XXXVIII: Dark was the Night, Cold was the Ground
The anguish of the one calling his name prompted Qrow to act. On instinct, he flexed his Aura in every direction and turned to the voice. Sprinting towards him was one of the last people he had expected.
Seeing the sheer amount of terror on Roscoe's face caused him to consciously maintain the protective field. When he felt the distinct tug of his manifested soul stretching along with the wail of a faraway gun, he determined what was happening.
He was under fire.
It was the shock of the event rather than the collision that caused him to tumble. His experience had him rolling along the sandstone to avoid the follow-up. Bits of debris rained down upon him as he found safety behind the fountain.
A steady clap from another gun joined the struggle. The deputy had her weapon out and was returning a volley in the direction of the sniper. With every shot, she came closer. The hail of bullets must have caused the assailant to pause their offensive. In seconds she was hunkered down behind the basin next to him.
"Are you alright?"
"Think so." He patted his chest to make sure.
Nothing sticky came back with his hand. Whatever relief either of them had at the news was taken away when the statue above them exploded. Plaster flew into the air as the head of a cherub tumbled in front of them.
The detonation caused Roscoe to flinch. She had almost completely risen out of their shared cover before Qrow had grabbed her arm and yanked her back down. Another slug whizzed by where she had been milliseconds before.
"Stay down." He rasped as pain bloomed in his chest.
Though he had blocked the initial shot from penetrating skin, the region still smarted. The blow had been akin to taking a sledgehammer to the breastbone. There would be a nasty bruise by the next day if he lived to see morning.
The wince he made alerted her to his discomfort. "You're hurt!"
"I've been worse off."
Though true, he was having a hard time recalling when that might have been. They were in a tight spot without many options. Pinned down at a distance was not a situation he could counter easily. His fighting style relied on stealth and overwhelming force. Neither were possible in this situation.
Compounding the problem was that Last Chancery did not have a gun mode. Even if it did, he was not confident he could get line of sight on the gunner. There had not been enough time to figure out exactly where the enemy was positioned. Firing blindly would be dangerous.
A nudge to his shoulder shook him out of his thoughts. Roscoe was eyeing him expectantly, wanting direction on how to respond. On what she should do. He had a ready-made statement for this kind of emergency.
"Let me handle this."
Predictably, she did not like the suggestion. "C'mon. Don't shut me out."
"I'm not."
"You are!"
Her icy glare could have frozen him solid. He blew her off and turned away again. Focus was required. An inventory of what he knew needed to be made.
Whoever was out there, they were good. The gunshot had got him dead center mass. They also knew the dirty little secret about Aura. It was not automatic, as many civilians thought. That meant they probably had theirs unlocked as well. All of that added up to one thing.
This was a huntsman level fighter.
Qrow was not sure how long he would last against that type of opponent at the current pace. He estimated he could only take a couple more similarly sized hits before his Aura gave out. Pure happenstance had stopped him from becoming a corpse. With his fortunes, that was probably the last of the good luck he had left.
A hand under his chin brought him back from his doomed thinking. Red and blue locked on to each other. She was pleading now. For a flash, those cerulean orbs turned silver.
"We are in this together." Summer Rose said.
No. Not Summer. He had to remind himself.
Roscoe was not his old teammate. And yet, her safety mattered to him. If he was not careful, he was going to lose another one. That could not happen. It would break him.
The cold realization also broke his chain of thought. He was back in the moment. An eerie vibe unsettled him. Something was off.
"Hold up." He lowered her hand. "Listen."
After the flurry of activity, there was nothing. No more potshots or attempts at trying to lure them out from their refuge. All was silent in the plaza. An ill omen.
"Are they gone?" Roscoe asked with confusion.
"They are waiting for us to make a move."
The sniper had the advantage and seemed poised to wait them out. Any movement on their part would be seen and fired upon. The two of them were safe for now, but that would not hold. Eventually the shooter would get tired of waiting and reposition. When that happened, no one would be safe.
Qrow had no choice.
"Did you see where they are hiding?"
"The belfry. There was something shiny up there that did not belong."
