XXIII: The Takeover
Sitting on the ground, Qrow Branwen looked far out into the grassland, waiting for any sign of life to cross his view. It would have been a peaceful activity if it were not for his companion. Roscoe paced the ground with a misdirected anxiety. He reasoned that she must not have ever been out on a stakeout before.
The deputy had parked her perilous wheeled vehicle under a skinny oak. With any luck, the tree would topple over and crush the horrible metal machine. Walking was better than having to deal with that monstrosity.
The plain that they stood watch over was empty except for a lone water pump. According to his twitchy associate, an aquifer lay underground in a shallow. With the sea so close, it was one of the few sources of freshwater for a long time in any direction. Their target would show up eventually. They just had to wait.
"When do you want to talk to your niece?" She asked suddenly.
Qrow had been waiting for her to ask that. He had expected the question ever since they had left Tocsin. She had obviously been keeping it in for a while. He could feel her tensing in his arms on the ride over. She must have been thinking of a tactful way of requesting an answer, but there was no easy way of saying it.
Yang was potentially a person of interest in a murder investigation. Not a suspect, he needed to remind himself. Not yet. Just someone who might know more about what happened than the average witness. That made him want to change the conversation.
"Can we not, right now?" He exhaled.
"You realize that there are now two people that have mentioned Cobalt being connected to Yang, right?" Roscoe pointed out.
"Connection is a strong word. Sounds more like a one-way infatuation to me." Qrow had tried to impress a fellow schoolmate by bettering himself once. All that accomplished was getting him laughed at during a formal dance. "Trust me. She would have nothing to do with what happened."
The thought of Yang's involvement in Cobalt's death made an ugly feeling bubble under his skin. A dark notion had crossed his mind a few times. She was around the age that he and his sister had been when they had taken their first life. The man had not been an innocent, but would that really have stopped them?
Did being a killer run in the blood? He struggled with that concern. There were times lately when he helped train his eldest niece that he saw the common personality traits of his family in her. Greed, brashness, and anger were all there in those lavender eyes.
He chose to overlook those thoughts most of the time. They went against his beliefs in the individual. Nurture over nature, forever. Did that make him an optimist, or did it just set him up to be blindsided by the truth? Birds of a feather, and all that junk.
"It still might be a lead worth pursuing."
"Maybe." The huntsman conceded. Anything less would be a lie. "I'd rather not stress her out needlessly. Let's wait until after we have spent our other leads."
"What other leads?" The deputy asked in frustration. She knew when she was being stonewalled. "We are at a dead end, unless I am missing a crucial clue you have uncovered."
He could understand why she thought that. While they had gotten interesting information from Schaffer, such as finding out that Cobalt lied about a school holiday, they did not have much to go on. However, there was one piece of information she was overlooking.
"Think." Qrow tapped his noggin. "There was one important point we learned from our little interview. I asked about it last."
"What are you-" She paused. The pieces clicked in her mind. "Are you talking about Cobalt's missing tonfas?"
"Yup. The fact that we have not found them is curious, don't you think? We even talked about it when we first met." At the time, he used the weapon's absence as proof that Grimm may not have been involved in the kid's death. Now it could be evidence of more. "They were not on the beach, in his room, or at Signal. Either he dropped them somewhere random or..."
"Or the killer has them." She finished his thought.
"Exactly. Even if he did forget them, their location will at least give us an idea of where he went after the last time he was seen."
"Wait." Shaking her head, she had thought of a contradiction. "We don't, actually, know that they are not at Signal. We did not ask about that when we were there."
"Glynda would have mentioned it." He filled that hole in his theory. "You can call her and ask to be thorough. I can guarantee they are not there."
"Let's say I buy that." She did not look persuaded as she came to sit down next to him. "How is that helpful? Now we are looking for a killer and a pair of sticks?"
"Because it gives us something solid to ask around about. Those weapons sounded distinctive. Tonfas with a disabled machine gun mech-shift functionality? Blades that pop out of the tips? How common can that be in these parts?"
"Good point."
