#;ianus

“Do we know what’s causing the riots?”

Ianus Basilius, head of the Mistrali Council, sat among the rest of his compatriots. Mere minutes ago, he and the rest of the council members had been shuffled off towards the executive bunker used for such emergencies. In all his time on the council, the bunker had never been used until now. In fact, the last time that he could recall such a threat to the city that would have necessitated such a thing was the Faunus War, all those decades ago.

To think, that the threat originated from inside the ancient city! From the people themselves, doing the Grimm’s job for them! How galling.

In response to his question, the aides of each council member handed the rulers of Mistral a single manila folder each. Ianus’ stormy gray gaze scanned the reports within, jaw clenching and grip tightening the further down he read.

“Astraea!” Ianus hissed, slamming his palm down onto the round table they all sat around. “That masked bitch!”

“This is what happens when you show too much mercy, old friend.” Intoned the grim voice of Ulixes Ovid, general of the Mistrali Self-Defense Forces. His tan and weathered face crinkled in annoyance. “You should have listened to me and arrested her for fermenting dissent among the populace.”

“She hadn’t done anything illegal!” Ianus shot back. “Not that we could prove, anyway. You and I both know that we couldn’t risk arresting such a beloved public figure and turning her into a martyr.”

“Fat lot of good that did.” The third council member, Sophia Choi, snorted. The wizened old lady folded her hands inside of her long and elaborate sleeves, fixing the head of the council with a glare. “It seems as if she’s set the people loose against us anyway. Do we even have the defenses for this sort of thing? These are people, not Grimm. They’ll be clever.”

General Ovid sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Under normal circumstances, yes, we would. However, there’s an… obvious issue. All this negativity is going to attract the Grimm. We don’t have enough guards to deal with the rioters and the Grimm at the same time. Normally, we’d have a contingent of huntsmen for the latter, but…” He tried very hard not to glance in Councilwoman Choi’s direction.

“But we’ve been losing huntsmen in droves, recently.” Choi spat out. “Something we have yet to know the cause for!”

“There’s an investigation ongoing.” Ianus attempted to placate his fellow council member.

“My daughter was murdered!” Choi snapped. Her parchment colored eyes narrowed, glaring at Ianus directly. “And mark my words, there is going to be hell to pay for that.”

Ianus, to his credit, was far from cowed by the blatant threat. “Regardless,” he continued dryly, “we need to handle the Grimm situation.” Biting the inside of his cheek, as was his habit, the head of the Mistrali Council weighed his options. None of which were very good, but something had to be done. A decision had to be made. “…Send the students of Haven Academy to man the city walls.”

The aide to his side nodded and rushed out of the room to transmit the order. To Ianus’ left, General Ovid looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

“Are you insane?” Ovid questioned sharply. It was the sort of quiet that hid a raging storm underneath. “They’re just students, Ianus. They’re not ready for something like this.”

“You’re entirely correct, old friend.” Ianus calmly acquiesced. “However, they’re all we have. Whatever the reason,” he glanced sharply at Councilwoman Choi, “which is being investigated, I assure you,” his gray eyes swung back towards the general, “our huntsmen reserves have dwindled. This isn’t a decision I make lightly, but we need bodies. We need something to throw at the Grimm.”

It was at this point that the fourth member of the council, Shiro Abe, decided to speak up. “They’re going to die.” He said simply, doing nothing to hide the bored expression lingering on his face. The career bureaucrat hadn’t even so much as blinked while he discussed death as if he were discussing budgetary numbers.

“Perhaps,” Ianus responded as his lips flattened into a thin line, “or perhaps they’ll surprise you. They’re more capable of the task than old men like us, at any rate. Besides, my son and General Ovid’s daughter are among that number. I have every confidence in their abilities.”

The room fell silent at that proclamation. What could really be said when their leader had just acknowledged sending their child to their potential doom?

It was a silence that did not last long, however.

“Aww, you know, it’s almost kind of sweet how much you believe in me.”

Every person in the secure bunker, aides and council members alike, snapped their heads towards the new voice that had just filled their chamber. A voice that shouldn’t have been there.

