XXXVII: View to a Kill


Deputy Mae was engrossed with a medical chart when an angry thud broke her out of her readings. Several three ring binders had been dropped on to the oblong table she was seated at. The man who had carried them stood in agitation, waiting on her next order.

"Are these the last of them?" Maggie asked the assistant.

"Yes. As requested, these are all of the medical files we have in our possession for Mr. Barrett." Raúl bit his lip before asking. "Are you sure it is proper for you to look at these? What about his right to privacy?"

That was a grey area legally. Vale did offer broad protections for medical information that would make accessing these records illegal under normal circumstances. Even an employer who was paying the bills could not ask for details on treatments received by the employee.

However, Razz was not the one under investigation. The doctor's office was the target of the probe. As such, the practice could not assert a privacy defense on behalf of their patient. The deputy, sure she was in the right, distilled this justification down to a single sentence.

"I'm with the Sheriff's Office, so it's fine."

"And what about her?" He pointed to Lazuli, who was further down the table. The militia member had taken to flipping through one of the binders. "Should a private citizen also have access?"

"She has been conscripted into service." The laminated Volunteer tag that hung from her neck was proof of their temporary alliance.

"I don't feel comfortable." He fidgeted in place. "Dr. Sképsis will not be happy when he finds out."

"I'm sure he won't." She tried to tune his grating voice out and focus on the documents before her.

"He would want me to stop you."

"If you want to obstruct my investigation, go ahead. I'll happily detain you until I am done." She butted in with a firm voice. He ceased his bizarre movements at the warning. "Otherwise, go find another way to occupy your time rather than steal mine."

Shrinking back from the tongue lashing, Raúl turned heel and fled the room. It was a good thing he did. Maggie was on the verge of truly losing her temper. She did not have patience for useless people. Her sour mood had been deepening with each passing hour.

The second lieutenant cleared her throat. "They could sue, you know."

"Let them." Maggie flipped to the next page of the tome. "Until a judge or the gods themselves tell me to stop, I am going to see this all the way to the end."

"Wow. Cora was right about you."

Maggie let out a long breath. "What did that ridiculous woman say about me this time?"

"You're intense." Lazuli hastily tacked on an addendum when Maggie glared at her. "Not that there's anything wrong with that! It's refreshing to see people on the other side with as much passion as us in the militia have."

"If this is your attempt at a so called 'pick up' line, you are going to be disappointed."

"I'm not-" Her protest morphed to aggravation when she saw the other's smirk. "I think I understand why you two are friends now."

Friends was not inaccurate a word for their relationship. The commander had not really given her much of an option in the matter. Once Cyan had introduced them, Cora had decided that they would be more than acquaintances, even if it killed her.

And Maggie had been tempted to end the faunus on many occasions.

"I'll take that as a complement." She put down a chest sonogram and pulled out another record. "Hmm. Now this is interesting."

"What is it?" The new volunteer crossed the room and leaned over the open document.

"Does this portion look discolored?"

Under her finger was a medical chart. The area she traced appeared to be lighter than the underlying parchment. She was not sure though, because the shading was close enough to be an optical illusion.

"Sure does. It's like someone used a liquid eraser."

"I thought so." Left unsaid was that the area altered had to do with the patient's blood type. An 'A+' had been written on top of the off-white space. "Based on your experience, how often would you say medics erase parts of a record?"

"I can't speak for this place specifically, but it is not uncommon. Our head nurse makes small spelling mistakes all the time. Although..."

Diving back into her pile, Lazuli flipped through a folder. Her eyes processed the text as they searched. Finding what she was after, she picked up a few loose sheets and brought them over to the deputy.

The first one was a standard admissions form. It must have been filled out by Lavender since Razz would not have been in any shape to complete it. The handwriting was understandably sloppy. Still, one part was extremely legible. Under the donor requirements section, the box for 'B-' blood was selected.

"Perhaps this form was wrong and got corrected?" Maggie played the contrarian. After all, how many people knew their significant other's blood type off the top of their heads?

"It's right." She showed the second paper. "The doctor asked for a reagent test to confirm."

The lab results also had the 'B-' box checked. Below was the confirmatory signature of Dr. Sképsis. He had to have seen the correct blood type. Razz was his only patient that night.

"Then the blood type was modified after the fact." Maggie said slowly to make sure she was processing the information correctly. "This does not look like a mistake at all."

Lazuli nodded along. The former Specialist sighed at the confirmation. The talk with the militia woman, along with Mal's odd behavior, had made her skeptical of this accident. Now that she knew for sure there was something wrong, she was obligated to follow through as far as she could.

