Notes: Hard Light Dust is the only successfully manufactured "Dust" on Remnant. Originally created by Atlassian big brains, through the combination of liquid Ice Dust, cold af rubidium gas, and some very confused photons. Hard Light Dust does not come in a crystal form and is really difficult to procure on a civilian level. It is prioritized for Hunters, Witchfingers, and various government agencies. (unless you are savvy enough to make it yourself? )
Also, I know things are pretty wild right now for a lot people in a lot of places. Please stay safe everyone.
Music Choices: Mr. Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity by Will Wood and the Tapeworms, Blotjarl and Ivar's Revenge by Danheim, Live to Fight Another Day by The Cog is Dead
Eclipse
Chapter 20
The Raid Part I: Alibis
...
"For this to be successful, you must prevent your identities from becoming compromised above all else. A single break in the chain, and it will be the undoing of every person involved. All of you must find a way to have formidable alibis, for days leading up to and after the event. This will be much trickier than it should be, considering the natures of your opponents."
...
Saunus. Elphaba's Scepter. Flight 233B from Vale to Burhhurst.
The ferry from Vale to Burhhurst ran thrice weekly and was hardly ever what one might consider crowded. At most, it had twenty people, who might work in the Kingdom during the week or go to school, before flying home for the weekend. Burhhurst was not like the other rich orbital Settlements or townships around Vale; it was a bootstrap backwater more than a 'human flight' suburb, and had survived for well over a century out of sheer spite and determination rather than any handouts from Vale or its wealthier cousins. Of course, that did have its downsides.
Occasionally they got a little overwhelmed with the Grimm populations, but despite not having a huge number of Hunter families or retirees, they made up for it with guts and quick access to exposed Dust deposits. This high up in the mountains, they didn't have anything like Beowolves, Boarbatusks or even Ursa, which all preferred lower altitudes and forests. Skogtrolls were pretty common, as well as Almas, Nevermore, Unseelie and, quite unfortunately, at least several Wurdalak.
In fact, said Wurdalak were deeply annoying to the typically unflappable citizens of Burhhurst, mostly because their type were nearly impossible to remove once they set up shop. For starters, no one had physically seen them nor had they been detected on any cameras. They had simply left traces of their presence on the population over several years; much like Apathy might, but more discreetly. So discreetly, in fact, that there was next to no evidence of their predation besides a collectively lowered immunity in the town, multiple cases of anemia, small bite barks and the occasional splitting headache in the morning.
Wurdalak were considered a mythic vampiric category of Grimm. Highly evolved, highly intelligent, and shrouded in mystery, serious talk of Wurdalak made even the most grizzled Hunter a bit anxious. There had been one documented Wurdalak kill in the last twenty years, and people still questioned it, since there was obviously no physical body. Some people thought Wurdalak were like the Hidebehind, and weren't actually real. Some other people insisted that the Hidebehind was also real; the different camps squabbled over the legitimacy of their Grimm species on Hunter forums with amusing regularity.
What was compiled on the supposed traits of Wurdalaks was outlandish to say the least. Supposedly, they didn't hunt the way most other Grimm did. They were selective in their prey, deeply patient and wasted nothing. Like Goliaths, they understood that wanton killing of a few people would bring swift retribution; so they exercised cunning and restraint, without fail. They recognized Hunters, and purposefully avoided contact with them. The online Grimm theorists even had a hypothesis that Wurdalak were even capable of shapeshifting into other Grimm forms, masquerading as a humble Beowolf or Sabre to avoid detection; this was considered a crackpot theory by most respectable Hunters.
Still, whether fancy Kingdom dwellers believed in Wurdalaks or Hidebehinds didn't matter to the denizens of Burhhurst. They had one, probably more, and were right pissed that it wasn't paying rent or helping out with the chores. They were also pissed that no one was going to do anything about it. The citizens of Burhhurst had grudgingly accepted that they would have a Wurdalak problem for some time.
So, it was with no little shock to the fifteen or so regulars on the ferry back home that a Huntress was leading a team of Beacon sophomore students on a hunt for the Wurdalaks. Said Huntress was none other than Joan Arc, whom most Burhhustians had heard of, especially after she had helped remove a Devil for them some years back. They were not a people prone to Hunter worship, since Hunter's rarely did anything for them, but this was different. Because this was the woman that had removed that Devil for free.
The Burhhurstians stared blatantly as the Huntress grilled her students on their knowledge of various Grimm types, weapon's maintenance, Dust physics and a variety of other things. Said students answered her solemnly, clearly shamefaced over the loss of their weekend and probably the next week. The crew of Elphaba's Scepter even watched the group on camera, the security footage picking up their embarrassed expressions as their instructor scolded them once more for getting into mischief and taking up her time in such an inconsiderate manner. None of said crew had the gall to laugh.
