Command tent, Requiem camp, Northern Vale
"Alright…." Commander Pyrrhos said as he sat behind his desk, fingers meshed before his face as he glared at the two people who stood at parade rest before him. He mimicked the pose Eisen Schnee had used on him, and why not? People tended to find his eyes, piercing jade green and ringed with lines and bags so thick one would think he was wearing a domino mask, to be his most intimidating feature. Best to exploit it.
With the backdrop of a map of Remnant, red pins representing the various Requiem outposts around the world, a pile of dig reports and a few samples of the black crystal shards that the diggers had discovered sitting to his right, a code machine spitting out reports to his left, and a large tactical assault rifle leaning against the desk, it all highlighted in stark detail the level of responsibilities he had…and how angry he was at having to be pulled away from them.
"…I just want to know one thing…." He continued, his voice flat and calm as he addressed the pair. The taller of the two was a faunus male, blonde, with a pattern of Ocelot-like spots across his thin cheeks. A red beret was tucked under his arm as he stood at attention, and a pair of heavy revolver-hammers was holstered on his belt. The cat ears perched on his sand-blonde head twitched as he was addressed. The shorter of the two was a Human female, caramel-skinned with close-cropped Ice-blue-hair. Unlike the Faunus male, who was dressed in a black military-style uniform, the girl was casually dressed, a loose blouse and OD green cargo pants over a skin-tight bodysuit that covered her torso. Rough workers boots contrasted with the Faunus' polished and spurred jackboots. However, the tactical anti-material rifle/battleaxe she had slung across her back showed she was no civilian…
Pyrrhos looked between the two, switching the fix of his gaze between first one, then the other. Each time his eyes fell on them they stiffened.
finally, his face twisted in rage and his voice rose to an angered crescendo.
"Who in the HELL authorized the attack on the Vacuo CCT tower?"
Both figures that stood before him flinched, but managed to keep straight faces.
"Major Argent Shanmao….Lieutenant Breen Sin….Care to explain?" Pyrrhos continued, his voice dropping back to a more reasonable level. He had summoned these two, the Commanders of the Vacuo division of Requiem, to his camp upon hearing about the attack on the tower…and what people were saying about his organization.
How he had contacted them when the CCT was down…that was his secret.
the Faunus, Shanmao, swallowed before speaking.
"Sir" he began "It was I who ordered the operation."
Pyrrhos regarded the man with a cocked eyebrow, and one could almost feel his estimation of his subordinate dropping like a deflating tire: as painful as a physical blow, considering the Faunus worshipped the ground his superior walked on…
which would seem odd, to any outsiders: the Commander was only a few years older than his two subordinates. Indeed, he was younger than many people who took orders from him…
"May I ask why?"
"Sir." The major went on, managing to keep a straight face despite the pain of knowing his leader was disappointed in him "We learned via a link from Blizzard Wolf that a vital information package was going to be transferring from Atlas to Vale via the CCT hard-link conduits, and that there would be a window of opportunity to seize it while the connections were made around a storm front that cut off the direct line. Something to do with the ionosphere-"
"Your POINT, Major?" Pyrrhos drew out quietly, his anger visible, his eyes flashing. Shanmao gulped and continued briskly. What he had to say next might save him or cost him his neck.
"S-sir, we had reason to believe the package contained information on the location of…Personality Number One, sir."
Pyrrhos, despite not moving, still seemed to freeze. His eyes slowly widened, and he carefully unmeshed his fingers and placed his hands on the armrests of his chair. For a moment, the two thought his hands were shaking, but their thoughts were interrupted as their leader spoke.
"Major, if you are bullshitting me right now, I will personally feed you to the Grimm." He said, his voice almost a whisper. He stared directly into the Major's eyes.
"What do you have?"
Shanmao, hiding his relief, reached into a pouch on his belt and drew out an information storage drive, which glowed blue, showing it was almost full.
"We had to pull the whole file package, sir…there wasn't time to go through and search." He said as he gently laid it on the Commander's desk. The gaunt man stared at it for a moment.
Sin spoke up.
"We ran it as a standard smash-and-grab, sir: there was no time for more subtle action. We had to take the tower down so they wouldn't trace what was stolen right away. Unfortunately, we didn't have time to pull together enough Fang gear-"
"So you went in standard civilian clothes?" Pyrrhos cut her off. She winced, barely managing to keep her eyes respectfully forwards "You went in with half your team wearing White Fang gear, and the rest in plainclothes? HUMAN features fully visible?"
"Sir, while we tried to put the nonFaunus in the white fang gear, we're aware that they still managed to link us to the attack-"
For a brief, burning instant, the Commander's eyes flashed red, and black streaks of energy coursed up his pale face. Only for an instant.
