Chapter 3…
Eight Years ago - Near A Tiny Hamlet in the Jungles of Mistral…
"Again."
Mauve was growing to despise that word. One syllable, five letters… always uttered with a tone of finality, laced with a fine edge of impatience.
"Mauve!" The voice called out more sharply. "Again!"
Growling to herself, the pre-teen girl forced herself out of the hot sand she was lying in. The sharp grains bit at her bare hands and knees - irritating the rashes and dry patches that were slowly turning her once smooth skin to a more scale-like texture.
Stumbling from fatigue, the lynx girl greedily reached out her hands to grab her target - a faded red rag. It was clearly a ruse - the lynx girl knew that her opponent was feigning mercy, trying to make it appear as if this attempt would be easier…
Moments before Mauve's small hands could grasp the fluttering cloth, her opponent yanked it away. They lashed out their right leg in a low sweep, knocking Mauve's legs out from under her and sending her sprawling into the sand… again...
She knew what was coming. Then why did she fall for it? Again… and again… and again…
"Again!" The voice of Mauve's opponent echoed through the small clearing. "Up! Now!"
Mauve pushed off of the hot sand, kicking up debris with her bare feet. A pathetic attempt at a roar escaped her chapped lips as she once again tried in vain to grab the fluttering red cloth.
Moments later, Mauve found herself face down in the sand… again…
She felt herself cringe as she waited for the word to come…
"Mauve, stand up…"
'Not again?'
Feeling tears of frustration welling up in her eyes, Mauve slowly and painfully pushed herself back into a standing position. Her knees, elbows, and hands ached painfully as she stood, blood slowly seeping from the scrapes and cuts she had accumulated from training.
"Mauve?"
The lynx girl did not answer. She kept her gaze low, her amber eyes stuck on the boots of her trainer. Her sweaty hair hung in her eyes like a shimmering curtain.
"Mauve, what have I told you about looking at the floor!" Her trainer called sharply. "When somebody is speaking to you, you look them in the eye!"
Feeling her nose twitch, Mauve lifted her head. She found herself staring into eyes that were much like her own.
Argent Tempesta sighed, sweeping one calloused hand through his thick head of silver hair. His stubble-covered face looked angular and sharp in the bright midday sunlight, his skin shining with a fine sheen of sweat.
"Do not give me that look…" Argent warned, his face stern. "You begged me to train you. So do not go around simpering when things do not go your way… fix your face!"
Mauve flinched at the stern order and did as commanded. She pulled her facial features into a neutral look, fighting down the hot feeling of frustrated tears building behind her eyes.
"There will be no breaks today - not until you succeed…" Argent lifted his left arm, wiggling the faded red cloth that Mauve had been trying to snatch all morning. "Do not act like a victim, you asked for this. You want to be a huntress? Then you must learn to act like a huntress. A huntress cannot cry and she cannot complain… she must act…"
Mauve felt her lower lip quivering, she held the skin down with her teeth.
"When I was young, my father taught me to be a huntsman…" Argent continued, his amber gaze as hard as stone. "When I failed to do as he asked… he did not try to explain what I did wrong. Instead, he would strike me across the face… all these years later and I can still remember that stinging feeling, Mauve. Do you know why I am telling you this?"
Mauve slowly shook her head from side to side.
"I am not cruel like my father was… and I would never strike you like that," Argent's gaze softened for a moment. "But I must still hold you to a harsh, strict standard. Now, get ready…"
Mauve braced herself, bending her knees in anticipation.
"Again!"
The Present...
Mauve had to fight the urge to close her eyes…
The seat of the prisoner transport was rock hard and there was no headrest to speak of. Still, there was something about riding in the flying machine that Mauve found… soothing. Asher had remarked to her once or twice that he found the mechanical hum of bullhead engines comforting and Mauve was beginning to agree with him. Her lynx ears gently twitched in reaction to the rumbling noises of the engines.
Asher was seated right next to her while Sage and Rust were seated just across the aisle. The three boys were engaged in a quiet conversation that Mauve wasn't really paying attention to…
But now wasn't the time for conversation or rest - now was the time for reflection.
On her successes, and on her failures…
In her own head, Mauve silently replayed the grueling fight that had just taken place. With her adrenaline winding down Mauve was beginning to remember the fight more clearly.
Her blade work had been excellent, Mauve practiced daily. Her aim with her guns was also steadily improving; trying to aim accurately in the heat of battle was a difficult task, but practice made perfect.
Her handling of her prototype arcing gun? Not too bad either… although Mauve would need to speak with Professor Polendina about assembling a final version…
But the fight wasn't perfect… Mauve had been grazed by a bullet at one point. Her aura negated any and all damage it might have caused, but Mauve still remembered the painful sting.
