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"When in doubt, empty your magazine."

-Murphy's Military Laws

Chapter 18: Fight

"Begin!"

Jaune had been mulling over how to go through with the fight for a bit now.

Tear gas was out. While Striker Group was famous for its use of it, nobody even knew about Striker Group outside of certain circles, which didn't exactly make sense to tip that off in an ego spar. The second reason was this was a training ring in an enclosed space, with observers on one side of the ring.

Not exactly the most opportune place to use it.

Which left just about all the other gear they were issued for anti-Aura use.

Cardin didn't budge from his place, opening his mouth to speak. Presumably to taunt him, maybe explain, maybe monologue, maybe yell at him. It didn't matter in the end.

The moment the words left Goodwitch's mouth, his rifle was already up and pointed at Cardin.

Cardin's mouth gaped, arm moving to block in seemingly slow motion.

Jaune depressed the trigger.

His rifle barked, unloading a cascade of blasts as he unloaded round after round into Cardin. The muzzle flash alone was enough to make anyone looking cringe away, but angled horizontally to not blind the shooter.

Cardin staggered back, rounds pinging off his Aura enhanced armour, bringing up his steel bracers to block incoming bullets. His head snapped back as he teetered on the balls of his feet.

The last bullet left his barrel, and the bolt locked back, a click heard from his rifle. The magazine dropped to the ground as his index finger hit the mag release, and his support hand went to his mag pouch.

Cardin took the opportunity as it was, launching into a charge to close the distance between the two of them, mace reared back in both hands to strike. Jaune fumbled with the magazine at the last moment, jamming it in just as Cardin on him.

Jaune looked up to see the mace mid swing, right at his face.

Instinct took over, starting to sidestep the slow, almost clumsy attack. Alabaster's sword had been far swifter, and far less forgiving than Cardin in the present. His rifle dropped from his hands, left unchambered as Crocea Mors swept out of its sheath. The shield unfolded around the sword, his offhand coming up to grasp the shield straps just as the mace slammed right into him.

The familiar force, from so many months ago, impacted into his unfolding shield just as she got a grip on it, except it was tenfold. Jaune nearly crumbled under the weight of the strike, knees buckling as his sword came free of the shield. The sheer force of it probably took a good chunk out of his Aura.

Jaune angled the shield, pushing it upwards to force the mace to slide off it. Crocea Mors whistled as it jabbed forward, plunging towards Cardin's abdomen.

Of course, it skittered off, as it would. But it'd put a dent in his Aura, and that was the deciding matter.

Cardin recovered from his strike, mace bouncing on the ground as he pulled it back to him. Jaune didn't take a moment's break, thrusting forth his shield arm, driving the corner of it right into Cardin's face.

Half turned away trying to control the momentum of his previous strike, Cardin didn't have an opportunity to avoid the strike.

A yelp left Cardin's mouth as he staggered back. Jaune tossed his sword to his shield hand, grasping at the handle with his fingers tips while his main hand went to another of his anti-Aura weapons. The electric stun baton.

Aura only protected from physical damage, and only where the user focused it, and sometimes the entire body if the user was skilled enough. Electricity would travel throughout the body, not just the surface.

The crackle of electricity running up and down the baton was Cardin's only warning as he clutched his face, seemingly thinking his opponent would let him recover, just like every other time.

There were no breaks, ever.

Always press the assault when you can, Arc. If you let the enemy recover while you can still mount an effective attack, you're fucking up somewhere

The baton made contact just as Cardin turned back, mace already halfway in the air to counterattack whatever Jaune was throwing at him. It was too late as the stun baton touched the metallic armour worn by Cardin.

It covered him head to toe.

Jaune had made sure to thumb the power switch to just under lethal amounts.

Electricity coursed through Cardin, conducted by the same armour that purportedly protected him. His muscles involuntarily spasmed, twitching as they seized from the shock. Jaune knew that Aura users would be able to recover fairly quickly, up to ten seconds usually, so he reared back the baton for another strike, ready to send Cardin into another fit of spasms.

Jaune was about to bring the baton down when he was suddenly knocked aside. Head swirling, he found himself a few feet away, coming to a sliding stop on the ground. His immediate reaction was to flip to his back, shield moving to block any follow through.

Cardin was still struggling to bring himself up, but his mace laid on the ground a few feet away, just so that it could've been that he swung and let go. Crocea Mors skidded across the sparring ring, knocked out of his loose grip by the strike.

The baton was dropped, to be replaced by his sidearm. The entire magazine was dumped into the back of Cardin's head, drawing out more spasms and yells.

They'd all been issued stun ammunition for their pistols. If anyone got rowdy, they could draw their sidearms and do their best to disable the aggressors.

It did its job, stopping Cardin long enough for Jaune to get to his feet.

