Chapter Text
The click of her heels against the wet concrete helped keep her anxiety in check. Underneath her silver mask, she counted in a whisper along to its tempo, breathing four in, four out. She scanned the dark streets, finding naught but dilapidated buildings and empty shadows, a far cry from what she was used to. The Mistral district had never been known for its beauty, but in recent years, gang operations and the outsourcing of manufacturing jobs had brought it to a new low. Weiss, who made her home in the Atlas district, had been well warned over the years of the dangers of the area she now found herself traversing, alone, at twilight.
It wasn’t as though she had a choice. Morning would find her back in Schnee tower, the central operations and corporate hub of SchneeTech, her family’s corporation. As the news outlets told it, her grandfather had struck gold with the invention of the oddly-named “scroll”, a cortical/ocular implant that essentially functioned as a computer embedded in the recipient’s brain. It could do essentially anything with the simple command of a thought, from searching the internet to reading out a person’s vitals. Naturally, such an innovation skyrocketed SchneeTech to astronomical success, quickly becoming the largest single entity in the city of Remnant.
A few decades later, after marrying into the family, Jacques Schnee became the new face of the corporation, helming it to somehow even greater heights. News outlets assured the populace that no, it was not a problem. The city was merely rewarding the shrewdness and ingenuity of an ubermensch, and their daily lives would go unaffected. This, of course, was only true for those wealthy enough to live in Remnant’s upper districts. The lower districts, Mantle, Mistral, parts of Vale, and particularly the outskirts known collectively as Menagerie were not so lucky. As Jacques drove the company ever further towards greater profits, the noose tightened around the less fortunate, with wages dropping, jobs disappearing, welfare dwindling.
Then came surveillance. “It’s for your own good,” claimed Jacques’ police lapdog, Chief Ironwood. “You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide.”
Catching the glint of a security camera out of the corner of her eye, Weiss shrunk further back into the hood of her coat, attempting to remain as inconspicuous as the daughter of the richest man on the planet could be. Morning would find her back in Schnee tower, back in his clutches, back being groomed to destroy the lives of thousands for profit.
The neon glow of the upper districts barely bled into the dreary undercity, with flickering streetlamps providing just enough light to guide her way through back alleys and shadowed corridors. She hoped she was going the right way. Her informant had been quite helpful, but there was only so much one could do when the scrolls didn’t even have full maps of the winding maze of buildings in the Mistral district.
Eventually, though, she stopped in front of an inconspicuous building, concrete like many of the others, cracking and disheveled. The faint thumping of a regular kick drum made itself audible through the walls, giving her the faintest clue that she might be in the right place. Her gaze traced the doorframe, searching for the sign she hoped, and just as she was about to give up, she spotted it–a faded black raven with sharp red eyes, tucked away near the bottom corner of the door. At once, her triumph and her nerves spiked. Now that she was here, she would have to go through with it. There were no more excuses to be made. She had spent months steeling her resolve, assuring herself that this needed to be done. She knew it needed to be done. With a deep breath, she stepped inside.
The first thing she noticed was the chromatic contrast. Where the exterior had been gray and drab, the interior of the place–what she assumed was a bar slash club–was lit with neon purple ambience, spinning rainbow dance lights on the dancefloor, and dim white-blue lighting above the tables and booths. The faint thumping she heard outside became a body-shaking pulse inside, drowning out much of the other subtleties of whatever song might have been playing. The dancefloor itself was packed, a stark contrast to the exactly zero people she’d seen on her trek. Interestingly, though, the booths were sparsely populated, only a few patrons nursing drinks scattered around the tables. She’d only recently turned twenty-one, but she scarcely had time to spend reading a book for leisure, much less explore the nightlife of Remnant. It was unlike anything she’d experienced.
Another deep breath caught her curiosity and dragged her conscious brain back to her task. She couldn’t afford to waste her time gawking at the unfamiliar scenery. A quick mental command to her scroll flashed the current time in the corner of her vision. 11:34 PM. She had less than two hours before the servants performed their nightly routine checks. She was cutting it close, but if all went well, she’d be back at the tower with more than twenty minutes to spare.
If all went well.
Sweeping the room, her gaze quickly descended on a pair of women, one black haired and one blonde, sitting at a particularly large corner booth. That had to be them. The pit of her stomach dropped, and she once again resorted to counting out breaths. It was unlikely, but the possibility of dying tonight loomed ever large over her. The mask and hood should be enough to keep her from being recognized, but should does not always equal will.
