Heavy, cold rain shatters the needles of behemoth pines, sending them hurtling down dozens of feet to the ground. Jagged tree roots jut out of the forest dirt at unnatural geometric angles. Tonight, the ragged, orchard-colored air smells like copper, although at the rate things are going, it might reek of iron.
CRACK!
A hookshot burrows its way through three solid inches of bark, creaking under the weight of two bodies that fly past. It shatters splinters as it makes its exit wound.
"He's still on us! Can't you go any faster?!"
"You know, it isn't easy lugging two-hundred pounds of man-baby and thirty pounds worth of toys! Could you at least try to help?!"
"Ok, I'll think of something…"
A few moments of silence sit as wind whips them in the face.
"So, have you thought of anything yet?!"
"Yeah, take us straight into a tree!"
"If you want to die so badly, just let go of my legs!"
"No, for real! Just trust me!"
"Okay! Here goes everything," the rappelling figure screams, veering sharply into the nearest tree ahead of them.
In the span of roughly half a second, his hanging partner whips out a shotgun that fans out into a glowing green axe and brings it crashing through the wood in front of them. Following through to the end of the swing, the axe then flattens into a luminescent shield that he thrusts upwards with a sudden burst of unnatural inertia. Temporarily, the two of them and the rended tree above are suspended in the air before a steel cord shoots out of the debris and plucks them away.
"Did you get him?!"
"We'll find out in about half a-"
THUNK!
"Uhh…"
"Can't you look behind us?!"
The thick chunk of tree plummets at terminal velocity, as if swatted out of the air by massive force.
"Yeah, so that didn't work."
CRASH!
Taking a look himself, the swinging figure sees their shadowy pursuer just a couple trees back. In close pursuit, he spins around the wooden bodies by his hands, flinging himself forward effortlessly between their trunks.
"Ya think, Rig?!"
A whistling volley of stones narrowly miss the two, catching the grappler off guard. He misses his next shot as they fall several stories down in a pendulum motion. At the last second before impact, Rig digs his heel into the ground and the pushes the duo off with an invisible radius of rip-roaring velocity. As his partner lands a solid mark on a distant tree, Rig wretches at the sudden change of direction.
"Smart thinking weaponizing our dinner!"
"WHAT DINNER?!" Rig coughs.
Though the stalker draws near, the trees ahead grow noticeably denser, shaving precious seconds off of the grappler's reaction-time.
"Question. Do you prefer splinters or stitches?"
"Well, technically-"
"Splinters it is!" the grappler whoops.
They slope back down, this time in a controlled motion. Or at least, as controlled as they could be while forearm-sized pine needles stab them from every direction. Their Auras flicker and zap all the way down until their feet reach the ground.
"And we stopped because-"
"Because we can't run away anymore."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying we literally can't get away from him."
"Oh. Ok, I'll stay behind and stall."
"I'll do recon as usual. Keep your Scroll on hand," the grappler orders as he zips upwards and out of sight.
"See, here's the thing, Spirit…" Rig mumbles, whipping his Scroll out and to his ear.
Their pursuer flies in from the canopy above and lands with perfectly silent grace right across from him.
The Scroll chat crackles on. "I may or may not have drained most of the battery playing that game again."
"You what?!" The voice very audibly screams on the other end.
"Might wanna make this quick."
"You can count on it," the pursuer interjects, advancing towards Rig.
"Uh, yeah, so-" Click. Rig swings the axe out from behind, "Might have an objection to that."
Spirit soars over the trees and under moonlight, clicking the hookshots on his wrists together as a small, translucent platform forms beneath his feet. His baggy sleeves roll down his arms as the hookshots transform into a sniper rifle while he smoothly balances into firing pose.
"I swear, I'm strangling you after this, Rig," he says, peering through the scope.
"Whatever gets your rocks off- assuming we make it out of this," Rig replies, narrowly dodging an air-piercing fist and somersaulting himself backwards with a gravity rush.
