A/N: I've wanted to tackle writing something RWBY-related for a long time, but I've always been hesitant to touch the cannon. I don't know what it is, I just don't like writing when I know my story is going to be so blatantly contradicted by the source material. However, I've recently been reading a lot of AU material, which seems like a much better fit. I can explore the characters and their relationships in a slightly altered version of Remnant without worrying about stepping on existing material.

This story, as well as some of the subsequent stories I write, will be part of what I'm calling the Remnant-1610 AU. The differences will become clear over the course of future chapters, but the most important difference is that the Grim were destroyed long ago by a group of Silver-eyed warriors, and modern day life on Remnant has evolved in a way that reflects this change.

Much of our main character's backgrounds are the same as their canon counterparts, altered slightly to fit the new world. This story begins in the aftermath of a terrorist attack on the school of Beacon University during the Vytal festival, which has left the four girls divided and left to deal with their pain and loss on their own.

Chapter 1: The Thrill-Seeker

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and alcohol. It was sweltering too, the kind of heat you got when you crammed a few hundred people into a place that wasn't designed with that many in mind. Not that the heat had ever really bothered Yang Xiao Long. It gave her some small modicum of comfort in her otherwise hostile environment. The only light in the room came from a set of spotlights clustered in the center of the ceiling. They illuminated the dominating feature of the room: a large steel cage. Inside a burly man with curling ram's horns was fighting an older man who looked like he was made of steel wire and dried leather instead of muscle and flesh. All around her people jeered and laughed, shoving each other, sometimes good naturedly, sometimes not. Tankards overflowing with strong smelling beer sloshed onto the floor and smoke from dozens of cigarettes bathed the room in a surreal haze.

Yang approached the bar, shoving aside the drunken masses around her. It was a solid piece of oak behind which bottles gleamed in the dim light leftover from the spotlights. She made her way through the crowd, leaning against the bar as she reached it. Her shoulders were tense, and her eyes darted around her constantly, red with sullen fire.

She caught the attention of the bartender. He looked like he may have been a little older than her own eighteen years. He was slender, but his arms were corded with muscle. He had silver hair, expertly tousled and his mouth was turned up in a sly smile. He was handsome, Yang couldn't deny that, but his eyes made her feel uneasy. He had a predator's eyes, black as coal and cold, calculating, seemingly stripping Yang to her core where she stood.

"What can I get you?" he asked. He didn't speak loudly, but his voice still managed to cut through the din around her.

"Not drinking," she answered and reached into a pocket of her coat. It was brown leather, falling all the way to the floor behind her. The sleeve of the right arm hung limp at her side, draped over her shoulder rather than worn. She placed five hundred lien on the counter in front of the bartender. It was everything she had left.

"Next fight. I'm taking the over on ninety seconds. The girl wins. Tap out."

"Gambling it is." The bartender reached beneath the counter and retrieved a scroll. He flipped through a few screens and checked some numbers. Something told Yang that it was for show. "Not good odds there," he said, clicking his tongue for emphasis. "She's a rookie it says. And a cripple. You sure you want to waste your money like that?"

"Just do it," she said with a snarl. The bartender held up a hand in surrender and scooped up her money. He made a note on the scroll before placing both beneath the counter. He didn't use a safe like a lot of others in his trade. Yang wondered briefly if anybody had been foolish enough to try and steal from him.

Behind her, she heard a bell sound. The current match was over. Yang turned and pushed her way back into the crowd. She thought she could feel the bartender's eyes boring into the back of her head as she went.

The limp body of the ram faunus was being dragged out of the cage by men in dark suits and red glasses. The men, and indeed this whole club, belonged to a guy who called himself Junior. A sort of baron of the criminal low-life community, Junior had a hand in just about every illegal or shady business in Vale. He also provided a number of services for the right price, namely procuring questionably legal goods, hiring out his thugs and selling information. The latter service was how Yang had met him in the first place. While their first encounter could hardly have been called cordial, Yang had managed to earn his respect, a feat that had allowed her to call on him for some small favors in the past. This favor, however, was a magnitude above her previous ones. She was going to owe him. She bared her teeth in something mimicking a smile.

He could get in line.

