Egrer was a little nervous as he rode the elevator up. His foot tapped against the floor all on its own, and his hands competed with each other over who could bend their fingers harder. His gaze darted around the steel car as if searching for an escape route. His body was sweating, his hair, slicked back with hairspray, practically giving off steam. A drop of hot sweat rolled down the back of his neck right past his collar.
No, he wasn't afraid of meeting Mr. Adel at all, it's just that elevators had long since become associated with Ozpin's office for him. And trips to the Headmaster, naturally, were quite a stressful event for a student.
That was how Egrer reassured himself.
He should have inquired about the tailor's identity before they came to him, but it was too late to back out now. The only thing Egrer regretted was poor Weiss, who had no idea what trials awaited her psyche ahead.
After all, she didn't know that Mr. Adel only spoke normally when it came to work...
He belonged to that type of people who burned with passion for their hobby so much that they didn't need any workshops; everything they needed was right at home. He only had to wake up and he could immediately start the workday. And sometimes his diligence could be... dangerous. So you had to be careful with him.
Egrer shook his head, trying to throw out the memories of how he and Roman had secretly infiltrated a courthouse and swapped evidence to get Mr. Adel off a hefty sentence. Torchwick simply couldn't let the only person he could call a friend without a twinge of conscience end up in the slammer. Who would sew his clothes in that case? Who would he chat with about fashion and style over a glass of whiskey?
It was thanks to Mr. Adel's hard work that Roman didn't look like some ragamuffin, but a real ladies' man. Cultured, sharp-tongued, and all that stuff. This mask was created by him, and it fit the real Roman so well that he soon merged with it and played to the gallery even when completely alone.
But to maintain such a high level of style, Torchwick often had to make certain sacrifices. For example, one time he ran out of eyeliner, but a robbery was scheduled soon, so he came up with a brilliant idea - steal it from Neo. As a result, the heist went off without a hitch, he flashed his smug mug on TV, and then Neo, who found out about everything, tied him up and hung him upside down over an open dumpster for the night. But Roman was still happy.
As for Egrer himself, it was hard to accept Style into his heart at first; such an obsession with fashion seemed stupid and wasteful. Why spend so many Lien on showing off, when you could buy perfectly functional and comfortable clothes at the market?
But soon the importance of good clothes was beaten into his head after all, and he was able to see the truth.
Egrer used to be stupid and, like the herd, repeated the same mantra that the inner world is more important than outward appearance. However, that was complete bullshit! Clothes are the exact manifestation of the inner world! You can understand someone's worries and habits, flaws and virtues much better by their clothes than by some eyes. Clothes - that's the true mirror of the soul.
It's no coincidence the old saying goes: "You're greeted by your clothes..." Egrer tried to ignore the second half of the proverb about being seen off by your mind, since he could never boast of any particular intelligence.
The elevator car stopped. The mirrored surface, reflecting a nervous Egrer and a calm Weiss, slid apart, opening the way to a well-kept hallway. His tongue wouldn't dare call this magnificence a simple stairwell, but a fitting word with a more noble connotation came to mind just in time - a grand foyer.
A carpet runner stretched down the hallway, its softness palpable even through boots. Pots with houseplants stood on low nightstands on the sides, and the hallway itself ended in something like a lounge area where neighbors could gather together and chat.
It somewhat reminded him of the Beacon dorms, if everyone there had their own personal five-room apartment and a complex of maids who looked after all this decor. Instead, four people had to share one space, and acting as maids were the slaves of Janitor Chuckler, who had the misfortune of getting caught breaking a rule or just catching his eye.
Doors lined the left and right, and next to the doorbells were small plaques with the tenants' surnames and apartment numbers. The coveted inscription "Adel" was found near the third door on the left, and as soon as they got closer to it, a pale-faced old man opened it almost immediately.
Mr. Adel hadn't changed during this time - he was still the same helpless geezer suffering from numerous diseases picked up during a wild youth. However, he was exactly at that age when any changes occur no more than once a lifetime, and usually, it's a move to the cemetery.
