I do not own RWBY. I do however own the Original Characters.
OVER 1000 PEOPLE FAV AND FOLLOW GRIMM HEIR! YAHOOO! THANK YOU ALL!
On that note, I am once again sorry for how long this took, especially since it is so short. What happened was I was almost done writing the chapter when I realized that everything I had done was just so out of place and did not fit into the narrative. I wrote a one-shot scene basically, and while I do consider most of what I wrote in it as still canon, the rest, ehhh, not so much.
That section is now up on my deleted scenes with further details, check it out after or before reading this chapter.
Answer Time!
Trickster3696: World Eaters, Word Bearers, and Night Lords; bloodlust, devotion, and terror.
Varangue: I was going to go darker with this chapter. It just did not fit in the narrative. You can check out it the deleted scenes.
Hydroplatapus: Wait, who are is the fourth one in that 4-sided clusterfuck?
Dracohalo117: Silver wanted a plaything, find out why in the deleted scenes.
CjmRAZOR: I only post author notes when things are seriously stuck or I stop writing altogether. Plus, I can just apologize here for it. I may do something like that, but it would be in the deleted scenes story.
Foul steak: Silver is surrounded mostly by Thralls and her own Grimm. Mostly chompers, but since she doesn't have to stay hidden anymore she can summon saboricores and gorebulls as well, though only a few. Some Grimm, both her father's and Salem's are still present, but the latter's will likely be hunted down completely by the time the team arrives.
Crow-DarkHeart: An interesting concept, thank you.
Shadow Walker of Fire: Flinch is nowhere near Mountain Glenn right now, so no, she will not.
Zam138: The train LITERALLY leads into a cement wall, plus the Thralls killed or captured anyone near it in the opening moments of the coup.
Enderhunter991: I want to leave that up to the imagination of the reader. However, I will give you a hint: Silver possesses a cloak that can pretty much make her invisible wherever there are shadows, and is an expert in fast ambush attacks; you can take off from there.
NinjaRiderWriter: You'll have to wait and find out.
Foreteller of Three: While I do draw some inspiration from Game of Thrones I am not aiming to write something like it. I don't watch walking dead, so I wouldn't know.
V01dSw0rd: No, the Overlord's origins are very clear: Moon broke, shard fell to Remnant, shard became Overlord.
WritersMind: Hard to say, I would go for fifty-fifty or maybe sixty(Overlord)-forty(Salem). It would vary greatly from each landmass, but I will say it is probably about even… mostly…
Antex-The Legendary Zoroark: No, Neo's death was more a reference to the Night Lords from Warhammer 40k, as it was done to inspire fear more than anything else.
OverDemon: You make several good points. I will think them over and see if they might prove useable in future chapters.
GameboyNinjaUltimate Icarus: The reason for this massive purge is simple: SHE TOOK HIS JOB! Also, do have any idea how hard it is to discretely kill what could be millions of creatures over a landmass the size of Sanus? Too long.
Nopeite nopeite nope: Yes, it is.
BrownTeddyBear: There is no shame in that ship.
The1oracle: We might later on, but not yet.
Guest: I guessed as much, still pretty confusing though.
To everyone else: Thank you, the reunion is coming, I didn't like killing Neo either, Samurai Jack is back and kicking ass, and I submitted my homebrew to 40k Theories today… Oh yeah, YOU 40K FANS AMONG YOU WILL ALL GET TO (hopefully) HEAR ABOUT MY CUSTOM SPACE MARINE CHAPTER ON YOUTUBE! PRAISE THE EMPEROR!
THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL VERSION! THAT PART I SAID WAS IN DELETED SCENES IS NOW OFFICALLY CANON AND BACK IN THE STORY!
Onto the story!
Grimm Heir
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Battles and Brunch
It was confused, very confused. And that made it angry…
It was hurt, very hurt. And that made it angrier!
It had been attacked by its kin. The kin had been smaller and weaker than it, but they had been many and they had hurt it. The kin forced it from its territory, driving it to where the big fire ball in the sky rose up from when the dark time ended. Why though? Why had the kin attacked it so suddenly? It didn't understand, it couldn't comprehend any of it.
And that made it furious…
For a long time, it raged. It broke and threw and smashed everything it saw. It thought if it broke enough things the answers to its questions would be answered.
They weren't.
It would have continued raging, but its kin found it. It killed many of them, but they kept coming. It knew if it kept fighting it would die eventually, overcome by its numberless kin. So it fled again, in the direction of the rising ball of fire.
It ran long and it ran far. It came across more kin killing kin. It helped the kin that did not try to attack it and together they killed the murderous kin, but it knew there would be more.
It forced the kin that did not attack it to follow it towards the place where the ball of fire rose. It was the oldest and biggest, it knew more things than the not so old kin, so they followed it. As the pack ran, it came across more battling kin. Many tried to kill them, but others joined them. Soon, the pack became large, larger than its old pack had been before the madness happened. Many different types of kin made up this new pack, but none like itself, none that could challenge its right to lead the pack.
They kept heading towards the place where the fire ball rose. They followed it without question, without doubt. They didn't know any better, all they knew was that they had a better chance with the pack than by themselves.
But it knew better, it knew a lot of things. What it did not know was why this had happened. What had they done to warrant this slaughter? Had they offended the creator who made them? Did they attack a place they were not supposed to attack? Maybe they had accidently eaten prey the creator was fond of.
It couldn't understand, nothing made sense to its small, but still better than its kin's, mind. The world was upside down.
And that made it angry…
Angry…
Angry…
… It smelled anger…
It smelled anger! And not just anger. It could smell hatred, frustration, fear, grief, so many delicious emotions! Its kin could smell them too. They snarled and squealed and hissed with hunger, all wanting to track down the emotions' source and eat it, but it kept them from doing so.
