XXXIV: I Can See Clearly Now
The top of the clocktower was windy that afternoon.
Gentle breezes below did not ready visitors for the howling wind. Gales violently pushed and pulled past the red brick that made up the spire. The bell above the lookout space shook and resonated with the gusts. Nature itself warned trespassers against free movement and action.
Delia was not easily deterred from going wherever she wanted. The implied danger added to the thrill. Air running through her scarlet hair soothed and bolstered her spirit. She leaned into the crosswinds while stretching her neck out over the railing. Time moved slowly as she admired the view.
The sight was well worth sneaking in. Then again, not much sneaking was required. All that she needed to do was ignore a sign next to the door that led up. The 'Maintenance Staff' notice was more of a suggestion.
Immediately beneath her was an oblong building that the tower was attached to. She considered hopping the rail to find another place to prepare. There was more room on that roof to set up, but there were also many additional obstacles to a clean perspective. Where she was now was superior in height and less cluttered
Unclipping Black Reunion from her belt, she switched to its long-range form and brought it to her gaze. Balanced on the thin metal cylinder, she swiveled over the town. The entirety of Relay was before her as she stood at its very center. It was a perfect spot for seeing all.
Shops, roads, and houses stretched out from the tower's base. And yet, there were no people. While useful in that no one could see her plotting, it also did not give her a chance to practice leading targets. Instead, she had to focus on the fixtures to calibrate.
The kill zone was evident and the main attraction. A plaza further down provided needed space with little in the way of obstructions to block her aim. The sole defensible position was a fountain at its core. That would not be a problem if she hit hard and fast.
The sniper's nest was suitable for her purposes. She knew it would be as soon as she had seen it from the ground. The validation of her experience felt good.
Satisfied, she now began to scan the faraway lands and let her mind amble. The urban area gave way to forest and stone. It highlighted how small the settlement was in comparison to the rest of the world. Remnant was so much bigger than any small bubble of concrete and tar.
Raising her scope to the coastline showed one such example. Blue and green water glimmered as an endless sea called for adventure. If she were to turn around, she would see a dark outline on the horizon. Vale, with its bright lights and crowds, felt so far away. Footpaths leading to the other kingdoms were easily identifiable.
It was all so beautiful. If able, she would devote her life to exploration. To travel for its own sake. To see everything that could be seen. Not merely zip to population centers dealing cruelties but getting to know her surroundings.
Unfortunately, life did not give second chances to people like her.
Ascending steps alerted her that the help had arrived. She considered shifting her gun back to compact mode but decided against it. Letting them know that she was well equipped could help demonstrate her ability to follow through. It could also induce cooperation, for however long she needed it.
The paces drew closer until two people appeared in the archway. One was the woman Delia was expecting. The other was one who she had seen try and trap Qrow earlier in the day. The man misbranded as 'Tiny'. The trio drifted towards each other until they met under the bell.
"Wow. And I thought we were bringing the big guns." Kahlua chuckled.
The woman with the shaved head held up a distinctive handgun. If Delia's memory served her right, the pistol was a decommissioned Atlas military sidearm. That specific weapon type had fallen out of favor with the top brass but was still highly regulated. How she had gotten one was suspect.
"Hello once more, Lua. I was afraid you were going to leave me up here all alone."
"I'd never do that to you." The other woman shook in her clean charcoal suit.
Whether she quivered at the breathy new nickname or the implied threat was beside the point. Kahlua should already know not to mess with the assassin, but it did not hurt to remind her. The man beside them looked Delia up and down. After a few passes he nodded and spoke.
"You have a job for me."
"I do. Are you down to help kill a man?" The guy showed no shock at the request.
"Does it pay?"
Money. A straightforward motivation. The contract killer could respect that.
"Plenty."
"Who's marked?"
"One you've already tangled with. Qrow Branwen."
His eyes turned to slits. "I'm in."
She nodded and brought them both over to the tower's edge. Tiny and herself stood at the precipice. Kahlua was a short distance behind, unwilling to come any closer. Either a fear of heights or a fear of being pushed through the threshold prevented her from going any further.
"The plan is simple." She pointed to the plaza with her weapon. "We lure Qrow down there. Then I pick him off from afar. If he is not expecting it, he will go down easily enough."
She had repeated the same trick throughout her career. It had never failed. From paupers to kings, a well-placed bullet could end anyone's life. Huntsmen were not immune. They were as mortal as the next person.