Whatever the doctor and Mal were hiding needed to be exposed. The only true way to fight corruption was to grab it by the horns and pull it kicking and screaming into the open. Sunlight was the best disinfectant. Left alone, the rot would spread.

She would not let that happen again.

"Okay. Let us see if we can pinpoint who altered the medical chart." Maggie looked at her Scroll and saw that it was late. "This might take all night. If you want to leave, I will not hold it against you."

"No way I'm leaving now." Laz smiled. "This just got interesting."

"Alright." She fired a quick message to Cyan and Cora saying she would be out late before switching the Scroll to silent mode. "Check the visitor logs out front. I will see to obtaining access to the security footage."

Her orders received, Lazuli saluted and rushed to the front of the building. Maggie on the other hand braced herself for another conversation with Raúl. He was not going to like this next request.

〇-〇-〇

The Scroll on the dresser trilled.

The device had been trying to get his attention. It had been buzzing nonstop for as long as he had been conscious, but this was a different noise from the constant message pings. The sustained ringing meant that someone was calling.

Dr. Sképsis wished it would stop. He knew it would not. The barrage was expected after what he had done.

Ignoring the summons was questionable but he could not deal with reality. Whatever else he had done over the last few years might have made him legally a crook, but it did not make him any less of a doctor. Now he could not cling to that excuse. He had betrayed his oath as a physician. That was an unforgivable sin.

And so, he had turned to drink as his means of escape.

It had started so innocently. The shot of malt had been to take the edge off. The second hit had been to replace the emptiness inside. The third had been to keep the good feelings rolling. Everything afterwards had been to completely forget his worries.

When he woke up the next morning, it was with his face next to an empty bottle. Momentarily forgetting his dark deed, he had stood up from his desk thinking he had pulled an all nighter. Having not done so since he was a resident, it brought a peaceful nostalgia.

That tranquil wellbeing was shattered when he gazed upon the evidence of his betrayal. The marker he had used to alter the document was stuck to his arm and fell to the desk. It rolled on the plastic topper until it clattered to the floor. With the reminder, he teared up and made a hasty exit. He used the door closest to his office to avoid his victim.

Arriving at his home did not make the guilt vanish. The shame only grew worse as the day drew on. Sometime in the afternoon, the first message rolled in. He checked and found that it had come from his assistant. When Sképsis did not respond immediately, more alerts appeared in swift succession.

With confirmation that the deed had been done, the full weight on his soul increased. The burden was so bad that he had again turned to his liquid crutch. This time it was a bottle of scotch. A vintage drink he had been saving since his graduation from medical school. As appropriate an occasion to have a glass as any, he supposed.

Already wobbly from the previous night, it did not take nearly as long to black out. When he awoke again, it was not under his own power. Rather, it was due to a pressure in his ribs. Opening his eyes, the doctor found that he had fallen asleep face down in his kitchen.

Reaching back to touch the spot that was aching did not stop the pain. Instead, the discomfort increased substantially. Finding the source did not take long. A rounded edge was digging into his side. Tracing the item, he found that the object was leathery. Like a boot. This discovery was cut off when it fled from his touch.

The next feeling was of that same something slamming down on his fingers.

Yelping in shock, the Mistralian flipped onto his back. Cradling his injured hand to his chest, he glared up at the ceiling. His eyes searched for what had struck him. They settled on the snarling maw of Deputy Mal Dwrg.

"Have a nice nap?"

Sképsis blinked at the question. "Not really."

"Too bad. A good sleep always helps. Especially after you screwed me so thoroughly."

The floored man wondered if this was real. Mal's appearance out of nowhere made him believe the deputy was only a hallucination. He was no psychologist, but imbalances in his brain could have manifested his shame into the image of the one who had directed the tampering of Mr. Barrett's medical files.

Another kick to the ribs proved the hypothesis false. The pain was too much. Mal was really there. In his home. And he was very upset.

"I did what you asked." The doctor slurred.

"Did you? Because from where I stand, all you did was bring more heat down on us."

Now he was being paranoid. There would be no problems. The medical examiner would have to give an explanation while hungover and sleep deprived. It really was like grad school all over again.

"Impossible." Sképsis tried to sit up but the way Mal was positioned over him made the act difficult. "The patient expired in such a way that it will look like an accident."

There may well be an internal review, but, as the highest-ranking individual at the facility, it would fall to him to take the lead. If anyone pushed for an independent investigation, it would take weeks to start one. Plenty of time to remove any incriminating evidence.

