Blake couldn't sleep.

After the fights on the train and the fight in city, she and her exhausted team promptly headed back to their dormitory to get some much needed rest. As soon as they had gotten back, Blake immediately dressed for bed and climbed into her bunk.

Yang hadn't bothered to change her clothes before sprawling out on her bed like she'd just finished a night of binge drinking. Her long blonde hair was a mess, one boot was hanging haphazardly off the side of her bunk and she was softly snoring. Wiess had been as meticulous as usual with her nightly routine. She decided last minute that she wanted to study, but passed out before she'd even opened her book. Ruby showered, threw on pajamas and curled up on her bunk falling fast asleep without a care in the world.

But Blake...not so much. She still had a lot of questions and despite her optimistic feelings after the battle, her mind was still uneasy.

After laying awake for another hour or so, her mind's restlessness won out. She quietly dressed and made a stealthy exit through the window. She wasn't sure where she was going, she just needed to clear her head. The cool night air was calming, but she was even more awake now.

Blake began wandering around roof tops, trying not to be seen. After what happened that day, the military felt the need to force a curfew on Beacon Academy and the students visiting for the Vital Festival. She knew they were concerned for everyone's safety, but it didn't seem like keeping people indoors after dark would really make much difference. She and her team had done more to stop whatever plot was thickening than the military had, and a curfew wouldn't stop them from trying again if needed. If a group of students could find out more information than the military...maybe they were compromised? Or, maybe she was just being negative and paranoid. She sighed. I really am too serious, she thought, Son is right.

She found herself drawn towards the military's base of operations where they were keeping all the prisoners captured today - the few who had survived, anyway. The guards were pretty spread out and there were several open windows. If she could break in, maybe she could get some answers from one of them.

Blake sighed again. That was a stupid idea and she knew it. There would be cameras, there would be too many guards and the prisoners wouldn't exactly be happy to see her. She had already seen their loyalty to whatever cause they had - they wouldn't be volunteering any information, especially not to a White Fang deserter who had helped put them there. Still, for almost an hour she stayed perched on a rooftop, just watching and studying, contemplating ways to breach the prison's defenses.

Something caught her eye. One of the guards was missing.

Four guards had been making rounds like clockwork with a very easy, predictable routine, but one was definitely gone. The guards' pattern was set so that each would see the next before they rounded the building. The guard ahead turned and saw that no one else was there, but collapsed before having time to make a sound. Blake ducked further down behind the roof's ledge as she watched a shadowy figure dispatch the two other guards who had been alternately manning this section. A moment later, one of the building's doors opened.

She cursed inwardly as she saw Roman Torchwick's trademark white coat. Her initial thought was that he was being broken out of jail, but she raised an eyebrow in confusion as she realized he was being dragged out by two men and he looked unconscious. The two men holding him handed his cane and hat to the first man she had seen. They all nodded to each other, then snuck away. She followed suit, assuming they were heading for some form of transport. She wasn't about to let them out of her sight.

She snuck from roof to roof following them until they got to East edge of the city. She was shocked that they had gone the whole way on foot, especially while carrying someone's dead weight between two of them. It seemed a little too easy of an escape. There were still no alarms signaled from the prison and the police on night patrol seemed to always be a street away. Either this had been planned very, very well or these people had pulled some strings. Given the type of people Torchwick associated with, she wasn't sure which was true.

After he was caught, Torchwick put his hands up and complied fairly well with everything but giving up information, so it only made sense that he knew he wouldn't be imprisoned for long. From what Blake and her team were told, he would be very well guarded because of that, although she doubted anyone expected his stay to be quite this short. What made the least sense was that he had been dragged out and that he wasn't currently aware that he was being rescued, assuming that's what was happening. He had probably made so many enemies it wouldn't be a stretch to think that people other than just the military would be out to get him. Still, to go to these lengths would mean he had made some very bitter enemies who would prefer facing the military to his current employer.

Frustrated, Blake furrowed her eyebrows, still keeping a sharp eye on her targets. Always more questions, she complained to herself. She wanted some answers for once - even a few would suffice.

The group slowed as they hit the edge of the forest on the outskirts of Eastern Vale. They didn't stop moving, but they were talking in hushed voices now and seemed to be hesitating before entering. They were all looking back as if waiting on some sort of signal.