From what he recalled the tower was on the very edge of the plaza. He could cover the length of it within a few seconds if he pushed himself. The elevation would be a problem, but he could improvise to make it to the top. The huntsman only required a head start.
"I need to close the gap." He swallowed to push the bile down. "You can help me do that, but you need to do exactly what I say."
She nodded eagerly. Qrow sighed.
"I'm going to cause a distraction." He started while taking off his cape and bundling it up. "That should give you enough time to squeeze off a few at 'em. I'll use the cover to make my way over to our guest. Got it?"
"Yes." There was not an ounce of hesitation.
"On three then. Wait until you hear them before you rise. Once I'm out, get back down."
He crawled along the circumference of the fountain. At the tangent of the barrier, he swiveled his head back to Roscoe. The deputy was on the opposite end waiting for him.
She gave him one last nod before the count began. He held up a finger. With a flick, a second joined the one. On the last beat, a third rose. With the signal given, he tossed his cape into the air.
As the wad flew, it unfurled and began floating with the wind. The trick worked as their shooter lit up the fluttering fabric with lead. Qrow watched on as a hole was punched through his third favorite accessory.
Prompted by the misfire, Roscoe immediately stood and began unloading her own rounds. Trusting that the distraction was working, Qrow hightailed it towards the clock tower in a serpentine pattern. He made it halfway before a blur buzzed by his face.
Another zag brought him to the base of the tower. There was a door that led inside he could have used to get inside the building. He ignored that way for a different approach.
Stairs were not his style anyway.
Channeling all his strength into his thighs, he coiled like a spring and jumped. Cracking pavement accompanied his assent. Halfway up the structure, his right foot touched a banister. This purchase allowed him to propel himself higher.
On the way up, he deployed his second favorite accessory. The curvature of his scythe caught on the brass cap that held the clock face hands together. Using the momentum he had already gained, he ran along the glowing dial. At ten o'clock, the sickle slid off.
Left foot now on the frame of the clock, he again pushed down. This was enough to send him above the railing and into the alcove. Falling into a squat, he searched the dark recesses for the sharpshooter. It did not take long to locate the threat.
A long barrel was pointed in his direction. With a quick tilt, he used his pole arm to deflect another shot. A ringing from above indicated the ricochet had hit the bell above. Closing in on his adversary, he saw that their weapon morphed into a blade. He did likewise with his own.
The adversary's jackknife came down in a slashing motion. He blocked with the flat of his much larger sword. The force applied along with the strange weapon confirmed his suspicions. Qrow was facing another hunter.
Huntress. His mind corrected.
Focusing on the one in front of him, he sketched out a feminine figure beneath a black jacket. A snarling face peeked out of the darkness. One that he recognized intimately. Familiar hazelnut eyes and red hair harassed his memories.
"Cordelia?"
The blast from his past lifted her weapon and slammed it down again. He angled the attack downward and spun to her left. The space was too cramped for his own retaliatory strike, so he settled for a pommel to the back.
She took the hit and instead of recoiling, she leaned in. Her back collided with his front. He was forced to wrap his arms around her shoulders to keep her from getting a cheap shot in. The push sent them both tumbling over the guard rail.
〇-〇-〇
"Freaks." Kahlua mumbled as she watched her benefactor and foe fall together.
The two were still in a struggling embrace as they disappeared from view. A dull thump indicated they had landed on the adjacent building's roof. Any hope that the drop had broken both of their necks disappeared as the sound of a clash of sharpened alloy filled the air.
Understanding had dawned for Kahlua after watching the exchange. She now knew she had never stood a chance. Everything about Branwen showed that she could not have killed him on her own. He had taken a bullet to the chest and somehow seemed no worse for wear. Emphasizing this was the way the huntsman had effortlessly scaled the spire. No normal human could have done that.
The thief shivered at the display of raw power. That Delia could seemingly keep up made her glad they were on the same side. Taking him solo would have never worked. She wondered if this was what Mead had been trying to warn her about. Was this why he had been so adamant about her leaving town?