"The media are calling us TERRORISTS!" Pyrrhos roared, storming to his feet. Neither of the pair could resist taking a step back as he glared at them, his eyes full of rage. His whole body trembled with barely contained apoplexy.
"We are trying to unleash the collective will of the people, Human, Faunus, Menageriean, Mistralian, Valian, Vacuean or Atlesian! I fail to see how making Requiem look like another band of rogues and terrorists is going to make the masses rally to us! Nor can I see how making the people think we're working WITH the White Fang is going to convince the Faunus population that we are not calling for bloody revolution!"
He sucked in a few deep breaths as he kept his piercing laser-harsh glare on the two.
"Let me make this perfectly clear, since I have apparently failed to do so, despite how many times I've had to explain it: WE. DO NOT. ATTACK. CIVILIANS. PERIOD!" he roared, punctuating each word with a fist pounded into his desk. The items on it shook, a few pens and data pads toppling off the edge and onto the floor.
The pair shivered like children receiving a scolding.
"Sir…" Sin replied, her voice barely above a whimper "We-DID-clear the building before the charges went off…"
"Yes, yes" Pyrrhos growled as he sat back down "And that piece of double checking is one of the reasons I'm not having you two thrown in the brig."
both were visibly relieved as he turned his attention to the data storage drive the pair had presented him. Gently picking it up in his hands, he turned it over, looking at it closely. It was an ordinary device, the kind one could purchase at any computer store. He scowled as he saw 'made in Atlas" embossed into the casing: while all his equipment was swept to make sure there were no backdoor tracking bugs or transmitters, he'd have preferred not to use Atlas equipment.
Despite his apparent external anger, inside a brief, hitherto almost unknown blossom of hope began to stir deep within his ragged heart. He might have finally found…her…
He finally turned his attention back to the pair that still stood before him. They were unmoving, a sense of dread mixing with anticipation prevalent on their faces.
"Consider yourselves on probation until I have time to sift through this: if what you say is true, then I'll be willing to overlook this…this time."
Both the Vacuo unit commanders sagged with relief.
"HOWEVER." Pyrrhos went on, causing both to snap to attention.
"If I do not find any such relevant information on this drive…"
He held up his left hand, clad in a black glove, flexing his fingers. The leather of the glove creaked like the sound of a hangman's noose in the ears of the two Vacueans. They knew full well what that hand could do…
" Need I say more? "
Both throats bobbed as the pair swallowed. He was perfectly clear.
"SIR!" they barked, their spines straining to hold them as straight as possible. Pyrrhos waved them away as he turned his attention back to the drive.
"You are dismissed. Report to the watch commander, I want you two on patrol duties. I've already informed Captain Zanna to take command in Vacuo until you two are cleared to return."
"Yes sir!" both echoed in unison, before spinning on their heels and marching from the tent. Despite the Vacuo division containing the largest population of Requiem members outside Vale, with Mistral being third and Atlas having, at most, Twenty members, Pyrrhos felt Zanna, a dark-skinned ex-huntress who'd been booted off the mission board roster after a failed rescue attempt of an Atlesian prince (her only real failure in a long career of success) was up to the task of command while those two were stationed here.
After they'd gone, Pyrrhos sat for several moments, staring at the data disk, pondering it's secrets.
"To think…" he murmured to himself "That it would be so easy…."
A moment of curiosity struck him…Blizzard Wolf was one of his best, most confidant agents. Why would they go to Shanmao and not him?
Maybe they're having second thoughts…
He shook his head, dismissing such concerns…if anyone was faithful to his cause…to him, it was Blizzard Wolf. It had been so ever since his desperate escape from the laboratory…
He stood, intending to seek out a technician he could trust to begin scanning the relevant information within the drive.
At least, that was his intention.
Instead, he slumped back into his chair with a sudden cry of pain, his hands flying to his chest as the drive thudded to the desktop. He clutched desperately, his eyes going blurry and unfocused as he tried to hold back the blackness that attempted to consume him. Blood surged forth around his lips as his heart raced at three times healthy speed, the beats becoming erratic. His head thudded with pain like someone was ringing it with a sledgehammer, and another burst of coughing kept air from entering his lungs. Blood and phlegm splattered his desk, some landing on the drive.
It was getting worse….when he had first been forced onto this path he had been able to go months without an attack, and they only happened when he was stressed…now they were happening almost daily, these horrific bursts of agony on top of his already omnipresent pain. He sucked in air in those few moments he felt his throat clear, ignoring the blood running from his lips as memory flashes thundered through his mind…
"If you push yourself too hard…you're going to end up being the one getting pushed…likely off a cliff."
Memories of long-lost days of beauty and warmth... of loved ones at his side…
"You never told me you could dance!"
"Do you think your parents will like me?"
