Egrer tiredly collapsed into his room. In the auditorium, the Headmaster was giving a speech honoring all those who died during the breach. He listened to it for about two minutes, couldn't take any more. Then he cited feeling unwell and left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Egrer grabbed a pillow and pressed it to his face so hard it was as if he wanted to smother himself. Then he screamed. Yelled until his throat went dry and his chest started to hurt. The neighbors would have definitely heard him, if anyone was even left in the dorms at all. But all of Beacon was listening to Ozpin.
Egrer tossed the pillow aside and fell to the floor. After which he lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, ignoring the pain in his cast-encased leg. The room he had lived in for so long now felt alien and cold to him.
He couldn't wrap his head around the thought that Torchwick and Neo weren't just criminals, but cold-blooded terrorists. His mind tried to accept it, but his heart fiercely resisted. He clung to memories. To who Torchwick had been to him. To the irony, the jokes, the lectures, the rare moments of... warmth?
He made up excuses, anything at all, just to avoid accepting the truth. But could any of that really justify a massacre? The answer was obvious. And that was exactly what caused the most pain.
With a sharp motion, Egrer reached his hand out and forcefully pulled his guitar to him. Baby's strings trembled pitifully under his rough grip, letting out a discordant twang. Right now, he needed a distraction. To immerse himself in what always helped - doing what he loved. And then he could return to his thoughts with a clear head.
But the moment his fingers rested on the fretboard and pressed down on a familiar chord, he froze. He couldn't squeeze out even the simplest melody. He randomly plucked Baby's strings, as if he had forgotten how to play. It was as if something inside his soul had broken... and it made him angry.
Irritation flared up with renewed vigor. Egrer furiously tossed Baby aside, as if she were to blame for all his troubles. She smacked against the wooden leg of the bed and bounced off, a crack spreading across her body. For a brief moment, a rattling sound hung in the room, but it stopped as soon as the guitar fell face-down on the strings.
Egrer jumped up and clenched his fists. He wanted to break something. With a crunch and a crack, so that pieces would fly everywhere, and this vile feeling would leave his soul.
A knock on the door saved the guitar from death. Egrer had already wound up to smash her against the wall.
"Egrer, you in there?" It was Blake. Perhaps it was hard for her to listen to the Headmaster's speech, too. After all, it was her former brothers and sisters in arms who had orchestrated the massacre in Vale.
"I don't wanna talk to anyone!" he yelled through the door.
"Me neither. But I have something for you. It's important."
Egrer dropped the guitar to the floor, grabbed his crutch, and yanked the door open. Blake stood at a safe distance, holding out a black bowler hat with a red ribbon.
"And why do I need this?" Despite his words, he took it and examined it from all sides, as if not believing it was actually his thing. "And where did you get it?"
"It was lying near the locomotive. Yang wanted to take it as a trophy, but I figured you'd need it more. You've always been sentimental. Maybe this will help you."
At first, he wanted to—he really wanted to—throw the hat in her face and say something harsh. But he didn't. Egrer looked down at the hat, held it in his hands for another second. And said quietly:
"Thanks."
"It's just... I can understand you."
"Really? Did your dad also commit a terrorist attack, let a bunch of Grimm right into the center of Vale, and then joke and laugh as if nothing happened?"
"Almost." She nodded seriously, throwing him off. Blake stepped into the room, as if not wanting to talk about such things in the hallway. Egrer sneezed and took a few steps back. "Adam Taurus. I told you about him. He was behind all this too, he had to be. And for a while... I loved him."
Egrer now felt exactly like Weiss did when he blurted out to her, 'I'm the adoptive son of Roman Torchwick.'
"Can I get some backstory to understand the context?"
"No. Just know that I loved him and turned a blind eye to his atrocities... up to a point. First, he made excuses that innocent casualties were just accidents. Then he said you can't win a war without blood. And later, he didn't even give a second thought when someone died, friend or foe. He stopped counting the dead, and with such ease sent his fighters to certain death, or gave orders to blow up hospitals, execute prisoners..."
Blake realized she was rambling.
"...At some point I left, but before that, I spent a long time making up excuses. Because I was blind." She smiled faintly, as if those feelings hadn't completely left her yet. "You know, I used to think love was something pure and elevated. But in reality, it just turned me into an idiot."
Egrer didn't know how to respond to such a revelation. He blew his nose into a tissue and rubbed his red nose.
"Thanks for sharing."