The only constant was his desire to follow the newest youth trends. And so right now he was wearing a white hoodie several sizes larger than necessary, big star-shaped glasses, and bright red sneakers with a tongue so long it practically touched the floor.
The tailor himself stood ostentatiously relaxed, his hands stuffed in his pockets and slightly slouched, as if standing up straight was simply too much effort for him. But through all this fake "hype," the imprint of his lived years could easily be seen with the naked eye. His dark chocolate hair would have looked natural, if not for the deep wrinkles and sunken cheeks, which made it immediately clear - it was a wig.
Catching sight of Egrer, Mr. Adel squinted his coffee-colored eyes, the pupils of which had long since lost the ability to focus.
"Yo, Eg!" He held out a dry hand, which, surprisingly, didn't tremble in the slightest. "What's good? Heard you enrolled in that Huntsman joint. Ain't seen my granddaughter by any chance, have ya? 'Cause it looks like she straight up forgot about her old man."
"Sup, Mr. Adel. Your granddaughter is delayed on field practice. But nothing major!" Egrer immediately assured him, seeing the concern on the tailor's face. "Just... transportation difficulties."
He didn't know exactly what caused such a long delay, but as far as he knew, her entire team was alive. At least their deaths would have definitely become public knowledge, certainly among Beacon students. However, this wasn't something a not-so-young heart should be worrying about, so Egrer hurried to change the subject.
"And also, there's a good chance she'll put me in the hospital when she gets back. I had the misfortune of stealing the job of organizing the ball from her."
The tailor laughed.
"You know each other?" Weiss asked in surprise. She had stood there the whole time with her mouth open in an uncultured manner, completely not expecting the orphan Faunus to have connections with people of this caliber. Though, it was more likely she was surprised by Mr. Adel's manner of speech.
"Well..." Egrer drawled. "I've been to this house once. By the way, Mr. Adel, any discounts for an old acquaintance?"
"No." All the "youthfulness" was instantly blown out of his voice. However, a second later he was smiling again. "Well, come on in, homies."
As soon as the tailor turned around, Egrer's friendly smile cracked and turned nervous. Since Mr. Adel knew he was at Beacon, it meant he also knew about his running away.
"Homies..." Weiss said quietly. "Am I a homie?"
"He doesn't always understand when to use those words," Egrer explained in a whisper. "But I doubt you'd feel any better if he called you 'sis'."
Inside Mr. Adel's apartment, mannequins with clothes stood everywhere. Some were dressed in business suits from the last century, some in lush ball gowns, there was even a pair of rubber scuba suits. Legless mannequins stood on tables and chairs, full-length mannequins were placed in corners and along the hallways, and a dozen plastic heads in a wide variety of hats sat on the windowsills.
Nighttime trips to the bathroom probably turn into a horror movie. When dark humanoid figures stand in every corner, it's no wonder you could imagine things that would make the bathroom no longer necessary. And navigating between them without Faunus night vision must be a real drag.
Even during the day, it was quite problematic. Weiss and Egrer tried not to touch anything, but some mannequins wore rather puffy clothes, and they ended up snagging on them themselves. And it usually only took a small push for the lightweight plastic dummies to start falling onto their neighbors.
It wasn't hard to guess what would happen if they didn't catch at least one of them - they would all crash down like dominoes.
"Dudes," Weiss flinched at this address even harder than the last one, "you booked your appointment just in time. In about a week, I'm heading to Vacuo to chill on the beach."
Mr. Adel, on the other hand, navigated between the mannequins with such skill, as if he were a fish in a coral reef. It gave the impression that he knew perfectly well where everything stood, and even with his poor eyesight, was capable of orienting himself here with ease.
Egrer had been to this house only once, when Roman dragged him here. No, he was in no hurry to part with his hard-earned cash and pay a world-class master, who sewed custom orders for people like Ozpin and Jacques Schnee, for clothes for a borderline orphan. It was just a brief consultation in passing, based on which Egrer was bought a regular suit jacket in a regular store. Neo cast an illusion on them and they were able to make the purchase in peace.