"HI, BIG BROTHER!"
…memories of loss…of betrayal, of… death…
"You've (cough) you've always gone out of your way to protect us…let us protect you this time…"
"It's a shame, really…you would likely have done well, had anyone else been assigned to your team…"
"Good lord, he's…he's ALIVE! Doctor, his body…it reanimated!"
"That's impossible, he's been dead for a month!"
He had to hold on, to be strong…for everyone…for her…
A familiar scent of chocolate brown hair...of soft, tanned skin, delicate fingers caressing his face…
Of a pair of familiar amber eyes…full of fear…pain…horror…
"Chief, Help me!"
A familiar…and yet unfamiliar…face…the terrified eyes fading away, replaced with flames…
"You were always were a stubborn sort, weren't you? I think it's one of the things I liked about you."
In his distorted vision, spots of black and red filling his eyes, he saw a dark shape suddenly appear, running to his side, highlighted by the growing brightness as his body began to fail him…a familiar voice echoed in his ears as though it were shouting over a vast distance.
"Commander!"
He felt himself being shaken, and, trying to focus, he managed to make out two worried-looking crimson eyes surrounded by black wings…
"Qray…"
Darkness swallowed him whole, with an echoing scream…and those Amber eyes…
[=]
"You coming chief?"
The voice…
"You always have to be the hero, don't you…?"
No…I just don't want to lose the ones I care about…
"You win…you said if I fell for you before the end of the semester I would come home with you this summer…"
…Fell for me…?
A familiar head of ash-black hair…an uncharacteristically short dress….and those eyes…
"Cydney Ashford is dead…I go by Cinder Fall now…"
" Fall? What, like the season?"
"Perhaps…"
"Commander?"
[=]
Pyrrhos slowly opened his eyes, letting the distant voices-and the impossible realities that were tied to them- fade into his memory, as he looked up into the worried face of Qray. Hovering behind her was an older man, a familiar pair of glasses perched on his nose, his lined face set in a worried grimace. The thundering of his blood-and the voices- faded into the background, to be replaced with the muted beeping of hospital monitors.
"Qray…" he rasped, his throat dry. His Lieutenant let out a sigh of relief as she hung her head.
The two figures hovered over him, as he began to register the sensation of lying on his back, on a surface that could only be a hospital bed, that mix of functional softness that one could only tolerate for so long. He could feel the roughness of electrode readers attached to his chest and an IV in his right arm.
"That was a near thing, sir." The older man said, turning away and peeling off a pair of thick, bloodstained gloves that covered his hands. Around him were arrayed tables of surgical instruments and other medical machinery: the Commander realized in a moment of clarity that he was in the central surgical bay of the camp's medical center. Compared to the rough canvas of the tent and the simplicity of the tables, the equipment, part of his payment from Eisen Schnee, was state of the art. The machines had only arrived that morning.
"Doctor Goldman…" Pyrrhos groaned, as the older man washed his hands after depositing the gloves in a sealed bin marked "medical waste." The old man sighed again as he turned to face his commander. Aside from Qray, Goldman was the only one Pyrrhos trusted to know about his…condition.
To everyone else who spotted him in one of his weaker moments, he was recovering from an old injury. Which, in a way, he supposed was true.
"I don't want to know what set this one off, sir" Goldman continued as he stepped over to the bed "But I can't help you if you don't help me in SOME way. The dig is well underway, and we're finding more flakes and shards with each hour, we must be getting close. I can only advise you to return to Thunderhawk base where we have a full medical suite to sustain you, as well as-"
"No."
"Commander…" Goldman said with a practiced groan as his superior tried to sit up. Qray's head snapped up as her eyes widened and she placed a firm but gentle hand on his chest to stop him.
"NO. not after that one…we almost lost you."
Pyrrhos managed a weak scowl, as he reached over and slid the IV out of his arm.
"You know what they say about "Almost" Qray…" he replied, releasing the tube and reaching up to peel the electrodes off his chest.
Qray's usually detached expression took on an uncommon concern, and she didn't move her hand as she stared into his eyes. Those Green eyes, once so full of life and energy….now they stood out on his face like emeralds in a pile of coal. Every day seemed to increase the spread of the infection…and the degradation of his body... a body once full of vitality…
She suddenly noticed that he was staring right at her, meeting her gaze. Motioning to the Doctor, Pyrrhos gestured the older man out of the tent.
With yet another sigh, the Base's primary medical officer turned and, letting a lingering gaze fall on the young man he had pledged his life to, quietly mumbled "I'm sorry" and left the tent, letting the door folds close behind him.
For a long moment, the two were silent, simply staring into each other's eyes as Qray took her hand away from his scarred and brutalized chest, criss-crossed with rough lacerations and pockmarked with holes wrought by blunt surgical instruments. Taking his right hand in both of hers, she squeezed it supportingly, and he saw her eyes had a…slight wetness to them.