Crisis of faith aside, she reverted her sight back to the courtyard. The cowgirl had emerged from her hiding space. A blaze filled her stride as she headed for the conflict zone. That she would run towards the danger made her braver than Kahlua.
That bravery was not going to be rewarded.
The trio had agreed ahead of time that Kahlua and Tiny would be on hand to clean up if Branwen somehow survived the first strike. His injuries should have slowed him down enough for them to end him. Instead, they were going to have to play interference.
Kahlua found the situation disappointing. The deputy was kind of cute. Alas, they all had their parts to play.
Stepping out from her spot in a merchant's stall on the perimeter, Kahlua stuck to the cover of the night. She creeped up on the unsuspecting law officer. Staying hidden was paramount. She did not want to give the game away.
Not again.
Getting closer became easier when the stalked woman's path became blocked. In the vestibule stood Tiny. His appearance halted the deputy in her place. Or, more accurately, the gun in his hand stopped her. This allowed Kahlua to come within a few car lengths. She settled in beside a concrete wall.
"Mr. Guerrero." Her hand moved to her holster.
"Deputy." He flatly responded while keeping the gun pointed at the ground.
"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you around. That note you left Qrow was not very subtle." A slight tilt of her head made it clear she was checking everything within her immediate vision. "Where are the rest of your crew?"
"Not important."
"I guess this works out. I wanted to have a word with you."
"Yeah?"
Now he was curious. So was Kahlua. What did the two of them have to talk about? Or was the other woman stalling? Kahlua weighed the pros and cons of taking her out now. She decided to let things play out as they continued to converse.
"Yeah. I wanted to ask for your whereabouts earlier this week."
"Also not important."
A sudden thud above almost caused the female stalker to let out a yelp. The two in front of her were not as startled. Instead, they stayed deathly still as they sized each other up. Both waited for a hint of a change in intentions.
"You're right. My questions can wait. I will ask that you disarm and step aside."
"Counteroffer. Turn around and walk."
Kahlua held in a snort. If Tiny believed that she would do that, then his nickname really was coined for his brain size. The deputy was too much of a paragon to let this lie. Confirming her thoughts, the law enforcer made no attempt to follow the advice.
"I can't do that." She placed her palm on the pistol's grip.
"Regrettable."
Now things were getting interesting. Once more, Kahlua wondered if she should get involved. Again, she decided against it. Why risk getting involved when Tiny had it covered? And if he did not, well, no skin off her nose.
Once again, they were at an impasse. The law woman and the criminal stared holes through each other. Each had their weapon of choice at hand. The signs of impending violence were all around. Despite this, the deputy gave him one more chance.
"Final warning. Step out of the way, please."
He disregarded her threat and shifted to the side. His arm began to raise. Black metal in his hands flashed crimson. At the same time, the deputy pulled her own. The timing of the escalation did not allow the onlooker to see who got theirs up first.
Kahlua had to look away as a flash illuminated the enclosed space. There was a single bark of discharge. When she came back, she let out a long, whispery breath.
"Of course."
Tiny grabbed his side. The heater he was clutching tumbled harmlessly out of his hand as he stumbled. Crossing the threshold, he took a few more steps adjacent to his opponent. The deputy still had her gun fixated on him but made no further aggressions.
Hunched now against a pillar, he tried to gain his bearings by placing his backside to the pole. The attempt did not work. Instead, he slid down until his legs were splayed out on the ground. A streak of red was left behind on the facade.
And there went the cinematic experience. The deputy moseyed over and confiscated Tiny's weapon to make any hope of a reversal nonexistent. The firefight Kahlua had been expecting whimpered out. If this had been on the big screen, she would have wanted her money back.
The thief began to move.
Close. Closer still. She tried to keep her excitement in check. There would be no mistakes this time.
Little miss had no idea Kahlua was there. Reaching into her holster, she slowly brought the borrowed gun out. Preloaded with fire dust, the only thing that was going to be left of the deputy was a charred heap.
In the back of Kahlua's head, she could hear a new score. Like something out of a slasher film. The unsuspecting victim was hovering over the fallen brute, trying to get him to talk. All the while the true threat approached.