At worst, the doctor would have to pin the blame on Raúl. What a waste it would be to have to fire the diligent aide, but that was how life in the medical field worked. You sometimes had to fall on a sword for your superior. A nice severance package and a ticket back to Mistral would buy his good will on the way out of Vale.

"But he didn't 'expire.'" Out came the finger quotes and mockery. "He is still alive!"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said you boozehound! Whatever it is you think you did has failed spectacularly. Razz is on his way to a hospital in Vale and not to the morgue."

"Huh."

As much as the news shocked the doctor, it did not fill him with as much dread as he would have thought. He had failed at his task. And yet, he was okay with the mistake. He was not a killer. The millstone around his neck had been removed.

"Is that all you got for me?"

Thinking on his feet, he deflected. "How?"

As much as Sképsis liked Raúl on a personal level, he doubted the boy would have known what to do in an emergency. There was a reason he was the doctor's assistant and not a full-time nurse. He had a habit of freezing up during emergencies. Leaving him cut off from expertise with a seizing patient should have been a death sentence for the infirmed.

"Some animal with medical training showed up right when he was about to go belly up."

"Huh."

"Say 'huh' again and so help me-"

"What do you want from me, deputy?" The doctor's chest swelled up with frustration. "I'm not omniscient! How could I have known that someone would intervene?"

"You should've been there to run interference!"

"That would have been even more suspicious!" He shouted back.

A man with his credentials would have been expected to know how to treat a botched transfusion. His failure to lend proper aid would have been characterized as incompetence. Stories like that would have stuck to him. No one would have hired him in the future with both his past and then this incident clinging to him.

"And now Mags is on to me! Oh yes, she was there to! Dumb cow has it out for me!" Mal was ranting now, ignoring what the doctor said. "I saw it in her eyes! She knows I tried to silence Razz over accidently shooting him. Once he is out of ICU, there is no way she doesn't track this back to us!"

Really? That was what they were trying to cover up? That was the reason for all this insanity? Could the sheriff have not fixed this up some other way? He owned the town! They could have buried the whole affair under a mountain of paperwork and silently bought off Mr. Barrett. There was no point in killing him.

Unless there was another reason.

"Accidentally? Wendeval did not sanction this, did he?" Mal flinched. Sképsis had a Bingo. "This was to fix one of your screw-ups!"

"Our screw-up." He growled. "Ours. We own it."

"Sounds like you have a problem. Not me."

"If I go down, we all go down."

"I doubt that."

The doctor saw a way out of this. He could claim ignorance. There was no proof he was involved. It would be Mal's word versus his. The key would be getting Wendeval to favor him over the deputy. Based on the way the sheriff would talk about his protégé privately, there was reason to believe he would not support Mal if their backs were against a wall.

"I'm going to inherit the Sheriff's Office! Me! I will not let all my hard work go to pot because of a lousy missed shot!"

"Maybe you should not have missed then..."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sképsis knew he had made a mistake. Mal was on the edge. Those last words seemed to push him over the brink. His hand grabbed the doctor's collar and hauled him up to his knees.

"You're right." He pulled his sidearm and pressed it into the doctor's face. "Think I might miss from this distance? Come on! Place your bets! It'll be your last."

"What-" The physician gasped at the sudden turn. "What are you doing?"

"If you won't help, then you are dead weight."

The barrel pushing into the general practitioner's forehead was unyielding with pressure. It was easily going to leave an oddly shaped bruise. Broken capillaries under the skin were the least of his worries. His thoughts were on the one holding the gun.

"No! Wait!"

"Too late for that buddy." Mal's eyes turned to slits.

He was serious. There was no room for compromise or mercy. His arm was steady, even as Sképsis shook like a leaf. Fearing for his life, the doctor opened his mouth again to plead for his life. Nothing came out except for a low-grade whine when the gun's hammer moved back and struck.

There was a loud click.

Deputy Dwrg had pulled the trigger. Nothing had happened. The doctor's legs gave out as he toppled over. The loud beating in his ears made him miss what his would-be executioner was saying.

"I-What?" There was a warmth in his pants.

"We still need you." Mal placed his pistol back into its holster. "That earns you a reprieve for the time being."

"Thank you…"

"You shouldn't." He cruelly smirked. "If it were up to me, your brains would be plastered all over that wall. You're on my list now. Unless you shape up, I'm taking you out when boss man says you have outlived your usefulness."

