LIII. The Other Day I Met a Bear
Twenty-two minutes elapsed before Private Cooke reappeared. Billy Graves had eagerly waited for him beside a cliff facing the great river. As soon as the whiskered chef returned, Davies joined them for the update.
"How many are inside?"
"Two dozen or so." Cooke dutifully reported while sulking.
As the smallest of them, he had been the best suited for the sneaking duty. That he was also a rodent faunus had been a coincidence. No stereotyping had taken place, no matter how much his partner had laughed.
"Weapons?"
"Mostly assault rifles, but I saw a few crates of Dust as well."
The young captain considered the information. Sheriff Mae, at Ms. Lee's request, had charged Billy's team with surveying the sector. The group had done as instructed before happening upon a surprise; Wendeval's thugs had occupied Fort Bergeron.
The river fortress had been a regular haunt for the militia since before Billy was born. It was almost as sacred as the walls of Tocsin. Needless to say, they had all become upset at the discovery of squatters.
"How about a way in? Any quiet entrances we might take advantage of?"
"None that I saw, unless you want to swim…"
"Swim, eh?"
There was a certain appeal to the idea. Images of a swashbuckling raid danced around Billy's imagination. Parallels to the kind of daring action that the old folks used to tell him while growing up were difficult to ignore.
"What are you thinking, Billy-boy?" Davies asked warily, not liking the way his superior was grinning.
"I'm thinking we could take them."
"I agree. Once Kohl returns with our commando friends and the Specialist."
The senior captain had departed moments before Cooke. Their radio had not been working, so Kohl had gone to find a clearer spot to contact the other members of the task force. While he had not designated Billy as being in charge in his absence, they all knew it was implied.
"Why wait when we can do it?"
There was a slight pause as the two processed his proposal. They both meaningfully glanced at each other in verbless conversation. Then they were both looking at him as though he were crazy.
Whiskers twitched. "Us three? Alone!?"
"You heard the part about how there are twenty well-armed people in there, right?" Davies added.
"Minimum!"
"Fellas! Don't you see that this is our moment to shine!"
Ms. Lee had told him this night might provide an opportunity to prove his worth. This was that chance. Like something out of the history books, there was a human controlled fort for him to conquer. He could be just like the soldiers who fought in the liberation wars.
"More like our moment to die!"
"What makes you so sure we could do this alone?" Davies asked curiously.
"These aren't trained soldiers. They are conscripts. Weekend warriors. Remember what happened the last time we faced an armed mob like this?"
Billy did. Vividly.
They had been surrounded at the Battle at the Crossroads. Despite the disadvantage, his party had held their own. The most they had suffered were flesh wounds and bruises. If Cora had not ended the fight early, the militia would have won the day.
This time, the element of surprise would be on their side. That, along with better training and the ability to see in the dark, gave them an outsized edge. A mismatch like this would have only been made better if Schaffer and Laz had been present to complete the tiger team.
Davies' tail slapped the ground, indicating he had bought in. "We can take them."
"You two are nuts!"
"It'll be easy." Billy soothed the nonbeliever. "We sneak in, take a few captives, and the rest should fold like cheap suits."
"'Should' being the operative word…"
"C'mon man. Where's your sense of adventure?"
Fluttering about, Cooke chewed his lip. He knew they were both sold on the idea. Could see the determination in their eyes. Outnumbered, and not wanting to let his brothers-in-arms down, he agreed to take part.
They hastily packed their supplies and descended the cliff. At the riverbank, they crept along with only moonlight to guide them. To avoid detection, Cooke led them along the path he had taken. Winding through the underbrush, Fort Bergeron came into view.
Calling it a 'fort' afforded too much credit. The water-straddled structure consisted of a decrepit two-tier stone octagon with a hollow center for storing supplies. Part of the east side had begun to sink due to erosion. Metal plates, meant to reinforce the crumbling walls, did little more than hold the building together.
What the fort did provide was a height advantage. On top, an observer could see both sides of the inlet. Many thought the first settlers of Vale had built it to serve as a warning station for Grimm.
