not consider this perfect concealment.

She held her breath as the sound of whirring motors grew louder, until they were just a few feet away.

Please don't walk this way, please don't walk this way, please don't walk this way.

Whiirrrr-clunk! Whiiiirrr-clunk!

She bit down a curse, every muscle in her body seizing as a metal stomped down inches from her face.

Whiiirrr-clunk!

The machine passed, its head swiveling in eerie silence. One wrong glance, and they were all dead.

The whirring faded, and Blake shakily released a breath that she could no longer hold. She waited until her ears strained and she could no longer hear them, and then waited thirty seconds after that before rising from her spot. The others followed her lead, appearing from their hiding places like shadows.

Blake exchanged a look with Ren.

Too close.

She scaled the nearest tree, climbing higher than before to get a clear view. Beyond the treetops, the forest gave way to rolling fields, and in the distance, a fortified hilltop stood illuminated by powerful floodlights. Spotlights swept back and forth, combing over fields and treetops alike.

Blake's breath caught. It was one of the largest fortifications she'd ever seen — and here it was, set aside for their training.

Shaking off her awe, she descended and led the team onward.

This was going to be a nightmare to infiltrate.

Jaune awkwardly opened the door with his forearm, taking a couple tries to twist the dew-coated doorknob and shouldering the heavy door open with a grunt.

"You only win when you cheat!"

"There are no rules in love and war!"

Jaune smiled at the familiar sound of his friends arguing. Weiss and Ruby's bickering echoed through the house, followed by Yang's boisterous laughter. Kicking the door closed in a way he knew Weiss would hate, he shed his boots — adding them to the growing pile that had taken over the entryway.

He carried the overstuffed grocery bags into the kitchen, passing Blake, who sat curled on the couch with a book. She gave him a brief nod in greeting before returning to her page.

His arms subbed in relief as he set the bags down on the kitchen table — carefully avoiding the disassembled automaton Ruby had been picking apart all afternoon.

"Jauney!" Nora ambushed him immediately, diving for the bags without so much as a hello.

"Mini muffins are on the left," he said, rolling his eyes fondly.

Nora squealed in triumph, clutching the muffins and a pre-made smoothie before squeezing him in a bear hug that nearly crushed his ribs.

"Thanks, Glorious Leader!"

She was gone in a flash.

Jaune shook his head, used to Nora's antics, and started unpacking groceries. The fridge Weiss had insisted on buying — after discovering the house didn't have one — was already half-filled with the weird assortment of things they considered "essentials."

"Sup, Jaune," Yang greeted, sauntering into the kitchen in nothing but a tank-top and shorts. Jaune's eyes searched for to look anythingto look at other than his teammate's midriff as she reached past him for a drink. He knew all of his female friends were attractive, but Yang in particular had never been shy to show it off, and living with her made it impossible to forget. It hadn't bothered him when they were in public and anyone could see her, but now that he livedwith her it felt weird to look, even if she didn't care.

"You gaming later?" she asked casually, cracking open her drink. "I could use a teammate — Ruby's ego needs a check."

"Yeah, probably," Jaune agreed quickly, seizing the distraction. "Just gotta put this stuff away and check on Pyrrha."

"Awesome. See you soon, Vomit Boy."

"Hey," he called after her. "Speaking of, have you seen Pyrrha?"

"Upstairs," Yang called over her shoulder. "Argus meeting. Should be done by now."

Jaune nodded gratefully, the blonde girl disappearing around the corner with a flick of hair. He focused on putting the groceries away quickly — but not too quickly, or Weiss would yell at him for putting groceries in the wrong place again — and then made his way upstairs.

The second floor felt cramped compared to the first, the hallway barely more than a narrow path between doors. He knocked gently on Pyrrha's door, which creaked open at his touch.

Pyrrha sat at her desk, her terminal dark. Her face was pale, and for the first time he could recall dark circles shadowed her eyes.

"Everything alright, Pyr?"

Pyrrha ended the call with a soft click that echoed in the abrupt silence that filled her room. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment as her fingers pressed gently against her temples, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. A sigh slipped out, quieter than she intended. Why did everything have to be so... difficult?