After some slow blinks, the man hummed. "If it's that simple, what do you need us for?"
"I need you to find him. You did it before so I trust you can do it again."
There was more to it, of course. She did not have the time to find Qrow, memorize his activities, and stage the attack. While she might have been able to blitz him, there was a higher likelihood of a problem occurring. Bringing him to a location to do the deed let her control the rules of engagement and decreased the chance of things going wrong.
And if Kahlua and Tiny failed again, there would be no skin off her nose. Qrow would think the two were acting alone to try and finish what they had started. He would not let them walk away again, providing more opportunities. Using them could get her up to two shots.
"Well I have good news for you. I already found him."
The assassin turned to the woman who had spoken up. Kahlua's confidence had returned in a big way. The smile she sported dipped into smug territory.
"You did?"
"Yeah. Turns out he is staying at a hotel at the edge of town. I followed him back. Got his room number and everything."
What an unexpected boon. Delia was sure they would waste most of their time trying to find him before they could figure out how to get him into position for a coup de grâce. She was impressed that Kahlua had taken the initiative.
"Not just that." She continued while showing some teeth. "Looks like he brought his family to Relay. Him and his husband were getting all comfy when I last saw them."
Delia's brain fizzled and died. "His what?"
"He has a husband." She repeated. "A daughter too, by the looks of it. Cute little thing looks just like her daddy."
"Isn't he with that deputy?" Tiny showed a surprising amount of interest. "They were hanging all over each other when we were tailing them."
"Maybe they are all in one of those new age Mistralian relationships."
"Is there a reason we are spending time on our target's love life?" Delia complained.
Despite her objections, the assassin was a little curious. There had been rumors back at Beacon about Team STRQ. Mostly around the first three letters. The Q of the team had similarly been an enigma but his flirting with older students always kept him out of the more salacious stories. Maybe that had been an act.
"I think it is our ticket to getting him right where we want him."
"How?"
"We need bait." The thief simpered. "What better motivation is there than a kidnapped kid? We only need to separate them and-"
"Absolutely not!"
Kahlua flinched at Delia's outburst. The man of the group was also astonished. They both eyed the hitwoman curiously. The words had a finality to them that they had not been expecting before the idea was fleshed out.
"Why not?" Kahlua asked in anger.
Delia stared the Branwen look-alike down. She finally had the good sense to be cowed under the glare. The sniper sighed as she thought through her words. She needed to give a good explanation for why they should not kidnap children. Besides the moral reason.
"Because it adds a variable to the equation. The more people we add, the more likely something will go wrong. What if he calls for backup from his deputy friend? Is his supposed husband also a huntsman? No. We will keep it to the minimum number of people involved. Us and Branwen."
"Then how do we get him there?"
"You are correct that we will need bait." Delia could not refrain from letting her lips turn up as she eyed the other woman. "And I think we already have a scrumptious worm ready for the lure."
That killed Kahlua's fire. All the false bravado from before evaporated as the words sunk in. She took a few more moves away from them. Hands clamped to the sides of her head in horror.
"No way! He'll kill me for sure if he sees my face!"
"Make sure he doesn't." Delia replied flippantly. "Leave him a note or whatever. I don't care how you do it. Find a way to get him down there alone."
"Because that's so easy! Guh. Fine. Anything else?"
"Yes. We do this tonight." Kahlua prepared to speak up before Delia cut her off with a roar. "Tonight! No more talk. Go out there and get it done."
The suited lady's face contorted between anger and fear. Anger at being talked down to and fear of the one doing it. She huffed and walked away. Tiny stood silent for a while gazing out at the skyline before also leaving.
Delia had a feeling she would need to eliminate Kahlua at the end of this job. She seemed untrustworthy. As for Tiny, the assassin could not get a good read on him. He appeared rather simple but also contemplative. That could go either way in terms of deciding between paying him with lien or lead.
Lifting the rifle again, she cleared her mind. A determination on their fates could wait for later. Training the gun back on the plaza, she found a target. One of the statues found its head in her crosshairs. She imagined that instead of the cream-colored marble, it was a black-haired man of flesh and blood.
"Sorry Qrow." She acted out pulling the trigger.
The knot in her stomach throbbed.
〇-〇-〇
"Dust in the hole!"
The warning caused the men within the enclosed space to scurry out of the tunnel. The one operating the boring machine leapt from the controls to the ground. He let out a cry after landing awkwardly on his feet. One of his fellow miners ran back to help by placing him in a fireman's carry and running for dear life.
