Unfinished work

For Cinder's birthday, Neo hadn't brought her a gift. By a pre-arranged non-verbal arrangement, and with Neo it wouldn't have worked otherwise, the two children had told each other that they won't be giving each other gifts. So instead of a gift, Neo simply patted Cinder on the shoulder, sending her well-wishes that way. A simple gesture, but very sincere in its intent.

Yes, by translating her facial expressions, movements and attitude, Cinder could tell Neo was saying something like 'good luck out there and stuff'. It was nothing much, but it was a sincere gesture, and that was the most important thing!

Well, that's what Jonathan said… or something like that. Anyway, not the point.

What was more significant to talk about was that this Monday had been one of the most enjoyable Mondays of the past year. Because, two days after the relatively unfortunate short visit to Kuroyuri, an event happened that was far more far-reaching and critical for Neo.

No, not Cinder's birthday, although the event did involve Cinder's birthday in a way.

Neo was allowed to skip school! By Jonathan! Officially!

Or more accurately, Neo and Cinder were excused from school for one day to celebrate their birthday. Which, in Neo's mind, was less critical than the free school day.

Instead of sitting in school, although judging by the clock that Neo swiped her gaze at, she should have already gone home, she was sitting in a fancy restaurant! Eating as much ice cream as she wanted and no one could judge her for it! After all, it was a celebration!

'Oh, how much ice cream have I missed out on in my life,' Neo sighed blissfully, scooping up another bite of ice cream with her spoon.

Though, of course, Neo preferred to think of her past life, before Jonathan had adopted her, precisely as her 'past' life. A thing that definitely happened, but something which Neo herself was no longer connected to.

Her clothes were different, her appearance had changed, and the ice cream she was eating was more delicious. She was even sitting in a rich restaurant surrounded by powerful and influential people… That just happens to be their friends and acquaintances.

I mean, not to discount Cinder's influence or anything, she's very influential for her age, and was absolutely an important person. Just look at the people seated at the same table as her! Aisa, Jonathan, even the Belladonna family couple were all influential. It just happens that they're all family friends.

Anyway, they all served, in a way, to starkly distinguish Neo's current life from her past life.

And Neo liked that. The fact that she was living a new life.

And so, the fact that something, a very subtle thing, reminded her of that past life, irked her.

Nora Valkyrie.

Sitting in the furthest corner of the table, almost as if she was hiding herself, Nora looked and felt distinctly out of place sitting around powerful and influential people. Even if she put on a pretty pink dress and washed the grime off her body, with her whole appearance and demeanor she showed how much she was not suited to the place.

Nora, who coincidentally was the same age as Blake, the small daughter of the Belladonna couple, was being bombarded with questions by the young Faunus. Blake, either by instinct or something else, didn't miss the fact that Nora was uncomfortable for some reason and so tried to make small talk with her. To which Nora, unused to many things, from the expensive furnishings around her to the faunus, answered in rather terse one-word answers.

But Blake didn't give up, which earned her a little respect from Neo.

No, not her ability to not give up. If she were in Nora's position, she would probably even resent such a tactless and intrusive attempt at dialogue. No, Blake deserved Neo's respect for not trying to pester Neo herself, but for choosing to pounce on Nora instead, at the same time, taking Nora herself out of Neo's field of vision.

I mean, of course Neo didn't feel any hatred towards Nora, it would be very strange and even ridiculous for a grown up eleven-year-old girl like herself to be angry with a five-year-old. It was just that her presence was slightly… spoiling Neo's mood. She was reminding her of her past life.

I mean, of course, in her mind, Neo understood that her past life wasn't exactly a unique set of circumstances. In a world like Remnant, there were many others just like her, perhaps even those who had suffered worse. Cinder had never told her specifically what exactly had happened to her before Jonathan had adopted her. Not that she has a need to know anyway, Neo rather preferred to think of such things as being somewhere out there and left in the past, and therefore not intersecting with her current life in any way.

Nora? She existed as living proof that such things were closer than Neo would have liked.

It was… a somewhat unpleasant feeling. Like a low constant buzzing behind Neo's ears, In fact, she would have preferred Cinder not to bring Nora anywhere she can see her at all. But, as luck would have it, that wasn't feasible at the moment, so Neo could only resign herself, and respect Blake for pushing Nora into another corner where she doesn't have to see her all that much.

Okay, time for happy thoughts now! These were pesky thoughts that Neo shouldn't have succumbed to in the first place. It was such a happy occasion! She was eating ice cream and skipping school, what could be better than that?