Nice to know she cared…
"How long Qray… how long must I continue to fight this…this THING that threatens to consume me…?"
An uncharacteristic sympathy on her face, Qray released his hand, placing her own deceptively delicate hands on his shoulders and slowly massaging them, trying to work out the tension that tied Pyrrhos in more knots than a pretzel. He sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back. Qray looked over his scarred torso, the bags and lines around his eyes, the skeletal gauntness of his face, the deep scarlet goatee extending like a knife from his chin…
...The inhuman paleness of his left arm, the flesh scoured with black marks that belonged only on a creature of Grimm…
"Sir…you've been pushing yourself hard ever since we started the dig…you need to rest."
Pyrrhos sighed in frustration has he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I can't rest…not yet…not when I'm this close."
He paused, looking down at the hand clad in the black glove…amazing, that all that stood between the powers contained within his body and the rest of the world…was a few pieces of black leather.
"I saw…her, again."
Qray's fingers stopped abruptly, and her eyes widened.
"Do you honestly still believe what Cydney told you?"
Pyrrhos said nothing as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, not taking his eyes off his hand as he made and released a fist over and over.
"I SAW her, Qray…I SAW her go down…saw Cydney steal...something, from her…saw that Huntsman take her away…"
his face suddenly contorted in anguished rage, and, tightening his fist, he slammed it into the mattress.
"…and I lay there and did NOTHING!"
Qray was silent as her superior trembled, veering on the threshold of despair that threatened to tip him into an uncontrollable pit of emotions…and give himself over to the monsters that warred with his mind for control…
"You were in no condition to do anything after what Cydney and the Huntsman did to you…" she said slowly.
his trembles slowly subsided, and his face slowly relaxed. But he refused to meet her gaze.
"She knew you were there…"Qray went on, as she leaned in close, draping her arms around him in a loose hug. Pyrrhos was silent as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder, closing her eyes.
"She knew you had come for her…after all that time…you were with her, for one night…"
"One night…" he repeated "…it hardly makes up for six years…"
"I dunno…" Qray replied "six minutes or six years…you still came back…she's the kind of girl who didn't care about semantics like that…"
The two faded into silence, letting the weight of everything that had befallen them…befallen their friends…slowly slide off their shoulders. The past year had been one of the longest of Pyrrhos' life. And that was saying something.
When, against all hope, he had found out…she, was alive… to lose her again…
Their thoughts were interrupted, however, as a middle-aged Human male in a black military uniform partly hidden under red armor plates on his torso and arms, sergeant Stripes on his shoulders, silver crew-cut hair on his head, pushed the folds of the tent aside and briskly strode in.
"Sir, I apologize for interrupting, but-" he said as he snapped to attention and saluted, but his eyes widened as he saw the position his superiors were in.
"Er…that is to say-"
"What is it, Sergeant?" Pyrrhos asked, fixing a look at the trooper as Qray released him, his despair subsiding as the business at hand took precedence. It always did…he had responsibilities to tend to.
the Sergeant relaxed his stance slightly as he let his saluting hand fall to his side.
"Sir…it's the refugees who came in earlier today…"
"What about them?" Pyrrhos replied as he stood, a supporting hand on the bed as he held out the other to Qray, who passed him a muscle shirt. The sergeant's eyes briefly looked over his superior's extensive scarring before he replied.
"There's a lot of faunus among them…fallout from the attack in Vacuo, I think. Some of them want to see you."
Pyrrhos mentally made a note to double the duties of the two who had met with him earlier as, sliding the shirt on, he nodded and followed the sergeant out of the tent, Qray on his heels helping him back into his long white trench coat. He stopped short as something occurred to him and Qray "oof'ed" as she ran into his back.
"Qray, in my office there should be a Storage drive with some sensitive information on it. Find someone to start sifting through it….there's some important stuff there, the source tells me."
He felt Qray nod against his back, and by the time he had turned to regard her she was already briskly striding up the avenue of the camp, her boot heels echoing on the duckboards. He watched her go; he knew their conversation about…her, would come up again.
"Sir!" the sergeant's voice filled his ears, drawing him back to the present, and he turned back to follow the trooper.
[=]
Requiem, as he had established, was a place for people's free will to take flight, outside the constraints of the societies of the kingdoms. No one within the walls of the major kingdoms dared to question the status quo, petrified as they were of the Grimm. "lessons" like Mountain Glenn were thrown in people's faces as reminders why they needed to toe the line and not question the natural order, for to attempt to change things only invited destruction. People willingly gave up prospects and free will, all in the name of collective security. And they stood idly by as those who sought equality, such as Faunus, were oppressed and ignored.
