Here we go

Cover Art: Mystery White Flame

Chapter 47

Jaune skidded and bounced along the gravel drive. Aura flared and skin grated; his muscles burned so much he wanted to curl up. Knowing better, he ignored the pain and kept moving, dodging a red blast of energy that churned up the landscape. That was Neo's teaching. Always keep moving. Never stand still. You could rest when the fight was over. He didn't have to be better than Adam; he just had to be better than everyone else who died against him.

That meant he didn't have to win either, which was lucky since he hadn't thrown a single attack.

"Fight me!" Adam roared. "Stop running away and fight me! Stop mocking me!"

Mocking? Jaune parried a strike and felt his arms burn. There was no mockery here; it was the opposite. He respected Adam's strength too much to think he had a chance. Falling back as Adam broke through his guard, he feigned a dive to the left and dove right. Wilt went slashing by and he scurried to his feet on the other side, idly wishing he had a gun or a grenade or something he could use to buy a little time.

Slamming a foot down, Adam growled and swung again – using his Semblance but this time aiming it down. The blast carved into the gravel several feet in front of Jaune. The attack itself missed, but the shockwave blew pebbles up and at him like a shotgun blast. Fighting the instinct to cover his eyes with his arms, he clenched them tight but open and used his shield, just about making out the shape of Adam behind as the hard buckshot pelted his face and shoulders. Jaune brought his shield up in front of him.

Adam's boot struck it. Using it as a vault, he leapt over, twirling in the air. Blush barked and shot down on him, doing little damage thanks to his aura but pinning him in place. It was enough for Adam to angle himself in mid-air and sheathe Wilt, preparing another attack. With his legs already buckled and his shield arm still recovering, he was wide open.

Grimacing, he pushed all his aura to the fore and prepared for the worst.

Something cold tickled the back of his neck.

"I think I caught something!" a jovial voice yelled. A second later Jaune was yanked off his feet by his collar, pulled to the ground and then reeled in via a line attached to the back of his coat. His head bounced and bumped on the gravel as he watched the spot he'd occupied be engulfed and destroyed in red light.

A moment later, his head bumped into a pair of shins. Jaune looked up to see a man with short brown hair and a sleeveless white top grinning down at him.

"Looks like a rare Vale species. Maybe I should throw it back?"

Had he just been saved by a man with a fishing pole? Yep. It was official. There was no justice. The man's smile faltered as he looked up, flicking his metal rod to make the hook in Jaune's collar come free. The line retracted only a second before he leapt over Jaune's body and blocked an incoming attack. Fresh as he was, the man still grunted and strained against Adam's raw power.

"You would interrupt an honour duel!?" Adam hissed.

"You would interrupt a fishing trip?"

"Coward." That was directed to him, no doubt. Adam broke off and stepped back, anger fading as he took in the scene of reinforcements rushing in. Jaune did as well, watching a dark-skinned woman and a dog faunus protect the hostages and disable the White Fang respectively.

"Did Team RWBY get the hostages out the manor?" Jaune gasped. If not, this was a disaster waiting to happen.

"They radioed in," the man said, offering a thumbs up. "They're safe."

Jaune sighed in relief even as Blake came over and knelt, pulling him up by one shoulder. His body was battered and bruised, running on fumes. He let her pull an arm over her shoulder and took no pleasure in having to slump against her.

Adam watched it all. "This is what it comes to. More treachery, Blake. First me, then the White Fang and now this? Is there no end to how far you'll bend the rules to suit your needs?"

"You took hostages, Adam."

"We've always taken hostages. You just like to pretend the ones taken and killed while you served among our ranks didn't count." He pointed his sword at her, though Clover stepped in front of it, fishing pole at the ready.

"Surrender, Adam Taurus. You've lost your hostages and lost the advantage. Despite your crimes, I can promise you a fair and just trial in Atlas. You will have the best legal representative money can buy. I will see to it personally."

Adam threw back his head in laughter.

"Well, it was worth a shot." Clover didn't look too surprised. "Is this the part where you try and escape? We have your surrounded and outnumbered." He cracked his neck. "Catching you after all this time. It must be my lucky day."

Jaune personally felt it was a little too early to be talking of having captured Adam, but he wasn't wrong per se. With the hostages currently protected and Adam's forces falling to pieces around him, all the chips were falling in their favour. Barring some last-ditch plan, it didn't look like he had a choice. I doubt Tyrian and Hazel are here. There's no way they'd have let this honour duel nonsense happen. They'd have just killed me.

