The wilds in between the kingdoms of Remnant were not places people generally wanted to stay longer than absolutely necessary.

Though many small towns and villages existed outside the walls of the kingdoms, everyone knew there were risks involved. Greatest among these risks was the threat of the Creatures of Grimm, the soulless beasts that sought to destroy mankind and all its creations. The creatures of darkness came in many varieties, from the countless Beowulves that roamed the forests to the rare and powerful Beringal. No matter their form, though, they shared one thing in common; they were drawn in by negativity. Fear, anger, sadness, hatred… all these feelings could lure Grimm in if the feelings were powerful enough.

Bandits, too, were troublesome for anyone trying to eke out a living outside the protections of the kingdoms. This could compound matters if a village was attacked by bandits; fear and anger would bring the Grimm in by the droves if such feelings were driven high enough. But if you were well-armed and well-motivated, these threats were not as immediate to the mind. This was something that the White Fang knew well.

Humanity is not alone on the world of Remnant; there exists another race known as the Faunus. Physically identical to humans in most respects, Faunus have something that makes them stand out; a single characteristic drawn from an animal. Cat ears, monkey tails, claws, scales, all these and more could be traits held by different Faunus. This being the only difference between the two species, Faunus are even capable of interbreeding with humans. But as mankind is fearful of those it deems as 'different', for the longest time, the Faunus were mistreated. It has only been in the last eighty years that there have been strides made to bridge this age-old divide.

For some Faunus however, the strides weren't large enough. Those Faunus make up the bulk of the White Fang; formerly an organization meant to uphold Faunus rights, it is now a radical sect that regularly attacks those who wrong the Faunus… and occasionally commit other acts of terrorism. Such acts require planning, however; poor planning leads to poor outcomes. At one camp in the wilds of Anima, just south of the kingdom of Mistral, planning was currently underway to determine their latest operations. It is here where this story will truly begin…

"Alright, everyone, listen up!" barked the voice of Adam Taurus, silencing the chatter in the White Fang's camp. Standing tall, with red hair and his trademark black coat and rose emblem on the back, Adam was one of the most well-known and popular members in the entirety of the White Fang, as well as one of its most powerful fighters. He had consistently railed against mankind's oppression of the Faunus, both with words and with steel. His fervent desire to dispense his own brand of 'justice' to humanity had earned him a high rank in the White Fang; high enough that he could command an entire region's worth of their forces.

The bull faunus continued once the chatter had died down. "We've received a report that there's an old research and development facility nearby, one that hasn't seen use since the Great War. High Leader Khan has asked that we investigate and try to retrieve any useful technology we can."

This caused some murmuring among the White Fang faithful. "But if it hasn't been used since the War, what are the odds of us finding anything useful? That was nearly eighty years ago!" one member pointed out.

"Under normal circumstances, you'd be right," Adam admitted. "However, our intelligence indicates that this facility was far ahead of its time, with technology more advanced than anything seen elsewhere on Remnant, even in Atlas," he claimed, referring to the most advanced of the Remnant Kingdoms. "It's possible, even with the gap in time since then, that it may hold something of value to us in our struggle."

"Since it's beyond the kingdom's walls, it won't be patrolled by the Mistral Police," he continued. "As a result, High Leader Khan has designated this a low-risk mission of medium importance fit for a single operative. Do we have any volunteers?"

There was murmuring among the crowd, before a voice spoke up. "I'll go." Everyone turned to look at the speaker; a young girl, no older than 15, with long black hair and yellow eyes. On top of her head, two cat ears stood straight up, her gaze and stance resolute. On her back was a weapon, currently sheathed, though the observant would notice that the sheath itself could be a weapon with its sharp edge.

"Very well, Blake," Adam said, nodding. "The facility is located to the south of here, in the badlands. I'm transferring coordinates to your scroll," he said, tapping a few points on his tablet display. Scrolls were commonplace on Remnant; nearly everyone had one, even those doing less than legal activities.

Blake Belladonna nodded as she received the information on her own tablet scroll. "I won't let you down, Adam."

