At times, Titian wondered how he got where he was in life. Here he was, living in a dank subway tunnel, fighting for his life and the lives of others at all hours; and he still felt as though his actions meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. No matter how many Grimm he killed, no matter how long he fought, things never got better. The whole thought of his situation was, in all honesty, rather depressing. He would often block out the monotonous life he led by escaping into his paintings. The way colors transformed from shapes to scenes of beauty and tranquility on the canvas, it was therapeutic.
This process, however, did not block out the incessant yammering and yelling of the other huntsmen around him. While he would have loved for all of them to shut their collective traps, Titian refrained from adding to the din of chatter with an outburst. He knew that everyone was stressed and needed an outlet and that they were all waiting eagerly for the upcoming sparring matches. Glynda had anticipated that tensions would be high between the warriors, and, so as not to cause another Grimm attack, organized fights as a way for people to blow off steam. She would referee them personally, to ensure that no one killed themselves, but aside from standard competition rules, anything was fair game. The matches were a good way for people to settle disagreements amicably and were useful for keeping one's skills sharp.
Titian was currently seated on a bench next to Azure in the front row of the makeshift stands that overlooked the arena. The two were waiting with bated breath for the first fight to begin. It was a duos match, featuring Moose and Gron versus Sky Lark and Dove Bronzewing of Team CRDL. The former Beacon students had challenged Team MGTA to a fight as a means to show off their strength. If they could take on one of the toughest huntsmen teams in the entire City of Vale, it would put them on top of their own imaginary leaderboard. Despite the fact that his wing had not healed yet, Gron agreed to the idea, claiming, "It could be fun. And, besides, I haven't had the chance to fight anything in weeks, I'm getting a little soft." Moose, after much thought, also accepted the rookies' challenge, but only to help relieve the stress of the rest of MGTA.
Titian glanced up from his work to look at Azure. She was the picture of giddiness, cheering on her husband and teammate in the ring in between mouthfuls of the instant noodle she was eating. Her gray and black tail was swaying left and right in a show of excitement. However, her jubilations were halted when, out of nowhere, Cardin Winchester dropped into the seat on her other side.
Beacon's renowned "bigot bully" had a smug grin plastered across his face, which was grimy and unshaven. If it weren't for the regal appearance of his armor, he could have been mistaken for a bum. Nearby stood Russel Thrush, Cardin's "partner in crime." His expression looked a little less mocking, and a little more like he was waiting for something to happen. At first, Cardin's gaze was on the ring but after a few moments, it shifted over to Titian and his faunus comrade.
"It's almost an insult for you guys to send a crippled animal to fight for you," he taunted. "But, hey, if you want us to break his other wing, who am I to deny your request?"
All of them could tell that struck a very sensitive nerve in Azure. She was proud of her faunus heritage and, generally, was quite vocal about her distaste for the White Fang and the image that they promoted. Although, she was equally so in her hatred for racists, more specifically, the vulgarism of "animal." To this, she would respond with violence, most of the time. However, much to everyone's surprise, she simply closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, signifying that she was attempting to let the insult slide. Titian considered stepping in to help her. She must have heard his thoughts, because she glanced towards him, shaking her head ever so slightly, indicating that she wanted to handle this on her own. Any sane individual would have taken the hint and counted their lucky stars that Azure didn't try to castrate them with her fork, but Cardin, either not smart enough to pick up on this fact, or not satisfied with the current level of racist he was being, decided to graduate from petty name-calling to full-on harassment.
He scooted closer to her, giving off the vibe that he was about to do something drastic. Then, in a single motion, he sealed his own fate by knocking her meal out of her hands. The amount of anger that Titian saw in Azure's eyes was frightening. Coupled with his previous insults, he was astounded that she hadn't broken his arm.
Winchester then proceeded to verbally abuse her further. "Whoops! Oh, sorry about that. But, I mean, none of it's really going to waste though, right?" he jeered. "What's the saying? 'It hits the ground, it goes to the hound?' So…No harm, no foul."
Azure clenched her fists, her knuckles turning bone-white, but kept on facing forward, never giving him the satisfaction of a rise.
Clearly annoyed by this, he continued, "Oh, C'mon, pup! You're not gonna do anything? No 'woof' or even a growl?" His heckling went on for several agonizing minutes until Glynda stepped into the center of the arena. At last, he realized that he wasn't getting through to Azure and left. "Fine, be that way…freak," he muttered as he stormed off with Russel in tow to find some other place to watch the fight.