Renovations had been started by the militia decades prior so that the fort could serve that purpose again. While Bergeron technically did not belong to anyone, Billy was irritated that a bunch of Relay hicks had moved in. They had never shown interest before the faunus had tried to make it habitable. Now they crawled all over her in ownership.
Such arrogance could not be allowed to stand.
"Low profile people. We don't want them seeing us coming."
His troops agreed. They slunk along the shadows, masking their presence in the natural shifts of the greenery. The fort grew until they were within spitting distance of the cleared walkway to the main keep.
Cooke held his hand up for attention. "There is an aqueduct to the side. Wading through will wet our bottoms, but we will be in before they realize it."
To get to the waterway, they would have to brave the cleared land under the watch of the tower. If they were sighted, the whole fort would go on alert. The group waited until a cloud blotted out the moon before they made their move.
As the trio took its first steps into the open, they all watched the stone castle. The lack of an immediate hue and cry was favorable to their side. Each step added to their momentum and pile of confidence.
Then it all came undone.
A whining noise filled the air. Starting with a low pitch, it grew steadily in intensity. The group of faunus paused their movements out of caution. Understanding dawned upon them all simultaneously.
"Incoming!"
Cooke and Davies shielded behind an outhouse while Billy crouched by a cluster of logs. A mortar shell detonated far behind them. Instead of fire, a sheet of frozen water coated the canopy they had emerged from.
"Ice Dust! They are using the good stuff on us, boys." Davies crowed.
"Yippee…" Cooke deadpanned before coughing.
Billy was just as enthused by the situation. Their battle plan was torn up before beginning. He slyly peeked over the lumber arrangement in the direction from which the shell had come. Humans were shouting and pointing in their direction.
Strangely, not directly at them. A little farther off.
"Do they see us or not?" Billy asked as more live ordnance was fired over their heads.
The answer became apparent as they watched on. Intense flashes disrupted their night vision, but not before they made out the actual target. Nightmarish figures moved amongst the darkness. As if to kill all doubt, a pair of black and white serpentine heads poked out before retreating once more.
Grimm. Enough to make the branches look alive. That was what the humans were trying to stave off. Billy had just led his men into a siege.
"What do we do!?" Cooke asked in a panic.
The other militiaman was only slightly more composed. His rifle swung around in a semi-circle, unsure of what to shoot at, if anything. The Grimm had not noticed them, being too distracted by the Dust bombs. That would change once they went on the offensive.
Billy's mouth clamped shut. He was unsure of what to do. They could not return to the forest now that they knew for sure monsters were inhabiting it.
"Fall back!" A commanding voice carried over the water. "To me! To me!"
Captain Kohl was hauling his way up the riverside towards them. Without a need to sneak anymore, the three were quick to comply. They met him near the watercourse.
A pair of wolves had brazenly followed but they were rapidly brought down by a combined volley from the quartet. The older man was winded, having run from one end of the fight to the other. That was not nearly enough to keep him from berating them.
"You were supposed to be scouting!" Kohl yelled over the sound of small arms discharging. "What happened?"
"We thought we saw an opening!"
"The opening of a bear trap, maybe!" He snarled while picking off a juvenile flying Grimm that was dive-bombing. "We need to get elevated. Here's hoping those inside the fort aren't too picky about accepting help at the moment."
As it turned out, they were not. Not a soul blocked their entrance or acknowledged them as they climbed the stairs. Every person they met seemed to be operating on autopilot, moving about despondently.
On the ramparts, they saw more of the same. Humans were loading grenades as fast as they could lob them into the forest. Their tactics, to Billy's estimation, began with blind fire and ended with a prayer.
Kohl noticed as well. Wanting to gain their attention, he stood upon a block to tower above them. This, along with the uniform, seemed to break the trance they were under. The fort went quiet.
"Tocsin militia, Captain Kohler." He formally introduced himself. "We came to offer our assistance. Who is in charge?"
The crowd looked about, cluelessly, before one of them piped up. "Griff was giving us orders, but we haven't seen him since this afternoon."
"No one has stepped up since?" Heads shook side to side. "Alright. I will assume command. Any objections?"