As the victor of the former fight faded back into the crowd, the air in the room changed. The cacophony around her faded slightly as roaring cheers turned to half-whispers. She heard scuffling from the bar behind her as men rushed to place their final bets. After a pause long enough for Yang to grow impatient, a man broke free of the crowd. He threw his arms up, roaring a challenge to the whole room. The crowd cheered with him as he strode into the cage. He was tall, though not so much taller than Yang. His dark hair was cut short and he wore jeans, heavy boots and a white sleeveless shirt. His arms were thick and muscular, and as he turned, Yang could see a tattoo on his right bicep. Three claw marks with a wolf's head superimposed over them, all in red.

White Fang.

She whipped her head around and sure enough, staked out in a dark corner of the club were a group of faunus. They were a variety of ages and genders, but they all had one thing in common: each of their eyes were obscured by a mask carved to resemble the monsters of myth and legend, the Grimm. Yang gritted her teeth as old emotions threatened to overwhelm her. There weren't that many of them there, maybe half a dozen. She could fight half a dozen faunus, especially if she took out one or two before the others knew what was going on. She had already taken a few steps forward without realizing it when she bumped against another one of the club's patrons. Her right shoulder collided with his left and he shoved her roughly away. She stared at the limp sleeve. The small reminder was enough. Maybe she could have taken them before. Now…

Besides, she had another fight to win. She turned her back on the White Fang members in the corner and headed into the cage. Her left hand shot out and caught the door as she went past. It slammed shut behind her, drawing the attention of the crowd and her opponent. He turned to face her. Unlike the masks worn by the people in the crowd, his covered his whole face, concealing his features entirely. Yang clenched her fist and slowly moved to the corner on her left, never taking her eyes off her opponent.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" he growled, his voice low and accented with the lilt that marked him as a native of Menagerie.

"Your opponent," Yang said. She'd wanted to say it evenly, but her voice was shaking with rage. She shrugged her coat off her right shoulder and let it slip down her left arm, pooling around her feet where she stood in her corner.

For a moment, nobody said a word. Anybody within view of the cage abruptly stopped talking mid-sentence. For the space of a heartbeat, the club stood still. Her opponent broke the silence first, roaring with laughter. It was shortly taken up by the crowd around them. Beneath her coat, Yang wore a simple orange tank top and a pair of dark brown fatigues with a purple sash tied around her left knee. What drew the ire of the crowd was her right arm. It ended in a metal cap where her elbow should have been. The steel cap was gilded, and in a few places the gold had began to fleck off, replaced by dents and scarred markings, a detail that went unnoticed by the room at large.

"I must have done something to make Junior happy!" the large man said addressing the crowd, fueling his audience's mirth. "Easy money tonight." He pointed to somebody directly in the crowd and Yang followed his gaze. It wasn't hard to see who her opponent was looking at. He stood about a head taller than anybody around him. He was the only person in the club with any personal space, too and he was flanked on either side by more of those men with dark suits and glasses. The man in question had close cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a crisp white shirt shirt and a custom tailored black vest. The only color he allowed himself was the red of his tie.

"Junior!" her opponent roared, "when this is over, next round's on me!" There was considerably more cheering from the crowd at that. Junior glanced between the man and Yang. To her relief, he showed her no sign of recognition. He just nodded his head.

Yang said nothing during the showboating. When she felt like she'd wasted enough time, she strode forward to the center of the cage and dropped into a low stance, arms up, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Her opponent glanced at her and shook his head.

"You really serious?" he asked, amusement coloring his voice. He began to circled her. He headed right, Yang noticed, towards her bad arm. "Look Blondie, we all make mistakes. Go ahead and save us all some time and go home."

"Start the clock," Yang said to one of the men in suits, her eyes never leaving her opponent. He gave a low chuckle.

"Your funeral," he said, squaring up against her.

The bell rang.

The man charged, roaring as he did. Predictably, he was charging her from the right. She planted her feet, ducking under a wild haymaker and planted her shoulder against his sternum. The steel cap on her arm jammed into his solar plexus and she felt the wind go out of him. She rolled to the left, letting his momentum carry him over her shoulder and she flipped him with what was left of her right arm. He hit the ground hard as Yang righted herself, dropping right back into her fighting stance.

The crowd seemed to take a collective breath before the shouting started. Men hurled themselves against the cage, some in anger, some in adrenaline-fueled hysteria. Junior's men had to fight to keep the crowd back, a few of them resorting to unsheathing their blood red machetes. Her gaze flicked over the heads of the crowd, landing on the bartender. He was looking at her with what Yang thought might have been hunger in his eyes.

