Headquaters

The Games We Play

Headquarters

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As I trekked deeper in the White Fang's hideout, I drew some stares—which was to be expected, I supposed, given the gore liberally painted over my skin. Before long, wisps of smoke began to rise from the Grimm remains, the last of their bodies slowly evaporating and leaving behind little more than clinging soot. I could imagine the image I presented, walking through the halls looking like that.

But I rolled with it, stalking my way through the complex as if I owned the place. I didn't make any sign of noticing my current state, much less being bothered by it, and though there were whispers…well, no one stopped me as I progressed further into the site. I assumed they recognized me.

I kept an eye out the entire way down. My senses, altered by the nature of my power, were one of my greatest advantages. I could read people's levels and names at a glance, pick up what should have been impossible to know details with a longer look, and spot signs of things long past from the invisible marks they left behind—and I put all of it to use. Home solely to the Faunus, there were no lights in the abandoned facility, but that didn't mean there was any less to be seen.

I memorized the names of those I passed so I would remember if I saw them elsewhere. Anyone with an unusually high rating got more focused attention as I skimmed their profiles for what made them stand out and whether or not I should be wary. The building offered up a great deal of information all its own; it was an abandoned facility from the time of the war that had fallen first to enemy forces and then to the creatures of Grimm. At some point, the White Fang had cleaned it out and put it to a new purpose—and not recently, either. This was something older, something established; I could tell at a glance that though they left most of them off, the base's systems were not just in working order, but far beyond what it would have had at the time of its creation. It had been refurbished and kept up to date since its reclamation.

And that…was a bit worrying. Though not right next to it, the base was still in relatively close proximity to the city and something like this, remodeling a fallen military base, would have taken a lot of time, effort, and, of course, money. The White Fang being capable of such a thing without drawing attention to themselves was concerning; all the more so for the vastly more likely explanation. That someone had noticed—had seen what was being done and hid it. Or perhaps even assisted it, funding the operation. That was easier to imagine but if so, it confirmed that someone in Mistral who had a lot of power had taken a role in ensuring things went smoothly.

There was a pretty short list of people it could be. I couldn't say I'd honestly doubted Adam when he claimed that the Families were involved—whatever else he may be, the man wasn't stupid—but this all but confirmed it. I didn't know enough about the internal politics of the White Fang or of Mistral, but…

Without a doubt, I needed to talk to my grandmother.

I didn't let any of those thoughts show on my face, staying calm and distant as I strode forward until I reached what seemed to be a heavily modified assembly hall or storage room; it was hard to tell, after the fact, but whatever it had been it now served as…

A very large but otherwise surprisingly mundane common room. Maybe it was a bit weird of me to never have thought about it, given that I'd assisted them before and all, but I'd never truly given much thought to what the White Fang did in their free time. I mean, I'd known logically that even people like Blake and Adam, highly trained operatives that were no doubt kept busy jumping from one mission to the next, couldn't work all of the time. Adam may have been content in his apparent lack of a life, but Blake at least had time to read occasionally, if he comments and actions were anything to go by. It stood to reason that other members of the White Fang would also have time to themselves—probably more time, if they weren't Hunter level fighters kept endlessly busy.

Nonetheless, the sight that welcomed me underneath the White Fang's hideout still felt bizarre. There were many pieces of mismatched furniture that looked like they'd been bought cheap or used, seemingly arranged with no rhyme or reason. Mats and rugs mimicked the trend, all but hiding the concrete floor in patterns for the garishly ugly to worn but beautiful. A fair number of lawn chairs were arranged unevenly around nearly two dozen tables of various shapes and sizes, covered in everything from the expected to the strangely mundane. Next to a table covered in guns and ammunition was one whose surface was nearly hidden by magazines with titles like 'The Fairest' and 'Ms. Mistral.' Set against the back wall was a set of roughly level tables that held up rows of water coolers and coffee pots, sandwiched on either end by two large refrigerators.

I walked into the room and just stared for a moment, feeling just a bit silly. To my left was a table with three muscular men and a young girl playing a board game of some kind, with cards and pieces and a map of Remnant—I didn't recognize it. Board games in my house had a tendency to devolve quickly into fighting games to the point that my only experience with chess was as a full contact sport. To my right was a semicircle of random loveseats and couches, arrayed around a large television beside a shelf of movies. Not too far away a girl with a handheld game was talking to a young woman doing her nails, both of whom seemed to be getting ignored by a third girl wearing headphones.

I could admit it; whatever I'd expected to find the White Fang doing in their downtime, it wasn't this.

"Surprised?" Adam whispered.

Of course, just because I could admit it to myself didn't mean I felt any need to do so out loud.

"Actually, this explains a lot about the White Fang." I mused back at him, looking around contemplatively. Adam snorted behind me.