Surprisingly, there were none. They all looked relieved. Glad, even, to have someone who sounded like they knew what they were doing.
A reminder of the odds they were facing soon broke the temporary calm. The Grimm had begun to mobilize. A trickle of black began to pour out of the tree line and towards the fort. Some of the grenadiers resumed their bombardment.
"Conserve fire! We don't know how long we will need to hold out!" Kohl boomed to bring order. "Davies! Spread the word. Cooke, I need an ammo count. Graves, we are going to organize a firing line. I need every able body ready!"
Orders received, the survivors went about making it a reality. Billy was with Kohl immediately. A queue had already begun to form, waiting for placement.
Together, the two captains quickly organized three lines. The first to fire, a second on standby for reloading, and a third to carry supplies. Although a second nature tactic to the militia, the humans needed a bit more coaching.
"If you want to live to see the morning, form up!" Billy yelled at a woman who kept dropping cartridges.
Despite the missteps, they were succeeding. The concentrated fire cut down the Grimm that had been gathering near the base. A zone was being established to keep the horde from advancing further.
They were winning, or at least keeping a favorable status quo. Such a ruckus would be noticeable. They just had to buy time for their heavy hitters to arrive. Success was breathing optimism into the squad.
Then things began to fall apart.
The largest arachnid Billy had ever seen scuttled forward. Eight legs, numerous eyes, and a barbed tail as tall as the fort itself shimmied in anticipation. The creature hissed and charged the front line.
In its hurry, multiple wolves were swatted away or crushed. There was no hint of remorse if it had noticed the havoc sewn amongst its kin at all. The creature was too preoccupied with causing destruction.
"Deathstalker…" The former commander whispered before hollering. "An elder Grimm! Concentrate everything we have on it!"
No one had to be told twice. All guns were directed at the scuttling embodiment of doom. Artillery exploded around the monster as it bore down on them. While their armament did cause exterior damage, the sheer bulk made any blows insignificant.
"Brace yourselves!"
On cue, the deathstalker collided with the wall.
〇-〇-〇
The Tocsin brooks, contrary to expectations, was a singular river. Apparently, the name had been chosen during a string of drought years. Back then there had been several smaller streams that only tangentially touched.
These days the aquifers were full, allowing a large body of water to cut a path across Vale. On one side lay naturally irrigated farmland that helped keep the kingdom fed. On the other was Taiyang Xiao Long, listening to Yellow Bois d'Arc explain this as they were jogging along the bank.
"Why do I need to know any of that?"
"Knowledge is power?" Yellow offered as Tai sighed.
Normally he would have tried to be more sociable. Concern for his eldest daughter had drained his capacity for chit-chat. He had only grown more irritable the further they ran.
When they reached a bend in the river, Tai had to ask. "Are we near where Yang was last seen?"
"Yes. She was running towards this landmark. Assuming a linear direction, we should intersect with her path."
Not a fan of assumptions, Tai gave his opinion. "We should split up."
"You fork left. I go right?"
"Works for me." Tai sprinted away.
"Contact me if you find something." Yellow called after him. "I'll do the same."
Tai waved back with casual consideration. Glad to be alone again, he dived into the vegetation. Back into his element.
In his working days, he had enjoyed the art of tracking. While others balked at those types of missions, as they could take weeks to complete, he found them enjoyable. A break from the standard drop-in-and-destroy fare did wonders for his mood.
Better still were assignments that allowed him to roam the woodlands. They reminded him of when he used to scavenge with his father. Just the two of them and any pups they were raising to fight Grimm.
Part of the reason he had wanted to move to Patch, besides cheaper land, had been to recapture those feelings. Tai had believed he could create happy memories for his own children. Then life had put those plans on hold.
Depending on what happened next, he may never get the chance to follow through.
Determined to not let that happen, he rapidly moved through the foliage. His senses became aware of his surroundings, categorizing every sight and sound. Processing these inputs, he cleared swaths of trees.
It was many minutes into his frantic hunt that he heard something that did not belong. There were two voices. One was small and meek. Childlike.
