(-=Prologue=-)
A/N: All right, so, yes, it's been a while, all that jazz, yatta yatta. I wanted to address some of the questions/topics brought up by those who left reviews on my prior chapter, as I don't know how to make those public aside from this. First off, if anyone has questions or left a review on a much earlier chapter, I will be more than glad to answer your question or respond via PMing. Secondly, I can't tell you how much I value your input.
To Nerd315: Thanks a bunch. I personally think Coal is the least likable character in my story so far, but if you enjoy the writings on Azure, you'll be glad to know I'm dedicating the next dozen chapters to Azure and Ash, kind of like what I've done for Coal and Sylvia the past dozen chapters and so.
To Frost: Thanks for taking an interest. Totally still continuing the story, as made evident by this chapter, but I have a lot of things planned for this little story. Events, minor distractions that I let eat up my time way too much, and general laziness has made me stretch the deadline to nonexistence. The chapters from now on might just update whenever, but they will eventually update. Maybe once a month or every other week. Or, once in a blue moon, two chapters will be released a week apart.
Thanks for reading, and if you decided to skip over this, I don't blame ya. Without further ado, here's what you actually came for.
(-=End Prologue=-)
Chapter 49: Restraint
Mankind remains one of the most profound species to traverse Remnant. Possessing a will, emotions, and morals, humans rarely take notice of the anomalies that make up their entire being, that separate them from the prowling beasts. One of the most prominent of these differences is their restrictions. Or rather, their lack of. A fish is bound to the waters, forever lurking below the glassy surface. Even the birds, free as the wind, possess countless limitations. But ingenuity and the crave to fuel it allow humans to surpass most boundaries. Indeed, we bear few bindings. At least, in the physical sense.
Mortality remains the strongest shackle of all living creatures, but to one of sentience, many more constrict with tighter grips. The mind is susceptible to all manner of restraints, nearly all a fabrication. They either imprison, preserving their frail sense of self, or they motivate, prompting man towards a higher purpose. Bound by fear, prisoner to duty, a slave to ambition. Even love is an invisible manacle, but of a more pure variant. The bonds we make with others we have chosen to trust, they serve as a tether, but still a shackle in their own sense.
Because of the restraints holding back the human and Faunus races, it is in our nature, in our blood to seek freedom. But to be free of these shackles requires purity. To bear no guilt, hold no grudges, crave no earthly possessions… Such a feat is impossible for a human or Faunus.
(-)
Sorrell was expecting company, and they should be arriving soon. But until their arrival, he had time to think on the progress his minions have made. Roman had successfully invaded the White Fang, and even now, traveled side by side to Vale to rejoin the main branch. Sooner or later, the mystery forces would be hidden no more. But the aristocrat had several worries about the unknown allies the White Fang trusted. How much of a threat they were to himself, whether they'd be willing to cooperate, and if they answered to someone even higher on the chain of command.
But enough about that. All Sorrell can do is prepare for the worst, be it a warm welcome, or war. Which reminded him of Coal. After observing the tests of the aspiring Hunter's capabilities with his Semblance, the aristocrat declared him very valuable. But not completely indispensable. No, there was the issue with Whitley still looming on the horizon. But, that can be solved in due time as well.
Sorrell bobbed his leg up and down as his patience wore thin. There was one loose end that he had to round up. One individual to be off his plate. And when that headache was over, he could shift his focus to more important matters. As he finished that thought, the doors swung open. The aristocrat wore his best smirk to welcome his visitor.
"So good to see you, Gary." He snorted after surveying Gary's state. Hazel colored hair messier than ever, and the new suit Sorrell lent him stained like the others. With silver eyes, the drunkard glared back. "As good as it can be, I suppose."
"Yeah, yeah." Gary answered. "What do you want this time?"
"Oh, no, no. Today isn't about what I want. Today is about what you want." The response sparked hope in Gary's eyes. He clenched his trembling fists and gritted his teeth.
"It's about damn time."
"Heh, you're not the only one to complain about how I overwork my underlings."
"Just shut it and hand it over!" The drunkard barked, marching up to Sorrell's throne. He thrust an open hand at him, and the aristocrat could smell the alcohol clinging to his clothes.
"Now, now," Sorrell cooed. "Live in the moment for a while. All you've striven for is paying off. Your hard work is being rewar-"
"The relations between Faunus and humans in Atlas is the worst it's ever been! That was our deal, now give it! Give it to me right now!" Drinking in Gary's agitation, he dropped a Scroll into his palm. The moment it fell into his grasp, the drunkard turned and started browsing the contents with great haste.
"The names of all the prisoners locked up in Vacuo, as well as specific cell numbers. You'll find Griswold there, without a doubt."
