Lifeblood
100 follows guys! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Or what's left of it. Either way, thank you for the continued support, and I will do my best to keep it up! Starting with this!
(Insert disclaimer here)
Chapter 10: The Long Arm of the Outlaw
One thing that Yang had come to greatly appreciate about life at Beacon was the food. It seems like such an ordinary requirement, but really, all Huntsmen were humans and Faunus as well. They needed to eat, and they need to eat a lot more than a normal person due to their very active lifestyle. Even Ruby, petite as she was, could easily eat more than two grown men put together,
Beacon has graciously accommodated the needs of hundreds of teenage Huntsmen by offering food during the entire day, except after lights out. As well as that, it wasn't just any old freeze-dried and deep-fried crap you find in fast-food joints. The cafeteria provided full course meals that can cater to any diet as chosen by the student.
So one could understand why she thought that anyone who interrupted her meal time for the idiotic purpose of hurling racist remarks at her friend, deserved a pounding. Especially if their names started with the letters C, D, R or L.
"Yang, don't do anything rash." Velvet cautioned.
"Don't worry, Velvs, I've given this a lot of thought." Yang growled and cracked her knuckles. Just as she was about to stand up to give those chortling morons a piece of her mind, she was yanked down by her partner. "Blake?!"
"Sit down. Velvet's right, nothing will change if you just go and beat them up."
"Well, why not?!" Nora whined. "I say we break their le- mmph!" Any further declarations of bodily harm were quickly supressed by Ren stuffing a baked potato in her mouth.
"I, for one agree with Velvet." Weiss gave her own opinion. "If anything, if you interfere, their harassment will only get worse. Besides, its just words. Even CRDL isn't stupid enough to assault a second year. I think." she added uncertainly.
Jaune snorted. "You got that right. Our girl Velvet can kick their asses blindfolded." he said while pulling the rabbit Faunus into one armed hug.
"That is if the rest of Team CFVY don't get to them first." Ruby chimed in.
"Oh, yeah." Jaune chuckled. Jaune, Yang and Ruby had met the illustrious Team CFVY once before and they had made quite the impression. "Speaking of which, where are those guys? They're not having lunch?"
"The life of a second year is tough, Jaune. Enjoy your first year while you can."
"Is it really that busy?" Pyrrah asked.
"You guys have no idea." Velvet sighed. "I'd love it if we were all together, but we agreed to take breaks whenever we can and our classes don't always sync up."
"Forget that, I want a reason why I shouldn't go over there and pound their faces in." It wasn't the first time Yang had asked that question. "Team CRDL had been complete dicks since day one and they're getting out of control."
"Yang, violence will just make their hatred worse." Velvet chided her. "Believe me, they'll grow out of it very soon."
"How do you know?" asked Pyrrha, with doubt obvious in her voice.
"Because if they don't, they'll be forced out of Beacon." Velvet's answer shocked them all.
"Can... can that really happen?" Ruby asked.
"I've seen it happen. Think about it. Around 20% of Remnant's population are Faunus, and 40% of all Huntsmen are Faunus." Velvet explained. "No matter how skilled someone is as a combatant, not a single one of the Academies would ever let them out on the field if they refuse to co-operate with Faunus. They could jeopardize the lives of their comrades, and even civilians."
Velvet said nothing for a few moments to let her statement sink in before speaking again. "Besides that," she looked over to Team CRDL, who were all laughing obnoxiously. "Those guys really don't have anything against Faunus."
"Are we talking about the same guys, Velvet, 'cause it sure looks like those knuckleheads have a bone to pick." Jaune glanced at the thuggish group as well.
"If they really did have something against me, or anyone like me, believe me it would so much worse. No, I think their racism is really just a result of ignorance and influence." Velvet gained a sad look on her face, one that spoke of years of experience. "There will come a time where they will be given a choice, and I choose to believe they will make the right one."
"Do you honestly believe that?" Yang looked at her partner, who had stayed silent up until now. She had an unreadable look on her face, which Yang would think nothing of normally, but her clenched fists gave her a cause for concern.
Velvet didn't stay anything for a while, merely looking hard at Blake. After a few moments she smiled. "Yes, I do believe it. Naive as it may sound, I choose to look for the best in people. I choose to put my faith in that instead of being caught in more hatred."
Yang was getting the distinct feeling that she was missing something between Velvet and Blake, judging by her partner's sudden increase in tension. Suddenly, Blake slapped down her fork and picked up her tray. "I'm heading to the library. Meet you guys in class." she said curtly.
"Blake, wait. What's the matte-" Yang's attempt to stand was interrupted by Velvet placing a hand on her shoulder to push her back in her seat. "Velvs?"
"I think Blake is going to need some time alone, for now." she said gently.
"You know something I don't?" The way Yang said it made it hard to tell if that was a question or not.
"Don't worry, Yang. I'm sure Blake will talk to you about whatever's bothering her when she's ready." Normally, Yang would've shrugged off the advice, but she couldn't ignore the knowing look in Velvet's eyes, and she felt the sincerity in her words.
"If you think so." Yang reluctantly sat back down.
"I know so." Velvet gave her that look again, that look that made her feel like she was a child learning the facts of the world again. Only Velvet could get away with giving her that look. "Trust me, every team has a few... kinks to work out. But if it's you guys, I'm sure it'll be no problem."
Vale Council Chairman Liseran staggered into his luxurious high-rise apartment with a sigh. What a day. For the past three weeks, every single meeting had related to the nearing Vytal Festival one way or another. It was a very prominent downside to what would be a prosperous opportunity for Vale. But the amount of backroom dealings and underhanded negotiations he'd had to control were ridiculous. It was like this every time the Vytal Festival came. Everybody was looking for the largest amount of profit. Whether it be food, transport, Dust, there was someone trying to get the best deals.
And let us not forget the migraines that accompanied negotiations with the Atlesian military. The Vytal Festival hosts important guests from all over Remnant, and as such, was a prime target for many terrorist groups. Therefore, large amounts of security would be required.
Unfortunately, many members of the Valean Council could no longer trust Ozpin, and so had decided to place their faith in General James Ironwood, who promised a strong and secure military presence.
On the other hand, there were those who thought that letting an outsider provide security for a festival occurring in Vale would result in other nations looking down on Vale's own forces.
Liseran walked into his home office and, not bothering to turn on the lights, collapsed into his soft leather chair in his spacious office. Even in his home, work continued to plague him. He reached forward to pour himself a generous glass of scotch, and he noticed that the a glass was missing, and the bottle was only half-full.
Strange, I replaced this only yesterday, he thought, just before a voice drew his attention to the corner of the room.
"Sorry about that, but I'm a sucker for a good twenty-year old scotch."
Liseran quickly turned on the lamp on his desk, illuminating the room, revealing a figure standing in the corner. It was someone he had never met before, but nevertheless knew well. Quite recently he had been the cause of much of the Council's meetings and subsequently his headaches. The nefarious criminal, the self-proclaimed greatest thief in Remnant, Roman Torchwick.
He made to stand, but Torchwick stopped him with a raise of his hand, which incidentally, held a glass of scotch. "No, no, please. Don't get up. I won't be troubling you for too long."
Liseran reviewed his available options, and decided that it would be in his best interests to co-operate. For now, at least. As infamous as he was, Roman Torchwick wasn't known for his violent tendencies. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"We have a lot of things in common, councilor. We're both successful, respected and powerful. You know what makes me so successful in my business, councilor?" Torchwick began, settling down on a chair across from him. "It's because I know everyone and everything I have to know. For example, I know the name of a lovely, but severely ill woman in Vale Medical Institute."
Liseran's chest tightened. There is no way...
Torchwick continued, pretending not to notice the old man's distress. "I also know the name of her son, who in his desperation to save his mother, broke into a local pharmacy to find something to relieve his mother's pain. Unfortunately, he was caught, arrested and despite his well-meaning intentions, was charged with grand larceny."
Under the desk, Liseran discreetly opened a drawer, revealing a small pistol. He had purchased it years ago for protection, but was lucky to never have had the occasion to use it.
Until now.
"As well as that, I know the name of the boy's father, who up until his mother called him asking for help, did not even know of the boy's existence. But I know that he is a powerful, and honorable man, and arranged for the boy's sentence to be shortened, and for the mother to receive enough money have the best care for her condition."
Liseran snatched the gun out of its drawer and clumsily aimed at the amused man in front of him. His hands shook from inexperience, as he fumbled to click the safety off.
"You said it yourself." he ground out. "I am a powerful man. It would be all too easy for me to kill you now and pass it off as self-defense. Especially if the victim is a criminal."
Torchwick never once lost his smug smile. "Well, that's a shame. I had my heart set on handling this peacefully. I guess diplomacy isn't really my style." He reached into his suit.
Thinking that he was reaching for a weapon, Liseran panicked and pulled the trigger.
Click
Liseran looked at his pistol in confusion, before it swiftly changed to horror. He pulled the trigger again, and again, the illogical action only increasing his panic. Torchwick smiled, and pulled out a small rectangular, metallic object from his suit. It took a while, but Liseran recognized it as the magazine.
"I know where you keep your gun." Torchwick smirked. "So, I'm sure you know how this conversation is going to play out."
"What do you want?" Liseran asked through gritted teeth.
Torchwick didn't waste anymore time. "Two things, first: during the next Council meeting, you will argue that due to the recent rise in Grimm activity, as well as the actions of yours truly, that the Vale police department needs a little help."
Liseran immediately understood. "You want me to vote for bringing the Atlesians into Vale." That part made sense. The council was pretty much even at the moment, but his status and influence can swing the vote in whichever direction he chose. But what didn't make sense was why. Torchwick was a criminal. If anything he should want the Atlesians as far away from his territory as possible.
"What's the second part?"
"That part is easier, and you can complete it right now." Torchwick ruffled around inside his suit once again. "All you need to do..." Roman pulled out a small set of papers and shuffled them around before presenting them to Liseran. "is sign across the dotted line."
Liseran tentatively reached towards the papers, giving it a cursory read, seeing as Torchwick didn't protest. Several details were omitted, probably to fill in later. "Why... why would you ever need this?" he asked incredulously.
Torchwick clicked his tongue. "Tut, tut, councilor. You know better than to ask those kind of questions. Don't worry, worst comes to worst, I'll make sure it never gets traced back to you."
That is not my biggest concern! he inwardly raged as he reread the papers. He knew exactly what this document was. He had signed hundreds of them before. Not as much these days ever since the rise in popularity of Scroll communication, but still a fairly large amount. But in the hands of a criminal like Torchwick... he might as well give a blank prescription to a drug addict.
"What's the hold up, Councillor? Need to call someone to confirm? 'Cos I have the number of a certain warden in Vale Juvenile Detention Center if you need to talk."
Liseran clenched his fist so tightly, his knuckles popped and turned white. He poured himself a glass of his very expensive scotch and instantly drained it. Slamming down the glass and looking at Roman's smug smile, he slowly reached for his pen.
In the middle of Vale's commercial district was a small cafe. It was quaint and old-fashioned. It had an outdoor area, parasols offering shade from the sun. Despite its small size, it was quite popular with the businessmen in the nearby companies. It provided good food and drink, and a relaxing atmosphere as a great escape from their stressful bosses.
One of its employees was a young wolf Faunus, around fifteen years old. He didn't get paid much, barely minimum wage, but he never dared complain. It was an easy job, anyways. He just had to wipe down the tables and empty the garbage cans.
It wasn't the friendliest environment, he had to admit. Many of the customers of the store were bigoted, ignorant, middle management types who weren't shy about showing their disdain for his... well... species. But the other employees were civil enough, so it was bearable. It also provided him with another opportunity.
...orchwick struck again at th...
...budget's stretched really thin right now...
...had to hire more Faunus...
...warehouses near the docks
...nother shipment due...
...the southeastern district...
An hour later, the boy's shift was over. He changed out of his uniform, he checked out, and said goodbye to his co-workers. Not like they ever said anything back. He walked down the street to a old, rust-covered public Scroll-booth.
He stepped inside and carefully dialed a number on the grimy number pad. It was one that he had called many times before, but he was still extremely careful. The Scroll rang three times before picking up.
The boy never said anything, nor was anything said to him. Instead, he reached for the number pad and quickly pressed several seemingly random numbers in quick succession. Not waiting for a reply, he hung up and left the booth and went straight home.
CRASH!
"Hey!" A large burly man walked over to a red haired fox faunus kneeling next to a tilted forklift, an opened box filled with crystal vials lying on its side next to it. "Attention, you stupid mutt. Pay it! You're lucky that box didn't detonate or we'd be scraping you off the walls. And we'd have wasted a box of perfectly good fire Dust."
"Sorry, sir, one of the wheels got a flat. I'll be more careful next time, sir." The man hastily returned the vials into the box and replaced the lid.
"Well, for fuck's sake, get a new one from storage!"
"Right away, sir." he said before scurrying off, but not before hearing the supervisor mutter under his breath. "Good-for-nothing animals..."
Rudy gritted his teeth and continued his run to the storehouses. He was so tempted, so very tempted to turn around and punch every single tooth out of that man's skull, but he forced himself to continue. He reminded himself that the time would come for him. Him and every other human in this facility.
He sprinted for the storehouse, which was located right at the edge of the facility so Dust shipments could be moved in and out of the refinery easily. Looking around to make sure that no-one was paying attention, he approached one of the large warehouses. He found the keypad which allows entry. He retrieved a small device, no bigger than his thumb and placed it to the underside of the keypad, where it stuck fast.
His task done, he started his search for a new wheel for the disabled forklift. All he had to do now was wait.
"Is this gonna take much longer?" the driver asked irritated.
"You know the drill, it'll take as long as it has to." the other man responded in a bland tone as he swept the mirror underneath the truck. Satisfied that nothing was hidden in the undercarriage of the truck, he ordered the driver to open the doors.
The driver swung the doors open and stood aside to let the guard survey the contents of the eighteen-wheeler. Inside the massive truck were dozens upon dozens of large black, metal cases.
Raw, unrefined Dust was extremely powerful, but was also extremely volatile. During transport, the crystals are suspended in an inert liquid and stored inside blast-proof, four feet by three feet by three feet, containers in order to minimize the effects of a runaway explosion. As an added protection, each crate was marked with a unique serial number so every gram of Dust coming in and out of the refineries is accounted for.
The guard scanned the serial numbers with the company-issue Scroll and waited for the results. The screen flickered wildly for a few seconds, prompting the guard to hit it against one of the crates. It seemed to have worked, a the screen flashed to normal a few moments later.
After the laborious process of checking every box of Dust, the eighteen-wheel truck was finally allowed entry into the Schnee refinery grounds. The driver headed to a large warehouse, and wiith practiced ease, reversed the truck so the back was facing directly onto one of the many raised platforms.
As soon as the engine shut down, the truck was swarmed by workers, some riding forklifts, who began the arduous job of unloading the truck. However, in spite of the weight of the crates and their daunting numbers, the truck was completely emptied, and the payload was already on its way to storage.
The driver stuck his head out of the window. "So where's my next shipment?"
One worker with a Scrollpad answered him. "You'll have to wait a while, man. You know how slow it is to organize the Dust, and you came earlier than expected. Give us twenty minutes."
"Eh," the driver grunted, before stepping out of the truck. "Just hurry it up, will ya. I need to take a piss."
The forklifts whirred as they gently settled the last of the cases into the warehouse. After confirming that every crate was present and in its designated area, the workers filed out of the room, leaving the crates in darkness.
After a few minutes, the silence was broken by a small beep, and faint hissing. One of the crates clicked several times before popping open. The lid flew up, revealing the contents, which were undoubtedly not raw Dust crystals. A figure emerged from the within, a man wearing a black uniform, and a bone-white mask.
One by one, the newly-arrived crates hissed and opened, prompting dozens of White Fang members, each one equipped with a rifle and a blood-red sword.
One member held a small device, resembling a Scroll except slightly bulkier. He pressed it flat against the door, and listened to it chirp and beep for several seconds before hearing the locking mechanisms disengage.
He quietly slipped out, his brothers-and-sisters-in-arms quickly following him once had given the all-clear signal. They moved through the halls in silence, splitting seamlessly into three groups. They all had a mission. They all had a purpose. The risks were immense, but the potential rewards had the potential to be even more so.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Duke yelled out to another truck which had just backed in. "What the hell is this?"
"What do you mean? It's your order!" the driver snapped back.
"Will you motorheads get your signals straight? We just got an order, the next one isn't meant to come for another week! Go to another facility!"
"Look, buddy, the guy at the gate let me through, alright? I have the receipts, delivery address, everything." The driver handed him a Scroll, which he took and compared to his own.
"What the... This makes absolutely no sense..." However, the information was unmistakeable. He had the proof in his hands. According to these two Scrolls, this truck contained ten tons of raw Dust from the Schnee Vale mines, as per ordered.
Then what the hell is in our storehouse?!
A loud shout drew his attention to the warehouse. Duke ran over to the other truck, which was completely empty by now, still waiting for its next load. "What the hell is going on?"
His answer came in the form of one trembling finger, pointing into the inside of the truck. He peered inside, trying to spot whatever their Faunus-enhanced eyes had seen. It took a while, but he saw it.
The inner wall of the truck had opened, seemingly just having fallen forward. Seemingly suspended in midair were two red dots, gradually growing larger as they approached. As it moved into the light, he finally saw the cause for their distress. He recognized it. How could he not? He had signed orders for Dust to use in their development and production, but as far as he knew it was still in the prototype stages.
The mechanical behemoth rolled out of the truck, its current form making it look like it was curled up on its knees, just barely fitting into the truck, its pristine white armor gleaming. It's sides were marked with a scarred, red wolf. One of its bulky, mechanical arms reached forward and folded in on itself. The end of its arm glowed, and crackled.
Duke died before he could even scream.
Roman prided himself on his professionalism. He knows how ridiculous some people find him, with the expensive suits, the cane, the Vacuan cigars. But he believed that being a criminal, especially if you're a criminal of his caliber, was no excuse for not being professional. He also knew that being a professional required sacrifices.
Though I do wish that sacrifice dressed better. he grumbled internally as he calmly washed his hands in the bathroom, dressed in his grubby, truck driver disguise. He checked his watch, which he noted would never be affordable by the persona he had adopted, and saw that it was time.
As he exited the bathroom he noted the guards in his immediate surroundings, as well as the distance from here to the guard post. He started to walk back towards the direction of the trucks, giving greetings to a few guards and workers on the way. Halfway there, three small cylinders dropped out of his coat and rolled in different directions.
Roman raised his hands to his ears and lowered his head, just as the cylinders detonated in a flash of light and a large plume of smoke. Visibility dropped instantly, a fact that Roman took advantage of. Activating his Aura through his eyes, his sight was restored. He pulled out Melodic Cudgel, shrunken to fit into his coat and extended it.
Coming up behind the nearest guard, he swept his cane at his feet, sending him tumbling to the ground. Roman seized his rifle and shot him straight in the forehead. Still unnoticed, he ran to a second guard and jammed the barrel into his throat and fired, splattering blood over the walls.
More guards had swarmed the halls, surrounding him. He noted that these were equipped with special goggles designed to track heat signatures, making the smoke useless. Their rifles pointed straight at him, and they were yelling so obnoxiously he didn't bother registering the words they shouted.
Before they could fire, he pulled another guard to him with the hook of his cane, positioning his new captive between him and the firing squad. Embedding the end of his cane to the other man's chest, he fired, making him fly to his comrades. A split second later, the projectile detonated, killing the rest of them.
Loud gunfire drew his attention to the rest of the guards, who were vainly trying to stave off heavy fire from an unseen source. In a few seconds, the gunshots ceased, and the figures of the White Fang could be seen through the smoke. "Well, it's about time. I thought I might have to start the party without you guys."
One of the members- Percy, Perry, something like that- stepped up. "The others are already headed to their assigned locations. We should get a move on."
"Then by all means, follow me, boys and girls. Our tour will take us to the other side of the facility, so I hope you can keep up with little ol' me." With one final remark, Torchwick sped through the facility, the White Fang disposing of whoever was stupid enough to get in their way.
Three cars accompanied by a large armored van raced through the streets of Vale, bringing with them wailing sirens and flashing lights. Cars swerved desperately out of their way, the entourage not even slowing down as they navigated the busy roads.
Inside the van, were two dozen of Vale's police department. Every single one of them was wearing full body armor, and was armed with a high-powered rifle modified to shoot Dust rounds. They were members of Vale's Special Weapons and Tactics Unit, the best of the best trained to operate in the most dangerous situations.
"Alright, let's go over this one more time." The man at the front, Commander Cobalt, addressed them all. "Twenty minutes ago, we received word that the White Fang has attacked the Schnee Dust refinery in the southeastern end of Vale, just on the edge of the industrial district.
I don't think I need to remind you all of the risk that comes with a mission in an area loaded with Dust. So no shots fired unless you're a 120% sure it'll hit your target. Once we're on-site, complete radio silence and shoot on sight. Do not give them the opportunity to fire back. I don't want to see a single empty seat once we're done. We clear?"
"YESSIR!"
A knock from the driver seat drew their attention. "30 seconds!"
"Got it! Last minute checks everyo-"
BOOOM!
The world span wildly. The van rotated again and again, so quickly that Cobalt lost count of how many times his body flipped around. A stray thought in his head cursed the policy forbidding the wear of seatbelts in the event that mobility was required. Eventually, the van stopped on its side, and Cobalt attempted to regain his bearings.
They were just outside the refinery grounds. They were all groaning in pain, but no-one had any serious injuries. The one standing next to the door kicked it open, and they all filed out as swiftly as possible. Cobalt was the last to exit the van and instantly saw what blew away the first-rate armored van.
It was something that so far he had only seen in expositions, on blueprints in its incomplete stages. There wasn't even a prototype made yet, but here it was, every bit the destructive weapon it was meant to be, raining bullets and bolts of light-blue energy on the other three cars. The Atlesian-Paladin 290, Atlas' newest weapon against the Grimm.
He knew what he had to do. As much as he believed in the abilities of his men, they were hilariously outmatched, and he wasn't going to let pride be the reason for their needless deaths. "Everyone, fallback! Focus on containment. Lay traps around it to limit its movement." From what he remembered, one of the flaws of the Paladin was that it was slow on uneven ground, having to rely on walking. That was all they could do for now.
He reached for the radio on his shoulder. "This is Steel, requesting immediate back-up at the Schnee refinery in the southeastern quadrant of the industrial district. Under heavy fire from an Atlesian Paladin. Send any and all units on standby for assistance. Send the military, hell," he took another look at the image of the gleaming metal knight in front of them. "Send everybody."
Roman led his group through the sterile white halls. The White Fang members accompanying him had dwindled from eight to three, the others staying back to engage the security guards as well as complete their secondary objective. Soon, the four of them came to a large set of steel double doors.
Roman fished out his Scroll and pressed it against the ID scanner and the door unlocked. He gestured to his companions. "After you, gentlemen."
They kicked open the doors and stormed in. Roman chose to stay outside for a while, confident that they would remember his warning not to fire their weapons unless absolutely necessary. He heard plenty of screams, demands, sobbing, but thankfully no gunshots.
He casually strolled in just in time to see the White Fang members shoot three men wearing lab coats in the head, their bodies falling to the floor with a wet thump. He looked around the laboratory, confirming that this was in fact their target.
The sole survivor of the room, was a woman, in her mid-thirties kneeling on the floor, her long silver hair tied in a neat bun, her grey eyes bloodshot and laced with tears. She wore a lab coat as well, which was spattered with fresh blood.
Roman walked up to her. "You must be Doctor Grey. I'm a big fan of your work. I hope you don't mind, but we're on a tight schedule so I'll have to skip the formalities. I'm sure you know who I am anyway."
"Roman... Torchwick." Grey forced out through chattering teeth. Even in these hideous clothes, it was gratifying to know that people could still recognize him by his face alone.
"One and only," he extended his hand to her, and she involuntarily recoiled away. "Oh, please, Doc. I'm not going to hurt you. Why would I? It's not as if you're going to cause any trouble are you?"
Hesitantly, Grey took his hand, and Roman hauled her up from her position on the cold floor. "See? nothing to be afraid of. That's what I like to see, a little trust and co-operation. Now, I really hate to do this to you, but I may have lied slightly." At her look of panic, he corrected himself. "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just a small sting." Immediately after saying that, he tilted her head and jammed a syringe into her neck and pressed the plunger.
He targeted the sweet spot just behind the tendons in her neck, so when she instinctively flinched, she only drove the needle deeper. Her hand feebly reached upwards to grasp the syringe, but it was too late. Within seconds, her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped forward.
Roman caught her, and picking her up in his arms, he gently handed her to one of the White Fang. "Careful now, she's precious cargo. It wouldn't do to have gone through all this trouble only for the target to become dinged." He turned to the other two members. "You guys know what to do, and you know how to get to the rendezvous point."
Without another word, Roman and the other man, along with their new payload, sped through the hallways once more, this time Roman disposing of any guards they come across.
Cobalt once again cursed his situation. They had lain several explosives around the Paladin, and had succeeded in hampering its movement, but it had come at a price. Five of his men were down, at least two had life-threatening injuries. Their bullets barely grazed the Paladin, and they were running out of ammunition.
The same could not be said for their adversary. If it was any other day, Cobalt would marvel at the brilliant piece of technology. But now, it was nothing but a serious threat to their lives. They couldn't approach the facility, ground forces were practically shackled. He even had to call off air support after seeing the range of its energy cannons.
It was moving with the kind of reaction time that was way beyond any kind of machine, so of course someone must be operating it inside. That made their job so much harder, as it was undoubtedly easier to fool a machine, as a machine would always pick what it perceived to be the best move.
A shout drew his attention to the side, where the Paladin was slowly approaching two of his men, one of whom looked to be bleeding profusely, the other one desperately clutching the wound to stem the bleeding and dragging him away as fast as possible. They're not gonna make it! he realized.
Loading his rifle with his only magazine of high-grade Dust rounds, he fired furiously to the outstretched arms, peppering it with small explosions. The substantial armor of the Paladin prevented any damage beyond a few scratches. However, the Paladin turned to him and aimed one of its energy cannons at him and fired with no hesitation.
The bolt of light seemed to travel in slow motion. Cobalt stayed where he was, knowing that even if he did try to move, the bolt would pierce him before he even began to tense his muscles. He knew it would be painless so merely braced for impact...
Just as the energy harmlessly splashed against a translucent, octagonal, sapphire-blue wall. In front of him stood a young woman in her twenties, her dirty-blonde hair whipping around her, brandishing a pair of morningstars, one of which was raised against the blue shield. With a thrust of her hand, the barrier sped forward into the Paladin, pushing it back several meters before dissipating.
His savior turned to him. "Get your men in those buildings. I've already called a bus to our location, so get to cover and hang tight. I'll handle this."
Cobalt was lost for words for a few moments, but his discipline quickly recognized the situation. "There are still members of the White Fang in the building."
"My partner's taking care of them. Look, sir, all due respect, but you're out of depth here. Half of your men are gravely injured, and you still haven't damaged that thing. The military is still ten minutes out, and they'll come with more firepower, so just wait."
Cobalt grit his teeth, before calling a retreat to all of his forces. It stung to truly realize how outmatched they were compared to a trained Huntress, who manged to inflict more damage to the enemy within thirty seconds than they had for the past twenty minutes. Nevertheless, the lives of his men came first. He led his men to a building which had long since evacuate when the shooting had started, leaving the Huntress against the Paladin.
Iris charged straight for the Paladin, her morningstars, Quake and Phalanx. The mechanical knight fired numerous energy bolts towards her, but none of them even slowed her down. Not because of she dodged them, but because of a shining barrier erected in front of her. The shots crashed harmlessly against the shield, dispersing and charring the ground in front of Iris instead.
When she got close enough, the Paladin switched its arms to its close-quarters-combat mode, the gun barrels retracting, replaced by a steel fist. The arm came flying at her at speeds a normal person couldn't hope to react to, but Iris saw it coming a mile away and had shifted her barrier upwards to parry the strike. She jumped up and slammed her morningstars into the arm, forcing it to the ground, but unfortunately still attached and intact.
Springing up from her position on its arm, she swung Quake towards the torso of the mech, intent on knocking the pilot of this monstrosity around a bit. However, the operator once again showed their dexterity, as the Paladin swiftly jumped back, reducing the impact to a mere glancing blow. While she was still in mid-air, the Paladin charged a blast of energy towards her, and launched it in the same second.
But Iris had fast reflexes as well. She quickly conjured a barrier underneath her, just two feet in width, and willed it to lift herself up. Getting back on her feet, the barrier flew around the Paladin, giving the image of Iris surfing through the air. Gliding behind it, she pressed a button on Phalanx, making it glow with the yellow light of earth Dust.
She guided her barrier to the Paladin's legs, intent on grounding the robot, but it quickly twisted at its waist to face her, and blocked her strike with its arm. Fortunately, the force behind the impact shattered the arm, the pieces flying in every direction, knocking back the Paladin.
Realizing the disadvantage it was in, it seemed that the Paladin's operator had decided to adjust strategy. The machine quickly retreated further into the compound, the wheels on its feet whirring furiously.
"The hell do you think you're going?" Iris bellowed, as she forced the barrier she was resting on to rise and give chase to the Paladin. Some would say that it was a waste of Aura, but this method of movement gave her an aerial view of the entire compound. As well as that, Iris possessed abnormally large Aura reserves, only being rivaled by Jaune and her father. So something like this could hardly be felt.
In the far edges of the compound, flame was spreading and the refinery employees were scurrying about. She could see that the Vale police, as well as the military had arrived and had besieged the refinery and had began their assault on the eastern side. It seems that they were being held back by forces hidden in the buildings, but were slowly advancing. But the Paladin wasn't heading there.
The armored mech was heading to the landing pads used for when the company big-shots decide to flaunt their authority by giving a surprise visit to the job-site. Iris surveyed the pattern of movement and concluded that the landing pads were the White Fang's escape route. They must have prepared high-grade Dust that's easy to airlift.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a presence make itself known right next to her. "Damn it, Sequoia! Would it kill ya to make a noise once in a while?" she griped to her older twin, who was hovering in mid-air beside her. Simple as it may be, she never got tired of seeing her sister's Semblance in action, which granted her control over the air.
"Not really my style. I have engaged the terrorists in battle but they used several smokescreens and explosions to escape. I flew up here to track them and while it's hard to see as they are moving between the buildings, it seems their target is..."
"The landing pads. The Paladin's heading there too. I'll bet that that is their escape route."
"I concur. While some of their members fought, others must have gathered high-grade Dust that is easy to airlift." she deduced. "I suggest that you tell the military to watch out for any incoming aircrafts, and then deal with the Paladin."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to buy you some time." she said, before gathering wind around her, and rocketing off to the direction of the landing pads.
Upon landing on top of a warehouse roof, Sequoia immediately saw the problem which made her send Iris elsewhere. The White Fang had taken hostages. Twenty, of thirty workers were huddled together, being ushered by the terrorists as they ran as fast as they could. Sequoia was suddenly very glad for her decision. Competent as Iris was, hostage rescue was not her sister's strong suit. Thankfully, she herself had a way to ensure their survival.
Activating her Semblance, she focused on the air surrounding the group and forced it to disperse. This is one of the basic functions of her Semblance, to control the air pressure in a certain area. But of course, any vacuum made will seek to be filled, so she must maintain a sort of moving bubble around her target area, so air can get out, but not get in.
The effects weren't visible at first, but in a minute they became very noticeable. It started with a few of them breathing more heavily, their breaths becoming ragged and thready. Soon, they began to collapse, terrorist and hostage alike, falling to the ground as they slowly ran out of air.
They had stopped running altogether now, and more than half of them had fainted, and the others were hyperventilating. Sequoia kept up her hold on the air pressure, right up until her hardened instincts screamed at her to move. She jumped down off the roof, just in time to avoid a large explosion.
Her concentration over the air bubble broke, and the targeted group began to regain consciousness. They wheezed and coughed harshly, as they sucked in large amounts of oxygen. Undoubtedly, they would be out of commission for a while, so she looked for the source of the projectile. Her sharp eyes spotted a figure standing away from the group, wearing old, dusty clothes, but Sequoia knew who he was.
No disguise could mask the wielder of that red, black and white cane. "Roman Torchwick." she said coldly. "I should have known that you were the only thief stupid enough to think you could actually succeed in this heist.
Torchwick smiled at her, twirling his cane, one green eye shining with amusement. "Oh? It seems my reputation precedes me. But I'm afraid it's not stupidity, missy. It's what a gambling man like me would call a calculated risk. And right now, I'm on a hot streak."
"If you're a gambling man, Torchwick then you should know," she held her warfans, Void and Tempest, in front of her menacingly in a closed position. "The house always wins."
Sequoia sprinted forwards, while Torchwick merely stood there in a beckoning gesture. Before she reached him, Sequoia snapped Void to its fully open form, a circular disk and threw it at the criminal. The disc whizzed through the air, rotating at lethal speeds promising grievous injury.