Then the sheriff was in on this? Or was there something else going on? Either way, Sképsis was going to keep his mouth shut until he could find a way to excise himself from their grasp. They had clearly lost their minds.

"Right. Come on then. Time to see the sheriff." Mal implored.

The deputy tried to hoist the downtrodden doctor to his feet. He refused to budge however, no matter how roughly he was treated. Before Mal could threaten him again, he whispered an appeal. One that filled him with much shame.

"Can you give me a moment."

"Why?" Annoyance colored his voice.

"I need to change my undergarments."

〇-〇-〇

The darkness was all consuming.

Crimson light from above lent an eerie vibe to each click traveled. With her headlights illuminating the path before her, Cyan guided her two-wheeler down the dirt trail. At the end of the road was a cabin picked up by her pale-yellow beams. Switching off the machine let the displaced abyss claim the land once more.

After dismounting the Dillo, the senior deputy studied the ground. Various potholes and ragweed littered the landscape. The environmental neglect extended to the house. One of the shutters was off its hinge and clacked in the wind. The roof was also missing quite a few shingles.

The property was not abandoned. It belonged to one "Tiny" Tone Guerrero. After asking around, a few volunteers had given up his address. None of them knew him too well except that he stuck to himself and liked to hang out around the Slappy Stingray on the weekends. They had to drive him home a few times when he got too drunk at the bar to walk himself back.

Cyan had made this late-night visit to have a chat with Tiny. He needed to realize that she knew that he was a local and that their deal to avoid each other was not going to hold. They could bury the hatchet, so long as he agreed to leave Ms. Mustard and her music shop alone.

To avoid a violent confrontation, she had decided to come alone. Having Qrow along would have pushed the discussion in the wrong direction. Him and Tiny did not have the best meeting of the minds last time.

Of course, now that she was here, she was having second thoughts.

Her first step forward was the hardest. Each one after built on her confidence. Maneuvering around the divots in the pathway brought her near a picket fence that enclosed a meadowland. Its damaged facade caused her to pause. The abused post at the center had blackened lines racing down its length.

Kneeling by the wood, she ran her fingers through the surrounding turf. Clumps of tender greens followed her raking. Most of the blades of grass were dead or dying. The reasons varied widely.

Some places looked singed from a flash fire. Other areas looked like they had frozen over and thawed. As they were currently in the more temperate time of year, both of those scenarios were improbable.

An acute stinging sensation made her pull back. Checking her hand, a piece of metallic shrapnel was stuck to her ring finger. Jagged scraps were mixed in with the decaying matter. While combing for more clues, a glimmer drew her eyes. A bullet casing had rolled into the weeds. The discarded metal jacket was easily the same size as the ammo that the Sheriff's Office used in its anti-Grimm weaponry.

That deduction sent a chill up her spine. The rifle she had taken from the female member of the crew had been a powerful piece of armament. Now Cyan had reason to believe that Tiny could be packing even heavier heat.

With even more trepidation, the senior deputy stood upright and walked over to the building. This took her to the front of a screen door. There were no lights on inside. To avoid any accidents, she decided to announce herself.

"Mr. Guerrero?" She called out while hitting her knuckles upon the metal.

No response. Thinking he might have turned in early, she knocked again. This time she was much louder. The banging sounds rankled into the night.

"Tiny?" She tried his less formal name. "This is Deputy Cyan Roscoe. Are you in?"

Nothing changed inside. No illumination or shouts in answer. Just her standing outside a threatening and well-armed individual's house. Her head was telling her to retreat but her gut was telling her to see this out.

The curtains on the door were pulled back. There was nothing stopping her from peeking in. She cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed up to the glass. The added darkness allowed her to see inside.

From what she could discern, it was a total bachelor's pad. Refuse and clothing were strewn throughout the room on the other side. All in all, totally ordinary. What was out of place was streaks of dark red on the carpeting. The viscosity of the dried material made it appear to be blood.

Worried now that something terrible had happened, she pulled on the door. It was unlocked. The sliding door squealed as it parted to make room for her to pass. Squeezing into the enclosed space, she yelled for anyone who might have been inside.

"Hello! Can anyone hear me?"

Inside the room was as pitch black as outside. Drawing her firearm now, Cyan began sweeping the house for threats. She rapidly moved across the house. The living room and kitchen were a mess but otherwise empty. A bedroom in the back was similarly clear. It appeared she was all alone.

Not wanting to spend all night shrouded in black, she turned on an overhead. Only one of the bulbs lit up. The other was burned out. Adjusting to the new brightness took a moment, but soon enough she had a decent amount to work with. As she returned to the main room, she decided to start again at the blood stains.