Ianus’ stormy eyes widened in shock as he stood up from his seat. What was she doing here? Before he could open his mouth to demand answers, the figure in the doorway cut him off.

“Uncle Ianus, do sit down.” The violet leer of Adrastia Ennius crinkled in undisguised amusement as she met the gaze of the most powerful man in Mistral. Without missing a beat, the raven haired beauty sashayed into the room, hauling a duffel bag over her shoulder and dragging a crumpling mass of a man by the collar behind her. With a heave and a grunt of exertion, she tossed the unconscious form of Councilman Saturn Vasilius onto the grand council table. “Thought I’d deliver your missing member, free of charge. Caught him about to be dismembered by a mob outside his home.”

The rest of the room relaxed a smidge at the news of the rather unorthodox rescue. Ianus let out a sigh of relief and took his seat once more, making no comment of Adrastia’s breach of their roles. He was the one that gave the orders, not her. Though, considering the circumstances, this was neither the time nor the place to lecture her on the decorum he had drilled through her head.

Though the tension in the room gradually melted away, Ulixes Ovid found himself more concerned than ever. As Adrastia took her seat across from him and met his eyes, Ovid knew something was very wrong. The look in his adopted daughter’s eyes… It was-

Ovid’s train of thought was abruptly caught off as the bunker shook around them. Dust was shaken loose from the ceiling and floated down onto the council members and their aides, but that was the least of their worries. With the reflexes of a military man, Ovid slammed down on the intercom in front of him and barked out a demand for a status report.

All he got in response was static.

“Well, that doesn’t sound good.” Adrastia mused as she hauled her duffel bag onto the table in front of her and began to dig through it. A moment passed and she realized that no one had so much as moved a muscle. Sighing, she turned her attention towards one of the aides. “Someone should really go check on that.” Beat. “That means you.”

The aide in question, sweating in their boots from everything that was going on, glanced towards Councilman Basilius, who gave their nod of assent. The aide scampered out of the room without a second thought.

“She could have checked on it herself, you know.” Councilwoman Choi pointed out. “Rather than some wet behind the ears political aide that often merely serves to make my tea. She’s a soldier, after all.”

“Perhaps, councilwoman,” Adrastia drawled as she picked a pencil up from the table and began twirling it in her fingers, “you shouldn’t talk about people as if they aren’t there to hear you.” She stared at Choi as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt to be picked out of her boots, then turned her attention towards Basilius himself. “Besides, I assume the esteemed head of the council has marching orders for his most effective agent. Isn’t that right, Uncle Ianus?”

That wasn’t right, General Ovid knew. Adrastia never referred to Ianus as such unless she wanted something. A fact that Councilman Basilius himself seemed to overlook, content with her obedience.

“Indeed.” Ianus replied solemnly. “In light of the current riots spreading throughout the city like a wildfire, I’m sending the students of Haven Academy out to the outer walls to protect against the inevitable Grimm incursion. That includes you, Agent Ennius.”

For a brief moment, a flash of worry crossed Adrastia’s cold, violet eyes… but she was nothing if not a professional. Compartmentalization was a gal’s best friend.

“I assume that includes Renatus?” She asked, her voice softening for the first time during this impromptu meeting.

Ianus Basilius shot her a blank stare in return. “…You know as well as I that that boy would never be able to stomach staying behind while the rest of his peers went out to fight, even if I ordered it myself. Yes, he will be going.”

“I see.” Adrastia muttered. “I suppose you’re right. There’s no denying one’s nature.”

“So,” Ianus continued, “if you want to ensure his survival throughout the next twenty four hours, I suggest you hurry along to the outer wall.”

The pencil that Adrastia had been toying with snapped in her palm.

Taking a deep breath, Adrastia Ennius mustered up the fakest, most obedient smile she had ever given. “Of course, sir. I’ll be sure to hurry along right away. There’s… just one thing, you see.”

“Very well, what is it, Adrastia?” Ianus asked impatiently. There really wasn’t time for this, but she had done well tonight.

The young soldier tilted her head and asked the head of the council, “What do you think my nature is?”