Mr. Adel led them to the kitchen. He poured Weiss some tea, showed her where the cookies were, and asked her to wait half an hour while the work was being done. As for Egrer, he led him to the second floor of his apartment.
They arrived in a large, well-lit room, and the old man blindly waved a hand with an extended finger toward a table, asking him to put all his clothes there. He himself walked over to a large workbench with many drawers and compartments, on which sat several pincushions with various needles. While Egrer undressed, Mr. Adel took out several measuring tapes from a drawer.
Thick rollers with bolts of fabric hung on the walls, as long and thick as streetlights on a highway. Some had stickers with letters and numbers hanging on the side, in which anyone ignorant of the tailoring business would find no meaning.
"Roman told me you bailed on him," Mr. Adel said, sitting on a stool next to Egrer. Egrer flinched. "Lift your arms."
"Yeah, it happened," Egrer nodded carefully, allowing him to start taking his measurements. "We didn't see eye to eye on my future. I kinda didn't wanna spend my whole life as a criminal."
"Oh, for real? He told me you just ditched him. What a prick, playing an old man! And here I was about to chew you out for disappointing such a good guy."
"Roman is extremely far from the concept of 'Good'."
"You guys keeping in touch?" This unexpected question slightly threw Egrer off track.
"No, what's the point? We have nothing to talk about, that phase of my life is over." Mr. Adel pursed his lips. It was hard to tell if he was dissatisfied or puzzled by something. "Why do you ask?"
"It's just that Roman got himself into some deep shit and I was hoping you could help somehow. He dropped by recently for a drink. Was lamenting that he ain't planning to become a terrorist and spouting some crazy talk about Grimm. Asked me to leave Vale for a while. Maybe you know something?"
Egrer stood in hesitation for a while, not knowing if he should say anything. He had no burning desire to discuss such things with someone he barely knew, but on the other hand, what if Roman had told him something very important? This information could be very helpful.
"And he also talked mad trash about you to me," Mr. Adel continued. "Like, instead of doing something useful, you're just getting underfoot. Before that, he only brought you up once."
"I find it hard to believe he could get drunk to that degree. It's not in his character."
"The tougher the man, the louder the snap when he breaks," Mr. Adel replied. Now, when he wasn't pretending to be a representative of the youth, his wisdom was visible to the naked eye. "And so far it was just a crack. So?"
"I... I know he got into trouble, and I'm exactly trying to help him and mom," Egrer said after a couple of seconds. "Some woman forced them to work for her, and she also has the White Fang and a bunch of killer robots from Atlas under her heel. There might be something else I don't know about. I think you understand the situation is bad."
"Bad ain't the word for it. The White Fang, huh... Roman was mumbling something about a terrorist attack in the city the likes of which the world has never seen."
"A terrorist attack..." Egrer echoed. He bit his lip. "Roman will think of something to avoid it. He's not a killer... I mean, sometimes he had to, but not innocent civilians."
"I already reported it to the cops, but I didn't know anything concrete and they just took me for a panic-monger." Egrer raised an eyebrow, as if asking what he even expected from the Vale police. "Hey, it's you gangsters who ain't used to calling the authorities, but what was I supposed to do? I'm just a regular guy, and I did everything I could."
"Did Roman say anything else?"
"He was mumbling something about Grimm. He was already pretty wasted by then and was mostly trying to convince me to dip out of Vale when the festival starts. Oh, and he mentioned Mount Glenn a couple of times."
Some knowledge of geography told Egrer that this abandoned settlement was located to the southeast. And it was exactly in that same direction that the White Fang base where they were bringing the stolen Dust was located. Perhaps the Atlas Paladins are stored there too, because if they were kept somewhere in the city, Junior would have definitely found out about it.
Relief spread through his body with a pleasant warmth. Another puzzle piece, another step forward. But at the same time, the revealed information caused fear. The White Fang is preparing a massive terrorist attack, and Roman is directly involved in it. This already goes beyond Beacon; now innocent citizens could be hurt.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Adel. You helped me a lot, and that means you helped Roman too."
