Fate's Wild Card Ch.5

The cool night air did little to ease Blake's frustration as she perched on the edge of a rooftop, amber eyes narrowed at the building across the street. Even with her natural night vision, it wasn't a perfect view—shadows still concealed details she needed, and the distance obscured subtleties she couldn't afford to miss. Which a pair of binoculars helped to overcome some of those obstacles.

"Brilliant move, Belladonna," she muttered sardonically, her voice barely audible even to her own sensitive ears. "Enroll at the most prestigious Huntsman academy on Remnant using the name of a known White Fang associate. Truly your finest strategic decision."

Her cat ears twitched irritably beneath her bow, the fabric a constant reminder of the identity she both embraced and concealed. Of all the thoughtless decisions she'd made since leaving the White Fang, that one ranked near the top of her growing list of regrets. 

She was the daughter of Ghira Belladonna, former High Leader of the White Fang, and Kali Belladonna, both prominent Faunus rights activists. And she had been the partner of Adam Taurus, current leader of the Vale branch—a man whose methods had grown increasingly violent and whose shadow she couldn't seem to escape.

And she'd written that name—her full, real name—on the Beacon application forms.

Blake leaned back against the brick chimney stack, exhaling heavily. The irony wasn't lost on her; she'd been desperate to escape her old life, to create something new from the ashes of her mistakes, yet she'd lacked either the foresight or perhaps the courage to truly disappear.

"So much for reinvention," she sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability no one else would witness. "Another half-measure from someone who specializes in running away."

At least Headmaster Ozpin hadn't immediately contacted the authorities. A small mercy that felt more like another manipulation than genuine compassion. Instead, he'd invited her to his office, set a mug of tea before her that smelled suspiciously like her favorite blend from Menagerie—a detail too specific to be coincidence—and gazed at her with those unreadable eyes that seemed to hold a lot of experience.

"We both know who you are, Miss Belladonna," he had said simply. "Perhaps it's time you shared your story."

So she did.

About the White Fang's transition from peaceful protest to violent activism. About Adam's increasing brutality and her growing horror at what they were becoming. About the dust robberies and train heists that had crossed lines she hadn't even realized she'd drawn until they were far behind her. Names, locations, plans—she'd given Ozpin everything she knew, each word simultaneously freeing and condemning her.

It wasn't betrayal, she told herself firmly.

It was necessary. 

The White Fang had strayed far from its original purpose, corrupted by rage and vengeance that would only perpetuate the cycle of hatred between humans and Faunus. Innocent people—human and Faunus alike—were getting hurt. Would continue to get hurt if someone didn't intervene.

That someone apparently being her—because apparently fighting injustice meant trading one problem for another.

Which was how she found herself on this rooftop in the midnight hours, watching the apartment of a rabbit Faunus named Pryce—one of Ozpin's "small conditions" for her continued enrollment at Beacon.

She still remembered that moment in his office, the way he'd examined her over steepled fingers.

"Nothing extreme," Ozpin had assured her with that enigmatic smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Just some occasional assistance with matters requiring... discretion."

Discretion. A pleasant euphemism for espionage.

Tonight's "assistance" had begun at the Vale Police Department, where she'd been called to wait for her target to leave, which he did after a tediously long while. From there, she'd followed him through the commercial district, then paid a taxi to follow his ride. The driver had given her such a suspicious look that Blake had almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

‘No, I'm not stalking an ex,’ she'd wanted to say. ‘Just doing reconnaissance for the headmaster of Beacon Academy. Perfectly normal future student activity.’

She eventually reached the residential district in a good enough zone, where her target finally entered the apartment building she now watched.

Third floor, second window from the left. The lights had been turned on.

But before she could fully lock in, her ears twitched beneath her bow as she detected movement behind her, causing her to freeze and hold her breath. Her muscles tensed instinctively, coiling like springs ready to launch her into either attack or retreat.

It couldn't be that somebody was out there, but her hand instinctively moved to Gambol Shroud at her side, fingers wrapping around the familiar grip in a gesture that had become second nature.

She carefully looked over her shoulder, scanning the darkness, but saw nothing except some sort of pot falling but not shattering but scattering dirt everywhere.

