Senti's POV
Vale never slept, but it liked to pretend.
When the markets closed and the streetlights flickered, the noise didn't stop — it just moved underground.
Deals, threats, the quiet sound of footsteps that didn't want to be followed.
I lived in those hours.
A year before Beacon, I wasn't anyone special. Not anymore.
Just another Faunus working jobs that paid in silence instead of lien.
The "Wolf Beneath Vale" rumor had spread further than I meant it to.
Half the city thought I was a story.
The other half thought I was a warning.
Both were right.
The job came through one of my usual contacts — a dock foreman with too many debts and too few friends.
"Shipment missing," he said. "Crates of Dust, tagged for Atlas security, gone off the record."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you think I know who took them?"
"I think you'll find out faster than I can. White Fang's behind it. Maybe."
"Maybe," I repeated. "Or maybe you just need someone to scare your competition."
He didn't deny it. "You'll get half up front."
"Full," I said.
He sighed. "Fine. Just keep my name out of it."
"Always do."
The trail led me through the eastern docks — the old ones, where Atlas patrols rarely reached.
The air stank of oil and salt, metal grinding against waves.
I moved quietly, tail low, ears twitching at every echo. My eyes adjusted fast; the red glow was faint but enough.
Logic whispered: Twelve guards, two exits, three ways to die.
Cruelty laughed. Make it four.
Joy hummed tunelessly, counting my heartbeats.
Charm said softly, Remember, you're supposed to look human tonight.
"I'll manage," I murmured.
The Splinters quieted. For now.
I found the smugglers at the edge of the pier — five men, one woman, and the same insignia burned into every crate.
The White Fang.
Not the kind I used to know — these ones wore masks painted red, cheap copies of the real thing. Mercenaries, not believers.
I stepped out of the shadows. "You're early."
The woman drew her weapon. "Who are you?"
"Wrong question."
She hesitated. "Then what's the right one?"
I tilted my head. "How fast can you run?"
They didn't take the hint.
The first two charged. I moved before they finished the breath between steps — blades cutting the air, not skin, just enough to make them drop their weapons.
The third fired a shot. It grazed my shoulder.
Cruelty purred. Let me handle it.
"No," I said.
He fired again. I caught the gun barrel with my hand, twisted it, and drove my knee into his chest. He went down hard.
The rest broke and ran.
I opened one of the crates. Dust — all clean, no tracking chips, worth a fortune.
And next to it, smaller boxes labeled with Fang codes I hadn't seen in years.
Old ciphers. From Menagerie.
My stomach turned cold.
So they were still using the same networks — just meaner, quieter, hungrier.
"Still bleeding the same wound," I muttered.
Charm sighed. You could warn her, you know.
"She already knows," I said.
But she doesn't know what's coming.
I looked toward the skyline, where the Beacon cliffs glimmered faint in the distance. "She will."
By dawn, I'd left the crates for Atlas patrols to find and the thugs tied for Vale PD.
No one would thank me for it. That wasn't the point.
As I walked home, a newspaper boy shouted headlines down the street.
"Beacon Opens Enrollment to All Qualified Candidates!"
The words cut through the noise like a blade.
I stopped, just listening.
People were talking about it — Faunus students accepted for the first time, a new headmaster with "progressive ideals," whatever that meant.
For a moment, I almost smiled.
"She's going," I whispered.
Logic replied, Then you'll follow.
"I won't interfere."
You always say that.
I didn't argue.
When I reached my loft, I found a note slipped under the door — thin paper, no name, only five words:
"The Fang's in Vale again."
The handwriting was familiar.
Ilia.
I burned the paper in the sink, watched the flame swallow her message, and thought about the crates.
The Fang had gone underground again, like I had. But where I hid to survive, they hid to grow.
And when they resurfaced, I'd be there.
Not as a leader.
Not as a savior.
Just as a shadow they couldn't shake.
That night, I climbed back to the rooftops. Vale's skyline shimmered under the pale moon, and in the farthest distance, I could see a speck of light on the cliffs — Beacon Tower, faint but steady.
Joy whispered, She'll be up there soon.
Charm added, And you'll watch from below.
Cruelty laughed. Still pretending you don't care.
Logic said nothing, which was worse.
I leaned against the edge of the roof, tail brushing the tiles, blades crossed over my knees.
"Let her have the light," I murmured. "The shadows will do."
And for a long time, I watched the city breathe, waiting for dawn.