"Man, it's a damn shame dragging kids into this. You should be studying, not participating in criminal turf wars."
"I got myself into this," Egrer replied. "And if that's all, let's better discuss my suit."
"Well, that I can do with pleasure." Mr. Adel scribbled something in his notepad and walked over to the fabric rollers on the walls. "What cut, what material? How much should I bite off Roman's style, and how much should I come up with from scratch? I'll do a quick fit on you right now, and you're good to go."
"I don't wanna look like Roman," Egrer grimaced. "I kinda don't want to carry around a makeup bag that not even every girl has... And also - less white, please."
Discussing the look of the finished product took far more than half an hour, because Egrer didn't just nod like a silent dummy, but actually understood a thing or two about style and fashion himself. Mostly thanks to Roman, but he also had his own vision of beauty.
He didn't have to worry about the price, although he shuddered slightly when he heard how much it would cost Weiss's wallet. But since it was precisely her fault that his previous, not-so-cheap suit jacket had been ruthlessly chopped to pieces, his conscience simply whistled somewhere on the sidelines.
"Mr. Adel," Egrer said before they left the workshop. "If Roman tells you anything else important, let me know immediately."
"Doubt we'll be crossing paths anytime soon. Per his request, I'm flying out of Vale for about a month. But if I do, then sure."
They went back downstairs, where Weiss was already waiting for them. She stood near a mannequin with a light blue dress and a small hat, intently examining the clothes. She simply radiated boredom, and when she caught sight of them, irritation as well. However, Weiss didn't show it outwardly in any way.
"Eyeing something?" Mr. Adel asked amicably.
"Perhaps. Are you finished?"
"For today, yeah. In about a week, the suit will be ready. Our boy here might have to drop by for a couple of preliminary fittings."
"Excellent."
"Then catch you later, dudes."
Mr. Adel courteously walked them to the threshold. As soon as the door to his apartment closed, Weiss immediately asked displeasedly:
"Why did you take so long?"
"We had a real brainstorming session. And I haven't talked to anyone about fashion in a long time. By the way, here's the estimated receipt." Egrer handed Weiss a piece of paper. "The exact amount will become clear a little later."
Weiss peered at the numbers. Her voice was strained.
"Eg, when I said I would pay for everything, I did not mean that I have a sum of three hundred and fifty thousand Lien at my disposal. At least not right now. Do not think my father gives me millions for pocket money."
So that's how it is. Apparently, even Weiss Schnee herself could experience certain financial difficulties.
"Probably shouldn't have thrown other people's suit jackets at dangerous criminals, huh?" Egrer replied slightly caustically.
"Sometimes I hate you. I hope Mr. Adel's services can be purchased in installments. Do you even have any idea what kind of sum this is?"
"With this money, you can buy four hundred and sixty thousand, three hundred and four packs of instant noodles, six hundred and ninety thousand, five hundred and thirty-three discounted packs of pasta, or three hundred and six thousand, two hundred and fifty kilograms of frozen chicken."
Weiss froze for a second. She was either trying to comprehend that Egrer, who had never been friends with math, was able to perform such arithmetic calculations in his head, or she was doing her own.
"Pardon me, is this some kind of peasant joke that I am too rich to understand?"
Apparently, the very concept of evaluating amounts of money this way was completely alien to her.
"It's just easier for me to count money if I convert it into food. It makes it more visual, I guess. So believe me, I understand what three hundred and fifty thousand Lien is."
Practically the whole way back, Egrer tried to convince her of the importance of style and that no amount of money is a pity for its sake, however, he did not particularly succeed. The pragmatic Weiss might love beautiful things, but she loves efficiency even more. And only near their dorm did he remember what Mr. Adel had told him today. Weiss promised to pass this information on to Blake at the first opportunity.