Not a word was spoken as Adrastia tipped her palm over and allowed the broken pieces of her pencil fall. They landed on the ground in a clatter, a soft sound that was almost deafening with the hush that had fallen over the secure council chamber.

“…I’m not sure I understand. May you repeat the question?” Ianus finally replied.

Adrastia let out a resigned sigh as she gave the councilman a disappointed look. “Ianus Basilius, what was one of the first things you ever taught me? Do not make you repeat yourself. You heard. You understood. Do not insult my intelligence or your own by implying you did not. Do not make me repeat myself.”

Even now, there was no reply to her query. Councilman Basilius merely stared her down, as if she were still a little girl that could be brought to heel with just a look. Pathetic.

“Alright, perhaps you need an example.” A sly grin crossed Adrastia’s face as she returned the glare Ianus was giving her. It was like a shark staring down an old lion who ventured too close to the sea. “What would you say your nature is, Ianus Basilius? Ah, ah, ah, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical. I’ll tell you anyway.”

Councilman Basilius turned his head to the left and shared a concerned glance with General Ovid, who merely shrugged his shoulders in response.

“You’re the ambitious sort,” Adrastia began, pointing a finger towards the subject of her analysis. “The type who craves power for power’s sake. You are the kind of man that wishes he were immortal, but since you know that is an impossibility, you settle for cementing your legacy in history and legend. Morality doesn’t even factor into the equation. It’s all about your personal glory hidden behind a pretense of supposedly doing what’s best for the people-”

“I am doing what’s best for the people!” Ianus immediately shot back.

“Then why are they out there rioting?” Adrastia calmly countered. “You’ve been on the council for almost twenty years, but what’s really different now compared to before you joined? You’ve certainly got more wealth and prestige than you did before. And don’t get me wrong! Acting in public like you and father over there are opposed by the majority of the council, when in actuality you’re the one calling the shots? When you’re actually consolidating power behind closed doors? Oh, it’s a stroke of brilliance. A political power play. And really, I think it sums up your nature pretty succinctly.”

By now, Councilman Basilius had had enough of this rambling nonsense. “Is there a point to this, Agent Ennius? Or are you merely here to waste more of our precious time?”

Adrastia looked at the esteemed councilman like he’d just grown a second head.

“Waste your time?” She parroted. “Waste your time?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Adrastia abruptly stood up. With a low, sweeping motion, she gave the Mistrali Council a mocking bow. “Excuse me, oh grand and illustrious councilmembers, for wasting your time!” A sound akin to a gunshot echoed out as the young soldier reared back and slammed her palms against the hard wooden table.

“Agent Ennius!” Councilman Abe shouted. “Show some respect! You are going to put a dent in the finish if you carry on-”

With but a glare from the visibly livid soldier, Shiro Abe backed down and fell silent.

“Waste your time…” Adrastia repeated once more, muttering the words under her breath as she did her best to bore a hole through the wood. “Of all the…” Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and met her father’s worried stare. Oh, the things she wanted to say to that man, but there were more pressing targets. So she turned her head away and met Councilman Basilius’ arrogant gaze once more. “How about all the time you wasted for me, eh?”

“Excuse me?” Ianus Basilius sneered.

“Yeah, I fucking said it.” Adrastia snarled. “All this talk about wasting your time. Ha! What about my time? What about my entire fucking childhood?! Where do you get off on wasting that!”

“Young lady!” General Ovid roared. “Where do you get off on accusing a council member of such things! Show him the respect he is due as a member of this institution, and show me the respect that I am due as your father!”

With but a flick of her finger, General Ovid was no longer sitting in his seat. He was, instead, pinned to the ceiling, held there by an invisible force controlled by Adrastia.

“Adrastia!” Ovid called out, but his errant daughter ignored his pleas and warnings. She’d heard it all a million times.

Ianus, to his credit, was undeterred by the young lady’s fury and display of power. He simply folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Are you complaining?” He asked bluntly. “This is not an attitude befitting the Spear of Mistral. Are you seriously complaining that you’ve been honed into one of the finest huntresses that this kingdom has ever seen? Have you no gratitude?”

“I never asked to be your damn Spear! I never even had a choice!”