She had been sloppy… and sloppiness led to recklessness, recklessness led to stupidity, stupidity led to a hundred other lousy things… the worst of which was failure…
Mauve had failed again… and she would need to try harder next time. If she wasn't operating at her best then her team couldn't be at their best… it was as simple as that...
"Mauve?" Asher asked gently, snapping the lynx girl away from her thoughts. The lynx girl turned her head to find her partner staring at her.
Asher had pulled off his combat helmet and placed the headgear between his feet. He looked handsome in the dim light of the transport's interior. In recent weeks he had cut down his scraggly mop of fair hair into a neater, shorter cut that he kept swept to one side. His upper lip was covered in a fine, thick layer of peach fuzz; it was his most recent attempt to grow - in his own words - a "wispy, bad-guy moustache".
So far his moustache looked terrible, especially when compared to the glorious beard Rust had grown since they had arrived in Atlas.
Mauve hadn't told him her secret opinion though, not just yet…
"Mauve?" Asher blinked. "You okay?"
"Yeah!" Mauve finally answered, focusing on her partner's face and ignoring the stares of her other teammates. "Sorry… was lost in thought for a second there…"
"Okay," Asher shrugged. The fair haired boy used his left hand to remove his right glove and he stashed it in his coat pocket. Asher smiled and wordlessly flexed his bare hand. Mauve rolled her eyes and followed his lead, pulling off her own glove and stashing it away, she then intertwined her bare fingers with his.
"Ew!" Rust mocked from the other side of the aisle. "Hand holding!? What happened to you two being professional?"
"Yeah guys!" Sage fake sneered. "What the hell? Gross!"
"Technically speaking the mission is done," Asher leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on the top of Mauve's head. "We can be as unprofessional as we want."
"I wouldn't go that far..." Mauve smirked and squeezed Asher's hand tighter.
"Speaking of you two being unprofessional," Sage wrinkled his nose and looked away uncomfortably. "You two aren't… uh… you guys don't have any-"
"Are you two going to get freaky tonight?" Rust interjected, ignoring Sage's loud guffaw of shock. "Is what Sage meant to ask…"
"Get freaky?" Asher snorted. He turned to view his girlfriend out of the corner of his eye; the hopeful gleam in them was hard to miss. "Are we…?"
"Not tonight," Mauve pursed her lips and blew on Asher's ear to irritate him. "Sage and Rust need a place to sleep…"
"Fair enough," Asher turned back to his male teammates and adopted a smug look on his face. "You're welcome, you two."
Rust snorted in derision and looked away but Sage still looked uncomfortable with the topic at hand. After a few moments the interior of the transport fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Sage, perhaps with the intention of clearing the air, changed the subject.
"So…?" the faunus began, patting the armrest of his seat. "I feel like Ironwood could have given us a more comfortable ride back…"
"You expected something more luxurious than a prisoner transport?" Rust joked. He took a moment to raise his chin and sniff the air. "Like a bullhead? Maybe one that doesn't smell like old sweat and broken dreams?"
"Yeah, Sage! Don't be so naive!" Asher added with a chortle. "Ironwood giving his favorite errand runners a comfortable ride back!? Ridiculous…"
Rust chuckled and looked away, a thoughtful look etched on his features. "Errand runners… not a bad description…"
"Don't be ungrateful," Mauve warned. "Considering everything else we got offered last month… Ironwood has been pretty damn generous…"
"Oh, I'm not being ungrateful," Asher frowned. He turned his head around to peer out the window behind his seat. "I'm just a little bit tired of running missions in Mantle… fighting other people is a pain…"
Asher's teammates shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the fair haired boy didn't notice.
He had a point however, the teammates had barely encountered any grimm since arriving at Atlas academy. There was a good reason for this of course. Verdant Bulwark's control of Mantle's underworld had been absolute and his operations numerous; clearing out the last of his hideouts was a top priority.
"You can complain if you want," Mauve frowned. "We're making the streets of Mantle safer."
"For whom?" Asher raised his eyebrow. "For the people? Or for Ironwood?"
The craft was silent for the remainder of the trip.
After some time the prisoner transport docked at Atlas academy and Team MARS filed out onto the tarmac. They made their way to the entrance of the academy and entered the heated buildings.
It was almost midnight, so the main atrium wasn't bustling with its usual activity. Team MARS approached the express elevator to Ironwood's office, and after being waved through by the guards they were sent rocketing upwards for their scheduled debrief.
The elevator doors opened, revealing the interior of the spacious office Team MARS had become familiar with in the past month. The man they were heading to see was seated at his desk. General Ironwood wasn't alone however; Professor Polendina's familiar face could be spotted as well, the portly scientist was resting upon his four-legged movement rig.