Confident in his deductions, Tai rushed forward. Past the vines and the gnats that flew in the air, he stumbled into a clearing. At the opposite end of a meadow was who he had been searching for. The scene angered as much as relieved him.
Deputy Drwg was fuming while clinging to the base of a tree. "I've had enough of your games! Come down from there!"
"No!" Yang sat on a low branch, kicking at him. "Go away!"
He reached for her ankle. She kicked again. The side of her boot connected with his cheek.
"Why you little-"
"Hey!" Tai announced his arrival.
They both went still to regard him. Yang looked at her father with a radiant grin. Drwg, meanwhile, became even more agitated. Before anyone could stop him, he latched on to her leg and tugged.
She tumbled onto the ground. Drwg was on her immediately, dragging her up against his chest. Yang scraped at his forearm before a gun was pressed to her head.
Managing to only cross the field to come within a car's length of them, Tai hit the brakes. Cursing his slowness, he glared as his daughter was threatened in front of him. The deputy showed teeth.
"Look who's here. Guess the doctor grew a conscience."
Tai ignored Drwg and checked on Yang. She looked exhausted. Her hair had come free from the pigtails and frizzly fluttered around. Grime marred her face, as though she had returned home from an intense day of combat practice.
Next, he keenly assessed the other man. Drwg was also disheveled. A clear mask covered his bruised-up face. Tai had his own smile, correctly guessing that he had caused the shiner and broken nose.
"What's so funny?" Drwg nasally asked. "Do I look like a joke to you? Am I a clown? You won't be laughing when I splatter her brains on the grass!"
Yang seethed as the barrel was pressed into her temple. She looked more annoyed at having been caught than scared. Drwg's stance was loose. The grip on the gun was too light. The girl had to have known this.
If she were more experienced, she could have disarmed him. As only a first year in Signal, though, she did not know how to take advantage of those weaknesses. All she could do was try to keep quiet and hope her father could figure a way out of this predicament.
"Got nothing to say? Your boy, Qrow, could never stop talking. Makes sense that he'd shack up with a selective mute."
The retired huntsman went through several rescue scenarios in his head. Many were considered. Most were thrown out as soon as he thought them through.
Hypothetically, overpowering Drwg was the easy part. The problem kept being Yang and the deputy's itchy trigger finger. There was no doubt he would follow through on the threat if Tai made any sudden movements.
"You think you're better than me? Is that it?"
Taiyang had to find a way to get the gun off her. A split second was all he needed. Just long enough to finish caving in the bucked-toothed man's skull.
Though that was no simple task. Tai did not have a means of causing a distraction at the ready. Drwg, likewise, had no ready way of escape. His leverage remained with the blonde he had under the gun.
The uneasy standoff would continue until the complexion of the situation changed.
"Huh!? Answer me!"
His last words carried far and wide. Tai tensed. He had a feeling that his moment was coming. Then another voice threw a wrench into the proceedings.
"Dude, will you stop yelling in my ear?"
The gunman's eyes flicked down to the girl in his hands. "What was that?"
"I said, stop screaming so much. Dad isn't that far away."
Drwg chuckled. "At least someone has guts around here."
"And it's clearly not you." Tai made a subtle gesture for her to not provoke him. If Yang saw, she misinterpreted the meaning. "Oh, you're such a big man. Does beating up on defenseless women make you feel strong? You're pathetic."
"Me? I'm pathetic?" He asked incredulously. "You were curled up in a ball not ten minutes ago, pleading for mercy."
"Yeah. Anyone would beg after having to listen to you whine about your job." She then put on a falsetto voice. "I should have gotten that promotion!"
"Quiet."
"Why won't the boss man notice me?"
"Shut up."
"If only I were not such a disappointment. Oh well. Better luck next time!"
Pushed too far, he pistol whipped her. Hard. Aura flared as Yang began to glow.
She screamed as a flame enveloped her figure. Drwg yelped and pulled away from the surprise kindling. He flailed around, trying to put out the blaze that had spread to his own clothing. Yang collapsed to one knee.
Desire for revenge forgotten, Tai dashed to her. Whatever had caused the ignition had faded but the aftermath surely remained. Panicking, he tried to recall how to treat extensive burns in the field. That knowledge would be needed more than ever.