Perhaps all of that while not having Nora around?

But, since that was not possible, all that was left to do was to do her best to ignore her, and to keep devouring the ice cream.

So, deep in her ice cream fugue, Neo tried her best to keep her eye from wandering to Nora and Blake's corner, instead concentrating on Jonathan and the adults sitting next to him.

Huh, Jonathan had been walking around like there was something on his mind, making him frown all the time… Well, he kept having a conversation about something?

Hah, Cinder regularly attended Jonathan's meetings with all sorts of personalities, but Neo herself did not! And so, she didn't really understand what Jonathan was talking about. And this despite the fact that it was Neo who had the lowest chance of blabbing something. Unfair!

On the other hand, Neo was also well aware of the fact that Jonathan and Aisa's conversations were generally not something interesting. Cinder sought to present in such talks solely because she had gotten it into her head to know about everything going on in the city, and about all the political moves inside and outside the state. Something that Neo herself did not care about at all.

She didn't plan on or want to become any kind of official in the future.

So strictly speaking, she didn't need to attend such meetings or even understand what they were talking about. What was she going to do with the information anyway? What would she gain by knowing about that? Understanding it even?

Nothing. And so, after just looking around a bit at the adults chatting, and Cinder didn't have many friends, so inviting children to her birthday party wasn't necessary, Neo just shrugged. And sent another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

At least it was tasty.

Jonathan chewed his food, surely something high quality and very tasty, not feeling the taste of the food at all, deep in his own thoughts.

Kuroyuri had been destroyed.

A small settlement without a single Hunter had been destroyed in another freak Grimm attack. It was a story that could be found anywhere and told countless times in this world. Entire settlements, full of people, oftentimes just disappeared. A story that had happened hundreds and thousands of times before and would happen again and again in the future…

But then why did it feel like it was my fault?

Jonathan returned after just one day, after just one day in Kuroyuri, wishing to find out a little more about Nora and her relatives. Maybe Kuroyuri had kept some records? A five-year-old could hardly live to that age on the streets.

Well, until their first winter, at least.

But once he was in Kuroyuri… But still, sometimes when I close my eyes, it seems to me that I am capable of the art…

It's like that when I close my eyes, I was standing there again. In hell.

Jonathan blinked.

Kuroyuri was destroyed. Nothing but ashes and graves.

A few small groups of Grimm running here and there. All strewn throughout were corpses. Ruins.

People torn apart by Grimm, but I don't hear it. The soldiers are shooting — but I do not see the volley of lead and fire, of the flickering figures of defiance fighting to the last.

In the ruined city, there was no one and nothing.

Jonathan tried to find survivors, knowing that it was an idea doomed to fail. Even if some people did survive the attack, those who could escape already did. Those who couldn't…

But I hear, see, feel something different, every time I return here, like the first time I did.

There were no survivors, there were only corpses, and Grimm. Scattered around the ruins were scattered belongings. All that was left were the ruins of houses, smoking from the fire, or perhaps even from arson…

It's as if the hand of time is shifting over and over again, relentlessly counting down the seconds.

Could Jonathan have helped anyone in this situation?

Come on, Jonathan. Haven't you taken a part-time job as the savior of the world?

Jonathan tried to push the thought away again and smile at Ghira.

What should I do?

He didn't tell Nora or Cinder about it, of course. It was Cinder's birthday today, she didn't need this information. Not today, not… ever?

What to say?

The Grimm is close by. People, cities, countries - they all disappear, time after time, hour after hour. Even if you saved them? If you'd held on a little longer? What then?

Whom to save?

You beat back one Grimm attack - but that won't protect them from an attack tomorrow, or a week from now, a year from now…

How to save them?

You are a King, Jonathan. You don't have to run around personally solving the problems of the world anymore, do you?

Taking another bite out of… something, Jonathan's eyes were lost to the memory of destruction, to what was left of Kuroyuri.

If I hadn't intervened… If I hadn't been here… Would that have been the fate of Glenn?

No, Jonathan, of course not. It would have been much worse.

Kuroyuri was just a small settlement with a population of a thousand people at most. Mountain Glenn on the other hand, in the period before the fall, was a megalopolis that would have been considered large even back on Earth. Three million people had lived in Mountain Glenn back then.

That is to say, it would have been three thousand times worse.

