[IX] The Old Man Of The Sea
Tawney Lukoje's chestnut complexion made her look like she belonged somewhere where the sun shone bright and the air was warm, as opposed to the chill of Solitas. And to be honest, she would prefer to be somewhere like that. She was bundled up under a thick khaki overcoat that felt like it was made out of recycled old man pants. Her large, brown-furred ears were tucked warmly between the winter hat (whose pom-pom she found to be absurd) and her sandy colored hair, the longest tips of which just brushed against her ears. In this case, only the right ear faced constant tickling, as she had parted all of her hair to that side this morning. She stood at the end of the long walkway in front of her house. Technically, it belonged to the old man, Albatross. And technically, he wasn't her real dad, but he might as well be, even if their relationship was more like a master to apprentice type of deal. Tawney had lived here for more than the majority of her life. About… whatever percent five-ninths was, if she was being precise. She knew what happened to young girls without families in Vacuo. So she was grateful that the old man had taken her under his wing.
She shivered in the cold. But maybe he could have taken her under his wing… somewhere not as cold? For Tawney, ten years wasn't long enough to acclimate to the weather. She leaned on her shovel. For a place known for it's snow, she would think the people would learn to just walk over it, but no, here she was, shoveling the cobblestone again. She looked up when she heard an airship. To see an airship of any size in the skies over Drydock was a rare sight indeed. Anything people wanted was over in the east, at Atlas, hell, even in Mantle, occasionally. But not this far. Drydock was barely a dot on the map. In fact, she recalled, on most maps it wasn't even marked.
The airship's engines grew louder as it flew over the ironically wet docks that gave the town it's name. She laughed to herself. This had to be the most exciting day this month! An actual real life airship? She cast those sarcastic thoughts aside. She didn't often admit it, but she actually liked the quiet life here with the old man. She used to spend most of her days either helping around the house, or lending her hand on the old man's dainty little boat. Recently however, she'd found a job in the in the general store near the center of town. She liked to think she got the job due to her feminine charm. She nearly snorted, making herself laugh like that. Tawney sighed. Feminine charm? You gotta be kidding me, she thought. Though, honestly there was a good chance that in this town of sailors, a pretty face like herself probably brightened the decor a little. She burst out laughing again.
The airship's engines grew louder still. Tawney opened her eyes, from her bout of laughter, and looked up. The airship was flying startlingly low. She got a good look at it. This wasn't some private civilian transport. It was a military. Atlas military. Carrying some kind of… truck..? What was a military aircraft doing here? Surely it couldn't be anything good. To her astonishment, the aircraft slowed as it neared her.
The downdraft from the airship's engines blew loose snow around wildly as it flew overhead. She looked down the walkway she had just shoveled. Half of it was covered by a layer of snow, again.
"Aw, c'mon!" She exclaimed. "What the hell? I just finished!" She looked at the Atlesian aircraft. It was decending.
Right into her backyard.
Tawney ran around the side of the house, her mind racing. She knew the old man was a retired naval officer, but he was just that. Retired. What good was the fifty-nine year old man to the Atlesian military? Why were they here? These questions and more ran through her head as she watched the rear ramp to the aircraft opened. An unfamiliar and silver haired young man disembarked, leaping into the snow. His eyes were concealed by a visor of metal and blue glass, and his light grey jacket had a hood that Tawney noticed as he turned around. This wasn't an Atlesian soldier. Atlesian soldiers didn't wear sweatpants. The worry in her mind faded, but it was quickly replaced by confusion. A blindfolded woman followed him, landing in next to him. She wore a grey fur lined coat, but she was barefoot. Tawney though that was a bit dumb of her. Another young man leapt out of the aircraft. He was the shortest, she noted, shorter even than the barefoot woman. The only noteworthy clothes he wore were his loose purple jacket, and the single metal kneepad on his right leg. The fourth and final figure emerged from the airship, and dropped from the ramp. His scarf fluttered upwards as he fell. When he landed, his knees buckled under him, and the blindfolded woman had to catch and help him up. Back on solid footing, the fourth figure raised his head, and Tawney recognized his tall face. Then she noticed the blood soaked into his dark shirt.
The door to the house opened behind Tawney, and she heard the familiarly loud voice of Cpt. Albatross.
"Is that you, Brinewater?" He yelled with the staccato tone of issuing a command. She watched as Stick snapped to attention, before he coughed and bent over. "Come in, make yourself at home! ...no need to stand at attention, son. "
"Do your parents know you're back yet, Brinewater?" the old man asked, placing Stick's torn-up shirt back on the table. Ferris Albatross's greying hair held tightly to his younger days, refusing to let the man become anything other than a naturally vibrant redhead. Hints of orange still dotted the top of his head amongst the dull grey of age.