The sun began to dip towards sunset, and when Egrer returned to his room, it was already evening. So he wasn't surprised when he found his entire team in their room, resting after a hard day of classes.
As well as a failed tailing mission.
"So, your excuses," he began as soon as he stepped inside. The door lock clicked; now no one would escape him so easily.
Yort snorted and continued watching a crime show on TV. Illmond pretended he didn't hear his words, still sitting glued to his Scroll. Magenta began to stutter and wave her hands.
"W-what excuses? We didn't do anything wrong! We didn't do anything! Back me up, guys!"
"Madge, you just gave us away," Illmond remarked indifferently.
"N-no, you just gave us away! If you hadn't said that, Eg wouldn't have realized!"
Egrer nodded sarcastically in time with her words.
"Of course I wouldn't have realized anything. It's not like I saw you guys on the train dressed like stereotypical spies, and it certainly wasn't you who fell for my call."
Magenta grabbed her multicolored hair. She looked as if it had dawned on her.
"So that's why the kettle was turned off! How could you? You tricked me!"
"Yep," Egrer nodded. "I tricked you. And you invaded my privacy. Now tell me whose idea it was. I might not kill them immediately."
"His!" Magenta pointed a finger at Illmond.
"Hers." Illmond pointed a finger at Magenta.
They stared at each other for about five seconds, after which, without saying a word, they both pointed at Yort.
"The fuck?" he practically choked in surprise. "You think I got nothing better to do, you retards? They both came up with it."
With these words, Yort spread his arms to the sides and pointed his fingers at Magenta and Illmond. It resulted in a triangle of mutual accusations, in the center of which Egrer stood. His palm reached for his forehead all on its own.
Not that he was particularly eager to single out someone specific and issue a reprimand (too ineffective), but by digging into one person there'd be a better chance of evoking a sense of shame in the guilty party. If only out of spite, he had to try.
"Why did you even need to tail me in the first place?"
"Well..." Magenta drawled uncertainly, "it was interesting... I mean, if I went on a date, wouldn't you tail me?"
Egrer was about to say a firm and clear "No," but he almost immediately realized that this would be a blatant lie. If Magenta went on a date, then of course the rest of the team would keep an eye on her. But for completely different reasons!
Not out of some banal curiosity, but because it's Magenta, and she needs to be watched like a hawk! What if her suitor planned something indecent? What if he was just playing the gallant gentleman, but in private would show his vile nature? Their beloved butterfly wasn't ready for that yet.
"Or Ill?" Magenta continued the thought.
This time Egrer didn't even have time to be outraged, as the two concepts "Illmond" and "found a girlfriend" entered into a fierce contradiction, causing his brain to reboot. His eyebrows furrowed all on their own, and his mouth opened in an attempt to say something. However, if such a thing actually happened, it would be an event comparable in its importance to the cataclysm that shattered the moon in ancient times.
Illmond himself just snorted.
"Or even Yort?!"
"The hell you mean 'even'?" their giant protested. "I got way more chances to rope in some fine ass than this scrub."
"Ill at least is interested in drawn girls," Magenta found a way to reply. "And you only care about your asteroids."
While they bickered, Egrer became completely embarrassed, realizing his hypocrisy. He suddenly lost the desire to scold them, but he continued this thankless task out of principle.
"Fine, you got me," he admitted. "Yort, what do you say? What are your excuses?"
"Ain't had shit to do anyway. Today's a dull day, no P.E., no combat training."
"You're like always, too. And you, Ill?"
Illmond crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. He spoke as if he were doing them an honor.
"Wanted to find out how relationships work IRL. You just happened to be the first one to catch my eye."
"Well, look at that," Egrer marveled. "I don't wanna sound naive in my pathetic hopes, but you better go find a girlfriend yourself. Experience it fully for yourself, so to speak."
"Pfft! I have zero interest in 3D uggos."
"But you're interested in relationships with them? How interesting."
"It's for scientific interest! I need it for a new work."
Egrer was convinced once again that he was simply jealous. Illmond could repeat a hundred times that he couldn't care less about 3D girls and that relationships are only for the weak, but even a child would suspect something here.