Ghira laughed as he told some joke, causing Aisa to jump with laughter and Kali to poke him in the side with a frown on her face.

Still, there was a niggling thought among those memories.

Why did it happen?

How could an entire settlement just… disappear? In one day? In one evening? Just a few hours? Why?

Kuroyuri was not a nest of vice and corruption like Glenn, led by men like Bor. There wasn't Merlot's illegal experiments, there wasn't an attempted coup. It was just… a small village. As far as he knows, just a regular village, one can be found anywhere by throwing a dart at the map.

How could it disappear? Just disappear, just like that?

It was just because… they were weak.

Jonathan froze.

In the end, it all comes down to the law of the strong, doesn't it? The state is simply stronger than the man, and the beast is stronger than even that. They were just weak, and that's why they died. Nothing complicated.

Jonathan slowly shifted his gaze downwards, his hands shaking.

Just because they were weak doesn't mean they had to die!

No one is saying that they had to die, Jonathan. Only that it was the most logical outcome.

Grimm are stronger than ordinary humans, that's why there are guns and Hunters. Man had developed methods of dealing with the Grimm. For some reason, Kuroyuri has abandoned these fighting methods. Do you remember seeing any automatic turrets around the village? Hunters? Any defensive structure at all? No? Because there weren't any, Jonathan. They only reaped what they sowed.

Jonathan… couldn't speak against that thought, he couldn't say anything to disprove it.

Weakness is not bad in itself, it is no excuse for the strong to bully the weak. But, weakness? It is the reason such things can happen.

Even if you had saved them? What next? Settle down in that village and fend off the Grimm for all time? Jonathan, they were dead the moment they couldn't find a way to defend themselves against the Grimm on their own. Pacifism? Lack of money? Belief in a miracle? No matter the reason, they could not acquire weapons or ways to defend themselves. Why did they not hire hunters to protect them? Why did you see not one weapon in the ruins? The settlement was doomed long before it was destroyed.

Jonathan can't help but clench his hands.

But for so many to die?

You can save one settlement, a second, a third, but you will not be able to save a thousand more, simply because it is impossible. What do you want, Jonathan?

A world safe for everyone? A perfect world where the wolf and the hare hug when they meet?

Jonathan, the ambition to save everyone, is noble, but unrealistic. Today or tomorrow, by knife or by disease, someone will die.

But to not even try to save one!?

Didn't you agree to that? Not to give Cinder to Ozpin? Refused to take part in the fight against Salem? So why does one village bother you, Jonathan? You didn't know its inhabitants, you didn't see its destruction, then why?

The world is a cruel and dark place, with terrible tragedies happening all the time.

But here you sit, at Cinder's feast, making her look at you with concern, continuing to lament that the world is not as rosy and fabulous as you wanted it to be.

One-off acts of generosity will bring you popularity, Jonathan, but it will not rid the world of poverty, war, and disease. Make up your mind, Jonathan.

But…

You can go on crying endlessly about the fate of one more child, one more person, but stop being a hypocrite, at least to yourself. If you care about the fate of humanity and the world, accept the price you have to pay to make things better for everyone. If you just want to live in peace, stop weeping over every tragedy in the world. You are not a good person, Jonathan. You're just undecided.

Oh, and good morning, Jonathan.

And with those words, Jonathan's inner voice fell silent, leaving a tasteless meal in his tongue and a lump of bitterness lodged in his throat.

Marcus Black was celebrated among his colleagues, fellow assassins, as much as it was possible for his profession anyway.

Understandably, he couldn't put up a big billboard in the center of the settlement, Marcus Black, sparing you the trouble of life! But Marcus Black was well known, enough anyway, to those interested in his line of work.

There was little personal information about Marcus, as those in his line of work are supposed to be. No one knows his face, his real name, not even information about the fact that he had a son, or with whom or where he lived at the moment.

Of course, you couldn't exactly call him a ghost without a face, can't get contracts that way, no? Still, someone who really wanted to find information about him and was willing to use their resources and influence, could find enough information about him to offer him a contract. But overall, Marcus Black remained a mystery to the ordinary people, and even some that are less ordinary.

The only thing people knew reliably about Marcus Black was that he was the best at what he did. The fact that he was thirty-eight and still in this line of work, only confirmed such a deduction.

Which is why if anyone were looking at the slovenly drunkard in the corner of the bar, reeking of sweat and alcohol, no one would even think that this particular scum of society was one of Remnant's most notorious assassins.