"Do not. Say his name." The drunkard spat through gritted teeth. He turned to cast a glare at the aristocrat. "Where's the rest of what I was promised?" Sorrell sighed. With a frown, he snapped his fingers, and Midna came forth holding a platter. On the silver dish sat a handgun and a wallet.
"Enough lien for passage to Vacuo, and a single bullet. Use it well-"
"We're done here." Gary interrupted, already marching off. The aristocrat scowled at Gary's restlessness. It meant he couldn't enjoy all the anger the drunkard had drowned in.
"Off so soon? Not even going to stay for tea?" Seeing how his words never made Gary flinched, he smiled. "One last thing, I would hide those silver eyes of yours. There's a reason he hunted and murdered your daughter." The doors slammed shut, the impact shaking the room. Sorrell scoffed, glaring at the shuddering doors. "We... will not be meeting again."
(-)
The Atlas coliseum flashed with all manner of lights. The rumbling and clamoring of the gathered students and other spectators filled Sylvia with determination. She stepped onto the center, awaiting orders like a soldier. It had taken ages, but she finally mastered that stiff pose Dusk and Winter kept nagging her about. She could see the young soldier beam at her standing to attention.
The others of team Mustard, and even team Canvas had joined the third years to spectate. Since a while back, they had acted as moral support. It felt strange; Sylvia was certain she didn't need anyone's approval or support. But it felt nice to have it. On the edges of the arena stood Winter and the General. Sylvia was no dolt. She knew his presence meant something. She had to put everything she had learned into this fight.
She eyed her opponent, who also stood poised and alert. Tall, dark, and handsome, just as Sherry described Jet during her monologues. Hair as black as the night, true to his name, and draping over parts of his face. Sharp and electric green eyes that stared back into hers, and some facial hair growing on his chin and jaw. Sporting black motorcycle armor with silver linings along the seams, and a sigil on the back.
Curled under his right arm was a matching helmet. Sylvia wondered if that was his actual combat costume or if he drove as a hobby. Him being twenty years old supported that theory. But that made her wonder where his actual weapons were. Is it hidden on him somewhere? Ah well, I'll find out in a minute. Jet put on the helmet, and with both participants ready, Professor Teikoss initiated the fight.
Sylvia pulled her axe out, a little offset by the new weight. She and Dusk worked well into the morning to finalize the modifications. The berserker stood and waited for Jet to draw his own weapons. Instead, she was taken aback when he flew at her at incredible speeds. The hilt of her weapon pulled up in time to have Jet's foot brought to a halt. Then she noticed the intricacy of his boots. Metal plated and customized.
As she peered closer inside the little holes on the sole, they glowed brighter and brighter. A quick burst of fire propelled him back, damaging her in the process. Now I see it. Rocket boots, that's so cool! The berserker switched the placement of her hands on the hilt and charged in. Jet dodged her horizontal swipe with a jump. After reaching the peak of his ascent, he propelled himself downwards quickly, aimed straight for her.
Sylvia twisted her entire body to the right, allowing Jet's kick to hit the floor. Continuing the motion, she pulled her axe around and above her, then crashing into the ground. Jet's boots allowed him to roll out of the way with ease before her axe could claim him. The berserker turned to face him once more. She couldn't tell what expression he wore underneath that wide, tinted visor.
All at once, he jumped up, and zoomed towards her with a spinning kick. She dodged it, and he flew off and returned for another. This time, she blocked his foot with her axe, an open palm pressing against the hilt. The flat of his foot clashing against the blade of her axe. Once he was stopped, she pulled her weapon back and performed a quick jab with the tip. It struck his outstretched leg, swift and true, before he could pull back.
He performed a flip after his rockets carried him back, and rushed her again midair. Except this time, he flew lower than before. Parrying back her axe with the armored cuffs of his sleeve, he went for another spinning kick, this time at her legs. Sylvia fell, but used her hands to flip away before Jet's drop kick could hit her.
With a quick step forward, the berserker swept her axe from below. After it hacked away at his Aura, she spun and repeated her swing. Jet performed a handspring to dodge it, and before landing, kicked her axe away. Sylvia watched her beloved weapon fly off, and paid for her mistake after Jet kicked her in the gut. The berserker jumped back to put some distance between them, but Jet's speed ensured that was little more than wishful thinking.
He closed the distance with incredible speed, and brought his foot down on her head. Sylvia's chin collided against the concrete, but she didn't let her frustration overtake her. She jumped up, landing a good punch on her foe. Before he could recover, she pulled him close and crashed her knee into his gut. As Jet leaned over, hands wrapped around his stomach, Sylvia used what little time she had bought herself to activate her Semblance.
