For the first time in a long while, Egrer managed to fall asleep. But not because all his anxieties had suddenly left him, not at all. He was just so exhausted over the last few days that he passed out the second he got under the covers.
Even in this brief moment of ragged sleep, he worried about Roman's strange plans and his vague threats. Torchwick was definitely not acting on his own free will; someone was forcing him. And this someone, this "Her", he feared to the point of trembling. In Egrer's memory, their family had never met anyone who could ultimately force them to work for them. Smartasses like that usually met a bad end, spending the rest of their lives in prison or on the run.
But here, She had obviously succeeded. Whoever She was, a person like that was worth fearing.
What do I do now? Suddenly, this question stood point-blank. However, there were already two ready answers for it.
Egrer no longer wanted to just figure out what was going on; he wanted to help his former family throw off this yoke. So they could be as free as the wind again, wandering the world and minding their own business. So everything could be like before.
Or he could follow Ozpin's advice, who had clearly let him know that it would be better for him to move forward and not live in the past. But to just sit on the sidelines while the next robbery was being planned somewhere out there for Her unknown goals? Where Roman and Neo were merely pawns, or worse—expendable material? Egrer couldn't do that, even if his life depended on it.
So the question was phrased incorrectly. He needed to ask himself, How do I help them?
And with that thought, he fell asleep peacefully. But not for long.
"Fuck, Eg!" rang out from the bathroom in the morning. Egrer wrapped himself head-to-toe in his blanket. "Eg, you asshole, get your ass in here!"
"I'm sleeping, what are you yelling for?!"
Yort didn't shy away from stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel and cursing him out with every known insult. Not quite understanding the reason for such aggressiveness, Egrer opened his eyes anyway.
"Pfft—ahahaha!" and he immediately burst out laughing, seeing a red-with-anger Yort with shoulder-length hair.
The reason for the Vacuan giant's indignation was simple—his constantly spiky blond mane, resembling a pineapple in shape, was now perfectly smoothed down.
"It's not funny, bitch! What kind of shampoo is that?"
"Normal shampoo, to make hair clean and manageable," Egrer replied after laughing his fill. "Why did you even touch it?"
"Mine ran out."
"So why are you cussing me out? It's your own fault."
"Because your fucking glamorous shampoo turned me into a homo! I don't wanna look like you!"
"I just take care of my appearance." Yort started grumbling and shaking his massive fist. "Oh, don't worry about it, so what if your hair laid flat for once. You're making a drama out of it. It'll stick up like before in a couple of days."
Suddenly, Magenta walked into the room.
"I heard all your cursing even from outside! I forbid you to watch TV until the end of the school year!"
Egrer couldn't hold back a smile; the return of their routine life made him happy. The daily bickering with Yort, keeping an eye on Illmond's perverted nature, Magenta's silly orders and punishments—all of this was so dear to his heart, and honestly, he had missed it immensely. Egrer promised himself that he wouldn't withdraw into himself that much ever again.
Buried in the problems that had piled onto him, he hadn't noticed that life in Beacon hadn't stopped. Now, during this brief respite, it felt like taking a breath of fresh air.
But only to dive right back into work. There was still so much to find out.
"What time is it?"
"It's already evening, you slept the whole day," Magenta replied. "But don't worry, the Headmaster let you three take the day off today. So nobody gave you F's for skipping class."
If there was one thing he cared about least, it was classes.
"Oh, right!" Magenta suddenly smacked her forehead. "Weiss has been waiting for you all day."
"That clinger kept tagging along with us," complained Illmond, who until then had been quietly lying in a nest made of his own clothes and blankets. "Kept muttering about some answers, tried to sniff something out of us. Well, you know Yort and me, we told that 3D chick to screw off right away, and Madge doesn't know anything important."
"Not very nice of Weiss to act like that," Egrer mumbled.
On the other hand, she admitted herself that she was about ready to put her head in a noose from how confusing the situation was, so it was possible to put oneself in her shoes. But still, he'd definitely give her a piece of his mind about it when they met.