“Any choice that you would have made would’ve been a poor one.” Ianus retorted calmly. “An utter waste of potential. Look at you now, child. Your father and I found you and saved you from a life of mediocrity. We forged you into the asset you are now. By all accounts, you should be thanking us. What was the alternative? Letting you waste away in some remote fishing village, barely scraping by, never knowing anything more? Don’t be so pathetic, Adrastia.”

Silence fell upon the bunker once more. Ianus’ words settled upon Adrastia like a poison sinking under her skin. With that dressing down concluded, she found herself gazing at her navel in lieu of meeting Councilman Basilius’ stormy iron eyes. Councilman Abe and Councilwoman Choi shared a baffled glance, neither having the slightest clue as to what was going on. The silence was not long lived, however, as General Ovid fell from his spot on the ceiling and hit the ground hard. A hiss of pain could be heard as the general stood up, but nevertheless he reached for his pistol… Only for Councilman Basilius to raise his hand. His gaze never once left Adrastia.

“What,” Adrastia repeated herself slowly, “is my nature…?”

Ianus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sensed that he’d defused the bomb that Adrastia had somehow worked herself up into. “This is a conversation we should have had long ago, child.” He told her softly. “That mistake is my own, and I will forgive this outburst in light of that. It is only natural for a young woman such as yourself to want to explore her role, her destiny, and her very nature in relation to the world around you.”

Adrastia looked up expectantly, curiosity and even a small bit of hope dancing in those violet orbs.

“You, Adrastia Ennius,” Ianus continued, “are a spiteful, selfish little urchin. You do not deserve the power that the gods have seen fit to bestow upon you. Were you given the option, I have no doubt that you would waste it all on frivolous pursuits that benefit only you and you alone. It is indeed fortunate that your father and I took you and made you so much more than you would have otherwise been. We forged you, honed you, crafted you with care. For that is your nature, child. You are a weapon. Mistral’s weapon. My weapon. Is it a pretty truth? No, it is not. But you were not made for beauty, despite your silly attempts to the contrary. You were made to be among the dank and dirty. You were made to be among the shadows, never seen, with a knife in your hand. Everything I have sheltered Renatus from is embodied in you. We have forged you to do what he cannot. He is the pillar that my legacy will stand firmly on, but you must be the one to protect that pillar. Do you understand?”

The girl in question did not answer. Her dark bangs shrouded her pale face in a way that made it impossible to tell what she was thinking. Adrastia stood there, hands clenched into fists, staring into nothing for what felt like hours. In reality, it was only a few minutes before she softly responded, “Yeah… yeah, I understand.”

Without so much as another word, Adrastia bent down and hoisted the duffel bag she had carried in onto the table. She unzipped it and began shuffling through its contents, clearly searching for something in particular. It was a testament to Ianus’ confidence in his manipulation tactics that he did not move to stop her whatsoever.

Finally, Adrastia had finally found what she was searching for. Her gloved hands pulled out simple video camera and a cable, which she connected to her scroll. She fiddled around with the settings for a moment and hummed approvingly once everything was set up to her satisfaction.

“…Agent Ennius, what are you doing?” Councilman Abe questioned.

The violet soldier glanced up towards the councilman in question in blinked, as if they were being ridiculous. “Why, this is for the show, of course.” She answered the question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“The… show-” Before he could finish questioning their guest, Councilman Abe suddenly found himself completely unable to move. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. It was more like… trying to swim through gelatin. Everything just suddenly felt… so heavy. Abe and the rest of the council slumped over in their seats and face-planted onto the table while the aides in the room collapsed onto the floor. Much to Abe’s horror, even moving his head to look at the obvious culprit was an exercise of herculean effort. It was like someone had just dropped an elephant onto him!

“Girl…!” General Ovid snarled as he glared at his adopted daughter, the only person in the room that was acting like nothing had just happened.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” Adrastia asked oh so innocently. “You’re not looking well. Is old age catching up to you? Should I call a medic?”

“What is the meaning of this?” The hoarse voice of Councilwoman Choi cried out. Sweat began to form on her ancient brow just from the exertion of speaking in this condition.