But right now Egrer simply waved him off. What needed to be done had already been done - displeasure expressed, scoldings distributed. Now he could move on to truly important matters.
"Madge, Weiss doesn't believe you'll be able to overtake her in academic performance. Care to show her who's boss?"
"What's the matter with you?!" Magenta protested. It seemed the prospect of butting heads with the best first-year student scared her a little. "I'm already barely coping with what Ren assigns me, and you wanna increase my workload even more? Denied!"
She didn't exactly look particularly tired. Usually, after their tutoring sessions, she radiates positivity and happiness, considering it her duty to tell them about all the games Ren invented for her learning.
"The honor of our team is at stake, leader...ess." Egrer decided to even add this grammatically incorrect suffix in all senses, just to sweeten her up a little. "By the way, Weiss thinks you're no smarter than a bowl of grapes, so you have to prove otherwise!"
"Why should I care so much about her opinion? Let her think what she wants, I know perfectly well that I am actually smarter than grapes."
Everyone in the room exchanged glances. Such fundamentally banal words coming from Magenta's mouth sounded like divine revelation.
Somewhere subconsciously, everyone on Team MJEI understood that manipulating their leader was becoming harder and harder; she was not only getting smarter, but also wiser. And now they saw firsthand how much she had grown mentally. It was even a little sad. Is this what parents feel when their child no longer needs constant supervision and is practically ready for independent life?
"Alright, as you wish," Egrer said. "Then let's handle this like adults."
"A fight?" Yort perked up.
"Hentai machinations?" Illmond inquired.
"Drawing lots," Egrer answered them, turning to Magenta. "Heads - I win, tails - you lose."
"Let's go!"
Egrer placed a coin on the side of his fist and sharply flicked his thumb up. The coin landed perfectly in the center of his outstretched palm. Tails.
"You lose."
"Noooo! I demand a rematch, let's do it again!" Egrer shrugged and tossed it one more time. This time it was heads.
"I win."
"Noooo! I don't wanna waste my entire youth cramming because of your bruised ego!"
"Because of your bruised ego," Egrer corrected. "You're the bowl of grapes, and I'm a slice of bread and I'm not arguing with that. Wish you luck with your studies."
Magenta raised her head to the ceiling and wailed like a child. Well, maybe she had become wiser, but she didn't stop being Magenta because of it.
***
The next morning, an official message arrived on Egrer's Scroll, asking him to appear for a medical examination at the doctor's office after lunch. The others received the same letter, but with a different time. Quite convenient, they wouldn't have to sit in line for a long time.
But it was more likely because if Beacon administration hadn't set a specific time, limiting it only to a date, then five minutes before curfew all of Beacon would be at the medical office. No one would voluntarily go into the lair of a sick-in-the-head vivisector, so everyone would have postponed the inevitable for as long as possible.
Egrer felt an unprecedented relief that all this would soon end and he could devote all his time simply to living at Beacon. Without devious plans, criminals, terrorists, constant encryption, and code phrases. Lately, his life had turned into some kind of teen spy thriller.
But even so, today was full of surprises. Team Majesty was heading to the cafeteria for breakfast when a panicking Yang ran straight into Egrer.
"Found him!" she shouted happily. "Gods, I found him! Arctic Wolf or Arctic Fox?"
"What?"
"ARCTIC WOLF OR ARCTIC FOX?!"
She said it with such desperation, as if her life depended on the answer. Egrer gulped. He knew neither the context of the question, nor its meaning, nor the consequences of either choice. Therefore, he automatically said the option that was faster to pronounce.[1]
"Arctic Fox!"
Yang calmed down immediately and smiled creepily. Obviously, this boded ill, and Egrer felt uneasy.
"You heard his choice."
"Arctic Fox, we'll write that down," Joker stepped out from around the corner. "The first option, of course, isn't bad either, all noble and stuff, but the second one is simpler and a bit hilarious. I was leaning towards it myself, but one simply cannot fail to ask your opinion, Mr. Schnee."