Her body morphed into that of a wolf, and she hopped onto Jet's shoulders, then leaped off of his back. With haste, the berserker ran after where her weapon had landed. She could hear the brief burst of fires behind her and knew Jet was desperate in his chase. But Sylvia was closer to her axe than he, and it only took a moment more before she grabbed it with her mouth.
Jet flew by, grinding his feet against the floor to stop himself. And then he waited. Sylvia took the chance, using her mouth to fling her axe up, before catching it in her human hand again. They were back to where they had started, but the berserker had other tricks up her sleeves. At the press of a hidden button, the head of her axe unlatched and refolded itself. Half of her hilt fell, the echo ringing through the arena over the cheers of her friends.
A moment later, and she raised her heavy machine gun and began firing like mad at Jet. Responding quickly, the fleet fighter dashed off to the left to avoid her spray. Sylvia tracked his movements with little difficulty, jerking her body to follow his path. Eventually, Jet took flight, his rocket powered boots carrying him across the surface of the arena. She could feel the heat climbing its way up her gun. The line of bullets she fed through began to run short as well.
The berserker paused her assault, and reached into a pouch at her waist. She procured a blue Dust crystal, and in the next motion, the barrel of her gun came flying off. But Jet wasn't letting her do this for free. With a hop after landing, he zoomed towards her with a flying kick. Sylvia crouched low, dropping the Dust and the barrel at once. As Jet flew by, the Dust crystallized and encompassed the glowing hot barrel. Sylvia yanked at a loop of bullets wrapped around her waist, and swiftly reloaded her gun and attached the second barrel.
Grunting, she hoisted her gun behind her and fired off. Several bullets struck Jet, forcing him to take off once again. He zigzagged through the air, dodging the bullets flying by. Sylvia began to wonder how long he could fly for, noting the growing heat of her gun again. She stopped, Jet landed, and the two stared each other down for a several seconds. She could see by the rising of his chest that she was wearing him down.
Their gazes held until the ice surrounding Sylvia's discarded gun barrel shattered into countless pieces. The two used the brief pause in their conflict to reload their weapons. Jet slid cartridges of red Dust into slots on the sides of his boots, flinging away the empty ones. All while Sylvia retrieved her other barrel and returned her gun to its original form. They finished at the same time, and the fight resumed like it was never interrupted.
Jet tried for another overhead kick, but Sylvia blocked it off with ease. He then began a barrage of kicks and even threw in a couple punches. Some she managed to dodge and push off, but a couple got through. She seized the opportunity of his close proximity, holding her axe behind her back. She spun, swinging her axe around and around, stepping forward all the while. Jet tried to block each blow that came with her whirling motions.
But when he couldn't handle the force any longer, his arms flew aside, and her axe tore into his Aura. Sylvia finished her rotations after feeling the blow connect, watching her opponent tumble. She risked a glance at the screens overhead. The berserker felt relieved to discover she had over half her Aura left, while Jet was almost depleted. One more hit should finish this.
(-)
General Ironwood rubbed his chin, taking in the fight. He observed every detail of Sylvia's actions, taking careful note of the expressions she wore during the battle. From the moment she stepped onto the arena, only once did she smile at the discovery of Jet's rocket boots. After that, she bore a stiff expression at all times. A notable milestone in her maturation.
"She's improved vastly." He noted.
Winter nodded in agreement. "I can hardly recognize the girl that attacked the professor all that time ago."
"I can." Tyrian added with a smirk. "Her strength hasn't wavered one bit since then. I couldn't believe it when she almost broke through my Semblance."
"Yes, that reminds me." The General stated. "She was threatening another student, Mr. Werner. I've noticed Werner has been spending an awful lot of time in detention since then. Anything on that, professor?"
The titan grumbled. "Ever since she started training with the third years, Werner's become a toxic little brat. I initially assumed bullying, which is why I requested she be put under a different kind of detention. It's seemed to have worked, for the most part. But he still does something at least once a week to land himself into detention again." He scoffed. "It's not like him." They watched as Jet readied something at his wrist. He took off, spiraling around Sylvia, who waited for whatever he may be preparing.
After circling his target, Jet firing a small wired hook from his cuff into the ground at Sylvia's feet. The cord, thick enough to remain strong yet not so much that it's easy to notice, sagged at her feet. And then he drew closer, spinning around her faster and faster. The cord started to tighten against the berserker's ankles. Her realization came to late, and although she severed the wire from the hook, it had already wrapped and bound her legs together.
Still Jet flew around her, entangling her tighter and tighter. She dared not move. The General assumed she knew if she were try and wriggle her way out, she would fall to the ground. He grew curious of her intentions, watching more closely than before. The cord had climbed to her waist, and it seemed that Jet's intention was to tie her entire body. Since his attacks were blunt kicks, he did not risk cutting her bonds himself.