"Speaking of, DODGE! LEFT!"
Rig sidesteps from another volley of deadly pebbles. He presses forward as the rest of the small stones ping off the Aura-charged shield, coming close enough to switch it to axe mode and get a few swings in. The stalker simply dances around the violent blows.
"Hey, Rig? You remember that Grimm Behemoth we were after?"
"You mean that- stupidly- big one we ran into earlier?" Rig asks between heavy breaths and swings.
"Yeah, that one. I think it's safe to say it knows we're here."
The stalker places a hand on Rig's axe before he can lift it back up. The weapon tip smashes into the ground as if a lead suitcase was hung on it. Rig struggles against the effort as the green Aura charge phases out.
"Without Aura, it's just an oversized stick," the stalker says, a grin gleaming from his shadowed face.
"With Aura, you're just a oversized d-"
"Get on the tree behind you!"
"Got it!" Rig roars, using a gravity rush to throw him and his heavy tool backward onto a branch.
A sniper shot rings in the air just before a bullet hits the dirt in front of the pursuer. In the half-second that the stalker spends dodging, Spirit swoops in to sweep Rig off.
"Ugh, why does it feel like I'm carrying two-hundred tons of man-baby now," Spirit yells as they sail through the air.
"Keep talking like that and I promise I'll find a way to get heavier." Rig looks at his weapon as they slowly start to gain speed, "Whatever he did to my axe is wearing off."
"Great, because in about a minute, we'll need it!"
The hunched back of the Behemoth Grimm looms, spiky tendrils rising out from the living mountain like an artificial layer of treetops. Its skull is pock-marked with cracks and scars, and its horns larger than the pines at its hooves show signs of wear from combat with other gigantic horrors. Piercing red eyes like kilns stewing in hatred illuminate the path ahead.
"I'm throwing you on this thing! Make it mad for our pal back there!"
"Mad?! How?!"
"I don't know, you got any gut juice left?!"
Before Spirit can receive a response, Rig is flung into the air. With as much strength as he has left in both arms, he swings straight down onto the center of the Grimm's head. A crack forms on the abomination's skull as it sends a shrill cry throughout the forest. Rig stands up, reverting his axe into a shotgun and pointing it towards the fracture. The Grimm jerks its head to the right with enough speed to rustle the needles on trees nearby.
The scream from his Scroll alone paints the whole scenario for Spirit.
Spirit summons another airborne platform, twisting his ankle as he switches directions. He grimaces from the pain, but still hops off while changing his rifle back into hookshots. Rig points his shotgun towards the ground, charging up his Aura as he fires. The plan works as it keeps him suspended in the air, but fails to address the Grimm already cocking its head in a mad charge to impale.
Spirit still hasn't fired his hookshots.
"Rig!"
With the force of a raging comet, the stalker collides into the Behemoth's head. He smacks the both of his palms against the deformed bone, roaring as the Grimm drops forward from an invisible force. Two hooks glint under the moonlight over their heads, perforating a tree across. Spirit catapults himself soon after, grabbing Rig once more.
As he stands atop the struggling Behemoth, the stalker watches them disappear under rain and darkness.
-XX・XX-
"Echo-echo-echo."
"Why are you doing that?"
"It's fun-fun-fun."
"Shut up-up-up."
"See-ee-e?"
"Ugh," Spirit whispers after a moldy droplet leaks plops onto his nose. "Low voices from here on out, okay? That guy could still be following us."
"Stalactypes are cool-ool-ool."
"Types?"
"Yeah, you know, those things-" Rig says, flicking out his axe to point to the massive rock spear hanging above their heads.
"OH MY-"
"Don't worry, they've been there for at least a little longer than us. So we should be polite. How do you do-oo-oo?"
Spirit winces, scooching a safe couple body-lengths away from his teammate and whinging quietly about his wounded ankle the whole way.
Rig frowns. "You sure you're okay?"