Sirens. The prison alarm had finally gone off.

Blake climbed down from the her last rooftop perch and hugged the shadows of the impending tree line and the last few buildings that butted up against it. She needed to get closer, she needed to know what was going on. She had enough advantage to feel confident in creeping closer than was probably necessary. She noticed while pursing them that the group was made up of all humans. Their hearing and eyesight weren't as sharp as hers. After having such an easy time getting here, she also assumed they didn't expect to have been followed.

The trio and Torchwick came to a halt just inside the forest's treeline and pulled out flashlights. The faces of all three men were completely covered with some sort of sheer fabric to obscure their features. Their posture now that they weren't sneaking around was rigid, making Blake think they might be or might have been in the military. The man carrying Torchwick's weapon and hat pulled out some sort of communication device and said something about it to the others.

They were starting to speak less quietly so Blake was finally able to make out a few words. One of the men carrying Torchwick said something about wanting to take a break. The other seemed to agree. The third man nodded to them, as if granting permission. They abruptly dropped the limp body and started stretching their shoulders.

This was definitely not a rescue. Torchwick had hit the ground hard, landing with his face towards her. In the limited light, she could tell that his eye was bruised and nose was bleeding. How had she not noticed before? His stark white coat, now probably stained with grass and dirt, hadn't given any indication. The jolt of his fall didn't elicit any kind of reaction and for a moment, Blake thought he was dead. Apparently she wasn't the only one.

"Check his pulse," said the first man audibly, apparently no longer deeming it necessary to whisper.

The man who had asked to take a break bent down. He was a little too close to Blake for comfort, but at least he was blocking her from the glare of the flashlights. She crept a little further back while the other men watched him put his fingers to Torchwick's neck.

"He's still alive," the man said as he stood back up, "I didn't rough him up that bad."

"Not as bad as the General will, I'm sure." Said the third man, still stretching.

"Yeah, but he'll need to be in good enough condition to live through whatever the General wants to do to him before we hand the sick bastard over to the animals. They get to finish him off. That was the agreement and our orders are to follow it. Be a little more careful for f-"

The first man paused and looked down. The little light on his device had flashed three times.

"The General is on his way, let's move."

The two men lifted Torchwick's body up again, none too gently and followed the first man deeper into the forest. Blake crept along quietly after them still trying to figure out the situation. Were they referring to General Ironwood? Would he be willing to take interrogation to a level outside the law? And who did they mean by 'animals'? Torchwick had been working with the White Fang and she wasn't aware of any other groups of Faunus extremists, at least none who were still around. Maybe the White Fang had finally decided to get rid of him, but needed to do it without his employer knowing?

Just who the hell was he working for?

Blake tried not to let all of her thoughts distract her from keeping pace. She knew she would get some answers if she was patient and kept quiet.

After almost an hour, the men stopped in a small clearing. The two men holding Torchwick dropped him with no regard again, earning them a disapproving sigh from the first man, who seemed to be the leader of the group. The two men stretched again and sat down by a tree. It seemed like they were settling in for a long wait. The first man tossed Torchwick's hat and cane to them and started pacing, eyes fixated on his little device. He seemed restless, but she couldn't tell if it was anxiety or anticipation. The other two men seemed more relaxed. One clicked off his flashlight and decided to use Torchwick's hat as a makeshift pillow, leaning his head back against the tree to take a nap. The other man tossed the cane aside and watched the first man pace, occasionally glancing at the unconscious body lying on the ground a few feet away.

Blake creeped fairly close to where Torchwick was lying. She could see that his breathing was labored and shallow. They really had roughed him up. In spite of her better judgment, she felt a tinge of pity for him. She immediately repressed the sensation, remembering everything he had done. His criminal record was outrageous, he had tried to kill her and her friends on more than one occasion, and on top of that, the smug prick seemed to enjoy taunting her.

What if these people are more dangerous than he is, she wondered?

It struck Blake that she should have notified her team and probably the authorities. She had broken her promise and wandered off on her own again. She doubted any of them would wake up for several more hours, but on the off chance… she quickly and quietly reached into her pocket to make sure her scroll was silenced. It was too late to contact them now without its light being seen and if they noticed she was gone and called she would definitely be caught.