Salem had been willing to abandon Cinder when it was clear she was out of reach. Might she be doing the same with Adam now? The terrorist's laughter took on a hysterical edge. Without stopping, he reached up and removed his mask.

Jaune's stomach flipped. Adam might once have been a handsome man. He still was, if one could look past the grisly brand burned over one eye, callously declaring him property of the SDC. He wouldn't go so far as to say it made him sympathetic of the psychopath, but it provided some small understanding. How could you live a normal life with that branded into your face? Who would do that to another person?

Clover sighed. "Bloody SDC…"

"I won't flee," Adam shouted, throwing the mask away. "My life was ruined here and if it must end here, so be it. I will at least rest easy knowing I've had my vengeance on the man who made mine and so many other faunus' life a living hell."

He's posturing for the cameras, Jaune realised. They were still rolling and Adam knew he was fucked. There would be no getting out alive without him literally fighting off every huntsman here. Instead, he was making his moments count. Sending a message. Twisting the knife one last time in the Schnee family's gut. And in Atlas.

The SDC always got away with what they were accused of because there was so little evidence. That which did crop up was drowned in NDA's, destroyed or bought out. The rest was suppressed. There'd be no suppressing this. Adam's face was going to be seen across all Remnant. This was going to cause problems. He could tell.

"Adam," Jaune blurted out. "Join us. Join Beacon."

"What!?" Blake shrieked.

"What?" Clover asked.

"WHAT!?" he thought he heard Cinder scream. Or maybe it was Glynda. It might even have been Roman, all the way from Beacon.

"What?" Adam asked, far quieter. He chuckled. "Join you? You're insane."

He was. Gods, but he was. It was the worst idea he'd ever had but it was the only way he could think to minimise the damage. "People have suppressed you," he said. "They have mistreated you. I don't agree with the things you've done but I can tell you once did them for the right reasons. I'll help force change. I'll make things better."

Clover and Blake didn't approve, he could tell. How he'd even get Adam out of Atlas after his crimes was a mystery. Whether Vale would even accept him was another. As unlikely as it all sounded, there was a moment of silence. A lull in the fighting as everyone waited for Adam's answer. When it came as a soft laugh, Jaune's heart fell.

"If you'd found me ten years ago, history might have been different."

Blake swallowed. "Adam…"

"No more words." Adam brought Wilt up, facing the three of them. "Our paths are chosen. I am Adam Taurus, leader of the White Fang. One of you or three of you; I will fight regardless." Eyes narrowing, he lunged.

Blake pushed Jaune aside and went the other way, Adam spearing between them with Wilt extended. Seeing Jaune already down and out, he swept toward Blake, almost cutting her arm off but for Clover's hook catching his sword mid-swing and diverting it just an inch. It brushed by Blake's shoulder and sheared off several strands of hair.

Reeling Wilt in the rest of the way, Clover leapt up and delivered a kick to Adam's chest. Blush fired at close range and pelted the undersides of his legs. On what should have been the second shot, the mechanism failed or the dust ran dry. It spat angrily but misfired, jamming. Hissing, Adam swung Wilt at Clover's head and pulled Blush off his waist entirely, reversing it and warding off an attack from behind without looking.

He'd simply assumed Blake would take the chance – and he'd been right.

Spinning, he reversed the motion, cutting to Blake and batting Clover away with his sheathe. Suddenly one on one with his old lover, Adam launched a quick flurry of attacks that had her backpedalling in a panic.

"Shit." Jaune stabbed a hand down and pushed himself up, lurching over. He didn't know what he'd do but getting close forced Adam to assess him. He swung wildly and Adam had to block, giving Blake a chance to stumble away and create distance.

Adam's eyes burned into his from below their locked blade.

"Oh fu-"

The boot found his crotch. Jaune's eyes crossed. The second kick caught the inside of his knee and buckled it to the side. Rather than curl up and be cut in two, he used his last strength to tackle forward, getting so close that Adam's downward swing couldn't catch him with the full length of the blade. Adam tried to compensate by stepping back with it, earning enough distance to just cut into Jaune's left shoulder. It seared across his collarbone but what might otherwise have been a fatal slash didn't break his aura.

He was too exhausted to make anything of it, though. With little else to do, he butted up into Adam's chin, cracking his head against the faunus' jaw.

Clover caught Adam's cheek with his rod before he could recover. The blow resounded with a stinging crack and sent Adam spinning away. Clover was beside Jaune a moment later, pulling him up with a firm grip. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Jaune rubbed his shoulder and checked his scroll quickly. His aura was in the red. "You know, if you had a real weapon instead of a fishing rod, this might be over already."