Something was… wrong. The emotions felt strange, out of the ordinary. They did not feel like they normally did, they kind of felt like… like kin… but also, they felt not like kin.
Like kin… but not like kin…
… Like kin …
… But not like kin …
… …
…This was it!
It all made sense! Suddenly, everything about the kin killing kin made sense!
This was the cause of it all! This strange feeling of kin/not kin was the reason for the kin killing each other. It had to be some new trick made up by the prey to fight against it and its kin, the pack had to be close to it, and if they could sense it now then they just had to be close to it!
They needed to break the trick, stop it from causing confusion and death. If they destroyed it then everything would go back to normal.
It glared hard in the direction the bad feeling was strongest and determined that was where it was.
It roared in rage, rising onto its legs and beating its chest in anticipation of the coming mayhem. Its kin saw this and let loose their own howls and roars before charging forward towards the source of the bad feeling, all knowing what they had to do…
It would stop the prey from using their trick. It would smash and beat and tear them and their trick apart. It would return sanity to its kin and deliver punishment to its prey!
For its kin, and for its Dark Mistress…
~o0o~
"Clean up those blood stains! Get those bodies out of sight now!" Flinch ordered the Thralls with impatience. "Master will be here soon and I will not have this place looking like a damned slaughter pit when he arrives!" A sudden quartet of screams from one of the barracks drew an irritated scowl from the slave. "And will someone silence those wretches already!? We have more important things worry about than torture at the moment."
The station was abuzz with activity. Dozens of Thralls busied themselves making the station as presentable as they could for their master's arrival. Bloodstains were cleaned up, equipment was put away, weapons and bone armor were cleaned, half-eaten corpses were stored for later consumption, and, as the sudden lack of screaming indicated, aggravatingly resilient prisoners were knocked unconscious.
And directing this whole effort from an overlooking balcony structure on the main tower was Flinch. She overviewed everything from her roost, shouting into the intercom whenever she saw something that needed taking care of or when she decided the Thralls needed some… motivation.
"If those flayed corpses aren't hanging over the east gate in five minutes, I will rip your masks off and beat you to death with them!"
One of her personal guards gave an amused, and poorly suppressed, snort at her threat. A venomous glare from her killed any humor it felt instantly and she turned back to supervise the station's preparations for their master's arrival.
This whole expedition had been one of the most stressful things in the slave's entire life. At first it was easy, clear out the support station, wipe out the surrounding villages, enthrall anyone that looked useful; but as the attacks went on the more Flinch started to notice the number of stragglers that escaped their assaults, forcing her to send out hunting parties into the wild to track down and kill them. Easier said than done. The people knew the terrain, her Thralls did not. They would set traps, ambushes, doing everything in their power to hamper their pursuers.
She had lost scores of Grimm and over a dozen Thralls in these hunts. Their resistance only lasted so long however. Once Flinch ordered Amor and the two Thralls that always shadowed her to put an end to these annoyances, the stragglers were flushed out and slaughtered. If only that were the end of her problems…
The technicians and soldiers stationed in the outpost had proven themselves extremely stubborn. They had attempted no less than six escape plans and despite being brutally tortured for weeks four of them still held out. The west breeds them tough it seemed.
Granted, had they not their master's impending arrival to prepare for, Flinch would have taken pleasure with breaking such strong-willed individuals. The villages around Vale rarely had anything to offer that was as challenging as one of these western Outliers, and Flinch relished the chance to test her skills on stronger victims.
Unfortunately, they had a deadline to meet, so business took precedence over pleasure.
Flinch was just about to order the Thralls to work faster when a chorus of furious roars echoed from the east. The Thralls all stopped in their tasks and turned to look in the direction of the roaring, as did Flinch and her guardians. She gazed out over the walls from her balcony trying to spy the source of the noise, when her view was obstructed by the last thing she expected to see.
A flying beowolf.
The lupine Grimm soared over the wall with the grace of a stunned goose and landed with about as much finesse as one too. The Grimm shook off any disorientation it might have felt from such a jarring impact, and proceeded to do something that both surprised and horrified Flinch.
It charged the Thralls…
Unprepared for such an unprovoked and unthinkable action the Thralls were slow to react to this new threat, giving the beowolf enough time to close in with the nearest Thrall and rip its head right off. The other Thralls rushed forward to avenge their brother. They hacked and jabbed at the beast with swords and axes while the Grimm retaliated with claws and fangs. Numbers and Aura proved the winning factor though, and the beowolf was quickly brought down.
Only for two more to come flying over the wall…
Surprised but no longer stunned, those Thralls holding guns took aim with their weapons and opened fire on the soaring Grimm. One was riddled with bullet holes, but the other landed with only minor injuries and charged into the crowd of Thralls with its claws raised.
More beowolves followed them, some thrown over like the first three but most had scaled the station's wall and were now jumping down from the battlements to join the growing battle in the station grounds below. The cacophony of combat grew steadily as Thralls met Grimm with ferocity equal to their own.
From atop her balcony, Flinch watched it all unfold with stunned horror. What was happening? Why were the Grimm attacking them? Had something driven them here? Had Master sent them? Were they sick? Driven mad by some unknown disease that made them unable to tell friend from foe?
The sound of splintering wood and bending metal snapped the slave out of her stupor as the eastern gate was smashed open and a horde of Grimm poured into the complex. Confusion and pandemonium reigned as the Thralls fought on against the one thing they had no experience fighting outside their hosts' memories… Grimm.
Flinch turned to her guards with panic in her eyes. "What's happening!?" She said, more so out of some instinctual desperate hope they might know the answer than out of any logical assumption that they knew the reason.
The two Thralls had drawn their weapons and were walking towards the edge of the balcony. "We do not know, Overseer," the one who had been Adam Taurus answered, "but these Grimm seek to destroy the support station, and therefore impede the Master's plans. We cannot allow that to happen."