When the Elphaba landed, the team trailed meekly after their instructor as she beelined for the mission terminal in the town square, hardly pausing to take a breath of bright mountain air or allow her rascal students to catch theirs, either. They put their names on the board, right next to the long ignored ticket for Wurdalak removal.
The Burhhurstian's watched on, perhaps a speck more discretely, as they all disembarked and went about their daily business. Mrs. Krasnyik, who owned the motel and tavern duo on fifth street, called up all her friends to brag that Joan Arc, yes that one, was staying at her motel with her Hunters in training; and not only that, they were going to apparently take on their Wurdalak problem. And of course she was barely charging any of them a single lien, because that damned Devil had gotten her cousin Aleksi, and Krasnyik's don't forget blood debts, you know. All of Mrs. Krasnyik's friends went on to spread this news, and variations of this news, immediately.
George Fallow, the man with the most opinions in town, insisted at the tavern that sending a bunch of students to find a Wurdalak nest was the most irresponsible thing he'd ever heard of. Rozavyi Volkav, the mushroom farmer, laughed real loud and said he should go up there and tell her so. George Fallow sniffed at her and said he might do just that, but instead spent the rest of the afternoon in his cups talking about Atlassian imperialism and denying its similarities to Valish imperialism, and no one listened.
It was late afternoon, sundown really, when another stranger came to town, up the rugged switchbacks from the bottom of the mountain. How he made it up all that looking how he did - half starved and peeky- was a mystery. He was a man who looked like he belonged in Vacuo, not the highest mountain range on the continent, at least that's what Chern snickered to his lackeys. George Fallow was of the opinion that that was probably a bigoted thing to say, and told Chern so.
The man strolled into the tavern, went right up to the counter and asked for a glass of wine, like he really thought he was in Vacuo. Mrs. Krasnyik rightly asked 'does it look like we can grow grapes up here?', to which the prick replied 'it doesn't look like you can grow anything, to be honest', which wasn't exactly wrong. Rozavyi took exception to this, but he didn't notice at all, and instead asked for Joan Arc.
Now the tavern looked over this weird, tired looking man, with a crossbow under his patchy black cloak and white frost peppered throughout his fading, auburn hairline, and thought 'maybe he's a Hunter too, but a real sorry sort'. Mrs. Krasnyik then asked him for some identification, and he laughed and said he'd wait there then. Not fifteen minutes later, Joan Arc came downstairs from her motel room, clapped the wanderer on the shoulder, and up they went, talking about past Hunts. Everyone stared, until Briar Brunsworth fell out because he stood up too fast.
"Not to be rude," started Van, before pausing to watch as Joan and Raven went through the measures of warding the room against eavesdroppers, burning twisted scraps of blue cloth. His voice was hoarse, as if recovering from a sore throat. "But I'd like to talk to Nwyfre, now."
"Give us a moment," Joan clipped, pulling several glyphs scratched on tin coins from her pocket. "It's not like I don't have reservations about you, either, you know."
There was a brief, quiet pause. The motel room smelled like dry flowers and chamomile, to match the flowery curtains. Qrow was the first to take the plunge, and shrugged.
"Hey. I'm Qrow," Qrow stuck his hand out. Van stared at Qrow's palm with big maroon eyes, before finally smiling and shaking it. His fingers were bony and long, with little scarring.
"Hi Qrow. I'm Van."
"Hi Van, I'm Dad," said Taiyang, waving from one of the corners of the bed, Summer having perched across from him on wooden dresser. Van chuckled.
"Oh hi Dad. Did you get some good smokes while you were at the gas station?"
"Sorry, yea, I got into an argument with the cashier and it took way too much time-"
"Please don't encourage him," both Raven and Qrow drawled at the same time. The twins hesitated, sharing irritated glances. "Jinx, no -double jinx you owe me- nooo, fuck you-"
Taiyang waved again.
"Hi fuck yous. I'm Dad."
"I'm gonna fight you," Raven threatened, breaking eye contact with Qrow to glare at the blonde. She then hesitated, realizing her error.
Summer glanced between Taiyang and Raven, biting her lip, eyes bright with humor. Taiyang made a face, putting on a show of struggling with some challenge to his personal values. Finally, he smirked, eyes alight with irreverent glee.
