Chapter 4…
The rain was running down the back of his neck… but he didn't care…
As evening transitioned into twilight, the rain had progressed from a small drizzle to a steady pour. The droplets splattered against the leafy canopy above the man's head, forming small waterfalls which pooled along the ground.
Despite the water running down his head and his neck, the droplets sliding down his forehead and cheeks, the man did not move from his position. He knelt on the ground, the mud and soil staining the fabric of his black pants, and kept his hands clasped together in a silent gesture.
Other than the gentle sound of the rain, there were no disturbances. Off in the distance and down the hill from which the man was situated were the squat buildings of a small village. The village was nestled in a small clearing, the jungle surrounding it in an uneven ring. But the buildings of the village were dark, without a sign of life among even one of them…
For a moment, there was peace…
The man began to hum, although it was muted by the pattering rain. He hummed a mournful tune - slow and soft; a tune akin to a dirge, or perhaps a lullaby…
It brought him comfort… peace…
"Failure…"
The man's eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice, his humming ending as abruptly as it began. He could feel his jaw quivering, his skin breaking out into goosebumps - but he did not unclasp his hands from their reverent position.
"What do you want?" The man asked softly, swallowing quickly to battle down any hint of nervousness in his voice.
"The same thing that you want…" The voice growled. It spoke in a warbling, screeching, inhuman tone - like wind whipping through trees, or air whistling down a hollow pipe. "The difference between you and me is that I'm willing to do what's necessary to achieve the ends."
"I tried…" The man's lower lip quivered. "I asked him - I begged him… but he still refuses to help me…"
"Let him be a coward then!" The other voice snarled in response. "We never liked him to begin with! He was always weak! Always foolish! Content to live in his manufactured little world of lies and obfuscation!"
"Then why would you tell me to find him…?"
"Because you and I both know that we've reached a dead-end…" The voice grew more somber, its tone lowering in volume. "We needed a new approach. But we should have known that he wouldn't be able to offer us one."
"I-" The man's voice cracked, his hands squeezing tighter against one another in their position of reverence. "I tire of this…"
"Silence," the voice growled. "It is over when it is over… until then, we cannot rest…"
"But…" The man's voice wavered and crackled. He lifted up his gaze towards the object of his reverence.
Sitting amongst the reeds was a stone headstone. The marker was well-kept, the stone polished and the ground around cleared from weeds. In front of the stone sat a small clay vase where several colourful flowers bobbed and danced in the howling wind.
"But nothing…." The harsher voice whispered. "I will tell you what must be done…"
"I-" The man choked out.
"You know what must be done… and you have the strength to accomplish it…" The voice soothed. "We need to know more - a new approach. Find the listeners, the ones who mark themselves with those who crawl on eight legs."
"Why…? What will I ask them?"
"It is clear that we must resort to more… desperate… measures…" The harsh voice drawled. "Beacon lies in cinders - the wizard in his tower is dead, for now, at least. We will ask them to tell us more about his secret - the one kept beneath Beacon."
"You mean-"
"Yes," the voice hissed in a low tone.
"They would know nothing about the object - few do."
"She has eyes and ears all over Remnant…" The voice growled. "They will find out where it has gone."
"And if she does not cooperate?"
"Then we will make her cooperate…"
"Yes…" The man whispered, his hands finally unclasping from their position of reverence. "I see now… your plan is wise. One day, this will be over…"
"...and then…?"
"We rest…"
The man stood up from his kneeling position, leaving indents in the dirt where his legs had been. As he rose his hands curled into fists, his eyes still stuck on the small headstone nestled amongst the reeds.
Despite all that had transpired between them, the man who lived in the village below had continued to tend to the grave.
"Yes…"
The man broke his gaze away from the headstone and looked down towards the patch of hardened soil that it loomed over. There, lying in the dirt, was the man's second face.
It was a black mask - large enough to cover the entirety of the man's head. The mask's face was dominated by a sharp beak-like protrusion. From the back of the mask rose a small plumage of feathers, colored a dark white and marked by years of neglect.
The eyes of the mask - two dark slits - observed the man with an enigmatic stare…
"We are finished here… time is our enemy…"
"Hasn't it always been?" The man chuckled.
Reaching down, the man hooked the tips of fingers beneath the mask and lifted it from the soil. He placed it over his head - wiggling the headgear until it was firm and snug on him.