"Oh, Mr. Taurus!" I heard a voice say and turned to find a scraggly looking guy with watery eyes staring at us. I could tell because he'd apparently pushed his mask up to put on some reading glasses and open a book. He blinked at us once and squinted at me before his eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say…something. Whatever it was, what he actually said was 'Um. Um.'

I felt a little mean thinking it, but I couldn't help but wonder if Adam's 'become the monsters they'd made us out to be' explanation wasn't entirely accurate. I mean it sounded good, but looking at the young man in front of me—who looked young, for all that he was probably a few years older than me, and had a bad case of ache to prove it—if maybe the intimidation factor didn't have something to do with it. Because looking around, at the men and women with their uniforms off and their masks raised…they just looked like people.

Then again, I suppose that was what they were.

The young man, Beige, blinked owlishly at me for a few more seconds, feathered hair twitching as his gaze turned towards Adam.

"Um," He said. "Did something happen, sir? I mean, sirs."

"There was a problem outside," Adam said gruffly, but since he nodded in greeting towards Beige instead of dismissing him, I figured there was a story of some kind there.

"Um," He said again. Around us, I could see other people begin to look our way, the knowledge of our arrival rippling outwards until everyone knew. "Could you define problem?"

"Grimm," Adam replied bluntly, scanning the crowd.

"Oh," Beige said. "Right. Problem. Are they, uh…?"

He trailed off as Adam left, making a bee line for someone—Blake, I saw after a moment. Beige glanced at me, apparently considering asking, before thinking better of it.

"Do not be concerned," I told him. "It's dealt with."

He looked me over, probably noting the stains, and nodded quickly. I returned the gesture more calmly and then followed my friend at a sedate pace. Other members of the White Fang saw me and tracked me as I crossed the floor, some almost rising to greet me, some almost shrinking away, but none approaching me. In the end, that was probably for the best, here and now—that I be a distant, mysterious figure, but one who's image represented confidence and power.

Because that's what it always seemed to boil down to, wasn't it? Image, identity, resemblance, and expression. I was the tiger, king of the jungle—untouched for all that I was soaked in blood. But it was their enemy's blood and that was what mattered. That they knew there was nothing to fear out there. That they understood they were safe, behind a mighty, invincible warrior.

And if that was a lie, it was a lie that had protected the people of Remnant for generations. It wasn't enough to push back the assaults of the Grimm, for that the seeds of dread and fear would only draw more—you had to crush them, cut them down like stalks of wheat and make it obvious you could do it a thousand times. And if that was a lie? Then you lied, because telling the truth was far worse.

"Adam," I heard Blake say as she looked up from her book. "Where did you—"

She cut herself off, lifting her gaze to look at me. She stared hard for a moment before shifting to look towards Adam for a second, mouth twisting with a desire to say something about it—but she hesitated. She wouldn't risk making a scene and saying the wrong thing here in front of a crowd of people and Adam knew it. For a moment, I thought she wouldn't say anything at all, that she'd let things pass begrudgingly, but her lips twitched once and she met Adam's hidden eyes.

"You shouldn't have brought him into this," She whispered and I muffled the sound further with Levant to keep things private, just in case. "Not again."

Adam shrugged one shoulder in reply, not flinching.

"I did anyway," He said. "If something's happening, he deserves to know. Especially if…"

"Know what?" I asked him through Levant, not bothering to move my lips. I saw his ear twitch once at the sound, but his face turned slightly so that he was looking towards a door set off to the side of the room.

"I'm not sure," Adam said, keeping his voice low enough that only Levant should be able to pick it up. Blake closed her eyes and looked away. "But when you fought, there was a reaction—more than there should have been. Whatever's happening has something to do with you and your family, Jaune. And it's something big, something…I don't know what you'll find or what will happen afterwards. But I figured you deserved the chance to find out. You can still back out."

"Meh," I replied distractedly as Levant's power expanded through the space around us, mixing with the air as it came under her influence and crept swiftly towards the door. "Leave now? It's just getting interesting."

Adam snorted again, a bull-like sound and I made my 'tone' more serious.

"Thanks," I said. "For the heads up."

"Can you hear them?" He asked after a moment. "The room's soundproof."

"Noticed," I muttered back as Levant detected barely anything from the door—and with what could have been a shrug, promptly reached out to grasp the air on the other side. The voices came to me immediately, filling my ears as Levant mirrored them on this side of the wall. "Not a problem."

"—His name is Jaune Arc."

There was a short silence I used to fill the other side of the room with Levant's power, making the sound clearer. Stripping off my still dirty cloak, I took a seat in the chair beside Blake's, mind focused elsewhere as my body went through the motions. I heard something that might have been a click and then the voice continued.