"Not yet." Stick said, from across the dining room table. Now, normally being shirtless at the table was unacceptable, but at the moment Stick had just finished tying a final bandage around his abdomen, so nobody brought it up.
"They might want to hear that their son is alright." the retired captain said. He looked at the bandages wrapped around the lower half of his guest's torso.
"...or alive, at least..." he corrected himself. "After what happened to Vale, the word floating around is that Atlas is two steps from locking down the entire kingdom."
Stick leaned over and rummaged through the dull, olive duffle bag on the floor next to his chair. After a moment, he pulled out a black tank top. He stood up by pushing himself out of the wooden seat. Once standing, Stick lifted his arms with a wince of pain, and pulled the article of clothing over his head. The fabric fit his slender frame tightly, and he let out a slow breath.
"I'll send them a letter." Stick finally responded. He gathered up the loose first aid kit and packed it back into the red canvas case he had taken it from. The captain said nothing. Stick handed the restored kit to Tawney, who stood beside him.
"Thank you." he said as he handed it off.
Tawney accepted the canvas case and spun on her heel. She passed through the empty doorway that led into the long hallway that extended from the from the dining room to the front door. She passed the white haired woman, standing in the doorway as she stepped into the hall. As Tawney walked past the young woman, she had the odd sensation of making eye contact with whatever eyes laid behind the blindfold. For someone who was blind, she sure did a lot of looking. Tawney looked the snake faunas up and down quickly. There weren't many faunas out here in Drydock. Her apparel said Mistral. But what Tawney wondered was if all women in Mistral wore their clothing so open, and revealingly. Probably not, she thought. The pale figure in front of her probably just didn't care what people saw. She was blind, after all.
Tawney slid the door to the coat closet open and placed the first aid kit on the floor next to her snow boots. She stood up and closed the sliding door slowly, and stretched to her full height, which wasn't that tall, in all honesty. She ran a hand through her sandy colored hair, then pressed the tall, tan furred ears that poked out from it down flat. They sprung back up the instant she let go and twitched.
A second hallway ran perpendicular to the the one she stood in. It started just before the staircase to the second floor and extended a dozen or so feet. It lead to the first floor bathroom, the guest room, and Albatross's bedroom. Up the stairs, the second floor had three rooms. A second bathroom, attic storage, and then Tawney's own bedroom. To her right, back on the first floor, was the living room, two couches set up in an L shape along back wall, with a coffee table fitting nicely in front of them both. A single cushioned chair in the opposite corner of the room. Next to the reclining chair, the television was set on a low wooden cabinet.
Tawney strolled back down the hall, and into the kitchen. The kitchen shared the same long space as the dining room, and the only marker to separate them was a granite countertop peninsula that extended into the center of the room from the back wall. The silver one stood leaning over the counter, from the dining room side. Albatross sat across from him, and examined the young man's (he couldn't be any more than a boy, Tawney was seventeen, and she still considered herself a girl…), blue stained glass visor.
Tawney made her way to the fridge and opened the lower door. She scanned the shelves for a moment. Behind her, she heard the old man speaking.
"I've never seen one of these before, uh…" He snapped his fingers, as he tended to when he was trying to recall something. "Nickelas? That's your name?" the retired captain asked.
"Nickelas Mirino" the younger one answered, with a nod.
"Your parents happen to name you after the ol' Schnee?" Albatross asked.
"Nope," Nickelas said, shaking his head. "In fact, I actually spell it differently." Albatross nodded his head in understanding, and looked down at the piece of technology in his large, calloused hands.
You make this yourself?" He asked.
"I did." Nickelas answered. "You're holding the sixth model, right now." The old man's eyes widened.
"You made six of these things, by yourself?" He asked, "That's pretty impressive, son." A small smile spread on Nickelas's face.
"You should have seen the first one, sir." He said with sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "Old headphones, some mirrors, a calculator… And a whole lot of gaff tape. I'll never forget all that gaff tape." Albtross winced slightly at the words.
"That tape is the work of pure evil." He said, handing the visor back to it's owner.
"Believe me, sir, I know." Nickelas said, the smile of recollection taking over his face.
Thyst put his fork down next to a now-empty plate.
"The food they served at Beacon was good, but I've never eaten anything quite like this, Tawney." He said, breathing deeply as he rested his hand against his stomach. "Albatross sure is lucky to have you here." Across the table, Stick held his stomach in a similar manner, but for a different reason. Tawney looked at Thyst from one end of the table.