"If I had a real weapon, I wouldn't have been able to reel you to safety."

Jaune sighed. "Point taken."

"My team have to escort the hostages away before they can join us. Yours need to do the same on their end. It's going to be just the three of us no matter how much we might wish otherwise. You still good to fight?"

No.

"Yes."

"Good." Clover clapped his shoulder as Adam rose, brushing a hand over his mouth. "I'll engage him. You try and find an opening. And be careful, an opponent with nothing to lose is ten times as dangerous."

He knew that well enough. It was how he survived as long as he had. Suddenly being on the other end of it wasn't a nice feeling. Digging Crocea Mors down and taking a second to catch his breath, Jaune readied himself for round two.

/-/

Ironwood's back hit the wall. Hazel crushed him against it, continuing the carrying charge with his head and shoulders against Ironwood's ribs. The metal wall buckled under them, straining as huge, bulging muscles rippling with dust crackled.

Wincing at the pain, especially where his mechanical chest implants dug into flesh, Ironwood cupped both hands above Hazel and brought them down on the back of his neck. Once. Twice. The third blow forced Hazel back, though not before he planted a fist straight into Ironwood's jaw. The world spun as he was launched to the side. Striking the ground, he rolled away and jumped to his feet, running a few more paces for good measure.

Hazel barrelled forward like a juggernaut.

Ripping his handgun forward, he fired a quick shot into the behemoth's face and held his ground. Three shots pinged off Hazel's arms before Ironwood sighted and took careful aim, firing one last time at his eyes.

He was moving the second Hazel closed them. A quick step to the side and a knee driven up into the chin of the rushing monster. The force of it combined with Hazel's own charge sent a sickening crack through the room. Ironwood followed it up by pistol-whipping the man's head from behind, sending him crashing down.

Even then, he didn't stop. Stepping back, he pointed his gun down and unloaded the rest of the magazine. For all the good it did. Not too surprised to see a lack of blood, Ironwood dodged back and reloaded while he had the chance. His white coat was in tatters and discarded, far too dangerous to be fighting in when Hazel could grab onto it. His black shirt was ripped where his own cybernetics had caught and torn the fabric.

The magazine slid into place not a second before Hazel was on him. Ducking below the first punch, Ironwood drew the slide back and released. Too close to open fire, he instead used the butt of the weapon to block an incoming punch, wincing as it was nearly ripped from his hand entirely. Benefits to a mechanical arm, really. Had it been flesh and muscle, his hand would have been forced open reflexively. Planting a foot back to brace himself, he deflected the follow up strike with his human arm and cocked his robotic one back, launching it in and at Hazel's cheek.

The blow was glancing, Hazel pulling aside at the last second. Flat-footed, it still let Ironwood spin and catch him with a backhand, knocking him further off balance. His knee was caught by an elbow digging down, sending his muscles into spasms. Gritting his teeth, he slapped the gun into Hazel's teeth, knocking one out.

Hazel caught his gun hand by the wrist as it went by and twisted. Metal screeched and servos whirred. Even if he couldn't feel the pain, Ironwood winced. The metal could only go so far and it was still connected to flesh at some point, which was forced to bend with the arm. His good hand hit the floor, leg sweeping out at the backs of Hazel's shins. The bastard was too heavy to topple but he managed to force him to bend his knee.

That was all he needed to hook his arm around Hazel's heel and pull.

It was like a tree being toppled. Hazel fell gracefully, but he was still a huge man and made more unwieldy by the dust he'd injected into himself. His landing was like an earthquake and Ironwood's chest retched, the connection points of flesh and metal dragging agonisingly as his arm was pulled almost out its socket. He'd have disconnected it to save himself the pain if he wasn't sure he needed every advantage he could get.

As Hazel fell, Ironwood launched himself on top, trying to get a knee down on the man's throat. His hand slid to his pants, drawing a combat knife that he brought up and down at Hazel's eye. He wasn't even surprised when Hazel caught it, though catching it by the blade itself was rough. Aura protected his hands but it would still damage him. Ironwood forced it down with his robotic arm, slamming his good hand over the pommel to add more force.

It wasn't enough.

Whatever dust Hazel injected himself with made him a monster. His other hand came up and found Ironwood's wrist. His robotic one. He allowed it, sure that Atlesian steel and engineering would prove enough. It wasn't as though he had bones or ligaments that could be twisted, cut or squeezed together to force his grip to weaken.