The moment the slide clicked back empty, the sidearm was tossed aside. There was no point in trying to reload the weapon, it would just take up precious time.

Instead, he charged forward, shield pulled back and prime to strike.

I don't care what you hit, Arc. Just make sure it fucks the other dude up long enough that you can kill him.

Jaune launched himself onto Cardin, shield corner pushing forward right into his throat.

You're pretty shit at grappling, but you're pretty good at bashing shit to death. Go with that instead.

Cardin had been knocked away, head furthest from him, his feet closest. He reared his arms up like a boxer, covering mostly his face as his legs pushed against Jaune, struggling to push away.

Jaune tried to sidestep his opponent's legs, but the opponent lashed out with a leg, hitting him squarely in his chest. Jaune staggered back, clutching at his chest.

Shit! That was hard!

Jaune looked up, only to see his opponent had gotten up, already charging him. They both fell to the ground, Cardin on top, and Jaune desperately clawing at his eyes. Cardin punched his face a few times in the face, slamming Jaune's head repeatedly into the ground. Fighting through his swirling head, he grabbed onto the opponent's armour, hoping to throw him off using the vague memory of a throw he learned in basic.

Cardin grabbed on too.

They rolled on the ground, a tumble of ferocious kicks, punches as strikes. Jaune was pretty sure he headbutted the opponent a few times, but he couldn't quite remember. Probably a result of that. They fought still, the opposition jabbing at his throat, clawing at his eyes. The desperate struggle between the two continued as they scrambled on the ground.

Finally, they stopped, Jaune in a mount position, shield pressed against the enemy's throat while his fist went to work, punching his face over and over again.

"Mr. Arc, his Aura is in the red, the round is complete."

His fist went in for another striker on the defeated opponent. No mercy, no quarter. If you did, then the enemy might get up later and cause you problems. Training, right? To preserve momentum in a raid, they needed to make sure the dead were really dead. Jaune didn't find it particularly tasteful, but it could cost his friend's lives.

It could cost them their lives.

Lavender nearly died because… because he wasn't good enough then.

Since you're so good at beating shit to death, try concentrating your Aura into your fists, make 'em hit harder.

"-round is complete, Mr. Arc."

The lights suddenly came on, previously spotlights focused solely on them. His fist was raised high up, poised to striker the defeated Cardin. It glowed, imbued with his Aura to striker harder. It probably could've killed Cardin right there and then.

The round was complete.

Cardin wasn't an enemy anymore.

Heavy breathing, a sigh of relief, and utter silence from the onlooking students.

Jaune stood up, walking over to where his discarded weapons laid.

"Did you not hear me the first time, Mr. Arc?" Goodwitch raised an eyebrow, stern expression present.

Nodding, "Yeah, didn't hear you."

"Hmph," she looked away, and to the Aura displays above. His own Aura was only the edge of yellow, still a healthy green, while Cardin's was dangerous close to nothing. "As you can see, Mr. Arc won by Aura exhaustion. In a tournament setting, this would result in a victory, but Mr. Arc is more concerned with the real world, aren't you?"

Jaune paused midway in picking up his shock baton, "Huh? Yeah. You either kill the other guy, or he kills you." he recited, parroting off what Moss had tirelessly drilled into their heads. Tyrian popped into his mind briefly. "That or you run away. Taking them alive usually isn't a consideration unless necessary."

All this in a monotone. All the rage had been bled earlier. Had he really considered Cardin an enemy? Jaune frowned, slamming his sidearm back into its holster.

Goodwitch spoke quickly, "Now, as Huntsmen and Huntresses, you'll have to eventually deal with killing. That isn't a concept we want to thrust upon first years usually, but have that in the back of your mind, because it will be a possibility. You'll often be called on to hunt down criminals or the such. Though we'll give you the necessary training in later years to take them alive. Mr. Arc?"

"Hm?"

"I do ask that you and your entourage depart as quickly as possible. That or stay off to the side so you don't distract my students. I still have a class to teach."

Jaune gathered up the last piece of the discarded equipment, the magazine he dropped at the beginning, before making his way to the steps.

"Arc!"

Cardin propped himself up, supporting himself on a hand.

"Yeah?"

His glare burnt a hole in his head, "That didn't count. The electric baton wasn't fair and was a coward's weapon. I'm still going to fight you after. No weapons, just us."

"Yeah, yeah," a dismissive wave as he stepped off the stage. "If it's a fair fight, you're doing it wrong."

Everyone was silent as he walked up the steps, though Pyrrha reached out to grab his arm from the aisle. He looked down at her in her seat, cocking his head, "What's up, Pyr?"

"You didn't actually mean to kill him, right?" emerald eyes met blue. "I'm a professional fighter. Near the end you were losing yourself. What happened?"