Focus she told herself, snapping her attention back to her opponent. He was rolling to his feet, catching his breath as he stood up. He adopted a more traditional fighting stance, bringing his arms up to guard. He still circled to her right, but his movements were more patient, more weary.

"Lucky shot," he growled at her, barely audible over the crowd. "Let's see how good you really are."

He lunged at her again. Not the wild, uncontrolled charge from earlier, but practiced and precise. He jabbed at her right and Yang was forced to dodge left. He aimed a kick at her head, anticipating the move, but she caught it against her left arm. She locked her arm around his leg and pulled him back, trying to get him off balance, but he leapt off the ground, twisting in the air, his other foot lashing out at her.

Yang was forced to let him go and roll backwards, dodging the blow. He caught himself on his hands, landing in a plank before hurling himself back to his feet. The crowd cheered for him and he graced them with a wave before turning his attention back to Yang. His lapse in concentration cost him as the steel cap on Yang's right arm came up to smash into his jaw. He managed to roll with the hit, and when Yang tried to follow up with a left hook, the awkward spacing made it easy for him to intercept the attack. Just like that, he was on the offense again, forcing Yang to give up ground. He heavily favored her right side, meaning she had to keep retreating, leaving her unable to launch an effective counterattack.

To make matters worse, her opponent was smarter than Yang would have liked. He was learning as he went, figuring out where she liked to dodge, how she had planned on compensating for her handicap. He started punishing anything predictable. A feint right led to Yang forced to twist and catch a powerful kick on her shoulder. A lunge went low, slipping under her guard and winding her for a precious second in which she barely managed to duck under a vicious hook.

He wasn't invincible though, and the more confident he grew, the more mistakes he made. One such mistake left his chest open for Yang to deliver a solid heel kick to his ribs, earning her enough breathing room to look at the clock. Forty two seconds. She needed more time.

When the next attack came, she let him chase her towards the corner opposite the door. She kept herself light on her feet, taking advantage of her superior speed to give her aching arms and shoulders a rest. She felt her back foot brush against the bars of the cage and she watched as her opponent reared back for what he clearly thought would be a decisive end to the match. As he lunged at her, however, she spun away in a quick dodge, putting as much space between them as she dared. He smashed into the cage, disoriented for a moment. A moment was all she needed. Yang grabbed the highest bar she could and began to climb, awkwardly, one-handed, until she felt she was out of his reach. She looked down and saw him coming towards her, cautiously, trying to figure out her end game. As he reached up as if to climb after her, she turned and leapt, reaching for the highest bars of the cage, hoping to buy a few seconds as she dangled out of his reach.

Unfortunately, she'd hesitated just a moment too long. His arm lashed out and she felt his hand close around her ankle. He dragged Yang out of the air and slamming her hard into the stone floor. The impact knocked the breath out of her, but she managed to get her left arm up to cover her face. She lashed out with her free leg, hoping she was in the vicinity of something delicate. She didn't connect with anything, but she felt him let her go and she took the opportunity to roll onto her back and sprang to her feet. As she came level, she had a fraction of a second to register his fist in the corner of her eye. Reflexively, she threw up her arm to catch the blow-

-and it sailed right over where her forearm should have been, connecting with the side of her head. The world lurched sideways and Yang tasted blood as she hit the floor again. She blinked a few times, trying to focus. She saw faces all around her, jeering, shouting, yelling for blood. She blinked a few more times and let her eyes flick up to the clock. One minute, six seconds.

Her opponent was saying something. He was circling her again. When she didn't answer, he aimed a kick for her ribs. She rolled to avoid it, taking it against her back instead.

"Looks like you've got some life in you after all," he said. "I'll say it one more time: tap out, now. You're out of your league here Blondie."

Yang clenched her fist and planted the metal cap of her right arm against the ground, shoving herself up. Her head was ringing and her heart was hammering with anger. Anger at him, anger at herself, her own stupid weakness. Anger at those like him, at all the pain they'd caused. She felt like she was at the center of an all consuming firestorm, only dimly aware that she wasn't thinking clearly. That she was forgetting something. But the sound of his mocking voice swept all restraint away on a wave of molten hatred. She spit blood from between her teeth at his feet.