The two then jumped off the balcony and into the chaos below with their weapons raised. The one that was once Adam Taurus landed atop the back of a creep, its sword piercing the Grimm's cranium like it were made of butter. The Thrall captured by Mistress Silver, the one Flinch had come to calling Gore, struck the ground beneath it with its mace, creating a small impact crater and sending several of the feral Grimm into the air.
As the two became lost in the increasing melee, Flinch watched on for several more moments before she too decided to join the battle.
The Thrall was right. They could not allow this station to fall, to do so would be to invite their master's wrath, and Flinch would rather face this horde than his terrible fury.
The slave took BudemVor and Obedience from their holsters before following the two Thralls' example and launching herself from the balcony. As she fell, Flinch rotated and flung BudemVor out towards the railing of the balcony she had just left. The hooked whip latched onto the metal and halted the slave's descent midfall. Flinch raised Obedience and fired the weapon into the horde rushing through the open gate while also swinging herself back and forth until her feet reached the side of the support tower's wall. Pushing herself off the wall with as much strength as she could, Flinch propelled herself forward. BudemVor, somehow sensing its mistress's intent, released its hold on the railing so that Flinch was sent flying into the horde.
Flinch landed atop the dissolving corpse of an ursa that Obedience had killed. Before she could reload her pistol, a dozen Grimm charged at the slave, intent on killing her. They did not get the chance to even pose a threat. With a flick of her wrist, Flinch swatted them aside with BudemVor, the Grimm whip's hook cutting through their black hides as if they were made of cloth.
A moment bought, Flinch took the opportunity to reload Obedience. Taking her eyes off the foe for only a few seconds, Flinch slammed two fresh clips into the pistol and brought it to bear-
Pain flooded her body, and suddenly all she could see was the sky above her. Flinch hit the ground with a skid before rising to her feet. She shook away the dizziness that accompanied the unexpected blow, and shot a glance at the one responsible.
The Grimm standing in the gateway was nearly the size of Mistress's bull-apes, yet where her Grimm bore the head and hind legs of a bovine, this beast did not. It held the visage of a great mountain gorilla, though far more monstrous than the original beast ever could be. Scars and wounds covered its body, displaying both the Grimm's endurance and age.
It bellowed and beat its chest in challenge before charging towards Flinch. The slave fired several bursts at the brute, but it shrugged the bullets off like they were mosquito bites and kept on coming. Just before the beast reached her Flinch rolled out of its path, causing the Grimm to stumble and skid to a halt two dozen yards behind her.
With the Grimm's back turned to her, Flinch activated her Semblance. Her vision gained a yellow tint as her eyes scanned the beast for weakness. Almost instantly, she picked out the vulnerable elbow and knee joints of the beast and its lightly armored back. Knowing her weapons were not well suited for precise strikes against the Grimm's small joints, Flinch decided to focus her efforts on the creature's back.
She dismissed her Semblance, and the world returned to its natural hues just as the beast turned itself about to face her once again. The Grimm glared at her with its beady, hate-filled eyes, and she glared right back at it with equal rancor until her eyes drifted to a shape approaching swiftly from its right.
Just as the beast made to charge Flinch once more, the white-plated form of Armor collided with the ape. The smaller Grimm latched onto the larger beast's right side and sunk its teeth into the ape's thick neck. The feral roared in pain and tore Armor from its shoulder and slammed the older Grimm into the ground with tremendous force. It then raised both its arms up over its head to deliver the killing blow, but Flinch would not allow it.
Just as the beast made to end the beowolf, Flinch struck at it with BudemVor. With a crack like thunder, the whip slashed across the Grimm's face, wracking off flesh and bone plate faster than could be visually processed. The stinging pain of the whip sent the ape Grimm stumbling backwards, cupping its wounded face in its oversized fists as it roared in agony.
Sensing an opportunity, Armor rose back up and resumed its attack on the feral Grimm. Flinch made to aid the ancient Grimm, but as she brought up her pistol to fire at it, she was reminded that the ape Grimm was not the only feral present.
There was no warning when the creep slammed into her from behind. The Grimm pushed Flinch hard into the ground, using one of its powerful legs to keep the slave pinned. Flinch struggled and thrashed under the Grimm's weight, trying to break free. She could feel the creep's hot breathe hit the back of her neck, smell the rotten flesh of its last meal lodged between its teeth. It hissed at her, almost triumphantly, and then… nothing…
The creep's jaw did not clamp down on her head, it did not crush her beneath its weight, it did nothing.
In fact, its hold felt as if it had lightened. Not about to let this opportunity slip past her, Flinch once more attempted to get free of the creep. It offered no resistance and the slave managed to remove herself from its grasp.
Flinch got to her feet and turned to face the Grimm, ready to kill it then and there, but she did not when she saw it. The creep seemed… frozen? No… more like paralyzed. It looked like it was trying to move, but was held in place by some unseen force.
Flinch would have thought further on this, if she had not suddenly realized how deathly silent it had become…
She looked around and was shocked by what she saw. Every one of the feral Grimm had been frozen in place, just like the one that had pinned her was. They were all petrified in an assortment of different poses, striking, running, roaring, poising to jump and so many more, they were statues in a garden.
The only Grimm that seemed unaffected were the Thralls and Armor. They could still move freely, but for some reason did not take any action against the helpless Grimm outside of removing themselves from their reach. They were also all looking out to the east expectantly, almost as if waiting for something.
Flinch let her gaze follow the Thralls', and saw what they had all stopped to watch…
A giant nevermore, alone and flying towards them… and the slave knew…
She did not know how or why she knew, but she did. She could feel it now, like fingertips grazing the very edges of her mind…
Master was here…
~o0o~
The Overlord's assumptions had proven themselves true once more. As it had suspected, the support station had been struck by the usurper's Grimm. It had felt the rage and anger born from the conflict between its Thralls and the false Grimm, the intensity of it growing sharper the closer it drew.