Moments later, she was standing in front of the pair’s table, too paralyzed by fear to speak. Her fight or flight instincts were screaming at her to flee, to get out of this bar, to never think about what she came here to do. Yet, she stood there, resolve as yet unbroken, as two pairs of eyes looked up at hers.
“Yes?” queried the black-haired woman. There was a hint of annoyance underpinning the casualness of her tone.
That simple word disarmed her just enough to speak. “R-Raven Branwen,” she said, stumbling over the first syllable but quickly catching herself, “I have come to hire your crew for a job.”
The woman snorted as if Weiss was beneath her. “Then talk to one of the contacts, and leave us be.”
This much Weiss had prepared for. “This is not a job I would trust anyone less than the Bandit Queen herself with.” Hopefully flattery would help her case.
“Oh?” It did seem to catch her attention. “And what, pray tell, might this job be?”
“I… do not feel it wise to discuss in public. Is there a more private space we could negotiate in?”
Raven raised her eyebrows. “Now this is interesting. A job that my contacts can’t handle, and a request for a private space. What do you think, Yang?”
The blonde woman, clad in a ratty cut-off tank top that read “DRAGON PRINCESS”, popped the bubble she was blowing and went back to chewing her gum. “I could take her. Y’know, if I had to.”
If letting them believe that would get her a private audience, then she was perfectly willing to let them believe she was defenseless. She might not win in a direct fight, but her experience with the rapier hidden under her cloak would likely allow her to at least escape, if worst came to worst.
“Hm. Sounds like it’s your lucky day.” Raven stood, with Yang taking a lazy moment before emulating. “Follow me.” The pair sauntered towards a nondescript door on the side wall, hidden between the dance lights and the empty booths. Weiss obeyed, staying a respectable distance away, though she caught her traitorous eyes lingering on Yang’s ass more than once, her slim jeans highlighting every curve.
The room they entered was as unremarkable as the door, save for the desk and chairs at the far end of the room. Raven and Yang each took a seat behind the desk, leaving Weiss standing in front of it, attempting to look confident and in control. Which, unfortunately, was proving to be more difficult than she planned. The blonde had seemingly picked up on her sapphic inclinations, flashing her a wink as she popped another bubble. She suppressed her blush as best she could, looking away momentarily, before returning her gaze to the woman in charge.
Raven looked at her with sharp interest. “So. What sort of job brings you to me, personally, in the privacy of my back room?” She clicked her tongue. “Must be pretty important.”
This was it. This was the moment.
“I want you to kill Jacques Schnee.”
There was a nigh imperceptible widening of Raven’s eyes as Yang popped yet another bubble. The room fell silent for a moment as the request hung heavy in the air, settling into the minds of all three. Raven leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. “Run that by me again?”
Weiss gulped, choking back the bile that had started to rise up in her throat. As horrible as the man was, asking someone to murder her father was beyond the pale. “I would like to hire you to assassinate Jacques Schnee, head of SchneeTech–”
“I know who Jacques is,” Raven snapped. “What I want to know now is who would have the audacity to make such a request.”
And suddenly, Weiss retreated into the comfortable persona of a businesswoman and negotiator. It was one of the few skills her father had taught her, in order to fulfill her destiny as heiress, and it would be instrumental in plotting his downfall. “In your line of work, you must understand the need for your clients’ privacy.”
Raven feigned offense. “Of course we do. There’s many people in this city who’d be happy if Jacques woke up dead tomorrow. I’m just wondering who’s got the balls to actually order that hit.”
“All you need to know is that my money is good. I am prepared to wire thirty million lien, ten up front and twenty–”
“No, you don’t understand.” Raven had seemed relaxed until that moment, immediately putting more bite into her words. “This isn’t a simple assassination. I kill Jacques, this entire city is immediately different.” She stood up, starting to pace. “Police presence quadruples. Laws get passed. A goddamn power vacuum in the most powerful corporation ever to exist opens up. The repercussions of what you’re asking are tremendous.” Just as suddenly, she stopped, turning to face Weiss. “So I need a damn good reason to take him out, as much as the bastard might deserve it.”
Yang stood up next to her, cracking her knuckles, and immediately, the rapier by Weiss’s side felt a whole lot more friendly. “I’ll ask again, only once more. Who are you, and why do you want Jacques dead?”
She did, in fact, have an answer to Raven’s question, but as any good businesswoman, she held fast in playing her cards close to the chest. “I would prefer to not divulge that information.”
Raven sighed, closing her eyes. Then, she gave an imperceptible nod, and Yang sprung forward with blinding speed, one fist extending in a right hook as she flew towards Weiss. However, it never connected, instead meeting the cold steel of Myrtenaster, just inches from her face. Weiss silently thanked her older sister for the hours of combat practice she insisted upon.