"Well, you can't fault me for being chivalrous," he said striding towards her with cold purpose.

He approached her from the right, predictably. As he did, she moved with him, pivoting to reposition herself. The stood sidelong to each other, mirrored, her right shoulder to his left, almost as if they were about to start dancing. Before he could figure out how to adjust his stance, she attacked.

She pushed off her left leg, letting her right come up to wrap around his waist. With a grunt, she twisted in midair, letting her body weight catch him in his center of gravity. She swept her back leg up, planting it against the back of his knees. He had nowhere to go but down. His head hit the stone floor first. Stunned and disoriented, he tried to push himself up into a sitting position. A task promptly abandoned as Yang's steel arm came crashing down into his mask.

There was a sickening crunch and blood started flowing heavily between newly-formed cracks in the Grimm mask. She felt him go limp and she rolled away from him, wincing as she realized most of his weight had come down on her left leg. She opted to stay on her back as Junior's men unlocked the cage and came to help the unconscious faunus out of the ring. She closed her eyes and let the roaring inferno recede. It never truly left her. She had been burning ever since Beacon University was attacked. But mostly it just left her feeling hollowed out and numb. Like every nerve in her body had been scorched until only glowing coals and embers remained.

When Yang finally decided to open her eyes, Junior was standing above her. She took his hand grudgingly and let him pull her to her feet. The room was spinning a little. Her head ached and she was pretty sure she'd be walking with a limp for a day or two, but at least it was over.

"Not bad Blondie. Wasn't sure you had it in you." Yang dimly realized that the larger man was steering her out of the cage. One of his men handed her the coat she'd left in a corner and she slipped it on.

"You trying to get rid of me or something?" she asked as they made their way through the crowd. "A girl might take offense to that you know." It was a reflex to her, taking jabs at people, trying to get them riled up. But heart, if she still had one left, wasn't in it anymore. Even to her own ears the words just sounded empty.

Fortunately, Junior didn't seem to be paying attention. Yang suddenly noticed that the path through the crowd was being cleared for them by two of Junior's men. "I'm doing you a favor. Another one, I might add."

"Put it on my tab." She saw they were approaching the steps that would take them to the door at street level. She remembered something then, and glanced at the clock. One minute, thirty two seconds. She'd won. A fierce triumph surged through her, but only briefly. The memory of the rest of the bet came back to her. She'd thought that lasting a minute and a half would be the hardest part, but she'd gotten carried away. She'd gotten angry. The girl wins. Tap out.

The spark was gone as quickly as it had come, and before she realized it, she was out in the alleyway again, the heat and sounds of the fight club disappearing behind the reinforced steel door. Junior's men were heading down the alleyway, glancing down the street before shooting Junior a thumbs up. He nodded.

"You need to go. Those White Fang guys aren't going to be happy they were hustled like that. Once they get their buddy back on his feet, they'll be looking for you." Yang studied his face pensively. It was interesting how much loyalty a man like Junior could demonstrate. Sure, he might have been a scumbag, but he looked out for the ones he considered his own. Unlike-

Yang nodded stiffly, wincing as a wave of fresh agony ripped through her chest. She turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Junior held out a stack of lien. Her winnings. "Payouts only supposed to be five hundred, but I made a lot on you tonight. Drop me a line if you're in the mood for round two. Just...give it a week or so for things to cool off first. White Fang never stay anywhere for too long, not when there's plenty of people who'd like to seem them locked up or worse."

Yang nodded, pocketing the money. She didn't bother to count it. If Junior said it was there, it was there. She left without another word, making her way past the men in suits and out into the cool summer night.

At least, it felt cool to Yang after being in the fight club for so long. Summer time in Vale was usually known for its warm nights, so it was possible she was just imagining the pleasantness of the air. She reached back and yanked out the ponytail that held her mane of blonde hair in place with one hand. She had never liked cutting it, and over the summer she had allowed it to practically gain a life of its own. It cascaded down past her waist and settled somewhere near mid-thigh.

Only when she was a block away from the clock did she check her winnings. Junior had been generous, he'd doubled what the usual payout was. But while it was better than just breaking even for the night, it wasn't anywhere close to what Yang had wanted or needed. Not for what she had in mind. The bet she'd placed would have payed out at twenty-to-one-odds. Ten thousand lien. That was the kind of money you could launch an international manhunt with. One thousand would keep her fed and with a roof over her head for another couple of months. It was better than nothing, but it was by no means a victory.