"Thanks. I like to think I have them every now and then."
She stuck her tongue out at that comment. He laughed unreasonably hard at the childish display. Spending time with the deputy was more laid back than he thought it would be. When they first met, he assumed she would be a stick in the mud the entire time. Although they butted heads occasionally, he could say he was enjoying this break from his usual activities.
How long can it last?
The sour intrusion caused him to grimace. He could not argue with it. There always came a time where his relationships with other people became strained. It was usually his mood that did him in, but other times it was the circumstances. History told him the good times would end. They always did.
"Hey. You see that?" Roscoe interrupted his malaise.
She leaned next to him to point out what she saw. Across the way, they observed a figure on foot carrying what appeared to be two jugs in the direction of the pump. They could not make out much because of the distance, but whoever it was had a tail. That meant it was not who they were looking for.
The two spectators settled down until an unexpected event unfolded before them. The faunus had made it halfway to the well before there was a sudden movement. Another figure jumped out of the bushes. This one had something black in his hands that he was waving about. Qrow guessed it was a hunting rifle.
The tailed individual panicked, dropped the jugs, and ran in the opposite direction. The other, a human male, looked ready to pursue. Roscoe made to stand, but Qrow stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Let it play out." He shook his head, hoping it was the right decision.
She looked upset at the suggestion but gave in. They needed more evidence. Luckily, the ambusher did not chase after the fleeing faunus. If he had, the huntsman was not sure if he could have held back the deputy. Instead, the human bent down to pick up the spoils and began walking away.
"I think we found our guy." Qrow stated the obvious. "Do you want me to go down there and grab him?"
"No. He probably knows the area better than we do. If you try and apprehend him in the woods, he might slip away."
"Sure." He nodded. Although he was confident in his Grimm tracking abilities in the wild, he could not discount that possibility when it came to tracing people. They could be trickier. "What do you want to do?"
Roscoe tugged at her hat's brim as she deliberated. In the meantime, the man was slowly getting away. She needed to come to a decision, and quickly. Just when Qrow was about to prod her on it, she made her plan known.
"He has to live nearby. Why else would he keep chasing people off? Let's try and follow him. Once we know where his residence is, it will be harder for him to shake us."
"We will need to stay pretty far back on your motorcycle, so he doesn't hear us."
"That won't be a problem. We should be able to keep eyes on him from far away." They both stood to brush themselves off. "Shall we?"
The two rushed over to the bike. Getting on, he did not hesitate to take his spot behind her and grab onto her waist. The machine came to life and slowly crept forward. She let the incline determine their speed as they pursued their fugitive.
As they followed along, Qrow got a better look at the man. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself. The confidence in the way this 'Aard' maneuvered, without a care for anything around them, was telling to the huntsman. What that was, Qrow could not place.
〇-〇-〇
Glynda Goodwitch had spent the entire day up to her nose in paperwork.
Vale was in the process of changing up their curriculum requirements for the next school year. This was good. The updates made sure that what was currently being taught was in line with the latest information from the four kingdoms. It helped ensure students would continue to succeed in the future. It also created a whole host of logistical problems.
The principle of Signal had to review the new requirements side by side with the current teaching schemes to see where they did not sync. A new lesson plan would have to be drafted and taught to the teachers to make sure they knew what was expected. She also had to make sure that the current textbooks were relevant and make plans to replace them when not.
From what she had found so far, it looked like they were close to being current. Some science texts in the lower grades would need to be replaced and the cafeteria menus would need to be tweaked. A few workshops would also need to be created to share out the new educational standards with the teachers. But, overall, there would not be too much work ahead.
The greatest problem was that Beacon was now recommending that close quarters combat training be made a separate elective for students. When Beacon recommended a course of action, the prep schools listened. While she saw the wisdom in teaching students the importance of not relying on a weapon, this new requirement posed a few challenges. One obstacle was that they did not have any experts in unarmed fighting on the payroll.