Another twenty minutes had gone by before Torchwick started to stir. The man who had been watching him stood up and walked towards him. Torchwick made a pained sort of sigh as he started to regain consciousness. The man hovered over him a minute before using his foot to not so gently roll him onto his back.

"Ah, you're awake." the man said in mock concern.

"What a shame," said Torchwick. His voice was strained, but he still managed to mirror the man's tone, "I was having such a lovely dream."

Without warning, the man kicked him hard in the side. The man who had been sleeping was startled awake by Torchwick's gasp of pain.

"What did I tell you," the first man started, but the lights on his device had started to flash again.

They were definitely military, Blake thought as all three men stood at attention and waited.

The man who kicked Torchwick glanced at him to make sure he wasn't going anywhere - he definitely wasn't.

The General, Blake assumed, was close.

A few moments later, light from another flashlight came bouncing towards them and a fifth man entered the clearing. He wasn't wearing black or wearing a mask like the others. The white uniform was as recognizable as Torchwick's jacket. It was definitely General Ironwood.

"At ease, men," he said, "and good work. Everything went as planned."

He turned his attention to Torchwick who was still doubled over in pain.

"I trust he's still fit for punishment?"

Punishment, she wondered?

"Yes, sir." Said the first man. Blake heard a tinge of uncertainty in his voice, but the General didn't seem to notice. His glare hadn't left Torchwick.

"Well, then..." he said, handing his flashlight to the first man and clapping his hands together, "Let's get started."

Blake didn't like the look in the General's eyes or the haughty smirk on his face. He almost looked...sadistic. Already, this didn't feel like an informal interrogation and Torchwick's trial and sentencing would undoubtedly land him with a few life sentences - if not worse - ruling out some sort of vigilante justice scenario. Something is wrong, she told herself. Whatever is happening, it is definitely wrong.

Ironwood strode towards Torchwick and knelt down by his face.

"You know, had you cooperated more today, you might have at least delayed this."

Torchwick looked up at him and smiled, "And I thought you were just eager to have me all to yourself."

"Well, it has been a long time since we got to chat candidly like this." Ironwood said, taking a step back. She really didn't like that look.

He pulled a flask out of his jacket and tilted it back as he watched the battered criminal try to stand. Torchwick's smile faltered slightly as started trying to pick himself up.

Before he was able to right himself, the General nodded to the masked men. The two who had been carrying him before came and helped him to his feet...in a manner of speaking. Torchwick didn't resist. He seemed fully aware of his predicament, but kept smiling and as they dragged him to the middle of the clearing.

This isn't right.

The first man's flashlight was aimed at him like a spotlight. She had to duck to the left a bit to avoid the light of one of the men holding him - she made a mental note that there were only two left on.

From her vantage point, she could see Torchwick's battered but smiling face clearly.

This isn't right, Blake repeated inwardly. As much as she hated Roman Torchwick, something about this situation was making her extremely uncomfortable.

The General tucked his flask back into his jacket and slowly walked towards them. Without warning or hesitation, he punched Torchwick hard in the stomach. He gasped and coughed as the air left his lungs. Ironwood gave him a moment to catch his breath and then hit him again, this time harder. Then again...and again...and again. Blake flinched each time.

Why isn't his aura protecting him?

"Maybe you were right, Roman," he said, grabbing a handful of orange hair and lifting Torchwick's head so they were face to face, "I think I was a little eager to do this."

He let go and Torchwick's head dropped.

"Take off his jacket," Ironwood ordered, walking away a few steps and pulling out his flask again.

Torchwick lifted his head weakly. Despite his difficulty breathing, he seemed determined to speak.

"What? You don't like it, General?" His words were strained, but defiant. "You know, I happen to enjoy the irony of a villain in white, just as much as you do."

Ironwood promptly spun on his heel, flask still in hand and punched Torchwick square in the mouth. The sound made Blake cringe.

Torchwick spat blood in the grass and lifted his head again with even more difficulty this time.

"It's not like you to pull your punches, General. I still have all my teeth." Torchwick smiled, opening the large split the punch had opened on lower his lip. Drops of red were now dripping from his chin. "If you're going to remove my coat," he asked the man to his right, "could you please do it before getting any more of my blood on it?"