The pool of dried ichor contrasted with the tan carpeting. Someone had tried dabbing at it, but only managed to smear it around. A light powder, probably baking soda, had been poured on to a portion of it. They must have been testing first to see if it would help with the cleaning process.

Away from the main spill was a castoff cluster of red on the wall. Due to the amount, and the lack of other obvious damage to the paneling, it must have come from a deep cut. A bullet would have left more of a splatter.

The deputy began trying to reason out what had happened. Either an accident or a struggle occurred involving a sharp instrument. The general messiness of the room did not lend credence to either interpretation. She did not think anyone died from the injury. Whoever had been punctured had only suffered a flesh wound.

Now that she knew that there was no one in immediate danger, she knew she should leave the area as soon as possible. Her reason for entering the property was no longer valid. Before making her exit, she did notice one other detail. Dots of red on the flooring formed a faint trail.

Following the blood drops carried her across the living room and back to the kitchen once more. Without the fear of a surprise, she was able to examine the region more thoroughly. What caught her eye was that it was similarly trashed out except for the space around the sink. Coincidentally or not, the trail stopped at the foot of the wash station.

"No way." She gasped.

In the basin, she found a surprise. Two expensive looking metal implements. Each was about the length of her forearm. They were sectioned off by seams, indicating they could collapse and expand. From the end of one of the rods was a sharpened point.

There was one person she had to let know immediately. She nearly dropped her Scroll in the scramble to make the call. Having learned her lesson from last time, she had received his number and saved it to her contacts. Hopefully, he was not too wrapped up with his nieces to answer.

"Kind of late for a booty call, isn't it?" Qrow answered on the third ring.

The man on the other end was fully clothed despite the objection. There appeared to be some glitter on his left cheek, but there was no time to ask about that. Important things were happening, and she could not afford to get sidetracked.

"Sorry, but I found something huge. Can we meet up?"

He hummed. "Can it wait until tomorrow? I have plans."

"You're not going out drinking again, are you?" Cyan did not want to have a repeat of the other night.

"No, not tonight. Some chucklehead wants to chat in the plaza around midnight. They left a cute little note with reception saying that they had important information to share with me and me alone."

That was an alarming development. "They are trying to lure you?"

"Seems that way." Qrow shrugged. "I'm guessing it's our pals from this afternoon."

She would have taken that wager. Who else could it have been? The only people they had interacted with were from Tocsin or the outer regions. No one else would have had an idea of where he was staying.

"Actually, that ties into what I wanted to talk about. Here." She turned the Scroll, along with the front camera, around to show the sink's contents. "I think I found Cobalt's huntsman weapons. Those are tonfas, right? They look fancy enough to be mech-shift capable."

"That they do. And there is a blade coming out of the tip, just like Schaffer said. Could you check them for a shift trigger? They are usually buttons around the handle."

She brought the screen back to her face. "I don't want to disturb the scene until we can get this documented."

The deputy then cursed under her breath. She had forgotten that they could not trust their current medical examiner. That complication meant they would need to call in a forensics team from Vale. The logistics on the chain of evidence was going to be a nightmare.

"Where are you anyway? I don't recognize the place."

She spent the next ten minutes catching him up on the situation. During which, she repeated the events that had led to the discovery: her chat with Pamela, tracking down Tiny's Relay residence, and then the signs of an assault. Qrow listened intently before adding commentary at the end.

"I guess that makes Tiny our prime suspect." He smirked. "And that gives us a good enough reason to arrest them all."

"The other two were not in town at the time. I doubt they were involved."

"Maybe not, but there is something fishy going on. Do you remember that video that was used to frame me?" She nodded as the image of a person dressed like Qrow executing a security guard flashed in her mind. "The bald chick was my body double."

Another shock to the system. "When did you figure this out?"

"Er. Right after letting her go." He embarrassingly admitted. "I had a hunch and checked in with a contact of mine. They confirmed she worked odd jobs for the ringleader of the heist. I was planning to track her down in Vale later, but if they are coming to me, why not kill two birds with one stone?"

Cyan was ill at ease with that idiom. "Do you need help arresting them?"

"Nah. Should be easy."

"Are you sure it will be safe? It's late and you will be all on your own."

"Should you really be the one giving me a lecture on safety, Little Ms. House Call?" It was her turn to be embarrassed at being called out. "Come on. What are they going to do? The only one who seemed to have any brain cells was the guy with the scar on his nose. And how smart could he be to want to try me again after I trounced them last time?"