The hunters they had on hand were more skilled in weapon-based combat. She herself was a long-range fighter who used the environment to her advantage. Getting closer to the action was against her approach to Grimm slaying. While they could get by teaching a class without an authority in the art, it would not be as effective. A true professional would have picked up tips and tricks in their lifetime that others who specialized in other types of fighting would not.
Glynda knew she was going to have to make some calls to find a proper teacher. They had to be knowledgeable and have free time. That limited the potential pool of candidates to retired or injured hunters. After thinking about it for long periods of time, she was drawing a blank. Perhaps the headmaster of Beacon would have a good suggestion. He seemed to have good instincts for talent.
A buzzing underneath the papers she was contemplating caught her attention.
Lifting a stack of attendance forms and looking underneath, she found that someone was calling her scroll. It was an unknown number. Usually she was against answering it while working. Conversations were a distraction that she did not need getting in the way of completing her work. In her state of frustration, however, she broke her rule. She could go for an interruption.
Answering the device, the video displayed a pale man with blonde hair. He was shrouded in a darkness that drew her to notice the black bags under his blue eyes. It took a minute before she recognized the stranger. She hardly believed who it was.
"Tai-Yang." She greeted him.
"It's been a while." He smiled. The years since she had last seen him had not been kind.
"It is good to hear from you." They had not talked since his teammate had passed away. The principle could understand. She had lost her partner a few years ago and the pain was still unbearable at times. "Is this a social call, or is there something I can help you with?"
"Well, I have a bit of a situation." He started, scratching the back of his head. "My daughter came home in a funk this afternoon. I spoke with her a while ago but there were parts of what she told me that did not make sense. Was there a recent death at Signal?"
"Yes. A boy in her class perished in a Grimm attack. We are still trying to work out how it happened." She knew the announcement was going to affect some students more than others. It looked like Tai's daughter was one of those tender souls. "We have counselors who specialize in childhood trauma available if you would like me to send you a pamphlet."
"Ah. I might take you up on that offer, but right now there is another matter." He looked off at something out of her view to gather courage. "I think I might know something about what happened to the youngster. Is there someone I should speak to, like the security office for the school?"
"In that case, I would refer you to the Relay Sheriff's department. The death occurred off campus and they are leading the investigation."
While Glynda was interested in whatever information Tai had, she did not want to obstruct the ongoing investigation. Processes needed to be respected to preserve their integrity. Waiting a few days would not be terrible. She was sure she would learn what he knew later if it proved to be important.
"I, uh, is there someone specific? To talk to I mean." He stumbled out.
"The one handling the investigation is a deputy named Roscoe." She suddenly recalled an important detail. "Actually, you can ask Qrow. He is consulting with them. We had a meeting about it this morning."
"Oh yeah. I have met her. Cyan, right?" She nodded. "Small world. I had no idea that was what they were up to. They were rather tight lipped about what they were doing. I guess it makes sense why she came through here the other night."
"Good. Now if there is not anything else…" She trailed off. She really needed to get back to work.
"Yeah. One thing. Do you happen to have a way of contacting them?" He chuckled. "I think Qrow must have lost his scroll. I tried calling him first, but he did not answer."
"Unfortunately, I do not." They had given them Mr. Ling's scroll number, but Deputy Roscoe did not share hers. "You can try contacting the Sheriff's Office tomorrow using the directory. I am sure they could put you in touch with her."
"Actually, I think I will go there myself. This seems like the type of conversation that needs to be done in person." He went back to scratching his scalp. He was going to make it bleed at the rate he was going. "Would you mind if I had my girls stay with me tomorrow? They will want to talk to Yang, and I am uneasy about sending my youngest to school by herself."
"That will not be a problem. It might do them good to have a day off." While Signal's chief administrator believed that school attendance was important for student achievement, the welfare of her pupils needed to come first. An occasional day away could be beneficial. "I can let their teachers know so that it is not counted against them."
"Thanks Glyn. You are a lifesaver."
"Think nothing of it." A small smile graced her lips. "Do call again sometime Tai."
"I will try. Goodbye." The screen went blank.