"I..." didn't know, "guess I got a bit into the fight. Probably from all the training I got. They make you aggressive in training because we just gotta be like that to fight without any doubts."

She released his hand, still looking up at him with worried emerald eyes, "Alright, just… make sure to restrain yourself. I don't want to see you become like some other people I've met."

A smile, "Gotcha. Talk to you later?"

Pyrrha let a broad smile onto her face, "Sure."

"Seeya," and he continued walking up the stairs, towards Jay and Alabaster.

Jaune made it to the top of the stairs, brushing off some dirt off his sleeve, and checking one final time he had everything on him, "So uh, that was a thing."

"A thing?" Jay said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You nearly beat my brother to death!"

He massaged his face, before looking up again, "It was a controlled fight, okay? We got Glynda Goodwitch here, and his Aura still had enough to protect him. I beat him, and the only thing he seemed mad about was that I used the shock stuff on him. This was a training spar, nobody was in danger."

"You went past when she said to stop!" his words came out hushed, Jay throwing looks over to shoulder to look at the benches behind him.

"I didn't hear it the first time, you happy now? I didn't mean to go that far, but a certain someone taught me to keep going until the other guy was dead."

Alabaster put his hands up, "Hey, he's right. Shoot until the other guy is dead. Though I see that I have to teach you some restraint apparently because you went ham on that kid."

Jay sighed, rubbing his face with both hands, "Alright, fine. No point in trying to argue over a spar. Ah fuck man..." a pause and a breath. "This won't help me trying to turn him, you know that. He'll just want to fight you again, and I sure as hell don't want that. If he comes to you, can you just call me over? As long as he doesn't do it in class, and Captain Alabaster doesn't barge in… no offence, sir."

"None taken."

Jaune glanced behind him, Pyrrha was walking down the aisle, and some silver haired guy right behind. Huh, he didn't remember him before. Must be an exchange student. Regardless, he turned back to Jay, "I'll try my best, though I think I probably will have to unless you manage to convince him otherwise."

"Trust me, I will."

"We'll see," a turn to Alabaster, who'd been standing about and listening the entire time. 'So, sir, what do we have next?"

Alabaster scratched his chin, "Uh, we're going to do some more familiarization with the TOC and make sure everyone knows the protocols in place. After that, Ozpin wants to talk to you."

Ah, "What about?"

"The uh," Alabaster's eyes flicked around behind them, "special Contract. Just some mundane stuff apparently. He wants to work out the smaller details. On another note, we just got tactical maps up, lemme show you on my scroll."

The scroll expanded, showing a brief image of three people together, like a happy family. Alabaster swore, before tapping an icon, fading the previous image away to show a benign notes app.

"What was that?" Jay cocked an eye up at Alabaster. "Kind of looked like you there."

He grimaced, "My wife and kid. Estranged. They live in Atlas. I still get to see my kid every once in a while. Still love 'em like hell though."

"Sorry."

"Don't be, anyways, here's the map..."

They talked, they looked over at the scroll, and the fight below apparently ended with Pyrrha's victory. The Tactical Map was interesting and was essentially a 3D model of Beacon for every inch. It had taken a whole bunch of drones mapping everything, but they had a model in the end. Pyrrha's fight wasn't surprising, as the opponent said, she was a world renowned fighter. As they walked out of the combat hall, they failed to notice one thing.

Emerald Sustrai hummed pleasantly from her seat, even getting a few good glances at the contractors unseen by any of them.

Cinder would be pleased.

/ - /

"Gimme a range for that uh… tower over there."

Vi glanced over at Lavender, cocking her head, "Which one? There's like, ten."

Lavender pulled her eye out of the scope, glaring at her, "I only brought you up here to make rangecards because I wanted someone to talk to during this. So could you be helpful at least?"

"Still doesn't specify which tower you want me to range."

"Ugh," Lavender massaged her nose. "See that one? At our 3 'o clock."

Lifting up the rangefinder, she held down the lase button, "Six-hundred metres."

Lavender picked up a pencil, scribbling down something on the range card on the ground beside her.

They both were in a tower overlooking the area surrounding the CCT. Lavender laid prone on the ground, rifle in front of her, and various other range cards, spotting scope, and writing materials strewn about. Vi sat cross legged just behind, rangefinder in one hand, and her head resting in her other.

Vi rolled her shoulders, letting the rangefinder rest in her lap, "Weren't you like, really adamant that you weren't a sniper? Didn't want anyone confusing you with one, and now this is what's happening?"

Lavender flipped back her hair out of her face, deadpanning at her, "This is well in my responsibilities. When we're doing a static defence and everything can be pre setup, and we have a lack of actual snipers on-site, marksmen can fill the role of static long guns in a high tower. I mean, we still have snipers ready, but they asked me if I can supplement them."

"The last time you did this you were in a hospital for a few days."