Whatever conversation the General and the Professor were sharing, it was bordering on hostile.
"-if you have the money to build on a new flagship, you have money for this project as well!" Polendina gasped, sounding exasperated.
"It's not that I don't want to allocate more resources to you, Professor…" Ironwood leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples. "But you must know that the Council will have questions!"
"Then convince the Council!"
"With what!?" Ironwood splayed his hands out in a flourish. "We cannot show them an incomplete project! Especially not one this sensitive!"
"I just-" Polendina paused, his gaze being drawn over to the waiting members of Team MARS. "Oh, perhaps we should put this discussion on hold…"
"Yes indeed," Ironwood screwed his eyes in frustration before turning to address the team. "Here for the debrief?"
"Yes sir," Mauve saluted, the rest of her team following her lead. Her amber eyes flicked over to view Professor Polendina. "Are we interrupting something? Would you like us to wait outside?"
"That's not necessary," Ironwood wrung his gloved hands together. "Professor Polendina and I were just finishing up…"
"Yes," the portly professor finally spoke, his tone laced with the slightest edge of frustration. The impeccably well dressed man reached up to tip his favored flat cap in the team's direction. "I'm just dropping in… I wanted to give the General a report… and make a humble request."
"Do you want us to step out for a moment?" Mauve asked, cocking her head to the side.
"Oh, no worries!" Polendina shook his head, lifting his brawny arm up to check his watch. "I really should be going." The professor paused to face the General in question. "So, you'll consider my requests?"
"It's already in consideration, Professor," Ironwood raised his hands. "The Council won't be happy about the budgetary concerns, so I can't promise anything…"
"I understand," Polendina tapped the armrests of his chair. "I'm sure that you can convince them otherwise?"
Ironwood turned his gaze to focus on the four members of Team MARS. "I'll do my best..."
"Well, alright," Professor Polendina manipulated the joystick on his four-legged mech. The impressive machine descended the stairs of Ironwood's desk with ease and he approached the four members of Team MARS.
"Ms. Tempesta?" Polendina called out as he passed the team. "The prototype? How did it function?"
"I mean… it worked," Mauve called over her shoulder. She moved her hand down to pat the long barrel of her arcing gun. "But I had some ideas… for the final version, I mean."
"Feel free to stop by," Professor Polendina offered as he approached the elevator. "That offer goes for all of you!"
There was a murmured "thank you" from the other members of Team MARS. Professor Polendina offered them one last wave before the elevator doors closed, cutting him off from view.
Mauve turned away from the elevator to face Ironwood again. "Sir, we-"
"It's fine," Ironwood stood up from his desk with a huff and raised his hands. "No need for pleasantries… it's late…"
The four members of Team MARS relaxed where they stood.
"Polendina can be a little bit informal at times..." Ironwood paced around to the front of his desk and leaned against its surface. "But even if you four heard anything, I doubt that discussions on excess spending would interest you four."
"Excess spending?" Mauve asked.
"Yes," Ironwood nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Running this academy is incredibly expensive. Of course, the academy's expenses are nothing compared to the needs of the labs..." Ironwood paused and frowned. "Honestly, I don't even know why I'm talking about this. Let's wrap up tonight's business so that we can all turn in. I know the schoolwork for you four has been… heavy, as of late…"
Ironwood's final statement was met by three groans from the male members of Team MARS. It was true… the sheer amount of schoolwork that had been piled on them was completely unbelievable. It was to be expected though. Unlike many of the teams from Beacon, MARS has stayed behind for six months to help clean up the campus. Therefore, they were all six months behind on schoolwork and had to scramble to catch up.
"Well," Ironwood huffed as he stood up from his position. The imposingly tall General leaned over to his desk and tapped a small button on its built-in control board. "Let's get this debrief over and done with…"
The four members of Team MARS watched and waited as a holo-projector sprang from the floor. The top surface of the projector illuminated, displaying a 3D projection of Mantle. Certain buildings had been marked with a tiny little red flag.
Ironwood strolled forwards and planted his arms on either side of the projector. He reached up one hand and snatched one of the little red flags with the tip of his finger; it had been planted on the warehouse that Team MARS and Crimson's team had raided only two hours before. Ironwood plucked the little flag from where it was standing and the small marker dissolved into photons.
"I've already received reports from my men that we have over fifty new prisoners in the cell blocks," Ironwood rolled his right hand in gesture. "With them in custody and the contents of the warehouse under our control, you four have made Mantle safer."
Mauve coughed into her palm to get the General's attention. "But… it wasn't just us. Team one-twenty-six was a big help tonight sir."