"I know you won't, Blake," he replied. "I am well aware of your abilities, though this should hardly tax them. Still, though it hardly seems necessary… good luck."

Two days later, Blake found herself in the badlands in the southern reaches of Anima. It had been a fairly easy trip, despite an encounter with a pack of Beowulves. The wolf-like Grimm were considered to be among the weakest of their kind… although that in no way meant they weren't dangerous to those without a means to defend themselves. Blake, however, was a rising star in the White Fang; one of the few who'd made her own custom weapon, she could fight, and fight well. The Beowulves, despite there being a large number of them, had proven little more than a distraction for her along her way to her destination, their shattered, disintegrating bodies littering the path behind her.

She was now near the coordinates that Adam had given her, yet she couldn't see anything that looked like the facility he spoke of. As she stalked through a massive field of yellow grass, she wondered if perhaps their intelligence had been wrong; that there was no facility. A more paranoid part of her mind wondered if perhaps this was a set-up; a Huntsman trap for any White Fang member foolish enough to take the bait so they could interrogate her as to her camp's location.

"That's not possible," she told herself. "Adam and High Leader Khan wouldn't make that kind of mistake. If they thought this was a set-up, they would never have approved this for a single operative," she was only too certain. Having convinced herself, she looked around the field for any sign of the supposed facility.

But the only thing that broke her view of the flowing grass field was a small and rather rusted metallic shed. It barely looked big enough for one person to fit inside, let alone house any sort of research materials. Still, it was the only thing around these coordinates that looked manufactured, so she moved toward it.

As she drew closer, Blake noticed that it looked to be in severe disrepair. Her hopes of finding lost technology sank even further. "If this is what I'm looking for, then someone is having a laugh at our expense," she grumbled, moving toward the door. Noting that it opened outward, and there was no handle on this side, she pulled out Gambol Shroud, her variable ballistic kusarigama. Gambol Shroud had multiple forms and uses; the sheath doubled as a cleaver she could wield in sync with the main weapon, which had a pistol built into the handle. She could fold the main weapon into a more compact form, perfect for throwing and retrieving with the help of the ribbon wrapped around her left arm. Still, at the moment, she left it in the sheath, using the whole unit as a lever to pry the door open.

The door was surprisingly heavy, and the inside of it looked to be made of solid steel. This confused Blake, as she hadn't expected such solid construction on first seeing the shed. More confusing was the hole in the floor at the back of the shed. Blake moved over to it and looked down. The hole was manmade, looking somewhat like a circular elevator shaft, although no elevator or even a cable was present. She couldn't see the bottom, even with her excellent night vision.

Frowning, Blake pulled out her scroll, and called Adam. "Blake here. I've found… something at the coordinates, Adam, but I'm not sure it's what we're looking for. Whatever it is, it goes deep underground, probably deeper than scroll signals can reach. I can get into it, but I'll likely be out of contact for a while."

"Hm… there's probably no danger given how old it is, but do you want reinforcements, Blake?" Adam asked. "I can have Ilia and Yuma there in a day or so."

Blake considered the idea. It would be nice to have Ilia here with her. Still, while the thought of seeing her chameleon friend was appealing, she wasn't sure it would be worth spending time with the taciturn bat faunus Yuma. "I'll be fine, Adam," she said. "I took on this mission, and I'll finish it by myself." After a pause, she added, "Still, if I don't check in within a couple of days, feel free to send Ilia and Yuma."

"As you wish. Be safe, my darling," Adam said in his loving manner. It was a semi-open secret in the White Fang that the two were… involved with each other, though they'd yet to go further than kissing; Blake was only 15 after all.

"I always try my best," Blake replied in a similar tone. She hung up, and after a moment of consideration, she firmly planted Gambol Shroud in its compact form into the ground at the lip of the hole, and began rappelling down, using her ribbon as the rope for her descent. As she made her way down the shaft, she spotted faded writing on the walls. Squinting, she could just make out the words.

"Hm… 'Aperture Science', huh? Sounds rather innocuous," she mused, and proceeded further down into the depths of the facility.