She stopped scribbling on her rangecard for a moment, pencil starting to shake in her hand before it calmed, "I thought you were over that."

"Hey, hey! I am!" her hands went up in surrender. "I just thought doctrine didn't have you doing this stuff."

"Only if needed."

Silence while both sisters sat and laid there uncomfortably. Lavender twiddled a pencil in her fingers, while Vi tapped on her knees in an unheard beat.

"So uh… speaking of Jaune," she began. "How goes your crush on him?"

Lavender groaned, flipping onto her back as her hands furiously rubbed her face, "Why did I tell you about that?"

"Hey! I didn't even tease you then! It's a genuine question because if I'm reading the signs right, there's someone over there that has her eyes on him too."

Lavender pouted, crossing her arms just under her breasts, propping them up, "If Jaune wasn't so fucking oblivious then this wouldn't even be something we're talking about. Pyrrha's been showing so many signs even I can see. How can someone be so oblivious?"

Shrug, "Do you think I understand boys?"

"No."

"Fair. Are you even trying though?"

Her eyes snapped up to her, "Huh?"

"Dunno, why don't you just..." a pause. "Just ask him out or something?"

Lavender rolled her eyes, sliding back to rest her back to the back of the wall behind her, "You ever had a crush on someone before? No, you haven't. I don't wanna ask him out in case he doesn't like or something… like, ugh! Plus we're working together, what if he rejects me? What then? Then it's all awkward and stuff."

"So… you're just shy?"

"Ugh!" she propped her head upon her elbows. "I mean… there's another thing..."

She scratched her chin, "What?"

"Is this just a childish crush, or do I actually like him?"

Laughter erupted from her throat, drawing a confused look from Lavender. Vi stifled the rest, smirking as she responded, "That's what you're worried about? Really?"

A low whine from Lavender, bringing her knees up to her face, "Can you not laugh at my internal struggles? I thought big sisters were supposed to help their siblings."

Giggling, bringing a hand to her mouth as she laid back on the ground, braid falling loosely onto the ground, "Alright, lemme think for a sec..."

A short pause scratching her face, "Why do you like him? You never told me why, just that you liked him."

"Helped me in Basic, was really nice and supportive," she said immediately, pupils flicking to the top of her eyes. Her cheeks turned pink with her next words. "A-and he's kinda cute, in the dorky kind of way. Plus he saved me that one time, so uh… and don't you say that!" her eyes flared as she held out a finger. "Don't fucking say it was his fault. Well, maybe it was but he made a mistake."

"Hey I wasn't going to say anything!" her hands flew up in surrender, which seemed to calm Lavender down.

"A-also… uh… spending time with him is nice. I like that he wants to do good in the world. Not enough people like that. And uh… dunno. Is really all that I like about him that he's nice and cute? Ugh!"

In one hand, Vi grabbed her water bottle, sipping at its contents, "You know what he likes to do in his free time? His hobbies?"

"Yeah, uh..." her face went blank. "Fuck."

"You never asked, have you?"

"Not my fault he never does any of his hobbies and is always doing dumb work stuff," Lavender mumbled, hanging her head,

Almost angelic laughter rang out in the tower they were in. Vi stifled the last one, "You don't really know him, do you?"

Her head hung even more.

"Alright, here's a proposal. Just something. What if, stay with me for a second. What if you just say friends for a bit, just to get to know him better and all that." Lavender started opening her mouth, before Vi index came forward, pressing against her lips in a shushing manner. "Wait a second for me to finish. You can still get closer to him and stuff. Fuck, I think you could probably kiss Jaune and he wouldn't think you like him. Use this opportunity to know him better, which you obviously haven't been doing. Plus you can figure out if you actually like him in this time. Plus company policy doesn't allow people in the same units to be in relationships unless it happened before. So you gotta wait regardless."

Lavender shut her eyes, sighing, "Alright, I guess I'll give that a shot. What about that bitch Pyrrha though? What if she goes after him first?"

"Lavender, think about it. She actually has a few months to go after him if she really wanted to. So I say she's just about as shy as you."

"She had like, a month. I have like, seven months or something," Lavender almost snarled. "What if that fucker steals him away from me?"

More giggles, "Relaaaaaxxxxx, If you haven't officially started dating, then they're free game."

"Guess you're right..." Lavender ran a hand through her hair before pausing. "Wait, how do you know the company policy about dating?"

"For you. Gotta be a big sister and all."

"Hm..."

An unnatural smile appeared on Vi's face, "What do you feel about the secret mission stuff?"

"You're avoiding the question."

Shrug, "Maybe."

"You're not going to answer?"

Just a smile.

Lavender groaned, scooting on her butt towards her rifle, "Fine, but if we're going to talk, might as well get some work done."

"So what do I think, hm..." Lavender shifted the rifle buttstock in her shoulder, settling into her prone position. "I think we're going to be doing some probably immoral things."