They made it out in the nick of time. A bolt of electricity zagged by as they cleared the cave's mouth. The resulting thunderclap caused them to lose their footing and tumble to the ground. Griff watched them pant with disinterest.
"Okay lads. Coffee break is over. Back on your heads."
Those within earshot groaned and complained. They hushed up when he looked in their direction. No one would say anything to his face. That would have been bad for their health. Experience was a wonderful teacher.
If those at the mining site were to describe the manager, the one word they would use was 'aggressive.' It was a term Griff encouraged. He expected those that worked under him to give one hundred and ten percent with each new day. Or else.
"No way. I ain't going back in there." The one with the injured foot, Soledad, said as he struggled to rise back up. "I'd rather die in the sun than in some damnable pit."
Too preoccupied with his pain, he did not see Griff lumber up and loom over him. Soledad had managed to make it to his knees before noticing the larger shadow engulf his own. His rescuer had abandoned him as soon as he opened his mouth.
"Think so?" Griff spoke down to him.
"Yeah!" He glared up in defiance. "That is the third time we hit a lightning vein this week. I am not going back in there until we have a better idea of what we are drilling into."
To be truthful, Griff did not want to be there either. After the night he had, he wanted to crawl into bed with a bottle of booze and try to forget everything. But he had a job to do. And so did the machine operator.
More lessons were needed.
There was quite a bit of catharsis to be had as Griff pushed the driver down. Soledad twisted to stop himself from hitting the dirt. This left him unprepared for when an iron claw wrapped around the scruff of his neck and hauled him up. He squirmed pitifully as the hold pressed further into his skin.
"Then I guess you don't want to get paid."
"I'm not getting paid for this anyways." He grunted.
Many others in the crowd agreed with the complainer. This time, they did not bother to hide their disdain. Maybe they thought Griff was weaker after that red eyed man had knocked a few teeth loose. The bandages on his face and arms could give false impressions. He squeezed harder to dispel them.
The wheeze from Soledad experiencing his neck muscles buckle under Griff's hands was music to his ears. It did not, however, quiet the onlookers. Instead they got rowdier. A few brave ones made motions to intervene. Foolish notions he would need to knock out of them before the day was through.
"That's enough, Griffith."
The no nonsense declaration from behind made him let go. The Sheriff of Relay commanded, and Griff was obligated to heed. As the infirmed fell again and crawled away, the manager turned to his boss.
"Welcome back... sir."
"Thank you." Wendeval acknowledged before addressing the crowd. "I take it there is some tension with how things are being run around here."
They let him know their grievances in a torrent of sound. Many echoed the lack of hazard pay and how they were being treated little better than faunus. He stood there and took it with a raised chin. Once they talked themselves out, he let them know his thoughts.
"You are all receiving plenty of compensation. Out of the goodness of my heart, I am forgiving many large debts for a few months of honest work." There were shameful looks away from the lawman. "But, if that is not enough, then how about this? Drinks are on me at the Stingray. Let the owner know that you drink on my tab."
That seemed to calm many of the grousers. Not all, but enough to get them to disperse and to head back to the tunnel. Alcohol was a currency that could buy the most stubborn of mules. Even Soledad had a smile as he limped his way back to the borer.
"You did not need to do that. I had them all in hand."
"Clearly." The mustachioed man snorted. "Which was why we were about to have a reenactment of the fall of the last general of Mantle."
The former ranch hand did not fully understand the reference but took it as an insult. He glowered. Wendeval met the ill intent with more indifference, comfortable in his position. If Griff had been in any less controllable state, he would have shown the sheriff how dangerous complacency could be.
"What I would give for partners in this crusade who understood public relations." Wendeval wearied before looking over Griff and taking in the gauze that packed his face. "You look like you already lost a few rounds before I got here. Anything I should know?"
"Got into a scrape last night. Nothing special."
"If you gave as good as you got, then it might be special indeed. Please tell me I'm not going to get an arrest warrant with your name on it anytime soon."
"No one will complain."
It was a guarantee. The other person in the fight had won. Winners rarely reported on the defeated, especially when they remained uninjured. The volunteers that had temporarily detained Griff had not kept any notes and seemed more concerned with his drinking habits than his bruised body.
"That better be true." The head law enforcement officer frowned. "We have too much riding on this for any indiscretions on your part."