When she was within easy striking distance, she was ready to pounce. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her vision narrowed. So much so, that she ended up smacking her big toe into an object. A hollow thud was made. Looking down at her feet, a discarded can bounced on the cobblestone.
Such a clang should have been hard to hear out in the open air. Even if it was heard, no one should have been able to pick Kahlua out of the surroundings. Improbably, the gray hat turned in the thief's direction. Those ocean eyes found the thief immediately. They then narrowed gravely.
There were more flashes of light. Kahlua could not look away this time. Her mouth opened, but she could not scream. Only a whimper came out.
〇-〇-〇
Cyan rushed to check on the crumpled form next to the hoary wall. When she arrived, she grimaced at the terrible spectacle. Slumped against the barrier was a woman. Three red holes were punched through her core. There was no movement.
Double checking confirmed that the individual was deceased. She had been killed instantly. Her face was contorted with bugged out eyes and a gaping mouth.
I did that. The deputy blocked out the thought.
Some of her burden was relieved when she saw a gun next to the corpse, which she picked up. Cyan had seen the firearm but was worried she had mislabeled the object as a threat. If it had been a Scroll, or another innocuous item, then that meant she had killed someone by accident. She was glad that her split second decision had not been wrong.
Being closer to the deceased revealed that she was an associate of Tiny. Kahlua. That made two perpetrators accounted for. Where was the third? Was it the other one, Mead, who had been shooting at them? Or were there more suspects?
Marching back over to the parked motorcycle, the first thing she did was plug her Scroll into the front console to activate a distress signal. Anyone on their emergency channels would get a pre-recorded message asking for assistance. She entered the active shooter code so that responders would know to be cautious.
Next, she popped the trunk. To maintain the chain of evidence for a future inquiry, she placed her service weapon and the confiscated guns into separate evidence bags. She made sure to sign and date the outside plastic before stowing the bundles away in a side compartment.
Needing a new weapon, Cyan withdrew her auxiliary gun from its locked cage. In case of emergencies, she had a specialty hand-cannon ready to go. The shells were specifically made to puncture Grimm hide. It might have been overkill, but she did not want to take any chances.
Checking once more to make sure she had everything in place, she closed the trunk. While in stride she also grabbed a pair of shackles from her saddle bag as she returned to Tiny. The felled man had not moved. He was still pressing down on the wound to his flank.
"Mr. Guerrero?" She asked as she knelt beside his legs. He stared blankly into the distance. "Are you there?"
The large man refused to meet her eyes. Oddly enough, his face did not show pain. He seemed to not comprehend what had happened. Being shot must have been so out of the ordinary that he could not process the trauma. Whatever his body was telling him did not compute.
Cyan was sure he would survive if he got medical assistance. Thanks to the signal she sent out, reinforcements would be on their way soon enough. She just had to sit there and keep watch over him. Maybe they could even begin the interrogation.
She had plenty of questions for him. Why did he have Cobalt's tonfas? What did they have against Qrow when he had already given back the ring? And how did the Sheriff's Office and the medical examiner tie into all of this?
This was the break in the investigation she had been waiting for.
Another loud crash echoing from above killed those thoughts. Whatever was happening up on the roof was serious. If Qrow had not already apprehended his opponent, they must have been very dangerous.
Her huntsman needed help. The deputy was not sure how much assistance she could provide, but she needed to do something. Once again, she was going to have to break internal policy.
"You're going to be okay." Cyan reassured as she clipped the cuffs around his ankles. "Sit tight and don't give my people any trouble when they arrive."
Tiny did not look like he was going to be much of a flight risk. Any remaining fight in him had disappeared awhile ago. She had left the handcuff portion off to allow him to continue holding his wound. Taking that away would have been cruel.
Rising now, she approached the entryway. The heavy oak door was still open from when Tiny had confronted her. With the anti-Grimm revolver in hand, she inched into the building.
The interior was cluttered with furniture covered in plastic. Based on the masking tape and discarded brushes, the building was being remodeled. These obstacles created plenty of spaces where more opponents could be hiding. She would need to be careful as she looked for a way up.