"If I wasn't, I bet the old man would starve, honestly." Tawney said with a grin.
Albatross's laugh was deep from the other end of the table. He had the type of laugh that was naturally comforting to almost anyone who heard it. Once he was done chuckling, he closed his eyes and spoke.
"She speaks the truth, I'm afraid. Half of my younger years were living on Atlas's rations, after all." He said, waving his knife in the air as he spoke. Nickelas sat next to Thyst, his plate thoroughly cleaned, with a pleased look on his face. Across from him, Magnolia had left a small portion of her food on the plate. Her team still didn't know if she did this at meals because she had a small stomach, or if it was just a common practice she was raised with. Stick had started to think it was both.
"So, Mr. Albatross. Stick tells me that you're former Atlesian Navy..." Thyst began. The old man nodded.
"Though, I like to think that once I'm part of the Navy, I'm always part of the Navy. I never truly leave." Albatross interrupted.
"Of course." Thyst said, nodding, "How long, exactly, did you serve?"
"Well…" the retired soldier counted a bit in his head. "I officially joined the forces at eighteen, and was honorably discharged at thirty-two, so that means fourteen years, unless I'm mistaken." he mused on his life a moment, "I haven't worn the uniform for nearly twenty-two years… oh, how times flies…"
Thyst watched as the man began to sink into his own mind.
"If that's the case, sir, then how did you meet Stick, here?" Thyst asked, motioning towards Stick with his hand. Albatross shook his head, and focused.
"Ah, yes, well, technically I met Acheron, that's Mr. Brinewater, first." Albatross said. "I'm sure Stick has told you of his family business?" he inquired.
"The shipping and transportation company, yeah." Nickelas interjected.
"Right, 'Come Hell or Brinewater, we deliver'." Albatross recited, waving his knife through the air again. "I met Acheron Brinewater here in Drydock shortly after I moved here. See, we don't have many supplies out here, so most of the residents rely on the Brinewater company to deliver us simple things like the mail, or items to keep our stores stocked with anything but fish." he explained. "Eventually, I learned that the man who would deliver our supplies personally, had just helped his wife deliver something a bit more important than toilet paper and bread." he continued. "And that's the first time I heard about Stick. Then he started joining his dad on delivery jobs, all the way from Mantle. Long journey for a kid of his age…" Albatross leaned in and spoke in a half whisper. "...I think that's when his dad started letting him drive. And put him behind the wheel of such big trucks too…" Stick smiled as Albatross said this. Then Albatross sat back in his chair. With his eyes closed, he continued speaking. "Next time I saw Stick, really, was at the academy. I used to go and speak to the students occasionally. Haven't done that for years now, either…" Albatross reflected. "Then, well, I stopped seeing you for a while, Stick. Until I received word that you had gone to Beacon to finish your training." Albatross opened his eyes and looked at Stick. "Though, I'm a little disappointed you didn't make team leader, Stick." Albatross stared silently for a moment, then he chuckled. "I joke." He said. "I know enough about Headmaster Ozpin to know that he makes the the right choices. I'm sure he picked you for a good reason, Thyst."
Thyst nodded silently, and Albatross put his hands on his knees.
"Sorry we don't have any dessert to offer, but I'm sure you can understand that Tawney and I weren't expecting guests." Albatross said as he stood up from the table, taking his plate with him. He walked sideways to fit between Thyst, Nickelas, and the wall, passing the invisible barrier between dining room and kitchen. Albatross put the plate and silverware in the sink and gave them a preliminary rinsing under a few seconds of warm water.
"I'm curious to know what brought you here, but I won't ask. If I really need to know, then you'll tell me. For now, you four should get some sleep." Albatross looked at Stick a moment, "You look like you've had a rough day."
"A rough couple of weeks might be more accurate, sir." Nickelas said. Magnolia nodded in agreement.
"There's only one bed in the guest room." Tawney said, from her end of the table, "So you four are going to have to figure that situation out, yourselves."
Albatross was seated at the granite countertop on the kitchen side. He held his coffee in one hand and a novel in the other. Violet's Garden, it was called. It wasn't his usual taste in genres, but he admitted that this novel could be regarded as thought provoking, at times. After his retirement, he had taken up the hobby of reading to fill his time. Over the years, he had built up quite the pile of finished books. There was a certain pleasure to be had in immersing himself in the worlds that stories built for him. Not to mention to irresistible smell of print on paper. It was the scent of pure ecstasy. He heard floorboards creaking, and looked up from Violet's Garden. Stick was walking down the hall, towards the kitchen.