As a result, few were willing to attempt another path…or find a way to deal with the problem of the Grimm…
Initially, his group had consisted of a few followers who traveled from village to village, outcasts like himself, who took matters into their own hands, not only dispatching Grimm threats, but threats from Man and Faunus as well: marauding bandits, abusive sheriffs, corrupt governors, crime lords, and of course the White Fang.
They took nothing in return except a promise of safe harbor in times of need…and in each village they gathered more followers. Qray had been his first ally, joining him as he set out on his path. From there, he had gathered more, and more, until such time came that he had enough people to establish a village in his own right.
And so, Requiem had become more than a name…and when he discovered just HOW the four kingdoms had collaborated to ensure "security" at the expense of innocent people… it had acquired another mission.
Never again would he stand back while the powers that had the arrogance to proclaim themselves the rulers of his race played the game of life and death with people's lives…never again would he allow "the Greater Good" to be used as an excuse for wicked deeds…those people abandoned in Mountain Glenn, sealed away to be slaughtered, were only a few among the lost he swore to avenge.
As he followed the sergeant down the avenue, he began to hear a dull roar…and the sounds of desperation.
As Requiem's reputation had spread as a safe haven for oppressed Faunus who did not want to choose between submission and the White Fang, more and more people, Faunus and their liberal Human supporters, had begun to flock to him for protection. The population of his small enclave had doubled in the past few years as White Fang attacks had increased the distrust of Faunus in the larger world.
Rounding a corner, he stopped short as a pair of men in the black trench coat uniforms of the defense force raced past, carrying a young Faunus woman on a stretcher. The woman's cat-ears flopped against her head, and a young man, his own face bandaged and tear-streaked, ran alongside, holding her hand.
Finally turning the corner, he was greeted by a scene of bedlam.
A large group of faunus in ragged clothing, some sitting on the ground simply trying to breathe while others were being assisted by more members of the defense force and any civilians of the camp who were willing to assist, had materialized in the open space at the center of the camp.
Camp helpers in medical armbands were tending to light injuries amongst the group, while others handed out ration trays, water bottles and blankets. The refugees blubbered thanks, simply happy to be alive and in some semblance of safety. Parents held children close, couples refusing to be separated, all of them with wounds of some sort.
Here and there as he looked over the group he could hear pleas for help, begging and shouting. He spotted the sergeant at a nearby tent, talking to a young Faunus with a pair of dog-like ears coming from her blonde hair. The sergeant turned to him as he strode over to the pair.
"Commander Pyrrhos" he said "this is Miss Kostbar. She's more or less the leader of this group. Miss Kostbar, this is Commander Pyrrhos, leader of Requiem."
The Faunus looked up at him with tired but relieved eyes, taking in his appearance as she held out a hand. He looked her over in turn as he shook it: she wore higher-end clothes, though they were as ragged as the rest of the group's, and when she spoke her accent had a trace of Mistralian in it.
"I believe I have you to thank, for this sanctuary?" she said. Pyrrhos nodded, as he released her hand and turned to look over the group she'd brought with her.
"I can't promise five-star accommodations and hot tubs" he said "But we have food, shelter and warm beds."
"That's all we can ask for at this point…" Kostbar replied with a sigh. She leaned against the support pole for the tent, closing her eyes for a moment. Pyrrhos glanced at her with mild concern.
"When was the last time you slept, Ma'am?" he asked, as two more Defense troopers ran past with another stretcher. She opened her eyes and looked at him wryly, though Pyrrhos could see deep exhaustion in them.
"We've been moving almost non-stop for days. We daren't rest anywhere outside a population center, lest we provoke a Grimm attack, and…" she looked away, scorn filling her voice "Most of the villages turned us away… they see us as inviting White Fang attacks…or inviting retribution from Humanists."
She looked up at him again, a slight pleading in her eyes.
"When we reached the port south of here, our hopes to sail to Menagerie were dashed when no one would charter us a ship. That's when a young woman told us about you."
Reaching out hesitantly, she gripped his coat, looking him over again as a tone of desperation came to her voice.
"She told us about a place where Humanists are the ones that are excluded…where any such hatreds are expunged, and where everyone works together…everyone has a voice…"
Pyrrhos smiled supportively at the young Faunus, as he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder as she began to tremble, her wide blue eyes never leaving his.
"You're safe here."
He would have continued, but a ruckus from inside the tent behind them broke his train of thought. Turning, as did Kostbar and several others, his eyes fell on a pair of Faunus, rabbit ears poking out of their heads, babbling desperately at Dr. Goldman, where the old man was standing inside the tent. On a table between the three, a small bundle of blankets, which Pyrrhos could see were decorated with suns and cartoon rabbit heads like those of a child, trembled and fidgeted slightly. Dr. Goldman was looking down into the bundle with a serious expression, as he ran a bioscanner over it: another gift from Schnee.