"No shit. We're basically going to be being a discount Intel Wing."

"We also haven't even talked to Iris and Cedric since Basic. I mean, I wasn't even that great of friends with them, to be honest. Iris was nice, but Cedric was always off doing his own thing. Kind of a scary guy if I have to say. Who knows what they've been doing while we've been doing our own thing?"

"Assassinations?" she suggested.

The marksman swung her rifle, moving it to face another direction, "Gimme a range on that small concrete statue closer to use. I estimate a hundred metres."

"Uh..." click, lase, then a number showed up in the rangefinder. "Hundred five metres."

Sighing from her sister, "What I'm worried about is Jaune."

"Aside from the normal worry?"

"Like, he's the guy that wants to do good. You know too. Do you think he can do what we're going to be doing? Like, snatching guys off streets and shoving them into vans? Actually, has any of us actually killed anyone yet?"

Uneasiness came onto her face, "Maybe Thistle, but I don't think anyone has actually had a confirmed kill."

"Exactly," her hand gestured around, setting the rifle down on the ground. "I'm just worried one of us will hesitate and get someone hurt."

"Do you think you could do it?"

Hesitation, "Probably. I'd like to think I could if one of us was in danger. But nobody really knows, do they?"

"No, we really don't."

They sat in relative silence.

"So… how about we keep talking about your love life?"

"Please don't. Can't we just do our jobs like we're supposed to?"

"Hm, how you would feel if you were right next to him, all alone in a room, and you knew that nobody would interrupt you. And then he starts to lean on you, all ti-"

Lavender groaned, rubbing her face, "Viiiii, please stop."

"No," smirking.

"Ugh! You're impossible!"

"Exactly, Well, let's get back to work, and talk about your love life."

"What about yours?" Lavender asked with a raised eyebrow.

Vi opened her mouth for a second, before shutting it the next, "Alright let's just work then."

Lavender settled down behind her rifle, a smug smile the last thing Vi saw before Lavender turned away from her, and towards her rifle "That's what I thought."

/ - /

"Chief, I got sight on the target," whispered Ivers into his mic. The mask stopped people not in the comm net from hearing him, but the habit of whispering was hard to break anyways. He adjusted his rifle resting on a stout concrete barrier, looking down on a black asphalt road that was littered with burnt out husks of cars, the former visage of human expansion.

His target walked down the road, head held tall and exotic mechashift weapons held in hand. Draped in a tattered cloak, eyes skittering around, it was obvious this Huntsman wasn't unskilled, if not entirely smart.

If you could choose between walking down an open road, and sneaking through buildings, and chose the road, you were stupid. Ivers didn't let that entirely affect his judgement. The Huntsman was probably just on a routine Grimm clearance mission and didn't expect them to be here. Maybe he didn't want to go into the buildings in case he got ambushed by Grimm.

No chance though. Roman made it clear that he wanted no interruptions in his work. This Huntsman had just entered their interdiction zone. Maybe it was just coincidence, but Ivers had been told it probably wasn't.

He was walking away from them, unknowing of the hunters that'd been tracking him for hours. Even if he did turn around, all he'd find was an empty road. It'd take an experienced sniper to spot their concealed position in the shadows with a glance. If all else failed, there always was the invisibility trick given to them by their employers.

Shuffling just behind him. A glance left showed Chief coming up to his side, rifle coming to rest on the same concrete barrier his was, "Nice spotting. Damn, seven hundred metres. Looks like we finally found our quarry. Pinging him on the Tac view. Verda, you got him?"

Verda's voice spoke into his ear as if he was right next to him. Yet, he wasn't, "Yeah, I'm ahead of him right now. Guess going ahead to canvass the area for signs did pay off in the end," a harsh chuckle. "Say we do a pincer maneuver and capture this guy?"

"You two get in position, I need to contact Arberwood to update him. We're pretty far away right now so I need to get up top to get in comms. Buildings are blocking comms pretty well," Chief tapped the radio strapped onto his chest with a finger. "Use that invisibility shit to close in. Don't need to spook him early."

"Yeah, yeah, I wasn't born yesterday," A few taps on his forearm, and Iver's cloaked figure disappeared from view, only a shimmer betraying his presence.

As Ivers made his way through the littered street, he made sure to not disturb any trash on the floor, if only due to instinct. Invisibility sure made sneaking up on people a lot easier. He once asked why their platoon were being provided with this invisibility tech, instead of the creator making a killing selling to Atlas.

"Well Ivers," Arberwood said, cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth. "Do you think someone working with us would sell it to Atlas?"

"Huh."

"Think before you say anything stupid next time."