"Mrs. Schnee also chose the Arctic Fox," Yang smiled predatorily. "I told you it would work. They're both so twitchy, you approach them and they act like they're expecting a knife in the back. That answer was guaranteed."
While Egrer stood with his mouth open, Yort patted him on the shoulder.
"Well, you uh, gonna handle this yourself? I just wanna grab some grub."
The others also walked on, leaving him one-on-one with the duo of Joker and Yang. A bewildered Egrer scratched the back of his head in confusion.
"What are you two even talking about?"
"We were choosing a ship name for you and Weiss," Yang replied.
"Don't be mad, Mr. Schnee," Joker said peaceably as Egrer flushed with irritation. "It's for business - for the newspaper! Otherwise, constantly writing 'Weiss and Egrer' takes too long, and it might not be immediately clear that I mean you two as a couple. But here with 'Arctic Fox', everybody instantly gets it. Plus, it saves space on paper! You can cram in more information."
Egrer's hands clamped around Joker's neck, but he didn't even feel any particular discomfort; the difference in strength between a fourth-year and a first-year was just too great. The failed murderer simply hung on him like a five-year-old child on an adult. He barely reached the floor with the tips of his shoes.
"Let me kill you! Since when did you two even hit it off?!"
"Catch you later, Mr. Schnee." Joker easily broke free from his grip. "I've still got a newspaper to write. Dragon?"
"Let's roll." Yang and Joker bumped fists and simply walked away, leaving Egrer to huff powerlessly with anger.
If this really made it into print, he'd set fire to the student newspaper building. And most likely half of Beacon would carry him in their arms for it, since this vile hotbed of gossip had already thoroughly pissed everyone off.
"Annoying folks, you must admit," Weiss's voice was heard from behind.
Egrer involuntarily jumped; it was the first time in his memory that she had snuck up on him so stealthily. A rather successful revenge for all the times he himself had scared her from behind.
"Good morning," he said, calming his heartbeat.
"After everything we've gone through, it's not good." They both chuckled. Never before had code phrases fit a situation so perfectly. "Honestly, someday I will strangle them. Yang for sure."
They went to the cafeteria together. The empty corridors were a reminder that practically all of Beacon was at breakfast right now, which made Egrer almost break into a run. After all, if they didn't hurry, all the tastiest stuff would just be snatched up, and he'd only be left with a stale pig in a blanket. However, Weiss walked deliberately slowly.
"Do you think," she said thoughtfully, "everything will work out?"
It took a few moments to understand what she was talking about.
"Of course. I'm sure the General and the Headmaster have everything under control."
"But I have my doubts. Are we not missing something? Some minor detail because of which everything will go awry."
"Scared?" Egrer asked carefully, moving slightly toward her.
"Pfft, of course not!"
Egrer nearly broke his stride. Weiss trusted him enough to reveal her deepest fears, which she had done more than once.
'The emphasis,' it suddenly dawned on Egrer. 'She always says 'after all we have gone through', not 'after all we have gone through'.'
It took great effort not to give away the explosion of his emotions. A massive dose of adrenaline flooded his body, as if he were one-on-one against a horde of Grimm. But the one walking next to him right now was far more dangerous than any monster.
However, disbelief followed almost immediately. For some reason, the thought that the Weiss in front of him was a spy felt insulting to him. As if by such suspicions he was betraying her trust. Still refusing to believe his fears, Egrer carefully inspected her for any inconsistencies with her usual image. The same straight posture, the slightly haughty look, the clear skin. Even the scent was the same. Outwardly, the similarity was absolute, but inwardly...
"You can tell me," Egrer said confidingly.
"I told you, I am not afraid. Well? Or do you have absolutely no thoughts?"
His certainty that this really was the Illusionist grew stronger. Besides, Yang had recently seen the real Weiss, and it was unlikely she could have ended up even further from the cafeteria than all of them. In any case, even if Egrer was mistaken and this wasn't a fake in front of him right now, when everything fell into place, she would, on the contrary, praise him for such observation. Otherwise, it definitely wouldn't be Weiss.