"Please!" the male faunus shouted "Please, help my son! I'll do anything!"
Pyrrhos, releasing Kostbar's shoulder, stepped into the tent as the male turned to suddenly at his approach. He took a step back as Pyrrhos strode up to him: the Commander was easily a head taller than him, and more well-built on top of that. The Faunus was thin, and a pair of cracked glasses sat on his nose. A pajama shirt was loosely tucked into a pair of denim pants, and his shoes were worn and scuffed, clearly secondhand. The woman was little better, merely a coat thrown over what he could tell was a nightgown.
The Male's face was a picture of desperation, as the woman, who Pyrrhos presumed was his wife, came up and peered into the bundle, seemingly desperate to keep control of her own face as she patted it affectionately.
"PLEASE!" the man pleaded as he grabbed Pyrrhos' jacket "Please! Save my son! I'll do anything, just save him, PLEASE!"
"What happened?" Pyrrhos asked the two, his tone even, conciliatory. The Faunus's lips trembled as he met the taller Commander's gaze, his wife coming up next to her husband and gripping his sleeve in both hands. Pyrrhos could see just by their eyes that neither had slept in days. The male's voice took on a hitch of terror as he spoke.
"We were…we were run out of our home…Humanists…they came in the middle of the night...blamed us and the others for the CCT attack…called us White Fang Spies…they ransacked the town, burned down my house, threw us all out…"
"Shh, shh. It's alright. You're safe here. " Pyrrhos said as he placed a strong hand on the Faunus' shoulder. The man stared into his eyes, his pleading expression almost painful to look at. His bloodshot eyes were enlarged by the cracked lenses of his glasses, and his air was almost that of a begging child.
Gently easing the Mans' hands from his coat, he turned to the table where the bundle lay: the blankets had been pulled back, to reveal a young Faunus boy, barely out of toddlerhood, lying on his stomach. His breaths were shallow, his face red with fever, but his skin pale and sickly. The rabbit ears perched on his head drooped over the pillow. His oversized pajama shirt was pulled up to reveal a large patch of skin inflamed with red and black infection in the middle of his lower back. He was obviously in great pain.
"It's a spinal infection…he's…he's always had back problems…" the boy's mother hiccuped, as she turned her gaze down to her child.
"Does he have medicine?" Pyrrhos asked as he looked at the pair. The boys' father choked back a sob as his grip tightened around his wife, and he looked away in shame.
"We…we didn't have time…the house was already burning…the roof was collapsing, w-we didn't have time to grab it-!"
Placing a supportive hand on the man's shoulder for a moment, Pyrrhos cast a glance at Doctor Goldman, who sighed.
"I'm afraid there's little more I can do, sir. The spinal infection is severe, and without his medicine to go by, I can't replicate the drugs he was taking. He's already gone a week without them."
"Can you do anything else, Doctor?" Pyrrhos asked, turning his gaze back to the boy fighting for life before him. His little face was pinched, his lips barely open, his closed eyes seeming to beckon for comfort. Pyrrhos could tell just by looking at him that this was a kind boy; one who never complained…and who had suffered long enough for it to be justified if he did so.
the Doctor sighed again.
" I'm sorry sir…we just don't have the equipment for drug replication here... the best I can do is dull his pain. The new machinery hasn't arrived yet, shipping the materials from Thunderhawk base would take a few days, and…" he broke off as he looked down at the boy with a sad expression.
The message was clear: the boy didn't have a few days.
Behind the two, the boy's mother finally sobbed in desperation as she clutched her husband, who, with trembling lips, barely seemed in control himself.
Slowly, Pyrrhos ran a hand down the lad's brown hair, a comforting gesture, one his parents had often used on him. He felt the boy tremble under his hands…what a trooper, dealing with this pain for so long and not making a peep.
"I can."
Dr. Goldman stiffened, raising his head and staring at his superior in concern, his eyes widening as he saw a familiar expression on Pyrrhos' face. It was the same expression the man always had before he did something reckless…
"Sir…I know you can, but-"
"A Man has begged me to save his son." Pyrrhos said quietly, evenly, but with a touch of 'don't you dare stop me' in his tone "how can I do any less?"
"So soon after your…troubles, sir?" Goldman replied, his eyes set in a worried gaze.
"What?" the male Faunus asked "what is it? what can he do?"
Releasing his wife, he came up to the Commander, gripping his sleeve and looking up at him, hope glimmering in his eyes "what can you do?"
Pyrrhos met the man's gaze; saw a sputtering ember of hope blossom deep within his dark brown eyes. Flicking his gaze to Dr. Goldman, the older man minutely shook his head. He finally cast his jade eyes down to look at the youth's pinched face, as he slept an agonizing sleep.