"Hi 'Gonna fight you', I'm Dad-"
Raven tackled him. Van watched placidly as team STRQ devolved into a circus act, with Qrow and Summer instigating on the sidelines. At one point, Taiyang had Raven lifted up on his shoulder, laughing and pretending to dance as she shouted at him, while Summer mimicked showering lien on the both of them. Raven then broke free of Taiyang's vice grip upon her person, like some feral, black and red weasel and finally tried to take him out at the waist. It did not work. Qrow, meanwhile, was cackling so hard he was red in the face. It was quite apparent that the lot of them were more than a little delirious with stress.
"Enough of that, please," Joan called, having finished warding the room. "Before we get evicted for behaving like a herd of wildebeests."
Taiyang and Raven paused, coughed and composed themselves, with Summer grinning at the pair like a kitsune. Qrow tsked his partner, a wry, knowing look on his face; Taiyang did his best to look completely innocent.
Van held out his hand when Joan looked his way. Professor Arc huffed, handed her scroll over. He tossed it on the bed, before nodding at the rest of STRQ to do the same. One pile of scrolls later, Van nodded towards the twins; a pause, and Nwyfre's helmed image popped up in the corner.
"What, can't be bothered to meet in person then?" Van asked, his strained voice heavy with mock, or maybe genuine, disappointment.
"Just a matter of logistics at the moment," Nwyfre insisted coolly.
"I figured as much. What've you gotten yourself into this time, Morrigan, eh? Seems rather….adventurous," he smiled pleasantly, glancing towards Joan and then, briefly, Summer. Joan sniffed, unimpressed, while Tai and Raven gave the scrawny man careful stares.
"Never mind that. Just be ready to uphold your end of things; you're going to be busy for the next week at least."
Raven and Summer shared a curious glance. Nwyfre had never said how exactly her contact planned to do that, only that they needed to physically meet him for him to be able to do so.
"Of course, of course. Not a problem for us," Van beamed. "It'll be very fun, actually, we've just been so bored out here in the sticks."
"I'm sure."
"You know how it is- Oh, and remember," Van leaned forward, his mild expression changing into something a bit too eager. "To us go some of the spoils."
Summer's ears flicked suspiciously at that request, while Raven gave the disreputable Van a sharp glance.
"Naturally."
Van looked genuinely excited for a moment, before the mask of laconic indifference settled over his weathered face once again.
"Ahh. You're my favorite so far, did I ever tell you that?"
"I am not susceptible to flattery, Van," Nwyfre droned. "And you don't have favorites."
"Aww, but that's not true! The Saunus tribes just aren't the same as they used to be, you know? And Hekate help us, we can't thrive within three hundred clicks of Atlas. We've been considering moving on to Anima next, you know?"
"Oh? I hear Mistral is lovely this time of year. After this wraps, should find a place settle down near there-"
"Stop colluding or plotting or whatever it is you two are doing in front of me, like I'm not here," Joan interrupted, frowning at the pair. Van clapped and rubbed his palms together with a cheerful if raspy laugh, maroon eyes sparkling.
"No need to feel left out! We are all colluding together! And what a collusion it is, eh? Who says different sorts can't unite for common goals?"
Joan visibly restrained her urge to smite, folding her arms stiffly as she took a restraining breath.
"We've come a long way, and are on a tight schedule. What exactly do you need?"
"Ah, well," Van rubbed his palms together briskly, as if cold. "I need a pint from each of you."
"A pint?" Raven drew out, her voice terse. "A pint of what?"
"Doy, blood obviously, little birdy," he beamed. The room was deathly silent; Summer's fingers inched towards her tiger hooks. "So I can make your copies? How are you planning to be in several places at once without copies, eh?"
STRQ didn't exactly relax, however, the likelihood that they were about to collectively jump Van decreased by several factors. Joan rubbed the spot between her eyes like it was the only thing keeping her conscious. Van was completely unflustered, still smiling as he beamed about the room. Nwyfre nodded.
"As he says. Van's copies are completely foolproof. They even mimic your aura for a duration and can utilize Dust, in case those tails get a bit too close. No one will be able to tell on a surface level that they aren't the real thing."
"Huh. Kinda gross," Qrow shrugged finally, cocking his head. "But hey, practical Semblance, I guess."
"Oh yea! Extremely," Van smiled like a used car salesman. Summer's nose twitched, the mild discomfort on her face sharpening. "Now, I brought alcohol swabs – none of you are scared of needles, I hope? No? Good. And after I'm done, you can portal right on back."
"You…aren't going to make them here?" Summer asked slowly. "In front of us?"
Van shook his head, the picture of regret.
"I get performance anxiety."
"Bull-donkey," Summer squinted, ears flat in accusation. Van chuckled, mouthing 'bull-donkey' to himself.
"He'll do it," Nwyfre interceded. She sounded like the embodiment of impatience. "Now get on with it, we're meeting Tormund soon."