A light knock at her door startled her, and Jaune's head peeked in a second later, his familiar blue eyes instantly finding hers. His brow creased in quiet concern, the sort of look that always made her heart ache and flutter at the same time.

"Everything alright, Pyr?"

She forced a smile. "Just some... administrative matters," she said, gesturing vaguely at the darkened terminal.

Her smile turned slightly more real when she remembered how wide-eyed and amazed Jaune had been when he first found out she was Argus' Baroness. He'd congratulated her because it meant she'd be able to help more people — that innocence was something she'd quickly grown fond of.

He'd come a long way since then — they all had.

Pyrrha rose, smoothing the crumpled sheets on her bed with absent fingers before sitting down at the edge. "Come in. Sit with me?"

Jaune stepped inside without hesitation, closing the door softly behind him. The mattress dipped as he settled beside her, close enough for their legs and shoulders to brush. His presence was solid, grounding — and far more comforting than she would ever admit out loud.

For a moment, she let herself savor it.

"What's wrong?" Jaune asked softly.

Pyrrha's fingers curled in her lap. She debated how much to say — how much she even wanted to put into words.

But there was no point holding back. Not with him.

She launched into an explanation about the situation with Sanctum, the students who'd abused their auras to hurt civilians, the school's refusal to turn them over to the authorities. How they insisted on handling it internally, claiming it was a matter of protecting the independence of combat schools.

"I guess that... kind of makes sense," Jaune offered hesitantly.

Pyrrha's mouth tightened. "Does it?" Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she took a breath to calm herself. "Jaune, these students used their powers to hurt innocent people. People died. And they're going to walk away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist because they have aura and go to a combat school."

She lowered her voice again, but the frustration still bled through. "Huntsmen and huntresses are supposed to be held to a higher standard, not given special treatment."

Jaune winced, shifting slightly. "I'm not saying you're wrong, I just... are you sure the school will go easy on them? You don't know for sure yet, right?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "I do know. I went there, remember? I know the headmaster, I know the staff. I know exactly how much they value their reputation over justice."

Jaune's hand found hers, resting on the bed between them, warm and familiar. Pyrrha closed her eyes, pretending — just for a second — that they were holding hands for real.

"So... what can you do?" he asked gently.

Pyrrha sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I ordered the school to turn the students over to the city."

Jaune's eyes widened slightly. "And?"

"And they're fighting it," Pyrrha said bitterly. "They're flooding the courts with objections, citing every technicality and precedent they can find about nobility interfering with schools. It's a legal mess, and I'm stuck reviewing every argument to decide which ones I can dismiss."

Jaune's hand slid to her back, rubbing slow circles between her shoulders. Pyrrha tensed at first, but the warmth of his touch gradually melted her resistance, and she found herself leaning into it — just a little.

"You've got too much on your plate," Jaune said softly. "This, training... there's gotta be some way I can help."

She shook her head, biting her lip. "I appreciate it, but... this is my responsibility. If I can't handle it, I might as well ask Percy for help . And if I do that every time something goes wrong, then what's the point of me being Baroness at all?"

Jaune frowned, but he didn't argue. "Okay. But you know we're all here for you, right? Me, the team — all of us."

Pyrrha turned to meet his gaze, losing herself for a heartbeat in those earnest, worried blue eyes.

"I know," she whispered. "And I promise, if I really need help... I'll ask."

"Democracy is beautiful in theory; in practice, it is a fallacy."
— Benito Mussolini

Percy watched from above the treetops, watching his trainees sprint through the forest below. Even from this distance, he could see how efficiently they moved—fluid, calculated, precise. Their training had paid off.

They didn't waste time engaging every automaton patrol they passed. Instead, they opted for efficiency—taking down the closest threats before slipping between cover, bypassing unnecessary fights entirely.

All except Ruby.

The girl was a red blur, tearing ahead of her teammates with speed that seemed impossible to match.

Percy hummed. Their mission was to capture a high-value target before it could escape and navigate through enemy patrols without being overwhelmed.