"I can help your boy…" Pyrrhos replied at last, before turning a sympathetic gaze to the lad's parents
"But…I don't think you should watch."
[=]
Slowly, Dr. Goldman gazing back with a face full of concern, the boy's parents watching in equal parts worry and confusion as the doctor and a nurse herded them from the tent, Pyrrhos removed the black glove from his left hand. Sliding the black leather into his pocket, he flexed the freed fingers, which the two faunus could see were an inhuman pale white, in contrast to his face tanned through years in the bush.
And there seemed to be something embedded in his palm…
And then all sight of the interior of the tent was cut off as the flaps were pulled closed. Out of nowhere, two Defense force troopers, assault rifles slung across their chests, appeared and flanked either side of the portal. Their impassive black goggles and coal-scuttle helmets only contributed to an imposing demeanor that clearly said "do not pass." The boy's parents seemed to be on the verge of panic.
"What's going on?!" the mother cried as she grabbed Dr. Goldman's shirt "What is he doing to my boy?!"
the middle-aged doctor looked between the two with a sigh.
"Like he said…he's going to help him, the fool."
"What?!" the boys' father said as he pulled the doctor away from his wife, looking him in the eye with a fierce expression "Why would you want to stop him from doing that?!"
Dr. Goldman looked at the boy's parents, debating whether or not trying to explain what was about to happen to the exhausted pair was worth the effort.
Before the doctor could reply, however, the mass of people in the open area jumped in surprise as what sounded like a thunderclap boomed through the camp…emanating from the tent where the two Faunus had just left their boy.
Turning their eyes back to the tent, the two faunus watched with growing horror as an ethereal, rippling black light suddenly began to emanate from the bottom of the tent material, around holes and openings, and a dull roar began to echo from within the canvas walls. Kostbar, who had come closer to the two, jumped back in surprise as a bolt of black energy suddenly shot out of a hole in the tent, arcing into the ground with a puff of steam. Ghostly, ethereal figures seemed to rise from the tent like smoke, and then, tinny in the ears of the group….
The barely perceptible sound of a child whimpering…
"PETER!" the two rabbit Faunus cried as they dashed towards the tent, only to be held back by the troopers. Dr. Goldman came up and helped in the attempt to restrain them, but his eyes remained fixated on the tent as he muttered, his voice barely audible over the growing noise.
"The fool…the thick-headed, hero-complex fool…"
"Let me go!" the boy's mother screamed as she wrestled with the two guards "let me go! What is he doing to my baby?!"
"Helping him!" one of the troopers shouted back over the noise. Even as he spoke, however, He shot a glance to his partner, who met it with one of his own as the ground briefly trembled and a dull moan began to fill the ears of the assembled and growing crowd, clouds circling overhead like an oncoming storm: the Commander's power was always something to behold…and possibly dread, if you were on the receiving end. no one quite knew WHAT it was, a semblance, some dark power, black magic...a corrupted aura...
All the average member of Requiem knew was that the Commander only ever used his strange, mighty ability when he absolutely had to.
Then, as suddenly as the light and noise had come, as though someone flipped a switch, it vanished. The smoke clouds and rippling energy dissipated and faded out of existence, the dull moaning fell silent, and the arcing bursts of light dimmed.
And the Whimpering, barely audible in their ears over the noise, faded as well. The boy's parents, the guards and Dr. Goldman froze, a sense of trepidation filling the air…as the Commander shoved the tent flap aside.
For a long moment, the only sound filling the camp was the wind off the plains blowing through the canvas and plastic walls of the temporary buildings. The two Faunus stared at the tall figure who filled the small opening of the tent, his fists clenched and trembling, his face seeming to be struggling to remain impassive. If one knew him, and Dr. Goldman did, one would notice his face had gone almost as pale as his inhumanly white arm, and the bags around his eyes had darkened to be virtually black.
Slowly, staggeringly, he stepped away from the opening, the moon shining on his face as the clouds cleared as suddenly as they'd gathered…to reveal the table behind him, the bundle upon it shifting and moving. The two Faunus looked on, amazement filling their faces as they saw their son sit up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily as he looked towards them. They didn't notice-or care-as a small scattering of black rose petals blew off the table in the idle wind…and crumbled to dust as they hit the floor.
"Mommy? Daddy?" he said to their awed expressions as he yawned "Whaddis it? was I snoring?"
His mother's hands flew to her mouth, and his father rubbed at his own eyes in disbelief.
"P-Peter…" the male said, a hitch in his voice as his wife sobbed aloud"PETER!"