One could say that this was some weapon in the arsenal of Marcus himself. The way he looked and acted, something that was completely out of place in the mind of the casual observer, the image of a professional killer. That it was a clever disguise invented by Marcus himself, and he exploited it for a disguise.

But that would only be partly true.

That is, of course, his appearance, and behavior did serve as a disguise of sorts, but it was not a cunning mask designed by Marcus to always remain above suspicion. No. Marcus Black was actually indeed a drunkard and a slob. A man who valued neither things, money, nor people. And who indeed was a person that acted like an alcoholic who had just arrived at the nearest pub and had barely saved for the strongest drink on the menu.

He wasn't always like that, of course. Once, in the past, he had been exactly the kind of professional that people think of when they hear the words 'professional killer'. He was once the focused and sullen assassin, inconspicuous in any crowd, never taking a drop of alcohol, never taking his eyes off his victim, relentlessly pursuing his victim in all circumstances. The kind of person that a person would imagine a professional assassin would be.

But those days are long gone. Marcus Black has changed, long fallen prey to his vices and predilections.

The reason for that change lay in Marcus Black's semblance… Or not quite his semblance.

In any case, Marcus Black, after sitting in the corner of the bar for a fair amount of time, still waved languidly towards the waitress. A faunus? Ha, how cute. Tossing a few liens to pay for his drink, he began staggering out of the building, first bumping the door with his shoulder, causing it to swing open before tumbling out into the street, staggering off to the nearest alleyway.

Ha, if he'd still been living in Mistral, that sort of thing would obviously have ended with a few scowling but relatively formidable-looking guys trying to jam him into the alley. And therefore a few dead bodies in that alley. But it seems that the crime situation in Glenn was much better, and so no one followed Marcus into the alley.

True, the situation in Glenn was made much more complicated by the same lack of crime. If Marcus had tried to sneak into Glenn legally, the lack of active crime scene, would have seen him arrested at the border, as his papers are forged. But in general, having to try harder to do his job, and not having to deal with drunkards lacking a few preservation instincts, simply equaled each other.

In any case, having made his way to the nearest darkest nook where neither the street outside could be seen, nor the passers-by themselves could detect Marcus, he used his semblance, already his own. Three semblances of his own already.

First, Marcus felt his body become weightless. Then, after blinking his eyes and looking at his hand closely, he found that it had become virtually see-through. Then, to try it out, Marcus put his hand against the nearest wall and pressed down on it hard. He felt resistance for a few seconds before his hand, as if it had gone through a stiff jelly and not bare concrete, passed through. Wiggling his hands, twisting it side to side, he nodded, satisfied that his Semblance worked, pulled it back out.

Aы he pulled out his hand, he found that his clothes had actually fallen off of his transparent body. Shrugging at his nakedness, it was expected after all, he crouched down, and leaped upwards, easily crossing a dozen meters. At the end of his leap, he was up on the roof of a low building… okay, he almost fell, but that was just the alcohol, not that he lacks control over his Semblances.

That's right Semblances. Multiple semblances. Marcus Black had four semblances.

And no, he wasn't a unique person born with four souls resting inside him. At least not since birth. Marcus Black originally had only one semblance. A useless one in his past job as a Hunter, but extremely useful in his current field.

He could steal other people's semblances.

That was Marcus Black's greatest trick and the reason why, despite his lackadaisical demeanor and relaxed ways, he was still one of the best assassin money could buy.

He simply had too many trump cards.

During his lifetime, Marcus Black had received three semblances, something which helped him tremendously in his life. He has a Semblance to become invisible, he has one that made him incorporeal, and lastly, one that can make him levitate. In other words, with all these cards in hand, he didn't need any professionalism, he already had all the winning cards he needed.

The perfect assassin, invisible, intangible, and capable of flight. Of course, it wasn't exactly foolproof, but his trump cards were not to be underestimated either. Though he could only use his semblance to gain fainter versions of other people's semblances, it was enough to do his job.

For example, when he became intangible? He became intangible to everything. Everything, including weapons and his clothes, and only very dense objects wouldn't be affected, such as the ground beneath his feet or the walls of houses. Also, doing so causes a constant drain on his Aura reserves. Which was of little importance, since Marcus could just let any blow that threatened him to pass through him.