Without dying, of course.

He scratched at his cheek, watching their strategy unfold. So they were using Ruby's speed to get to the target first? Not a bad plan, if they executed it properly. She didn't need to capture the target outright—just delay them long enough for the others to catch up.

His eyes flicked to a green indicator in the distance—the target's location. Ruby wouldn't need to do much to slow their escape. Just a credible threat was enough.

He was tempted to adjust the automatons' tactics to counter their approach, but he refrained. Let them reap the rewards of their own creativity. He leaned forward slightly, genuinely curious to see how things would play out.

Incoming Call…

Percy sighed forcefully and leaned back in his office chair, pressing the accept button.

"Sorry I was late," Winter greeted him. Percy moved the training footage to another display. "A… negotiation with Mantle's chairman ran over."

Percy waved a hand dismissively. "No problem. I've got plenty to keep me occupied. How are you, Winter?"

She gave a tired but genuine smile. "I'm well, all things considered. Despite everything, I'd say things are going about as smoothly as they can be."

Percy returned the smile. "Glad to hear it. Not to rush straight to business, but we should probably address the elephant in the room."

Winter's expression sobered in an instant. "Agreed. Ask away."

"Do you intend to annex Mantle?"

"Yes."

There was a brief silence. Percy steepled his fingers, mulling over his next words carefully.

"It won't be soon," Winter clarified. "I need to prove myself to them first."

Percy raised an eyebrow, glancing dubiously to the side of his desk where a large stack of reports lay. "Given your track record since taking control of Atlas, I didn't expect you to put much stock in the democratic process. That was a surprise to me, I'll admit, but now I'm just confused. You blackmail and leverage and imprison political opponents to gain control of the council — in Atlas and Mantle — but want Mantle's consent now?"

Winter sat straighter, as if preparing for a rehearsed speech. "Allow me to clarify, I am not a believer in democracy," she stated plainly, "and never particularly have been. What I do believe in is the will of the people."

Percy arched a brow. "Do I even need to ask?"

"I do not believe in short-term polling, fluctuating public opinions, or governing by the short-sighted whim of the majority," she explained. "What I do believe in is the general consent of the governed - that the people are the ones who have their right do decide their own future, in a broad sense."

Percy frowned slightly. "That sounds… vague. How do you define consent without relying on polling or votes?"

Surprising him, Winter shrugged. "I will not pretend it's an exact science, but I won't wait until a journalist tells me I have a fifty-one percent approval rating before I act. I will prove myself by bettering their lives — by rebuilding our nation, restoring what we've lost, providing security, stability, and prosperity. When I have done that, I will have the right to unite them under Atlas once more."

"If you're going to do it later, what difference would it make now?" he prodded. He could think of a couple reasons himself, but he wanted to hear her answer.

"Seizing the city now, when the people of Mantle and Atlas are worse off than they've ever been, when they want for safety, food, and work, when their way of life is in ruins around them, would make me no more than a dictator — a petty tyrant who takes simply because they want more," she explained, her tone dripping with contempt. "If I first rebuild the city, give my people back what they have lost, provide them with hope of a brighter future — then, and only then, have I proven myself worthy of being their leader. To the people of Mantle, Atlas, and to myself, I would have proven that my stewardship will bring them prosperity. Then I can unite them not as a dictator, but as a leader."

Percy's fingers drummed lightly on the expensive wood of his desk, considering her words.

He knew he wasn't necessarily opposed to Atlas and Mantle reuniting, but annexing Mantle would ruffle a lot of feathers — especially among those under the Tammany Hall's umbrella. He had his own obligations to consider, and allowing Atlas to simply absorb Mantle unchecked was not in the Hall's best interest.

But there was a way to make this work.

"I don't object to annexation," Percy said at last. "But I have an ask."

"Oh?" Winter quirked an amused eyebrow. "I don't recall asking your permission," she teased.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Fine, guess I'll tell Shiro to send all the steel we're diverting you to Menagerie instead."

Winter rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated but entertained. "Fine. What's your request?"