"I guess..."

"I will need a place to question them though. Could you set up a space?"

"Sure. We could use one of our interrogation rooms."

The Sheriff's Office would be deserted at this time of night. They would have until the next morning to learn as much as they could. By then, word would spread and Mal or Wendeval would try to run interference. This could be their only opportunity to get answers.

"Great. I'll see you in a bit."

The picture cut out, leaving Cyan alone with her thoughts. She had a bad feeling about this. The deputy did not believe the criminal trio were as dumb as the huntsman thought. Last time they had tried to trap them in an alleyway in daylight. Now they wanted to meet out in the open at night. Something had shifted.

They had to have a trump card. Qrow was being overconfident in his abilities. Knowingly walking into a trap was borderline suicidal.

Cyan's mind whirled as she checked the clock. It was a half hour until midnight. She had a decision to make. Should she do what was proper or what she believed was right?

The correct procedure would be to trust Qrow and stick around to watch over the evidence. She should immediately call some volunteers to guard the home and contact a forensics team from Vale. Then she could set up the interrogation room.

That was the safe choice. Reasonable in the face of all evidence. A properly ethical response.

The other option was to get on her Dillo and drive as fast as she could to make it to the plaza before the meetup. She could be there to lend a hand if anything unseemly happened. What she thought she could do to back up Qrow, she was not sure, but it had to be better than nothing.

That was risky. Completely reckless if she was wrong. But what if she was right? Could she forgive herself if harm came to Qrow and she did nothing to help?

In the end, the choice was easy.

After taking a picture of the tonfas, she departed from the house. If Tiny was going to be part of the hit squad that would attack Qrow, then he was probably setting up the trap with the rest of them. He would not be home anytime soon.

Sliding back on to the motorcycle, she kicked it into drive. Before hitting the throttle, she checked to make sure her 12mm was ready. There was no telling what might happen. Locked and loaded, she pealed out onto the road.

As she drove, she kept an eye on the clock. Each minute passed was another closer to the deadline. Each bump in the road corresponded with a thump in her chest. Ten minutes to go and she reached the outskirts of town.

Along the way, she tried calling for backup. Maggie was her first preference although she had to give up after a few failed attempts. Cora would not be able to make it downtown in time, so Cyan did not try to contact her. For obvious reasons, she did not call Mal. Finally, the volunteers were not paid enough to deal with this.

She was on her own.

Five minutes left and she passed the Slappy Stingray. She was not going to make it at this rate. The speedometer hit its limits as she gave it all she had. In the distance, she could hear the toll from the bell tower begin its chime to signal the expiration of the previous day.

On the eighth ding, she made it to the plaza. The cobblestone under her treads groaned as she hit the brakes. With no time to spare, she hopped off and scrambled for the center square. Her head swiveled trying to find the huntsman.

At the end of the chimes, she saw him. Qrow was a decent distance from her. Safe and sound and leaning against the fountain. He was facing the opposite direction, but she could tell his arms were crossed in annoyance.

No one else was around.

She chuckled to herself. Maybe, she thought, she had over reacted. Letting her imagination run wild had gotten her in trouble before.

This was Qrow Branwen. One of the greatest huntsmen alive. She had seen him perform incredible feats, such as kick down a dead bolted door and outsmart a trigger-happy gang. There was no way he could be undone so easily.

Then a new addition to the architecture caught her eye. Tied to the top of the fountain was a white fabric. Under the red moonlight, it turned cerise. The flag fluttered in the breeze. Its presence foreboded a terrible new threat.

Her whole body went numb.

Maggie had told her of such markers during their time on the shooting range. The former specialist had used them on the battlefield as reference points to measure wind speed. Snipers needed to know how much resistance their bullets would meet over long distances.

Wide eyes searched for where the danger would come from. The plaza did not offer many hiding spots. She assessed and dismissed several possible locations, such as the benches and shadows that lined the perimeter. Unconvinced, she continued to scan. All the while the thumping in her chest increased.

And then she found it. A gleam from the tower. Knowing that the only reflective surface up there was the bell, Cyan knew that it could only be one thing.

"Qrow!" Her voice echoed.

The sound took on a deep tenor that distorted the word. The huntsman heard the plea and found her standing there. Confusion ruled his face as he went on alert. But she was too late. He could not avoid the oncoming danger.

An impact to his chest caused Qrow to crumple and fall.


Chapter Next: Dark was the Night, Cold was the Ground (2/19/21)