Judging by the questions, the Illusionist wanted to find out something about their plans. In that case, it was worth throwing her off the scent.
"Minor details, you say..." Egrer replied thoughtfully, trying not to look in the fake's direction. "I was thinking recently that the Headmaster isn't telling us everything."
"Really?" fake-Weiss overtook him slightly to look at his face.
"I'm sure he knows who the Puppeteer really is. Ozpin is just waiting for Her to do something thoughtless or risky. Then he'll catch Her red-handed."
If the Illusionist took the bait, they would start acting much more carefully and slowly, which was exactly what they needed on this important day. Something told Egrer that it wasn't a coincidence that the Puppeteer's minions were getting antsy today of all days, the day when the medical exam arranged by the Headmaster was supposed to provide Atlas detectives with material for analysis. Perhaps they guessed about the trap.
Unfortunately, Egrer's face broke into a goofy smile, and the fake saw it.
"I find that hard to believe," she replied. "Were that the case, Ozpin would have caught the Puppeteer a long time ago. I doubt he needs special reasons or conditions to do so."
"It's Ozpin," Egrer shrugged. "A true madman, you never know what to expect from him."
"Indeed." When they almost reached the cafeteria, fake-Weiss turned to the side. "I will skip breakfast today. Bon appétit."
Any doubts fell away; right now, an enemy stood before him. The real Weiss was surely in there right now, and meeting the original would be an instant death sentence for the fake.
For the first time, Egrer was glad that she behaved rather cautiously and even stiffly in public. Thanks to this, the Puppeteer and Her minions were only able to form a superficial psychological profile of their relationship; they simply had nowhere to learn the nuances. Only because of this had he managed to spot the trap.
"Everything okay?" Egrer asked only because he had to ask. If the real Weiss had been in front of him, he would have done exactly that.
"Just no appetite. I probably ate too much yesterday." The fake turned around and walked down the empty corridor towards the dorms.
Egrer surreptitiously took out his Scroll. He'd be lucky if the Illusionist's Semblance affected the mind, because that meant the photo would show their true appearance. He aimed the camera at the fake's back, and a second later, a characteristic click rang out, making Egrer's heart skip a beat.
Fake-Weiss turned around, but he had already run into the cafeteria. All he could do was pray to the Twins that the Illusionist would think they just imagined it.
Egrer went to the serving line, first casting a glance toward Team RWBY's table. Weiss was calmly eating soup in her seat.
But in that case, the Illusionist's stunt was pointless, since Egrer would have realized almost immediately that there was a fake in front of him. Then why did they go for it? Didn't the Puppeteer want to keep the existence of Her illusionist a secret?
And then Egrer remembered that the fake had used the code phrase. The enemies had somehow found out about their precautions, and most likely they guessed that the existence of the illusionist was no longer a secret. Which meant there was no point in excessive caution, like before. If Prosperity found out now that one of them had been tricked, it was no longer the Puppeteer's problem. She could afford to play aggressively.
Egrer looked at the photo on his Scroll and exhaled irritably through his teeth.
"What idiot thought of putting the click sound before the actual picture is taken?"
The photo only showed blurred dark-skinned legs and a piece of a skirt. But even so, it was a big step forward - the illusionist turned out to be female. Or a transvestite, which was unlikely, but paranoid Blake definitely wouldn't discount even that theory.
He needed to assemble Prosperity as quickly as possible.
[1] Just a little context about this translation. The Arctic Fox, or 'Pesets' as it's called in Russian, is way faster to say than 'Arctic Wolf'. The word 'pesets' is an original Russian word that literally means 'little dog' or 'dog-like'. It formed in Old Russian (it appears in documents as early as the 12th century) from the word 'p'sъ' (dog) with the diminutive suffix '-ьць' (-ets). For the Slavs, this animal was originally a 'polar doggie', and only much later did scientists officially classify it as a close relative of foxes.