Rise and face the sun. For years, now, that was the mantra Blake Belladonna repeated to herself as she prepared for another trial of cameras and questions. Today was no exception as she murmured into the rattling torrent of her hotel shower, doing her best to let the hot water sooth the tension in her muscles and calm her nerves. Even after so long, these events still found ways new and old to terrify her into wanting to run away. That wasn't her anymore, though. She had already done enough running for a lifetime.

Knowing she couldn't spend all day under a running faucet, Blake shut off the water and exited the stall with soft steps. Wiping away the fog from the bathroom mirror, she began her usual ritual. Drying her form. Drying her hair. Dressing in the formal black dress that felt so appropriate for mourning. Applying the proper makeup to ensure her appearance was acceptable to electric eyes. Fixing her hair into a partial bun to give herself the appearance of both a proper public figure as well as a being of passion strength, and free will. Choosing again to not hide her faunus ears under a bow, instead using the ribbon to affix a cracked mask to her right hip. After a small breakfast to keep from upsetting her stomach, she was ready for the big show.

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The crowd was like some great beast ready to be spurned into action at any moment. Really, that was what all crowds were. When enough people found themselves united under one cause, it wasn't the subtle intricacies of their own complex psyches that drove the group. It was the simplest and strongest of emotions that allowed them to work together towards a singular cause. With simplicity came power and with power came danger. Like any beast, it had to be handled properly or risk tragedy.

The beast was made up of all sorts of bodies. Thin to bulky, strong to frail. Some bodies had statures that towered above all the rest, while others were so small they had to be lifted up to get any sort of view. Some had tails, some had horns, and some had an extra pair of ears sprouting from their heads. There were a few who had no extra parts at all, but found themselves waiting with just as much anticipation as the others. The one thing all the bodies had in common was eyes. Eyes that all intently followed the one they had come to see. Blake closed her eyes and took a small, calming breath before looking upon the beast from behind her deep black podium. Emblazoned on the front was the head of a strong white wolf; solid, untattered, and pure.

The beast grew deathly silent and Blake began to speak.

"Brothers and sisters of the White Fang. I'm honored to join you today on this momentous occasion. As you all know, six years ago I defected from our cause in reaction to the ever growing violence that had taken hold. Because I fled from the problem instead of confronting it directly, there was nothing to stop the unfortunate events which transpired afterwards. We lost many loyal brothers and sisters in service to a woman who cared for nothing but her own selfish gain. Worse still, we lost our way. We began murdering humans and faunus in equal measure, attempting to overthrow the kingdoms rather than work with them to find the peace and dignity we so desired. Even my dear mentor Adam succumbed to violence, intent on spreading nothing but death and destruction until he was killed during the takeover of Amity Colosseum. Of all my regrets, that I could not bring him back to the light is among my deepest."

There were murmurs of solemn agreement echoing through the beast. In particular were those with masks hanging off their hips and shoulders much like her own.

"However, it was not just through my regret and shame that I came back to you all, but also my hope. I hoped that many of you, especially upon seeing the fruit of your dark labor, would realize that force is not the way to true equality. I hoped that our once glorious symbol of cooperation, marred by war for so long, could be restored to its former status. Most of all, I hoped there was still a chance for our kind to meet with the humans eye to eye and make a better world together."

This time the murmurs of agreement were more enthused and joyous. More than a few humble smiles made their way onto faces scattered in the crowd. Faces that would never again wear masks, never again hide their deeds from the world.

"Now, four years have passed since you all chose me to represent what you believe the White Fang stands for. We are still far from equal and many of us are just as far from atonement, but the strides we've made are not insignificant."

A small cheer escaped the beast before quieting down as soon as it started.

"As of now, the kingdoms have finally begun taking new steps towards equality for faunus kind. In particular, Vale, in spite of being one of our most pronounced victims of the past, has instated many laws and regulations aimed at ensuring faunus equal pay and tax benefits, as well as protection for the rights of human-faunus couples. While Atlas and Mistral may be proving slower to change, it has been through our peaceful methods and attempts at communication that allows us to keep the door open to them. Our brothers who have committed violent crimes in the name of civil rights have either chosen to serve as protectors of the people outside of the kingdoms' jurisdiction or willfully serve out a sentence in prison so they might spread the word of understanding among those who need it most.

"Please remember this. Every ally we find, every faunus we can protect, every mind and heart we win over through empathy and understanding, no matter how small or frail, is another step closer to a better world. I consider myself blessed to find the company of those with the kindness and determination to persevere through this struggle. I am wholly convinced that, so long as we walk the peaceful path, we will arrive at a better place for all peoples."