Or not.
As he squatted protectively over her, he found that she was unblemished. Her clothes were also immaculate. Even the scuffs he had noticed earlier were miraculously washed away. Or more accurately, burned away.
She looked at him with blood red eyes. "My Semblance is so cool!"
Before he could sort out the meaning of that peculiar statement, there was a shuffling behind them. Tai glanced over his shoulder before swearing under his breath. Drwg was back.
Unlike Yang, he was a smoking mess. His grey uniform was scorched up the entire right side of his body. Bits of flesh that poked out showed beat colored skin. The arm that had held her was especially crispy and appeared near useless.
Unfortunately, his gun arm was still operational. Of which, he had it locked squarely at the two of them. There was a manic glint to his eyes. The deputy no longer cared about hostages or escape. He wanted to kill.
Caught flat footed, Tai did the first thing he could think of. He enveloped Yang in a hug so that every inch of her was covered. She gasped. Knowing what he was doing, she yelled for him to run. To hide. To not sit there and take what was about to be dished out.
He held resolute. With every ounce of Aura he could muster coating his back, he would be a living shield. Nothing would get through. There he waited, with gritted teeth.
Instead of the pops of a discharged weapon, there was a hollow rattle followed by a thud.
Tai stayed as he was for a few seconds longer. After hearing a groan, he became confused. Shifting around, he soon found the reason why a shot had not been fired.
Drwg was face down in the dirt. Yellow was standing over him. His still sheathed sword hung over his left shoulder, as if swung like a bat. He looked down upon his foe, stunned at what he had accomplished.
"I'm starting to see the appeal of violence..." He mumbled before snapping out of his stupor. "What's y'all's status?"
"Alive. Yang?"
"I-I'm fine."
"Thank goodness." Yellow began to bind Drwg similarly to their previous prisoners. "Heard him ranting and snuck around while he was distracted. Got here in the nick of time, eh?"
Taiyang hummed. Any later, and he would have had to tank a full clip. While confident in his Aura, as it was the one part of him that would not atrophy, he did not want to take the damage if avoidable. Especially with Yang in harm's way.
Suddenly, he felt much worse about ditching Yellow. This was the second time he had saved him from probable harm. Tai would need to remember to repay the favor.
The girl tugged on his shirt. "Dad. They still have Ruby..."
"I know, baby." He kissed the top of her head. "Your uncle will get her back."
Yang nodded wordlessly. She had a lot of confidence in Qrow. Tai did too, but he could not stop his worry. His thoughts wandered. Ruby was still out there, likely afraid and without her family. Not for long, if he had anything to say on the matter.
Tai spoke to Yellow. "Is there somewhere safe we can take her?"
"The overlook is probably the most secure spot this side of Tocsin."
"Fine. Let's hurry over and then I can catch up with Qrow." He then lowered his gaze to Yang again. "Sweety, I need to stay alert as we travel. Walk beside Mr. Bois d'Arc and, whatever happens, stick with him."
Physically separating from Yang so soon after finding her felt wrong. Spending so much of his energy on getting her back made the process emotionally painful. At least this time, the act was by his choice.
Yang felt similarly. Even knowing why they had to part, she did not want to let go of Tai. The last time they had separated played across her face. With a light push, and not wanting to delay Ruby's rescue, she walked over to her latest guardian.
"Do we have to take him with us?" She asked Yellow while pointing at the knocked-out man.
"As much as I would like to leave Mal to the wolves, we need to be better than that. We're the good guys, yeah?" Yang frowned as he sat her tormentor upright. "Tell you what, you can help me keep him in line."
She perked up at the suggestion. "Really?"
"I will give you the first crack at handing out discipline."
She brightened with gleeful enthusiasm. To demonstrate how she would use her newfound responsibility, she punted Dwrg in the stomach. He grunted pitifully, though was not woken from his injury induced daze.
"Uh… Wait for him to step out of line before doing that."
"Sorry."
She did not seem to be sorry. Tai thought he should admonish her. Then there was a phantom tinge in his own gut. He decided to let it slide.