"Yes," Another voice said impatiently. "But is he…?"

"The son of Jacques and Isabelle Arc. Yes."

Someone exhaled slowly.

"You're sure she's Isabelle Roma?"

"As sure as I possibly can be. It was hidden well and she never made a fuss about it in public, but…yes. There's evidence to support it and it's unlikely to be a coincidence."

"Do we know who hid it?" A third voice inquired.

"Does it matter?" Asked a forth.

"Possibly. It could tell us something about her allies and how powerful. Whoever they are, they've kept this hidden for quite some time."

"There was chaos during and after Mistral's Civil War, especially when it was followed so swiftly by Menagerie. Countless people moved between the Kingdoms to escape for conflict; moving a single girl would have taken no great effort—and there were bigger concerns then making sure every single refugee was who the claimed to be. Remember…what was his name? The serial killer that moved to Vacuo?"

"William Blut," A voice answered. "But the situations differ. He was quiet for a long, long time and when he resumed his…activities, well, he was caught in short order, wasn't he? Going unnoticed among thousands upon thousands of other refugees is one thing, especially when the situation is chaotic. Staying that way for a long period of time is quite another. If she were living in some village off the edge of Vale, you might have a point, but she was a Hunter. A famous Hunter, active for decades across the Kingdoms, without so much as changing her first name—an old name, at that. Certainly, many have begun to stray from the color trend nowadays, but go back…twenty? Thirty? Thirty years and a name like Isabelle would have stood out, however famous Lady Elizabeth had been. Yet no one made the connection? Or do you believe he doesn't know?"

There was another pause, but I felt motion through Levant. Someone shaking their head? Making some kind of gesture at least. There were less people in the room then there were voices, so I assumed that some of them were communicating electronically. I could feel a few things I thought might have been hologram sets, but that didn't allow me to judge their body language. I made do with what I could feel, focusing on those in the room itself.

"No, you're right," A voice said. "At the very least, we can assume that Ozpin knows. The girl, Isabelle, would she have…would she have already attended Haven? If not, she'd have been on a team in Vale for at least four years; that's a lot of time to keep secrets and most children grow to trust one another, given time. That's probably at least four more. And her husband surely knows and the children…who else? Family friends? Past lovers? More? And yet we only find out about this now. I think we're all aware of how…fun it is to keep secrets after telling large amounts of people, so it occurs to me that going unnoticed for decades might have been difficult."

"And that's assuming that no one else found out. Knowledge tends to spread, however hard people fight to resist—yet this did not? No…fan boy or girl invested absurd amounts of time into examining every aspect of her history? Unlikely. There are forces at work; an extraordinarily good cover, at the very least, and probably someone silencing things for a time, one way or the other. In the aftermath of the Revolution, things could have been buried more definitely, but before that…"

"There was definitely something keeping her hidden. Hopefully, it was simply the Lupa, but given their reputation, we must at least consider the possibility that Ozpin was involved, in which case…"

"…There's not enough information to say yet. It was most likely Jeanne Roma's work, but we'll keep in mind the possibility. More importantly, what does this mean for us? How much does this change things for us?"

"It's…concerning," One of them admitted. "Perhaps a great deal; potentially not at all. Though her mother has ruled as long as anyone remembers, Isabelle Arc is the technical heir of the Roma family."

"And absent from it for decades and purportedly despises her mother," Another reminded dismissively. "What loyalty would any of them have for her?"

"And yet, here she is, staying in her mother's house—and her son certainly seemed close enough to his grandmother."

"But she left quickly, leaving her son behind. The fight was halted by her as well, implying it occurred without her knowledge or consent. I don't think her presence in the She-wolf's house should be taken as an implication of closeness—at least, not between the two of them."

"Yes," A firm voice interrupted. "Isabelle Roma is, by all appearances, loyal to Ozpin and opposed to her mother. While it could be fabricated, evidence supports their being conflict between them even before she disappeared. She may be the 'heir,' but it's nothing but a word if it's not supported by reality. Given that, I think we can write her off as the primary threat in this regard. The issue is the grandchildren."

"The many, many grandchildren." Another added, voice wry.

"What was it? Seven granddaughters in addition to this grandson?"

"Yes. Hunters, all of them, and close to their grandmother. We didn't know their relationship until now, but looking back…they all spent significant time in the area, working under or near her. Now, her grandson appears to fight in the tournament, beginning with a display of power that should be far beyond someone who hasn't even attended a Hunter's Academy—who'd failed to gain entry into a combat school, even."

There were several disbelieving sounds in response to that. I took to chance to return my attention to my body and glance around absently. I was leaning forward, on elbow on a knee, while Blake and Adam positioned themselves to talk quietly beside me, making it look as though I were listening to them absently. No one else deigned to approach us, though several had wandered in our direction, taking seats positioned such that they were nearby without actually being close before returning to their own activities.