He began walking towards the main facility. The foreman followed, assuming they had more to discuss but did not want to do it out in the field. It was a short walk completed in silence. A grey dome buried into the side of an artificial cliff was their destination.
It was a relic of a time before Griff had been born. The old-timers often spoke of these structures. They were build-in-place processing plants that had been set up by the corporation who first settled the area. Raw Dust could be volatile when first extracted, so the original miners needed a way to keep refinement tools on hand and sheltered from the elements.
The structure also doubled as a defensible entrance to the mines in case of Grimm incursions. Rare as attacks might have been, they still happened. Thankfully, they did not have to worry about Grimm outside of the mines. Their current location was close enough to the faunus settlement they were unlikely to get any unexpected outside guests.
The real danger was on the inside.
A labyrinth of conveyor belts, storage tanks, and rusted machines filled the outer chamber. The backup lights flickered, causing a dim glow to bounce off the few pieces of unoxidized metal. Chief among them was a menacing guillotine that hung at the end of the belt lines. The blade was still sharp enough to cut rock.
Griff held his breath as they passed by what everyone called the Door to the Underworld. The barrier was all that separated the processing portion of the dome from the rest of the mine. It was a grey steel reinforced hatch that had been sealed by the militia years ago due to safety concerns. The reason was obvious to anyone who cared to press their ears to the metal. Unmistakable growls and slithers could be heard from within.
Monsters had found their way into the lower levels of the mine in the intervening years since the structure had been shuttered. Since the Grimm did not need food, water, or sunlight to sustain themselves, forever they would remain. Only fools would venture inside and expect to make it back without harm befalling them.
Wendeval led them into the back office. Opening the alcove released a bright yellow light and a techno beat. Griff had set up the lamps and a jukebox to help relieve the stress of his surroundings. He regretted his choice of leaving the radio on when the Sheriff gave him a disapproving frown.
"Care to explain why you are listening to an illegal station?"
Not wanting to say it was because he thought DJ Yell3r was funny, Griff lied. "I thought the criminal might accidentally give away who he was. He sure loves to talk."
The future mayor scoffed as he unplugged the speakers. He motioned for them to stand before the planning desk. On its top were the proposed supply routes they were busy establishing. Wendeval thumbed the current excavation site.
"How far along are we?"
Griff was taken aback by the question. Usually the two exchanged pleasantries before getting down to business. In fact, the other man would try to push him into taking out loans to remodel his home. The reminder of Radio Free Relay must have put him in a tizzy.
"We are on schedule with the entrance." He ignored the change. "It has been expanded to four times its original diameter."
"How about the tunnel?"
"That has been a little more difficult. We keep running into pockets of leftover Dust that occasionally go off and spook the workers. They are frightened of sudden collapses."
"All great things are built on sacrifice." Wendeval mused, unaware that it was easy to say that when he was not the one being sacrificed.
"I'll push them harder." The mining manager was happy he was not being sacrificed either.
"Excellent. We need this new stash point completed on time. Our exports will be increasing soon, and we will not be able to handle the new volume without it."
The Sheriff brought up blueprints and blasting caps as they discussed new dig strategies. The two would most likely spend the whole afternoon arguing, but Griff put would up with it. He had no intention of going back to his old life as a farm hand.
〇-〇-〇
When Maggie arrived at the medical office, she found a facility in motion.
A white Bullhead was actively running in an open field outside the building. The droning sounds from the aircraft indicated a pilot ready to depart at a moment's notice. Personnel in jackets with the Vale Central Hospital insignia were preparing a specialized ramp to receive a passenger.
One of them noticed the new uniformed arrival. He finished his portion of the work and jogged over to her. Meeting him midway, she was soon introducing herself to the emergency medical technician.
"Deputy Mae." The rumble of the engines nearly blared out her voice, forcing them to walk away from the improvised landing pad. "I received a report that a patient took a turn for the worst. I'm worried it was one of mine."
"What's their name?"
"Razz Barrett."
There was a dread in her heart when she had been notified of issues with a patient of Dr. Sképsis. Maggie knew the doctor did not have many individuals in his infirmary. The likelihood of Razz being in trouble was high.
"Then you were right to be worried." He practically screamed to be heard. "Your man received blood from an incompatible donor. We will be taking him back to VCH for further treatment."
That sounded serious. While she had basic first aid training in the military, it had never been particularly useful. Aura protected her and her comrades from events that would require more advanced knowledge. Anyone who was seriously hurt had access to trained field medics who could handle critical injuries. All she had to do was protect them as they worked.