So he approached the Huntsman, carefully, and slowly. Getting a closer look at their target revealed much more grizzled features, and most importantly of all, the target checked his six constantly. Every time the target looked back, Ivers froze, silent steps a product of practice and training. Soon, he was only a few metres away, close enough to make out his face every time he looked back.

Verda's position was highlighted in his mask, outlined in a yellow glow, "Verda, you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Kneecap the fucker?"

"I'll take his right, you take his left. From his perspective. Check crossfire. If he has Aura up, just blast him until your mag goes dry, and I'll rush him."

"No flashbangs?"

"He's a Huntsman in a Grimm infested area. Chances are he'll manage to evade and we'll lose the element of surprise."

Verda's chuckle came through the intranet, "Of course, on your mark."

Ivers adjusted his rifle against his shoulder, aiming squarely at the back of his knees, "Ready, three, two, one, mark."

With a word spoken in the calmest of tones, Ivers depressed his trigger.

The Huntsmen flicked his head around to him.

The invisibility flickered, then shutting off completely from the initial burst. Verda's cloaked form suddenly appeared just in front of the target, positioned on the same side of the street as Ivers so as to not accidentally shoot each other. The suppressed hiss from their rifles was the only warning.

Yet, the target leaped away, dodging both bursts.

Iver stood now, shifting his aim to the target, who'd now fully brought out his weapon. Trained precision had every single round land right in his face, fully automatic. Verda did the same, but with noticeably less accuracy.

The suppressor on his rifle lent to the long string of hisses, rather than the terrifying noise of a fully automatic burst, the sounds echoed around the closed space, travelling up and down the roads like messengers of Ragnarok. Instead of it telling of death awaiting this way, it told of a quick and silent death.

The target wasn't about to let bullets smack against his skull with no consequence, for he drew forth his weapon. A massive longsword, intricate mechashift mechanism in its handle. Rushing forward, his sword blocked a shot here and there, but Iver shifted around, constantly readjusting to different angles. Some impacted his shoulder, and a flash from the crossguard of the sword, but the Huntsman leapt forward.

In a split second, the target was on him. Ivers yelped as he sidestepped in a futile attempt to avoid the strike. The sword slashed through the air, slicing through the little fabric on his plate carrier and skidding off the ceramic plate. Ivers raised his elbows up so the sword would cleanly pass by without hitting anything else. He needed to make distance because he and this guy fast, lest he be chopped to tiny ribbons.

But at the very last moment, the sword tip caught onto his side. It was as if the target put all his force into it at the last second because Ivers practically flew.

It was a good ten metres through a nearby wall. Ivers groaned, landing harshly on the desolate concrete floor of a long abandoned house. He reflexively did a backwards roll, smoothly coming into a crouch. Ivers moved forward, reloading his rifle as he peeked out to get a look of the fight.

The target was a flurry of slashes, lunges, and jabs. Verda was fought back with a combat knife, stumbling back from the relentless assault. Verda was their best CQB expert aside from Arberwood, and the Huntsman made fighting him look like child's play.

Fuck bringing him in alive.

His hand fell to his hip, thumbing off the strap holding his sidearm to his holster. One smooth movement had a massive handcannon pointed directly at the Huntsman head. Intricate engravings were as plentiful as war merchants in the world, and as deadly too.

The Magic Cannon wouldn't kill someone with full Aura.

Too bad they just dumped at least two full rifle magazines into the target beforehand.

One shot. Smoke blasted out from the barrel, the fireball as big as his head. The target lurched forward mid swing, collapsing onto the ground, weapons clattering as it skid across the ground. His arm jerked back despite every effort not to. A visible silver disappeared off his Aura meter too.

"Verda, you alright?" Ivers limped forward, shoving The Magic Cannon back into its holster. He'd use it more, if not for the cost of the ammo and the fact that it hurt to shoot. "Looks like the fucker got you good."

The other member of Hunter Killer team Spectre dusted off his sleeves, before staring down at the corpse. Nobody could've survived that, especially with a weakened Aura, "Well, we got him in the end. Wait, shit..."

Reloading his rifle, he cocked his head, "What? Oh… oh damn..."

The target's head wasn't splattered over the ground like he would've thought. Instead, it was fully intact, unmarked, and still containing its contents.

"Still alive?" Ivers asked.

Verda bent down, reaching his finger for the Huntsman's neck. A moment, "Pulse is still going strong."

He stopped at the body, kicking him lightly with his boot, "So I guess I should've opened it up with The Magic Cannon."

"Nah man, he dodged your initial burst."

Chief's voice spoke into his ear, "You guys take him out yet? Heard quite a fight, and your vitals monitors still show as good."

Ivers spun around, searching for the voice that was crystal clear like he was right there talking to him. Nobody from him, Verda, and the target. Chief's outline was still hundreds of metres away, "Still alive. The target's alive for interrogation too."

"Alright, pick him up and meet up with me. We're going to take him to Roman and see what he knows."

