Welcome back dear reader, to the 13th chapter of 'The Darkling Thrush'!
As always, I'd like to thank those who left a review: noone297, Baoh joestar, jin0uga and winddemon199, thanks for the reviews guys! I don't know how many times I can say thank you but I'm going to keep saying it. Thank you for your constant support.
This chapter starts off on a bit of a somber note. When I initially started writing this particular chapter, a lot of crap happened over the weekend that influence this Author X entry, so I'm sorry if it gets a little topical.
But, anyways, enough with me talking. Here's chapter 13.
XIII
The Tyger and the Lamb: Part 3
From The Desk of Author X
Shining Beacon Contributor Colum
An Artist died in Vale last night. I didn't know him.
For us Huntsmen, or rather, Huntsmen in training, death is only a natural part of the gig. We kill Grimm, they kill us. It's the circle of life.
Schnee Duct Corporation stocks are at an all-time high. The 40th Vytal Festival, celebrating the end of years of war, is fast approaching. The White Fang are perpetrating violence more than ever.
This is the world we line. Where the industrial military complex profits, where war is celebrated and grudges are never forgiven. The world of a huntsman is not one of kindness, but filled with buckets asking for donations of blood, our blood. It's a messy world we live in.
But that's our world, not theirs. People exist beyond the endless fighting. Some bake, others farm, and special few, the talented ones seek to make something else of their skills. Entertainers live in a world with heart ache, but they rise above it to make the masses smile.
An Artist died last night, killed by a member of the White Fang.
I didn't know him. These worlds we live in, the ones where Huntsmen dwell with our suicide missions and galvanizing corporations. And the ones where the masses, the crowds and civilians who just want something more than the blood, where they can smile and be fearless.
These are worlds that should never mix.
What time was it? Russel asked himself mentally as he began to stir awake. His vision was murky, the back of the young man's head pounding. The last thing Russel recalled was his marching to Beacon Tower. He had something important to discuss with Headmaster Ozpin. Now if only he could remember what that was.
Russel attempted to move around, only to discover he found himself bound to what felt like the legs of a chair by rope. Russel's vision began to clear slightly, he could see sunlight shining in through a window. A dark figure paced back and forth before him. He hadn't even realized how muddled his hearing was, he could piece together muted phrases, bits and words from whoever was with him.
Was he in a dorm room? Russel asked himself as he tried to regain his bearings. He shook his head, hoping things would start to make sense. Russel's vision cleared fully and then he really took in his surroundings. He was in a dorm room, but it wasn't his own. The beds were thrown together, very shoddily mind you, to emulate bunk beds. Russel doubted a lot of thought went into the design process. If anyone so much as weighed over two hundred pounds he was sure the ropes holding the beds in the air would give.
Was he in an all girl's room? Russel began to wonder as he caught a whiff of some sort of perfume. What the hell was he doing here? Russel wondered, his thoughts then drew to his marching up to meet with Ozpin. Russel wondered if he made it and asked the graying Headmaster whatever it was he had to question him about. Maybe he'd gotten the worst kind of answer and gone out drinking again.
He got blackout drunk, came back to Beacon, got frisky with some chick. Case closed. That still left several questions, such as how the hell was he going to get out of the chair?
"Good, you're awake." Russel glanced to the window, following a dry feminine voice. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Blake Belladonna.
"Oh, Blake." Russel blinked in genuine surprise. "Tell me did we do anything last night?"
"It's still Sunday." Blake deadpanned.
"Oy, I got blackout drunk on the same day?" Russel questioned, eyeing the member of Team RWBY suspiciously. "Did we do anything, me and you…?"
"No." Blake deadpanned once more.
"Dukes." Russel frowned, snapping his fingers. He was at least hoping he could've walked away from his current situation with one hell of a story to tell, but guess not. Still, that left the question of why he was tied to a chair.
"So if we weren't getting kinky, why the hell am I in your room tied to a chair?" Russel motioned to his current situation with his head. Both Russel's arms and legs were tie to the legs of the chairs.
Blake didn't respond. If Russel didn't know any better, he would've thought the ninja of Team RWBY was sizing him up. But he didn't know any better did he? He didn't know the girl standing before him at all.
"What the hell's going on here Blake?" Russel asked harsher, his patience growing thin.