"Will he be okay?"
"We need to get him into intensive care to make sure his kidneys aren't failing. He is still conscious though, which is a good sign. There is a better than not chance he will make a full recovery."
"Good." She sighed. "Thank you for your work in stabilizing him."
"Don't thank us too much. Most of the preparation was completed before we arrived."
"I suppose Dr. Sképsis would know what to do."
"Wasn't him either." He shook his head. "Haven't seen the lead physician anywhere. He still needs to sign a release. His assistant has not been able to get a hold of him, so we are leaving without it."
"Then who-"
"A visitor figured out what was happening and stopped the transfusion in time. She even set up a saline drip to keep the line open for us to examine."
Maggie clenched at the unprofessionalism shown by Sképsis. That he would both abandon his post and be unavailable was highly irregular. The doctor was paid to be on call specifically for problems like this. With his light workload, he should have easily been able to monitor Razz's health until he was discharged.
Relying on the mercy of an outsider to fix his mistakes was just as bad. As much as she might not personally like Branwen managing the elimination of Grimm in the area, she could reason that it was his job as a huntsman. A random civilian should not have had to solve a medical emergency.
The sound of the doors to the office flying open and slamming against the walls caught the two of them off guard. From the inside came a tight cluster of medics around a stretcher. The EMT that Maggie was speaking to excused himself and ran to them. She kept pace with him to see for herself what was going on.
They caught up to the movers on their way to the Bullhead. The deputy could briefly catch passing glimpses of the one being transported. She had to sneak around one of the attendants that held an IV bag above their head. What she could see was as dreadful as she imagined.
The patient was a mess. Little more than a gangly pile of cloth and tubing. The orange board that Razz lay on made his translucent and sweaty skin obvious. His gown clung to his body as he trembled. Maggie wanted to reach out and touch him but refrained. This was not the time or place for sentimentality.
Once at the Bullhead, the huddled formation rotated so they were now side by side with the flying machine. The EMT from before was directing them as they slid Razz up the ramp and into a unique compartment. Once on, they began to strap him in for the short flight.
"Deputy Mae." Came a croak.
The called-out deputy followed the hoarse voice to the other side of the Bullhead. Side stepping around the busied group, she found Lavender lingering at a passenger entrance. Her raw-cried eyes flitted back and forth to her lover.
"Lavender." The purple haired woman began. Her mind went blank and so automatically asked a pointless question. "How are you?"
"Been better." The grief-stricken volunteer sniffled. "Gosh, it's like a roller coaster. They say he should be fine soon but, that's what they said last time."
Maggie had never been any good at comforting people, but she was willing to give it another try. "We are all here for you. Let us know if you need anything."
"There is something you can do. We need justice. You can't let her get away with what she did to Razz."
"Who?"
"That animal!" She pointed behind Maggie to the medical office.
Streaked mascara gave the accusation claws as Lavender glared back at the emergency doors. There in front was a petite lady in a turquoise garment. The other woman saw them and returned a pitying look. They must have been the visitor the EMT had mentioned.
"I heard she was the one who saved him…"
"Did she? Or is she the one who caused his misery?" Lavender blubbered in both sadness and rage. "Am I supposed to believe he just happens to go into shock right when she shows up? They've tried to kill him twice! When will enough be enough!?"
The Bullhead engine's whirring increased as the hospital staff finished securing their patient. They were now getting into position for takeoff. One of them came over to their side and signaled for Lavender to find her seat. Maggie tried to step away, but her hand was grabbed by the volunteer.
"You'll do something, right?"
"I'll get to the bottom of it." Maggie promised. "Focus on yourself and him."
With permission given, the other female slackened with a word of thanks. The impatient medical personnel led Lavender inside the cabin. Soon after, the Bullhead took off. Slowly the flying machine became a dark blemish on the sky.
After seeing them off, Maggie took a deep breath. She made her way over to the medical office again. This time in a more controlled manner so she could process what was happening. The visitor saw her approach and straightened her posture. As the deputy got closer, she realized she had seen her before.
"I remember you. You were a part of that kerfuffle on the coastline. Laz, right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Second Lieutenant Lazuli of the Tocsin militia." She gave an awkward salute.