“I would have thought that the meaning would be plainly obvious.” Adrastia commented dryly. “Then again, it’s not like the council is known for having the best and brightest members.”

It was an insult that Councilman Abe in particular took affront too. “Child, I will have you know that I-!” In what was becoming a bit of a pattern, Abe found himself cut off, albeit this time by the throwing knife that had just soared past his head and nicked his cheek.

“Will I have to gag you?” Adrastia questioned the esteemed councilman, disappointment practically dripping from her lips. “Because I will. I have an entire roll of duct tape right here.”

Wisely, Councilman Abe shut his mouth and did not speak up again.

“Much better,” Adrastia cooed. “Now then, you all must be wondering what this camera is for. Why I’m using my gravity semblance to slowly crush your bodies. Why I’m threatening council members with bodily harm if they don’t shut the fuck up!” She paused, taking their groans of pain as confirmation that they were listening. “The answer is obvious. It’s because, just as Councilman Basilius said, I’m a spiteful, selfish little shit.”

Once more reaching into her duffel bag, Adrastia pulled out three seemingly innocuous items: a large, flowing blonde wig; and a wide-brimmed hat as pale as death itself, topped with several raven’s feathers; and a starkly white, full-faced masquerade mask with black ceramic detailing.

Ianus Basilius’ breath hitched in his throat as he suddenly realized that he’d made a crucial and terrible mistake.

“You’ll have to give me a second, boys.” Adrastia told her captive audience as she began the process of stuffing her dark hair under the blonde wig. “This is always such a hassle… Especially when I have to do it on the fly. But, I suppose all that training you had me do so that I could properly disguise myself is really paying off, eh?” Reaching into her pocket, Adrastia pulled out a small portable mirror, checking her appearance to ensure there were no loose strands of silky black hair showing. “Hmm, stowing it in the bag did the wig no favors, but… it’ll have to do. I’m sure my viewers will forgive me for not looking my best after fighting through all the council’s guards.”

“You…” Ovid groaned, glaring at the woman he had adopted all those years ago.

“Who, me?” Adrastia asked in mock surprise. “Oh, that wasn’t me being facetious. All your guards really are dead. Albeit, I didn’t do it in this wig. Didn’t want any blood on it, you understand. A girl has got to take care of her hair, if nothing else.”

“All this time…” Ianus forced out while pinned to the table. If looks could kill, Adrastia would’ve been dead several times over. “All this time… you’ve been her. Astraea. All this time…” The councilman inhaled a deep, shuddery breath. It hurt so much to talk under all this pressure. This very literal pressure. “…You’ve been turning the people against me.”

“What, like it’s hard?” Adrastia snorted as she carefully placed the rather ostentatious hat on top of her head. “Making the council seem so ineffective might’ve gained you personal power, but it made people resent the hell out of you guys. Didn’t matter who was publicly doing the obstructing. All I had to do was start preaching an ideology that had mass appeal but would be fundamentally opposed by an oligarchic government. It’s amazing how wealth equality and the destruction of social classes really drives the people wild after centuries of neglect.”

Now it was time for the final piece of the ensemble, the final piece of the puzzle that was Astraea. “I don’t particularly care about any of that either way, but…” She picked up her trademark mask and cradled it in her hands. “I wanted a very violent revolution.” The mask was placed on her face, and that was that.

Unless one knew what to look for, Adrastia Ennius ceased to exist, replaced by the lead revolutionary herself, Astraea.

“You.” Astraea intoned, snapping her fingers and releasing one of the political aides from her semblance. “Come hold this camera and point it towards me. And if you say a single word, I swear to the gods that I will gut you like a fish.”

Under such a threat, the aide could only shakily pick themselves up and nod their head obediently. With an obvious terror in their gait, they picked up the camera up from the table and did as they were told.

Astraea nodded in approval. “Good. I’ll handle the controls from my scroll. Now just stand there and try not to shake too much. Especially when things start getting… messy. You’re documenting history, remember that. You’re not going to want to miss a single thing.”

The only response that Astraea got was a single, hesitant nod.  Well, they were a good listener, at least. They’d have to be, if they were basically a glorified servant to this sorry lot of fossils.