Blake herself had no desire to expand on this topic, clearly feeling uncomfortable from such a personal conversation. She turned to the door, saying a few words in parting:
"Put a definitive end to all this. Even a symbolic one. And then just move on. I didn't put an end to my story, and it continues to haunt me."
"Hold on. Something doesn't add up here."
"Egrer, it's pretty clear, you don't need to try and justi—"
"I'm not talking about that. How did you beat Torchwick? I don't wanna doubt Ruby and Yang's skills, but at the docks, Roman wiped the floor with you and Sun. The two of them couldn't have taken him down. Roman always plays the long game. If he surrendered—it means he already knows how to get out of it."
Blake paused, letting go of the doorknob.
"Yang said she just hit him really hard. Ruby said he underestimated them and was just running his mouth. I..." Blake hesitated, as if mulling it all over for the tenth time, "...believe in their abilities."
"Running his mouth non-stop sounds very much like Roman." Egrer nodded, leaning on his crutch. "But he only acts like that if he's certain of his victory. Sometimes he loses just to win later. Throwing a battle to win the war isn't his favorite trick, but he's pulled stuff like that in the past."
"I have a hard time imagining what kind of plan could be behind this." She furrowed her brows, sinking into thought. "Torchwick is facing execution for his crimes, he lost. As far as I know, Ironwood threw him in the brig on his flagship. That doesn't look like a plan, it looks like a dead end."
"Even if you really did beat Torchwick, why didn't Neo interfere? She could have taken out any of you, and Professor Oobleck wouldn't have lasted long against her either. If she didn't step in... it means she was playing by a script."
Blake rubbed the bridge of her nose. She went quiet, but a flash of fear flickered in her eyes.
"I don't know, Egrer. I'm tired. All of this..." she shook her head, as if trying to dust off her thoughts. "There are so many layers of lies around us, and I'm afraid there's another one behind each, and another. We all need some rest."
"Didn't expect to hear words like that from you, Miss 'Slept for two hours all week, but at least took photos of every new arrival'."
"I promised Ruby I'd take a break." Blake smiled faintly, opening the door. "And I've started noticing my mind is slipping myself. I wanna lie and say one night will fix everything, but I don't even believe it myself. Too much has been dumped on us in one day. You get some rest, too."
When Egrer was left alone, he sat on the bed, pulling his good leg to his chest. He twirled Torchwick's hat in his hands. He stared at it unblinkingly for a long time, lost in heavy thoughts. The sun had already dipped toward the horizon; a warm ray hit Egrer right in the face.
He didn't know how long he sat there like that, not distracted by anything. But at some point, everything fell into place in his head. The thoughts that had been going in circles for a long time were finally sorted out. Egrer took the hat, leaned on his crutch, and left the room.
He went to the cliff from which he and the other first-years had been launched into the Emerald Forest during Initiation. This place met him with a strong wind that pushed against his back, as if urging him on. He walked right up to the edge, his toes dangling over the abyss. In a way, his new life had started exactly here. And now it was time to end his past life here, too.
Egrer reluctantly tore his gaze away from contemplating the once-emerald forest and the silver hull of the Atlesian flagship. He gathered a small pile of twigs and dry leaves, placing Torchwick's hat on top.
"You've always been a total piece of shit," he said tiredly, rolling a lighter between his fingers. "I still don't know if you actually cared about me as best you could, or if you were just training a henchman you could throw under the bus if something happened."
He held his breath. Gathered his thoughts. Continued.
"Either way, you did a crappy job. But something always kept me and pulled me back. As if, if I finally renounced you completely, I'd be renouncing myself, too."
A gust of wind tore a few dry leaves from a tree. One landed right on the hat, and Egrer brushed it aside.
"I turned a blind eye to a lot of things, but this is too much. I don't want to carry even a shadow of you on me anymore. No idea what exactly was pulling me back, but I hope it burns."
Then he took Neo's letters out of his inner pocket. The ones with good wishes and instructions on what to do and how to do it to ruin the Puppeteer's plans. And which everyone but him had deemed if not a trap, then smoke and mirrors.
"I don't doubt, Neo," his voice grew quieter, "you wanted to help me. In your own way. But you were part of this, too. Just because you never cared about the pain and death of strangers. I bet you didn't even flinch when the breach started... so what, they died, big deal, right? You only have him and me. That's your whole world that you care about. Even Roman is more empathetic."