Titian placed his hand on Azure's shoulder and asked, "Why did you just let him go on like that? Every other time someone's ever talked that way to you or any other faunus, you punched their teeth in."
"He was looking for a fight. That, or he wanted to rile me up before our match, to make me sloppy. Rest assured, he's gonna pay for that later, but right now, there's a sanctioned fight about to happen," she told him, reminding him of the last thing that any of them had heard Professor Ozpin say during the Vytal Festival. One last time, under her breath, she repeated, "He's gonna pay for that later."
A hush fell on the crowd of huntsmen and civilians when Glynda Goodwitch utilized her telekinesis to focus all of the spotlights on herself. "As I'm sure you are all aware, this is not a no-holds-barred fight. There are rules to these battles. As such, I feel as though it is necessary for me to relay them to you once more," A few exaggerated groans were heard from within the audience. "Firstly, all participants' Arua levels will be monitored, and when they reach a certain minimum, the fighter will be removed from the arena. Any attempts to re-enter a fight or attack a disqualified combatant will be seen as intent to cause harm to your fellow huntsmen and will be dealt with…severely. Second, the use of explosive Dust compounds or explosive weaponry is forbidden, I do not wish to spend the rest of my day digging all of you out from under a caved-in ceiling. Finally," she continued. "No one, under any circumstances, is to enter the arena while a fight is underway. If you do not agree with any of these restrictions, you are free to leave at any time. Now, if there are no questions, let the games begin."
With that, Glynda strode regally out of the ring, leaving Professor Port to officially begin the match. His boisterous, thundering voice echoed through the room as he introduced the combatants. "Well, it seems like we have an interesting match-up this time around. Here we have two of Beacon Academy's modern students pitted against the older, more experienced Beacon graduates," He paused to give the audience an opportunity to cheer. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Sky Lark and Dove Bronzewing of Team CRDL, versus Moose Bully and Gron Lakare of Team MGTA!"
The crowd roared with excitement and anticipation, eager to see if Beacon's students could hold their own against its graduates. Titian and Azure, however, were simply interested to find out how long Sky and Dove would last. "Fifty lien says they're out within two minutes," Azure bet. "What do ya think?"
Titian pondered for a moment, then answered, "Oh, what the hell. Alright, you're on."
"Combatants, ready your weapons," Port boomed. "Three. Two. One. Begin!"
Within an instant, Moose and Dove had dashed into the center of the ring. Their blades singing the shrill melody of steel on steel as they clashed. Sparks flew, and the swordsmen glared into each other's eyes. In a duel, one's mental skill was strained just as much as the physical. The first person to lose control of his mind and emotions was the first to go down.
"How long do you think you can keep up with me?" Moose hissed, trying to distract the young man. "You're dealing with the best swordsman to come out of Beacon."
It was obviously a bluff. Moose had nowhere near the level of skill he would need to match someone like Qrow Brawen. He was simply attempting to psyche his opponent out. However, it proved unsuccessful when a fist came out of nowhere and socked him in the jaw. The blow caused Moose to momentarily lose his stance. As a result, he was just barely able to block the follow-up slash with his pistol.
"I don't have to keep up," Dove spat back. "I just have to make sure you can't hit back."
Behind them, Sky had been intercepted by Gron while trying to flank them. However, he was a quick thinker and utilized his momentum to swing his halberd in a deadly sideways sweep. The buzzard managed to redirect the polearm with his own, gracefully sliding it around him. A maneuver which would have been extremely difficult to pull off with any other sort of weapon, because of the halberd's hook-like nature. But Gron's Pestilence was perfectly suited for a battle such as this.
Sky did not let up, however. Swinging the butt of his weapon rapidly, he was able to land a hit on the beak of Gron's mask, disorienting him. It was a solid hit, and Gron couldn't help but admire the young fighter's versatility in combat.
He spun around, using his green cloak to hide from his opponent's gaze and loaded a cartridge of Dust into his pitchfork's chamber. Once he was facing Sky again, Gron unleashed a cloud of Nature's Wrath, spicy fire flavored.
"Argh!" Sky cried as the infernal fog engulfed him, slowly eating away at his aura.
Anyone on the receiving end of this form of attack could attest to the fact that it was miserable. Most weapons caused severe pain that was over rather quickly. Pestilence did as well; however, over a longer period of time. It lived up to its name, giving one the feeling of being gradually killed by a plague.