“All right, you ready? Doesn’t matter.” Astraea opened up her scroll and tabbed over to the program that her dear partner in crime had supplied for her. “Going live in 3… 2… 1…” The masked revolutionary pressed the big red button on her scroll and turned towards the camera. No one in that room but her realized that she had just hijacked every communications device in the city of Mistral.

“So it has come to this… Greetings, Mistral. As I am sure most of you know by now, I am Astraea.” She paused to really let that sink in. No doubt her followers were cheering at the sight of her face- well, mask, and the sound of her voice. “What a busy night this has been! You have done well, my brothers and sisters. Our moment is here and you have seized it masterfully! You have marched through the streets, taking what is rightfully yours from those that would wish to have you continue to be slaves in all but name! All night, you have been chanting the mantra that has sustained our movement these past few years: NO MORE!”

Astraea raised her fist up in solidarity. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she could hear the frenzied chanting that was reverberating throughout the mountain city.

“No more… I couldn’t agree more, brothers and sisters! I, for one, cannot stomach the stench of this kingdom and its corruption any longer! The moment we have been planning all this time is finally coming to fruition! Some of you not in the know must have been asking, ‘Where is our glorious leader in our time of greatest triumph?’ and ‘Has Astraea abandoned the cause?’ Never! I would never abandon the cause of the Mistrali people! I will never stop fighting for your freedom and equality! While you all were marching in the streets, I was undertaking a far more dangerous task…”

Astraea strode towards the grand council table, the camera dutifully panning to finally reveal a sight that would be burned into the Mistrali consciousness forevermore.

“My brothers and sisters… I present to you the Council of Mistral in all its tepid glory!” Astraea thrust her hand out, giving a sweeping gesture as she showed off her prize. “No, my friends, this is not a joke! This is not a fraud! This is destiny! The council has been subdued! Humiliated! And now it is time… to give them what they deserve.”

Astraea leapt onto the council table, where Saturn Vasilius still laid in blissful unconsciousness. He was never to know the fate that had befallen him. “Councilman Saturn Vasilius!” Astraea declared as she placed her heel on top of his head. “Guilty of nepotism, domestic violence, child abuse, and general incompetence! I sentence you to death.” Using her semblance to augment the weight of her foot, Astraea pushed down and Councilman Vasilius’ skull gave way like a rotten pumpkin in the beginning of November.

One of the aides found the strength to let out a bone chilling scream, but Astraea didn’t miss a beat. She simply moved onto her next target.

“Councilman Shiro Abe…” Astraea intoned like an angel of death. She knelt down on top of the table and grabbed a handful of his graying hair, forcing the councilman to look up into her mask. “Guilty of money laundering, extortion, bribery, and head-in-the-sand policies that have cost far too many people their lives. For all of that, I sentence you to death.”

Councilman Abe’s eyes widened sharply and he valiantly tried to struggle, but it was to no avail. Astraea pulled a knife out of her boot and slit his throat then and there. For a moment, Abe tried to say something, but all that came up was a gurgle of blood. Astraea released his fair and Abe’s face fell onto the table with a dull thud. He did not rise again.

It was time for the old lady. “Councilwoman Sophia Choi. Gods, look at you.” Astraea sneered as she waltzed over. “You’re ancient. You should have retired decades ago. Perhaps you would have been spared this fate. You are guilty of racketeering, profiteering off of the drug trade, and being the best fucking friend of every syndicate and cartel that operates in Mistral.” For that, she gave old Choi a good kick in the face.

Kneeling down as she did with Abe, Astraea grabbed Choi’s face and forced her to meet the implacable gaze of her mask. “You helped to make the Yonghai Syndicate what it was. And what’s more than that, when those old connections stopped proving useful, you and some others plotted to make a little girl an orphan just so you could muscle in on her family business.” Rearing back, Astraea delivered a hell of a blow against Choi’s cheek. A few teeth were clearly knocked loose, with how blood was no spilling from Choi’s mouth. “Perhaps it was karma that you lost your only daughter last year. Too bad that, from where I’m sitting, it’s hardly enough.”