Setting the communicator down, Glynda Goodwitch dived back into work. There was still more to do before she could rest. Now that the interruption was over, she got back to thinking about the search for her new hand-to-hand trainer. She was still lost on what to do. A proper solicitation campaign would take a lot of time and energy to organize.
Proper candidates do not just call from out of nowhere…
It was then that Glynda realized her error. She slapped her face with her hand and kept it there to hide her shame. The proper candidate did just call her. Tai-Yang Xiao Long was both an expert in CQC and retired. He also already lived on the island, so he would not need to relocate for the job. It was a perfect match. Why she had not asked before he hung up, she did not know.
"I must be more tired than I thought." She mumbled through her fingers.
She still had some time before she needed to finalize her budget. The principle would wait a couple of days before contacting Tai again. It sounded like he had his hands full trying to solve whatever was going on with his children. In the meantime, she figured it was time to call it for the evening.
The sun was beginning to set.
〇-〇-〇
After a few hours, the trailing twosome came to a stop.
Far ahead of them was the one they were following. They had managed to keep back far enough to avoid the target's notice using a combination of clutched braking and determination. There were a few times they lost sight when he went behind a few trees, but they stayed the course. Their assumption he would continue to walk in a straight line was proven correct. He never noticed as they coasted up next to a foothill that partially obscured them from view.
The man they presumed to be Aard let himself into a small, brown hovel. Judging by the stumps that littered the landscape, it had been hastily constructed using the surrounding trees. The maker of the abode was not an artisan by any stretch of the imagination. They could see a few rusted nails sticking out of the panels.
"Alright. I'm going up there." Cyan stepped away from the motorcycle. "I'll be back in a bit."
"You don't want me to come with you?" Qrow asked.
The deputy was not sure about the huntsman. They seemed to get along well enough. She could even say she admired some of his qualities. That being said, she did not trust him. Time after time, he had ignored her advice and gone outside of their agreements. At Signal, in Relay, and out in Tocsin, he had taken unnecessary risks.
She was not sure if he was doing it on purpose, or if that was just his personality, but it could not continue. Soon enough, they were going to have a conversation about that if the partnership was going to persist. Until then, she needed to handle sensitive circumstances by herself. This upcoming dialogue with Aard seemed like such a situation.
"Hang back. I'll let you know if there is an issue."
Qrow did not seem to mind the decision. He mumbled a 'fine' and leaned forward in the Dillo so that he was in the driver's seat. Draping his hands over the handlebars, he watched as she made her way down the de-forested path. She felt eyes on her as she stepped up to the front door. Because she was not sure if it was Qrow or someone else, it made her shiver.
A little sign that hung from a dull screw held an ominous message written in black ink. It made clear that trespassers will be shot; survivors will be shot again. With a little hesitation, she knocked on the entrance. A port in the door slid open to show a dirty face with beady little eyes.
"What?" The man asked with a sneer. His reddish hair came down in long bangs that ran past his eyebrows.
"Hello. I am looking for a man named Aard."
"You found him." He confirmed her suspicions.
"I am Deputy Cyan Roscoe of the Relay Sheriff's Department." She smiled at the scowler. "If you have a few moments, could you please-"
"Sod off." He interrupted.
"Excuse me?" She felt her temper rise as a natural response but stayed composed.
"You heard me. I am not interested in talking to any deputy friendly types." He grunted. "We are not in Relay, so why don't you make like a tree, and get outta here? You don't have any power in these parts."
He was correct. They were somewhere north of Tocsin and west of Relay. Wendeval had made rumblings of claiming this region under their settlement's jurisdiction, but he had not actually made the effort to draw their border around it. The Zone Three boundary had ended a way's back behind them.
Similarly, Tocsin gathered resources from the area—likely why the Sheriff was interested in the area at all—but did not have any homesteads nearby. The closest claimed land was a militia outpost a few clicks east. This land operated under general kingdom rules, which were only as good as the closest enforcer.
"Maybe. However, as the closest thing to a representative of Vale, I could compel your cooperation in serious matters."
"That right?" She saw his body slowly shift to the left.
"Could." She stressed. "Right now, I would like to have a chat."
