I'm out of chapters to post, so see you guys next week! Lemme respond to some reviews:
guest: Yea, he probably is. And you, sir, are goddamn right.
Mister Cuddleworth: You bet, especially with the content of this chapter right here.
Cooldude101011: This chapter here explains every question about Blake and her relationship with the White Fang. And yea, the simple kind of schedule now that I'm out of chapters to iron out before sending 'em to the world; Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. One of these days I'm going got post.
Blitzkriege37: I must say, will be quite the sad thing when he discovers about Palps betrayal and the death of the Jedi. But, I'll shut, for now, it's a game in the making!
Thanks to everyone that sent their compliments about the history!
Have a nice time reading!
"The first... encouraged him to reflect and to... And..." Anakin clenched his eyes, searching his memory for the right English word, Remnant's common language. His gloved metal finger tapped against the wooden surface restlessly, the frustration of being so imposing as to be unable to read a children's book humbling him, especially with his 'teacher' staring at him expectantly.
A few more seconds of silence passed as the sand scorpion, creature from which her faunus heritage came, observed him quietly. A predatorial, merciless and furtive, poison capable of killing animal hundreds of times its size... She clad in what he could only define as a pink farmer's overalls with pockets full of spreadsheets, miscellaneous papers, and pens painted a funny caricature of predator for him. His joy, however, died as she sharply and clear stated;
"Meditate, m-e-d-i-t-a-t-e."
He snorted loudly. Of course, he'd have forgotten the one thing he tried fervently to do as a Jedi, always the thorn in his side and one of his biggest flaws, as appointed by the Council masters.
"Ironic." He pouted. Ada, smiling softly, caressed his back before speaking in a cheery tone.
"Look on the bright side, Anakin, you managed to read the whole first paragraph... you could say that's a good start! Ba-dum... tis?" Ada Chitin smiled in bewilderment at her own pun, hoping that the blond would laugh at it, the physical manifestation of this desire occurring in the dilation of her eyes. But all that followed was a blush clawing its way up her face as she received an incredulous look from the former Jedi. "Hehe... Sorry." The pained chuckle was accompanied by her scratching her neck's back.
"I feel like an idiot doing this." He grunted, grabbing the cup of tea the librarian had made a few minutes ago. Never his favorite beverage, but she didn't have any coffee in stock, something about leaving her with a headache. "And for taking up your time with my inability—I swear I'm going to repay your kindness."
"Um... If I had a lien for every time you say that, I'd probably have the entire collection of The Black Books on display in the shop windows." Taking the rest of her own tea, she began to collect both cups and the utensils strewn across the table. "I don't need you to pay me, Anakin, I am doing this because it is a pleasure for me helping a friend."
"This humble behavior hardly buys me. It is unfair and selfish, and I should be even ashamed that you think I don't need to pay—"
"Anakin." Her tone lost its normally embarrassed and rigid quality, a more solemn one taking over. "Look, for the last year or so, the tax on faunus-led stores has been going up like crazy with no appearance of slowing down, all on the excuse that the money is going to places that have suffered terrorism at the hands of the White Fang. My store is barely on the blue most months and I haven't bought a new piece of clothing since I was 19. Still, the rain falls on my roof, my food is warm and my bed comforting." She sighed loudly, looking for something beneath the reception counter after leaving the utensils at its top. "You have no home, no apprenticeship, and you work like a slave seven days straight." Finding what she was looking for, the scorpion faunus returned to the desk, a proud smile on her lips.
The Jedi's pained eyes stared at what she had brought with her, a simple bag neatly packaged, soft to touch.
"I know that someday your life will be better, that you will be capable of changing things. Whenever this day comes I'll accept whatever you give me, whether it's a mansion at Atlas or a flower you've grown in thy home... But no such day will happen if you can't read, don't have decent clothing or nutritive meals to keep you alive and going."
She brought the bag closer to him and, frowning, Anakin stared into her red eyes. Suddenly, these last three painful weeks of nearly freezing night after night under the stars and sleeping on hard surfaces, food and water consumption based on what he could grasp in a hurry before he had to rush to work, absolutely massacring twelve-hour shifts, and at the end of the day, when he was inches away from breaking, coming here and having quick reading sessions with this receptionist full of passion for the job and difficulty performing it in equal measure... Suddenly, it wasn't all that torturous.