"Let us go…" The voice snarled. "Do what must be done. There must only be hate, shed the rest."
"There must only be hate…" Repeated the man, his voice sounding more hollow beneath the mask. "Shed the rest…"
The man felt anger coiling in his chest, he felt disgust towards the rain sliding down his body, he felt hatred towards the man who lived in the village below - the one who still refused to help him even after all these years of suffering…
"There is only hate, the rest has been shed," the man snarled, his teeth baring underneath his mask.
"Then let us do what must be done…" The other voice chuckled in dark amusement. Within the hollow confines of the mask, the voice seemed to echo from every direction. "Once, those like us shaped this world. We shall do so again."
"Yes…"
The masked man stood up from his position, rainwater dribbling off of his clothing. Pausing for a moment, the masked man shuddered, turning his head and shoulders off into the distance to peer at someone unseen.
"Who… are you…?"
Asher's grey eyes snapped open, the bottom of his head lifting off of his pillow. He was instantly greeted by the unremarkable view of the wall supports that supported the bunk bed above his. There was morning gunk in his eyes, but that was the least of his concerns…
'What the hell…?"
It had been three week since the fight between Asher's team and Verdant Bulwark… three blissful weeks of silence in Asher's head, without a dream to speak of…
Until now…
Using his hands to support himself, Asher pushed himself up so that he was resting on his elbows and blinked the morning gunk out of his eyes. Shaking his head gently, Asher cleared his throat and concentrated on the strange visions which had just danced on the insides of his eyelids.
Asher usually remembered his dreams, vivid and strange as they tended to be. But the mysterious character that was the stranger had been absent. Typically, all of Asher's past dreams had been based on his memory - small scraps from his past that seemed to be of interest to his enigmatic ally.
But… the dream Asher had just awoken from was not a memory…
Not his, at least…
There had been rain… judging from the pattering noises and the lingering smell of moisture which haunted Asher's senses. The grey-eyed boy could remember the sounds of voices, two of them, although what had been spoken about was lost to him…
'Weird… really weird…'
Three weeks ago, Asher had explained his strange situation to his teammates. The mysterious dreams he had been having for months were connected to the recent changes in his semblances - that much was clear - although Asher had yet to fully understand the connection…
The fair haired boy heard fabric ruffling and turned his head to find Mauve. The lynx girl was sitting next to him on the edge of the bunk, her back turned to him, and was already fully dressed in her white Atlas Academy uniform. It was a conservative ensemble consisting of a clean grey dress, a necktie, a pair of white leggings and knee high boots.
Mauve wasn't sitting still. Asher's partner was busy with her personal hairbrush; she guided it down her still-damp hair with practiced ease, straightening out the silver and purple strands.
She had a lot less hair than she used to. It had once almost reached her hips, but now it only extended down to the base of her neck. Verdant Bulwark had sliced off her ponytail as an act of humiliation, one of the few acts of humiliation he had laid down on the team that infamous day…
But fuck him, Verdant Bulwark was rotting in a cell somewhere… which was exactly where Asher wanted him…
The grey eyed boy pulled his hand out from under the covers and lightly gripped the strap of Mauve's grey dress. He tugged it slightly to get her attention, relenting when she removed her brush from her hair and turned her head to meet his eyes.
"Morning," Asher sighed, rolling over onto his side so that he was facing his partner.
"Good morning…" Mauve whispered in response, turning her head so that she was peering back at her partner. The lynx girl's amber eyes seemed unfocused for a moment before she settled her gaze on Asher's face. "Are you alright?"
"Uh, yeah…" Asher coughed and wiped his eyes. For a moment, the grey-eyed boy considered mentioning the strange dream, but decided against it. After all, there wasn't much to say. "I uh… just woke up a bit too quickly…"
"That happens to me too sometimes…" Mauve offered her partner a small smile, reaching out to affectionately run a hand through his messy hair.
Asher cracked a small grin. "Speaking of waking up too quickly… why can't you stay in bed a bit longer, hey?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Look, I get it… you get the first turn in the shower…" Asher held up one hand. "But would it kill you to sleep in for once?"
Asher felt the mood between them drop for a quick moment. Mauve was smiling at him, but her eyes seemed a little bit glassy, as if she was focusing on something in the distance.
"Hey," Asher reached out a hand to rest it on Mauve's shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Mauve spoke suddenly. She pushed herself up off the bed and turned to face Asher. Mauve wordlessly extended her arm down to grasp Asher's hand and he allowed himself to be tugged into a standing position.