It could feel Thralls die, felt their masks dissolve and return into it to be remade at later times. It could feel Flinch, her own rage and fear standing out in the mire of instinctual fury generated by the Thralls and Grimm.
She was struggling, that much it could tell from her panic. Flinch was struggling against an imitation that her emotions told her would end her.
The Overlord would not allow that. Flinch was its slave, its possession, its to do with as it saw fit, its to kill or not kill. It would not let something as deplorable as an imitation Grimm kill its slave.
Reaching out with its mind, the Overlord extending its demanding spirit in the direction of the station with a single command:
'Be still…'
The effect was instantaneous. Their weak and simple minds stood no chance against the terrible might of the Overlord's mind and they halted in their tracks. They offered nothing that could be counted as resistance and the Overlord easily kept its hold over them. In fact, the amount of willpower required to keep these mockeries still was almost insulting in its minuteness. Even the oldest of their number possessed a will no stronger than that of a hound.
These Grimm were either extremely young, or the usurper was weaker than it had originally thought. The Overlord hoped it was the latter of those two choices, for it would make dealing with the usurper that much easier as creatures that possessed such paltry wills would be controlled by an equally weak-willed master.
As it held the imitations in place, the station came into view. A solitary tower of metal bordering a sea of green on one side and mountains on the other. As the raven drew closer, the Overlord could make out shapes of black and white around the tower. Many stood motionless, frozen in a multitude of stances, but others were not so confined and moved around the frozen shapes with caution.
As it scanned the ground about the tower, the Overlord saw no space large enough for the great raven to set down. It would need to land the raven further away, but it did not desire to waste valuable time searching for a site to land.
So to save time, the Overlord ordered the raven to fly low over the station and as it soared just a few yards above the station's walls, the Overlord dismounted.
It landed feet first atop one of the paralyzed Grimm, shattering the creature's spine and sending up a plume of dust as its descending weight forced the now dead beast violently to the ground. The creature's body evaporated completely before the dust cloud settled, leaving behind only the shallow crater created by the Overlord's landing.
The dust cleared, and revealed the Overlord's slave standing just a few yards away from it. Flinch wore an expression of relief upon her face, but her relief was intermixed with feelings of confusion and fear.
It was not ignorant to what brought about these emotions. Flinch had not yet been made aware of the existence of the usurper or its imitations. For all she knew, these Grimm that had attacked the station were the Overlord's beasts.
It needed to enlighten its slave to the current situation, clear up her confusion and-
The Overlord's train of thought halted when it noticed something behind Flinch. It was standing some six yards from the slave, frozen with its massive arms raised over its small head. Fresh wounds and old scars covered its densely-muscled body, most obvious of the collection being the deep slash cut running down its face.
But what drew the Overlord's attention to the Grimm was that it did not recognize its breed. It saw qualities of its daughter's bull-apes, but it was too small and far less armored than Silver's creation.
It was something… unfamiliar… a Grimm that the Overlord did not know…
And that meant only one thing…
The Overlord strode out of the crater where it stood and towards this unknown Grimm. Flinch quickly stepped out of its path as it past her by, the slave desperately wanting to ask what was happening but knowing it was in no mood to answer questions. As it drew closer, it called forth a weapon into its gauntleted fist, an action of such obvious intent that it broke the Thralls out of their stupor and had them advancing on the other imitations with their own weapons raised.
It saw the beast was trembling now, trying to break free of its influence and defend itself from the approaching threat. It was a futile attempt, the Overlord's mental grip over the creature was absolute. It might be the spawn of the usurper but it was still a Grimm, and all Grimm obeyed the will of the Overlord.
And for these Grimm, that will demanded they die.
With a mighty swing, the Overlord brought its mace down on the head of the ape Grimm. The blow crushed the beast into a crater of blackened paste with two huge arms sticking out like a pair of malformed water reeds in a pond.
As the black puddle evaporated and returned to the usurper, the sounds of blades slashing flesh and guns firing alerted it to the Thralls performing similar executions on the rest of the false Grimm. Within seconds, every Grimm that was not of the Overlord's blood was killed and the support station was made secure once again.
"M-M-Master…?" Flinch's voice drew the Overlord to look down towards it slave. The Dustling was still visibly shaken by the whole ordeal, but thankfully not to the degree that she was hysterical. "W-what-"
"Not… Mine…" It snarled out, pointing at the crater that was once the ape Grimm with its mace. "Not… Silver's…"
The slave stared at where the Overlord pointed with confused eyes that went wide with understanding as she processed what it was implying. Her gaze shot back up to her master, "T-there's a-another…!?" She squeaked out but did not finish, the weight of the truth robbing her of her voice.
The Overlord only nodded to Flinch, an action that nearly sent the slave to her knees. She managed to steady herself using the ancient hound that always followed her, latching onto an armor segment along its arm.
"W-w-what, w-what does this m-mean?" Flinch asked in a hushed, almost awed voce. "W-what will this mean for your conquest of the west?"
Its more important message spoken, the Overlord did not desire to growl out the answer. It instead relayed it through one of the close-by Thralls.
'The west will be conquered, but first it must be cleansed.' It started, the Thrall repeating the thoughts aloud seconds after hearing them. 'The existence of these imitations will not be tolerated; their eradication must take priority over raiding caravans and nests. The Dustlings can wait, they will be too busy dealing with aftermath of the attack on their eastern nest to pose any sort of threat to us...'
The Overlord went on with its lengthy explanation, its Thrall speaker delivering the words with excellent clarity. As it drew to the end, the massive shadow of the soaring greater raven passed overhead before the avian Grimm landed in the less crowded courtyard with earthshaking force.