Gron took a few steps back and prepared for the coming onslaught. Just in time, too. Sky shot out of the glowing red mist with renewed anger with his weapon pointed straight at Gron's head. The attack was sloppy and easily deflected. In a single, fluid motion, Gron knocked the halberd out away and jabbed the rounded tip of his pitchfork into Sky's gut. Although, the parry did little more than annoy him further, as his torso was clad in a firm, steel breastplate.
Unfazed, Sky managed to swing his left leg up and around in a kick aimed at Gron's right temple. Yet again, his offense was simply blocked. Gron wondered when he would learn that the direct approach would get him nowhere. All of a sudden, he felt a fierce, horrific pain in his left wing, the broken one. He had indeed figured that Gron outclassed him in a straight-up fight, and resorted to playing dirty. While he was distracted with the kick, Sky had slipped his weapon in a stabbing motion under Gron's arm, right into his injured, bandaged wing.
The audience reeled and gasped at the brutal strike. An animalistic scream of pure pain emanated from the mechanical bird mask. Gron crumpled to the ground, writhing in agony. And Sky took his chance to beat him mercilessly, stomping and kicking with no signs of remorse. Gron's aura-levels on the large holographic screen depleted more and more with every hit. It was awful, yet somehow it was still within the rules of the arena.
Finally, after several harrowing moments, Sky let up. The faunus was a battered, broken heap on the ground. If it weren't for the display, one would assume him dead. Satisfied with his handiwork, the student turned his attention to Moose and Dove, who were still grappling against one another. Neither of them had taken notice of the beatdown, as they were too engrossed in their duel.
Sky used this fact to his advantage by hooking Moose's hand with his halberd. He was taken by surprise when his saber was wrenched from his grip, clanging to the floor. Not having enough time to retrieve it, Moose ducked down and quickly unsheathed his hunting knife from its home in his boot. As he did, Dove took the chance to grab the fallen blade, dual-wielding it with his own.
Moose tried to survey his opponents, to find any kind of weakness he could exploit. There was no feasible way he could disarm them both without causing serious, irreparable damage. If he wasn't concerned about the boys' safety, there were tendons he could slice, bones he could break, or other fun kinds of harm he could inflict. But this wasn't a no holds barred fight. And these two weren't his enemies.
He attempted to get a shot off on Sky only to nearly catch a sword to the gut. It simply wasn't going to be able to fight them both head on. Taking a defensive stance, he steadily began walking back towards Gron's limp body. He intermittently shifted his gaze between Dove and Sky. Any time one would attack he was able to deflect it and dodge to oncoming follow-up strike from the other.
The battle had become a tense stalemate, but it was far from over. Moose simply needed a chance to come up with the perfect strategy. Eventually, he felt his leg brush against Gron, who was no longer merely a pile of broken faunus and feathers. The lanky man had managed to claw his way into a kneeling position. His breath was heavy and labored and dark green energy flickered across his body. His aura was fading. If he took one more hit he would be out of the match completely.
"What're you lookin' at?" he rasped. "I'm still in this."
Moose couldn't help but smile at his partner's resolve. Despite his sickly appearance, Gron could take a hit like a champ.
"Sorry buddy," Moose replied, narrowly avoiding a blade to the face. "I don't think you can help much here. We're kinda cornered. Well...actually, we're 'rounded.'" He gestured to the walls of the circular arena.
Gron sighed. A sound that was quite strange indeed coming out of his mask. "You're an idiot," he said. With grunts and groans aplenty, the faunus somehow managed to reach a posture that resembled standing. Albeit very uneasy standing. He wobbled back and forth as he struggled to maintain balance by leaning on Pestilence. "I said I'm still with you, and I meant it. Now get ready."
With a flick of his wrist, a dense cloud of white smoke spewed out of the pitchfork and enveloped the pair. To the naked eye, vision in the smog was nearly impossible. But to Gron, with his enhanced faunus senses and his breathing mask's new thermal vision, it was clear as crystal. He locked his gaze on Sky, who he had deemed the more cunning of the two imbeciles, and focused.
With what little aura he still possessed, Gron activated his semblance. Quarantine was the name Team MGTA had given it. Simply by focusing on an individual, Gron could inflict overwhelming headaches, nausea, fatigue, and vertigo. It was almost as if they had been infected with some sort of plague. The downside was that Gron experienced the symptoms as well as his victim. Although, over years of training, he had become somewhat accustomed to them and could bear them a bit more.
As soon as the aura-induced ailments hit him, Sky fell to his knees, clutching his head as though it were going to explode. He screamed and writhed in agony, but Gron didn't let up. He was punishing the kid for his foul play. But that didn't mean he didn't respect his creativity.