It hurt Egrer twice as much because she was tied to his most pleasant childhood memories.
"And I... I don't want to be part of a world where everyone else is destined to be trash you can just sweep aside."
He carefully placed the letters next to Torchwick's hat, on top of the twigs and leaves. He stood for another moment, as if giving his thoughts one last chance to stop him. But inside, calm reigned. The realization that he was doing the right thing.
"Goodbye."
Egrer flicked the lighter, and the flame licked a dry splinter, creeping higher and higher. The hat and letters caught fire quickly, but he didn't stay to watch them burn. He turned around and walked away from the cliff.
Egrer walked back to Beacon.
Egrer walked forward.
***
*Tick-tock, tick-tock.*
"Headmaster, I'd like to cash in your old promise. That I can safely tell you anything and it won't affect my life in any way."
Ozpin placed his coffee mug on his desk and gently pointed to the chair opposite him. His face remained habitually unreadable, but focus appeared in his eyes.
"The promise still stands, Mr. Peleni. But," he tiredly massaged the bridge of his nose, "after the breach, I have a lot of work and a lot of calls from concerned city residents. I hope this is important."
"More than."
And Egrer told him everything from the very beginning, laid it all out honestly. How he got a call from Torchwick warning him that the Puppeteer had infiltrated Beacon. How he, along with Blake and Sun, went to the White Fang rally and stumbled upon the Paladins. How they chased shadows, hunting for the Puppeteer's illusionist within the academy's walls.
He listed all the suspects, everyone who they thought could turn out to be the Puppeteer or her minion. He even told him about Neo's Semblance and all the minor details that previously seemed insignificant. He told him a lot about Roman, too. He held nothing back.
Egrer didn't feel like a traitor. That feeling had burned in the fire.
Ozpin listened silently. His face didn't change at all throughout the story; only the light tapping of his fingers betrayed his thoughtfulness.
When Egrer fell silent, a resonating quiet hung in the room. Only the workings of the giant clock mechanism broke it.
*Tick-tock, tick-tock.*
It seemed Ozpin was running everything he had heard through his head for the third time. Having reached some conclusion, he sighed and, looking at him over his glasses, calmly said:
"I admit, I must express a certain... dissatisfaction." Ozpin chuckled self-deprecatingly. "An entire underground investigation unfolds right under the Headmaster's nose, and he, as is customary, is the last to know."
He raised an eyebrow, observing Egrer's reaction. Who, it seemed, was already regretting his decision.
"Youth cannot resist the temptation to do everything on its own. And that is commendable. Those who run to their elders at the first sign of trouble to shift the responsibility onto them do not become adults. But you and your friends have shown that you are ready to make decisions and take risks. And what is especially important, you showed prudence. When the situation became truly serious, you did not fall victim to pride, but came to me."
Egrer scratched the back of his head. He had expected a lot of things, but praise? These words were pleasant to hear, even if they were confusing. This was nothing short of an acknowledgment of maturity from the strongest Huntsman of the modern era.
"Thank you..."
"Thank you. So, three girls: one short and mute, the second dark-skinned, the third looks like Miss Belladonna, and the fourth member is unknown. We can work with this."
"Judging by everything, Neo was on that train," Egrer added. "Which means she wasn't at Beacon, and if so, we need to find a team where one of the members was absent from field practice during that time."
"Unfortunately, many students neglect their duties; there will be far too many suspects. Furthermore, it's not always possible to accurately determine if a student was on practice; some resort to various tricks and cheat the system." Ozpin thoughtfully took a sip from his mug. "You show a keen interest in the situation. I am curious to know, do you plan to stop and leave everything to me?"
"Absolutely not," Egrer replied firmly. "This is personal for me, especially after today. For Blake too. And Weiss is worried that someone tied to the White Fang is roaming around Beacon. I can't vouch for the rest, but the three of us definitely won't stop. You're... not against it, are you?"
Ozpin chuckled slightly, as if the question didn't surprise him, but merely confirmed his expectations.
"I am not. The life of a Huntsman is full of dangers, and not all of them are tied to the Grimm. Overprotection has never benefited anyone, especially young Huntsmen. My duty as the Headmaster of Beacon is not to keep you safe and warm, but to prepare you for a dangerous life. Consider this situation an unplanned test. The examiner will be the most impartial judge in the world—life itself."
Egrer was at a loss. He had expected to hear something completely different from a Headmaster and teacher.