Sylvia dropped her axe as the cord forced her arms against her core. Whatever she had planned, it better be nothing short of a miracle. Jet landed, satisfied with his work, but before he could tug at his trapped prey, Sylvia crouched low and jumped. Once airborne, her body began to change again. Shifting into the form of a wolf like it had earlier. The General gasped in realization at the cords digging into her fur.
Her transformation expanded most of her limbs and her torso, and with the wire still feeding out of Jet's wrist, it had to either allow her room to expand, or snap. Jet panicked, stopping the mechanism in his wristguard. He yanked it back in desperation, but it was too late. At the first sign of leeway, Sylvia brought her paws down, and initiated the change once more. Her body contracted and shrank during the change, allowing her to slip out of Jet's tether with ease.
"She's making great strides." General Ironwood said, impressed. And he was an individual that wasn't impressed often. "Excellent work, the both of you."
"Thank you, sir," Tyrian began. "But the credit goes to Agent Schnee. It was she who took Vadallat under her wing. I know for a fact I had little to do with her change of attitude."
"You flatter me. I am unworthy of such praise." Winter replied.
Once on the ground again, she grabbed at the now stiff string. Before Jet could cut it off, she gave it a hard pull, forcing her opponent off her feet. Once on the ground, there was little else he could but watch as Sylvia stomped down on his chest. The General shifted his gaze to the screens, and Jet's Aura dropped again, changing from yellow to red.
"Match set!" Tyrian bellowed, marching towards the combatants. Sylvia stepped back, and offered a hand to Jet. After looking between her and her hand, he grabbed it without another thought. So the third years accepted her as an equal. Marvelous. She hoisted him onto his feet again, as the titan continued. "The victor is Miss Vadallat! You may return to your seats." Even before he dismissed them, she maintained a stiff and respectful posture matching even Winter's.
"Miss Vadallat." Ironwood called out, grabbing her attention. "A word, please."
"Of course. Is something the matter, Headmaster?" Even her speaking is sublime.
The General smiled as he continued. "Quite the opposite. I wanted to inform you that your detention will cease from this day forth. You must still join the third years in their lessons with Professor Teikoss, but the rest of your punishment has been met."
"Thank you, sir. May I take my leave?"
"Of course." And she was off. She held her composure with extraordinary control, something he was sure he had Winter to thank for. "I want to thank you again, Agent Schnee. I'm sorry to have tasked you with this. It must have cut in with your sister's training."
"It's no trouble at all, sir." Winter smiled. "And thank you for taking Weiss into consideration. Her lessons will continue as planned, and I am sure she will be ready for Atlas Academy in time for the next semester."
"I look forward to it. Though, I must know something. You have spent more time with Miss Vadallat than anyone. Do you think she would be Special Operatives material?"
(-)
"I did it!" Sylvia announced with glee, ignoring her lunch. "I finally did it! I am officially off the hook!"
Dusk smiled at her, but the shift in his gaze told her he was thinking otherwise. "Technically, your third period is still spoken for until next year."
"Yeah, but I get to finally join you guys for gaming after school! I'm free as a bird, finally free!" She stood up and then shouted at the cieling "You hear me?! I'm free!" Her declaration earned her several uncomfortable looks.
"Please don't draw attention to us." The young soldier begged her, trying to hide his face.
"That was so cool, though!" Monica interrupted. "I didn't know you could turn into a wolf! That's awesome! Are you a Faunus or something? Are we closer than I thought?"
"No, no, full human here." Sylvia admitted, finally deciding to bite off a chunk of her sandwich. It tasted better than ever, and she had a feeling her victory was responsible for it. Winning feels good.
"Is that part of your Semblance, then?" Ash asked.
"Yep! I can go full feral at the snap of my fingers!"
"That's..." Dusk began. The berserker wondered if he was going to join in on the praising. "Unusual."
"Hah?"
"I've heard of a power like that, long associated with an ancient family in Mistral." Oh, crud. The cats outta the bag. Sylvia began to sweat bullets as Dusk put two and two together. "What was their family name again-"
"Vermont?" She murmured, desperate to throw him off. "I've never been to Mistral, so there's no way I'm related to them. I mean, it's possible I have a Semblance like them, but not exactly the same. Besides, lots of people have similar Semblances. You can't tell me there's no two people in Remnant that have the exact same Semblance. Take a look at Professor Vidal."
"I suppose you're right." He admitted, shrugging it off and eat his meal. "Anyway, the Vermont family only births males, if my memory is correct."
"There, see? It can't be the same!"
Please just stop. You're giving yourself away far too much. Sylvia froze, her smile forced and awkward, as her eyes trailed to Seraphina glaring at her.
Sorry, I really am. Don't tell Sorrell or anything, 'kay? The psychic continued to frown and look away. Sylvia caught her foul mood and scowled. What's her problem?