What he didn't expect was for Hazel to grunt and crush his mechanical wrist in one hand. Metal splintered and cracked like porcelain, several jagged shards going so far as to pierce into Hazel's hand. Blood and mechanical fluid ran down his wrist as Ironwood's arm sparked and spluttered. If that had been flesh and blood…

Ripping the knife to the side, Hazel tossed Ironwood away, sending him crashing back into a wall. He surged to his feet and chased after, Ironwood only just getting away before the man's fist, crackling with electricity, punched through the metal wall in one go. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, ironwood dove for his discarded sidearm, caught it in his only working hand and unloaded fourteen quick shots into Hazel's head. The only opening he had as the man roared and tore his arm free in a shower of metal.

Gun running dry and one arm down, Ironwood tossed it away with. Reloading with his teeth was possible, but not in the middle of a fight. His arm was toast. He could move the shoulder but it was leaking internal parts all over the floor and that would soon fail. Idly, he considered removing it at the shoulder, but it could serve as a flail. Any tool was a weapon at this point.

"Your best isn't good enough, General." Hazel rose to his full height, muscles flexing and bulging with infernal crackles of light. His veins stood out sorely against skin.

"You'd know about that, wouldn't you?" Ironwood taunted back. "Yours was a life spent not being good enough. If you had been, your sister might still be alive."

Hazel bristled but did not lose control. "Tasteless of you."

"Yes," he admitted easily. Anything to get an edge. "But still not as tasteless as wishing to crash Atlas down onto the people below."

"I do not wish that."

"But you'll do it. Don't make excuses."

"I will not." Hazel stepped forward. "Nor will I allow you to stall for time until reinforcements arrive."

"Reinforcements?" Ironwood laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that. I specifically cleared the area for this, even going so far as to replace the guards. Did you not wonder why? Or is it that you assumed it was just to limit casualties?"

Hazel stopped to think. To his credit, it only took him a second. "You've rigged the place to blow?"

"Close. You have the spirit of it down." Raising his voice, Ironwood said, "System Security. Initiate security protocol `Forlorn Hope`."

"Security protocol Forlorn Hope can only be initiated by-"

"System Override. Authority of General James Ironwood. Password: Relic of Creation."

"Override accepted." The mechanical voice chimed. "Initiating security protocol."

Thin slats along the tops of the walls opened and thick gas began to pump into the room. It fell, heavier than air, and soon began to pool around the bottom inch and a half of the floor, slowly rising.

Hazel's chest rose and fell. "And this is?"

"Nerve agent."

"Disgusting. I thought Atlas above such things."

"We all have dark moments to our past," Ironwood said. He regretted that they had such toxins himself and refused to use them but lacking any way to get rid of them entirely, he'd found the one scenario in which he'd allow it. "It will take only two minutes for the room to fill."

"Two minutes is time aplenty to kill you."

"It may well be. But is it time aplenty to decouple, recover and take the Relic after doing so?"

It wouldn't be. Hazel scowled. "You'd kill us both."

"Yes." His answer was immediate. "Yes, I would. If it meant the safety of my Kingdom, of my people, I would give my life a hundred times over."

The harder they fought, the more Hazel had to breathe. He was already panting slightly. If they did battle again, it would be easy to delay him for a minute. Even if Hazel went for the Relic, he could simply hold the door. There was no doubting he'd break through and escape, but how far he would get? Well, that was another matter.

Atlas would fall either way, crushing those below, but that would be the only result. Thousands would be dead, but Salem would not get her Relic. It was a risk, but he was banking on what little they knew of Rainart. That he wouldn't kill so many in a spiteful gesture that didn't even complete his mission. That he would only take such losses if it ensured his success.

Hazel Rainart looked up toward the Relic. He scowled once, and then turned back to Ironwood.

"That's a good thirty seconds right there," Ironwood said. "You're hesitating."

Frowning didn't make it any less true. Hazel shook his head and stepped back toward the door, keeping an eye on him lest he seal it. He made no such effort to. Metal wouldn't stand up to Rainart anyway and it was in his best interests to let the man leave peacefully. Push him and he might try for the Relic, killing everyone below.

"We are not finished here, General. You should have let me take it."

"I think we'll agree to disagree on that one."

"No," Hazel said sadly. "We won't. Salem did not instruct me to do this. I requested it. I requested the opportunity because I considered the alternative too cruel. Too costly in terms of human life." He sighed heavily. "Now that I have failed, there will be nothing to stop her. Remember this moment, General. Remember that you had the opportunity to prevent the coming storm."