"Sure thing, Chief," Iver gestured to Verda still crouched over the target. "You're going to be carrying him today."

"Why?"

"Because I gotta deal with the icecream demon."

"Fair."

/ - /

"Who the fuck sent you?"

He was in hell, Kahawi presumed. The masked men ambushed him in the streets. They appeared out of nowhere, only his gut saving him from immediate death. It didn't matter, because mid fight he just blacked out.

The masked man in front of him was different from the others. An air of authority, gritty voice filtering through speakers. Roman Torchwick himself stood just beside him, calmly smoking a cigar as he watched. A diminutive heterochromic midget stood next to one of the masked men he fought, almost clinging to him while eating a bowl of ice cream. Must be one of Roman's people then… strange that they were. They stood somewhere behind him now, last time he checked.

White Fang wandered around, carrying crates of something to a train. A few shot curious looks over to them, but other masked men shooed them away. They wore grey cloaks, synthetic lines running up and down them.

Kahawi did everything he could to keep himself together, but it didn't stop a few sobs from coming through.

"C'mon man, I got a family back in Vale. My girlfriend and I were just about to be married. We're low on money man, can you just let me go? I promise I won't tell anyone about this."

"Fuck..." the interrogator crouched down, tilting Kahawi's head to stare in the flat metal mask. "I'll ask you again, who hired you, and who sent you? What were you doing here, and why did my guys chart your movements in a direction towards our interdiction zone?"

His anti interrogation training told him to tell half truths to stay alive, but there was no lie, "I was just here to clear Grimm. I needed the easy money! I didn't know anything about a White Fang operation here, and whoever the fuck you are!"

"You think I'm fucking stupid?"

"W-what?"

"You stayed silent when we started. You got shit you wanna hide. 'Fess up and maybe I won't torture you."

"Jumping straight to Vytal Convention violations, eh? Guess terrorists don't apply," on the last words, he gulped, immediately regretting his words. "N-not to insult you. I was scared, so I stayed silent so I could see what was happening."

A shrug from the interrogator, "Doesn't apply when you're a mercenary or a criminal." he gestured to Roman.

A sly smile from Roman, "Maybe you can start telling the truth and I'll convince these men to not hurt you, hm?"

There was no chance of escape. His hands were tied behind his back, and his weapon was nowhere in sight. Not only that, but the same men who'd beat him were next to him, and more. His employer made it very clear to him. No rescue if he was captured, but a whole lot of pay.

Kahawi really wished he just declined the mission.

A choked sob rose through his throat, "I swear man! I was just hired on a routine Grimm clearance mission! Easy money. Go in, and clear out some packs. Then I spotted some White Fang and decided I needed to stop whatever operation they were doing. Alright, I wasn't hired by some god forsaken secret organization to come here and find your base, okay? If I was, then it wouldn't ju-"

"Shut up."

Kahawi shut up.

"Did you tell anybody about us?"

He did, "No! I swear I didn't! I thought I could find the location first and get some extra money if I gave it to the authorities! Please man, I promise I won't tell anybody about your base or what you're doing. I swear to whatever G-"

"Stop fucking begging," the interrogator snapped, masked face giving nothing away. "That isn't going to change my mind. Who hired you?"

"Dunno, I just saw the mission on the missions board and saw easy money."

"What's your Scroll password?"

"Sorry?"

"Tell me or I fucking kneecap you."

"One-seven-three-two," he recited. What was this guy trying to do?

The masked man tapped a few times on a Scroll in his hands. Kahawi's. A moment later, he glanced back up, "Where did you find the White Fang?"

"In the south of the city, tried to follow them back but lost them. Then spent a few days trying to canvass the direction they went."

The interrogator just scratched his chin, standing up and nodding to somewhere behind him.

"W-"

Kahawi didn't hear the shot that killed him. He didn't see the Magic Cannon fire, didn't see the cigarette drop from Roman's shocked mouth. He didn't see Arberwood clench his fists, grimace hidden behind his mask. He didn't see Neo's gleeful expression, didn't see Ivers blank expression as he pulled the trigger on a man who just begged for his life moments earlier. He didn't see the cold eyes of a killer, the regretful eyes of a man in a bad place, and blank stares of the mercenaries around.

Kahawi would never be the husband to his girlfriend, Spring. He would never know about his unborn child, squirming around unknown in the womb. He'd never see friends, family, or even strangers ever again.

In one quick moment, the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of a man were snuffed out. All the relationships he built, all the things he worked for, meaningless. He was dead now.

As easily as snuffing out a candle. A twitch of a finger.

"What the hell!" Roman yelped out, jumping back from the sprawled out corpse as chunks of a head sprayed out everywhere. "You just killed him!"