Deputy Mae had come to accept the militia while living with their commander. Still it took a lot of effort not to roll her eyes at the uneven gesture. While there was a place for militias in theory, especially in a kingdom like Vale without a standing military, they were rife with potential issues. Without proper oversight, they tended to descend into cycles of abuse and megalomania.
There was a reason Atlas did not allow them within their borders. They were not hostile to citizens protecting themselves, but they were against armed groups trying to govern through force. While in the military, she had been sent on several missions to forcefully disband militias that grew too large for their own good.
Insurgencies were not pretty to clean up after. Conflicts like that could destroy a culture and its people. She did not want to see the same thing happen in Tocsin that had happened to other communities. Thankfully, with Commander Corazón in charge, they were not there yet.
"The EMT said you probably saved volunteer Razz's life." The ex-specialist started gravely before turning to more of a teasing tone. "How does it feel to be a hero?"
"I don't know about that." The second lieutenant flushed, making Maggie smile. She was starting to understand why a certain feline faunus liked to tease her subordinates so much. "Anyone would have done the same thing."
"But they didn't. You did. Even when the doctor was inattentive." Something the self-appointed investigator would need to follow up on later. "How did you know there was a problem?"
Despite what Lavender thought, the deputy did not believe there was anything untoward going on. Coincidences did happen. She was mostly curious about the chain of events that led to this crisis. Producing insights might help prevent future problems.
"Our forces encounter Grimm a lot and can get seriously wounded. Sometimes they need a blood transfusion in the field and it's hard to keep track of who gets what. You can end up with the wrong blood pack going to the wrong person."
"Does that happen often?"
"It used to, before we started mandating that each squad have one medically competent officer. ABO incompatibility was one of the scenarios we were trained on. I'm glad I paid attention that day in training."
Maggie was as well. But that raised several issues she did not understand. This was not a battlefield; it was a doctor's office. How could such a mistake happen? Was Razz not tested before the transmission began? Was there some kind of clerical error?
A new rumble gained their attention. Thinking that the Bullhead was returning, they both looked up at the sky. Instead, a Dillo came along the ground. It stopped a short distance from the two of them. Riding it was a familiar buck toothed man.
"Mags. Fancy seeing you here."
"Deputy Dwrg." She replied evenly. "What can we do for you?"
"I want to pay my respects." He looked down with a hangdog expression. "I was gutted when I heard about what happened to Razz."
The newest deputy was a bit perplexed. Their message had not specified who was in trouble. Then again, he might have pieced it together like she had.
"Let's pour one out for him." Mal pulled out a half full beer from his motorcycle's central console and tipped it over to slowly empty the contents. "Seems like yesterday we were swearing him in to serve. Never got to tell him how much he meant to us."
"I'm sure you can tell him when he gets back from VCH." She said while trying to ignore the fact he had been driving with an open container.
He stopped the trickle. "Huh?"
"You just missed the transport to take him to a hospital that could handle his medical needs."
"I thought-" He stopped. "I had heard he'd kicked the bucket."
"He almost did. Thankfully, he had a guardian angel looking out for him. Twice, actually. She is also the one who stopped the bleeding after he was shot."
Mal had not processed that they were not alone in the discussion until that moment. He studied Lazuli before scowling. The way he glared at the militia member was not in a way that communicated thankfulness.
"Some people are born lucky I guess." He sneered.
Not liking the way Mal was looking at the faunus, Maggie placed her body between them. This brought his strange ire down onto her instead. She returned it with cool indifference. Not able to stand up to her for long, he instead placed the drink to his lips and chugged the last of it.
"I think it is time you got back to work, Deputy Dwrg. I can handle things from here."
"Sure thing, Deputy Mae." He threw the bottle down at his feet, shattering it into a dozen pieces.
Lazuli jumped back. The reaction he extracted was apparently humorous to him. Laughing now, he revved his engine and peeled out before driving back the way he had come. Once the Dillo had rode off, her hand unclenched from a formed fist she had been unknowingly been holding on to.
"Razz referred to that Dwrg guy before he started to seize up." The militia woman whispered. "He thought that he was the one who shot him and caused all of this."
More gossip and secondhand information. Maggie could not condemn Mal but spare Lazuli. There was the same amount of evidence against both. Yet something about this seemed different. She fell back into their old Specialist mindset. Observe, orient, decide, and then act. She needed more data.
"Let us go inside. I want to hear your side of what happened."
Author Notes: Still a little discombobulated from the holiday season, so taking next week off.
Chapter Next: Transmission (1/22/21)