"Morning, Brinewater, you sleep well?" Albatross asked. Stick hadn't. He'd had trouble falling asleep the night before. The pain wasn't the problem either, his mind had just been agitated. He placed a hand over his wound and nodded, however.
"Well enough" Stick said, only half-lying "I'm already feeling better."
"Well, if you need it, I've made plenty of this life-giving liquid." Albatross said, swirling his coffee mug in the air.
"I'm fine, Albatross. Thank you." Stick said, as he sat on a the stool next to the retired captain, placing his elbows on the counter, and resting his head in his hands. Albatross returned to his book, taking a sip of coffee as he scanned the page to find where he had left off.
"You wouldn't happen to have any tools I could borrow around the house, would you?" Stick asked suddenly, turning his head to look at Albatross.
"Working on that dropship?" Albatross asked in return.
"That's the plan." Stick answered. Albatross nodded, looking out the window at the dark painted, unmarked Atlesian dropship. He wondered how Stick was able to get his hands on one of those models. Albatross took a sip from his coffee and pointed to under the kitchen sink.
"In there." the retired captain said. People were entitled to their secrets. If anybody knew that, it was Albatross.
"Thank you." Stick said, as he pushed himself up from the countertop.
"Though, those tools are more suited for repairing a washing machine." Albatross pointed out, without looking up from the book. "I'm not sure how much success you'll have with them, working on a beauty like that one you landed in my yard."
Stick squatted down in front of the pair of cabinets, and opened them.
"I'll make due." Stick said, searching through the tool box he found inside. "Thank you."
"No issue at all." Albatross said, sipping his coffee. Just then, another squeak come from down the hall. He looked up, and Nickelas was the next one to make their way into the kitchen.
"Good morning, sir." Nickelas said. Albatross pulled the bookmark from behind his ear, and slid it into the book.
"Morning, Nickelas." he said, as he placed his book on the counter and turned to face the new arrival. "Now, I appreciate all of your respect, son, but you're not one of my soldiers. You don't need to keep calling me sir."
"I'll keep that in mind, s-" Nickelas cut himself off. "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."
Nickelas approached the counter top, sitting opposite from the retired captain. Albatross watched as the silver haired boy took off his small bag, and removed the visor from yesterday.
"Do you mind if I plug this in?" Nickelas asked.
"Go ahead." Albatross answered. He watched as Nickelas pulled out a long, white cable. He plugged one end into a wall socket, and the other, smaller end into the piece of advanced mobile technology.
"Thank you." Nickelas said, "It hasn't charged properly in nearly two weeks." Albatross nodded. Quite a long battery life, he noted. This little device was becoming ever more impressive the more he learned about it. Nickelas placed the visor on the countertop and sat down.
"So, Thyst and I were talking, and we decided it would only be fair that we told you a bit about why we're here." Nickelas said. Albatross nodded, putting his coffee down.
"I'm listening." the old captain said.
"Well," Nickelas began, "Normally, it would be outside of our jurisdiction to come this far north for any missions, but without the CCT, we couldn't exactly hand off the information we had gathered to Atlas, so we considered the options and the risks, and… long story short, sir, we had a lead, and we came here to deal with a certain Grimm threat." Nickelas summarized. "You know about the islands to the west of here?" He asked.
"I'm a fisherman, now, Nickelas. Of course I know about the islands in the sea." Albatross said.
"Yes, yes, of course…" Nickelas mumbled, "I should have assumed that…" He look at Stick, who was currently halfway under the sink. "What was the man's name again, Stick?"
"Reed." Stick answered. "Think of him as an entrepreneur."
"Yes well, this, this Reed, he told us, well, he told Stick, that some of his men had gone missing near one of the islands on the way back from signing a deal in Mantle, that they had been attacked by some kind of 'big Beowolf'".
"Sounds like Fenrir, to me." Albatross said.
"Fenrir?" Nickelas asked.
"Oh, just an old sailor's tale," Albatross answered. "We use it to keep people away from Wedgewood Island. If that refueling station ever started up again, it'd pollute the water. Polluted water means no fish, and no fish means the majority of Drydock has no income. Of course, I had always thought it was just a story. Are you telling me that six legged horror is real?"
"I wouldn't lie to you, s-" Nickelas said, catching himself before he finished the last word. "And if not, I think Stick's injury is proof enough?"
Albatross was silent for a moment.
"I think I can put the rest of the story together myself, Nickelas." Albatross said, then took a sip from his coffee. "Thank you."
Nickelas smiled, and sat silently for a few moments. Then he stood up, leaving his visor on the counter, and walked around the countertop to where Stick was emerging from under the sink.
"What are you now, a plumber?" Nickelas asked.