"Hey there!"

Yang started and whirled around, shoving the money deep into one of her coat pockets. A girl had snuck up behind her. She stood with her hands behind her back, smiling warmly at the angry blonde in front of her. Her outfit was odd, clearly designed with a certain audience in mind. She had a glorified strip of cloth across her ample chest and wore a ridiculously small jacket with a high collar over it. Her shorts left about a mile of chocolate colored legs bare that Yang had no trouble following down to where they ended in a pair of dangerously high heels the exact same shade of deep green as her hair. When she glanced back up, she was looking into a pair of red eyes not terribly unlike her own. Despite herself, Yang felt her heart beating a little faster.

"I saw your fight," she said after a brief pause. "You were pretty good. You know, despite." She gestured to her own arm.

Yang's temper flared again, but she shoved it down for the moment. "Thanks," she muttered, turning to leave. After about half a block she realized she could still hear the girl's footsteps behind her. "Can I help you?" she asked without breaking her stride.

The girl laughed. Yang thought under different circumstances, it might have been a pleasant sound. "My partner sent me," she said, moving up to walk beside the taller girl. "He works the bar at the fight club back there. Says you forgot your money."

That stopped Yang. She turned to face this stranger and narrowed her eyes. "If this is some kind of con, you're not very good at it," she said. "I lost that bet."

The girl shrugged. "My partner said he broke yours up, just in case. Made it into three separate bets. Two hundred that you'd win, two hundred you'd last longer than ninety seconds, and one hundred that said the other guy would tap out." She hend out a stack of lien. "Individually, each one was going at five-to-one odds," she explained. Yang was dumbfounded. How dare this "partner" of hers decide what to do with her money? She decided to place the bet, she made the mistake. She felt a phantom pain shoot up her missing right arm as she tried in vain to clench her fist.

She snatched the money from the dark skinned girl's hand and turned to leave, but before she'd gotten very far, she was in front of her again. She moved surprisingly fast in those heels.

"I'm Emerald," the girl added, holding out her hand. "Emerald Sustrai."

Yang considered her for a moment through narrowed eyes. She could feel her already fragile patience with this little game wearing thin. "What do you want Emerald?" she asked, the question coming out as a challenge.

Emerald seemed to sense that she was on thin ice. Her smile faltered for a moment before she nodded and dropped it all together. It annoyed Yang that her serious face was just as pretty as her flattery face.

"Me and my partner think you have a lot of potential."

"The bartender."

"His name is Mercury." When Yang didn't say anything, she plowed forward. "Tonight was a good start, but with your skills and… profile, we think that we can make what you won tonight look like pocket change."

Yang paused for a moment. It was certainly a tempting offer. She just needed to find the catch. "What's in it for you?"

Emerald shrugged. "A share of the profits, naturally. But don't think that means we won't be doing any work. Me and Merc have been working scenes like this for a long time." Emerald's smile was back again, but this time it had an edge to it, something predatory. Yang privately thought it was an improvement. "Any place lowlives gather to gambol and drink, there's a profit to be made."

Yang studied her would-be partner in crime. Something about Emerald's demeanor had shifted. Whereas before she'd given off an air of pleasant naivety, now Yang noticed more of an edge to her. She had shifted her stance ever so slightly, one foot drifting in front of the other. Her arms were still behind her back, but they were more relaxed, ready to do… something. Yang got the feeling this girl, Emerald, was used to playing a soft smile and angel face to get what she wanted. But it was clear, to Yang at least, that this was a mask for a much more dangerous creature hiding within. A spark flared in Yang's chest as she contemplated trying to find out just how dangerous she really was.

"Junior runs the biggest fight club in Vale," Yang said, taking a step towards Emerald. Even in her heels, the blonde girl had an inch or two over her in height. "Plus, I don't know if you noticed, but I kind of lost my element of surprise tonight. Odds aren't going to be nearly as good for me going forward. Whatever you and this Mercury asshole are planning, you might as well leave me out of it." She went to push past Emerald, but the girl would not be so easily dissuaded. She stood her ground, shoving Yang up against the wall of the shop beside her to stop her. Yang reacted quickly, grabbing Emerald by the jacket with her good arm. She swung her left against the wall and pivoted, reversing their positions easily.

