RWBY
THE SOUL OF THE STORM
BY A STEREOTYPICAL GAMER
A/N: This story takes place after Volume 3, during the six month timeskip. This is in continuity with my earlier work "The Snow Angel and the Ruin King", but it is not necessary to have read that story to enjoy this one.
Chapter One: The Bear and the Maiden Fair
Junior's Club, the Edge of the Vale Safe Zone
They had been unfortunate, to be so close to Beacon Academy. Atlas had tried to make the Safe Zone as large as possible, but a lot of businesses on the edge of town were abandoned on the other side of a military blockade. Junior and his men were still inside that barrier, but only just. Worse, they were a criminal enterprise just a few blocks from an armada of soldiers and a massive horde of Grimm just a little past them. It hadn't made for good business. It certainly hadn't helped the property value.
Criminal operations had been almost entirely suspended with a major supply route cut. Junior was constantly speaking to the family bosses above him about the situation, and they were growing increasingly impatient with his lack of profits. Most of his men loitered in the club, taking full advantage of the free drinks and the lack of anything else to occupy their time. A few had fled for greener pastures once the Grimm broke through the academy walls, and many suspected they'd found more profitable enterprises outside the grip of an Atlas checkpoint.
Inactivity bred tension in men. Career criminals, even more so. They were hoping for something to change, for anything to come their way. For anything but an uneventful night.
They should've been more specific in their wishes.
Banging on the door drew a bouncer's attention, and he went to examine… only for the door to fly off its hinges and smash into his face. A Beowolf squeezed itself through the door frame, snarling at the inattentive guards, most of whom were quicker to examine their beverages than reach for a weapon.
"What are you idiots waiting for?" Junior snapped. "Aren't you used to other idiots breaking into this club by now?!"
His men did eventually draw their guns and fired, but the Beowolf was followed by more of its ilk, each squeezing through and widening the door frame. Eventually another group of Beowolves just made a second entrance beside the door, more and more pouring in. The first few were quickly gunned down, but Junior's men were quickly overwhelmed as the Grimm kept forcing their way forward.
Melanie and Militia had been passive and indifferent during the initial foray, but the numbers game drew them in, as they began fending off the Grimm themselves, quickly evening the odds. Junior himself interceded next. His weapon of choice had been broken months earlier, but his fists were enough to break little Grimm like these.
The Beowolves kept up their attack, his men quickly breaking formation and retreating. Melanie's kicks cut a path on their right flank and Militia's blades held the line on the left. They were clumping together in the center, and Junior could just punch straight into the horde. The tide seemed to be turning…
…until Junior's fist raced into the group of Grimm, only to be caught by a slim, pale hand. He felt as though he'd punched a brick wall, not a dainty set of fingers. Junior looked past the horde of Beowolves and saw only a glimpse of fair skin, before the hand he'd struck took hold of his wrist and hoisted him up, tossing him away with ease. He saw the roof of his club race overhead before landing on the dance floor, shattering a glass railing as he tumbled.
Melanie and Militia drew back to join the rest of his men, trying to spread the Grimm out again and buy him time to recover. Junior staggered up to his feet and glanced around for his assailant, but saw only the horde of Beowolves, growing larger and larger as more and more poured in through the hole they'd made.
He saw a flash of silver on the Grimm's right flank. A foursome of Beowolves leapt down to the dance floor and encircled him. He raised his fists, but whichever way he pivoted, he'd be unguarded on two fronts.
He saw the glint of silver in the crowd again, as more Beowolves broke from the group and moved to attack his men from the side and the rear, to encircle them as they'd encircled him. He hadn't fought Grimm often, but Junior couldn't recall ever seeing them use tactics before; someone was pulling their strings.
Someone like a hunched over old man with a silver robotic right arm, pointing Beowolves in one direction or another. His face was hidden in a mess of lengthy gray beard, but he had a distinctly red left eye, shining amidst the shadows of the club entrance.
"Take out the leader!" Junior called. "Shoot the human working with them!"
His orders fell on deaf ears, as his men were quickly overwhelmed. Only the twins managed to keep up the fight, even as they were pushed back and surrounded by the Beowolves.
Once the fighting calmed, to only Junior and the twins still standing, the horde of Beowolves began to move apart and take places around the club. Some stood guard over his beaten men. Others formed two lines, creating a pathway from the entrance to Junior on the dance floor.
The two lines of Grimm stood shoulder to shoulder, and in unison, dropped to a single knee. Junior was aghast, trying to comprehend it all…
… when he saw that slim, pale figure again, descending the steps. A woman with skin white as snow, hair black as night… a woman barely taller than Militia and Melanie, walked past monsters without a care. After all, the monsters were kneeling; kneeling before her.
The hunched, bearded man joined her, taking the long way around the line of Grimm. He stood beside her, waiting on her order.
"Who is this?" she asked in a dull monotone.