Stick stood up, carrying a metal box by it's handle. He handed Nickelas a wrench with his other hand.
"No, but you're about to be my junior mechanic." Stick said.
"We're the same age!" Nickelas exclaimed. Stick didn't respond.
"Would you be so kind as to get the door, Magnolia?" Stick asked.
"Certainly." Magnolia voice said from behind Albatross. The captain spun around, and found himself a few inches from the girl's white hair. His eyes darted to the hallway, then back to the white haired girl. How did she..? But the floorboards always squeaked…
"Oh, everyone's already awake." Thyst said, coming down the hall. "Nice." The floorboards squeaked under his feet. "Good morning, Mr. Albatross."
"Yeah…" the old man said, distractedly, "Good morning…"
With all four members of team TSNM outside, and Tawney still presumably asleep upstairs, Albatross once again sat alone with his coffee and his book. Albatross looked out the window at the team. He watched as they moved about, crowded around the dropship, working and laughing amongst themselves. Maybe he shouldn't have told them the Grimm's name, maybe he should've played dumb. He put the Violet's Garden novel down, closed his eyes, and sighed. These were four, clearly skilled Huntsmen. He didn't need to treat them like children. So they know about Fenrir, he thought. At least they got off the island alive, people who went to Wedgewood didn't normally come back at all. Of course Fenrir was real, Albatross knew that for a fact, long before the story had started circulating. He had started it himself. So what if they had encountered the Grimm, as far as they were concerned, this was an isolated incident. Fenrir was just an anomaly. They didn't know the full story. They didn't realize how much larger than them this whole thing really was. Albatross opened his eyes, and his gaze fell on Nickelas's visor.
His hand extended compulsively outward, and hovered above the device.
He pressed the button Nickelas had shown him, to turn it on. The inside of the glass came to life with little markings of light, impossible to read from this angle. His finger slid along the controls, until he found the next button he was looking for. His breathing was steady, as he pressed it. The markings on the visor blurred, then after a second's delay, a cone of light projected the visors contents into the space in front of Albatross, suspended holographically.
He saw a word he had prayed that he wouldn't.
"Lullaby…" He whispered, his voice wavering. There had to be some explanation. These couldn't be real. He tried opening one of the files. It contained garbled, unreadable text. He went back, and opened another file. The same thing. So they hadn't read anything…
Nickelas had said he had he could communicate through the visor, right? So it had a microphone. Albatross could check. If these were real then he could check who had accessed them.
Albatross steadied his breathing once more and gulped, composing himself.
"OIA, this is Captain Albatross, Atlesian Navy. Authentication code five-one-november-six, dash, tango-zero, dash, uniform-five."
For a moment, nothing happened while Albatross looked on in silence. Then slowly, the digital files began to shift, of their own accord, before his very eyes. The files moved across the screen, coalescing into a single mass in the center the projection, to form a small, pulsating dot of light. The small monotone female voice that came through Nickelas's visor was unfortunately familiar. The mere sound of the voice confirmed Albatross's fears.
"Greetings Captain." the voice said, from the visor. "How may I assist?"
"Oia, what is your assigned designation?" Albatross asked the light.
"I have no current designation." the visor responded. Albatross was ready with the follow up question before the visor had finished speaking.
"What was your previous designation, before the transfer?" he asked
"My last assigned designation was 'Hourglass', Captain." the visor answered,
"When were you last accessed?"
"I underwent an unauthorized transference to an unrecognized system twenty three days ago, however, I was not activated."
"Who was the last person to access you?" He asked, then before the light could respond, he added, "Before the unauthorized transfer?"
"Colonel Willis is currently Missing in Action."
Albatross felt the tug of memories. He had liked Willis.
"Oia, mark Colonel Willis as KIA."
"Notation complete."
"Thank you, Oia."
"You are welcome, Captain."
If Willis was the last person to access this OIA, then that meant- Albatross heard the back porch steps groaning. Damn, he loved this old house. The footsteps grew closer, as they approached the door from outside.
"Oia," Albatross said urgently, "Lockdown, now."
"Aye, Captain. Entering Lockdown state." The ball of light responded, quietly dissipating, and separating into the appearance of multiple files once more. Albatross was able to turn the visor off, slid it across the counter, and pick up his book, just in time for the door to open behind him.
"You were right, Captain." Stick's voice said from the open door. "These tools don't work for jackshit."
Albatross turned around, and kept his composure.
"Hm..?"
"Is that hardware store - you know the slogan… 'So you won't get screwed over' - are they still open?" Stick asked. Albatross looked up, and scanned all four of their faces.
"Yes… They are." the old captain said. "But, we need to talk first."