Ironwood tossed his flask down and hit Torchwick full force in the chest. Apparently, he was tired of being antagonized. There was no snarky comeback this time. Blake doubted Torchwick was going to remain conscious much longer.

This was getting harder and harder to watch. Blake wasn't sure what do. She had daydreamed about beating Torchwick senseless after everything that he had done, but now that she was watching it actually happen...she felt sick.

The General seemed satisfied at having finally shut Torchwick up. He glanced around for his flask, but gave it minimal effort. He reached into his jacket again. Does he seriously have more than one flask? She wondered, but he pulled out something else metallic. Blake saw the glint of a blade.

I don't like where this is going.

She knew she could just sneak away now. She didn't have to watch this. She could sneak back home and rest easy knowing that Roman Torchwick no longer be a threat, but Ironwood's behavior was scaring her. He was enjoying himself. He wasn't asking questions, he wasn't listing crimes to be atoned for. He spoke as if they knew each other, as if something like this had happened before. There really was something else going on. If I leave now, she told herself, I won't get answers.

Removing Torchwick's gloves and jacket took several minutes since his body was almost completely limp. He didn't (and probably couldn't) put up a fight, but the two men needed both of their hands to complete the task, so the man holding the second flashlight decided to discard it.

Torchwick's gloves and the belts that held them were thrown in pile. His jacket was handed to the first man who tossed it on the ground close to where Blake was hiding. As it fell, she ducked closer to the tree where the two other men had been sitting. She noticed that she was now within arm's reach of Torchwick's cane.

"He can't stand anymore, so just let him kneel," Ironwood said.

With little effort, as Torchwick seemed no longer able to stand without support, they dropped him down to his knees. Ironwood toyed with his knife for a moment, then looked towards them.

"What, nothing to say for once?" he taunted, "I'm disappointed. After, what has it been...six years...you don't have something extra witty planned?"

Torchwick only coughed, spattering blood on the ground in front of him.

When he still didn't get a reply, Ironwood continued, "You know, for a while I thought you had decided to forgive and forget."

Torchwick cleared his throat, spitting out more blood in the process. Ironwood walked up and bent down in front of him.

"Well?"

"What," he choked out, "is there...to say?"

Ironwood grabbed Torchwick's hair again. Blake cringed at the sight of his bruised and blood soaked face now illuminated by the remaining flashlight.

"You disgust me." Ironwood said bitterly, "You deserve this and soon I will be able to get rid of everyone like you."

The maliciousness in his voice didn't seem to have nearly the effect on Torchwick as it did on Blake. He actually started laughing. It was intermittent with coughs and gasps, but he was laughing.

"I've had about enough of your mockery," Ironwood said. He knelt down, grabbed Torchwick's shirt front and used the knife he was holding to cut it open.

"Oh, General...I didn't forgive...or forget-" Torchwick said, "and it doesn't...matter what you...do...or what they do now." He was still coughing and laughing, trying not to choke as he continued, "Too many…plans...are already in motion...to take out...people...like...you...and people like...them"

His laughter stopped abruptly and he cried out in pain. Blake gasped and quickly covered her mouth. If Torchwick hadn't been so loud, she definitely would have been heard. Ironwood was hunched down with his back to her, so she wasn't sure exactly what was going on. She imagined him slowly pushing a knife into Torchwick's chest just to hear him scream. She couldn't handle this anymore. She had to do something. This is wrong.

Then she heard it, a word she had only heard a few times. It was one of the worst slurs she knew of and one that wasn't used lightly. Both Human and Faunus extremists used it when they felt their race was being 'polluted.' And Ironwood had said it...to Torchwick?

"I may not get to kill you, Roman, but I got to kill her. And I WILL finish carving this into you, you disgraceful little shit."

Did he just say CARVING? Blake was horrified.

One of the masked men ripped Torchwick's ascot off and used it to muffle his screams.

"You got lucky back then, but instead of keeping your head down, you chose to openly mock me even after your reputation was ruined and you had nothing left. You won't be so lucky this time." He laughed, "No one gives a damn about you."

Blake was done sitting idly by. She picked up Torchwick's cane and aimed it in the air, while aiming her own gun at the last flashlight.

She fired.