"Stop her from what?"

"For what little it is worth, I am sorry." Hazel turned and sprinted down the corridor, his booming footsteps echoing away. There would be no one to stop him and that was intentional. Atlas couldn't afford to lose anyone.

"System Security. Cease security protocol `Forlorn Hope`. Open filtration vents."

"Request Denied."

"System Override. Authority of General James Ironwood. Password: Ozma."

"Beginning filtration."

Vents along the floor opened and fans whirred, sucking the nerve agent down and away, while those above closed and sealed. Soon, the noxious gas was gone entirely, though he'd need to visit the infirmary to make sure he hadn't been affected. Bringing out his scroll, he dialled a number.

"General," Winter said. "Are you okay?"

"Alive, Specialist, though worse for wear." He regarded his limp arm and sighed. More work. "Has there been any attempt on the maiden?"

"No, sir. She is still in her bed. We haven't faced so much as a single foe."

Hm. Salem might have given up on her with Cinder Fall in captivity. If she lacked the time to find a replacement, that would make sense, though he wasn't prepared to risk everything on that. "Keep watch over her until we can confirm Rainart's departure. Once we have, I want you to scrub the system and find where the leak came in. He had the codes to get through. See if they're the lures we put in."

Hundreds of codes, all viable but each one serialised and given to an individual person. No two people had the same codes, ensuring that if Hazel had gotten in via one of those, they'd know exactly who gave it to them. It wouldn't ensure guilt, but unless that person had a good excuse, he'd throw them in the slammer himself.

"Shall I send a team to relieve you?"

"Yes, but to reinforce. i'm not leaving until I'm sure he's gone. Also, send a medic." He looked at his arm again. "Scratch that, Specialist; send an engineer instead. Another thing," he said, frowning. "Send the word out that we're moving to Defence Level Four."

"Four, sir!?"

"Something Rainart said has me on edge." If Salem didn't care for the maiden, then the only other way she could get the Relic was to bring Atlas down around it. It wasn't subtle, but after losing Cinder and Watts, he worried she might throw subtlety out the window.

Salem had more tools at hand than stealth. The Grimm, for one.

"I want the military prepared," he said. "Potentially for the worst."

/-/

A student, a fake and a specialist fight a terrorist. It goes badly.

It was honestly galling how even three on one, Adam was still winning. Jaune supposed it shouldn't be. He was exhausted before the fight began, Blake had to constantly run interference to keep him from being carved up, and Clover was just one man and was holding his own to a fair degree. Really, it was more a one on one between him and Adam except with Adam trying to kill the other two at the same time.

If the fight began before he'd worn himself to the bone surviving against Adam, it might have been a different matter. Less skill or not, he could have still been a useful distraction. As it was, he was a burden. Both to Clover and to Blake.

Should I retreat? What if that ends up getting them killed?

Burden or not, every second Adam went for him was a moment he wasn't going for them. His muscles were already threatening to give way but he forced himself to move forward, yelling out a battle cry more to draw Adam's attention than intimidate him.

Adam cocked an eyebrow and swept Crocea Mors aside. He couldn't follow up with Blake coming in from the left, but he checked Wilt's pommel back into his face, using the action both to knock Jaune away and draw his sword back for a thrust into Blake. She parried it to the side and tried to flip over him, looping her ribbon down to ensnare his arm. In response, Adam caught it with his free hand and yanked her bodily out the air, slamming her down.

"I taught you that move!" he yelled, bringing his sword up for a stab.

Blake exploded into smoke as she was lanced through. Out from under it, a hook on a line snagged Adam's pant leg and reeled suddenly, pulling him off balance. Blake was too far away to take advantage so Jaune did the only thing he could and hurled his shield at him.

It looked better in the comics. Maybe it would have spun like a frisbee if it was round. As it was, the kite shield slammed into the back of Adam's head and annoyed but didn't drop him. Swinging down, Adam cut the fishing line, partially disarming Clover.

He has to be running on fumes. He's good, but I'm exhausted and I'm fairly fit myself. His aura was low mostly thanks to the various clips he'd received from Adam's Semblance, but good old-fashioned fatigue played its part. The problem was, could Blake last? He wasn't so worried about Clover, both not knowing the guy well enough and him being a soldier and much older, but Blake was a student and Adam knew her well enough to see through every move. Damn it. I need Glynda but she won't leave the manor before knowing all the hostages are out. Same for Ozpin.