The wind, probably. Just the wind playing tricks on senses too highly attuned to danger.

She let out a long, controlled breath, forcing her racing heart to slow. She was a little too paranoid lately, but she couldn’t help it. The way she left the Fang, she was seriously worried that somebody was tailing her.

This was not how she'd planned to spend her time before Beacon initiation. She was supposed to be focused on preparing and training, everything aimed toward becoming a proper Huntress—someone who protected both humans and Faunus, not someone who spied on her own kind for an old headmaster.

"From one compromise to another," she whispered to the night air, a bitter smile touching her lips. "At what point am I actually making a difference instead of just changing sides?"

The question hung unanswered in the darkness as her gaze returned to the illuminated window across the street.

Blake shifted her position, carefully balancing along the rooftop's edge to maintain her vantage point as Pryce moved away from the window. She crouched lower, seeking a better angle that wouldn't expose her silhouette against the night sky.

Finding a new angle, she peered through the window just as Pryce began removing his sweater. Blake immediately rolled her eyes, a flush of embarrassment warming her cheeks despite the cool night air.

‘Great. This is exactly what that man meant by 'matters requiring discretion,'’ she thought sardonically. ‘Watching a stranger getting naked.’

She averted her gaze momentarily, a pang of shame cutting through her. This wasn't right—invading someone's privacy like this, especially another Faunus. How was this any different from the dehumanizing surveillance humans had subjected Faunus to for generations?

Still, she couldn't deny that when her eyes reluctantly returned to the window, Pryce had a rather well-maintained physique—athletic without being ostentatious, the kind of build that came from practical work rather than vanity.

That thought caused her to blink, then shook her head sharply.

"Focus, Belladonna," she chided herself. "You're here as an observer, not... whatever that was." She forced her thoughts back to the mission at hand, suppressing the unexpected and unwelcome direction her mind had wandered.

Her amber eyes narrowed as Pryce's demeanor suddenly changed. His posture shifted into something Blake recognized immediately—a defensive stance, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, shoulders squared but loose, and his long ears standing up right, eyes fixed on the door with the hyper-awareness of someone expecting trouble.

Blake's hand moved instinctively to Gambol Shroud once more. Years of training had taught her to read body language like others read books, and everything about Pryce now screamed potential danger.

Was he expecting trouble?

She wondered about the possibility. Or maybe he was paranoid like her.

The ethical debate of whether to intervene or remain a silent observer flashed through her mind. Ozpin had been frustratingly vague about the parameters of her sudden assignment. Was she meant to protect Pryce? Monitor him? Report his activities? Or was this some sort of test of her judgment?

Before she could settle on a course of action, Pryce moved to the door with caution, opened it—and a small woman practically launched herself at him, arms and legs wrapping around him.

Blake blinked twice, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected turn of events.

"What...?" she whispered, rubbing her eyes as if that might somehow change the scene she was seeing.

The woman was considerably shorter than Pryce, with a slight build that made her appear almost child-like against his frame. Yet there was nothing childish about the way she clung to him as he carried her toward the simple floor bed positioned against the far wall of the apartment.

Blake's brow furrowed as she observed the woman's hands moving in quick, precise patterns. Not random movements, but purposeful gestures that clearly held meaning—sign language, Blake realized, a form of communication she'd never had occasion to learn.

"So he's involved with someone who's deaf?" Blake murmured, feeling increasingly like an intruder on something deeply personal. "But why would the headmaster have me watching a rabbit Faunus and his girlfriend? What am I missing here?"

She scrutinized the scene more carefully, searching for any detail that might justify her uncomfortable position as voyeur. The woman's hands continued their elegant dance of communication, and Blake found herself wishing she understood what was being said. 

Until she didn’t.

Because that colorful woman turned her head and Blake felt her heart shoot to her throat because it SEEMED that she looked at her eyes.

She almost jumped out of fright.

But she shook her head, rationalizing that it was just a coincidence.

But all those thoughts died the moment that short woman opened her jacket abruptly and released her breasts and her brain suffered a small short-circuit.

Blake shook her head, blinking repeatedly as if that might somehow clarify the scene before her.

But then she forced her gaze away from the window, then looked back to confirm that what she'd just seen was not her imagination. "No, that's real. It's very real."