Evelyn, the person he had acquired the Semblance from, could partially materialize parts of her body, keeping the rest intangible. She can even continue to use her Aura in such a state. An ability which suited her much better as a super trump card. But it still didn't save her from the Grimm…

As for his invisibility, for the original Hunter, that guy could make both his clothes and weapons invisible while in direct contact with him. Marcus on the other hand could only make his body invisible… which kinda makes it convenient that he's not wearing any, right?

Likewise for levitation. Marcus Jr. initially had little or no Aura to waste on it, but was as agile in the air as he was on the ground. While Marcus Senior had, at best, the awkward task of flying at the speed of a running civilian, which dried up his energy as well as any other semblances. But even that was enough for Marcus' job.

In fact, Marcus could use his semblances to become basically the perfect scout. An invisible, intangible flying Hunter, able to peek safely behind any door, locate all secret rooms and passages, get past any guards, and pass almost any security measures. Well, infrared sensors or noise sensors, for example, could still pick him up, but well that's where his training comes in. All in all, in almost all circumstances, his abilities allowed him to come and go with all the information he needed as he pleased.

An assassination where his target is in a locked room was the easiest, especially if that was their safe room. He could just materialize behind them, wring his neck and disappear again, leaving no trace, except the corpse itself.

Which is why Marcus Black was considered the best at killing.

And so, having climbed the tall building, Marcus concentrated on his positioning. Then, with quick leaps, using levitation sparingly to muffle the sounds of his ascent and landing, he rushed to the spot where his target, Jonathan Goodman, was right now.

No, of course he wasn't planning to kill him right now, if he wanted not only to kill Jonathan, but to survive afterwards, he required a plan.

And the best place for Marcus to start working out that plan was after he had looked at the target of his murder… Without any unnecessary witnesses, that is.

Cinder did not feel very comfortable at her birthday party.

First of all, she didn't care about the food being served at the moment. She could easily afford to, thanks to Jonathan's patronage, eat such dishes every day if she wanted to. Thus, the food was not something that made her feel special at all,

Secondly, it was not like she felt like celebrating the fact that she had lived another year. For that matter, she would have actually preferred to celebrate the eighth of August. The date was something that was more associated with warm feelings and celebrations for her, the day she met Jonathan. Or maybe the thirteenth of August, the anniversary of her escape from the hotel. And, he was in a more honest mood, the anniversary of the hotel burning itself to the ground. Something that she always wanted to do herself.

But the third, and most important reason as to why Cinder can't really feel the celebratory mood was the frowning, brooding and saddened Jonathan.

Cinder had seen Jonathan act in such a way several times in the time she had lived with him. And each time, observing such a thing literally tore at Cinder's soul… And each time, such an occasion was associated with something incredibly unpleasant for Jonathan.

Another crisis looming over the people, or perhaps some personal dilemma. And in Cinder's mind, the latter was more important than the former.

Cinder didn't like that kind of expression on Jonathan's face. It usually took a long time for his sad mood to brighten, and served as a sign that something unpleasant was going on with Jonathan. Cinder wished she could erase that emotion from Jonathan's face once and for all, and erase whatever it is that is causing that from this world, but Cinder couldn't do that.

Not because she lacked the courage to do such an act or anything, no. Because Jonathan insisted on it. As he said, not to blame my problems on you.

But that was the biggest issue! If Cinder saw how sad he was, but didn't even know the reason for it, and she couldn't help in any way, it's so vexing! No, even just the realization, not even that she couldn't help, no, the realization that maybe she could have helped in some way, but couldn't at the same time, was driving Cinder crazy.

A moment later, Cinder's hand reacted faster than she herself had time to figure out exactly what the reason for her reaction was, and moved.

It wasn't even a reflex, but rather some sudden animal impulse that emerged from a hundred thousand of the tiniest factors that ordinary people didn't know or suspect.

Even Cinder herself couldn't figure out exactly what she was doing, before a knife slammed into the wall in front of her. A knife that she had picked up and thrown for some reason.

It was… It could probably be mistaken for an outburst of unmotivated aggression, but to Cinder's mind, it was more like instinct. There was something there. Something dangerous.

DANGER!

Her mind screams at her.

Cinder's instincts, her childhood, her training, her desire to protect Jonathan, the stress - it all worked together and Cinder's hands worked much faster than her mind, throwing the knife forward.

Instantly, everyone in the restaurant froze, focusing their eyes at Cinder in incomprehension. But Cinder was not at all aware of what the others were doing, her entire attention was focused on the embedded knife. And on the nothing that it had struck.

Slowly, a drop of blood dripped from the knife that stabbed into the wall.