Asher stayed silent as Mauve played with the wrinkled collar of his pajama shirt, her amber eyes fixed on his Adam's apple.
"You should take a shower," Mauve spoke absentmindedly, finally winning the battle and straightening out his collar.
"Are you saying I stink?"
Mauve turned her head and narrowed her eyes a little. "Yes"
"Hey!?"
"Shh," Mauve pressed her finger against his lips. She lifted her other hand and pointed over Asher's shoulder. The fair haired boy gently turned his head to view the two other occupied bunks.
His other male teammates were still sleeping. Sage was messily splayed out atop his own covers in a mess of limbs and fabric. Rust had wrapped himself into a blanket cocoon, his legs hanging off the side of the bunk and to the left like he usually had them.
"Keep it down," Mauve whispered, making eye-contact with Asher as he turned back around. "Go take a shower and get dressed… then maybe you and I can crawl back into bed for a bit."
"It's a deal," Asher leaned forward and pecked her on the lips.
He moved away from her and stealthily crept towards the bathroom door. Asher placed his hands on the handle and gently pushed it open.
After a cold shower and a change of clothes Asher was ready to go. He exited the bathroom to rejoin his other teammates. Rust and Sage were already awake by the time Asher was done and moved to take their turns; first was Rust and then Sage not long afterwards.
"So," Rust spoke as he fiddled with his uniform tie. "Thoughts?"
"On what?" Asher yawned. He had laid back down on the rumpled sheets of his bunk and was reveling in the leftover warmth that clung to the sheets. Mauve had not kept her word about joining him; the lynx girl was instead sitting at the dorm's provided desk, fiddling around with a mountain of papers.
"On what Polendina and Ironwood were talking about last night," Rust finally won the war with his tie, pulling it out to its desired length.
"You mean the one that we walked in on?" Asher scoffed, folding his hands behind his head. "Are you in a speculating mood?"
"I am feeling mighty speculatory," Rust grinned. The incredibly tall boy tapped his bearded chin in thought. "Polendina is pretty eccentric. What do you think he wants funding for?"
"Good question..." Asher frowned and rubbed his cheek in thought. "Maybe… some kind of weapon…?"
"No, it's probably not a weapon," Rust continued. "Polendina is a borderline pacifist, the guy probably only works in Atlas for the funding."
"I hate to break it to you," Asher scratched his scalp. "But chances are that we'll never know… and Ironwood certainly wouldn't tell us if we asked."
"What if we asked politely?"
"Don't be rude," Mauve chided, not turning around to face her teammates. The loud scribbling of a pen could be heard from the desk. Mauve was very neatly tracing her pen against a sheet of blank white paper. Once she was finished, she folded it neatly and tucked it into a nearby envelope. "Ironwood's been good to us… the least we can do is bear with him…"
Mauve straightened her back and gently rose from her chair - tucking the newly sealed letter into the pocket of her dress as she did so. She spun around with a flourish and leaned against the surface of the desk. "Besides… it isn't our business..."
"Say…?" Rust poked his tongue out the side of his mouth and waved a brawny finger. "You need to visit Polendina to talk about your lightning gun, right?"
"Arcing gun," Mauve corrected. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm just saying…" Rust's gaze flicked between an impassive Mauve and a curious looking Asher. "Polendina is talkative… maybe you could grease the wheels a bit?"
"I am not prying him for information," Mauve deadpanned. "No…"
"Oh, come on!" Rust whined, throwing his hands up in the air.
"We could ask Liz," Asher suggested with a shrug. "She-"
"No," Mauve interrupted, a firm tone in her voice that shut her partner down instantly. "We went behind Ironwood's back once and it was a terrible idea! Not again…"
Asher and Rust shifted uncomfortably in their spots.
The bathroom door creaked open and three pairs of eyes turned to spot Sage exiting the steamy room. He, like them, was dressed in the whites, blacks and grays of the Atlas Academy uniform.
"Did I walk in on something?" Sage asked, his curious gaze flicking between his teammates.
"Nothing at all," Asher rose from his bunk and put a gentle hand on Mauve's shoulder. "Breakfast anyone?"
As second year students at Atlas Academy, Team MARS was expected to stick to a rigid schedule.