"Them too," the General shrugged. The slightest hint of a smile tugged on the corners of his lips. "I'm guessing that they told you to say that?"
"Well yes," Mauve licked her lips and nodded. "But it's the truth."
"I'll see to it that they're rewarded," the General frowned. "Even if they were there… unofficially. I really wish that you four hadn't got them wrapped up in all this…"
Mauve shifted uncomfortably in place. What the General had said was true; the only reason Crimson's team had been involved with the recent raids in the last month was because they had been dragged in. They were on a "need to know" basis, but they still knew too much about the situation with Verdant to be left out.
Mauve blamed herself for their involvement… it was one of many bad decisions…
"We've reached a rather sensitive point in this operation," Ironwood tapped his fingers against the holo-projector. "There are still some other leads that are being investigated, but nothing conclusive yet. Once word gets out about what happened tonight Verdant's remaining operations will be on high-alert."
"So we're getting a break?" Asher asked, tilting his head.
"I suppose that's a word that could be used," Ironwood tentatively agreed. "I'll contact you four quietly in case something comes up. Until that's ready, however, you four should focus on your classes."
Ironwood stood up and patted down his officer's coat. "That should be everything… any questions?"
"The same one I ask every time I see you," Sage pursed his lips. "You should already be familiar…"
"Communications with my men and Team Violet are still… limited," Ironwood frowned. "The most recent report from my operatives stated that they were still helping with the cleanup."
"I can't imagine what that place must look like," Rust mumbled.
"According to the initial report, most of the village was leveled," Ironwood frowned. "Considering that my men have already been exposed, having them stay and help was a show of good faith… although I would still prefer them to be back in Atlas."
"Okay," Sage stuck his hands in his pockets. "Just… keep us informed, alright?"
"You four will be the first to know…" Ironwood spoke softly. With no other words the General lifted his arm to point at the elevator. "Dismissed…"
Thirty minutes later, Team MARS were in their dorm and getting ready to turn in.
In the recent month their dorm had gone from a barebones guest room to something more akin to a home. All four members had added their own personal touch to the dorm. But, the home-like ambiance of the dorm was sullied by the stacks of books and papers everywhere.
Stacks and stacks of essays, textbooks and homework sheets… all with their own deadlines. Catch up was it's own ongoing nightmare…
The four members of MARS changed into their pajamas and hopped into their bunks. Mauve slipped into her and Asher's shared bunk and found her usual spot against her partner's chest.
Typically, it took about an hour for all three of Mauve's teammates to fall asleep.
Asher was the easiest one to figure out, given that he and Mauve often shared a bed. Once his breathing slowed and his grip on her slackened, Mauve knew with a high degree of certainty that Asher was out cold.
Rust was the second easiest, given that he had a habit of snoring. Not long after falling asleep, his foghorn bellows filled the still air of the room - the loud noises ruffling fabric and papers.
Sage… was a little bit harder to figure out. Unlike Rust, Sage was a near-silent sleeper. Mauve had to listen to his breathing and the shifting of fabric; the green haired boy was fitful when he slept and often tangled himself up in his bedsheets. Like her, Sage's faunus eyes had a soft glow in darkness - which made it very easy to tell whether they were closed or not.
Thankfully, tonight seemed to be a typical night for her teammates' sleep patterns - none of them would see her leave.
Mauve deftly slipped out of Asher's loose grasp and tiptoed over to the room's dresser. She quietly opened the drawer's and extracted a pair of workout clothes, which she replaced her pajamas with.
After filling up a water bottle in the bathroom sink, Mauve silently slipped out of the dorm room.
Despite Atlas Academy being under military control, there was no set curfew. Students were free to walk the halls at night and use the school's services, but there were harsh punishments if one was to disturb their sleeping peers. But Mauve had no intention of doing so and stalked quietly down the sterile hallways.
Her destination? The workout room…
It was a sprawling room filled to the brim with every imaginable type of exercise equipment. Mauve instantly found herself gravitating towards the rows of black treadmills - which were excellent for training cardio.
The lynx girl hopped up onto the running belt and began fiddling around with the controls. In her head, she replayed the fight that had taken place a few hours before.
She remembered the sting of the bullet… her one failure in an otherwise perfect performance...
Flicking on the last of the switches and sliding the safety key into the lock, Mauve set the treadmill's speed on "high". In an instant the running belt began to spin and Mauve entered into a sprint.
She would do twenty minutes of running. It seemed like a suitable punishment for her failure. After she finished the run… perhaps she would move onto the weights…
Once she had worked herself to her absolute limit, Mauve would creep back into her dorm room and slip under the covers again. Her light touch of make-up in the morning would hide the black bags forming under her eyes.
As team leader, Mauve couldn't tolerate failure… least of all, her own...