Blake silent reached behind her back. The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew tense when Blake revealed Gambol Shroud and took aim at Russel. "Let's talk 'Russel'." Blake muttered darkly.
Russel's eyes darted at the gun suddenly trained on his forehead. Between getting your brains blown out and chatting with the woman holding the murder weapon, the choice was a no brainer. "Talking's good." He said simply.
Blake lowered her weapon, her silent expression becoming one filled with unnatural hate that was beyond Russel's understanding. "What's Adam planning?" Blake demanded as she began to walk circles around the tied up Russel.
Russel followed every one of Blake's movements. They were rehearsed, whatever the hell was happening, Blake had experience with this sort of thing. And that worried the young man bound to a chair. Blake played with the gun in her hand, but maintained eye contact with Russel. Without a doubt an intimidation tactic.
Was this some sort of game to her? Russel thought as Blake made another pass around him. Well tough luck Blake, Russel played games and was very good at them.
"Adam?" Russel asked, genuinely having no idea what Blake was talking about.
"Don't play dumb Russel. If that even is your real name." Blake glared menacingly at the chair bound boy.
"Questioning the validity of my name?" Russel raised a brow. "I don't that's related to whoever this 'Adam' guy is."
"You like to talk shit don't you, Russel?" Blake asked as she stopped with her pacing. Now standing directly behind Russel, Blake quietly reeled back her leg. Before Russel could muster a witty retort, Blake swiftly kick the chair forward.
Russel let out a yelp in surprise before slamming face first into the carpeted floor. "You really like it rough, don't you Blake?" Russel muttered awkwardly as his cheek was firmly mushed against the floor.
"Why did Adam send you here?" Blake asked darkly before kicking Russel over so he was looking up at the ceiling. "What're you planning?"
Russel just stared at Blake, not giving her the satisfaction of knowing she had any power over him. He didn't know what Blake was running on about, and he didn't care. "The hecks got you so riled up Belladonna?" Russel said with his trademark shit eating grin.
A heeled boot came crashing down against Russel's face, cutting the young man's cheeks against his teeth. Russel coughed and began to gag on the sudden flow of blood.
"Carpets are red enough to hide a little mess." Blake said in her usual deadpan tone, but there was a darkened edge to her words as she leered at Russel. Beneath her heel, Russel spat blood, letting some drip down the sides of his mouth. "Now answer my damn questions."
The Team CRDL member spat up blood once more and stared up meeting Blake's gaze. "I don't have to do anything I don't want to, Belladonna." He laughed.
Again, Blake curb stomped the boy. "I'm not playing games here, Russel. Answer my damn questions."
"Not playing games? Feh." Russel coughed up blood once more. "I am."
"I know about your weapons, Russel." Blake reached down, grabbing ahold of Russel and with all her might, the resident ninja tossed the boy across the room, slamming him against a wall.
If it wasn't for the fact Russel had an aura, he might not have been able to tolerate the punishment Blake was dishing out. Landing in another awkward position, Russel stared sideways as Blake approached once more.
"Adam. Talk. Now. While you still have a jaw." Blake threatened menacingly as she towered over Russel.
"Who the fuck is Adam?" Russel glared at Blake's shoe, the one she'd used to stomp him. The Thrush then spat blood over the tip of her shoe. He then looked up to see whatever expression Blake was making in response to his action. He was hoping for something in between a mix of disgust and anger.
But instead, Russel found only that cold, calculating stare on Blake's face once more. "Oh come on? You aren't going to indulge me?" Russel remarked. "At least call me an asshole or something. I just spat up blood on your shoes. That's more than Arc's ever done to your friends. Vomiting on Yang and what not."
"Do you get off on this?" Blake asked seriously. In her position it wouldn't be too much of a leap to assume such of Russel. He was practically begging for her to hurt him. "All you have to do is answer my questions."
"You knocked me out and tied me to a chair." Russel laughed mockingly. "And then you pulled a gun on me. Answer your questions or Fuck You?" Blake nodded. "Fuck You."
Blake kicked Russel once more, this time getting a pained response from the boy. "You don't owe Adam anything. Quit protecting him."
"Adam? He that guy who got killed last week?" Russel asked. "You know, the one in the Author X article?" Blake just kicked him again in response.
"Enough with the games." Blake spoke coldly, once again reaching down and grabbing Russel. She then dragged the chair back to the center of the room, setting him back upright facing the window.
"You don't read Author X do you?" Russel asked, chuckling slightly as he focused his aura around his wounds. He wasn't as adept at healing as the next guy, but he could keep his ugly mug from puffing like a blowfish. "I don't read them much myself." He just kept on chuckling. "I prefer the illustrations in the back. A cat that hates Mondays? Well shit I can get behind that."
"Hm. I'll indulge you, Russel." Blake scoffed as she reached up to her head and removed her bow. "I hate Mondays." She said as she tossed her bow onto her bunk in one swift fluid motion.
It was the shock of a lifetime. Never once had Russel suspected that Blake Belladonna, that girl who failed at hiding the fact she read smut books in the back of combat class, was truly a master of hiding the fact that she was in reality a Faunus.
"Whoa." Was all Russel could say.
"I pity you, I really do." Blake said, turning to face the window, in turn not noticing how wide Russel's eyes had just become in utter shock. "The White Fang used to be more than terrorists. They used to stand for something, equality, justice, peace." Blake spoke longingly. Russel didn't need to see her face to know what was running through her head. Blake had provided him with enough context clues to make an educated guess.
"You're White Fang?" He said, not in his usual heckling tone, but in one than emulated his irritation.
"I was, once." Blake spoke in a whimsical manner that referred to self-reflection. "Adam doesn't talk about me much does he?" She turned back around to face Russel, now brandishing Gambol Shroud once more. "Why should he, I only walked out on him after all."
It was just Russel's luck. He always got the crazy ones. So the Thrush cracked a smile and shrugged. "Cool story. Sure you don't want to add the bits and pieces about your tortured past? You sound like one of those folks who has one."
Blake smacked Russel across the face with her weapon, this time knocking a tooth out. Russel just silently watched as the premolar rolled to a stop beneath one of the beds, an unamused look on his face.
"Whatever your assignment was, it ends today. The White Fang will not terrorize Beacon." Blake declared. "Who else is here? Is your whole Team in on it? Are they White Fang too? I would never have suspected given what you four did to poor Velvet in the Cafeteria."
Russel just stared at lake with a face that spoke a thousand words. He didn't know whether to be insulted or infuriated for being associated with a world renowned terrorist group. "Why would you think I'm White Fang?" It was Russel turn to speak in an utterly dry deadpan fashion. "Do you see antlers sticking out of my ass or something? Cause, this would be the first I've ever heard of."
"I don't need to see any Faunus traits to know you're one of us." Blake retorted a matter of fact like.
"You just didn't want to check my doodle did you?" Russel spoke crassly.
"I had my suspicions from the get go." Blake said, not playing into whatever angle Russel had with that immature comment of his. She would never admit it, but this was by far the most difficult interrogation she had ever been a part of.
Of course back in the White Fang it was Adam who did most of the heavy lifting. She always turned her head whenever things got too much for her. But she'd picked up enough tricks. Though she would never be as effective as Adam, he was too much of a monster, something Blake never wanted to be.
"You and your team, acting like school bullies. I t had to be a cover. Ozpin would never let in anyone so terrible." Blake said, banking on the all-knowing big brother authority figure that Ozpin was. "And then I got a good look at your weapons. I spotted our secret White Fang sigil. The one which we used to communicate with other members, to let us know we were never alone."
Now Blake had him cornered. Try and try as Russel may, Blake was in full control of the situation. He was tied up, bound, devoid of freedom of movement. Blake had tossed him across the room several times over and hurt him in a show of force; that anything that happened within this room happened because of her will. And now she had him trapped, she'd found him out. All was lost. Now all she had to do was sit back and wait for the rat he was to break down and attempt to broker some sort of deal.
Russel just sighed, but not in defeat like Blake expected. "My weapons? Really?" Russel sighed once more. "You'd have found more concrete evidence by checking my damn doodle, Blake."
"I'm not a pervert, I'd never do such a thing." She affirmed.
"Oh knock it off, we all know you read Ninjas in Love in class." Russel accused, causing Blake to actually show a shred of genuine emotion.
"I got those daggers from some dead guy, I don't even know how to work them." Russel practically shouted.
Blake then backhanded Russel with the butt end of Gambol Shroud. "Quiet, do you want the whole floor to hear you?"
"Yes." Russel delivered bluntly.
"So you really expect me to believe you came to Beacon with someone else's weapons, fully expecting to get by with using them, even if you didn't know how to use them?" Blake said aloud, not buying Russel's story.
"Well when you put it like that it sounds preposterous." Russel shrugged. "Would it help if I told you the guy I got them from was White Fang?"
"Depends if I know him." Blake shrugged.
"He was really tall and could coat his body in metal." Russel said, recalling the past owner of his daggers.
"The Iron nail?" Blake raised a brow, not out of surprise but in alarm at the description of one of the White Fang's most brutal members.
"Sure, I guess. We didn't trade names or anything." Russel rolled his eyes.
"I don't believe you. The Iron Nail can't die."
Things were about to escalate even further, with Blake being skeptic over Russel's story and Russel being adamant about how completely factual the events he described were. But then then the door to the room began to open. But the door stopped suddenly as Blake had double locked it for privacy.
"Blake! Why's the door locked?" Ruby's voice called from behind the door.
"She's probably indecent." Said Weiss in her ever posh tone.
Blake's eyes widened, she swore she should've had more time. Her Team wasn't supposed to return until around half past six. She wasn't done with interrogating Russel. Risking getting caught in a near unexplainable situation, Blake's thoughts raced in all sorts of directions. How was she going to explain Russel being tied to a chair without having it seem weird?
Seizing his opportunity for freedom, Russel began to call out for help. But Blake's reflexes were faster than his ability to shout, as the closet Faunus quickly snatched up a pair of sock from a nearby drawer and shoved them into Russel's still blood drenched mouth.
She then ran off to grab a roll of tape leftover from Dr. Oobleck's recent group project. Before Russel could spit out the socks that had been violently shoved into his mouth, Blake ran over and ran the roll of tape around his head, taping his mouth shut.
"Make a sound and I'll kill you." Blake whispered threateningly before picking Russel up and walking to Team RWBY's closet. She quickly opened the wardrobe and placed Russel inside, doing her best not to cause too much of a commotion.
And then Blake shut the wardrobe, leaving Russel fuming in darkness. This was not how he had foreseen his Sunday turning out. The soul remaining Thrush could hear Blake undoing the lock outside.
"Sorry about that." Blake apologized in a surprisingly sweet tone Russel couldn't help but raise his eyes at. "Weren't you guys supposed to be at a movie?"
"Turned out to be Rated R. And as a responsible sibling, I deemed it inappropriate for Ruby to watch." Russel could hear Yang say in a surprisingly mature tone, completely unlike what he'd come to expect from such a flirt.
"Oh come on! I kill monsters! I drink milk! Why can't I watch Deadpool?" Ruby whined. Russel couldn't help but attempt to laugh at how childish she sounded.
"What was that?" Weiss said, having seemingly heard Russel's attempt at laughing.
"I didn't hear anything." Blake quickly said. "Hey, if you guys are staying in, why don't I hang up your coats?"
There was a hearty round of thank yous, leaving Russel puzzled at what Blake was planning. The next thing he knew, the wardrobe opened with Blake glaring at him menacingly before throwing Yang, Ruby and Weiss' jackets over him, essentially burying him in layered clothing and closing the door.
Now trapped under several layers of clothing, Russel was now faced with the prospect of dying from heatstroke in a confined space. But that was just another form of torture he would have to endure.
"Is that blood on the ground?" Ruby pointed out.
"Gross, who's on their time of the month?" Yang said half-jokingly.
Russel grumbled. Kill him now.
On a serious note, the Author X article for this chapter was inspired by every crazy incident that happened over the weekend. I want to wish everyone well, and that I'm sorry for the loss of life. There's too much hate in the world and all it does hurt.
I believe I mentioned this chapter back in the 2nd arc, that this was essentially just Blake and Russel spending an entire chapter talking to each other.
I think I justified why Russel doesn't just tell Blake his side of the story immediately well. He's Russel, he's an asshole, he's not going to play along. I set it up with his confrontation with Ozpin at the beginning of the Arc. Russel plays the game, he's good at it too. The body language, the self validation, he knows it he's done it before and its just him doing what he can to get the best possible outcome of the situation.
Blake's reasons are self explanatory. She believes Russel's a member of The White Fang, that brings out the worst in her. And that just means beating the snot out of Russel.
Next update, will be soon, hopefully. I wrote this chapter while I was on vacation in Las Vegas. I don't know if I wrote anything else. 'Til then friends. Later Days. And stay safe.