'You have performed your purpose here, Flinch. Now you will return with me to the Gulch.' The Overlord made for the Grimm it had rode here on. 'Appoint a leader among the Thralls to take up your position here. Once done, we shall depart for the Gulch.' It halts its stride when it feels the trickle of uncertain fear coming from its slave. 'What is it?'
The slave's gaze went from the speaking Thrall to the Overlord when the question was asked, an expression of bizarre anxiety marring her features. "M-my master," she began hesitantly. "W-what of my Thralls? What of Armor? W-what will become o-of them?"
The Overlord's unrelenting stare bore into its slave, making her flinch and fidget nervously. 'They will follow us in one of the transports here.' It told her, intrigued by the rush of relief that washed over her. 'Now go! Perform your tasks and return here for departure!'
Flinch gave the Overlord a hurried bow before running off to find a Thrall sufficient enough to assume her mantle of controller of this place. As its slave did this, the Overlord summoned forth a dozen ravens, miniature reflections of the massive Grimm waiting to be mounted. In each one, it planted the order to warn all Grimm they come across of the eye-marked Grimm and to kill them on sight. It then cast them to the west, sending them in the direction which it needed them to travel.
A mechanical growl alerts the Overlord to the readiness of Flinch's two Thralls. It glanced over in its direction, spying a four-wheeled machine pull out from its resting place. It made its way towards the eastern gate, and the Overlord spotted the two Thralls that Flinch was so fond of sitting in its front seats while the armored hound stood in the vehicle's back storage area.
Several minutes passed before Flinch returned. She jogged hurriedly towards the Overlord as it turned to mount the greater raven. It watched impassively as the slave climbed up after it, taking position behind it.
Its two riders secure on its back, the raven unfurled its wings and with a great cry began its ascent into the air. Its massive wings flapped loudly as it did this, sending up gusts of wind and dust that battered the Thralls close by. The raven continued to climb further into the sky until it was well above the station walls. It then headed east at all speed, responding to its master's desire for haste.
Flinch's retinue followed from below on their own transport, but the Overlord paid them no mind. Silently, wordlessly, master and slave flew back to the Grimm Gulch where by now Silver and Pup had returned and would be waiting there to greet them. And once it was certain its heir was safe, the Overlord would plan the removal of this threat to its daughter's inheritance…
And it would let loose the full power of the Grimm upon it…
~o0o~
Silver couldn't stop smiling.
She knew she shouldn't be, as it was highly inappropriate given recent events, yet it was these same events that were the source of the heir's current happiness.
Several days ago, that raven came to the ruined nest with a foreboding message from her father, ordering that she return to the Gulch immediately for her own safety. He had discovered the existence of a new threat to them but would not explain what this threat actually was, only that those that bore the false eye must be killed.
It was only a day after receiving the message that Silver realized her father was referring to Grimm, ones that bore markings unfamiliar to her.
The fact that there was another being out there other than herself or her father capable of creating Grimm was a serious cause for concern, especially since they all seemed to be copies of her father's Grimm. That this unknown upstart could copy existing Grimm breeds was unsettling, both for the sheer wrongness of it and the fact that Silver had no idea of how such a feat was possible.
Needless to say, she immediately ordered all Grimm bearing the false eye in the ruins to be hunted down and killed by her Thralls and chompers. They were mostly up on the surface, so Silver was free to let her Grimm deal with them while she and the Thralls hunted down the remaining Beastlings.
Oh, what fun that had been…
This was what had Silver smiling so much. Finally ending this damnable alliance. The heir had reveled in the chance to finally put those cursed Beastlings down since her father sent her to this place to parade around in the skin of a puppet Grimm.
The initial slaughter had been brief but bloody. Thralls and chompers turned on the Beastlings faster than their mortal minds to could comprehend. Scores of them were butchered in the opening moments of the betrayal, even more were enthralled, those few that survived fled deeper into the ruined underground nest where they were hunted down by their former brethren and Silver herself.
The hunts were still ongoing; the Thralls and chompers still stalked the labyrinthine roads of the hidden nest in search of any prey, be it beastling or false Grimm.
Every now and then, Silver would hear gunshots, screams, and roars echoing from somewhere in the nest. She paid them no mind, her bloodlust had been sated by the end of the third day and there were more important matters to attend to.
Silver walked through the cracked streets of the nest with a noticeable skip in her step. With the alliance shattered and all the Beastlings either enthralled, dead, or soon to be dead, the heir no longer had to worry about secrecy and could wander the ruins freely at her leisure. That is not to say she threw caution entirely to the wind. She kept her hood up at all times and was always ready to dive towards the closest shadow at a moment's notice should trouble arise. She was also tailed by the two most dangerous Grimm present in the ruin, both more than capable of eviscerating any Beastling foolish enough to attempt to attack the heir.
Pup and the Siren puppet followed close behind Silver as she traveled down the street. Dark splotches stained the mask and muzzle of both Grimm. Like Silver, both Grimm had taken part in the slaughter and hunting. They ate their fill of Beastling flesh, and the blood of those they devoured still clung to their plates.
As the three walked, they passed Thralls and chompers going about their usual tasks. The Thralls would stop monetarily as Silver strode by them, giving the heir nods of respect before returning to their work while the chompers simply tracked her with their eyeless gaze.
Silver made no move to acknowledge these gestures, and went on without a single glance towards the creatures paying their respects to her.
Soon, the heir and her guardians reached their first destination.
The metal snake rested motionlessly on its tracks as Thralls toiled about its length. The machine's body had undergone a rapid superficial change following the betrayal. Uneven metal spines jutted from its top edges like the quills of a mammoth's back and a snarling maw of steel had been haphazardly welded onto the snake's front. Fetishes of savage Grimm faces and cruel shapes covered its metal hide with more being added across its long body.
As these modifications were being made to the metal snake, its insides were being filled with all manner of supplies and weapons. Metal giants, cosmetically modified in a manner similar to the snake, were loaded onto the snake's open segments or aided in preparing the contraption for its intended purpose.