The beast sounded off in agreement, passionate and unrestrained as strong smiles peppered its surface. Blake couldn't stop herself from letting out a bit of a grin as well. All those years ago, she was so reluctant to take up the mantle Adam had been grooming her for the entire time. When she had enrolled in Beacon, she assumed her future would be beyond the walls of the kingdoms, slaying monsters with a shining blade. After Amity, though, it became clear to her that her words could be more powerful than her sword had ever been. Instead of killing monsters, she was taming the beast so it might find a way to live in harmony alongside all the other great beasts of Remnant. In spite of the stress that came with the job, she was truly happy to be doing it.

She stepped down from the podium for a time and others came and went in her wake. Some with grand speeches of the great things they could have in the years to come, others with tragic stories of humiliation or loss in the face of discrimination. Word by word the beast grew stronger, more stable. The combination of experiences and perspectives wove each individual closer to one another. Eventually, the last speaker stepped down and it was time for Blake to return to the helm. It was time for questions from the press who had attended the rally. The questions were rather simple. Where did Blake intend to travel next? What was her opinion on this or that aspect of the issue? Everything was fairly cut and dry, until she got to a reporter with white tipped black hair to her shoulders and a pair of sharp rectangular glasses.

"Yes, you over there."

"Bette Doppler of Vale Herald. We've talked a lot about the future today, but I was hoping to learn about your past. It's true you were once a student of Beacon Academy?"

"Yes, I was."

"Is it also true you were assigned to the same team as Weiss Schnee, head of special operations for the Schnee Dust Corporation?"

Fantastic. She wanted to hit her from that angle. Like she was the first person to ever try and use that to get under Blake's skin. "Yes," she replied calmly. "Miss Schnee and myself were classmates and teammates up until the end of the last Vytal Festival."

There was only the slightest hint of a smirk on Miss Doppler's face. "Please tell me, how do your White Fang reformists feel about their leader having such close personal ties with the SDC; a company infamous for its policies involving faunas labor?"

While she kept her face set on the outside, Blake was sighing internally. There was always one person who wanted to upset the event. Sometimes it was a genuine desire to see Blake lose favor with her followers. Other times it was just in the hopes of having a juicier story to submit to their editor. Which one Miss Doppler was didn't matter. The same diplomatic response was required for either. "While I in no way condone the business practices of Miss Schnee's father, Weiss herself is the furthest from anti-faunus as you could be in the kingdom of Atlas. Her special operations department sets itself apart from the rest of the SDC with equal pay for human and faunus employees as well as equal opportunity for promotion within her ranks. All of which Weiss Schnee, whose family has been locked in brutal conflict with the White Fang for years and suffered greatly for it, fought tooth and nail to make happen. Rather than questioning whether our friendship invalidates my leadership of the reformists, I urge everyone here to look to Miss Schnee as an example of what can happen when humans and faunus are able to put aside their differences and reach a deeper understanding of one another."

There were more murmurs of approval from the beast. Blake couldn't keep herself from gently smiling at the sight of a blonde faunus and a black haired human in the crowd holding each other. Miss Doppler didn't seem to be all that bothered by her failure to get a rise, however. Light reflected off her glasses as she shifted slightly. "Thank you, Miss Belladonna. I do have just one more question involving another aspect of your time in Beacon."

A sarcastic cheer sounded off in Blake's head. What would she bring up, now? Her kleptomaniac ex-boyfriend with a prehensile tail? Her former partner's violent and self-destructive habits? Or maybe even-

"It's about Ruby Rose."

There it was. The heaviest albatross to settle around Blake's neck since Adam. Again she kept a straight face, though this time it was far more difficult to maintain. She could barely stop from cringing at the sound of her old leader's name even so many years later. Ruby had been a major part of the resurrection of Blake's optimism. She'd be lying if she said Ruby's act of treason hadn't hurt her. Still, she couldn't afford to show that sort of weakness here. She had a responsibility for morale. "Please continue," she replied neutrally.

"There's always been something that never made sense to me about accounts of the Vytal Festival's final evening. The White Fang launch an assault on Amity Colosseum, compromise the programming of Atlas' security drones, and very nearly manage to use the stadium as a weapon to destroy Vale's perimeter defenses and let in a swarm of Grimm. A terrifying plan, almost airtight. And yet it only took one fifteen year old girl to hijack this scheme and use it for her own means. That seems rather suspect to me."