"She must have been planning this for a long time. Keeping them a secret, preparing them…"

"It's hardly a surprise in hindsight. We knew from the beginning that she wouldn't just sit idly by while her powerbase deteriorated. That she had grandchildren in play…it changes things, but it's not complete unexpected. What we need to ask ourselves is 'Why here?' and 'why now?' If she's been preparing her grandchildren for this, she wouldn't reveal that fact unless she was ready to see things through. The question is, what is she planning?"

"A power play?"

"At a time like this? It seems…"

"No, you're right; there's no reason for her to do such a thing now, considering—"

"A statement, then? In comparison, Cynosarges's grandson…even his goddaughter was matched by her youngest. With seven already trained as Huntresses, this generation would seem to favor the wolves. Since the Civil War, Alexandria has been in charge, but with this…"

"That's long term, though."

"Is it? Times are changing and she knows it better than anyone. As things are now, with such a display of power…"

"Worse, if Jeanne decides on a path, Cynosarges will support her—the wolf and the lion hunt together."

There were mutters of agreement at that, drawing back to the point.

"What matters then, as before, is what this means for us." A voice brought them back on topic. "How bad will it be? How bad could it be? Will it be bad at all?"

"…If we assume that she will pick a new heir from amongst her grandchildren, perhaps not. We don't have enough information on them to tell yet, but Jeanne wouldn't choose a fool to lead the Family, nor one who she believed would ruin what she worked for. If this is a show of power, it's possible it was not meant for us—or, if it was, meant as nothing more than a reminder of who we're dealing with. But we hadn't forgotten, had we?"

There was a murmur of agreement.

"What do you propose, then?"

"Patience. Caution. Whether it's a warning, a threat, or simply a display, there does not seem to be any reason for her to betray us—therefore, I would recommend we wait and see. There's no benefit in doing something rash, especially when it's needless, so why do anything without further information. She has her affairs and we have ours; if she chooses to elect a successor, we'll trust her judgment and support her decision, at least for now. If this is something more than that and she wishes to move…well, we can't very well decide what we'd do in that case without anything to go on, can we? But she wouldn't ruin something that benefits her."

"Yes; we can trust in that, if nothing else. We'll be polite, then?"

"Like civilized human beings."

Those words got a quiet chuckle from the hidden room.

"We'll meet with her soon, regardless. Should circumstances allow, we'll make an inquiry. In the meantime, there's still much for us to do."

"Yes. What's next on the agenda? Finances or advertising?"

There was a quiet shifting a cloth and a quiet beep.

"—Ah. A moment, my friends. She's messaged me."

"Oh?" One of the voices seemed worried. "Is it…"

"No, nothing so dire. Rather—"

There was silence for a second.

"She's here," The voice said. "And so is Jian Bing."

I returned to myself in an instant but didn't react otherwise, didn't look up. Instead, without even moving, my senses expanded outwards. I drew up all my Elementals, let light and color swim freely across my vision beneath the full, disorienting might on my Clairvoyance, and drew the entirety of my combat power around me. Invisible currents of air, flows of heat, water vapor, and electromagnetism stood out bright and clear in my mind's eyes, even as time slowed to a crawl around me.

There were things that could hide themselves well—that could become invisible and mask their scent and more. Done right and too the right person, all of a human's senses could be fooled.

But I had a few more than that.

I didn't even twitch as that happened—I stayed as I was, leaning slightly forward, resting an arm on a leg as I looked at Adam as he told his story about some mission or other. It was a short thing that he didn't go to detail on, so he swiftly reached the end of the tale, but each sentence seemed to drag out endlessly. Even so, I waited until he was done.

Then, I spoke, moving nothing but my mouth.

"There's no need for you to stand there, friend. Come sit with us." I spoke to the woman behind me, who hadn't been there until after the words were finished. There was a shift in the air behind me, a sudden access to air that hadn't been there before, and what seemed like everyone in the room suddenly turned to look behind me.

Everyone but me. I wanted to, but appearances were more important, so even as…whatever the hell was going on behind me happened, I stayed as I was, not moving until…

"Hello," A woman's voice said. "Jian Bing."

When she addressed me, I turned to look her way. I was calm and casual as I did so, going so far as to put an arm over the back of the chair as I glanced the woman over.

What I saw surprised me, though I didn't show it. Most of it, I noticed only in the periphery of my vision—long black hair and clothes in red and black; miniskirt and thigh-high boots and a strange looking weapon at her hip—because my eyes were drawn immediately to her face.

Or rather, to the mask covering her face.

"Hello," I replied. "Raven Branwen."

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