"And another thing, Headmaster," he suddenly remembered. "When we were breaking Blake out of the Atlesians' captivity, I... well, hacked the flagship a bit and found a strange virus. I didn't understand exactly what it did, but it transmitted itself to all devices it came in contact with. You better check everything. And not with some leaky Atlesian antivirus, but with something more serious."
"Without fail. Have you ever considered a career in cybersecurity? 'White hat hacker' sounds quite proud. I believe the General would be glad to acquire the services of someone like you."
Egrer stared stupidly at the Headmaster. It hadn't really occurred to him that he could turn his skills toward the benefit of society. Those abilities carried far too many negative associations. But even if he were to become a white hat hacker, it definitely wouldn't be for Ironwood.
"On the General's orders, they stripped me naked right in front of Ruby during a search. I'm afraid I won't be able to resist pulling a couple of pranks on him. Like hacking his fridge and spoiling all his groceries."
"Just don't direct your talents against the coffee machines. We are all very attached to them."
Egrer chuckled at this simple joke. The conversation, despite everything, flowed easily. Ozpin was the kind of person you somehow immediately wanted to speak frankly with. He didn't pressure, didn't rush, but just sat, listened, and created a strange, yet very strong sense of security around himself.
"Anyway," Egrer added, "that virus was a rare half-assed job. I dunno if it was made that way on purpose or not, but I doubt I'd be able to find anything more serious. Bug hunting isn't exactly my profile, after all."
"A half-assed job or a cunning move, that is the question."
"Do you have anyone in mind?" Egrer asked cautiously. "Maybe you could share something, too?"
"I understand how my refusal might look, but my knowledge will not help you. In much wisdom is much grief, Mr. Peleni. And that is not a poetic excuse; it is the truth. What I know would only become a burden for you. You won't be able to do anything with this information. At least not right now."
Ozpin rose from his seat and walked over to the window.
"You need to prepare for what the future holds for us. The tournament is soon, and I hope your leg will heal by its start. Team Majesty and other distinguished individuals have already received top marks for their practice, as well as a week's exemption from classes. So get a good rest."
A disappointed Egrer stood up, took a firmer grip on his crutch, and headed for the elevator. As the doors already began to close, the Headmaster, as was his custom, added a few more words.
"Have you considered that a cane might look more aesthetically pleasing than a crutch?"
"Not on my life, no offense to you," Egrer grumbled, not appreciating the humor. The elevator doors closed, and he continued grumbling under his breath, now much angrier. "I'd rather roll around in a wheelchair than walk with a cane."
He was still a little mad at the crutch. Not because it made it hard to walk; it made it hard to think. Every step echoed in his ribs with a slight discomfort, serving as a reminder of his weakness and vulnerability. And an accidental brush against his leg caused pain in it. Not as intense as before, Aura and medicine were doing their jobs, but it was still unpleasant.
Egrer walked along the path leading from the Beacon tower toward the first-year dormitories. Few people strolled here in the evening, especially after such events. The sky had almost completely darkened, but the sunset today decided to drag on until the deepest night. The cold wind crept under his clothes and made him shiver.
The rhythmic tapping of the crutch against the stone path was his only companion. Egrer walked in silence and thought. The evening of revelations wasn't over yet. He had something to say to his own team.
When he reached the door to his room, Egrer felt a little scared. Because he had lied to them for a long time, held things back, and neglected their trust. But things couldn't go on like this.
The door opened with a light creak, and Egrer immediately met Magenta's gaze. Slathered entirely in burn ointment, she was already in her pajamas, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Illmond, as usual, was half-lying in the corner, drawing smut on his Scroll, yet he noticed his presence right away. Yort was watching a show on TV, but the moment Egrer walked in, he muted it. They were waiting for him.
"So-o-o..." Magenta drawled, clearly not wanting to push too hard. Yort, however, didn't possess her sensitivity.
"The fuck was that shit before the breach?" he asked displeasedly.
Well, this was to be expected, since Egrer had blabbed about a lot of things and acted weirdly. He sat down and told them roughly the same thing he told Ozpin. The Puppeteer, the White Fang, Roman... He was honest and frank, and therefore hoped, no, prayed, that they would understand. But, unfortunately, there was no understanding on their part.
Rather, it was Egrer who didn't understand them. Such a long silence couldn't go unnoticed by either them or him.
"I just didn't want to drag you into my personal conflict..." Egrer tried to justify himself, but it only made things worse.