"Slow and steady." Cyan muttered as more of the ruckus from on high trickled down.
〇-〇-〇
Delia ducked as the gaudy green implement swished over her head. Several strands of cut hair fell before her face. Retribution came in the form of her blade grazing Qrow's neck. A calloused hand caught her wrist on the second pass.
Before he could crush her carpal bones, she twirled away with a backflip. He released to avoid being pulled along and instead swung again. This time, she was the one to latch on to his arm. Instead of any fancy acrobatics, he opted for a headbutt. The crown of his skull smashed into her jaw.
With stars in her eyes, she retreated a few paces. She slashed in front of her to dissuade him from following. He did not bother to pursue. Instead, he reestablished his footing. She did as well, giving them both an instant to gaze at each other.
The extra space had afforded them more avenues to tussle than was available in the belltower, although it was still a tight fit. Their new battleground was packed with exposed pipes and chest high metal boxes that created narrow corridors. Enough room to swing and dodge but not much else.
Tit for tat, the deadly game had continued since they had touched down. Between the hacks and the grapples, there were a lot of low blows, biting, and hair pulling. If this had been a sanctioned bout, someone would have broken them up for their tactics. As it was, this was a fight to the death. Any honor had left the equation.
They had been going at it for only a short time, but those minutes had felt like an eternity. She was sucking wind from the exertion. It had been a long time since she had a duel like this. Most of her skirmishes tended to end before they began. While not as obvious, his chest also rose with an increased regularity.
As she prepared for the next round, Qrow made an unexpected move. He stepped back into the shadows created by their environment. The night shrouded him to where only his red eyes were left visible. Then they too vanished.
She sprinted to his last known position, but it was too late. Glancing down the rows did not reveal where he had gone. The only exits were a stairwell door that overlooked the plain or to jump. She doubted he was interested in taking either of those routes. Qrow had to still be there.
"Been a while, eh Cordie?" The abyss asked.
The rules of engagement had changed. They were now playing hide and seek. Though, the stakes for being caught were much higher in this version.
"I prefer Delia now." She answered as she searched the depths.
"Fancy." Qrow's chuckle surrounded her. "You don't call. You don't write. But you do drop by unexpectedly. So now that you are here, why don't you tell your old pal what it is that you are after?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"You wanted a little bit of fun time with me and my sword? You know you could have just asked."
"Qrow..." She warned.
"Makes sense, I suppose." He continued with the joke. "The last time we danced, I left you breathless. Are you wanting to return the favor?"
Following the voice did not help. Any time she saw an outline that could have been the huntsman, he disappeared. Every stab was met with empty air or sparks that her machete created from scrapping the surrounding structures.
His cawing laughter rang out with each miss. Her temper began to simmer. He had not changed one bit. Everything was a game to him. Ever since they were teenagers, he would push people's buttons. Try to get them to overreact.
Delia relaxed her grip to calm down. He was trying to rile her up. Make an error for him to take advantage. Mocking banter was something he used to do back in Beacon during spars whenever he was outmatched. If he had the advantage, he would have finished this long ago.
Qrow was losing. She was not sure how exactly, but he was on the defense. Perhaps her rounds had struck true and he was trying to hide an injury. Not a severe one, but a wound that was debilitating in a drawn-out affair. If she did not make a mistake, she would win.
"No. In fact, it's nothing personal." She needed to keep him talking. "Just a business arrangement that you ended up on the wrong side of."
"Sure feels personal to me." There was a long pause. "I am curious though. How much is my life worth? If it is less than nine figures, I will be offended."
"This isn't about lien!" She yelled, forgetting about needing to stay calm.
"Yeah? Tell me what it is about then. I'm a good listener."
It was her turn to laugh. Now he wanted this to be a therapy session? Another ploy to buy him more time? There was no reason to play his games.
Although, what did it matter?
Qrow would be dead after this. Letting out her reasoning might be cathartic. A chance to unburden herself, right up until she murdered him.