〇-〇-〇
Wendeval inhaled while steadily regaining awareness. Cold silicon lay beneath him. His mouth was dry, except for a string of saliva that extended out from his lips. Haze settled, he sat up and wiped away the drool.
It took a while for him to remember where he was. Raw odors of machine grease mixed with earth jogged a memory. Mines. Dust. Drillers. He was in the processing center.
His head throbbed. Touching the afflicted area on his scalp, he winced. The throw from the rogue had knocked him for a loop. He might have had a concussion if his sudden photosensitivity was any indication.
Branwen was nowhere to be seen. He had straight up vanished. A disturbing concept.
Reflecting on what had occurred, the outgoing sheriff would admit that he had let his temper get the best of him. Rash decisions had been made.
After capturing Mr. Xiao Long, he had become overconfident. To expect Branwen to be intimidated by threats had been a foolish notion. Dropping his progeny down the chute was always going to lead to violence. To be fair, they needed to move the night along, and the huntsman was not co-operating.
And Wendeval had survived. That meant he was still in the game.
After visually inspecting every inch of the space, his eyes settled on the Dust bin. Wendeval's heart sped up. He scrambled off the trolley and over to the drop point. Placing his head over the open shaft, he listened.
It was distant. Muted. But distinct.
Rumbles echoed up. Howls would start only to be snuffed out. The girl that had been released would not have been able to combat the Grimm, nor would any regular person. A huntsman was down there.
"The fool fell for it." Wendeval whispered.
This had been the desired result. Getting Branwen down the chute, as a corpse or through force, had been the plan from the beginning. The one complication was that Wendeval had never thought he would go willingly.
It turned out the bandit loved his children. Or he assumed that a horde of Grimm was no trouble. If the sounds below were indicative of his prowess, then perhaps he had a reason to be confident.
Regardless, Branwen was right where Wendeval wanted him. Now he only needed to execute the winning play. His attention drifted to a table. On top was a shot exploder.
Many man hours had been spent to make this possible. Wendeval had the load bearers above the lower caverns rigged with explosives. A single push on the plunger would destroy the support structure, causing tons of bedrock to shift and crush Branwen.
Surviving the initial cave-in was possible but would eventually lead to the same end. No one would be able to rescue him before he ran out of food, water, and air. Thus, the huntsman problem would be solved.
Buried alive. A fitting end to a frustrating rival. The only way to improve the result would have been for Wendeval to be able to watch the life be crushed out of his greatest enemy. Too bad he would have to settle for listening.
He limped his way over to enact the master stroke. Branwen's demise was at hand. For the first time in his life, he wanted to dance and sing for this joyous occasion.
Then the celebration was cut short.
"Hold it right there." A woman ordered.
The unexpected order nearly caused him to enter cardiac arrest. He knew the voice. Seeking out the speaker, he found them to his left. To his great annoyance, his suspicions were proven true.
From beyond the light's touch, Cyan Roscoe stood. Cowboy hat tilted downward, she approached. When he lurched forward, her hand flew to her holster. His instinctively fled from his own to not give her an excuse.
"You are under arrest, Mr. Wendeval."
His shock was replaced with righteous anger. "That's Mayor Wendeval!"
"I don't remember any elections taking place."
"The Council has appointed me steward." He fibbed slightly, as the paperwork had not arrived yet. "You do not have the authority to hold me, citizen. Last time I checked, you were stripped of your badge."
Wendeval waited for her to back down. She was a well-known stickler for the rules. He just needed her to hesitate long enough for him to trigger the detonator.
To his frustration, she did not waver.
"We will sort out the particulars later. I'm taking you in."
Right when everything had come together, she had to appear. In some ways it was fitting. Once more, a person named Roscoe was a roadblock.
"On what charges?"
"Too many to list. Let's start with conspiracy to commit murder and work our way down."
He sucked in a breath. "That is a serious allegation."
"And I'll prove it too. Between pressuring Dr. Skepsis and under-the-table dealings with the likes of Tiny Guerrero, you have crossed every ethical line imaginable. There is no other recourse. Justice will be served for Cobalt Bleu."