Someone knocked on the door. The synchronous sigh of the pack almost certainly meant that the unexpected guest was Weiss. And since she was here for him, Egrer decided to open the door and finally deal with his promise.
"Hey."
"We need to talk," she cut straight to the chase.
"We won't get in your way," Magenta said cheerfully, pushing Illmond and Yort in their backs. They resisted sluggishly, but had already realized for themselves that it was easier to just give Weiss what she needed than to put up a pointless resistance. "We'll be waiting in the common room."
When the pack left, Egrer turned his attention to the guest. He felt sick from nerves.
"Sooo... are you here because of?.. Because of that thing?"
"Don't think I forgot your promise." Weiss pointed a finger at her eyes. "If it weren't for makeup, I'd be walking around with bags under my eyes. I didn't sleep all night. I need answers."
Egrer looked around. Talking about something like this in the hallway, right across from Cardin's room, who had already managed to eavesdrop on a very important conversation of Jaune's once... was an unwise idea.
"Come in," he nodded behind him.
It would have been better to find another place to talk, but Weiss definitely wouldn't stall. She needed answers right now.
But still, inviting her into his room was awkward.
Near Illmond's unmade bed lay a messy scattering of clothes, a half-empty soda bottle, and a bass guitar that he sometimes quietly strummed on. The wall was plastered with half-naked anime girls, which Weiss looked at with disdain. Even the mess didn't elicit the same reaction from her.
The opposite corner of the room was decorated in all the colors of the rainbow with the word "MAJESTY" written in large letters. Everything was cute and joyful, in stark contrast to Illmond's spot, which was dominated by the gloomy tones of a maximalist sick with perfectionism. Between these two extremes stood two more beds, and parallel bars were driven into the wall, supporting a massively sized TV that blocked one of the two windows.
"Slightly weird room, huh?"
"It's normal. Our beds are literally stacked on top of each other using piles of books and ropes tied to the ceiling."
"Sounds unsafe." Egrer pictured this scene, as well as the nightly fear of those sleeping on the bottom.
"Exactly. I sometimes feel like sooner or later I'll end up getting crushed." Weiss chuckled and carefully sat down on the nearest available spot—a steel case containing a disassembled drum kit. Thank goodness Yort wasn't around right now...
But Egrer couldn't sit down, he was too nervous. After all, he was about to confess not just that he was connected to criminals—Weiss had already figured that out—but that he was connected to Roman. And Roman frequently took on jobs related to the SDC, because competitors were ready to pay huge money for a few dirty tricks.
"Where to start..." the former thief mumbled, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Weiss waited patiently, although both understood that her patience was about to run out. "You see, it's pretty complicated..."
"One of my team members used to belong to an organization that set its goal to kill me and my entire family. And I forgave her. I seriously doubt you've done anything worse than that."
And honestly, that was pretty much impossible to top. So what was there to be nervous about? At most, the kind of damage Egrer could have done to her family and company was robbing ash shops and banks, stealing secret developments, industrial espionage, framing high-ranking officials, gathering dirt…
He paled as memories of those eventful years under Torchwick's wing flooded back. Sure, maybe they hadn't actually killed anyone, but they'd clearly pulled way more dirty shit for the SDC than some random terrorists ever could…
"Ahem." Egrer cleared his throat. He needed to buy some time. Once he dragged this out a bit, he'd figure out how to smooth things over. "Well… I guess I should start with the backstory. You see, all through my childhood I—"
"I'm losing my patience, get to the point."
"I'm Roman Torchwick's adoptive son." Egrer squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't see Weiss's face, but judging by the fact that even the sound of her breathing vanished—he could tell she was in shock.
"Actually, you know, I rushed things..." she said a minute later. "Let's start with the backstory."
And he rambled on, telling her about life in the favela, how he met two strangely dressed people and set out to outsmart and rob them. About the one Lien, about the first ice cream in his life, about his first time leaving the kingdom, about how they took him in. The story came out confused and disjointed; Egrer remembered many important details only at the end—like how he took Roman's hat. He didn't know why this seemed like such an important event to him, but he felt an obligation to tell her about it.