"Oh? You two don't want some alone time to catch up?" Joan hummed, the innocence in her voice almost matching her eyes. Nwyfre snorted, her Semblance image disappearing before her voice.
"Hurry up."
Joan made a surprisingly rude gesture that incited titters from the teenagers in the room. Van simply hummed, unpacking the black case he'd pulled from under his cloak; it was full of syringes, tubes and empty blood bags.
"Ok boys and girls! Whose first?"
Taiyang raised his hand, beating out Raven and elbowing her playfully when she huffed at him; Summer meanwhile continued to watch Van from her perch on the room's desk, ears flat and pupils small.
It didn't take too long to gather a pint from the five of them. Van was not merely an expert, he was an artist that could give an emergency room nurse a run for their money; none of them felt the needle, and barely noticed when they were finished.
Van just talked the entire time. He did not ask any personal questions, nor alluded to any information of a personal nature regarding himself. He told stories, mostly, gossip he had gleaned from the mouths of travelers and Hunters alike. He and Qrow got on the most; he and Joan did not talk, but not for a lack of him trying.
Summer did not like Van, but she did not know why. Some deep buried thing in the back of her neck had put her on high alert the moment she saw him, though she had done her absolute best to pretend otherwise. However, the longer they were stuck in the room with him, the more anxious she became. Her hairs were on end, her throat tight; the world kept flickering, an old film that had slowed down so she could see the frames flitter past. Images kept suddenly overlapping one another, as if her periphery vision didn't match what she was physically seeing. She smelled Grimm smoke, faint but fresh.
Van the blood bag man did not seem perturbed by her discomfort whatsoever; even when he took her pulse, he met her eyes and smiled brightly. Summer's eyes narrowed, as the softest warning growl climbed in her throat. Van just winked cheerfully at her.
Yes, something was wrong, but she couldn't place exactly what. He reminded her of Set, but not because he was sly or slick. He wasn't those things, he was instead….offkey. Like a note that was too high or too slow in a sequence. But the longer the music played, the more the errors piled up, creating a song of their own; a hidden message buried in a symphony.
Her nostrils flared again, but then suddenly he was done, bending away from her to clean up.
Are we doing the right thing?
Summer clambered free of the chair, her shoulders high and tense as she engaged her aura, allowing it to heal the puncture and begin to replenish her blood supply at a higher rate. Raven noticed her tension immediately, shooting a questioning glance her way, while Taiyang shuffled closer to her instinctively, placing a warm hand on her shoulder and rubbing the muscles there.
Rescuing the imprisoned skinchangers and getting them beyond the reach of the King's Service was admittedly a good thing. It felt right. But doing things by any means necessary was rarely, if ever, the genuinely good option. Just what kind of a bargain had Nwyfre struck with this guy and his group?
Summer continued to watch Van like a hawk, while Taiyang gave Van several of his focal points, so that they would be able to meet closer to Vale and then make their way back into Burhhurst once everything was said and done. Then it was time to get gone. Joan seemed relieved to be done with sharing oxygen with Van, at least, and Raven quickly opened the portal back to Beacon.
"Wait," Joan paused, one foot in the portal as she turned back to look at Van. "Won't you need to mimic our weapons?"
"That won't be a problem," Van waved the vials at them. "All a part of your platinum package deal! I wouldn't set you all up for failure, Ms Arc, that'd be bad for business."
"Very well. And it's Professor," she corrected and with that she disappeared into the spooky vortex. Qrow and Taiyang went next, and then Raven after Summer nodded for her to go on ahead.
"Well little aetheri, it sure has been a pleasure."
Summer took a firm breath and turned back.
"Listen, just what exactly are-"
The words died in her throat.
His maroon eyes no longer had pupils and the whites had disappeared. Van beamed at her, his smile splitting too wide and too black. Summer was frozen, fear and confusion battling together as another piece of her continuously besieged worldview crumbled. She couldn't speak.
Van finally winked and nodded towards the vortex.
"Good luck with all that. I hope we get to work together again! We were always such fans of your father, you know?"
Summer's ears flattened in horror, white noise building up between her eyes until she forced herself to turn away. When Raven and Tai met her in the wasteland between portals, their faces mirroring concern, Summer was pale as a ghost and shaking. The only lie Summer would ever tell Raven and Taiyang, from that moment until the very end, was that she had simply been feeling faint from having her blood drawn.
Brunoz perched upon the scrappy sapling, shuffling from foot to foot, his long brown feathers fluffing against the dark mountain chill. Below his sapling on the rocky outcropping, he had a birds eye view of the quaint tavern and hotel. Team STRQ and their Professor Arc had been in there all night.
Brunoz was displeased with this assignment, but he was not displeased with the locale at least. He had been scoping the town, noting the market, the smithy, the bookstore; it would be the perfect getaway for him and his boyfriend next month, when he took leave. Azraq loved towns like Burhhurst. He wanted to live in one someday, away from all the hustle and politics of the Kingdoms; and since Azraq was a physician, he would be welcome no matter where he went, so it was quite feasible.
Brunoz could not frown in his hawk form, so he got to settle for looking frustrated. Hawks always look frustrated about something, but he genuinely was overall. Things were complicated in the King's Service. It's not like he could just pick up whenever he wanted and move. He couldn't really travel, and if say, he did go on vacation for a bit, they could recall him at the drop of a pin. He was bound to Vale, whether he wanted to be or not.
Previously, that didn't bother him. He'd always been in the Service. They'd found him as a child, raised him, given him a structure and way of life. They were his family, even if they were a strange, deeply wounded one. He hadn't realized how wounded they were until he had started dating Azraq, and met his family. Then he saw what love was. There was apparently no love in the King's Service.
Except for Bellicose and Adria. They are true soulmates, and no one can tell me differently.
Brunoz considered himself a loyal man. Not perhaps a hard man, or a true soldier at heart, but a loyal man. He did what was asked of him, at least. However, as time went on, and the closer he became to Azraq, the more he started to understand the true nature of his predicament.
The King did not care what happened to Brunoz, no matter how loyal or dutiful Brunoz was. The King did not care what happened to all those people in his basement, either, and ultimately, neither did Verdant. No matter what he said.
Brunoz was of the revolutionary opinion that, like any other service in existence, he should be able to retire. Put in a notice. Refuse to reenlist. Walk away without being sniped from an apartment building while he sat across the street at a cafe with Azraq and got his brain matter splattered into the sorbet they were sharing on a summer afternoon-
He shook himself, a frightened cheep escaping his chest. He took a deep breath to calm himself. The sun would rise soon. Smoke was rising from chimneys, and a few people were up and about, trying to get a jump start on the day. He could smell bread baking, and he briefly fantasized about owning his own bakery in a township far, far from the Kingdom of Vale.
Suddenly, movement on the cobbled streets of Burhhurst. He shook away his dreams, fluffing his feathers again to rouse himself. Team STRQ was on the move, trailing miserably after the petite giant marching ahead of them. She barked at them for their sluggishness and the team jumped to follow closer. It seemed they really, actually were determined to go hunting for Wurdalaks. They would have better luck trying to hunt a damned Jabberwocky.
He screed softly in amusement. This was clearly a wild goose chase that their professors had determined to set the troublemakers on, to teach them a lesson. Pretty funny, but that would rain on Regalia's parade; and she hated the mere suggestion of rain anywhere near her parades.
Personally, Brunoz was glad of it. Kidnapping young Hunters and forcing them into the Service or captivity was absurd. Not only absurd, or cruel, but deeply stupid on her part. Drawing the attention of Ozpin would draw the attention of Witchfingers would see them all dead in a mass grave in the woods; and then his noble Majesty would deny they ever lived or worked for him at all.
That and actually baiting one of the most infamous of the Anima tribes with their children's safety? The tribe that had burned Shigatse to the ground for hoarding resources? Who had butchered that Mistralian Councilman and his entire family in their home in the heart of Mistral? It showed just how big Regalia's head had gotten since that stupid promotion. She was a dog chasing a car, and once she caught it, well. Brunoz just hoped he didn't get pulled under the wheels with her.
The fact that Verdant had gone along with this was also a red flag. Verdant's eyes had changed when Regalia and her stooges briefed him, showing several surveillance snaps of team STRQ. For a full minute he had stared at the photographs, almost touching the hologram with his finger tips. Brunoz had not known what to make of his expression, then; but despite the opposition expressed by several other members, Verdant had given Regalia the green light to go ahead.
Bemusedly, Brunoz knew he would have to call headquarters to update them about STRQ's movements. Maybe they'd let him come back once they realized the young Hunters were not nearly so foolish as they had allowed themselves to believe. However, he was not hopeful.
We are all chasing Wurdalaks today, it seems…
He took to the blushing skies, following the procession at a distance. Brunoz couldn't see the hungry smiles plastered across team STRQ's faces as they exited the gates.
Anima. The Grimm barricade of Chiang Mai's Mh̄ā ṣ̄ers̄ʹṭ̄hī District.
Fortuna yawned, leaning scarred, copper arms across the rough wooden barricade, watching the distant tree-line; they had all been out there earlier, clearing back the brush to make it harder for Grimm and bandits to sneak up to the Settlement's borders. It had taken most of the day. Her arms and back were still desperately sore, and Dust knew she needed a damn drink. However, she needed money first.
Times were rough. They were not just somewhat abrasive, no; times were a sandpaper dildo, no courtesy lube, no kiss good night, rough. She'd been blacklisted for the past three years by the Mistralian Council and therefore could barely get hired for proper work anywhere on the continent of Anima; and she would not be able to legally enter most Kingdoms with that black mark hanging over her head, making it impossible to get a job or live anywhere decent. Save for, perhaps, Vacuo; but man, did she have a lot of enemies in Vacuo.
So here she was, trapped on a continent she hated; stuck pulling guard billets and weird jobs in a port town over-run with sex tourists and the sleazy run-off from other Kingdoms, questioning all of her wonderful life choices. She'd seriously considered taking up some less respectable jobs, so she could save up for a complete identity change and just start the fuck over as far from Mistral as possible.
However, the jobs most available (and disturbingly lucrative) for someone in her position weren't exactly killing Grimm or illegally tanking a few murderous hillbillies; but she had not fallen that far yet, and she was bound and determined that she never would.
No way, no how.
It really was genuinely depressing. She'd become a Huntress originally to help people and keep them safe from monstrous things. But in the end? Fortuna had learned the hard way that it was people that were typically far more repugnant.
She squinted at the tree-line, raising her weapon as the wind picked up and changed directions. She smelled Grimm smoke, faint but lingering. However, there weren't supposed to be any patrols out clearing away the riff raff for another hour. Fortuna frowned. Behind her, her watch-partner was busy fucking about with his scroll, unconcerned. She didn't even bother to see if he was paying attention or not.
The sun was setting. She chewed the plastic- flavored wad of gum in her mouth a little faster as her hazel eyes roved from one shadow to the next. Sunrise and sunset were always dangerous on the wall, because that was when the Grimm got a wild hair up their asses and liked to try some crazy shit. Fortuna had seen some truly bizarre things standing at this very post, more even than the years she'd spent actively Hunting. There was something downright weird about the forests and denizens in south Anima, weirder even than Menagerie, the old forests on Saunus or that stretch of badlands north of Vacuo. Sometimes, she even swore that the Grimm here were smarter than your average dumbass Boarbatusks and Beowolves.
Occasionally, she'd make eye-contact with two red red sparks in the distance, and Fortuna could just swear that they were thinking. Not the same kind of "thinking" as an alpha or a Settlement Killer, but some really, calculative shit. She'd say it was something in the water, but it's not like Grimm drank. Maybe it was radioactive Dust crystals from space, or a government bunker underground, testing their new, secret weapons. Whatever it was, it made the barbarian tribes out here? Downright fucking bonkers. Even the normal animals acted funny, sometimes.
The locals even had a lot of legends and fairytales about these woods, too; to account for the strange things that went on in them. One of the more popular tales was that of a curse, laid down upon the forest by a vengeful spirit, or an angry witch (the story often changed) to make the people act like Grimm, and the Grimm like people. Fortuna didn't know about all that; but there was definitely some inexplicable energy about the place, so she couldn't blame people for believing it.
Besides the regular folktales, there were semi-regular reports of normal people going missing entirely, only to reappear days or even weeks later; sometimes alive, other times dead, but with no memory of where they'd been or the time that had passed. The Hunters and law enforcement always blamed the Grimm, or bandits, or trauma, during these cases, even if there was no evidence of such; the locals, though, said it was something else. However, they never really dared name just what 'it' was.
Government bunkers, I bet my entire ass on it….
Suddenly, something fast and small darted down from the tree branches and back into the violet shadows of the evening forest. Fortuna stared hard, her eyes roving carefully over the ground as she chewed her gum relentlessly; several minutes passed, and nothing changed, save the sun sinking even lower. She tried to relax as she studied the odd forest, thinking about what Grimm might be roving about under its branches.
Weird or not, there was something pure about a Grimm that she almost preferred to deal with, compared to the other ugliness she encountered in this line of work. A Grimm, despite potential human tampering, was only ever a Grimm. It was single minded in its obsession, uncomplicated. It didn't lie about what it was, or what it did; it didn't destroy your livelihood out of spite or politics. It didn't enslave other Grimm, or rape, or start wars over resources. A Grimm killed people, and that was it.
But people? Humans and faunus? Man, they could do, would do, literally anything and everything. People were exhausting, and Fortuna was fucking tired of them. If she could, she would just find a deserted island in the middle of the ocean and live there for the rest of her life. Maybe someday.
She exhaled slowly, thoughts drifting to the tavern near her hostel, when her arms suddenly broke out in gooseflesh. A light in the distance, deep behind the tree-line. Fortuna lifted her binoculars, hunkering down instinctively. It looked like a single lantern. Suddenly, a shout went up along the wall, as hundreds and hundreds of lanterns ignited in the forest like faerie lights.
A breath later, fire Dust rounds, dozens of them, exploded in synchronized succession across the wooden and granite barricade. Smoke promptly obscured visibility along the wall, as the outer layers of pine and spruce caught flame. She tried to get her bulky Hard Light rifle positioned into the sniper bolt closest her, when she felt her goosebumps break out again.
Grimm were charging the barricade in a black mass, writhing over the field with a fervor that nearly made her pause. They were just lower level Beowolves, Creeps, Abus and Boarbatusks by the looks of them, even if there was a lot of the bastards; but scattered intermittently were the unmistakable blurs of Sabres, weaving over the field, dodging bullets and obstacles; Fortuna realized that there was something red and blinking strapped to all of their backs.
"HOLD YOUR FI-" she tried to warn, before the wind was knocked from her lungs.
A high pitched, squealing ring in her hears. Her face and nose hurt, and she'd covered her eyes instinctively with her hands. Her fingers pulled back without the feel of blood, and she felt a bubble of relief rise in her chest. Fortuna's aura had activated after she'd been face planted into the ground, shielding her from the jagged splinters and debris, but not saving her ears from some fresh tinnitus.
She felt more explosions and saw the plumes of yellow and orange, to the north east and then the west; shouts went up in the tree line as the initially Grimm wave slowed down. However, rolling, unnatural smoke was flooding out of the forest now, covering everything.
"Shit! Shit in your mother's ass!" screamed Shojohi, her watch partner. She could barely hear him over her tinnitus, which meant he had to be bellowing his lungs out. He'd started firing wildly at the distant whooping and hollering after he climbed back to his feet, his own forehead bleeding freely. "I fucking loath – oh you cunts – I fucking HAAAATE Branwen!"
Well shit.
She propped her rifle up on the barricade wall and started carving force-fields into the air, raising temporary, hard light barriers. She could maintain up to fifteen at a time, and switch between field creation and the regular Dust ammunition barrel. One of her simplest, yet most effective, strategies was just trapping a group of people or Grimm in a quickly made box and shooting them all a second later.
However, she knew from experience that this would make her an immediate target for the raiders below. Not only was she a complete pain in the ass for any people trying to approach a fortified encampment, but Hard Light Dust was a considerable prize in these parts; her rifle would sell for an exorbitant amount on any market. She even had to make the ammunition herself. The only reason she hadn't sold it by now was for the slowly shrinking nugget of sentimental value and social status it used to represent.
"Shojo!" she shouted, ducking down as a bullet rushed by out of the smoke.
"Your fathers all impregnated sheep, you Grimm humping beast-tards!"
Fortuna rolled her eyes.
"Shojohi!"
"What?!" he screamed, firing off a furious stream of bullets before ducking down himself. "Finger a whore's slit, Fortuna, I'm busy!"
"We need-" Fortuna was cut off as the barricade shook with several more impacts. "-to move!"
"Not before I shoot the tits off that black-pubed, faunus loving, Nevermore fucking, sow of a-"
The wall shook again, as yet another merry monster cat exploded against it. She could hear sirens going off in the Settlement and knew that neighboring Districts would soon take measures to seal themselves off from the compromised Mh̄ā ṣ̄ers̄ʹṭ̄hī District. In the streets below, she could hear drunks shoving and stumbling out of their watering holes and strip clubs, slurring panicked pleas at the police who were trying to shove them out of the way of the firefighters and the equally inebriated Hunters who had, also, been visiting their favorite spots when shit popped off.
Here they come, and I'm stuck up here with this idiot. He's going to get me killed.
"-DO YOU IMBREEDS HEAR ME?! Come get a taste of a real man's cock!"
Large swathes of the barricade were now on fire, even as the teams that patrolled the wall tried to extinguish it with water and a few lucky Semblances. The regular guardsmen were firing gunpowder bullets into the swarm, for gods sakes. Chiang Mai had next to nothing in terms of Dust stores, let alone anti-Grimm defense systems, largely due to issues with the Settlement's love of embezzlement and poor distribution of resources. That's why they cheerfully hired so many blacklisted Hunters to patrol their boundaries and do their dirty work; all that desperate muscle typically made up for it.
The problem with that strategy, however, is that blacklisters are all technically mercenaries, with only their lives left to lose. Behind them, Mh̄ā ṣ̄ers̄ʹṭ̄hī District, also known as the rich man's playground, was full of fat, wealthy tourists and hilariously discrete businessmen from Mistral and Atlas, enjoying the lax rules of the literal playground Chiang Mai's ruling elite had crafted for them. Every single one of those buildings were full of the sorts of people who had ultimately betrayed Hunters like Fortuna and Shojohi to begin with.
"Oi mate!" a voice called up from below "Come let me get some of that dick then!"
"S'it cock tasting hours already?!" yelped another. "Alright! Come on then, lads!"
"Get in line, bangers!" growled a third.
"But Natey, the early birds get the worm!"
"I'll get your worm if you don't fuckin move!"
"Oohoho yes! Harder, papa bear!"
"Quit it!"
They're climbing the wall. The only reason they'd bother climbing the wall here, when there's several smoking holes in it further along, would be to take me and my rifle out of the equation as quick as possible; and Shojohi's screaming is just going to keep pulling more and more of them.
As Shojohi howled in fury, a stream of epithets flowing freely from his mouth, Fortuna continued to raise hard-light barriers; but at a much slower, thoughtful pace. She could abandon her post and go try to patch up the holes in the wall, but the sound of screaming and snarling indicated that there was a fight already engaged at the breach. If she went there, she'd just make herself a target; they'd kill her and still take the damn rifle. The billowing smoke from the explosions and shadows had completely obscured her field of vision beyond a few feet, and she was coughing freely.
Her Semblance relied on her touching the bare skin of another person and allowed her to paralyze one individual at a time. It was useful in specific scenarios, but not in large numbers like this, when everyone was wearing body armor; and it was useless against Grimm.
I knew I should have gone into Dust Engineering-
Her thoughts screeched to a halt as Shojohi stuck his head over the barricade and tossed a Dust grenade down, into the invisible, whooping demons below.
"Suck that then!"
Fortuna felt panic blossom under her green chest plate, eyes shooting wide in the smoke.
"No – Shojo, you idiot!" she coughed.
"Ok!" laughed a voice from the dark. The Dust grenade came back up, bouncing and rolling towards Shojohi's boots. In the sky above, a Nevermore screamed its violent song. Fortuna didn't hesitate, pointing the muzzle of her rifle towards Shojo and firing; a Hard Light barrier sprang up between them both as the grenade burst.
The force of the grenade eventually broke through the field, sending glittering clusters of Dust infused nanobots scattering to the wind; however, most of the explosion was redirected instead in the other direction. Shojohi was shredded pork barbeque, smeared along the walkway; what was left of his intestines dangled over the edge of another sizable hole appeared in the barricade, and the battlefield rose in noise and ferocity at the result. Fortuna coughed, stumbling to her feet, aura blazing.
In the parting smoke, she saw several figures pulling themselves up, utilizing anything from weapons to grappling hooks. She fired off another barrier, sealing them off from herself, turned and ran in the other direction. If she could reach the stairs or a safe place to jump from the wall to a rooftop below, then perhaps she could regroup with the raging clusterfuck that was Chiang Mai's security force.
Or maybe, it was time to simply cut her losses and get the fuck out of dodge? It's not like they paid her enough to deal with this and she could just feel the other mercenaries bolting for cover already.
She skidded to a stop just in time. A blade curved out of the smoke to her left, as a black shadow vaulted out of the smoke and over the wall. Fortuna saw a white Grimm mask and knew-
Shit, shit, shit!
-that she was going to die if she fought back.
The person staring at her – through her, into her- was covered head to toe in black, grey and red armor and body paint. The Grimm helm was pale as corpse bones. Fortuna could not see the eyes of the person behind the infamous skull mask, and their hair was hidden by a cowl of Nevermore feathers. But they were wielding rather infamous twin green Dust blades.
Fortuna took a slow breath, before she set the rifle down without taking her eyes off the Morrigan, raising her hands carefully.
"Take it."
The Morrigan tilted her head, staring at her.
"I don't want to fight for them. Just…take the damn thing."
That part of my life has brought me nothing but trouble anyways.
The wall shook. She could hear Grimm pouring into the streets behind her and could not find it in herself to care. A green katana blade rested under her chin suddenly, as the Morrigan knelt to take the rifle and stand once again; the Hard Light rifle, which Fortuna had never bequeathed with a name, was tossed to waiting hands behind her shoulders. There was a short pause, but it felt like an eternity.
"Go. Tell everyone you meet what you saw here," voiced the helmet. Despite the echo, the voice was almost lyrical.
Then the raiders were gone, vaulting wildly down into the churning, smoke covered chaos below, taking her rifle and the last vestige of her previous life with them.
Fortuna didn't look back once.
...
Thanks to WhatOtherPlanet for the beta, and all ya'll for stickin around. I'll try to have next chapter out soon. Again, take of yourselves, yea?