The guards released the pair as they dashed past the commander into the tent, scooping their son into their arms and all but smothering him with hugs and affectionate kisses. Behind them, Kostbar and the refugees stared in amazement: they had all known of the poor boy's pain…he'd slipped into a delirious state not long after he and his parents had joined the group, and many had gone out of their way to help him as best they could.
Now, to look at him, you'd think he'd never been sick.
The crowd moved towards the tent, excited and relieved murmurs filling the air as the two parents carried their son outside. His face was clear and healthy, and he nuzzled into his mother's neck as she continued kissing him over and over, his father holding them both close.
Dr. Goldman looked on, putting a smile on his face for any observers, before letting it drop as he turned to look on his superior.
Pyrrhos staggered away from the crowd surrounding the two, leaning on tent poles for support, a hand on his forehead as he lurched down the avenue. The old man trotted to the Commander's side as he collapsed into a camp chair that sat outside a nearby tent. His face was coated in sweat and he sucked in deep breaths as he pulled the black glove out of his pocket and managed to put it back on his hand. Goldman stood by until the glove was firmly in place…he'd treated several people who'd made the mistake of grabbing the Commander's 'ghost hand' immediately after he used it.
Two of them were still recovering at Thunderhawk base…he wasn't sure if they'd ever wake up.
He came out of his thoughts to look down at the Commander, who was leaning back, his head against the canvas of the tent, his green eyes-so dim, almost lifeless-gazing up at his Physician. The Doctor's face fell into a tired scowl.
"Was it worth it, sir?"
Pyrrhos said nothing as he continued sucking in breaths. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds: it was all he could do to remain conscious at the moment.
His "ghost hand" as he called it, was just one of many crimes he would need to avenge…for its truth was something too cruel for most to comprehend.
"Commander!"
Pyrrhos turned, slowly, to meet the tear-filled gaze of the Male Faunus, where he and his wife were holding their son. The man emanated awe and gratitude as he hugged his family close. His wife was focused entirely on their boy, kissing and squeezing him as he hid his shyness at the attention he was receiving in her breast.
Around him, the refugees and the camp members all looked at Pyrrhos in equal awe, even those who had seen him do this before. The male Faunus, his wet eyes bright, smiled broadly at him.
"…Thank you!"
For the first time that night, a sense of…inner calm seemed to come over the Commander. He nodded towards the man with a small smile coming to his lips as he watched the faunus turn back to his son, shameless tears falling from his eyes.
To bring someone back from the edge of losing everything…
"That." He said to Goldman "makes it worth it."
"If you say so, sir." The old man said with a cynical tone. Pyrrhos hmmph'd in reply: he'd brought Goldman into Requiem for his skills, not his attitude. Besides, in a sea of fawning sycophants, he enjoyed having someone around who was willing to tell him to his face that he was wrong.
Not that he always listened, he just preferred a different opinion to "yes Commander!" now and then.
"What was his name?" Pyrrhos idly asked, accepting a water bottle from a passing camp helper. Goldman looked back towards the Faunus family, who had been absorbed into the crowd, many of whom were being led towards the large barrack tents at the edge of the clearing.
"Scarlet, or something like that. They were never really coherent enough to tell me straight.'
"Hmm." Pyrrhos replied as he drank the bottle dry in a few gulps. He'd know soon enough: proper registers helped keep things in order, after all.
"If you'll excuse me, sir." Goldman said as he turned back towards the medical tent "I've got other patients to see, and I have to make sure your little lightshow didn't damage any of those nice new toys you managed to acquire."
Pyrrhos waved him off without a word, idly watching the doctor disappear back into the medical tent. A good man, Goldman.
heh.
"Dr. Goodman."
Before his exhausted mind could further make witticisms to keep him focused, a low rumbling suddenly echoed in his ears, coming closer to his position. Turning his head, he saw a large, dark green shape tear around the corner of the avenue, bearing down on his position. A figure was on its back, waving wildly.
"Commander!"
Pyrrhos peered up as the heavy transport truck skidded to a halt at his feet, Qray leaping from the bed. To his surprise, she had a wide smile on her face, something he rarely saw. The other men in the truck, a mix of troopers and diggers, mirrored her expression. He looked between them with confusion as he stood on still-shaky legs.
"What? What is it?"
Qray walked briskly up to him, wrapping him in a hug as her smile never wavered. He looked down at her, perplexed, as she spoke.
"Word from the dig site, sir…we've found it…!"
[=]
OC's as per the Color Rule:
Qray: Phonetically similar to "Gray"
Argent Shanmao: Silver Ocelot (French and Mandarin)
Breen Sin: Glacier Blue (Norwegian)
Dr. Goldman: Gold.
Kostbar: Golden (German, though referring to something precious or luxurious rather than the color) in reference to a "Golden Retriever" as per her dog features.