She swallowed hard. As she saw that woman pulling down her pants and then impaled herself in Pryce's member, she felt her face heat up and her body shiver.

'No, I-I have to get out of here,' she thought as she tried to get up but found herself glued in place by that unexpected erotic spectacle. She bit her lower lip. 'No, stop looking! That is not yours to see!'

Despite her mental protests, her amber eyes remained fixed on that scene where the girl was happily riding the rabbit Faunus while making lewd faces.

‘She is feeling really good, isn’t she?’

Her cheeks turned a deep red, as her face was burning way too much. She even covered her mouth, because she couldn't believe what she was watching.

That guy... Pryce, he had his hands on his lover's big breasts, guiding her as she bounced on top of him.

That woman was going up and down, and Blake couldn't help but feel excited with how she was being touched, and how her breasts were being held, and how that man was pounding into her with such energy.

Her legs rubbed together as her crotch started feeling warmer.

She couldn't hear anything but she just knew that she was moaning very loud. And her lover was probably moaning too.

That's when she felt very ashamed of herself, knowing that she should stop watching this intimate moment, but she couldn't look away. Her eyes were glued to the scene in front of her.

'What the fuck am I doing?'

But as she saw how that woman slammed herself and how that guy shockingly finished inside his girlfriend raw while holding her close, she finally gathered enough strength to force herself to turn away.

'Fuck...'

She took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair.

That was when she looked down and saw something unexpected.

Something that caused her to gasp. 

'Why am I wet?!'

She could feel how damp her panties had gotten from watching the couple.

But she couldn't believe how drenched her panties were, to the point that she felt a trickle slide down to her thigh. She didn’t even believe it was possible to get this wet just from watching others have sex.

She had never done anything like that before.

She wasn't THAT pent up, was she?

Then she tried to stand up and nearly fell over, because she felt weak on her knees.

She took a deep breath, trying to control her racing heart. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so flustered, so off-balance and… so aroused.

She needed to go back home and work this off as soon as possible.

"So," the voice said with unmistakable amusement, "enjoying the view?"

Blake let out a yelp and jumped to her feet in one swift motion, her heart hammering against her ribs as she whirled to face the intruder. However, her shaky legs' sudden movement betrayed her, as her heel caught on the uneven rooftop edge.

Time seemed to slow as she felt herself tilting backward, arms flailing uselessly as gravity claimed her. Her mind raced through options—her weapon, her semblance—but panic overrode training and she braced for impact.

Or so she thought as a strong hand suddenly closed around her wrist, arresting her fall with a jarring halt.

"Oops, sorry," the voice said, now strained with effort. "Didn't mean to startle you."

With one powerful pull, Blake found herself hauled back onto solid footing, away from the roof's edge. The moment her boots touched the surface, she yanked her arm free and growled, reaching for Gambol Shroud in one fluid motion.

"Wait!" The intruder—a dark skinned woman with straight brown hair—raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Ozpin sent me."

Blake kept her hand on her weapon, amber eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. "Prove it," she demanded, voice low and dangerous. She'd been fooled before, trusted too easily. Never again.

The woman sighed and slowly reached into her pocket, withdrawing a scroll displaying Ozpin's personal emblem. "He sent me to check on you. You weren't responding to his messages."

Blake's expression faltered. She retrieved her own scroll with her free hand, eyes widening when she saw the cascade of unread messages—all from the headmaster.

"I..."I was distracted." The admission tasted bitter, as she didn’t want to admit that she was just watching a couple having sex.

"Don't worry about it," the woman said with a casual wave. "But you should head back. I can take over from here. All we needed was to find his place, which you've done. So… mission complete, I guess?"

Blake nodded reluctantly, still processing how completely this woman had managed to sneak up on her. 

It was... unsettling.

"Who are you?" Blake asked, finally letting go of Gambol Shroud.

The woman's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes—a familiar expression that Blake had seen a couple of times, the smile of someone carrying too many secrets.

"You can call me Amber."

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AN: Kitten is hungry for milk it seems.

Of course the headmaster from a prestigious academy wouldn’t just let a terrorist walk freely in his academy without some strict conditions in place. Since he is all about second chances.