Emerald threw up her hands in surrender, but Yang noticed a gleam of amusement in her eyes and that damn smile just got wider. "We're not planning on pulling off this little operation in Vale," she explained, her voice surprisingly calm. Not many people got Yang this agitated and managed to keep a level expression on their faces. "Tomorrow me and Mercury are grabbing the first boat to Vacuo.

"But hey," she continued, apparently undeterred by her very vulnerable position, "if you want to keep playing it safe in Junior's backyard, be my guest. It'd just be a shame to see all that," her eyes drifted meaningfully downward, "talent go to waste."

Flustered, Yang pushed off Emerald and paced away from her, running her hand through her snarl of hair. She tried to take a deep breath, to calm the maelstrom in her mind and think. Vacuo was a nation known for its anarchic tendencies. The government there had a much looser control over the population, which would indeed make setting up an illegal fighting tournament easier. Yang wondered briefly if she was going crazy considering this. Vale was the only place Yang had ever truly called home.

But was it still her home? Her father was the only family she had here anymore, and as much as he might have tried, he couldn't help her. Aside from that, there was Beacon, her school. Beacon had been her home. Her friends had been her family. She felt a twisting pain in her stomach as she thought of her sister, Ruby, and her friends, Weiss and-

She clenched her eyes shut, focusing on their burning heat instead of the life she'd turned away from. There was nothing left for her here anymore.

"Okay. I'll do it."

She felt a hand on her shoulder and Yang whipped her head around to see the those red eyes inches from her own. "I'll let Merc know," she said, her voice low. Emerald's eyes traced the features of Yang's face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. She had the pleased look of a python coiled around its next meal. "Meet us at the docks tomorrow morning before sunrise. Don't leave anything behind."

And just like that, she was gone, slinking away into the night, probably back towards the club. Yang watched her leave until she ducked into the alleyway. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. An alien sensation was writhing in the pit of her stomach. Or maybe Yang was just too far gone to recognize any emotion that wasn't anger or some variation thereof. It had been so long since she let herself feel...anything. It hurt too much. Even now the memory of Emerald's smile was leading her mind down a trail she spent every day ignoring. She knew where it ended.

Against her better judgment, she reached into a pocket of her coat and pulled out a wrinkled photograph. In it, three girls were lounging in the grass on Beacon University's campus. Her little sister, covered in that ridiculous red hood and cape had jumped on her back right as the photo was being taken. Ruby Rose's smile was pure, unapologetic joy. She had always been like that, for as long as Yang could remember. Even at the bleakest times, she had always managed a smile, always found something beautiful in the world to cling too. Yang envied her that. She felt as though everything beautiful in her world slipped through her fingers like water. She stared at her own face in the photograph. Her eyes were lilac and wide with surprise from the bundle of energy that had flung herself at her older sister's back. She remembered reaching behind her and dragging Ruby to the ground, laughing and trying to pin her down. To the left of the roughhousing pair was a girl painted in shades of white and more white.

Weiss Schnee was perhaps the unlikeliest part of their group. She was the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, and as a result fantastically rich and powerful, with the kind of attitude that accompanied both. Still, time and Ruby's persistent joy had helped to thaw the ice queen's heart, and the two of them had become fast friends. In the photo, she was rolling her eyes, but if you looked closely enough you could see a small smile playing across her usually severe mouth.

To the right of the sisters was a small expanse of grass. It ended abruptly, the photo torn and rough at the rightmost edge. Yang had torn it the night after the attack that changed her world. Torn it after learning she'd left, after learning that the most beautiful thing she'd ever held had slipped away from her. It didn't help. It didn't stop her from picturing that warm, amber gaze. It didn't stop her from seeing her sad smiles, or the rarer ones, the ones reserved only for her. It didn't stop her from remembering the way her hair had smelled or the way her hands had felt when-

Yang shoved the photograph back inside her pocket and wiped the hot tears from her eyes before they could fall. She started walking, focusing on the task at hand. Tonight would be the last night she'd have to spend in that shithole hotel. That was a mercy, she wasn't sure if her back could take another night on that god-awful mattress. She'd have to be up early to meet her new companions. She pulled out her scroll to set an alarm for the next morning. As she did, she caught her reflection in the glass of the screen.

Sullen red flame stared back at her.