Aard seemed to think about her words. Most likely, he was considering how much trouble it was worth blowing off a deputy versus talking. He had to realize that she would just come back later, with more people, if he did not try and work with her now. At last, he stepped back and closed the port window.
Cyan thought that he might have chosen to ignore her until she heard the door unlock and watched as it swung open. Up close, the man in the doorway was different than she would have assumed. Aard was about her height, with a thick torso and bulging forearms. With the amount of brown leather he was wearing, she could imagine he was a metal worker by trade.
"I'm listening." He said as he crossed his arms.
"We have been getting reports of an individual threatening people around here who are trying to access the water pumps." She started. He remained stone faced. "Just a little while ago, I watched as you frightened off someone and confiscated their supplies."
"And...?"
"Those pumps were installed for public use."
"They might have been, but not anymore. Now they belong to me."
"Under whose authority?"
"Mine! Property only belongs to those that are strong enough to keep it. Those who want to use it have to best me for the privilege." He grinned. "Or they could pay me."
That was an unlikely demand to be met. The people who lived around here did not have lien. They might be able to barter for access, but why should they? Tocsin had installed the pumps so that its citizens would not have to pay for such necessities. That was the whole point of the commune. If that social contract was broken, then there was no reason for the settlement to exist.
"I should let you know that is not going to happen. You will be forced to return access to the pump."
"Oh?" He leaned in threateningly. "Are you going to make me?"
"No. That is not in my purview." He laughed in her face. "I came more as a courtesy. I am not sure if you are aware, but there is an organization in the area that enforces the norms around here."
"Let me guess. It is this Sheriff's Office you represent." He looked the deputy up and down before spitting on the floor. "I'm not impressed."
"No. Not us. As you pointed out, you are outside Relay's reach. Rather, it is a roaming militia that defends the local homesteads from Grimm."
"Big deal. I can kill Grimm too. I was practically raised to fight 'em."
"Okay." Aard looked like he could handle a few Grimm. He might have had his Aura unlocked. "However, I would point out that there are many of them, and only one of you."
"Numbers mean nothing to the truly strong."
"They do not lack for quality in their quantity." She countered. "If you do not want a band of well-armed and trained fighters messing up your… house, I suggest you try to play nice."
"Is that a threat?"
"No, it is a warning. I am impartial in this conflict. The only reason I came out here is because I am a friend of the militia and wanted to defuse this before it got out of hand."
"A friend, eh? Are you somebody they might miss?" The man's eyes gleamed.
Cyan knew she had stepped into dangerous territory now. As casually as possible, she moved her right hand from her hip to her waist. She wanted it close enough to draw her revolver if she needed to. Aard seemed to notice. His smile became feral.
"Maybe." She could not lie. He would have seen right through it. "But is it really worth the trouble for a well that is not in danger of running out any time soon?"
He wavered. This disagreement was all over a non-limited resource. There was no reason to be greedy. Not when Aard had spent so much time carving out a living space in the middle of nowhere. He looked like he did not want to lose that for his ideals on power. The man opened his mouth to speak before his eyes drifted up to look behind her.
"Hey Roscoe." Qrow was walking up on them. "Everything going okay?"
"You!" Aard shrilled as the color drained from his face.
"I thought that name sounded familiar." Qrow snapped his fingers and pointed at the terrified man. "How's it going Aardy?"
The bulky man jumped back and closed the door behind him. The locks clicked shut along with a mad scramble behind the entrance. Cyan watched it all happen in supreme confusion. The huntsman rolled up to the closed entryway.
"That was rude." The huntsman raised his voice so it could be heard over the panicked shuffling inside. "I thought we were having a nice conversation."
"What was that about!?" She hissed.
"I know his family. They-" There was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and ready to fire. "Give me one second."
Before the deputy could respond, Qrow acted. With a two-step punt, the heavy door broke from its hinges and flew inwards. There was a grunt of pain as it struck someone. The red eyed man stepped inside the abode as Cyan wondered what was happening.