Yort bristled. He knew a lot and guessed a lot due to his role as a freelance oracle, but something else offended him.
"Tell it like it is! You didn't want us stickin' our noses where they don't belong. But when one of us got problems - you're the first one to push your advice. You're our 'team player', ain'tcha?"
"Hypocrite," Illmond quietly agreed.
"It was dangerous!" Egrer nearly yelled. "If I got you involved, you could have gotten hurt."
"And what changed?" Illmond asked. "Is it safer now? Or after today did you just realize that we'd already started suspecting something ourselves, so you decided to 'trust us' before it got worse?"
"That's... not true. You're twisting things, I'm just tired of hiding it. It's a coincidence."
Illmond, always living with the feeling that he wasn't heard, appreciated, or understood, was the most upset. It confirmed his worst fears that he was useless. If even Egrer, his best and essentially only friend in the whole wide world, hadn't brought him into the loop—it meant he considered him unnecessary. Egrer felt ashamed that he only just realized this, and only thanks to his Semblance.
"And what's so dangerous about a Semblance?" Yort asked. "We're your partners. We ain't askin' you to spill state secrets, we just wanna know what you're capable of. And now it turns out, motherfucker, that your trust in us is below rock bottom. So we gotta bare our souls to you, but you don't owe us shit?"
"It's tied to the Puppeteer," Egrer stubbornly continued. "My Semblance is the only thing that lets us tell the illusionist apart from our own with certainty. The fewer people who know about it, the less chance the enemy will find out—"
"You know who's worse than any enemy?" Illmond interrupted him. "A friend who doesn't trust you."
"You're underestimating Her." Egrer turned to Magenta seeking help. But she looked away, unable to look at him.
"You walled yourself off from us, and now you're surprised we're on the other side? Maybe it's a childish grudge, Eg, but what you did wasn't any better. We trusted you completely, but you didn't trust us. I understand that you never told me secrets because of my blabbering, but I've gotten better. I thought you noticed I've gotten better."
Egrer looked down. He had nothing to counter with. Only a heavy, crushing sense of shame devoured him from the inside. He felt everything inside him shrivel up.
"I thought I was protecting you..." he muttered in a trembling voice. "I really didn't want you guys to get hurt."
"We ain't some scrubs who need protecting!" Yort barked, clenching his fists. "I survived just as much shit as you in Vacuo, Ill's top-three strongest students in Beacon, and Madge..." He paused for a second to think. "...Manages to line us all up. And you decided to 'protect' us? Fucking hero!"
"That's not protection." Illmond stated weightily. "That's condescension. This... arrogant, noble patronage. As if we aren't on your level."
Egrer heavily sat down on his bed and hunched over. He stared at the floor, because he didn't know where else to look. For a long time, it felt like he was doing something wrong, because you shouldn't hide things like this from friends. But Egrer firmly believed that this feeling of wrongness was just the price for their safety, that it was his sacrifice. How naive.
He thought they would understand and show him the same support as always. But their reaction was completely different. It wasn't their anger that stung, but their disappointment in him. Anger is a storm; he could weather it. But this bitter sorrow hit him much harder. It was the severing of bonds they had built for so long.
"Eg," Magenta began quietly, "you didn't just hold something back, you cut us out of your life at such a critical moment. We feel useless, you know? Why even have... our team then? You said yourself that we need to share our problems with each other so we can solve them together."
Magenta is forgiving and cheerful, but nonetheless she feels far more than she shows. And even she, capable of magnanimity, couldn't instantly forgive the fact that she was kept in the dark. Because her way of expressing affection is being there for someone, especially in times of trouble. And Egrer hadn't given her that chance.
"I'm sorry," he forced out. He had no other words, only that notorious "I'm sorry."
Seething, Yort said to hell with it and turned the TV sound back on, not even wanting to look at him. Illmond sighed and pulled the blanket over his head, walling himself off from the hostile world. Magenta silently lay on her bed, placing her hands behind her head. Her eyes were wide open, as if she was trying to understand why everything had turned out this way. No tears, no sighs, just a detached and deep stare into the infinity of the drywall. She wasn't angry, or even particularly sad.
Everything has its price, Egrer had known this since childhood. But for some reason, he had always believed that if the goal is noble, if you act with the best intentions, the payback would be softer. That a noble intention was like armor. But the price doesn't drop because of good intentions; often, quite the opposite—it only gets higher.
Egrer had never felt so lonely.