"The Tammany Hall," Percy said, eyes locking onto hers. "I want it to expand into Atlas."

Winter's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly would that entail?"

Percy leaned forward slightly. "I want your cooperation. I want you to funnel your political power through the Tammany Hall."

Winter's expression turned unreadable. "That's a bold request, Percy."

"It's not ," he disagreed. "I'm not asking for control over your military, your council, or your personal allies. What I'm asking is simple — when the Tammany Hall backs someone, you back them. If we bring you a candidate for endorsement, a contract, a promotion, an interview — you give it to them. And in return, they support you."

Winter hummed, tapping her fingers lightly against her armrest. "Is that what the Tammany Hall truly is, then? A network — a brokerage — for political power?"

"It wouldn't be inaccurate," Percy granted. "Only, one that everyone in Mantle is a part of. And soon, Atlas too."

Winter leaned forward, clearly interested. "It would be a self-reinforcing network. As more power players take part, there becomes a greater incentive for others to bend the knee as well. As members are given preferential treatment by those at the top, eventually everyone in any position of authority would necessarily be a member. A monopoly on political power. How… creative.

"Exactly."

Winter exhaled through her nose, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. "It's a brilliant strategy."

"But in essence," she continued, "you're asking me to integrate Atlas into a foreign political machine."

Percy met her gaze evenly. "Tammany Hall has existed for centuries, and it's not foreign. It was founded long before Atlas was called Atlas, and it will be here long after both of us are gone. It's not my personal empire — it's an institution. One that has never broken its obligations in all its history."

Winter tilted her head. "And if I refuse?"

Percy sighed. "Then I can't allow you to annex Mantle."

Winter's expression flickered, just for a second.

"I have obligations," Percy continued. "Mantle's current leadership is under the Hall's protection. If I let you roll in and absorb them without ensuring their interests are preserved, then I've failed in my role. I can't let that happen, for the same reason I would never allow your position to be compromised."

Winter leaned back in her chair, watching him carefully.

"I'll think about it," she said at last.

Percy nodded. "That's all I ask."

The tension in the air faded slightly, and Winter's gaze shifted. "How are things with Vale?"

Percy's expression darkened.

"That bad?"

"Only kind of." He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "Let's just say I'm beginning to share your disdain for opinion polls."

Winter laughed, a light, melodious sound. "Even after you saved the city?"

Percy gave her a flat look. "To be fair, I also caused the crisis in the first place."

Winter frowned, but stayed silent.

Percy exhaled. "Either way, public opinion is split. Some see it your way, some hold me responsible. But the ones that blame me are in the majority and pissed enough to make the situation difficult." He gestured vaguely. "Vale is announcing the formation of their own military this week. I'll have to handle that during the Vytal Festival."

Winter winced. "I suppose it was rather foolish to not have a military until this point, but still… Yes, I suppose soothing international relations is what the Vytal festival is for. I have to admit I'm looking forward to it. A few weeks in Vale will give me a chance to spend some time with Weiss. And yourself, of course."

"That reminds me." Percy snapped his fingers, glancing to his left where a holo-projection displayed his students beginning to encircle their target. "I could use your help with something before the festival."

"Hm?" Winter raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "What could that be?"

Percy grinned. "Trust me, you'll love it."

"A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds. And see the world in endless sleep, the hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. A single choice shall end his days; Olympus, to preserve, or raze," Percy recited, eyes locked on something far away.

Blake swallowed, quickly fitting the pieces together. She quickly averted her eyes, almost feeling like she was intruding on a personal moment just by listening.

"You were fated to die," Weiss came to the same conclusion as Blake, her eyes wide. The room sat in muted shock for several long moments.

"Yeah, fates are a bitch like that," he snorted, taking a swig from the glass of liquor in his hand. Yang, Pyrrha, and Blake each had one of their own, the rest having turned down the offer. "That's one thing I won't miss about back there. The fates are cruel. Sadistic, even. The prophecy actually meant another hero — Luke, the demigod that helped Kronos rise. He took his own life in the end to stop Kronos. But it was written to sound like the subject of the prophecy would die, and that's the way everyone interpreted it. Thalia, Annabeth, Chiron — even the gods thought I would die."