"Qrow!" She reprimanded as she followed him into the foyer.
"I said, one sec." He casually strolled up to the toppled door. The only visible part of Aard was his arm. It tried to regain control of a shotgun that was only fingertips away. Qrow placed his boot on the weapon, ending the rebellion. "Ready to talk?"
A few derogatory words were muffled by the wood. Qrow growled. He took his foot off the scattergun and stomped down on the inclined lumber. There was a yelp and a crunching noise. He then lifted the slab from atop the victim to reveal a dazed and bloodied man underneath. He must not have been able to deploy his Aura in time.
"Roscoe, let me formally introduce you to Aard Hýaina. A true reprobate among a whole brood of them."
"You're one to talk, Branwen." Aard hissed while clutching his nose. He lay on the ground looking up at them, not bothering to get to his feet. Qrow would most likely just put him down again if he tried.
"Where are the rest of them Aardy?" He asked, not bothering to dispute what was said. Instead, he placed his sole on the other man's chest as it rose and fell. "Where there is one Hýaina, there are usually five more of ya waiting to strike."
"It's just me!" He cried. "Honest!"
"Honest? You?" Qrow chuckled. "That would be a first. What happened, bud? Did the tribe kick you out?"
"N-no. I left on my own. Things were getting too tense around there."
"Why? Is there some dispute over which defenseless village to attack next?"
Cyan felt uncomfortable watching the huntsman work. He was normally playful and smug, but there was an inordinate viciousness about how he was handling the other man. Qrow looked ready to kill. Aard seemed to understand his position quite well.
"Wiza is sick. Everyone knows it and are jockeying to succeed her as the new leader." He struggled feebly under the pressure placed on his torso. "They are forcing people to choose sides. I wanted away from all of that."
"Really? So, the old bird is finally losing her grip on power?" Qrow asked with a keen interest while removing his limb. Aard nodded. "Who do you think is going to win out?"
"I-I don't know. That is why I left." He gasped as he sat up. Scooting over, he propped himself with the wall.
"Figures." Qrow groaned. "The question is, what do I do with you? You want to start a new life?"
"Yes." Aard pleaded.
"And yet, you are still doing the kinds of things you did back in the tribe." Aard looked away from Qrow. "That makes me think you are not serious."
"I am! I am!"
"See that you are." Qrow nodded before turning away. "If I find out you are causing more trouble, we will skip the chit-chat and go straight to the beat down."
Aard nodded vigorously even though Qrow was not looking at him anymore. Cyan took one last look at the damaged man before following the huntsman outside. The arrogance that Aard had displayed earlier was gone. His once proud features were now drawn down and begging for mercy. Whatever hold Qrow had on the man was crushing and total. The change in demeanor was chilling.
Following Qrow outside, she called for him to wait up. Instead, he moved along to the Dillo, obviously ready to be finished with their task. She was not. They needed to talk. She ran up to stand before him. Only when she blocked his path did he give her the time of day.
"What?"
"You know what."
"I know I said I would stay back, but-"
"But nothing! I had it handled. I was getting through to him, then you came marching up with whatever that was." Her hands were shaking now. "You can't treat people like that!"
"That," He pointed back to the Hýaina residence. "Was not people. That was scum."
"And that makes it okay to invade his home?"
"You don't know them like I do." He shook his head. "The only thing they understand is force."
"That doesn't sound too different from what he was doing. Only the strong can lead, right?" She poked his chest for emphasis. "Only the strong can decide who gets water. Only the strong can force others to live differently. Is there anything else I missed, Qrow? Any other bits of wisdom from the Branwen Tribe that you want to impart on me?"
Cyan felt haggard. All the frustrations that had been growing were vented. Qrow looked at her with wide eyes, having not expected it. His hands had started to shake as well. After a tense moment of silence between the two, he frowned.
"I need a freakin' drink." He said quietly.
Qrow turned heel and walked off towards the woods. Cyan watched him, not understanding where he was going. They were out in the middle of nowhere. She did not think he would just take off like that. It took her a few moments to remember that he was a huntsman. He was used to the wilderness.