"What are we going to do?" Magenta asked hollowly. "Any ideas? There are criminals in Beacon."
"Pfft," Yort snorted, "some news! Half the students here got in on fake docs. And half of that half were rolling deep in actual gang shit."
"You know what I mean." Magenta didn't react to his joke at all. Her voice sounded surprisingly detached. "These are real criminals, cruel and immoral. And they aren't here to study. Eg, you have to introduce us to the rest."
"Of course," Egrer nodded. He knew he should have done this earlier. "As for ideas—we're at a dead end for now. All we can do is keep an eye on the suspects. But there are too many of them. And our main spy—Blake—is constantly sleep-deprived. We still don't even really know the team rosters of all the visiting students. The tournament complicates everything; many are just being secretive and suspicious of students from other schools. They don't want to show their weaknesses and trump cards."
A hoarse voice came from under Illmond's blanket:
"When the tournament bracket is available, we'll know the teams. The Colosseum will arrive any day now."
"Gotta live to see that first," Yort grumbled. "My use is zero, tellin' you right now. Eg's crew grilled me with questions from time to time, but they didn't like any of it. Said my Semblance is buggin' out and showing some bullshit."
"So, espionage." Magenta asked thoughtfully, closing her eyes. It seemed she was already falling asleep from exhaustion. "Do you guys think... I'd make a good spy?"
"No," Yort cut in.
"No," Illmond poked his head out again.
"No," Egrer shook his head.
Magenta bolted upright so fast that pollen scattered everywhere. Such an attitude toward her non-existent skills deeply insulted their brave leader. She puffed her cheeks in offense.
"Have a little faith in me! I'm so friendly and nice, I can easily gain anyone's trust. And if they turn out not to be a villain, that just means I'll have another friend."
"Madge," Egrer said cautiously, raising his hands placatingly. "No one is arguing that you have phenomenal... social superpowers. But charm isn't the point here. You need... well, other things. Caution. Cold calculation. Insight."
"Is that so!" she flared up. "Don't think I'll be useless again. I'll easily gain our enemies' trust, they'll even let me in on their plans. They'll even complain if I go missing. First thing tomorrow, I'll find someone suspicious and befriend them!"
Egrer didn't argue. She'd get offended.
***
Emerald noticeably flinched. She looked back, thinking Neo had shot her one of her murderous glares. But no, she was lying on her bed, kicking her feet happily and reading a magazine. On the windowsill next to her bed sat an open makeup bag with a large mirror. In short, she was acting so carefree, as if the breach she had recently caused didn't bother her at all.
It even made Emerald a little uneasy. She, of course, would carry out any order from Cinder. It was the least she could do for what her benefactor had given a lowly street thief. But despite her unconditional loyalty, even Emerald wouldn't remain indifferent to... that. Instincts told her it was best to stay away from people like that.
Suddenly the door opened. Mercury walked in and, as usual, tossed a food container to Emerald as if feeding a street dog.
"Grub's up. And no, I didn't spit in it this time," he felt the need to add, not even bothering to look at her.
She tried to figure out if it was a joke or if he was serious. Sometimes his idiotic humor was impossible to read. On the one hand, he wouldn't dare do that, since bringing her food was Cinder's order. After Emerald had almost revealed her true appearance, she was forbidden from leaving the room unnecessarily. And so she wouldn't starve to death, Cinder made Mercury bring her food. But on the other hand, he was just too... too Mercury.
"What do you mean 'this time'?" Emerald narrowed her eyes. The thickness of his layers of irony, post-irony, and lies were sometimes unpredictable. She tried to figure out what level he was playing at right now and what level of play he expected from her. A standard squabble.
"Ah, so you didn't notice?" Mercury caricaturishly placed a finger on his cheek in a thoughtful gesture.
While he was making faces like who-knows-what, Emerald opened the container, spat in it, shook it up, and with a disgruntled, "Then you eat it!" tossed it back to him. Looking like a joyful winner, he sat on his bed and began to chow down on the slop with appetite.
Of course, he hadn't seen or realized anything. Only upon noticing her smug smile a minute later, Mercury looked down at his food, lost.
"Fuck. You got me." A second of quiet realization, after which he just kept eating. "But since I started, it's already tainted anyway, what's there to lose?"
"You're disgusting."
"That's why you love me." He burst out laughing, then turned to Neo. "Squirt!"