"My son was stolen from me by his father." She began. This was the first time she had vocalized her situation to an outsider. "The people who hired me will only tell me where they are if I work for them. You are my last contract. Once I give them your head, they'll give me what I want."
With that confession out in the open, she suddenly felt much lighter. The speech also caused Qrow to grow quiet. Uncannily so. Glancing around did not reveal him. Wherever he was, he was staying put for the time being.
"I didn't realize the Xiongs were that cold hearted…"
"Xiong?" Did he really believe a low tier Valean crime family could keep her caged? "I'm with the Duma!"
More silence. Only the name of the Hidden Kingdom hung in place. She wondered if the huntsman was going to attack. She strained to hear any hint of where the raid might come from. Again, she was given no foreknowledge.
"The hell is a Duma?"
Those five words caused her to boil over. "Stop playing around!"
"I'm not." His firm retort left no doubt. "Who are the Duma?"
Did he really not know who they were? Jackie had said that Qrow was a threat to the organization. Or the Countess had. She was the reason a green light had been granted by the High Court to remove him.
"They're infiltrators. They slither in and take over. You can be working for them and not even realize it. They have money and influence, and they know how to use both to run over people in their way."
"And I did something to end up as a human speed bump?" When she did not disagree, he pressed on. "It's not too late to stop. We could go to the police or Ozpin. They could find your kid in no time."
"And instantly end up arrested? I can't afford to spend the rest of my life rotting in a cell right now."
She did not believe herself to be above the law. Delia intended to atone one day for her sins. But not now. Not when her child was still in danger.
"Then we will keep it between us." He implored. "I could use my connections and we'll find 'em together. Your name would not even have to come up. Walk away and we can meet up again to figure out how to make this right."
"You'll let me leave? After trying to execute you?"
"I've had worse dates." She could imagine the smile on his lips.
"I don't think I can. I've done many things I'm not proud of."
So much carnage was on her hands. The almost half a year she had spent as a button woman had caused her to cross every line. She regretted those actions deeply. But, if they got her what she wanted, then it would all be worth it.
"Haven't we all?"
That had to be the most genuine thing she had ever heard come out of his mouth. The underlying sense of mourning tugged at her heart strings. If only she had found him earlier. Back when she could still be redeemed.
As it was, there was only one way forward. "Shall we finish this?"
"Don't be stubborn!" He pleaded. "Let me help you!"
"The only ones who can are the Duma." The assassin gripped her machete tightly once more, bringing it up to eye level. "They got me here. They provided me with this weapon. Now I have to see this through."
Qrow's defeated tone breezed her ears. "You're set on this."
"I can't turn my back on this path now." She shuddered as her mind was made up. "I'm too far gone."
"We'll see about that."
A reflection in her blade clued her in to Qrow's approach. Delia turned and slashed horizontally at his abdomen. He flowed around the cut to wallop her in the face with an open palm. Staggering now, she had only a split second to brace for a kick that swept her out and onto the cold ground. She tried scrambling away but ran out of real estate. They were at the roof's precipice.
The huntsman clambered atop her. She tried to hold him off by forming a half guard. He pinned her sword arm with his forearm, keeping the instrument from being brought into the scuffle. Incredibly, he had dropped his scythe to aid his grappling.
The fool was holding back! He was still trying to take her alive. She would not be as merciful.
Struggling against him, she toggled the transformation of Black Reunion. The sudden shift in weight caused Qrow to let go. Within that small window Delia punched him in the breastbone, driving him back further as he gasped. This freed her up to bring the rifle around. Without time to properly aim, she pointed directly at his shin and fired.
The weapon's proximity to her face caused her ears to ring. The tradeoff was worth the discomfort. He was now fully off her, curled around his still attached leg. His Aura had once again saved him. The crackling light over his skin revealed that the spiritual barrier was about juiced out.
One more good shot would do it. Unfortunately, she was out of bullets, and did not have the time to reload. She would have to end things more personally. Stalking her prey, she stood over his fallen form.
"I'm sorry Qrow." Delia shifted to the machete once more.