"...Those are my father's clothes. They must be a little tight and aged, but they should be a good first stepping stone for a better day to come."
Internal anger mixed with the humiliating feeling of charity nearly made him refuse the red-eyed woman's gift right away. He'd rather keep wearing his weary Jedi General garb for the rest of his life than accept such simple alms and aid as if he were a deplorable homeless person.
"I ca... I can't accept it—"
"Oh, you can; you will; you must; you should. Beggars can't choose, and father would love if his clothes were put to good use instead of going mold in the back of my closet." Still, as the anger began to evaporate into nothingness and his brows softened, he remembered that he was actually that; a homeless person. Not a General, or a full-fledged Jedi. A lost man on a strange and unforgiven planet.
No home, no money, no information, and no purpose...
He hated this, he truly did. But his mother would kill him a second time if he refused such good faith consideration—the joke still made him laugh mentally,—because, as she once said to little Ani-too-proud-for-charity; "It takes a slave to know the pain of other slaves."
"I... I don't even know what to say."
"T-Thank you might be a good start, just my opinion." And just like that, the solemnity began to drain out of her.
"...You have my appreciations, then." She smiled at the word-bending joke, a melodious giggle as to wrap everything up. Drowning the feeling of embarrassment at receiving charity deep in his chest, Anakin took the package and tucked it under his arm, already having a knowledge of why she did this now; the clock struck 8 pm, time for him to return to his clearing in the middle of the forest, maybe kill some Grimm in the way. The adrenaline of combat always made it easier for him to sleep.
"Oh, and there's some feed for your little birdie in there too!"
With his frustrations dead, shame overtook him at that little comment of hers. Some time ago Obi-wan Jr. had decided it would be a good idea to pay a visit to the city with him, so the bird spent the whole way from his 'reformed' clearing-a canvas he found in a trash bin stretched over the tree as to provide safety from the rain, not fancy, but useful-with the Force damned bird all slack on his hair. He just noticed it because Blake was staring at the little devil really hard, so much that he decided to hide in Anakin's shirt, Ada holding her laugh all the time.
"You and the brat will never let me forget that, will you?" Now that he spoke, however, Anakin noticed the absence of the customary dark-haired, gold-sharp-eyed girl; most nights she was here at the Flourish and Blotts, reading and performing her brand reclusive behavior. "Where is Blake, by the way?" At the mention of the other regular customer, Ada looked slightly concerned both in her eyes and in her Force signature.
"I don't know, she was here until this morning, but she then got a call and left in a hurry. I tried calling her before you arrived, but no results at all."
These were not abnormal behaviors for a child, and he is sure that Blake hasn't gotten herself into trouble; he recognizes a warrior when he sees one, even the quietest. She can handle herself for all he knows. However, the way Ada worries too much about things—"I don't know, is it better to put the red book in the top window or the bottom window? The title isn't very famous, but the cover is pretty eye-catching, what do I do?!" and to think that turned into an almost fifteen-minute one-sided discussion,—she will tear her hairs out in distress until the reclusive one shows her face again.
"Do you want me to stop by her house to make sure she isn't drowning in drool reading some erotic comic?"
"Anakin!" The woman turned her gaze to him full of reluctant hope mixed with impious disbelief, flushed cheeks.
"You never know."
"That's so rude... But y-you don't have to! Like, you've already had such a hard day and you must be so tired and this could just be a silly concern of mine, surely it's no big deal—" Was it a norm for girls here to storm off with words? He is almost deciphering Ruby's address, worthy of note. Still, he stopped her with a raise of his hand and a confident smile on his lips, just enough to disarm her full automatic-word blaster.
"I swear, it's nothing. Where does she live?"
"Aw, Anakin, you're such a good friend!" Not only did her arms tighten around him in a hug, the scorpion tail also wrapping itself tightly for an extra layer of affection. The feeling was strange, but he'd already been overwhelmed by stronger and much more murderous intent-filled squeezes... It didn't stop being strange, of course. Kinda good, in a way. "Here, I'll let you take my scroll with you, so just send a message to the 'Computer' contact, which is, well, my computer. The location of Blake's house is on my GPS, apartment 630 of a yellow-colored building, none of the windows on the facade have balconies, really easy to find." She pulled out of her back pocket the piece of warm white retractable metal with a jewel in the middle, apparently very weathered. Before he could pick up the primitive datapad, she gave him a seriously predatory look. "And don't you go messing with my other stuff, I'll know if you have!"