"Ruby Rose was a prodigy in combat and strategy. You could ask anyone who spent time with her in Beacon," Blake's eyes narrowed slightly. This wasn't a conversation she enjoyed having, but it seemed like someone always had their own ideas about an event they hadn't been there for.

"So I've heard, but she wasn't the only member of Team RWBY to be exceptional. Very soon after Ruby Rose foiled the plot to destroy Beacon's walls, two of her teammates found themselves in positions of great influence among two factions that have been enemies for decades. I find the concept of three very close, very young girls garnering such power so soon after one of them betrays the world as a whole to be more than a little suspect. Wouldn't you agree? Especially when taking into account how Miss Rose chose to evacuate the terrorists as well as the civilians."

Oh joy, the classic conspiracy theories had emerged. The ones that claimed Ruby was some kind of megalomaniacal overlord looking to conquer the world. For all Blake knew nowadays, Ruby might be, but she still wasn't part of any such scheming. Maybe if Ozpin was still around, he could have explained why Team RWBY had become so influential even after disbanding. It seemed obvious to all Blake's former classmates that the team formations in the Emerald Forest were far from randomized. Of course, that was just one of the thousand questions everyone in Vale regretted not being able to ask the former headmaster. Miss Doppler's question hung in the air, regardless. She would have to answer.

"If there are any brothers or sisters who were present during the takeover of Amity Coliseum, would you please step forward," Blake requested kindly. In response, four figures emerged from the beast; each with a Grimm mask hanging somewhere on their person. A fifth figure stood up behind her, his scratched and charred boarbatusk mask sitting on his shoulder. In truth, there were probably a few more that had remained in the crowd. Even if they had returned to peaceful actions, there were many who were either too ashamed or too scared to admit taking part in what had almost been the darkest day in Vale's history. "Could one of you please express your opinion on Ruby Rose's actions on that day?"

One brother hesitated before speaking, "When the plan first failed and my brothers and I were being escorted onto the ships, I was furious. I couldn't believe we had been defeated on what was supposed to be the evening we took everything back from the humans. I was still overwrought with hatred at that point. Then, I saw the storm that emerged from the arena. I knew I would have stood there and died had the victor not evacuated her all of us, her very enemies. I saw the storm descend upon the horde of soulless monsters my brothers and I had lured to bring slaughter to the city. That moment was my moment of clarity. So many would have died that night if not for Ruby Rose. Worse still, I would have been one of the monsters responsible for it. Our defeat saved my soul from the deepest pit Hell had to offer. For that, she has my gratitude."

Blake nodded proudly to the man who spoke. "Do any of the rest of you have anything to add?"

Another was about to speak up when her ears picked up the telltale sound of a weapon being yanked from its holster. Buckshot riddled the podium and dissipated the shadow clone Blake had replaced herself with in an instant. Sitting with her back to the edge of the podium, she took note of the speakers who had been behind her. Most of them were unscathed and making their way to retreat, a few had minor flesh wounds from the scatter, and the one who had been standing was now bleeding profusely on the floor. She would have to draw the attacker's fire if he was to receive medical attention in time.

Shot after shot bashed against Blake's cover, sending woodchips into the air with each impact. Though she could not see it, the white wolf head that once stood untarnished was likely shredded beyond recognition. She was pinned down and she needed to do some to draw her attacker's fire. Squeezing the sheathed weapon at her side, she formulated her strategy quickly. Again, she reflexively called on the power tied directly to her soul. Two Blakes sprung from either side of the podium, sprinting low in the hopes of flanking the attacker. The shooter had a gun each waiting for them, though, and the identical pair of faunas both dissipated into wisps of shadow. However, the shooter could not return his sight to the podium in time as a third Blake vaulted forward, a purple bladed tanto in her right hand and her sheath morphed into a tonfa with a trigger at the base of the handle. While her blade was halted by one gun, her tonfa guarded her from another.

Their weapons locked together as they stood within inches of one another, Blake was finally able to get a good look at the man who was very interested in seeing her dead. That he had a standard Beowulf mask now set firmly on his face was the first thing she noticed. He was White Fang, but he definitely wasn't one of her White Fang. His weapons were short and unassuming. A pair of lever action shotguns adorned in olive and gunmetal, very militaristic in form. On the end of each barrel was the head of a tomahawk, the blade on the bottom while it looked as though the spike was part of the sights. Obviously, close range was his preferred method of combat. As far as physical appearance went, he was unremarkable. An average build, average height, even the pair of dog's ears blended in with the mess of dark brown hair they were nestled in. He didn't stand out in a crowd and that was probably the point of him being there.