"Yes," Arberwood said curtly, hand curling into a fist. "We got what we needed. He was telling the truth. This was just a nosey Huntsman, maybe with some possible Striker Group influence around here. They occasionally get independent Huntsmen to go into places and see what's there. I'm not entirely sure this is the case here, but doesn't hurt to be safe.."

Ivers cocked his head questioningly, putting back The Magic Cannon, "Why not send their own guys?"

"When their forces are tied up with something else," Arberwood stared down at the corpse. "So they hire Huntsmen to do stuff in a hurry if we need to. They don't often do it, but on the rare occasion when the stars align and they need to know what's going on somewhere in a hurry, they put out a contract to an independent Huntsman."

Roman stared wide eyed down at the corpse, brushing off viscera off his coat, "Why did you kill him? That sort of stuff attracts attention. We don't need any more than necessary. Are you sure we couldn't have just let him poke around a bit and not kill him? Maybe now they're sending out another Huntsman to see where he went."

Arberwood's voice came out gritted, almost regretful, "If we let him go, he would've squealed to the authorities for sure. This way, at least, we have a bit more time before Striker Group comes down on this because they probably have the hint that we're here. He was close to our interdiction zone, and would've found a White Fang grunt slipping up somewhere and found us like he already did. This way they'll chalk it up to the Grimm. We had to. There wasn't any choice. This was the best decision." the last sentence came out mumbled.

"Well," Roman pulled out another cigarette, flipping open a lighter. "I suppose I can't say I'll fault you for it… after all I'm doing this," a gesture to the train. "We're ahead of schedule currently, thanks to you guys holding off the Grimm for us. How's it on your side of things going?"

The plain gray mask swung over to Roman, hiding anything beneath, "Operatives are ready. They planted the explosives and made sure nobody can find them. Once the Breach starts, you can detonate them to clear the way for the White Fang and Grimm."

"What about the other stuff we-"

"Not yet," Arberwood turned away, signalling to the other Sabyr Brigade men around. "I've been told that's for later."

"Alright, well… I guess I'll leave you to do your thing. Neo?" Roman said, puffing on his cigar.

She pouted, jumping away to Roman's side, but not before tapping a motionless Ivers on the shoulder, expectant expression on her face. A sigh and an interdimensional portal later, and she hopped away with a bowl of ice cream.

So the two parties split, each ignoring the corpse on the ground. Eventually, a White Fang member dragged the body away to be disposed of in a predetermined manner. Burnt to ashes and spread from a high building.

Regret followed the Lieutenant around the rest of the day, balanced out by the constant reminder that this was necessary. It was necessary, and it was justified.

He repeated his mantra in his head, justifying the execution of one of humanity's protectors in his head.

Ivers didn't have this problem. Just another day for him, but for a twinge in the back of his head.

Verda didn't care. He was here for the thrill.

Chief felt a rush when the Huntsman was shot, and he wasn't afraid to admit it.

When Kahawi didn't come back a few days later, his girlfriend became worried. His parents frantic, his friends curious, colleagues fearing the worst.

In the end, one less guardian of mankind was killed for trying to do his job.

One reluctant man had his motivation fractured.

One had a twinge of emotion, just at the back of his head, before he reminded himself that this was a normal day.

Nothing happened the rest of the day, leaving them all to stew in their thoughts.

So, that's that.

Chapter reminder I have a Discord, that'll probably become more and more the only communication between you guys and me in the following months.

discord gg/8gbF2TJ (Link also on profile if you want to copy paste).

Anyways, onto the most important announcement. School is going to start soon for me, and that of course means these updates are going to take a hit. At this point, I'm not sure if I can keep the updates up if school comes around, but we'll see. There's several probabilities. Quality takes a hit, lengths stay the same. Length takes a hit, quality stays (mostly) the same. Quality and length stays the same, update schedule takes a hit and goes out of wack.

There's a poll on my profile. Feel free to go on there and vote, and I'll take it into consideration.

Of course, school could be easy and I laugh and continue on, or it becomes a source of depression and you wait six months for a 4k word chapter that's about as good as a teenager's first fanfiction hahahahahahaha.

Ha, see I'm self aware. That means I'm actually a great writer, right?

On the actual chapter, we finish the Cardin fight. See some more stuff about the feelings that I already know is going to drag on the already slow pacing. Then finally get to check back on our SB bois committing warcrimes, and a dude that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A note about the story as a whole. I've had the feeling that the pacing of the story has been slowing down, and I'm not sure if I should keep it at this pace until things start popping off, speed up, or if it's already fast. I'll probably do some reflection later and do some research later. In the meanwhile, give me your thoughts about the pacing in the reviews so I can bloat it for clout.

I would've had a poll for that too, but it only allows one. Just tell me in the reviews.

Anyways, remember, stabbing orphans for clout is always okay.

Just like begging for reviews so I can get more clout.

Tophat out.