"So they expected you to willingly die for them?" Pyrrha scowled. "For nothing?"

Percy shrugged, the gesture loose and casual, though his jaw tightened. "Well, not like I would have a prophecy made it sound like I was going to die either way. But no, they didn't expect me to march to war knowing I was doomed — that's why they didn't tell me until a few days before the final battle." He took another sip. "Maybe if they'd told me sooner — when I'd just arrived at camp — I would've done something different, but that's why they didn't tell me. By the time I found out, I had too much to lose."

"Damn." Yang winced. "That's rough."

Percy stared into his drink. "Yeah, well, I don't think I'd change the past if I could. Knowing my luck it'd be way worse." He exhaled through his nose. "But I'll admit, it's a lot of the reason I felt like I needed to tell you the truth. About everything."

Nora blinked, "Everything?"

"This," he gestured around the room. "Ozpin, Salem, the relics, the maidens — my past — all of it. But especially Salem's side of things. It's like the prophecy. Knowing doesn't change anything — you'll still be fighting Salem. But you have a right to know what you're risking your lives for."

The room was silent for a long moment, none of them sure what to say.

"Thank you," Blake said quietly. "I don't think any of us have said that yet. It would've made your life a lot easier to sit back and let Ozpin keep telling us half-truths." Her ears dipped slightly. "But you didn't."

Percy ran a hand through his hair, laughing nervously. "Yeah, well, hope I don't regret it."

"I forged my transcripts to get into Beacon."

Every head in the room turned toward Jaune, the confession hitting the room like a flashbang.

Blake's eyes widened slightly, but Percy didn't seem surprised. Nor did any of his team, for that matter.

Jaune's fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie, but to his credit, he forced himself to meet their eyes. "I didn't go to a combat school. I wasn't trained as a Huntsman. I didn't even have my Aura unlocked when I got here."

Percy's eyes widened slightly, somewhere between confused and impressed. That, he hadn't known, Blake guessed. She herself was surprised he had made it through initiation without Aura.

"Pyrrha saved me in initiation," he added, after a short pause. "And she's been helping me from there. The rest of my team too. And Percy." he coughed, avoiding the older man's eyes.

"That explains…" Blake trailed off, memories of Jaune's genuine inability to fight when he'd first arrived flashing through her mind.

"The complete lack of skill?" Weiss suggested.

Everyone glared at her.

"What?" she asked, raising her hands. "I'm just saying what everyone was thinking."

"Could've been nicer," Ruby grumbled.

Jaune gave a weak laugh, "No, she's right. I'm definitely behind. I'm working as hard as I can to catch up, though."

"Why now?" Yang asked, voice filled with genuine curiosity. "I get why you didn't tell us from the get-go, but why now? Why not tell us a month ago, or next month?"

Jaune's fingers curled tighter in his hoodie. "I didn't sooner because… well, it's not like I feel like I'm actively hiding something. I try not to think about it — I justified it by telling myself I just hadn't mentioned it to you guys yet. As for why now… what I'm doing just reminds me too much of what we're talking about. Lying by omission and justifying it. I thought about how I'd feel if Percy hadn't told us, and… I'm glad he did. So I knew I needed to tell you guys."

Blake bit her lip anxiously. Fuck. Her heart pounded, and her fingers curled into fists.

She was going to have to do it, wasn't she?

Ruby's smile was bright.. "Thank you Jaune. I'm glad you told us."

Blake clenched her eyes shut. Should she? Shouldn't she? It had been a long time coming, but… there had never seemed like a good time. It could go disastrously wrong, but what else was new?

"Oh, fuck it," she muttered. Time to take the plunge.

"I was in the White Fang."

Percy's head snapped toward her, eyes widening.

"We all knew that, silly," Yang elbowed her lightly, rolling her eyes. "We helped you with your disguise, remember?"

Blake shook her head, balling her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking. She stared straight ahead and refused to meet her friend's eyes. She felt Percy's gaze digging into the side of her head, but it was too late to back out.