"Arghh!" Blake was slapped away and kicked to the ground again. This time, she hit it hard and choked, spitting out as Adam slammed a foot down on her sternum. It was the real Blake.

"I take no pleasure in this," Adam said, raising his sword. "Goodbye."

"BLAKE!" Jaune rushed in, seeing Clover do the same from the other side with a curse. The Atlesian Specialist was too far away to reach in time. Jaune charged in, screaming at the top of his voice to make sure Adam heard.

Stab Blake and get stabbed by him or turn and face him.

Kill a defenceless girl on international television or the headmaster of Beacon. One of those would serve the White Fang better, and as Jaune brought Crocea Mors up over his head in a stupidly telegraphed cleave, he knew the opening he'd left would be far too tempting. At least, he hoped so.

Adam's good eye slid his way. Narrowed. It was almost in slow motion that he saw the man duck and twist, step off Blake – who rolled away – and chamber his sword up against his shoulder, tip pointed at Jaune and body ready to thrust.

He'd left the opening on purpose but to imply that was a trap suggested more speed than he had. Maybe someone like Ruby could fight like that; she was fast enough to react and counterattack knowing where the enemy was going to strike. He wasn't. Knowing that Adam was going to thrust deep into his chest was meaningless when he couldn't do anything about it.

As Adam lunged and Blake rolled, the hook left trapped in his pant leg caught the stockings of Blake's left leg. As she rolled, she accidentally pulled him with her. Adam's right leg shifted and he stumbled, Wilt's tip dipping just a little lower as it came in.

Jaune's aura gave way with a sound like shattering glass. Cold steel burned deep through his stomach and cut into his body. His mouth fell open and his eyes bulged. Distantly, he heard Blake scream his name but all he could hear was a rough grating sound that echoed deep inside him. Reflexively, he folded over the attack and Adam, Crocea Mors forgotten as his arms gripped Adam's shoulders.

Wilt's guard pressed against his stomach. Adam's face was up against his chest. With his last strength, Jaune gripped tight onto the man's shoulders and held him there, preventing him pulling out. Tears in her eyes, Blake leapt to her feet behind and slammed Gambol Shroud down into Adam's back.

The same sound echoed. Blood spurted.

Oh, Jaune thought, watching with a kind of numb calmness. I guess Adam's aura was low after all…

"Prove your words," Adam hissed into Jaune's neck. "Prove them. Otherwise, you do nothing but show the world I was right."

Jaune tried to reply but blood bubbled up past his lips. Borne down both by Adam and Blake leaning against Adam, he fell to his knees, two bodies locked together as Adam expired still burying Wilt in his stomach. Clover was already rushing over, bringing out a tiny med kit that Jaune felt like pointing out really wouldn't be enough for this. Hysterically, he giggled at the tiny amount of gauze, bandage and a pen-injection Clover pulled out.

He vaguely felt the piercing sensation as Clover stabbed it into his shoulder, then the blessed emptiness as something cold and heavy swamped his mind. It probably wasn't an anesthetic, but when pain was the only thing that kept you awake, removing that proved the drug as good as one.

It was like being knocked over by a truck.

So, just for reference I do know what an EpiPen is, but I didn't want to use it as I think that's a brand name and thus unlikely to exist in Remnant. But yes, the "pen-injection" is an EpiPen. Presumably morphine or painkillers. One of the things a student actually covers in their fic that I always find interesting is the idea that, with dust as the primary (and only known) source of energy, does Remnant have things like oil? Or if it does, do they know what it is or use it in any way?

And if they don't have oil, do they have plastics? We actually see dust being carried around in glass so they might genuinely not have plastics. Not super relevant to this chapter, but the bit where Ironwood leaks "mechanical fluid" made me remember it because I wrote "oil" but then thought, "wait, Remnant runs on dust, not oil".

Not much comedy in this chapter, I admit. It was a twin fight scene and a serious moment.

No Omake this week. I'm busy working on that stupid event that is coming around again in March. It's the 25th this year, so I'm already trying to bolster attendance numbers and get the nominations sorted, sent to judges and then badgering the judges to decide faster. It's a pain because they seem to think they should have 3-4 weeks to judge a shortlist of ten entries of no more than 500 words, but have no understanding of how the finalists will also need time to arrange to even attend the event, so the longer they take, the less warning the finalists have that they need to attend an aware ceremony.

Next Chapter: 20th Feb

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur