A.N. (Edit as of 10/6/15, or 6/10/15 for you non-American folk: HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. GODDAMN. MOTHER. FUCKING. WRITER'S BLOCK. FUCK.

That is all.

Also, total hypocrite, but I've worked out some rough maths for my theory on Aura;

At its toughest state, 100 Aura can block one-ton of force.

So, just a basic list of characters' Aura levels;

Brafez- 300 Aura, yet uses it sparingly.

Ariad- 500 Aura

Olivia- 700 Aura, yet on her own (Without Aura) she can take 15 tons of force before being turned into red paste.

Juane- 1000 Aura

Just keep in mind, I'm taking these figures out from my ass. That's all.

START OF CHAPTER

Two months later...

The Hunt came to a close three days after his capture in the Spring. It wouldn't start again until the beginning of the next Winter, at which point the Grimm would be lulled into a false sense of security due to no attacks from the Sect, making them relatively easy pickings. What remained of the Seventh Column had been admitted to the various psychiatrists throughout Inverness, getting the help they needed. Welsha had been promoted to Column leader, despite her reluctance. Though her mind had been momentarily fractured, being around Brafez had "fixed" what damage had occurred.

Brafez was excited to still be alive, and with the Hunt over he was getting some much-needed healing. He still wasn't eating as much as he should, which resulted in his ribs showing through his skin whenever he breathed. Though, he was an eight-year-old, so seeing ribs wasn't the end of the world. Of course, since his life was beginning to take a turn for the best, everything had to go absolutely bat-shit insane. The first trace of the descent into madness came with a call, and an irrefutable offer.

Inverness, Rasputin-Pierre apartment...

Life was looking up for Brafez: no Hunts, no Grimm, and all his friends and family were alive and with him. So it hadn't occured to him that his life was about to fall apart as he took a bite of a burger, flashing a heartfelt smile Katie's way. Welsha and Marcus were cooking like good siblings, and while Brafez had an unnatural aversion to food, Marcus' burgers were to die for. The way he managed to make the cheese fill in the grooves on the burgers...simply astounding.

Like all happy times, this had to end. The apartment went silent as Brafez's scroll went off, said boy taking it off the table and standing up. He held the device to his ear, listening.

"Exterminator Rasputin?" Brafez felt his breathing slow as he heard Mangeele's voice, the cold calculation in his voice making him shiver with disgust.

"Yes." Brafez replied, walking into the hall next to the kitchen.

"I would like for you to come to my office, effective immediately. I have...an offer for you."

"I'll be right there." The young Exterminator replied with a hiss, putting his scroll away and waving Welsha over.

"Here," Welsha muttered, handing him a dust pistol. "Be careful."

"Always am." Brafez responded, flashing her a small smirk as he shoved the pistol into his pocket, mecha-shifting the gun into a pocket knife.

He figured that she would know. She had been listening to his call through her scroll, having hacked into the network easily. It was her business after all, being a spy.

"Yeah, and you always eat your food." Welsha coyly replied, opening the door for him.

"See you later."

Brafez walked out the door, waiting for a familiar ghostly presence to appear. He frowned when she didn't, and continued walking. Summer hadn't appeared in the past seven months, and he was starting to get worried. Sure, she was a ghost, but that didn't mean he couldn't be worried. Whatever could keep a ghost from him must've been very powerful.

He dismissed the thought as he walked into Inverness' courtyard, crinkling his nose as the smell of sulfur touched the air. It was coming from the Farm: during the past few months, the Farm had gone into overdrive, doing whatever they did at an alarming rate. If this offer had anything to do with the Farm, he would have to negotiate pretty damn well in order to get out of it. Even then, he wasn't sure that would do anything, or if it would make his situation worse. In other words he would go from being a living child soldier to being a dead child soldier.

And even though being dead would solve a few of his problems, he wasn't really eager to shuffle off his mortal coil just yet. He had a few things he wanted to do before he died.

A howl split the day, startling him. Brafez turned to his left, peering past the gate towards the sound.

It was coming from inside the Farm. Whatever was howling was certainly in grief, and he shook with empathy. The pure emotion that the Grimm was emitting made him wonder if the Grimm weren't soulless, even if his recent torture begged to differ. After a few minutes of soul-shattering howls, it abruptly cut off, leaving him with a sense of dread. He had the urge to melt the fence in front of him, break into the Farm, and rescue the Grimm. But, since that would get him killed, he opted to think of another way in.

It wasn't like he could just ask for a...keycard...

"Brilliant." Brafez whispered, rushing off to meet with Mangeele. Maybe he could save whatever had made that noise.

He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped off the elevator. Mangeele's door was open, light pouring from the doorway and revealing an empty room. Brafez took out the pocket knife, holding it against his palm and taking a step towards the door. A slight movement caught his eye, and when he looked closer, he saw a gun barrel sticking out from the side of the doorway by three fifths of an inch.

The young Exterminator sighed, throwing the pocket knife through the bottom of the wall next to the door, cutting the man's Achilles heel and dropping him to the floor. Brafez rushed forward, kicking the man and knocking him out. He felt the cold metal of another barrel press against his temple, and activated his Semblance, moving his arm and snapping the assailant's wrist, making the man lose his grip on his weapon. Brafez grabbed the gun out of the air and fired three times into the second man's chest, dropping him.

Thankfully it was only a dust pistol, so his would-be assassin would only wake up with a few bruises and a damaged ego. Brafez spun around, holding up the captive weapon in the direction of a noise he had heard. The sound of clapping filled the air, Mangeele stepping out of the shadows.

"Glad to see you're still lethal. Come, have a seat." The doctor gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Brafez dropped the battery from the gun, putting it in his waistband.

"I'm assuming that I passed the test?"

"You are correct. Now, about that offer..."

"What is it." Brafez spoke aloud, not having time for the doctor's games.

"I can see you're in no mood for games, so I'll get straight to the point. How would you like to not have to fight ever again?" The young Exterminator gave him a deadpan stare, before raising an eyebrow and realizing that the mad doctor might not be joking.

"Never again?" Mangeele smirked: the boy had played right into his hands.

"Never again."

"Interesting. What's the catch?"

"No catch." Brafez tilted his head to the side, his eyes glazing over.

"Oh, I see. Cloning. Makes sense. It appears you have no ulterior motives. That or you're hiding something extremely well." He rightened his head, blinking and standing up. "I believe we have ourselves a deal. Though, I'm going to need a favor."

"I'm going to be a bit late."

"Be careful."

"I will."

Brafez pocketed his scroll, watching the sun set. Night was rapidly approaching, and soon he would be able to set his plan in motion: Find whatever made that noise from before and put it out of its misery. Once the last few rays of light dropped off the horizon, Brafez walked over to the Farm's checkpoint, holding out his keycard. The guard took it and nodded, handing it back to the boy and opening the gate, letting him pass.

Brafez put his hands in his pockets, crossing the grass yard until he reached a metal barn. No, really, an actual metal barn. The entire structure was made out of metal, and quite sturdy. He walked up to the doors and melted the locks off, slipping inside and out of sight. Once he was in, he closed the door, turning around.

"Oh..."

END OF CHAPTER TEN

A.N. So, yes, I have indeed been delaying the updates. Why? Because I like to have at least four chapters ready to put out before I start on a new set. Then I ran dead-on into writer's block and ever since it's been fucking me in the ass with its big, veiny cock, and I HATE IT. I even tried to put down a series of events in my phone to help me out! Look! *shows phone* Somehow I managed to put WB into a choke-hold for a few days and managed to bring in a few hundred words, so, yeah. That's been my entire past four weeks.