She began to advance upon him again. Wendeval slowly stepped back.
"You are obsessed, deputy. What is it about his death that irks you so? Misplaced maternal instinct?" That did little to slow her approach. "Or is it that you feel like you failed to protect your people?"
The remark, along with the double meaning, struck true. "...you knew?"
"That you were a faunus passing for human?" He snarled. "Yes."
Knowledge of her 'family' led him to connect the dots years ago. Sheriff Roscoe had never married. That charity case orphanage in Tocsin he was always donating to seemed as good a place to pick up a brat as any.
Much of her behavior only made sense if she were one of them. Her affinity for Tocsin, those entanglements with the militia, and the push for stronger ties between the settlements. All were self-serving, hypocritical ploys.
Perhaps she had been working as a spy for them. That would have explained how Stella Lee always knew Wendeval's business. There was no way his own employees had talked.
"Then why did you keep me around? You could have dismissed me from my role."
"You were more valuable under my thumb."
Cyan was influential with the volunteers. There was no telling how they might respond to her sacking. If she were to join the Tocsin militia or, gods forbid, start her own security force, how many might join her?
Better to have a critic on the inside than outside throwing bricks.
"Were you planning to use that against me? Like blackmail?"
"The thought crossed my mind." Wendeval admitted, though probably not in the way she imagined.
If the heat ever got too high because of his policies, he planned to let her identity slip. That would have created a whole different narrative. After all, how could the Sheriff's Office be discriminatory if a faunus occupied such a high-ranking position?
The reaction would fall along predictable lines. All the animals in Tocsin would question if Cyan was a traitor, an opportunist, or mentally ill. Relay citizens would feel betrayed and lied to. Everyone would be so distracted by the story that they would forget why they were angry with the Sheriff's Office to begin with.
"How about it?" He asked with curiosity. "Would you be willing to let me go if I keep your skeletons buried?"
"Never in a million years."
"Oh well. Worth a shot."
There were no surprises there. Cyan was too much of a do-gooder. She would rather quit or expose the secret than give in. It was almost admirable.
"The only leniency I can offer is if you return the Xiao Long children."
"Them? They are around here somewhere." He made an exaggerated gesture. "The mines are dangerous, though. People get lost in them all the time. You should understand that lesson very well."
Cyan let out a sharp exhale. "Dad?"
"That's right! He disappeared around these parts, didn't he? What a strange coincidence."
"You didn't…"
But he did. The previous sheriff had not been agreeable to a partnership with the Duma. Even after seeing what they offered, he refused to play ball. Drastic actions were taken to ensure the future of Relay.
Truly, Wendeval had been torn up inside about what he had done. His first kill. A remorseful part of him had always wanted to give his predecessor's daughter closure. There had not been a body left to give after the one-way trip down the Dust bin.
Cyan did not appreciate the gift. "My father! Cobalt! Were they all just casualties to your ambitions!?"
Her simple views on reality had left her incapable of empathizing with him. She would never understand his truth. Life forced great men to occasionally transgress.
Mr. Bleu's death was not planned. What happened on that dark night, when Tiny had returned late from a supply run with an injured boy in tow, was not his decision. Neither was the brute's assault that had gravely injured the little faunus.
Much like with Sheriff Roscoe, Wendeval had been presented with two bad choices. Let the child go to expose their operations or sully his hands once more. Looking down at the unconscious lad in the back of the transport, he realized there was no choice at all.
Wendeval simply finished what the mentally addled pugilist had started.
"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made."
"You-" A rare flash of rage passed her face. "You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. I highly suggest you take it."
Wendeval rolled his eyes. His deputies were so predictable. Mal was greedy, Maggie deferred to authority, and Cyan was clueless. There was a reason why he was in charge and why he would always win.
He began walking towards the detonator.
"Where are you going? You are under arrest!"
"I heard you." He continued, unimpressed. "Before we go, let me take care of something. It should only take a second."
The sovereign of Relay arrived at the table. The blasting machine was in hand. He made to remove the block that held the plunger up.
"Cease and desist!"
"Or what? You'll shoot?"