First on the list was breakfast, which was served from seven-thirty till nine o'clock. Contrary to popular belief, the food served at the military academy wasn't all that bad. In fact, breakfast was inarguably the best meal of the day. Most of the time it was overcooked eggs followed by sausages and bacon that clearly came out of a box. It wasn't spectacular or memorable, but at least it was consistent.
Immediately after breakfast - starting at nine and running until ten-thirty - was their first class of the day, Advanced Dust Mechanics. The class content usually involved long form math equations and the occasional lab experiment. Mauve was the only member of the team who really excelled in this subject.
Following Dust Mechanics was Grimm studies- which ran from ten-thirty to twelve o'clock. The class was pretty self-explanatory, and Sage was already way ahead of his teammates in terms of raw knowledge, given that he had been born and raised in Mantle.
Right after Grimm studies was lunch break, a rather mundane affair that lasted for an hour. The kitchens back at Beacon Academy had gone well out of their way to introduce a myriad of different options into their weekly menus. Atlas Academy didn't have the luxury of choice; what you saw was what you got, and if you complained to the staff the only thing you would get in return was a dirty look and a glob of spit in your food.
Once lunch was done and (begrudgingly) swallowed down, Team MARS made their way to their next class. After lunch was "Practical Studies", which covered every topic under the sun that might be useful. One week they were learning about first aid, the next week they were learning about foraging and so on…
Out of every class, the only one that all four members showed true interest in was Combat Class. There was nothing more interesting than a fight, after all, and Atlas Academy was no different from Beacon when it came to class layout. There was a central stage, a ringed layout of bleachers, and over one-hundred pairs of eyes focused on the combatants.
It was, without a doubt, the most interesting class of the day…
Not because of its contents, but because of it's instructor…
The four members of Team MARS had been in disbelief when Crimson had first warned them about Crazy Grey… but as it had turned out, the redhead wasn't lying…
"Crazy Grey" (not his actual name, mind you) was a tall, older man with a head of frizzy hair, the colour of which matched his namesake. He was clearly middle-aged, judging from his creased face - but moved with the speed and agility of a much younger man.
The word "crazy" was also an apt-description of his teaching style...
"Alright you Miscreants!" Grey roared out to the mass of students, spittle flying from his mouth. "Let's start class with the motto! Let me hear you SCREAM!"
"Don't be an idiot!" The auditorium rumbled as the mass of students answered - Team MARS included.
"LOUDER!"
"DON'T BE AN IDIOT!" The foundations of the building shook.
"Good!" Grey gently clapped his hands together like he was at the opera. He took a moment to smooth down the military fatigues he always wore to class. They clearly weren't Atlas issue; that particular assumption was made off the fact the fatigues were printed with green and brown camo…
… and there was little to no greenery in the tundra of Solitas...
"Okay," Crazy Grey threw his hand behind him to grab the edge of a portable whiteboard. He wheeled the board into view and snatched a marker from the pocket of his fatigues. "We're gonna learn a rhyme! And then fights!"
The class groaned… Crazy Grey loved his rhymes…
"Okay!" Grey slammed the tip of his marker against the surface of the whiteboard. It made an irritating scratching noise as he quite literally carved the letters into the board. Finally, Grey pulled away from the board and slowly spun it around the room to proudly show off his work.
"A HUNTSMAN WHO MOVES SLOW ENDS UP SIX FEET BELOW!"
"Say it!" Grey demanded, his beady black eyes scanning the expanse of students.
"A Huntsman who moves slow ends up six feet below," the class droned.
"LOUDER!" Grey roared, throwing back his head and rearing up his arms.
"A HUNTSMAN WHO MOVES SLOW ENDS UP SIX FEET BELOW!" The class droned in a louder tone.
"YES!" Grey pumped his fist. "I've got a story that's perfect for this-"
The class once again groaned in anticipation.
"-there was this guy I knew once, he's dead now," Grey began his long-winded tale.
Perhaps thirty minutes later, he finally got to the point…
"And that's why you don't piss off a horde of sycophantic cultists!" Grey cackled as he slapped his leg in amusement. "`Cuz when they say that they'll stone you, they mean it!"
Whatever the moral of the story was… it was lost on everyone… except Grey...
The older teacher stopped laughing as abruptly as he began and faced the class with a deadly serious look. "Okay… let's fight!"
Crazy Grey pulled a cracked scroll from the pocket of his fatigues and spun around to face the massive board that hung over the fighting stage. One quick click of a scroll-button later and two holographic symbols began to spin, quickly cycling through the names of the class participants.
Finally, it landed on two specific names. "Rust Zephyr" and a girl named "Rose Blanche".
Rust rose from his seat, feeling anticipation manifest as a tickly feeling on the back of his knees. He felt a light tap on his lower back and spun around to view Asher, who was viewing him with an amused expression.
"Go get 'em, tiger!" Asher chuckled and grinned. Sage offered Rust a thumbs up and Mauve shot a quick nod of affirmation.
Rust wordlessly squeezed through the aisles to approach the locker room, feeling quite literally hundreds of eyes on his massive back. On the other side of the auditorium his opponent stood up from her own seat and broke off to the female locker room.
Inside the locker room, Rust quickly got dressed in his combat attire. He felt a slight sense of satisfaction as he tugged on the sleeves of his jacket. For most of his life Rust had been forced to wear shirts that were far too small; but the tailors up in Atlas knew how to do a good job.
He hefted Ruination up by it's strap and slung the maul over his right shoulder for easy carrying. With his bandolier secure and his non-lethal rubber shells loaded, Rust stepped out of the locker room and into the bright lights of the combat stage.
The prickly feeling in the back of his knees began to act up again as Rust moved to join Crazy Grey in the middle of the stage. All around him, hundreds of his peers scrutinized his every movement.
This wasn't like Beacon, which had been a small, exclusive academy. Atlas Academy had a much, much higher student population; stage fright in Combat Class was a common affliction.
"Ready, Zephin?" Crazy Grey huffed, cocking his head and looking up at the boy in question.
Grey's appearance was much more haggard up close. His beady black eyes were considerably bloodshot and his clothes stank of burnt gunpowder and mothballs. If Rust looked close he could swear that he saw the silhouette of a flask in his shirt pocket...
"It's actually 'Zephyr', sir…" Rust cleared his throat and tried to sound polite.
"Huh?" Grey sniffed, his beady eyes widening. "I asked if you were ready, not for your life story…"
"I'm ready…" Rust drew his lips into a thin line.
"That's good," Grey slowly nodded, his tone mysterious and unreadable. "You're certainly faster at changing than uh… what's her name?"
"Rose?" Rust quirked an eyebrow.
"Right," Grey waved his hand dismissively. "You kids all look alike to me…"
Rust lifted his chin and peered around the room in confusion. The hundreds of students in the room had a varying and diverse range of appearances and styles. Rust scarcely wondered how anyone could be mixed up with someone else…
"I'm here!" An airy voice called from the other side of the auditorium. Rust watched as his opponent came hobbling out of the locker room door and hastily jogged to the center stage.
Rose Blanche was a short girl standing in the mid five-foot range. Her long hair reflected her namesake, coloured in gradient tones of white and light red. She was dressed in a professional but stylish ensemble, complete with a waist coat and stiletto boots.
Clenched in her small, pale hands was a baseball bat almost as tall as its wielder. It was wrapped with carefully constructed steel rings and decorated with rose motifs.
"Sorry," the girl wobbled momentarily in place. "I'm here sir."
"Took you long enough," Crazy Grey mumbled. He emitted a low growl when his eyes scanned down to view her high-heeled boots. "What. Are. Those?"
"St- stilettos?" Rose looked down in confusion. "Sir?"
Crazy Grey sucked in a long intake of breath and pinched his nose in frustration.
"Class!?" The teacher roared. "Can anyone tell me the fifty-second rule on my 'how not to die' list?"
A single hand shot up from the sea of students. Rust recognized it as belonging to his team leader.
"Ahem," Mauve cleared her throat and quickly stood up. Her face betrayed no hint of nervousness and neither did her body language. "The fifty-second rule is: 'high-heels in battle results in both broken ankles and business for undertakers',"
"Correct!" Grey congratulated with a celebratory clap. "Great job, Tempestira!"
"It's Tempesta, sir!"
"Yeah, yeah," Grey waved his hand dismissively and turned back to Rust's opponent. "Why're you wearing heels?"
"I- I like them?" Rose's face burned a deep shade of red.
"I don't," Grey sniffed. "I'll let it slide this time, but next time you wear flats. Believe me when I tell you that the sound of ankle's breaking is… unpleasant. I know, I've broken plenty of them!"
Rust gulped, Rose looked equally perturbed. Deep down, Rust felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl across from him.
"I think they're cool," Rust offered with a nervous grin, shying away from Crazy Grey's glare. "Yeah…"
"Do you two want to trade shoes?" Grey alternated his pointer finger between Rose and Rust. "Huh?"
"I don't think she's my size," Rust nervously chuckled.
Grey sniffed the air. "Alright funny guy… enough talking! GO!"
"R- right now?" Rose stuttered, her grip tight on her bat.
Grey reached into his pocket and withdrew a small cap-gun. He pointed the barrel towards the ceiling and fired, the shot reverberating around the room. "GO!"
Rust yelped and leaped backwards when Rose's steel-lined bat smashed the ground at his feet. The force behind the weapon was enough to shatter the ground of the fighting stage.
The white and red haired girl didn't slow down, whirling around on her heels with surprising dexterity and rearing up her bat for a heavy strike. Rust whipped Ruination off his shoulder at the right moment, just barely parrying away the tip of the bat. Rose's arms moved with such speed that the air whistled whenever the striking head of the bat came down for a swing.
Sidestepping a strike, Rust hefted his maul and feinted to the left. He changed direction at the last moment, sweeping the bladed edge of the weapon horizontally to try and catch Rose around the torso. But Rust's opponent saw through the trick and leapt backwards, the tip of his weapon just barely scratching her aura.
Rust pressed forwards, spinning his maul in one hand to build momentum up for a strike. He snatched a vial of wind dust off his bandolier and crushed it in his brawny hand, feeling a cold sensation as the air pressure around him changed. An enhanced strike from his wind-assisted maul finally caught Rose on the upper arm. She shrieked and skittered away for safety, leaning on her bat for support.
For a moment, the opponents circled each other. But it was only a brief few seconds of respite for the two of them…
Rust blasted forwards with an incredible burst of speed, aided by his semblance. He kept the striking head of his maul low and behind him. At precisely the right moment he fired his shotgun, the recoil forcing the weapon into a downwards smash that would be hard to avoid.
Or not...
Rust choked and crumpled when Rose's steel wrapped bat slammed into his stomach. He curled around the weapon like a piece of twine and was sent crashing into the ground back-first.
His first attempt to get up failed when Rose smashed her bat onto him again. His hefty aura reserve flared up to protect him, but he could feel it weakening. It seemed as if Rose was keen to press the advantage she had. She brought the bat down again and again, wailing with fury as if she was trying to squash a particularly resilient bug.
But Rust was not a bug…
With a colossal roar the tall huntsman in training scrambled to his feet!
A bat smashed him back into the ground. Despite her short stature and demure personality, Rose hit like a speeding truck…
Seeing his window of opportunity closing fast. Rust settled onto his butt and used his limbs to scuttle backwards like a crab. Rose followed close behind him, smashing the bat around his feet with sloppy motions. Her assault was briefly delayed when Rust lashed his foot out, smashing her face with the heel of his armored boot.
With the brief moment of opportunity he had created for himself, Rust shoved out one hand and used the other to snatch another vial off his bandolier. He chucked the vial at Rose's feet and used his outstretched hand to channel his semblance.
For a moment, Rose's balance began to teeter. The sharpened tips of her high-heeled shoes smashed into the ground as she desperately tried to right herself, dropping her bat in the process. Finally, after what seemed like only a second, she fell to the ground with a crash.
Rust threw himself into a roll and snatched Ruination off the ground. He stood up and checked that it was still loaded before leering over the smaller girl.
"I-'' Rose panted like an elderly racehorse. "I concede…"
The auditorium broke out into a loud chorus of polite clapping. Rust slipped his maul onto his back before reaching out a hand to help the smaller girl up, which she accepted.
"Okay! Nice work, Zeph," Grey clapped his hands together and nodded in the boy's direction.
"It's uh… Zephyr, sir…"
"Yuh-huh," Grey clicked his tongue and turned his attention to Rust's opponent. "What's-yer-face… you alright?"
"Y- yes?"
"Good, next time don't wear heels," Grey snapped at the fuming girl. He spun around and faced the audience of students again. "Okay! Next fight!"
After another hour of fights, conjecture filled lectures, and general nonsense… Combat Class finally came to an end.
After Team MARS had joined the mass exodus from the room they made their way to the cafeteria. Dinner, like lunch, was a rather mundane affair with even more mundane food. Today's meal was beef wellington… which may or may not have been made of beef...
Mauve and Sage didn't seem to mind all that much, they dug in while Rust and Asher picked at their respective lumps of grey mystery meat.
After dinner there were no more classes for the day. Evenings at Atlas academy were usually occupied by alternating work shifts - one of the many strategies employed by the academy to instill discipline. But this wasn't always the case, and free evenings were a not too uncommon occurrence.
Thankfully, tonight was free…
"Alright…" Mauve called out as she tapped her fingers against her belt. "Are you three ready?"
…for team training...
"Good to go…" Sage replied. The wolf boy was standing a few feet away with his shield deployed.
"Yep!" Rust called from behind them. The imposingly tall boy had his maul slung across his back and his hands held out in preparation.
"Ready when you are," Asher reported, his voice sounding nasally due to his helmet. Mauve's partner was standing to her left, his gun absent from its resting place on his back. "Call it…"
Mauve crouched down into a low stance. She placed one hand on the ground to steady herself and moved the over hand back to gently grasp Static's sheath. "On three…"
"One…"
"Two…" Mauve's three teammates tensed.
"Three! Go!" Mauve shouted. Her three teammates darted around to fulfill their decided upon roles.
Asher blasted forwards in a flash of wispy grey, his semblance quickly closing the distance between his team and their target. Said target consisted of a single Atlesian droid, which had been powered down and left in a standing position.
Rust stayed planted where he was. But he thrust his arms out to begin manipulating the air in the room. Without the presence of existing wind currents his job was considerably harder; but he had been adamant about not wasting any dust crystals on a practice run.
Sage sprinted with impressive speed to get in front of Mauve. He ducked into a controlled slide and hefted his shield up to cover his body, as if he was a turtle.
With everyone in place, Mauve ran full-tilt at her green haired teammate. Sage grunted when Mauve leapt up and planted her feet on his shield. With a colossal heave, and some help from his semblance, Sage blasted Mauve high into the air.
As she soared, the lynx girl peered down at Asher, who was also fulfilling his role. Mauve intently watched as Asher, suddenly and without warning, was concealed by a massive puff of smoke… seemingly generated by his own body.
As soon as the cloud of smoke manifested Rust got to work. His wind manipulation semblance compressed the cloud of smoke into a tighter, denser space around the target droid.
All of her teammates' roles were fulfilled, and now it was time for Mauve's part. Charging up her semblance, she placed her hands on the sheaths of her knives but did not draw them, instead relying on the conductivity of her charging back to aid her semblance. Her skin was crackling with electricity by the time she got within ten feet of the ground.
Mauve landed in a crouch and slammed her fists into the floor, dispelling the electric charge she had accumulated. The bolts of electricity surged forwards and reacted with the dense cloud of smoke Asher created.
An electrified smokescreen… one of the few "team attack" ideas Mauve had dreamt up in the past few days. It was an attack that had been quickly deemed "too lethal" to use against people, but perfectly appropriate for dealing with Grimm.
The smoke began to dissipate after a few moments and the remaining electric charge seeped into the ground. Mauve stood up with a huff and took a moment to crack her knuckles. The unfortunate droid MARS had placed in the middle of the smokescreen had been fried beyond recognition or practical use.
"Good work," Mauve called out as she heard her teammates approach. "Rust, your speed is getting better."
"Thanks," Rust dusted off his arms for show. "I told you that we wouldn't need the dust crystals…"
"Right," Mauve nodded and relented. "Sage, that was a good push."
Sage wordlessly nodded.
"And Asher…" Mauve trailed off, looking around for her partner. "Asher?"
Rust and Sage joined her in peering around the room. Their fourth teammate was nowhere to be found.
"Here we go," Rust muttered. "Asher… I know you can hear me… stop trying to scare us!"
Mauve allowed a small smile to creep up the edges of her lips.
The lynx girl shrieked in shock and surprise when her partner materialized behind her. He wrapped his powerful arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground.
"Surprise!" Asher chuckled. "Got you t-"
The boy gasped when Mauve wiggled out of his arms with practiced ease. She maneuvered her way up and wrapped her legs tightly around his neck. With a tug and a spin Ashley was thrown off balance and onto his back; his neck still firmly clenched in a triangle choke.
The helmeted boy weakly tapped his hand against the ground.
"You were saying something?" Sage laughed as Mauve released her iron grip on her partner. The wolf boy extended a hand to help Asher back to his feet.
"Every damn time…" Asher grumbled. He reached his hands up and pulled off his helmet; he took a few moments to neatly push down his rumpled hair. "You're way too fast…"
"Practice makes perfect," Mauve smiled gently. "And you should know not to sneak up on m-"
"Cut!" Rust loudly called. He bristled when all eyes turned to him. "No flirting! This team is a car! Not a motorcycle! Sage and I are not going to be third and fourth wheels!"
Asher stuck his tongue out and Mauve stayed silent.
"So anyways, how did I do?" Asher turned his attention back to his leader.
"Pretty well! There was a lot more smoke than last time," Mauve complimented her partner. "The first time we tried this all you could conjure up was a pathetic little puff…"
"That describes Asher pretty well," Rust not-so-quietly snickered into Sage's ear. Rust pointed a finger down to point at the spot between his legs. "All he can muster up is a little puff…"
"Did you say something?" Asher scowled. Mauve seemed equally unamused.
"Anyways," Mauve waved her hand.. "Good work…"
"Thanks…" Asher mumbled and turned away. He held up his arm and watched intently as the smoke of his semblance manifested. The dark substance clung to his limb like morning fog over a field, lightly shrouding it from view. "To be honest I still don't know how it works… I just think about what I want it to do and it just... goes…"
"It's still a good skill," Sage offered. "Lots of potential…"
"Yeah," Asher's face darkened. "Right…"
His three teammates shifted uncomfortably for a moment.
"Have you..." Sage muttered. "Heard from your… friend?"
Asher tensed and raised a finger to tap his temple. "Radio silence…"
It was the truth… sort of. Asher hadn't heard a wink from the mysterious stranger for three weeks; and while the dream he had awoken from that morning had been strange, Asher could barely remember its contents…
"Nothing…?" Rust frowned. "I know we've brought this up before but… are you sure-"
"I didn't imagine him… or her… or them," Asher replied heatedly. He took a moment to breathe and his face softened. "It went on for months… they were real… they just haven't said much as of late."
"Are you… uh, still seeing that quack?" Rust smiled nervously.
"He is not a quack and I'm telling him you said that," Asher smirked. "He and I have a meeting set up tomorrow…"
"Good," Rust nodded and cleared his throat. "Good…"
An awkward silence settled over the team for a moment.
"Well, how about we call it for tonight?" Sage muttered as he checked his scroll. "It's getting late…"
The three male teammates of MARS nodded and turned to the door, which sat at the far end of the massive training room. They were stopped abruptly in their tracks when their only female teammate stomped in front of them and blocked the path.
"No!" Mauve held up a single finger. "It's not that late…"
"Mauve," Sage rubbed his eyes. "My eyes are burning-"
"That's because of the smoke!" Mauve interjected. Her amber eyes were burning with her usual intensity.
"I agree with Sage," Rust shrugged. "We've got early classes tomorrow too-"
"Not that early! And you always sleep in!"
Mauve turned her gaze towards her partner. Asher gave Mauve a non-committal shrug and gently shook his head.
"I'm tired…" Asher yawned. "And we still need to clean up…"
Mauve sighed and lifted her gloved hands to gently massage her temples. "I still think we could benefit from another hour here…"
"Mauve," Sage gently sighed. "We've already bumped up our training schedule because you said so… don't push it…"
"Push it?" Mauve raised an eyebrow and tensed. "We need all the training we can get…"
"But it's late," Sage groused.
"That doesn't matter," Mauve crossed her arms and planted her feet. "I want you three to give me one good reason why we shouldn't spend one more hour here… and I don't want to hear 'it's late' or 'I'm tired' or 'we have classes tomorrow',"
The three male members of MARS visibly deflated.
"You can't just ban all the good arguments," Asher frowned.
"That's not a valid response," Mauve raised her eyebrows and smirked in amusement. "It looks like we're staying…"
But they wouldn't…
Unbeknownst to them, several wisps of smoke from Asher's semblance had yet to dissipate. The small curls of steam and smoke drifted upwards and clung to the ceiling. During the duration of the argument the smoke detectors had done their job and well… detected the smoke.
The smile was wiped off Mauve's face when the room's sprinkler system flicked on. In less than a few seconds the team was left sopping wet.
The decision to turn in for the night became unanimous...