Somehow, the gloves the blonde wore hadn’t been split, clearly much thicker than an average pair of leather gloves. The surprise written across Yang’s face was palpable, but it was quickly shaken off as she brought her left hand around for a second assault, only to be met again by the flat off Weiss’s sword. This was going about as poorly as she planned for. Weiss’s eyes scanned the room for possible exits, finding none other than the door they’d come in through. It would have to do.
The brawler let loose a flurry of blows, testing the limits of Weiss’s reactions. She was able to keep up with her parries, just barely, as Yang pushed her further and further back towards the other side of the room, closer and closer to her escape route. Yang came in for a powerful uppercut, and she stepped to the side, letting it fly by her without connecting; however, the blonde seemed to have anticipated this, bringing her left hand around to take a sucker punch right at Weiss’s stomach. She noticed, but not in time to dodge or deflect. The blow grazed her, not even fully connecting, yet it carried enough force to push her back several feet.
To her credit, she landed on her feet, sparing a glance towards the door to gauge her exact position and readying Myrtenaster for any follow ups. For some reason, though, Yang had stopped, brow furrowed in disbelief. Confused, she looked at Raven, who had a decidedly surprised expression painted across her face, eyebrows raised. Tension laid thick over the room as she waited for either to act.
Then she noticed her hair was loose. A neatly tied silver ponytail, released from its cage under the hood, immediately identifying her to anybody who saw it.
It was Raven who finally broke the silence. “Now this is interesting.”
“Gotta say, not who I was expecting,” added Yang.
“Did you get tired of waiting around for daddy to die?” Raven poked. “Couldn’t stand having that much wealth and power just outside your reach?”
With this revelation, all her best laid plans went out the window. Part of her knew she should remain detached, remain cool, but her offense was immediately apparent. “You know nothing of my plans! I am not some greedy impudent heiress who simply desires money.”
The mob boss drifted out from behind the desk, finding a spot next to Yang. “Then enlighten us. What other possible reason would the heiress to SchneeTech have to want her father dead?”
Weiss sighed. There was no getting around this question. If it would get them to do it, fine. “SchneeTech, and by extension, Jacques, are far too powerful. It isn’t right that one man controls an entire city. With him gone, I would be able to arrange a series of deals in order to split up and downsize the corporation to a reasonable level, as well as split the distributed power amongst a board of directors.” She shifted her weight, lowering Myrtenaster and squaring her shoulders. “I want to return this city to the greatness it once had.”
“Pfft. Yeah right.” Yang tossed her hair back. “Even if you meant that right now, who knows what would happen once you got that power.”
She… hadn’t quite thought of that. “What?”
“Power corrupts, yeah?” She took a moment to blow another bubble. Somehow, the gum had survived the fight. “You might actually want to break up the power of SchneeTech, but like, once that power is yours, you’re not gonna wanna give it up so easy.”
Weiss did not like being on the back foot during negotiations, and she was very much in that position. “W-well, it’s not as though there are alternatives.”
Yang folded her arms. “What if we brought in a faunus?”
She shot a look at the blonde. “A what now?”
“A faunus. In particular, a member of the White Fang.” She and Raven glanced at each other. “We can talk details with her, but I think having, like, a ‘transition team’ to make sure you actually do what you say is a better plan than just trusting a Schnee.”
This was getting out of hand. She needed to retreat, regroup, and approach this with a different plan of attack. Maybe, just maybe, she could make this work for her, but she was also running out of time. “I would be open to having this discussion with your contact in the White Fang at a later date. I must be off soon, so we should address communication in order to plan such a meeting.”
Raven nodded. “I believe we may be able to come to an agreement. This has certainly been one of the more interesting nights of my life, to say the least.”
Yang nodded as well, taking charge of the conversation. “I’ll be in contact within the week. Don’t ask how, trade secret. We’ll have a little meeting with Belladonna, hash out the deets, see if we can’t bring your family’s empire to its knees.”
“Belladonna? Ghira Belladonna?” Weiss asked. As much as she wanted her father dead, she wanted to work with Ghira even less. The Belladonna family had led brutal riots against SchneeTech for decades. Given their history, she gave it a fifty-fifty chance of him murdering her on sight.
Raven chuckled. “No, not Ghira. The old fool retired a while ago.”
“We work with his daughter now. She really knows her shit, too,” Yang said.
“What’s her name?” Weiss demanded. A bit of research could give her a leg up in knowing who she was dealing with.
“Blake. Blake Belladonna.”