Egrer also clarified that he was an adoptive son more nominally than in reality. It was just a joke by his mother that got out of hand. Plus, no custody papers were signed, of course; to the orphanage, he simply went missing.
He also mentioned that Torchwick wasn't actually a racist, but a misanthrope, and that he hated everyone equally. He considered this information important too, just like the story of his explosive escape during their stop in Mistral.
Weiss listened silently; she was too busy trying to digest this flow of information. But when the story ended...
"It's simply mind-boggling!" ...she started pacing back and forth. Her white ponytail whipped around chaotically, failing to keep up with its owner. "I'm close with only two Faunus, but both are tied to criminals by practically blood ties!"
"Were tied," Egrer clarified, but went unnoticed.
"After these revelations, I'm not so sure I was wrong about the Faunus before. Statistically speaking, the chance of meeting a law-abiding Faunus on the street is as low as the chance of it snowing in Vacuo."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. The main thing is that we're in Beacon and~"
"Exactly! You're in Beacon! I can't wrap my head around how the Headmaster could let you in here. Does he have no standards for selecting students at all? He just takes anyone who catches his eye?"
Egrer waved off any attempts to explain things to her. Let her scream it out and cool down first. It was highly unlikely she would actually change her mind about Faunus a second time in a row.
"Don't think that my attitude towards you will change because of this," she traded her anger for mercy. "I mean, change drastically. It's just a shock to me that you still haven't tried to... I don't know, rob me? Beg me for money with teary eyes?"
"Just because I'm from the slums doesn't mean I don't have pride. Besides, I try not to make distinctions between people from different walks of life, and I treat everyone equally."
"Sure you don't," Weiss rolled her eyes. "Then why are you so docile when Pyrrha is around?"
"That's not about social status, it's about power. She could snap my neck with a flick of her wrist and I wouldn't even have time to react. Consider it a personal quirk of mine."
"Well, it seems I'll have to reconsider my views on the poor as well..."
"For truth's sake, I'll admit that your last name did bother me at first. But not in the sense of 'She's crazy rich, I need to ask for money!', but in a more mundane 'Oh, she's the daughter of the Jacques Schnee, because of whom I had a wonderful childhood in the favela with the realization that there are only two roads to the future—crime or the White Fang.'"
"Don't start that again! Every time there's a problem with the Faunus, my father is always to blame. I get enough of that from Blake."
"Well, not every problem, of course... but admit it, he's guilty of a lot."
"Hard to argue with that phrasing," Weiss nodded reluctantly. She understood better than anyone the direction her company was heading. "In any case, thank you for trusting me. It means a lot to me."
"Just, please, don't tell anyone about this."
"Your request insults me. How could you even assume I'd blab about this? I'm not some gossip whose tongue itches to drag someone's name through the mud."
"I still haven't heard a solemn oath from you."
Weiss clicked her tongue loudly.
"I solemnly swear that I will not disclose information about your past prior to Beacon to third parties, except with your permission."
"Wonderful. I'm glad my secret is in safe hands." If you can consider information known to so many people a secret... "In that case, what did you decide about the Faunus?"
"I decided everything for myself a long time ago. Your story merely, let's say, convinced me of the rightness of my final conclusion." Her face hardly changed, but her voice became much deeper. "It doesn't matter to me whether the person in front of me is a human or a Faunus, a former criminal or a former terrorist. You have to judge by criteria that carry significance now or in the foreseeable future. The past is one of these criteria, but if someone wants to atone for the sins of that very past or simply had no other choice, then the importance of this criterion can be slightly reduced."
"I didn't entirely catch your morals and logic, but I think I have nothing to worry about anymore." Egrer scratched the back of his head.
"Were you really that worried I would pull away from you?"
"What do you think? After Blake ran away, Yang and Ruby came to me and declared that you were a racist. Even Madge said you disliked Faunus. And then bam," Egrer poked himself in the chest, "I suddenly remembered I'm a Faunus myself. It was very awkward for me at that moment, and, obviously, scary. You hardly would have believed then that I simply forgot about that fact. You most likely would have thought I just wanted to worm my way into your trust for some nasty schemes."
"Did you really just forget?" He nodded. "Seriously? How can you forget something so important? How can you forget your own race?"
"It's important to you, but it never made a difference to me. Besides, outwardly I don't look any different from a human, so I often forget about such a minor detail."
"It's probably for the best," Weiss said, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "If you had confessed earlier, I doubt I would have even wanted to look at you. And Blake's running away was for the best, too. Without that shake-up, I would have continued to despise Faunus simply for being Faunus."
"What about Ruby? Are you still going to try and take her place?"
"I don't know. She really is trying, and I just can't ignore such determination and diligence. But just give up? I don't think I can throw my hands up when so much time and effort has been killed on this venture. I need to think. Weigh all the pros and cons, so to speak."
"I hope you make the right choice. Either way, all's well that ends well."
"Except everything could have ended even better..."
"What do you mean?"
"About Yang. Or rather, about her stupid joke! They genuinely think we're secretly dating." Weiss pointed a thumb behind her back, clearly hinting at both his pack and Beacon as a whole.
"Yeah, that's the only downside. What should we do?"
"Deny it with all our might. After all... we don't even hold hands. We haven't given them absolutely any reason to think we're in a relationship!"
"Well, except for the ones Yang mentioned yesterday."
"Oh, she just has a dirty mind. So what if someone locks themselves in an empty classroom in the evenings!"
Egrer stalled for a second, processing her words.
"Did you hear yourself? Just don't blurt that out in front of Yang, I'm begging you, then we might as well go hang ourselves... And anyway, if we make a fuss, they'll think we're just embarrassed and won't believe us. Maybe we should just ignore it?"
"It's fine for you, since everyone around considers you the boyfriend of the Weiss Schnee." Egrer raised an eyebrow. "You will never get a more significant bump in reputation." Egrer raised his eyebrow higher.
"The most I'll get is condolences from the male half of Beacon and envy from Jaune. Jaune, you hear me? You think too highly of yourself."
"Maybe you think too low of me? Don't talk like I can't have admirers. That's offensive, by the way."
"Look, if we make excuses, Yang will eat us alive and drag us straight to the altar. Therefore, the best thing we can do is act like adults... and Faunus," Egrer clarified for some reason, "and ignore their whispers. Give it time, they'll calm down and won't even remember they used to ship us."
"Ship us?"
"Shipped us," he corrected. "Ill used the term once. It means picturing a certain couple in a romantic relationship, regardless of logic, common sense, or at the very least, horoscopes."
With that, the conversation ran its course; everything had been said. Weiss wished him a good night and went back to her team's room, after which his pack returned almost immediately. The alpha tried to ignore their sly smiles; that was definitely not a problem worth wasting time on. Right now, he needed to attend to more important matters.
Team Majesty was already slowly getting ready for bed, but Egrer claimed that since he had slept all day, he simply wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. Therefore, he was just going to sit on his Scroll until morning. Illmond grunted approvingly at such a disruption of the body's biorhythms and daily routine, but unlike him, Egrer was going to do something useful. Search the net for any information about the robberies.
Now, armed with new knowledge, he might notice things he hadn't noticed before. He needed to re-read all the news articles and re-watch the news broadcasts; with any luck, something useful would turn up.
That's exactly what he did, only realizing by morning that he was engaging in nonsense. Of course there were no leads; if it were that simple, Ozpin or the police would have caught Her a long time ago. But a lack of results is a result in itself. The conclusion could be drawn that the enemy operates carefully and only through frontmen.
As if that wasn't obvious before...
He just had to accept that Egrer was no super-detective and couldn't, in a matter of hours, crack a criminal scheme that had been developed and maintained for so long. The first large-scale Dust thefts started even before he had enrolled in Beacon.
And since his detective talents hadn't blossomed, he needed outside help. Minimal help; there was no need to drag his friends into this deadly affair for nothing. Only Yort would be able to give Egrer a hint without revealing himself to the enemy in any way.
Approaching him with this request was difficult; Yort always got angry when people sought him out because of his Semblance. He felt like they just wanted to use him. Nevertheless, after classes, Egrer managed to muster up enough audacity and courage.
"Yort," he said quietly, catching his friend on his way to the weightlifting club. Naturally, the Vacuan oracle recognized those notes in his voice. "I need your help."
"I don't answer to you."
"I'm asking you as a friend. I need help." Yort measured him with a long, scrutinizing look.
"Let's go somewhere else. You'll ask your questions there."
The interrogation lasted a whole hour. With every passing minute, the situation became clearer, yet simultaneously more confusing.
It was as if She knew Her plans could be sniffed out this way, and therefore made them as convoluted and complex as possible. Or perhaps everything was much simpler—Egrer knew so little that he couldn't ask a more precise question than "Is it bad, or very bad?"
He didn't even hope to find out exactly where She was hiding the Dust; Yort's Semblance showed roughly equal odds for all parts of the city, as if it was evenly smeared across the asphalt or located somewhere beyond the walls altogether. And he absolutely failed to find out what She needed it for. The options "Terrorist attack," "Arming a private army," and "Selling it" were running neck and neck, as if She considered all three options viable for achieving Her goals.
Some questions received no answers at all, as if there wasn't the slightest element of chance involved, or the questions were asked incorrectly. And the less specific the questions were, the less specific the answers. Some of them hovered around fifty percent, which could literally be interpreted as fifty-fifty. Maybe yes, maybe no. Maybe She'll blow up City Hall, maybe She won't.
But that was impossible. If you want to do something specific, Yort will see it.
Then why did every more or less important target for a terrorist attack have equal percentages? Did She Herself not know yet? Maybe She's just an executor, and someone else is directing Her actions? Yort's Semblance glitches exactly when he tries to predict the actions of people controlled by someone else; Jaune and Pyrrha were a prime example. Or maybe Her plan is pure improvisation?
Unfortunately, these questions also didn't yield any coherent answers. Maybe yes, maybe no.
Egrer knew only one thing for sure—he knew nothing.
"There was a time when I also thought my Semblance was some super-badass shit with limitless possibilities," Yort shared at the end of this pointless interrogation. He wanted to cheer up his friend. "But I haven't fully figured out its limits yet. You didn't think those rules just popped into my head on their own, did you? Like I unlocked my Semblance and instantly got a handbook with a list of its restrictions? Nah, I just realized I couldn't predict everything, and then started figuring out the what and the how."
"Yeah, if I'd known that earlier, I wouldn't have suffered such a terrible disappointment." Egrer tried to smirk, but it didn't come out great. "I kinda expected more."
"Guess when I unlocked my Semblance, I wasn't enough of a total paranoid freak." Yort shrugged. "So the Brother Gods figured that giving me full-blown foresight would be too generous, and limited it to this scrap."
"Now I don't even roughly understand what I should do. I don't even know what my next step should be..."
"Well, the only clear thing is that you ain't pulling this off solo."
"I don't want to drag you into this." Egrer shook his head. "It's one thing to just use your Semblance, but it's another if you start actively participating in this mess. You don't need the extra risk."
"You think I'm afraid of a little risk? I know how to be careful if I need to, I'm no reckless moron. If I was, I wouldn't have survived criminal Vacuo."
"You're exactly a reckless moron, sorry to say. Always picking fights, getting aggressive with everyone you meet. Or am I wrong?"
"Well, overall yeah, but if I have to," Yort put special emphasis on those words, "I can even play the mastermind, even if I only do it a tiny bit better than you. Meaning, almost not at all."
"Thanks." This time Egrer genuinely felt better. Naturally, he wouldn't immediately drag Yort into his mess because of this, but the pleasant feeling of knowing that if push came to shove, he'd have someone to rely on, warmed his soul greatly.
"But actually, I didn't mean me. Risking my neck for nothing, yeah, I don't like that, you caught that right. But you've got the right acquaintances, don't you?"
Only one candidate came to mind.
"Yeah... I do."
After thanking Yort for his help, Egrer set off in search of his future partner. He really could use some outside help, especially if that help was just as invested in this case.
The target was located in the library. Team RWBY, in its entirety, was sitting at a table playing a board game, and not just any board game, but Remnant. This was either the irony of fate or an initiative by Ruby, who had decided to celebrate the team's reunion with the very game that had been the final pebble before the avalanche. A kind of mockery.
"Did you need something?" Weiss asked, turning her attention to the approaching Egrer. "Why are you wearing a gas mask?"
"I'm... here for Blake."
"O-o-oh..." a pleased Yang drew out. "Cheating... in broad daylight... right in front of our beloved Weisscream..."
"Your jokes about our 'relationship' have already gotten old," Weiss complained. "I can't even get mad anymore."
A blatant lie; she was barely holding back from going for her throat. Egrer could clearly see it, no matter how hard Weiss tried to put on an indifferent face.
"Well, so can I steal her from you? For a couple of minutes."
"Let's go," Blake said, putting down her cards. "Keep playing without me."
She looked unwell. Her disheveled hair clearly needed a stiff brush, and the bags under her eyes could have used a healthy dose of sleep to cure them. Not to mention that her usually polished strides and movements were now like they were in slow motion. As if she was afraid of suddenly getting tangled in her own legs and falling to the floor.
Hiding by the far bookshelves, Egrer whispered:
"You still want to find out what the White Fang and Roman are planning, right?" Blake, not understanding what he was getting at, simply nodded. "Excellent, because I want to find out what Roman and the White Fang are planning. We have very similar goals, don't you think?"
"What do you want from me? Get to the point."
"I think we need to join forces. We'll achieve much more this way than on our own, you have to admit."
"Mmm... but why are you so interested in Torchwick?"
"That information I'll prefer to keep to myself. But I agree to tell you everything else in exchange for the same favor on your part."
"You know that I was in the White Fang. Doesn't it seem fair to also tell me what connects you to Torchwick?"
"No. I didn't find out because you confided in me, but because Weiss let it slip, thinking I had already figured it all out myself. In case you forgot."
Blake took a brief pause to think over his offer.
"Fine, I agree. I think we really will both end up winning."
In a perfect world, she should be warned about the danger, and that there were people involved who were much scarier than Torchwick. And he would tell her this, but not so that Blake would change her mind (since, like Egrer, she wouldn't back down for anything), but because this was very important information for their joint cause.
"Cool. And as a sign of my deepest trust in you," Blake easily caught the barely audible irony, "I will introduce you to Yort. I'm sure you'll have a couple of questions for him..."
***
Egrer knew from the start that even Blake wouldn't be able to ask a question that would yield an answer that satisfied them. But he couldn't not at least try. She had been in the White Fang, so she might have known roughly what to ask, but their mutual Enemy managed to outsmart even her. Which was why they didn't need someone who relies on percentages and chance via a Semblance, but rather someone who already knows everything about everyone. And if even he couldn't help them, then all that remained was to wait.
Junior's club greeted Egrer as always—loud annoying music, jerky dancing, and the owner's gloomy glare. Hei recognized his frenemy even with a gas mask on, just by his gait alone.
"Hei, Junior! How are things, how's life?"
Junior didn't reply. He pulled a bottle with practically black liquid from under the counter and poured himself a shot. He drained it all in one gulp.
"I see you're popular here," Blake remarked neutrally, taking a seat at the bar next to him.
"So, you're back," Hei said, resting his hands on the counter. "Honestly, I'm not in the best of moods right now, so you better not waste my time. I won't believe you brought your broad here just to chill."
"You're right about that. And she's not my broad." Junior poured himself another drink, and Egrer realized it was time to get down to business. "I'm here about that deal you offered me through the twins."
"Oh, really now. After a week you finally made a decision. Why didn't you wait another month?"
"Don't whine. Otherwise I'll just up and leave right now, and you'll have to deal with Roman and his patron yourself."
"What patron?" Junior suddenly asked, biting on the word. Egrer smiled.
"Well, how about it? Or does a partnership not suit you? Do you just want to pull everything you need out of me and then screw me over? No way, Hei, it's 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine'. Things aren't done any other way, it's not polite."