"Not…" she took a moment to steady her voice. "I mean before I went to Beacon, I was in the White Fang. As in, actually in the White Fang. For years." She buried her shaking hands further between her legs.

Sitting next to her, Weiss' eyes widened, recoiling instinctively.

Blake flinched

"So the girl you knew in the library…" Yang trailed off.

"And how you knew where to look for their records," Weiss added, eyes narrowing.

Blake could only nod, staring into her lap.

"Why did you leave?" Pyrrha's voice was soft. Not judging. Just curious.

Blake froze.

"We won," she said quickly, years of deception stopping her from obviously hesitating. "But Adam wanted to keep fighting. I fought against the systems that opposed the faunus, but when the system is no longer working against you… violence isn't the answer."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. That's why she'd started to drift from Adam, sure, but it's not why she'd left — why she'd made such a drastic decision.

She wanted to tell them. She wanted to trust them. For once in her life, she wanted to stop keeping secrets from the people she loved.

But, well… Percy was right there.

Except… she didn't even know that he would be upset. He hadn't been behind it, otherwise he wouldn't have tried to stop Adam's plan. He wouldn't have had them attack Beacon while Pyrrha was there either.

"I also knew about the staged violence," she blurted. "Adam told me his plan to keep the White Fang alive by causing violent outbreaks at rallies. When I found out, I knew I had to leave."

"And that's why you were so dead-set on outing them for it," Yang's eyes widened. "It's how you knew where to look and what they were doing."

"Adam told you?" Weiss caught. "As in, the leader of the White Fang told you personally?"

"I was a lieutenant," Blake murmured. "I'd been there since… well, my entire life. My parents founded it when it was peaceful. When Sienna took over and turned it violent, they left the White Fang. I didn't. But yes." Blake swallowed. "Adam and I were… close."

Percy snorted. "Yeah, 'close' is one way to put it."

He wore an easy smile, but when their eyes met the message was clear.

We'll be talking about this later.

Blake blushed, and Yang let out a high-pitched squeal directly into her ear. "You slept with the leader of the White Fang?!"

Blake whimpered, burying her face in her hands. Kill me.

"Wait." Weiss' eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?" she asked Percy.

Blake noticed with some relief that the Schnee had stopped leaning away from her, though she noticed a couple extra inches of distance between them. Her heart sank.

"Because she was attached to his side every time I met him," he said casually. If it was possible for Blake to tense more, she would have. She knew it was common knowledge he was funding the White Fang at this point, but how much Weiss had believed that fact until now…

To her surprise — and a bit of confusion — the white haired girl only nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.

"Did you ever walk in on them," Yang, the pervert that she was, leaned forward.

Percy snickered, and Blake quickly paled.

"Well, one time- mmph!"

Without thinking, Blake reached an arm behind her and grabbed hold of the nearest pillow, hurtling it at the demigod. It smacked him solidly in the face, and Yang laughed boisterously.

"Revenge!" the blonde cheered, grabbing her own pillow and throwing it at him. It hit him just as the first fell.

Nora, not wanting to miss out, grabbed Jaune's pillow and beamed across the room. Blake ducked, and it nailed Yang in the side of the head.

"Pillow fight!" Ruby cried, leaping onto the couch.

Blake leaned back into the couch, sharing an exasperated look with Weiss. The interaction was easy, familiar despite Blake's confession just moments before. Sneaking a subtle glance, Blake noticed that the distance between them had returned to what it was before.

Blake had just finished telling them that she'd been in a terrorist organization for most of her life, and yet her friends were already acting as though things were back to normal. She couldn't believe she was so lucky, to find such incredible people.

They had helped her so much, forgiven her far more than she had any right to be forgiven, and acted like it was no big deal.

She turned away from the room, lifting a hand to wipe at a tear before it could form. These people, her friends, had done so much for her. She knew in that moment that, for better or worse, she would be with them until the end.

For the first time in her life, Blake felt like she had found her home.

"Yaaang~!"

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for your reviews.

Next Chapter April 1 ;)