If Cyan refrained after learning about her father, she never would. That left him free to dispose of Branwen. He was already thinking ahead to how he would spin the story to his advantage.
Sure, he would be arrested, but what evidence did they have? It would be his word against demonstrable liars. No one would be able to prove what had happened in the mines. With his connections, he would come out on top.
As the wooden wedge was removed, Wendeval felt true elation. His fingers wrapped around the handle top. He looked to the ceiling in rapture. Victory had never felt sweeter.
A series of booms went out through the cavern.
Oddly enough, the sound could not have been from the explosive materials packed across the tunnels. Wendeval had not initiated the detonator yet. The source was much closer.
Deputy Roscoe had her revolver out, pointed in his direction. A trail of vapor rolled out of the barrel. The scent of fire Dust reached his nostrils.
Frightened, he checked his body. There was no pain or traumatic injuries to report. He did not believe she would have missed though. Cyan tended to hit whatever she targeted. Wendeval found out what that was soon after.
His hand was still on the plunger. The box it was connected to was deformed. Six large holes had punctured the plating. The inside wires were exposed and frayed.
"No." Wendeval pressed down on the handle. There was a flicker and little else. "No!"
He pulled it up and pressed down. Again and again, the same result recurred until the spark licked something flammable. The whole mechanism began to smoke. Enraged, he knocked the malfunctioning device off the table.
"That was a warning, sir."
Wendeval felt his face grow as warm as the smoldering remains of his plans. He looked back to the disloyal deputy. His wrath grew exponentially with every passing moment. An urge for violence had taken root.
"You've ruined everything!" From his holster, he brought his own gun to bear.
She ducked behind cover as his weapon barked. The bullets pinged uselessly off discarded mining tools. Knowing that she would be reloading her six-shooter, he sought a place to hide. Behind a conveyor belt was where he found shelter.
Once concealed, he began to plan again. There had to be another way to set off the explosives. If he could contact Griffith or a member of the excavation crew, he was sure they could come up with a solution.
A timer had begun. Depending on how long Branwen wasted searching for his daughter amongst the Grimm, Wendeval could have hours or minutes. That meant he needed to discover that detonation technique before the rogue escaped.
But before any of that, he had to deal with Cyan. End her before she ended him. That meant he would have to dirty his hands. Again.
Crawling perpendicular to the rubber path allowed him to reposition. Silently slithering, he reached the end of the line. Pressed against the metal surface, he slowly shifted to a stooped posture.
He sought out any trace of his antagonist. Nothing caught his attention until he saw a bobbing motion to his right. A dark, textile material was poking out over a junk pile. A hat, he figured. That was the top of her head.
Carefully, he brought around his gun. The angle was not there. He needed a better viewpoint.
Taking a gamble, he stepped up onto the assembly line. His legs wobbled. Reaching out, he grabbed onto a pillar that shook while supporting him. High above, a Dust processing blade pointed down menacingly.
Back to where Cyan was, he saw that she had not moved. Likely, she was waiting for him to come near. Congratulating himself for outsmarting the woman, he aimed again. This time he had no obstacles in his path and fired.
The projectile struck true. Her hat, however, made a curious movement. That old-fashioned accessory flipped up into the air, revealing it had been perched on the pile. She was not there at all.
He had been duped.
With wild fervor, he looked around again. He found her for real this time beside a compressor, taking aim. Too late to matter, he tried to squeeze off another round. Instead, he was met with a sharp blow to his abdomen.
A crack of thunder reached his ears. This time he really had been shot. In wounded agony, he tripped on to his back.
His finger pressed down on the trigger as he emptied his clip into the ceiling. Staring down, he panicked as a red splotch on his gut began to grow. Wendeval's mind raced, wondering how to stem the bleeding.
A metallic screech overhead momentarily banished those thoughts. His eyes widened. The cutter was jittering. He had damaged the protective guard locking it in place.
Without anything to hold the blade, gravity took hold. The still sharp edge that had been used to split countless rocks came barreling down towards his neck. A horrified bellow was all he could summon as the would-be-mayor lost his head.
Chapter Next: Carry that Weight