A threat. Her marauding eyes had no trace of truth and, too bad for her, Anakin is a master at handling this kind of situation. One brow raised, a jerk smile and, confidently inquire after crossing arms;
"That's right, keep your secrets, it must be something quite... stimulating if you want to keep it under lock and key." Simple as that, the irritation melted away, her eyes bugged out and the ruddy tint took over her entire face square before she could cover it.
"I swear, it's nothing like that! I just... I like a little privacy?" She tried to explain herself, the stutter almost getting in the way of understanding.
"Hey, I'm just kidding, I believe anything you're saying. I swear these eyes of mine won't see no secret of yours." Her blush only increased as he rose from his chair, package under the left arm and the scroll grasped on his metal hand. "See you tomorrow, Ada—try not to go bald with worry, your gorgeous hair surely doesn't deserve it." And with that last tease which had all the demanded result of making the faunus an incandescent red, Anakin made his way out of the Flourish and Blotts, smiling minimally at the whispered 'Take care, you dork', hands stroking her nut-brown hair.
That smile, however, vanished when the wooden door closed with him on the outside. Anakin grumbled loudly as his peeled-off boots became heavy to pull on with the accumulating water on the ground, the heavy rain above hitting him constantly and completely soaking his clothing, washing any signs of warmth. He had bought an umbrella when he heard Patch was entering its rainy season, but during one such day that he was almost sleeping on his feet with tiredness, the damned thing went flying off in the strong winds and he couldn't retrieve it with the Force, being in the middle of a crowd and all.
10 lien thrown away. One-eighth of what he'd made working in three weeks.
Well, water under the bridge now. Cursing himself for not looking where Blake's house is when he was inside and not under a downpour, Anakin took a few moments to understand anything on the holographic screen, at least memorizing the map with remarkable ease, a trait he had gained during the war.
Quickening his pace as much as he could, Anakin spent the next eight minutes in the pouring rain walking throughout winding paths, exchanging and ignoring glances from various sides as he stepped into the cheapest and therefore most dangerous residential district in Patch... a place no 13-year-old should have as a home, said the big hypocrite him, the once little nine-year-old living in the garbage and building the most dangerous and fastest speeders of the galaxy.
He didn't shun a small tricky smile with the nostalgia, one that lost itself as he arrived at Blake's building; peeling yellow, no balconies, people smoking and coming and going from alleys around him, suspicious glances over shoulders constantly. A terrible place for a 13-year-old girl to live.
Spitting on the floor and trying to ignore the disgust rising in his throat, Anakin entered the dimly lit hall of the building just to be graced with a poor minty smell and a claustrophobic room. Two small couches in a corner, musty and old, ceramic floor broken in certain parts and covered in strange stains, some just being laziness of the janitor that couldn't be bothered to air the floor properly... Yet, he does recognize dried blood stains and their shapes and shades since he was six years old, the dark feeling in the Force confirming his suspicions.
Further ahead, a shabby receptionist's desk with many more papers than it should have on it, the receptionist herself looking like she wished to be anywhere but here. Thick eyes and stiff posture, signs of a hard life, faunus heritage as it's noticeable by the long, apportioned tongue hissing silently from time to time, venomous yellow eyes. She noticed him, but ignored his presence and the water hoarding on the ground, preferring her... Fashion. Yes, that's the word. Her fashion magazine.
She also didn't stop him when he went to the elevator and pushed the button to the 6th floor. Before, he had thought this place was for the poor schlubs out of luck, but this little interaction indicated that it was much more.
Either Blake was desperate for housing... or she was not who she claimed to be.
Still, it was none of his business or his responsibility to get involved. It was her life and she was living it the way she wanted to. Surprisingly anyways, as soon as he got out of the elevator and turned the corner, there was the book-starved recluse, high notches of defeat and frustration stamped on her face as she walked towards him with her eyes glued to the floor and blatant uncertainty in the Force that joined many other negative emotions... He didn't fail to notice how she was more secretive in the Force now that he got a sight of her mind unguarded. She is natural at hiding.