Torchwick leaped out of the way, but the disk curved around like a boomerang, forcing him to bat it away with his cane. While his back was turned, Sequoia lashed out with Tempest in her right hand while catching Void in her left. In that instant, a high-speed battle between two highly skilled combatants erupted.
Unlike what most people think, most of the attacks using a warfan was used when it was closed, when the ten ribs of the fan were brought together and its striking force was at its maximum. It was a style that required considerable skill in dodging, parrying and counterattacking. A skilled practitioner could kill a man with a single blow, without the enemy even touching them.
Torchwick's cane darted towards her stomach, but she easily sidestepped, gripping his outstretched arm with her right hand and lashing out with her left. She struck him on the cheek, the force behind it making him bruise. She was about to follow up with a jab to his stomach, but Roman flipped his cane around so the curved end faced her. He then slammed it on the ground, a small explosion launching the cane towards her chest, knocking her back.
She jumped back, but Torchwick did not allow her any breathing room. Torchwick displayed his considerable skill as he furiously swung and jabbed at her, forcing her to parry and weave around his attacks. In a show of flexibility, she bent her body backwards to avoid a swing aimed at her neck. Seeing an opening, she snapped open Void and Tempest, and used her Semblance to form and launch two bullets of highly compressed air towards Torchwick, at the same time, using the wind to push her ten meters backwards.
"Where are you aiming, missy?" he taunted, positioning his body so the bullets would pass right by him. Sequoia smirked, and he realized his mistake a half a second too late. Just when the bullets were either side of him, they rapidly decompressed. The resulting shockwave blew him back off of his feet.
Wasting no time, Sequoia literally flew forwards, intending to knock him unconscious before he regained his bearings. Unfortunately, Torchwick recovered quickly, flipping backwards to land on his feet. He charged towards her while she was still airborne, intending to face her attack head on. Sequoia was undeterred. More than that, she accelerated, and commanded the air around her to swirl at hurricane speeds, ensuring that Torchwick's attack would be deflected well away from her.
The fight had devolved into a crude game of 'chicken' with both sides apparently having no intention to stop. The distance between them was less than five meters, close enough that Sequoia could see the twinkle in Roman's eye, as if he was amused at the idea of being ripped apart by a cyclone.
A moment before she collided with him, she discovered why.
Torchwick threw himself to the side, but not before releasing the top part of his cane. The hook caught her in the arm, and the wire of extremely high tensile strength whipped around her, using her own winds to wrap all around her at blistering speeds. but the thief wasn't done there. He yanked her back harshly, forcing the wire to tighten around her neck. Her Aura might prevent the wire from digging to deeply into her skin, but the force still felt like it could tear her head clean off.
The cane whirred as it dragged her across the ground towards him. "Well, I had a great time, missy. I'd say we should do this again, but it looks like there won't be a next time." He slammed the barrel of the cane down towards her, but she rolled to her side, and released her warfans in their fully opened disc form to block the strike and the subsequent explosion.
Focusing her semblance as much as she could, she moved her fans through the air brought them together to slice straight through the steel wire. Before Torchwick could register the damage to his weapon, Sequoia let loose an eruption of air aimed upwards, sending Torchwick flying out of her line of sight.
She squirmed around, desperately trying to free herself from the wires still tangled around her. She kept her hold on Void and Tempest as they orbited around her, in case Torchwick was about to strike. Eventually she freed herself, but it was too late. Torchwick had already fled.
"Fuck!" she swore, which spoke volumes for her level of frustration at the moment. She had underestimated him, dismissing him as a petty crook, and had nearly paid the price for it. He was gone, and she was so caught up with him that the White Fang had escaped with the hostages. She forgot that this was the man that had encountered and evaded capture from entire governments. She would not take him lightly again.
She took the skies once again, searching for the thief. To the side, she saw Iris beating down the Paladin. She wouldn't need any help there, so she could focus on Torchwick. The sound of rapid gunfire drew her attention to a mass of people wearing black clothing, surrounding dozens more in normal clothes. People in police and military uniforms pursued them vigorously, some even firing their weapons, but the White Fang used the Dust crates as shields, and so they had nearly reached the landing pads.
She glided down, and saw her target running behind the group. She landed just in front of the army officers, their guns raised and their fingers on the triggers. Her tension and sense of concentration was at its maximum, ready to summon a storm the moment Torchwick tried anything.
Torchwick had stopped with the rest of the White Fang at the landing pads. They were in a circle formation around the hostages, their guns trained on them. Behind them were a considerable number of crates, probably carried by the hostages while under threat. They were trapped now. They were facing dozens of police and military officers. Even if an aircraft managed to get near the refinery, there was no time for them to board before they shot it down.
"Stand down! You have nowhere to run, Torchwick!"
"I won't be the one running." Torchwick smirked at them infuriatingly.
A loud rumble could be heard approaching them. In a burst of rubble and smoke, the Paladin crashed into the scene, with Iris right on its tail. It was considerably more damaged than the last time she saw it, its armor marred with dents and scratches, and several wires and internal mechanisms showing.
The damage had not affected its speed though, as proven when it charged for the crowd of law enforcement. Sequoia called a retreat, but strangely, the Paladin had not been targeting them as first thought. Instead it plowed into the row of vehicles, coming to a stop in a thunder of ripping and crashing metal.
They had no time to relax though. As the smoke was clearing, Sequoia heard a sound of beeping emanating from the collision site. She turned to the Paladin with dread creeping into her veins, and saw its form beginning to glow.
"IT'S ABOUT TO EXPLODE!" Sequoia screamed in a tone she was not accustomed to. But it was perfectly justified. She knew what that machine was, due to her older sister's position in the Atlesian military. As such she knew that the Atlesian Paladin-290 was powered by a fuel cell using highly pressurized fire Dust. If a source of such extreme energy density was allowed to lose control...