"I already told you," Spirit murmurs, turning towards their dimly glowing window into the rain outside, "I'm fine. My injuries from that mess aren't major."
"Right, right. That's not what I meant."
Silence makes the cave colder. Spirit sighs.
"Yeah, Rig. I'm just…" Spirit tries to hide the increasing strain in his voice, failing miserably. "Just a little tired is all."
"Ok, ok. If you need to take a nap that badly, you should have just said it, cranky," Rig blows a raspberry.
"I'm not cranky. In fact, I've never been this happy to see rain before."
"Oh come on, you don't like rain?"
"How do you like rain?"
"I don't know, it's like refreshing and full of life and cozy and the sky's so cool when it's grey. You know, like when you want to fall asleep but being awake also feels just as right?"
"Huh, well ya learn something new every day. Didn't picture you as a rain person..." Spirit lets loose an errant cough into one of his droopy sleeves.
A few small streams of rain coagulate under the upper lip of the cave's moth, branching out into forks as they run deeper inside. Sometimes, a droplet lands on one of them. But they don't say anything.
"You think-" Rig starts. "That he's still after us?"
"Even if he's Faunus, the rain should wash away our trail." Spirit curls his tongue to aim a concentrated breath of steam out into the cold. "Get some rest. You deserve it more than I do."
"But you're not good."
"It's just a sprained ankle, not a raging headache. Between the two of us, you used far
more energy."
"If it was a headache, maybe we could do an emergency lobotomy, eh?" Rig says, motioning to his stalactype to no audience.
"I need a lot more than a lobotomy when I'm around you. Besides, I was just swinging around in that fight, but I know how much that gravity rush takes out of you."
"And making platforms mid-air doesn't?"
"Look. I'm trying to be nice here, so the least you can do is not wear us down with some stupid argument, alright? Sleep. You're more important than I am in this dynamic."
Rig shifts uncomfortably over on his side of the cave. He turns on his side, away from the cave entrance and Spirit.
"If you're tired, just wake me up, ok?"
"Okay. Thank you."
For the next few minutes, only the sound of cavewater and rain echoes throughout the cave. As soon as Rig starts to snore, Spirit falls on his rear, exhaling deeply. He unlatches his hookshots as he stares out at a mountain in the distance.
"Yeah, I'm alright." Spirit rubs at his ankle, pulling his knees close to his chest. "I'm alright."
-XX・XX-
"Duuuude, did you see that all-girl team? One of them- the one with the blonde hair was all like bazinga and kerchow!" Spirit bubbles, making arcing motions around his chest and backside. "Man, if I could just get my hands on a pair of those…"
The spires and cupolas of Beacon Academy frame an eager and youthful midday sun. Its rays beat down like a wardrum cheering on the spritely figures of future Hunters and Huntresses in training. The grounds are packed with murmurs and students, whichever proves more annoying, all kept safely under the watchful eye of the geartower.
"For sure dude, those arm cannons look like they pack a punch! She's so coool~"
"Yeah, that too," Spirit says.
Righam swallows a small green fruit whole, gulping painfully as it rolls down his throat. Realizing that no coughing fit can save him now, he flops onto the grass like a dejected puppet and stares at the sky, just processing reality.
"But seriously though," Spirit says. "Did you see them? I think the one with the red and black hair really likes me. She was smiling and everything too."
Righam rolls over and glances at Spirit. "I think she does that with everyone, Spirit."
"Not with eyes like those. They're screaming 'take me now,' Righam, I'm tellin' ya."
"Because they're silver?"
"... Sure."
"Didn't your parents raise you not to steal?"
"Righam, you worry me sometimes, you know that?"
"I already told you, just call me Rig."
"Rigly-wiggly Rig."
Rig squeals giddily as he tosses around on the grass.
"You're dang right!"
-XX・XX-
"Aww, but I wanted to play some more with that Nora girl," Rig yelps.
"You're not taking this seriously at all. It's like you don't care," Spirit scolds.