And a plus, she looked surprised seconds before locking her gaze with his, whispering almost low enough to pass unnoticed to the Jedi; "Anakin?"
"Hello, Blake. How did you know?" He stood spectating for the answer, but Blake was genuinely surprised to see him there, increasingly tense as well.
"Saw your shoes." It wasn't too quick, nor did it take too long, the tone was perfect. A lie that would have fooled him completely had he not had the Force at his side. "But what are you doing here?" she kept the distance between them and the quick straight-to-the-point mindset indicated many things, some better than others.
Anakin pondered this as he stared at the girl from top to bottom, looking for reflexes that would give away lie and slander, but she was unbelievably good at the art of deception. Taking a friendlier tone but dissonant sharp eyes as to make her slip in her words and body language, he loosely started;
"You ran off early, didn't answer any of Ada's calls." She let out a low 'oh', a lie, but one that accompanied more pain than anything else. "She was very worried, so I've come to check if you were okay." He completed himself and watched Blake's bodily response carefully, using the momentum of her thoughtful mind to get closer to the point that there were only five feet between them.
"I've no doubt about that. Just... tell her it was a tense day for me at work, but that I'm totally fine." The sentence might sound normal, but Anakin had watched Blake thoughtfully these past few weeks as to make sure of something that has plagued his mind ever since he laid eyes on her. She hardly ever let others do something she herself could. To say that this was unusual was an understatement.
"Why don't you speak up yourself?" He crossed his arms, eyes watching the old, scratch-filled doors, the silence not in the lack of people but from the needed consideration of words, broken only by the breeze of fresh air and heavy rain sounds coming from the open window at the left end of the hallway. Blake furrowed her brows and must have taken his words as some kind of accusation, but her dull demeanor kept her from jumping to conclusions... It might be part of her nature, but it was also similar to the behavior of people who serve others; attendants, clerks... soldiers.
"I don't owe you that information, and I'm busy." As a period to the conversation, she was already straight passing the blond towards the elevator. Anakin maintained his silence as he followed her, stopping at a good distance as they both entered. "I'm going to the first floor."
"Same." And then silence arose, neither of them looking at the other. He hid the note of frustration when he couldn't drill his way into her head wordlessly to look for any hints of what she was hiding, her mind too steeled for that, which only raised even bigger questions. However, again, getting involved was not his responsibility. Although, proposing it was. "I'll help you, you know where to find me." And with that quick sentence, the elevator opened on the first floor and they walked out of the building together, she quicker than him as to hide the tension of her muscles.
As soon as they were out and the rain was already soaking them, Blake turned to look at him with uncertainty, a gap in her defenses wide enough for him to cast a Force suggestion that induced need and simple foolhardiness. Her mouth trembled and probably an annoying itch was plaguing her now, all signs that she wanted to say something, but something... or someone was holding her back. Be what is, made her resist the suggestion. Whatever looms inside her was extremely influential over the mind.
"Bye, Anakin..."
Yet, in the moment of weakness post suggestion, the Force managed to catch some words full of hate, pain, and hot vengeance coming from her thoughts: humans... Schnee.
With a frown, Anakin gawked into her golden eyes profoundly, eyes that were once extremely sharp and calculating, now withering under weights of which she knew existed within herself, but which she avoided facing. And as she was about to reach her zenith, Anakin said, calmly;
"Have a nice night, Blake." And below his pressurizing gaze, Blake did what he expected from her; nod quick, turn around, and then run.
And the blond let her, the brunette's speed causing her to disappear from view in a matter of seconds. The Jedi wasted no time standing there in the rain. As soon as he started on his way back 'home', Anakin had centered himself in thought, for there was no way to fight a war without imagination, creativity and insight. Almost all the other Jedi had the third in greater quantities than he did... but none could beat him in creativity and imagination.
Humans. Schnee.
Schnee Dust Company was composed, in their work pyramid, of humans at the top and the lower mass mostly faunus. Faunus hated the company for a myriad of reasons. Blake felt emotions that fit into this 'myriad' concerning the very company, but she was not a faunus. Still, what was driving her to hate the company? And why was she so frustrated and reluctant? His innate curiosity burned like a furnace, screaming at him to pursue her and satiate these unanswered questions, but Anakin decided that would not be the best course of action. Not only was she already too far gone and he had no tracks, but she seemed anything but willing to provide answers, so he would have to force her if he wanted them. A disgusting thought.