"There's no more need for weak words, traitor," the shooter spat as he tried to knee Blake in the ribs, forcing her to dash backwards.

"Are you sure I'm the traitor, here?" Blake shot back with both words as well as bullets from her tonfa. "Of the two of us, I'm not the one who just put one of our brothers in critical condition."

"You've done far worse than that without even touching a weapon!" the shooter rebuked as his weapons whirled in front of him to intercept each round. The sound and feel as his blades collided with the bullets was odd, though. He had to keep alert. Deception was this witch's specialty after all. He sprung forward when the shooting stopped, aiming a vertical slice with his left gun while steadying his right for a point blank hip fire. His opponent was ready with a counter, catching the left with her blade, disrupting the right with a well-placed shot to its barrel, and following through with a savage left jab to his cheek. The shooter stood firm, spitting out the blood that had rushed into his mouth. "You dare emulate his weapon."

For the first time that whole exhausting day, Blake allowed herself to snarl in response. "And why shouldn't I?!" she demanded before forcing the shooter into a retreat with a swing from her tonfa. "You might stay loyal to his misguided ideals, but he was MY mentor. He taught me everything I knew about making a stand for our kind. He taught me how to defend myself. Then he fell to madness!"

The attacker smirked at his success in getting a rise out of the young woman he had been told was entirely unflappable. He leveled his firearms at Blake, confident she wouldn't be able to dodge the entire spread. "If you were a true student, you would have stayed at his side until the end!" he called out before opening fire. To his surprise, instead of attempting to flee with her semblance, she stood firm. The short blade spun so quickly it took on the appearance of a purple cyclone. The buckshot wasn't deflected by the blade, rather, it got it all up in a swirling vacuum. When the spinning stopped, the buckshot fell to the ground softly.

"A true student learns to think for themselves," Blake's golden eyes flashed as she levelled her gun at the shooter once more, though he showed no sign of fear. A volley of shots were aimed at his chest and, as expected, all were torn to pieces by his weapons. The last shot, however, was aimed at the ground. As Blake planned, the round ricocheted upwards and impacted harshly with his chin, sending him reeling backwards.

The shooter was surprised to be alive, as he expected his brains to have been splattered all over the room from that attack. The feel of what hit as well as the sound it made when it bounced to the floor told him why he had survived. Again, he spat out blood in disgust, "Rubber bullets. Is this the best defense you can give your people?!" he moved to raise his guns again, but suddenly they felt far heavier than they had any right to be. That was odd.

"Yes," Blake stated calmly. "This way, I can protect my people on both sides of the line." Sword returned to sheath, knowing there would be no further need for combat.

Furious at the disrespect he had just been shown, the shooter again tried to lift his weapons. Again he was unable to even budge. Glancing downward he understood why that was the case. There were what looking like black spider webs coating the blades of his guns and sticking to the floor. Then he noticed where in particular they stuck to the floor. Everywhere one of those shredded bullets lay, a thick strand had attached itself. Suddenly, the weight of his weapons was even greater than before. Before he could help it, both shotguns were wrenched from his grasp and embedded to the barrel in the floor.

"You're so used to the direct approach, you've forgotten there are other alternatives," Blake continued as she stepped forward. "Now it's time you stopped. You don't stand any chance in this state."

A growl more akin to a dog than a man erupted from the shooter's mouth. He was mere feet from his objective and she'd just let her guard down. There was no way he would just come quietly. He was a man of spirit, of belief. He took a knee, then sprung forward in a flash of movement.

Blake would have been more than prepared for this likely assault. She could have fired her sword out of her sheath and knocked him unconscious with the hilt. She could have activated the invisible strand the last rubber bullet had attached to his jaw and forced him face first to the ground. Hell, she probably could have sidestepped his blind charge and given him a chop to the back of the head. She wasn't able to employ any of these responses, however, because the instant the shooter kicked off he was engulfed in a golden inferno she knew all too well. When the blast subsided, her attacker was a burned and twitching wreck. At least he was still alive though. Turning her head, she saw exactly what she was expecting. A young woman with short blonde hair and a long brown coat with a dopey smile on her face like she hadn't just immolated another human being a few seconds ago.

"Heard you were having a big event!" she said joyously as she casually stretched out her arms. "Thought I'd drop in and see what it was all about."

The only response she got from her old friend was a death glare only those who were truly part cat could muster.

"…What?"