Astraea leaned in and, so quietly that only Councilwoman Choi would hear, whispered, “Which is one of many reasons why I’m the one that murdered her.”

Before Choi could process that sinister revelation, Astraea pulled her pistol out of its holster and placed it inside of the councilwoman’s mouth. The revolutionary cared not for the tears now streaming down the face of the grieving mother, only for her crimes. “I sentence you to death.”

With the flash of a muzzle and a deafening bang, Councilwoman Choi’s brainmatter and blood was sprayed onto the wall behind her. Her body fell onto the floor and was not regarded by Astraea again.

“Then there were two…” Astraea mused as she strolled towards her final two victims. Ianus was glaring at her something fierce. She had never seen him this angry! Gods, it was cathartic. But, it wasn’t his turn yet. Oh, no, no, no. She was saving him for last. So instead she turned to face… her father.

General Ovid did not look as furious as dear Ianus. Oh, the anger was still there, but… Astraea internally winced as she gazed into his eyes. Like Choi at the end, the man was crying, but… she got the sense that it wasn’t for himself. The sheer devastation in his features… Astraea shook her head. No. She needed to focus. She had already come this far, she had already dedicated herself to this. This… had always been unavoidable.

“General Ulixes Ovid…” Astraea began, far more somberly than her previous executions. “I have to admit, you were a tough nut to crack. Your track record is far more squeaky clean than your peers. A dedicated military man, through and through…” A long, shuddery breath escaped her lips. “But that doesn’t excuse the child abuse you were part and party to for the past two decades. That doesn’t excuse you standing idly by and letting such things… happen. You are guilty for being a failure of a man, a failure of a commander, and… a failure of a father.” She paused, and then gave Ovid something she hadn’t given any of her other victims. “…Have you anything to say in your defense?”

Ovid was silent for a long moment… and then his body shuddered. With great effort and exertion, he slowly pushed himself up off the table so that he could sit up straight… so that he could look his daughter in the eyes one last time, even if it was through a mask.

“I’m sorry…” He croaked out. “I am so, so sorry… I am sorry for all the pain I have caused, all the pain that I let happen… But, most of all, I’m sorry for all the pain that this is going to cause you going forward. This won’t bring you the peace that you seek. Trust an old man that has seen more than his fair share of death.”

Slowly reaching forward with a shaking hand, he grasped Astraea’s own bloody palm and squeezed it tightly. “I have a daughter, you know. She’s probably out there on the front lines right now, watching this or fighting against the pack of Grimm that I know in my bones is coming…” Ovid stared into those masked violet orbs knowingly. Even now, even in this situation, he would not give up her identity. He would not rat his baby girl out and doom her more than she was already dooming herself. “I just hope… that she knows her old man loves her. That even with all of my failures, I… I just wanted the best for her. That ever since I picked her up that first time, I knew I would do everything I could to protect her. I’m just… I’m just sorry that I didn’t always succeed.”

Astraea was glad that the aide carrying the camera was at the complete other end of the table. She was glad that she could control the camera through her scroll, so that she could zoom out enough that the video feed wouldn’t see how her body shook like a leaf in the wind. So that it couldn’t hear the sobs that threatened to escape her chest.

“She knows.” Astraea hoarsely whispered. Reaching behind her back, she pulled out the last weapons she had allowed herself to bring, twin tantos with a serrated edge. Weapons she had stolen from one of the many huntsmen she had slaughtered over the past two years. Weapons that couldn’t be traced back to Adrastia Ennius.

She crossed the blades just above the base of Ovid’s throat. “Ulixes Ovid, I sentence you to death…” For a moment, Astraea hesitated. In the next moment, Ovid subtly nodded his head and whispered, “It’ll be okay.” In the moment after that, Ovid’s head fell to the ground, along with the tantos.

They were poison to her now. She could never touch them again. The weapons that had ended her father’s life.

Astraea did not immediately move from her spot like she had with the others. She let herself have this moment. She let herself silently scream over the sin she had just committed.

“You’re a monster…”

At that, Astraea snapped her head to the side to come face to face with Ianus Basilius. The councilman was still pinned to the table, but defiance still shone in those stormy eyes of his. “You’re a monster,” he repeated hoarsely, “and I should have put you down ages ago.”