"Wait!" She cried out.
Running after him, she expected to find Qrow in the brush. He had been slowly moving away. However, when she got there, she found nothing but vegetation. Crickets chirping for nighttime was the only greeting she received. There was not even the sound of bustling that she would expect to hear from someone running.
The only thing she found was a black bird in a tree that cocked its head at her. It was a crow, but not hers. The small creature squawked before taking flight. If Cyan did not know any better, she would have thought it was mocking her. She watched as it disappeared over the canopy.
That could have gone better.
Trudging back to the Dillo, she hopped on to the saddle and sighed. Sagging down, she thought back over what had happened. Qrow had crossed a line, and deserved to be called out, but she should have tried to be more diplomatic. Instead, she let the tension that had been growing between the two of them bubble over.
Pulling out her scroll, she switched it over to her tracking application. It was still tuned to the bracelet he was wearing. There was still a chance she could catch up with him. Even if he were running at full speed, she would still be able to catch up with him on a motorcycle. Her jaw dropped when she saw the tracker's location.
It showed that he was traveling at a steady speed away from her. It was as if terrain was no longer an issue for him. He was about a third of the way back to Relay. It had taken them hours to travel the same distance, and that was with the aid of a machine. He was somehow doing this while on foot.
How he had accomplished this, she had no idea. At first, she thought it was a glitch. Then she realized that was not correct. The technology was state of the art. They had tested it thoroughly. It was accurate. There had been a note in the SWORD dossier about him being able to cover large distances in a short amount of time, but this was absurd.
Cyan shook her head. It did not matter how he was doing it, only that he was. There was no way she could catch him until he stopped. Doing otherwise would be a waste of fuel. Luckily, he was heading back to where they came from. She would need to bide her time and wait for an opportunity to corner him.
Sighing again, she turned on the Dillo. It was getting dark and unsafe to be outside. She switched on the radio to call up Maggie and let her know what had happened. The senior deputy was going to be out late tonight. Just as she was about to connect to her friend's shortwave, the radio receiver started to go crazy.
An odd combination of metallic screeches, a record scratch, and a siren were pumped out of the speakers. The grating hurt her ears. She reached out to turn it down when it finally ceased. Thinking that the sound system had broken, she was prepared to turn it off when a familiar voice rang out over the airwaves.
"Greetings brothers, sisters, and everything outside and in-between." Began DJ Yell3r. "Welcome to Radio Free Relay."
Cyan was perplexed. Had she accidentally changed over from the main frequency for the Sheriff's Office? She double checked her input and found that it was correct. This was their frequency. DJ Yell3r was on their secure radio transmission.
"How did he…?" She wondered.
"No, you are not mistaken." He declared, as if answering her question directly. "I am pushing out this message to all the fuzz radios in Relay."
Cyan turned the dial to check his claim. It appeared he was telling the truth. Every frequency was pushing out the man's declaration. That meant everyone tuned into the department's station was hearing it.
"I have been disgusted by the recent actions of Relay, specifically it's law enforcement, towards our friends in Tocsin. Sheriff Swindler has gone too far this time."
The deputy sweated. Yell3r was now in complete control of the air traffic, which was a significant portion of their communication's array. Standard scroll service from the CCT in Vale was expensive. Shortwave radio was the main channel for how volunteers and deputies coordinated with each other.
"Consider this a message of intent. A declaration of war. My public service announcement… with guitars!" Loud rock music began to stream out to accompany his voice.
Her scroll began to vibrate. Looking down, she found that her inbox was blowing up with notifications. Flipping through the first couple of messages, they consisted of people from all over asking what was happening. Many wanted to know what to do or if this was some practical joke.
"From sunrise to sunset I am taking over." He let out a laugh that auto tuned to oscillate from low to high and back again. "And it won't end until something changes. You better get used to it."
As this was happening, Cyan could only think of one thing. It was a notion of certainty. Wendeval was going to be pissed.
"Welp." She summed up. "Sh-"
Chapter Next: Turn Off the Lights (9/25/20)