"Hei Xiong," her ally answered. "Also called 'Junior.' His associates, Melanie, Militia Malachite." He pointed to the twin girls in red and white still fighting the Grimm. They were trying to reach him, but the numbers game would continue to wear them down.
"And does he have it?" the pale woman inquired.
"Do I have what?" Junior demanded, still keeping his eye on the four Grimm surrounding him.
The hunched man with the robot arm pulled out a scroll and tapped on it. A few moments passed before he held it out in his hand, setting up a holographic display of shipping crates and briefcases. "You contracted your men to steal Dust for Roman Torchwick. My associate here wishes to know if you were smart enough to keep any for yourself."
"You're behind the times, old man," Junior spat. He debated whether he should've mentioned that annoying blonde girl making a similar inquiry, but quickly opted to save that information for later. "The guys I lent to Torchwick never made it back. They got pinched- or worse."
The hunched man continued working on his scroll, setting up a new holographic display of Vale. "Then kindly show us any storehouses of Dust you or your subordinates know of, so that we can raid them."
This was the weirdest shakedown he'd ever experienced. "You guys new at this or something? Why should I tell you my trade secrets?"
The woman stepped towards him. Dainty and slim as she was, her every footstep cracked the dance floor beneath each bare foot. She drew close to look at him, both eyes hidden behind thick black bangs. "Brave, isn't he?" she observed in the same quiet monotone.
"He isn't aware what he's facing," her hunched associate replied. "It won't matter how brave he is; nature abhors the stupid."
"So enlighten me," Junior demanded. "Tell me what you want."
The woman leaned her head to look at him. Her hair fell back, revealing an eye of intense green, with no iris or sclera to alter its hue. "I want you to bring me all the Dust you can," she answered in the same emotionless tone. "Every last shard and sable, no matter its color, no matter its potency. Everything you possess, everything you steal, everything you find… I want it brought to me."
"And what am I getting paid for this job?" Junior demanded.
"Whatever your life is worth," the woman answered. "Whatever their lives are worth," she continued, with a casual flicker towards Militia and Melanie.
The twins had finally broken through the group of Grimm and were moving to the dance floor to intercede. Junior hoisted his fists, ready to join them… when the hunched man shook his head.
"If you want them to live, do not interfere," he advised. "Right now, she's being patient with you."
The woman stepped towards the twins, cracking the floor beneath her step. Militia moved in first, swinging her red and black claws to pin both of the woman's arms. Melanie followed with a high kick on the woman's unguarded face.
Melanie fell to the floor, clutching her ankle in pain. Militia watched in horror as the woman raised her arms and shattered the blades on her weapon. Militia tried to find another place to kick, only for the woman to gently tap the red adorned twin on the head.
Militia crashed through the floor, and imbedded through three feet of concrete. Melanie attempted to stand and fight with her good leg, but the woman merely flexed her arm and Melanie was soon writhing on the floor, clutching both injured feet.
Junior recalled seeing tremendous strength come from the tiny body, but he hadn't expected such a strong defense. Militia and Melanie were much stronger than the rest of his men, and not far behind himself in terms of power. If she could dispatch them so easily…
Junior cleared his throat. "And if I do this job for you… what happens then?"
"Deliver the Dust you collect to Doctor Merlot," she answered, and her hunched ally inclined his head to accept her acknowledgement. "He'll wait at the edge of the safe zone to receive your shipment."
"And how do I get past the Atlesian soldiers?" Junior asked.
"It seems you're the one behind the times now, Mr. Xiong," Merlot told him. "Take a look outside."
The woman lowered her head, obscuring her eyes again. The four Beowolves stepped away from Junior, clearing a path for him and dropping to kneel in line with the other Grimm. Junior stepped over to pick up the twins, carrying one on each shoulder, then stepped out through the broken front door, Merlot behind him.
He looked out at the dark streets, lined with dead or unconscious soldiers. And more pressingly- lined with even more Grimm: Beowolves, Ursa, Griffons, Creeps, Nevermores circling in the sky, and one massive quadruped with a distended snout he'd never seen marching past.
The fair woman stepped back outside, the Grimm in the club rising and following her in lines. The Grimm waiting outside moved to join them, forming an enormous horde at her back as she walked towards the ruins of the pitiful defenses Atlas had tried to leave behind.
"We'll give you a single day to acquire as much as you can from the city," Merlot told him. "Once you've completed your task, I strongly recommend you head to the other side of the world."
Still stunned by the number of beasts in his new employers' midst, Junior barely mumbled out: "Why?"
"Because on the second day, there will be a storm that consumes Vale," Merlot told him.
"A storm?" Junior repeated.
"Oh, yes," Merlot confirmed, giddy with the sight of the horde. "The Grimm are already being drawn here. Once we amplify that process, we will draw all the darkness here, bringing all their energy to a single point.
"In two days, Vale will be home to every last Grimm in Remnant."