"Familiar tone," Junior muttered, clearly recalling Torchwick. "And you're sure you've got useful intel? You're not trying to hustle me yourself?"
"You know I don't know how to lie."
"I'd like to be sure of that. Take off the gas mask." Egrer obediently did as told, simultaneously inching away from Blake. With the most honest expression, he swore to Hei that he genuinely knew something very important, which would undoubtedly be useful for an information broker to know.
"Well?.." Egrer asked toward the end. Fortunately, his allergies hadn't had time to kick into full gear; otherwise, he'd have to wash snot out of the gas mask later. He didn't want to ruin Magenta's gear.
"Grimm take you, fine. Spill everything you know, I'll return the favor. The sooner this bullshit ends, the better for everyone."
So he agreed after all. Not surprisingly, since Hei always kept Vale under his watch, knowing everything about everyone, and now some nobody showed up and started stirring up trouble. Egrer had no doubt that Junior hadn't found out anything yet solely because She wanted it that way.
"So, there's someone behind Roman's actions. All I know is that it's a woman and Roman is afraid of her. She is the exact one who forced Torchwick to team up with the White Fang."
"And the White Fang is under her control too," Blake added. "They would never have agreed to this alliance on their own. I don't know how She convinced the leader of the local cell to take Her side, since he's a massive misanthrope... but I think She is a Faunus, or is pretending to be one."
"Fuck, it's way worse than I thought. We've got a bunch of psycho racist terrorists here," at these words Blake frowned barely noticeably, "a criminal mastermind with a pet psychopath, and their boss who popped up out of nowhere. And who knows who else is stuck under Her heel... Anything else useful?"
"I think Torchwick doesn't like his lot," Egrer shared. "He's clearly acting under duress, and doing it in a way to stir up the police as much as possible. Because in that case, more White Fang members will end up behind bars, and Her plan, whatever it is, runs the risk of failing."
"I figured that much out myself. First Torchwick came for my boys, and if I had known what he was dragging them into, I would've told him to fuck off at the door. None of my guys ever came back."
"Then it's no wonder why She decided to switch to the White Fang," Blake said thoughtfully. "They've never had a shortage of recruits."
"And now it's your turn to share your knowledge with us." Egrer pointed a finger toward Junior.
"What do you need?"
"Everything. Any White Fang movements, news, rumors, absolutely anything related to this case. Then my friend and I will put it together with the knowledge in our heads and tell you exactly what they are planning. With a margin of error, of course, but you're unlikely to come up with anything worthwhile on your own."
Junior reached under the counter, toward his safe. A second later, he thrust an old Scroll with a glass screen into Egrer's hands.
"We only keep in touch through this. And may the Grimm eat you if you lose or break it. I'll strangle you."
"Wait, I don't get it," Egrer said. "Can't you share anything with us right now?"
"Right now, I've got nothing," Hei confessed, shrugging his shoulders. And just as Egrer and Blake were about to pounce on him with accusations of deceit, he raised his hands placatingly. "Today I will dedicate as much manpower to this case as possible. As soon as anything pops up, you'll be the first to know. Before, I underestimated the threat..."
"I thought it was some kind of clown show and a genius plan by Roman too. Well, as for this," Egrer waved the old Scroll in the air, "thanks, I guess, but I already have the necessary firmware on my own Scroll. No need to fear wiretaps or surveillance."
"It makes me feel better," Hei grumbled.
"Alright, catch you later then. Oh, wait, no, one more urgent matter—we finally need to give Her a nickname."
"Squirt, do you have nothing better to do? You go ahead and think about it, I've got work to do. Something big is brewing. Get out of here."
Egrer and Blake got up from the bar counter and retreated.
"So." The moment they stepped out of the club into the fresh air, Egrer dramatically coughed into his gas mask. "Since She needs Dust, maybe we should call Her... Dust? The Dust Baroness? Just The Baroness?"
"The Puppeteer," Blake suggested.
"You know, that fits Her perfectly. It's settled, from now on She is The Puppeteer."