The Dustling machines carried large, heavy looking objects to the five rear segments of the snake, placing them inside the compartments with great care. Thralls standing by went to work on the objects as soon as the giants released them, checking them and making adjustments when they encountered something irregular. This level of diligence was something that was necessary of the Thralls working on these objects, as each one had the capacity to incinerate everything within fifty yards in an instance.
They were explosives. Bombs. And the metal snake was being filled with dozens of them.
Despite her complete and utter loathing of the creature Cinder, Silver had to admit, (though never openly), that the Dustling's plan was a clever one. Using the metal snake as a battering ram to create an opening in the one place the Dustlings would least expect and unleashing hordes of Grimm into the center of the nest was as cunning as it was ambitious, more so considering what Cinder had planned for after the assault.
True to his word, the Dustling Roman Torchwick told Silver everything he knew about Cinder's schemes. He told her that this attack was never meant to succeeded, only invoke paranoia and place Roman in the holding cell of one of the great metal birds that hovered over the nest. He explained that he was to wait there until Cinder did… something that would attract the Grimm, upon which Roman would be broken out of his cell, take control of whatever metal bird he was on, destroy the rest, and force the iron golems of the Dustlings to slaughter their creators, sowing terror and drawing in even more Grimm.
To say Silver was jealous of Cinder's deception would be an understatement. She was absolutely furious she hadn't thought of this plan herself! She was the Grimm Heir, a terrible creature of great cunning and power, and she had been outsmarted by a disgusting Dustling!
However, Silver took heart in the fact that Cinder's full plan would not come to pass. The assault on the nest would succeed. Grimm and Thralls would pour out from underneath the Dustlings' feet, they would slaughter all before them with claw and blade and bullet, they would strike the metal birds from the sky and tear their crews apart. The Hunters' lair would be reduced to rubble, its warriors tortured and enthralled, made to serve those they once fought.
The eastern nest would fall, and Silver Rose, daughter and heir to the Overlord of all Grimm, would be the one to fell it.
Oh, the thought of such destruction made the heir feel all giddy inside, she had to push down the urge to squeal in excitement! Of course, had there only been Thralls and Grimm around she would have squealed to her heart's content, but they were not the only ones near her. There was another present…
Silver scanned the crowd of Thralls until she spotted the hat-covered head of Roman Torchwick overseeing the preparations. She walked towards him, silently. The Dustling was preoccupied with his assigned task and did not notice Silver as she stalked up behind him.
A mischievous smile crept onto the heir's face. Noiselessly, she threw her claws out and took hold the Dustling's shoulders and dragged him down to her level. "Hello, Roman." Silver whispered into his ear with cheerful menace, causing the male to stiffen in barely contained fear.
Roman tried to stutter out a response, but the words were cut off as Silver whirled him around and let go of his shoulders. The move unbalanced the Dustling, prompting him to lose his footing and fall on his behind. Roman rubbed his head with a grimace half-hidden under his hat before looking up to see the heir looking down at him from atop a nearby stack of crates.
Three days of being hunted through the ruins of a Dustling nest had not been kind to the Dustling thief. His orange hair was unkempt and dirty, its previous luster gone. His clothes were ripped and stained, his once white coat was now sullied in the light-gray hue of dust. Two long scab lines ran down the left side of his grime covered face, put there by Silver during his interrogation when he became… reluctant to answer her questions.
It disappointed her slightly that he had been so cooperative with her. Silver had wanted to torture the secrets out of him. She had tortured scores of Dustlings for fun, but never to learn things. She had wanted to try her claw at it, determine how many cuts it took for a Dustling to talk compared to how many it took for them to scream away their voice.
But Roman had offered practically no resistance. All Silver did was scratch up his face a little and he told her everything. Granted, she supposed it was better this way as it saved a significant amount time, but that didn't mean she was entirely happy about it.
So, naturally, Silver let her displeasure with Roman's submissiveness known to the thief by repeatedly stabbing her claws into his back in a painful but nonfatal manner. She might have been a little sloppy though, nicked a nerve or something because the thief couldn't walk without his back hunching now. But that was neither here nor there.
"H-Hey, Boss," Roman squeaked out, unmoving from his place on the floor. "Is there, uh, something you wanted?"
Silver smiled beneath her hood and nodded then slipped down from her perch. "Come with me," She ordered, not even bothering to wait for his response before walking away. The Dustling quickly did as was commanded of him and fell in line between Pup and the Siren.
But Silver did not want him behind her. She desired to speak with him. With a quick gesture of her left claw, Silver beckoned the Dustling to her side. He must have not understood it, at least not right away. It took a snarl from Pup to get the male to move up to Silver's side.
"How goes the preparations?" Silver asks after a moment, "Are we still on schedule?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah. We're actually ahead of schedule," He answered with hesitation present in each word, clearly afraid that his next word could be his last should he offend her. "Those Red Wolves of yours have really sped things up. They-"
"Thralls, Roman. Call them Thralls." Silver cut in. "Do not belittle them by using some title created by frightened prey and cowards. You will call them what they are and nothing else."
If there was one thing Silver hated about Dustlings, it was their insufferable tendency to name their predators. She understood they were not aware of the true names of the Grimm that hunted them, but they could at least guess to it rather than come up with complete nonsense.
Honestly, boarbatusk? Beowolf? King Taijitu? Nevermore? Kokushi?
It was like they were trying to be clever instead of practical. Did any of them actually know how to pronounce even half of those names?
Stupid creatures. Silver would be sure to beat that absurd mindset out of Roman after the nest fell, if he proved himself reliable enough to become her slave that is.
"R-right," the Dustling thief acknowledged. "The 'Thralls' are almost done rigging the train. Everything should be ready to go by tomorrow night."