So those questions would remain unanswered, just for now.
After giving Blake's message to Ada and his own comments about how the brunette was acting, Anakin went to sleep that night with a screeching sense of apprehension; that something was about to happen... but what?
[This is where]
That same apprehension followed him here, in his work. He passed this morning at the Flourish and Blotts as to hand back the scroll to Ada, who seemed just as, if not more, concerned about Blake than he considering she hasn't got any word from the black-haired one for about an entire day now. His slightly more thoughtful mood was noticed by his co-workers, rapid words and suggestions assuring them that he was all well and, above all, didn't look suspicious He hadn't done anything wrong, 'course, but suspicion hardly dies and it lefts a mark impossible to be cleaned off. Fortunately, they were much busier asking questions full of the usual workplace malice; "Did your girlfriend gave you these clothes?" As Ada had presumed, the clothes were kind of tight, the white sleeveless shirt and black pants with shoulder overalls pinching every bit of his body, his Jedi training being his saving grace as it helped him ignore the itchy feeling. Overall, the new boots were a gift from heaven, he really would have to repay Ada somehow.
Some people asked him why he still wore the black glove, even in a sleeveless shirt. Force Suggestions and smooth-talk born of years alongside Obi-wan and Padmé left the impression in their simple minds that it was just his style.
Anyway, even with plenty of time to think whilst carrying these heavy boxes to their proper places, Anakin couldn't come to as many conclusions as he would have liked, the lack of information Blake left causing more dead ends than anything. He would try to approach her today after work, see if she is more willing to have a talk, and hopefully, won't run the moment he shows up at the library or at her building—
Something alerted his instincts. Danger, imminent. Stopping his pacing and ignoring the other porters passing by him, Anakin looked around for anything that might indicate the slightest amount of threat. Never, ever, he ignores the feeling of danger when it craws up his spine. Things outside the north gate looked normal; the area where the boat captains and dust store owners stood to talk to the administrator and between each other also looked right; Falks watched the people from the control room, a platform over the vast shelves of boxes and the porters—
Why Falks, a veteran porter, was in the control room... of the gates...
The moment his eyes widened, all the gates began to shut simultaneously. The high speed prevented people from getting out or in the warehouse, but still slow enough for anyone below them to get out of the way. With the loud thud of each of the gigantic metal gates hitting the ground, confusion began to spread like fire on straw. The foreman and the administrator looked with barely disguised anger at the control room, their Force signatures flooded with hatred at the sight of the faunus there.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOU FILTHY FAU—"
His sentence was cut short when some of the newest dust containers opened without anyone's interference... And dozens of people dressed in white with masks on their faces came out, swords, axes, firearms and so in their hands.
"Keep quiet!", "Whoever screams, dies!", "Go to the damn corner!" And, with the threat of a weapon's end on their brows, the terrified workers obeyed with wide eyes, the merchants and those who denoted themselves as more important replied with anger, but the silence was forcibly bribed when one of the men in white hit the most vocal with the pommel of his sword, blood splattering on the ground. Anakin didn't take long to notice one of several symbols he had memorized of important organizations in Remnant printed on the backs of their white shirts; White Fang, the snarling red wolf with three claw marks. Former Faunus Rights activists, now terrorists after the change of leadership about a year and a half ago. Swear enemies of the Schnee Dust Company. He hears a lot about them 'round here.
Keeping his cool, nevertheless, Anakin followed with the other workers to a corner where the terrorist group was leading them, a Force Suggestion preventing a White Fang member from grabbing the lightsaber off of his waist, or the 'useless metal cylinder' for the faunus girl; depending on what was going to happen here, he'd better keep his cool... Or lose it. First, more information.
Falks came down from the control room and freely crossed the White Fang members, the men and women in white greeting him with nods and words, he quickly disappearing into the back of the small militia of thirty-five or so members, by what he could count. With a sharp look and gentle turns of the head, as well as searching his mind for the layout of the warehouse, Anakin began to lay out a plan to keep these people safe, storing up his anger at the betrayal of the so friendly and genuine man that welcomed him here.
Not that he's not used to having rats stab him in the back.
"But that's a damn outrage! Do you slags really think you can get away with this terrorism?" One of the wealthier dust merchants shouted, leaning back along with the rest of the people grouped on the east wall, the same wall that made straight contact with an alley full of trash and shady characters... A great escape route. The walls weren't very sturdy either.
"Shut up, you human bastard!" One of the White Fang holding the hostages shouted, his rifle aiming at the merchant's eyes. "That's not even remotely terrorism, that's karmic justice! Face it!"
Anakin's anger built high at these words so full of heart from the masked man. Order was never done with fear, much less as a device of peace, that was a lesson Palpatine taught him shortly after the Clone Wars began. Inducing fear worked the same way as a rubber band circling a sandwich; you can tighten the rubber band all you want, the sides will slip off no matter what you do to stop them. He ignored the wave of sadness and longing he felt for the kindly old man, focusing on the importance of his mission; information.
The fruitless back and forth among the angry man and the fanatic continued, the Jedi resorting to use the Force to actually hear the important conversations of the White Fang, as well as follow their movements... And when he finally started to understand their plans for this place, his lungs with hot air and the dots swiftly connected; explosives.
It was not something surprising of the White Fang. In the past year, since the change in leadership, terrorist acts with the application of heavy equipment had become almost the norm, even more so when the target is the Schee Dust Corporation... They intended to blow up this warehouse to display a point, and no doubt with everyone inside, be these traitors that didn't side with them or the filthy humans. He has a clear view of the situation now.
And his anger was physical.
It was these people who made faunus like Ada have to live a life of survival and no indulgence; the kind of psychos who mask revenge with the pursuit of a cause. No matter how hard you squeeze, eventually, the sides will slip away. No matter how much respect you're earning from the blood you spill and the fire you raise, it won't be long before a counterattack of the same proportion or worse happens. And, Palpatine holding an expression of pain and sorrow, even guilt, once taught him; "all that is left then is wage a pointless war."
It is his job as a Jedi to prevent wars.
Even after death.
Closing his eyes, Anakin started to concentrate. The fatigue was gone, the doubts began to fade, he could hear his heart rapidly pumping blood through his system, the adrenaline forcing its way through his arteries and mixing with the liquid of life inside him to make his muscles tight and perception deadly. He was ready.
Almost in slow motion, Anakin stood, eyes from both sides of the spectrum turning to him with various feelings that he easily ignored, all his focus on the mission; save lives.
And the power flowed.
His arms were thrown forward and the White Fang members that held them there with their weapons' ends on their foreheads were thrown back like stringless dolls, their weapons sliding across the floor. He didn't wait for the enemy, already turning to the not-so-sturdy metal wall with a change of axis on his right foot, the lightsaber traveled the air into his metal hand at a dizzying speed, his fleshy hand thrown forward for the liberation of a potent Force Push that twisted alloys and plates, the ground quaking face the power being exerted to make such a wall tear apart and thus create an opening the size and width of a bus' front.
And at the top of his lungs, Anakin shouted;
"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"
The shout drew looks of disbelief and surprise, but soon enough the pack mentality came from both sides, panicked screams from the workers, blasts of dust crossing the air, courtesy of the White Fang, a threat that Anakin was already prepared for as he pulled one of the huge pieces of metal from the wall with the Force, raising it as a barrier for the fleeing people and himself, metallic sounds echoing throughout the warehouse as the piece of metal was harassed by gunfire. The White Fang was also shouting at each other, but the Jedi focused on the words of the Force, words that indicated where his enemies were coming from.
When a White Fang bypassed the metal and came toward him with an ax in his hand and eyes of fury, Anakin was already ready with a tremendous Force Push in his sleeve, the man screaming as his back was pressed on the metal wall, enough horsepower behind the attack as to hurl the man and the metal itself toward the mass of White Fang.
They watched in astonishment as the one who once was a simple worker began to run toward them, the lack of anyone behind him being all the information he needed at that moment. Lives are saved... Now, the enemy must be taken care of.
For as the shots rained down on him again, the blue blade came to life.
The first shot was a spin; the second a hammering motion, and when the third shot was deflected back to the White Fang who sent it, a shower of blood off the hole that the bullet hit, Anakin had closed the distance with one of the faunus holding a curved sword in his hand. Startled, the man attempted an attack full of desperation, but the lightsaber not only parried his blade but made it into two melting pieces, a quick step forward followed by a guillotine and the faunus's right hand hit the ground flat, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. And just like that, the flow of battle came to him.
Another sword tried to pierce him in the back, but his lightsaber defended his rear as if he were sheathing a sword, the ordinary metal molting under the immense heat. Dodging downward a dust shot, Anakin bent the knees and crawled his foot forward, the blade following every movement with grace, purpose, and mercy, both legs of the molted sword faunus torn off in a single movement, already with the next one under his scope, the Jedi quick to dodge his neck away from the man's vertical cut, the sword of light stabbing his shoulder and melting any tendon in there, leaving his arm completely useless.
A mere six seconds and, in screams and tears of pain, four faunus were regretting their life choices. But no, no, it was still a long way to go. Anakin's anger was at a peak and the adrenaline was pumping like a piston inside him. He was not going to stop anytime soon.
[The fun begins]
Blake hated that.
She made it vocal weeks ago before she was sent to Patch to inspect and spy the largest of the Schee Dust Company's warehouses at the tiny island. An expert at what she does, it only took a couple of days to encounter a faunus fed up with the SDC with a desire for change, Falks' job being simple as the click of some buttons. Then to pick the day and time when things were busiest and the shelves most full. The raid was going to cost SDC millions and would be another milestone of why faunus should be respected, or that's what Adam promised her would happen.
In the end, it was a glorified scout mission and the free time she had was spent reading at a bookstore near the place White Fang got her. She even made a friend there.
Today, she wished she had never set foot in that bookstore, all because of a swirling blue flash of light, an extremely overpowered Semblance to make sense of why Adam's soldiers were screaming lying on the floor.
If she had never set foot in that bookstore, killing Anakin Skywalker would have been an easy thing now. Catch him in the blind spot and you're done.
But Anakin Skywalker was a man who admitted to a faunus that he couldn't read. Though tired from a torturous day under the Schee Dust Company whip, he would come to that bookstore and learn how to read and write from the faunus librarian. There was no hesitation around her, or just politely ignoring or direct discrimination, as all other humans do... He would sit there with her, talk, joke, and even engage Blake if she felt comfortable, something he always seemed to know.
She hated that the White Fang has become; she hates killing, and above all, she hates killing a human who had accepted a faunus for what they are. But these are Adam's orders... They must signify something, they must change the world for the better.
Holding in tight to Gambol Shroud, she kneeled as to achieve as much velocity as possible with her enhanced acceleration and bolt precision, so this would end the quickest the better. So, just as her cat eyes got the view of the finest opening, she lunged at him as swift as the wind, a mask hiding her face and a hood her hair, faunus ears exposed to the world.
Her heart, however, stopped when Anakin's sword of light hovered in a flash supernaturally fast over to his back and met her own sword, like he just had seen the future, her aura tanking an electrifying current as the sword brushed against Anakin's blade. Efficient as if his nature derived from swinging that weapon, he parried Gambol Shroud with a mighty swing away, Blake's aura draining fast, her survival instinct hitting as she saw the blue eyes filled with a cold resolution turning to her, no hesitation or preoccupation, a firm step and sword preparing a powerful guillotine—
Still, even as Anakin had the sword of light raised and an advantage over her, the gleam in his eyes was what she hated above everything else: a gleam of recognition. Only her faunus heritage made her hear the single word spoken under his breath; "Blake?..."
He lost notion as he, somehow, recognize her, leaving his chest all open to a precise and lethal blow, Gambol Shroud's curved blade-pistol penetrating hard into his ribs, meeting not the slightest resistance expected from Aura as strands of blood came in rapid succession, Blake utterly surprised with the lack of Aura. Anakin contorted his face as the scorching pain transverse his body, his metal hand flying out and pulling Blake's sword out with a burst of blood, the cat faunus too startled by the identification in the blond's eyes to even try to stop him.
With a flick of his hand, Blake was sent soaring by an invisible force, rolling across the floor with much more shock than actual pain.