Rig whimpers, unable to respond.
"Hey, isn't that a little much, Spirit?" Flora suggests.
"No. We're not getting much done and if we keep this up, our dynamic's going to fall apart!"
"I don't really think it's that serious…"
"Okay. Let me play this out for you." He presses the palms of his hands together in a prayer-like fashion, moving them down. "Grimm attack! Village is on fire, everybody's panicking so the Grimm are getting worse and worse. You know how fear and panic and all that good stuff brings them in like ants to a family picnic, right? Anyways, people are screaming and nobody knows what's going on. A kid holding a teddy-bear or whatever is standing around, crying his eyes out. Then, suddenly, BANG!"
Flora yelps as he jolts towards her with his last word. A crowd chock-full of curious faces has already formed around the trio.
"Water tower collapses! A literal ton of steel falling straight for the kid at terminal velocity. Kid ends up getting turned into a red pile of mush because I'm fifty feet in the air, you're trying to treat everyone with your herbs, Nima's busy running laps around the village to cover the perimeter, and Rig is playing with dolls he found from a burning house! Now we all lose our licenses because nobody's gonna remember how I killed a bunch of Grimm dozens of yards before they could step into the village, or Flora saving a mother bleeding out in the streets, or Nima nearly breaking her legs. No, they'll only remember the lives lost. All because a kid, who hasn't even gotten his Semblance yet, didn't put a lick of effort into our dynamic!"
"'Dynamic' this, 'dynamic' that." Stepping out of a crowd of bystanders and brandishing her spots, Nima butts in. "Spirit, will you just shut up already about our 'dynamic' or whatever you want to call it? Our team is fine. Everyone and their mother knows by now that you're just doing this to flex for every female in a fifty mile radius wherever you walk."
A wave of oofs and oohs echoes out from the crowd.
"Wha-?! How dare you make such an accusation!" Spirit's face reddens. "Don't mistake my dedication to saving lives as just some sort of hormonal side-effect! Or are you just trying to cover the fact that while I'm busy standing my ground and killing Grimm, you'd be running off from the fight?"
Another uproar reverbs around. Nima narrows her eyes.
"Excuse me? That's really cute coming from you."
"And those are some fierce words coming from someone whose best quality is chasing her own tail in circles. All I'd have to do is get on a platform fifteen feet in the air and it'll be leopard-hunting season all afternoon."
Nima closes the distance between them. "You think I can't jump a few yards up, coward?"
Spirit imitates her action. "I know you can't, furball."
The crowd starts to chant, their escalating cheers gradually revealing their thirst for battle. Flora raises two shaky hands, stammering as she tries to approach her two teammates while they butt heads and grit their teeth.
"Stop!"
A cry cuts through the din, silencing them all.
"Guys, I'm not a kid, I get it. I'll try to try better. I'm sorry that I ruined your dynamic," Rig says tersely, then disappears into the crowd.
Nima glares at Spirit, pointing an accusatory finger towards his chest. "Look what you did to him!"
"What I did?! If he gets anyone killed, you still gonna stand on your soapbox?" He turns towards Rig, who is still in earshot. "He did it to himself."
-XX・XX-
"Somemthinmgn smells like a toast?" Rig mumbles.
The burnt breadcrumb trail starts to singe the inside of his nostrils, it almost smells like-
"Wait!" He screams, lunging out of of fetal position. "Something smells like fire!"
"Wha-whu?" Spirit mumbles as he wakes up. "Fire? Fire?!"
Rig frowns and crosses his arms. "If you were just gonna sleep anyways, we might as well could have started a cozy campfire."
"You said fire!" Spirit retorts.
"Oh, dude! Remember the village! And that cute girl we saw…- we have to save her!" Rig jumps upwards.
"Cute girl, huh? Since when were we doing it for the girls?" Spirit trails off, strapping his hookshots on his wrists, "Can't seem to remember."
-XX・XX-