"Me too." He glanced down in surrender.
"Goodbye." In anticipation, she closed her eyes and swung down.
The vibration up her arm signified a connection. The deadly dance should have concluded, but something was off. The warm spray that usually followed a killing blow did not accompany the chop. Cracking an eyelid, she found the reason.
Qrow had caught the machete with his empty hands. That was not possible. His Aura could not have withstood the razor's edge. Not after everything they had been through. The hatchet should have sliced through flesh like butter.
Then she looked closer.
The edge was blunted. Her weapon's transformation had paused midway, causing the blade to not fully form. A faint clicking sound indicated that an internal mechanism had caught.
He smiled through red stained teeth. "Sorry about your damn luck."
Before she could try again, the sound of the door to the roof being kicked in distracted her. At the entrance was the deputy from the plaza. She saw Delia standing over Qrow. Immediately her arm came up with a gun.
Delia reacted by coating her torso with Aura. A jolt to her sternum pushed her backwards from the intended victim. The strength of the blast nearly knocked her off her feet. Teetering on the roof's lip, she recovered her stance. Glaring back, the other woman had fallen over. The weapon in her hands apparently had a nasty kick.
Before Delia could punish the one who had rudely interrupted, Qrow involved himself. He used one last bit of energy to push himself up to deliver an elbow to Delia's knee. That last bump was all it took for her to lose her balance and plunge over the brink.
The assassin screamed in rage as she plummeted.
〇-〇-〇
The Branwen had never been more relieved as he was while watching Roscoe bound out into the open air. Another person, an Aura-less woman at that, rescuing his bacon should have been disheartening. However, he could not find it in him to care.
Maybe it was due to the excruciating pain he was experiencing.
She played the part of the cavalry well. The light that silhouetted her as she took in the scene was heaven sent. Like any angel, her first instincts after smiting a demon were to check on the less fortunate.
"Qrow!" She crouched beside him. "You're okay! Don't worry. I put a call out for back-up from our volunteers."
"Make sure she's down." He grunted while trying to ignore his throbbing appendage.
"There's no way-"
"Now!" He roared. They did not have time for this.
Hesitantly, she leaned out over the edge. Her head peaked over for a quick look before retreating. Then it went back out for a longer one. Her neck swiveled from left to right before returning to face him. The way the color fled her face told him everything he needed to know.
"She's gone."
If Cordelia's body was not down there, then she was alive. Free to try again. That was bad news. He really could have gone for a drink right then. His favorite accessory, the flask on his hip, would have to wait.
"We gotta go. Can't stick around here."
"What about our back-up?"
"A dozen civilians can't deal with this. She'll cut through them like tissue paper." He climbed on to shaky legs. "We need to find somewhere more defendable."
Roscoe looked to be struggling. She undoubtedly wanted to stick around for her volunteers to explain what was going on. At the same time, she did not want to leave Qrow's side. Eventually her internal conflict resolved itself.
"My office." She gulped. "We can go there like we originally planned."
She had decided to stay with him. Not that she had much of a choice in the matter. The huntsman was not going to let the deputy out of his sight. Since Roscoe had seen Cordie's face, she was in as much danger as he was. Dividing forces at this point would have been suicidal.
"What about your co-workers?"
"No one should be there at this time of night. Besides, I-I know the place well and there is a weapons cache we can access."
Easily fortifiable? Foreknowledge of the area? More resources? Sounded like a perfect spot to counter the next onslaught. Hopefully, anyways. There was no way that the rustic building could be worse than the rooftop.
"Let's roll." He tried to make his way towards the door.
Tried was the operative word. His limp became more pronounced with each step. As he considered deploying his scythe to act as a walking stick, Roscoe placed the arm on his injured side over her shoulders to allow him to lean on her.
"What if she tracks us down like this?" Qrow protested.
Roscoe flaunted the gun in her other hand. "Then I won't miss."
Author Notes: So, February was rough. The ice storm really threw me off my game of having a consistent schedule. With that nightmare month in the rear view, we should soon be back to a regular release of chapters.
Chapter Next: Delia's Gone