Pain, however, made Anakin stumble back, a hardship to maintain himself standing there on his feet as one hand pressurized the bloody hole and a face of agony and rage made him look like a wounded, dangerous beast. Many of the White Fang were incapacitated, but many more of them were pointing their weapons and coming running toward him, a war cry full of vigor as they saw that human enemy, the sudden monster that could not be touched, bleeding full cups by the minute.
Yet, Anakin wouldn't be the best duellist of the galaxy if a small flesh wound could stop him... And he was extremely irate.
Holding his lightsaber with both hands and leaving the piercing open wound susceptible to the world, Anakin advanced towards two White Fang who were coming towards him, one holding a gigantic sword and the other one two cleavers, others clearing vision for the marksmen to shot at him. The first tried a hammering move and, without difficulty, Anakin dodged to the side, the lightsaber already following the inertia of a 180° right foot axis change directly slicing right into the man's neck, the head flying out of the body with the characteristic smell of burning flesh. The woman with both cleavers didn't even have time to pale at the new development, the saber stabbing into her chest and melting her heart away, the Jedi giving a few steps forward whilst penetrating the plasma beam until the emitter was about inches from touching the burnt flesh, a spinning defending five shots in rapid sequence and both parts of her body fell flat on the ground.
Anakin never liked killing. But he was too, too angry to care right now.
His predatory eyes watched as fast as the Force warned him, the lightsaber deflecting bullets with a reduced but not obvious speed. The heat of battle was growing intensely uncomfortable by the time his blood splattered across the floor like paint, as were the bodies of the White Fang who still tried to challenge him in close combat.
It didn't help that as soon as he went to defend a diagonal blow, the wound burned and his feet almost intertwined, giving enough ground for the attacker to kick him on the belly, a poor choice when the lightsaber split his entire leg to the very beginning of his femur in two, another one for the list of the screaming and crying. Anakin, however, was fighting for ounces of air after the blow.
Sweating like he was under rain, eyes full of murderous injury, and white shirt quenched in blood, Anakin observed as the melee attackers finally started to hesitate their advances, switching tactics to rain fire on him. Intelligent, but wouldn't work on him... Expect it did work. His vision was getting blurred, legs weak and sensation numbed, most of the defense being made by the Force and pure fighting instincts.
In such a state, the three others that were about to attack him on his back went unnoticed, the Force alerting too late to defend the attacks. But, out of nowhere, shots started flooding down from the hole he'd created on the wall for the workers to escape, his lightsaber holding defense against one of the blades that would hit him if the woman hadn't got shot in the head. His attackers backed off, one of them torn apart by a bunch of dust pellets. The law enforcement started to raid the warehouse, lines of shields protecting them from dust and professional aim and overwhelming force diminishing the White Fang numbers within seconds. Anakin felt a sudden nostalgia of days scenarios like this happen every once in a while, a silly smile burning in his pale face.
Force, he misses the clones.
Before, the fight was fair for the White Fang; only one Jedi and nearly five dozen of them, but with the arrival of the police things turned a little better on Anakin's side, a barrage of shots driving the terrorists to rupture. With hell loose around him, a brave medic rushed over to him, a policeman clothed in heavy armor and a shield in hands following her, together they supported him back to safety, a quick and heart-pounding pace. The Jedi locked eyes with Blake at the distance, the now faunus watching him from the top of the warehouse, an open window right in front of her. For some reason, he could tell exactly where her Force signature was without even searching for it.
Interesting.
They held gazes for another second before Blake ran off.
"—Keep awake, sir! Listen to the sound of my voice..." The woman leading him behind the police shields with her heart at the top of her throat screamed fervently. Was he fainting? He hadn't even noticed it as well as the tip of the lightsaber making a path of destruction in the ground, drops of his blood mimicking the black, smoking trace. The sword was only halted of its trail of destruction when some other intrepid medic took it from Anakin's metal hand, the lack of pressure on the handle automatically turning the weapon off.
And as soon as Anakin hit his head on the stretcher's pillow, the world went black and no sound disturbed him.
"This will be the day" is a delight to listen to while writing battle scenes, just so good. The story is starting to take off, as Anakin develops his thoughts about the SDC and the current state of the White Fang and others characters. Hope to see you next time.
A preview of the next chapter: "ANAK-IIIIIIIIIINNNNN!... hi!"