As he watched the boy suffer under the effects of his semblance, Gron too felt the sickness flow over him and nearly fell once again. Reaching over, he tapped Moose on the shoulder, signaling him to attack.
The mustachioed woodsman leaped forward with dizzying speed and ferocity. Taking advantage of Dove shifting his attention to Sky, Moose was able to slip past his defenses rather easily. In a single, fluid yet brutal motion, he slammed the butt of his pistol into Dove's temple and knocked Sky unconscious with a well-placed kick to the jaw. Within seconds the remaining huntsman-in-training was disarmed, both swords clattering to the ground. His blue eyes widened as his legs were swept out from beneath him. And when he hit the ground, he felt the cold bite of a razor-sharp knife against his throat.
"Give up," Moose commanded. "It's over."
Despite it all, his confidence was still relatively intact, "Go to hell."
The audience was shocked by the drastic turn-around that the match had taken. Sky and Dove went from having victory within their grasp to defeat in the span on thirty seconds.
"Do you really want to test me?" Because from where I'm sitting, you're outnumbered," Moose was no longer bluffing. Dove had most certainly lost the fight. "And not to mention the fact that Gron here can do the same thing to you as he did to your buddy. Trust me, if that happens, you'll stand even less of a chance at beating us. Not that it wouldn't be entertaining."
The threat of Gron's semblance was enough to shake the kid's resolve a bit. His defiant expression shifted to one of concern.
"Now, it's your move. How do you want this to go down?" Moose put a little more pressure on his neck with the knife.
The action combined with his fear of Quarantine was the straw that broke the camel's back. Dove clenched his eyes shut and muttered, "Alright...I give up."
Moose shook his head. "Again. So they can hear you," he said, gesturing to the silent crowd.
He threw his hands up in a display of surrender. "I give up!"
The deafening silence continued as people tried to process everything that had transpired. Gron had gone from being dead to the world to saving Moose from Frick and Frack. And Moose had forced the foolhardy and headstrong Dove Bronzewing to concede with a few whispered threats. When it finally sank in, some members of the audience began clapping, others cheered. Within seconds, the entire crowd had erupted into applause.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our winners!" Port shouted into the intercom. "In an astounding turnaround, Moose Bully and Gron Lakare of Team MGTA are victorious!"
Titian looked over to Azure, a grin plastered on his face. "I don't know about you, but my stopwatch counts that as seven minutes and thirty-four seconds," he bragged, stretching out a hand. "Pay up, Newfond. Fifty lien."
The wolf-tailed woman grumbled as she reluctantly dropped a handful of cards in Titian's palm. "Hope you choke on it...Smug bastard."
As the adrenaline began to wear off, Gron slowly fell to the ground but was caught by Moose at the last moment.
"You did good, buddy," he said. "That was some pretty quick thinking there."
"Yeah," Gron wheezed. "...Hope you got a kick out of it, cause I will not be doing that again. Also, quick side note, I think my lungs are trying to commit suicide."
As they exited the arena, the pair were nearly tackled to the ground by an overly-enthusiastic Azure. She laughed with delight as she crushed them with a ferocious bear(well..wolf)-hug.
"I knew you could do it!" she squealed, which was, admittedly, a bit odd for her.
Moose chuckled as she released them. "Yeah, it looked a little touch-'n-go there for a bit. But Gron brought it back."
"Oh you bet your life I did," Gron said. "Don't think I'm not too humble to admit that I did all the work there."
"I think that kid may have hit you a little harder than we thought, Lakare. Because you're talking crazy."
"I refer you to my previous statement. You're an idiot," Gron's breathing was slowing down and he was beginning to stand up without the aid of Pestilence. It wasn't a secret that faunus' auras regenerated faster than humans', but Gron's natural healing rate was astounding thanks to his regular use of herbal medicines.
"Alright, alright, as much as I would love to debate Moose's mental capacity," Titian said as he joined the group. "Azure and I have to get going. Our match is up next, and you know how anal Glynda is about punctuality."
Azure's attitude immediately shifted to a more serious one. "Right, I've got a few things to drive home with Cardin."
Moose nodded. "Okay, we'll go find some seats. Give 'em hell, honey." He and Azure shared a quick kiss before they all parted ways.
With a quick round of 'goodbye's and 'good luck's, Team MGTA's artistic swordsman and brutal warrioress walked into the ring for their own sparring bout. Their opponents were to be Cardin Winchester and Russel Thrush. This match was certain to be entertaining. And, more importantly, Azure would get some well-earned payback.