She disgruntledly tore herself away from her magazine and raised an eyebrow in a mute gesture.
"Cinder wanted me to tell you that since Roman is behind bars, she's gonna give you a double-sized thrashing. So you don't space out. And so, quote, 'next time your brains work in sync with the plan'."
Neo snorted, soundlessly as always, but with such expressive facial movements that no words could have conveyed her attitude towards Cinder, Mercury, and the whole situation more clearly. After which, with feigned calm, she went back to reading her fashion magazine.
"Cinder still isn't back?" Emerald asked.
"The Bull's always been a pain in the ass, and now someone waved a red cape right in front of his nose. He didn't like that his 'soldiers' died for nothing without getting to ride the Paladins around town." He shrugged. "So, diplomacy."
Mercury shot a pointed look at Neo. Emerald caught the message without words and immediately activated her Semblance, plunging her into an illusion. Neo continued to serenely flip through her magazine with her back to them, occasionally glancing into her makeup bag. She didn't even suspect that the usual chatter she was hearing right now was just a deception.
"Notice something?" Mercury asked, unusually serious, stepping closer to her. "Torchwick's goons shit the bed again. Not the first time. All the Bull's meat that Cinder entrusted him with got fried in that mess. Ain't it happening a bit too often? I mean, sure, he's on the flagship like planned, but something's bugging me. Either he's a total moron, or... he's plotting something."
"Torchwick wouldn't dare," Emerald said confidently. "He shakes at just one look from her. Or do you think he's acting so well he managed to fool even Cinder?"
"Nah, he's genuinely scared." Mercury didn't argue, crossing his arms over his chest. "But fear is a tricky thing. Makes some cower in a corner, scared to fight back, but makes others more dangerous. A cornered rat bites. And if that rat's got cash, connections, and a bruised ego—you better believe it'll rip your throat out easy."
He paused, watching with interest as Emerald clenched her fists.
"I'm just saying, if Cinder pushes too hard, this clown might stop playing by her rules. I think he's just waiting for the right moment. Y'know, like in chess? Sacks a piece so we think we're winning, and then bam, lights out. We've pulled that shit ourselves a couple times, you gotta notice the similarities."
"Wait, you know how to play chess?" Emerald was genuinely surprised.
"Course not, I ain't stupid," Mercury immediately denied it. "Just a nerdy metaphor. Anyway, what was I saying? Torchwick might be a clown, but he ain't an idiot. Doubt he got his rep and influence just for pretty eyeliner under his pretty eye. You don't think Cinder made him a key part of her plan for nothing, do you? Or do you think she made a mistake?"
"She didn't make a mistake, Cinder sees everything!" these words sounded more like a prayer. "If Torchwick is plotting something, she'll instantly know and crush him. Or her."
Emerald looked at Neo's back. The mute girl's face reflected for a moment in the makeup mirror and, it seemed to her, was looking at them intently. An unpleasant chill ran down her spine. It was that murderous glare.
"Sure." Mercury raised his hands as if agreeing, though a hint of skepticism slipped into his voice. "I ain't saying she's blind. Just that we gotta be careful. Doubly so right now, and triply so when the tournament starts."
Emerald nodded silently; the conversation was over. She dispelled the illusion over Neo and pulled her old deck of playing cards from a drawer. She spread them face down on the table and began arranging them in an order known only to her. It was an old trick she used when she wanted to bring at least a little order to the chaos in her thoughts. She didn't believe in fate and predictions; the associations the cards awakened in her head were what mattered here.
The Joker was drawn first. Torchwick. The Queen of Spades—Cinder. The Ace of Hearts... Emerald pondered. Who has an ace up their sleeve? She continued flipping cards, trying to find an answer to her question in them.
Mercury, meanwhile, walked to the window, sat on the sill, and stretched with a crack, clasping his hands behind his head. He shoved earbuds in and turned up the music so loud that even the others could hear the muffled bass. He didn't like thinking too much, but someone had to, right? Something was off with this plan, it seemed to him. But what exactly, he couldn't figure out.
And Neo... Neo smiled contentedly. The reflection in the makeup mirror showed her face again, now with a faint shadow of restrained triumph. Of course, she hadn't heard what they were actually discussing. But she knew how to read lips, and the little mirror was always sitting at just the right angle.
Well, since suspicions towards them were intensifying, there was a Plan B. She didn't like it, but her brave little wolf wasn't planning on giving up anyway. And since that was the case, he might as well be useful.