"Excellent." Silver remarked, her smile hidden within the shadows of her hood. She had already suspected as much, but hearing it gave the heir a level of satisfaction she was hesitant to pass up. "And Cinder? You are certain she and her two pets will be there during the attack?"
Silver turned her head to look at him, she saw his hesitation and felt his fear. "Not… exactly," He admitted carefully. "Cinder kept everything on a need to know basis. She only told me my part in all of this, but… Neo…" He paused and Silver tasted his grief and sorrow, "Neo told me they were still in Vale before we left, so there's a good chance they haven't left."
Silver kept her eyes on the Dustling a little while longer before turning her gaze forward. "Ah, we are here!" She announced aloud, abandoning the conversation in favor of her original goal for the day.
They had arrived in front of one of the many ruined structures that filled this cavern. It was fairly small when compared to the towers that surrounded it, and a dangling sign depicting some sort of food product betrayed this building's past as a Dustling eatery.
She saw a pillar of smoke escaping through a hole in its roof and the smell of cooking meats filled her nose. Its aroma was mouthwatering, and even Roman seemed allured by the smell, if the overly loud sniffs he made were an indicator.
"What is that smell?" He asked with a surprisingly wistful voice.
"It is why I have brought you here," Silver answered. "You have been obedient, Roman. You have answered my questions truthfully and have continued to be… useful in this operation of ours. And as everyone knows, a good slave such as yourself deserves a reward for his service." Silver felt the Dustling's irritation at being called a slave, though he wisely kept his mouth shut. "Thus, I have had one of the Thralls prepare a meal of impressive quality for you and me to enjoy this day. I assumed you would enjoy something other than the scraps you've been eating as of late… Was I wrong to assume such?"
She cast her eyes up at the Dustling, silently daring him to object to her generosity. As she expected, he did not.
"No, no, no," he said quickly, waving his hands as he spoke. "You were dead on the money! I'd love to have some hot food, especially when it smells that good."
Silver smiled beneath her hood and nodded. She and Roman walked into the ruined building, leaving Pup and the Siren outside to wait for them to finish. The interior of the building was just barely less delipidated than the exterior. All the ceiling lamps were dead and more than half had fallen to the floor. Many of the tables and chairs were scattered across the floor, some broken some not, with dust and cobwebs covering them so greatly that Silver could not make out their original coloring.
But in the center of the room there was a break in the darkness and dust. A simple wooden table and two matching chairs, each piece of furniture free of any dust or grime. Atop the table sat two silver candlesticks, illuminating the space with a faint but distinct light.
Silver walked over to the table, leisurely making her way to one of the two seats before sitting down in it. Roman did not move to join her right away. Rather, he stared at the heir with an expression full of suspicion and uneasiness. He still possessed a shred of defiance it seemed.
Silver extended her claw out towards the thief and with deliberate slowness beckoned him come hither with a single digit.
That simple gesture reminded the Dustling of his situation and he quickly took his place at the side opposite to her. They sat there, silently waiting for Roman's promised meal to come.
They did not have to wait very long. Only a few minutes after taking their seats, the door leading into the kitchen section of the building swung open and a Thrall wearing a blood-stained apron came out carrying a large covered tray.
The smell was stronger now, enough so that the heir could separate the smell of the meat from that of the spices and sauces the Thrall had marinated it in. Many of them were exotic and foreign to the heir, she could only identify two of them, salt and pepper, the rest were unknown to her.
Unknown or not however, the food smelled wonderful, far better than anything Flinch had made. Granted of course, the slave had been taken for her knowledge of Dust and Aura, not her cooking skills, (not to say she was not an adequate cook), this Thrall however had been the best chef in its nest, according to its memories. It had reigned undisputed for years before a Grimm attack sent it scurrying to one of the four large nests where it faced animosity for its beast heritage. One thing led to another and, well… that didn't matter anymore, did it?
Silver and Roman watched the Thrall cook set the tray down between them. Then, with a certain degree of drama, the Thrall removed the cover and revealed two metal plates each bearing a thick cut of meat.
Again, Silver's mouth began to water.
The cuts of meat had been cooked to a perfect pale hue with just a hint of pink in their centers and they had been drizzled with a delectable smelling sauce and sprinkled with an assortment of spices. A single slice of mushroom sat in the middle of both steaks, surrounded by a halo of wild herbs.
Silver licked her lips beneath her hood, eager to taste the Thrall's work.
It set the plates down in front of its two patrons, which were followed by a pair of napkins for the two of them and a set of cutlery for Roman. With its task complete, the Thrall bowed its head to Silver and left the two to their meal.
Roman eyed the plate before him with a stunned expression. His gaze traveled up to meet Silver's own, waiting for her to do something.
Silver inclined her head at Roman. "Go ahead, Roman," She told him. "This is your reward. Tis only fitting you take the first bite."
Roma's face adopted an expression Silver could not place, a sort of nervous gratitude, then picked up the knife and fork provided for him and cut off a piece. He shoved the piece into his mouth and chewed it slowly, savoring its flavor and texture before swallowing it and going for another piece.
Silver watched him eat that next piece before setting her focus on her own steak. Having no need for Dustling utensils, Silver cut her meat with her claws, using one to slice into the steak with surprising delicateness while another held it in place. As she brought the sliver of flesh to her mouth she noticed Roman's eyes on her and the lingering fear that wafted from him. Had the circumstances been slightly different, Silver might have taken the time to address Roman before taking a bite of her meal, to taunt and frighten the slave and drink deep from his terror.
But for once, Silver did not care about striking fear into the hearts of Dustlings. This meal took precedence over that. Silver had put this off for far too long.
She placed the piece of meat in her mouth. The taste was the first thing to hit her. It was something akin to the wild boar she sometimes hunted, but it was much sweeter and covered with spices and sauce that both complimented and enhanced the flavor beyond her expectations.
She started to chew.