"IRIS!"
"I know!" Iris landed in the middle of the panicked soldiers. "Everyone, get as close to me as you can!" Iris placed Quake and Phalanx back into their harnesses. She quickly looked over the soldiers around her, before clapping her hands together, with a look of complete concentration on her face.
An explosion seemed to rock the world, the blast wave heading straight for them, but a millisecond before it reached them, Iris raised her hands. With that one motion, a dome comprised of countless octagonal barriers bonded together around the soldiers. The blast slammed into the wall, but it held and the impact shattered the ground underneath them.
The second threat to them was the heat. Temperatures outside rose by hundreds, even thousands of degrees. The flames scorched and melted the ground. The fire enveloped them on all sides, crashing uselessly against the dome, desperately trying to engulf them and burn them until they were nothing but ash. And yet, within the barrier, the temperature did not rise by a single degree.
An impenetrable shield formed by knitting millions of tiny barriers together. If any were broken, then they were swiftly replaced, like soldiers of a phalanx rushing to avenge their fallen comrade. Nothing outside the dome can affect those within, and vice versa. The dome might as well be part of another world. This was the absolute defense of Iris Arc.
Eventually, after a few minutes, the flames died down, but Iris did not let up the barrier. The air outside was still at superhot temperatures after all. To release the dome now would cook them alive. Sequoia raised a hand, and a gale swirled around the dome, dispersing the hot air, cooling the molten earth, and clearing the smoke around them.
Once Iris had deemed it to be enough a further fifteen minutes later, she released the barrier, and a wave of heat assaulted them, not harmful, but still much higher than normal. All of them looked to the landing pads, or rather, what was left of them.
A large hole had been carved straight into the ground, the edges crumbling and falling into the abyss. They peered over the edge, taking care not to dislodge any rocks lest they fall in. Below them, lay a large circular tunnel, at the bottom of which was a current of water. Realization dawned on Sequoia.
They fled into the sewer system. she thought incredulously. Her mind worked a mile a minute, while beside her, Iris reached the same conclusion.
"Damn it! They must have had people set up charges underneath the landing pads, set to detonate before the Paladin. We have to get people down there, and to set up a perimeter-"
"It's no use. These tunnels run using an intricate system that only Vale's engineers fully understand. Judging by the time we spent trying to survive that explosion, Torchwick and the White Fang could be on their way to anywhere by now."
"Sis, what the hell are you saying?!" Iris raged. "They have hostages. Dozens of them!"
"Did they?"
"W-What?"
"I haven't thought about it until now, but I noticed something about the every single one of those hostages. They were all Faunus."
"So what? Schnee refineries hire hundreds of Faunus!"
"Of course. If it were one or two hostages, I would think nothing of it. But the White Fang are a Faunus organization. Why would they needlessly threaten those who they believe to be their brethren? Why not take the human employees? Surely they would be easier to control."
"You mean to say..."
"They were not hostages. They were recruits."
"I told you it would work." A handsome young man with black hair, wearing a nondescript clothing spoke into a Scroll. He was currently at a coffee shop, sipping his latte when he got the call.
"I had the timing all worked out, man. You had nothing to worry about."
"Easy for you to say, Jet. I thought some of these animals were gonna piss themselves when the ground started falling."
"How did Neo like the Paladin?"
"Liked it a bit too much if you ask me. She's already asking for a dozen of them to replace the one she lost. Was it really necessary to blow it up?"
"Don't worry, it's easy enough to make more of them."
"Well, get to it, on the double."
"Why are you so grumpy? You got a lot of good Dust, you acquired the target, the White Fang gets new recruits, and Neo got a fun toy to play with. I'd call this robbery one hell of a success!"
"Yeah, aside from the fact that I've had to listen to these mutts' stupid yapping for the past two hours while trudging through a sewer, I look and smell like a hobo, and Melodic Cudgel is split in half, I'm just about crapping sunshine here."
"Alright, I get the point." the young man looked up and saw the person he was meeting walking up the street. "Look, Roman, I gotta go. I'll keep ya posted." He hung up without waiting for a response.
The woman walked into the cafe, prompting him to rise from his seat. She greeted him with a peck on the lips before slumping into her own seat.
"Rough day at work?"
"You don't know the half of it, Jet. There was an incident at work which promises a lot of paperwork for the forseeable future. This is probably the only break I'll get for a while. Sorry about that." the young woman finished with a sad smile.
"Don't worry about it. I understand." he gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned wholeheartedly, her red eyes shining with gratitude.
"Thanks. It's just..." she groaned. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have your boss, and your boss' boss, hounding you every minute of every working day, demanding results, results, results?!" She let her head fall onto the table, her white hair splaying out around her.
Jet chuckled under his breath. "Trust me, Bianca. I'm sure I have an idea."
Sorry if I was a little bit late with this one, but it's exam season, so, free time is at an all time low right now. On that very same note, I regret to say that the next chapter will have a small delay to it too, but I'm hoping to have it up by the end of May. Apologies in advance if I don't follow up on that.
Not a lot of RWBY-ness in this chapter, more focusing on Mr. Torchwick. Now regarding Roman, I know that in an earlier Author's Note that he wasn't very important in canon. But here I suddenly have him as some criminal mastermind, right?! Well, this is my fanfic, not canon, and I wanted a criminal mastermind, and I had the perfect character for it.
One might argue that Cinder could fit the mold better, and indeed her plans are downright diabolical. But in terms of experience, contacts and resources in the criminal underworld? I would think Roman would have her beat.
To quote Evelyn Beatrice Hall, "I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it." With that in mind, please review!