“Probably…” Astraea responded. “But I’m only what you made me.”

“You’re a fool.” Ianus bluntly told her. “You’ll have your revenge now, but then what? You murder me and this entire kingdom will collapse into chaos. Are you really ready to condemn an untold amount of people to the pyre and to the Grimm just for your personal vendetta? Even you couldn’t be that selfish.”

“You know,” Astraea began slowly, “once upon a time that might have given me pause. But as I have recently been told, my nature is to be destructive, spiteful, and selfish. Do you really expect me to fight against my nature?”

It was now, and only now, that Ianus realized and fully accepted the imminence of his death. There was no escaping this. He would not be let go as he had been oh so long ago. His luck had run out and the bill had come due.

But even in the face of his demise, the councilman’s mind was whirling. It was as the girl had said, it was pointless to fight against one’s nature, and as she had elaborated oh so plainly earlier… his nature was that drive to cement his place in history.

“The people will never follow you now!” Ianus declared, using what remaining strength he had to make his voice project. If he was to die, now was the moment to make himself a legend. “Not after the savagery you’ve displayed here, Astraea! The good people of Mistral deserve better than a monster like you to lead them!”

“Head Councilman Ianus Basilius,” Astraea intoned, completely ignoring Ianus’ prattling, “You are guilty of that which you have always denied.”

“People of Mistral, I am sorry you will have to bear witness to this tragedy and that you will have to weather through the fallout. But stay vigilant!”

“You are guilty of conspiring to overthrow the government.”

“Dark times are ahead, but you must stay strong! You must stay united! For it is unity that is Mistral’s strength!”

“You are guilty of consolidating power in your own hands.”

“I believe in you Mistral. I believe in you, my children.”

“You are guilty of intending to declare yourself Shogun.”

His declaration finished, Ianus glanced up and into the eyeholes of Astraea’s mask. “You too, my child, will have a taste of power.”

“I sentence you to death.”

Grabbing the knife from out of her boot, Astraea rushed forward and stabbed Ianus Basilius, tackling him to the ground. The knife sunk deep into his shoulder and the councilman couldn’t help but let out a hiss of pain. Astraea was not done, however. Pulling the knife back out, she stabbed Ianus once more. Then again. Then again. Each scream of pain, each splatter of blood, was more cathartic than the last. Astraea couldn’t help herself. She had wanted to do this for So! Stab. Damn! Stab. Long!

An unhinged giggle bubbled out of Astraea’s mouth, and before she knew it, she was howling with laughter as she mutilated the corpse of her abuser.

All of this was caught on camera.

All of this was broadcasted.

All of this was being watched by the entire city.

The sheer shock and horror Astraea’s broadcast had produced was enough to lure in every Grimm for a hundred miles.

Not that Astraea cared much. She was too busy stabbing Ianus Basilius over and over and over again. By the time she was finished, she was panting with exertion and breathing heavily. It was done. It was fucking done… And there was no more point of playing pretend.

With the press of a button on her scroll, the broadcast ended. The camera was shut off. Astraea tore off her mask and threw the now bloody wig to the ground, the hat along with it, and became Adrastia once more. She stood up from off the ground, almost stumbling and losing her balance as she did so. After all of that she felt… off-kilter. But the night was still young. There was still so much more left to do.

Adrastia lazily swiveled her head towards the cameraman she had forcibly enlisted. There were tears streaming down their face and they had clearly pissed themselves, but they were still holding the camera steady. Good lad.

“You’re free to go now.” She told them passionlessly. “A promise is a promise. So long as you never tell anyone that Adrastia Ennius was here? You can live the rest of your life in peace.” Beat. “But if you squeal, your death won’t be as quick as some of these assholes got.”

It was probably a testament to how fucking terrified her cameraman was that they immediately dropped the camera onto the ground and sprinted out of the room like she had just cracked a whip at them.

Which left the issue of what to do with the rest of the council’s glorified servants. All of whom had seen her face and knew who she was. She had let one poor soul run away. She wasn’t feeling generous enough to give five or so more the same deal.