It was so incredibly tender, and each bite sent explosions of flavor along her tongue. Silver closed her eyes to better enjoy the taste, moving the piece of meat around in her mouth, turning it over and over again with her tongue. A pleased sound emanated from her throat as she did this, and she felt Roman's fear dissipate.
When Silver finally swallowed the piece, it was done almost reluctantly. She quickly cut herself another slice of meat and once more experienced the deliciousness of the meat. The sound of metal scrapping against metal let her know Roman had resumed eating, cutting into his own steak with his knife and fork.
The two continued to eat in silence, both content with enjoying their meal.
When they were finally finished all that remained on their plates was a shallow pool of brown sauce. Roman leaned back in his chair and gave a satisfied sigh.
"That was the best thing I've had in weeks." He said without a hint of hesitation. Apparently, a good meal made Dustlings forget their current company, even when said company could disembowel them with a mere flick of the wrist.
"I will admit, this has certainly exceeded my expectations," Silver added approvingly, "Now I know why Thralls crave this meat so much."
Roman let out an amused snort, "Is that why I've never seen them eat before? They all worried someone's going to come and take their pork?"
At those words, Silver smiled villainously beneath her hood. "Pork?" She inquired with a voice of false innocence. "This is not pork."
Roman's face twisted with confusion. "What are you talking about? 'Course that was pork! I might be a thief but I've had my fair share of fancy dishes in my life and that was definitely pork tenderloin."
Silver couldn't hold back the giggle brought through from his oblivious denial, it was simply too humorous. "Oh I assure you Roman Torchwick, what we just enjoyed was most definitely not pork."
Ignorance still marred the Dustling's features. "Well, what was it then?"
"Let me ask you a question, Roman," Silver began, leaning forward in her seat and making Roman flinch back. His fear returned with the movement as he broke out of his food-induced bliss and remembered who was sitting across from him and what she was capable of doing to him. "Where did all the Beastling corpses go?"
He blinked at the question. "What does that-"
"You know that many Beastlings have been killed over these past few days, yet you have not seen any bodies, have you?" Silver interrupted, sitting up from her seat and walking over to Roman, "How can that be, Roman? How is that you have not seen any dead Beastlings, what happened to all of them?"
She leaned forward and right into the Dustling's ear whispered, "What happened to your friend Neo?"
Slowly, sluggishly, the Dustling's mind processed her words. A sudden spike of horror brought out a smile across Silver's face as the thief finally started to comprehend the implication of her question. His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes bulged in their sockets and face turned a deathly pale as his gaze shakily trailed down towards his empty plate.
"No…" Roman whispered, the terrified disgust clear in his hushed voice. "No, no, I didn't… Oh, God, no…" Silver took a step back as the Dustling tried to back away from the table, forgetting he had been sitting down. The chair fell backwards, taking Roman with it, but he was too caught up in his horrified revulsion to care. "No, no, no, no! Oh, my God, no!" He pushed himself away from the table until his back was pressed against the wall of the building. "I… I didn't… I…" The Dustling's mantra of denial was interrupted quite suddenly as he emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor.
"Oh, but you did, Roman Torchwick…" Silver corrected when the Dustling ceased vomiting. "You ate Neo. Devoured her like a starved wolf. And you enjoyed it, relished the sweetness of her flesh, savored each bite you took."
"No! No I didn't! I didn't!" The Dustling clasped its hands over its ears as it screamed its denial, like the words were painful to listen to.
"But you did, Roman!" Silver shot back, amused mirth clear in her voice. She reached forward and wrenched the Dustling's hands away from its ears, uncaring of the blood that flowed from where her claws sliced into his flesh. "You ate Neo," She repeated with a fanged smile, "You ate her and you did it with a smile on your face."
The Dustling emerald eyes stared into the black emptiness of Silver's hood, searching for something to lock onto. "Wh-Why…?" He stammered out. "Why would you do this?"
Silver could not help herself when she heard that question, she laughed. It was not as mocking or intimidating as it probably should have been, given the situation. It was genuine in its nature, born from true amusement rather than a desire to instill fear.
"Why?" Silver managed to say through her mirth, only to be overcome by another wave of giggles. "Is it not so obvious, Roman?" The Dustling did not answer her, it was too overwhelmed with horror, but Silver took it as leave to answer her own question.
"I did it because I wanted to. Because I no longer need you intact to accomplish what we have set out for." With a thought, she called for the Siren to enter the building. The Grimm slithered through the door, its mandibles twitching in anticipation as it eyed the broken creature lying before its mistress.
"Take him to the head of the train." Silver ordered the Grimm aloud so Roman could hear her. "Have the Thralls restrain him to one of the bars." She looked back down at the whimpering wreck of Dustling, an almost caring smile gracing her concealed features. "You have done so much for us, Roman, it is only right that I allow you to see this through to the end."
The Siren reached down with a hiss and scooped the Dustling up in its clawed hands. Roman gave no attempt to resist the Grimm as it took it, too caught up in its rambling madness to notice or care.
Silver watched the Siren slither back out the door of the structure before walking back to the table and taking her seat.
'Thrall,' Silver called out, 'Bring me a second helping.'
Author's Note: Shit is about to go down! Finally, I can start working on the Mountain Glenn stuff! I cannot wait. But I have to. I have a bunch of college assignments I need to get done so the amount of time I have to writing this story will be significantly cut. It isn't hiatus level, I just won't get as much done as I usually do… which isn't that much already.
THAT'S RIGHT, BITCHES! THIS IS NOW CANON! MUHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, I've been trying to get this dining scene into the story for a while and I am happy I decided to actually go through with it. And for all you Roman fans, don't worry, our favorite thief isn't out of the picture yet. But that doesn't mean I'm going to pull any punches with him. I have such plans for you Roman… Such plans indeed…
Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter!
As Always: Please, Fav, Follow, and Review! Thank You!
DeadRich18 Out!
