Welcome one and all to another chapter of 'The Darkling Thrush'!

As always I'd like to thank those who left some words. Thank you Nordlending, Ussop, CoolHandJaune, MagisterShiryu. jin0uga and Baoh joestar! As always I can't not tell you how much I appreciate the reviews.

I recall saying this would've been out a few days ago, but this chapter in particular has been in the works since a little before and after I finished the first arc. I always knew moving forward there would be a confrontation with Marlowe and I wrote this basic draft that showed off the conflict. But I spent the last couple days just trying to get this chapter right. It went from varying degrees of 'WTF' to 'OMG'. I don't know what it is now because I've worked on it for so long. So I'll just leave that to you the reader to decide...

Well enough with my yapping. On with the chapter.

XXV

Who Dares Wins: Conclusion

"So when did you become the White Fang's bitch?" Russel asked crass as ever.

Almost on the entire other side of town, the green haired member of Team CRDL found himself in the company of man he once upon a time would've called family. Hell, he might've even called him dad, seeing as they were that close. But now they found themselves sitting in a quaint little living room, seated directly across from one another with a glass coffee table separating them.

Hegemony Marlowe, the largest land owner and well respected figure in Oakwood sat in his seat with his legs crossed, a displeased look on his face. He'd known Russel for most of the young boy's life, but even the years spent around him could never prepare Marlowe for the young Thrush's pottymouth.

"It was more of a mutual relationship." Marlowe said with a wave of his hand, not at all denying his involvement with the White Fang. After all, there was nothing to be gained from disputing such a fact. Russel came to him, there would be no pulling a fast one over that boy's head. No last minute take backs, no denying guilt, no pleas of innocence.

"Elaborate." Russel demanded lowly, doing his best not to raise his voice.

Marlowe could see the anger boiling inside the young Thrush. Last night he'd heard the gunshots ringing loudly in the nearby forest, he'd heard of the White Fang being discovered and their operation completely shut down by a pair of in-training Huntsmen. And by the looks of Russel's injuries, the poor kid had been put through the gauntlet last night. He probably ran into The Iron Nail even. If that was the case, then good lord he was pissed.

"You help the White Fang make off with all of Oakwood Academy's Grimm and you get a couple acres of land out of it all? That doesn't sound too much like a mutual relationship. There were hundreds of Grimm under that school, you know. You got scammed, Marlowe." Russel spoke in an attacking manner. Marlowe had seen the boy do it before, so he wasn't fazed by such a tactic.

"Land wasn't the only reason I helped them." Marlowe said a matter of fact, shooting a cold glare at the young Thrush sitting opposite of him. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Russel. Marlowe uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair. "They offered me more than that, Russel. They offered me a chance to be part of something bigger."

"I don't give a shit about what they offered you, Marlowe. All I care about is what you did because of it." Russel sneered. The boy just shook his head and leaned back in his seat. He cracked a smile and laughed hollowly. "You were working with them on the night of the fires, weren't you?" Russel couldn't help but laugh as the notion dawned on him. And so the Thrush just continued to laugh, as if he'd been told the world's greatest joke. Once more, Marlowe shifted in his seat, obviously unnerved by the sight.

But Russel was aware that Marlowe was familiar with his playbook of tricks. How he could talk circles around a teacher, a public official or peer. It was always a combination of words, tone and actions that genuinely unsettled people. The fact Russel had gotten such a response from Marlowe told the young Thrush all he needed to know. Beneath the cushion of Marlowe's set, there was some sort of object. A weapon, Russel deduced.

"I could've just as easily done it differently, you know." Marlowe said, well aware that Russel had picked up on the angle he was currently working. "They set fire to crops and only a few homes. If not for my intervention, The Iron Nail and his men would've killed everyone. The whole ordeal would've been written off as a tragedy."

There was an obvious double meaning to Marlowe's words. The old man very much could've done things differently, and he could very well do things differently now. He could've gone for the gun the moment they'd sat down. The whole ordeal would've been written off as a tragedy as Marlowe would pass along some false story of seeing the young Thrush run off in some bloodlust craze, never to be seen again.

"Oh it would've been a tragedy wouldn't it? So bad the rest of the town would never let you buy the land, not without a fight at least." Russel sneered angrily. "Everyone in this towns a boonie goat fucker, but they at least got the decency to feel, to mourn."

"I'm not your enemy, Russel. Everything I've done, I did to protect Oakwood, to protect our neighbors and by extension their neighbors and so on." Marlowe said hopefully. Russel picked up on the tone and couldn't resist raising a brow in confusion. Marlowe was breaking out his grandfather voice, as he liked to call it, trying to appeal to Russel the only way he knew worked. "If only you knew what was coming, Russel."

"Rather ominous thing of you to say." Russel quipped.

"Oakwood's farmland, Russel. Farmland for miles and miles as far as they can see. It's the ass end of Vale, secluded enough as no one would possibly come barking by unless someone alerted the authorities." Marlowe muttered. "After all, every army needs to eat."

Russel's eyes shot open immediately at the mention of 'army'. "You really are the White Fang's bitch." He said harshly. "And they'll just keep you alive, eh? Keep you as some sort of figure head to keep the locals all doped up on merriment, oblivious at how hard they'd fallen. The damn academy's closed for goodness sake and not one of them batted an eye."

The young Thrush just shook his head in disbelief, realizing fully well that Marlowe and the White Fang's plans would've succeeded and still very much could. The White Fang had the town wrapped completely around their finger and they didn't even know it, they still wouldn't have known if not for his and the rest of their team's intervention. Hell, they wouldn't have found out about Ruddy and Burgundy's deaths unless they hadn't shown up.

And then Russel froze in place. Marlowe rose a curious brow, wondering just what was going on in the boy's head. "Did you know about Ruddy and Burgundy?" Russel finally managed to ask.

Marlowe remained still under Russel's ever watching gaze. He pondered how to approach the question, but then the old man realized any and all attempts to deceive Russel would prove futile. He wasn't asking for confirmation, he didn't need that. Russel was smart enough to piece it all together. How could Marlowe not know fellow townsfolk were getting killed off in the forest?

"Yes." Marlowe admitted quietly. "But that's not how I wanted it to go down."

"You wanted everyone to live in your little bubble, didn't you?" Russel laughed tauntingly. "How exactly did you want it to go down then, eh?"

"I wanted to buy them off." Marlowe answered quietly. But there was a tinge of anger to his words, something boiling beneath it all. After all, here he'd been just talking about wishing to protect his fellow townsfolk and then two were murdered under his watch. He must've sounded like the biggest hypocrite in the world. And one glance at Russel just confirmed Marlowe's feelings. That unforgiving grin of his, how Russel mocked him.

"They said no, of course." Marlowe glanced at the dirty wooden floor, where the dirt from outside had seeped itself into the boards over the years. "They couldn't get over the fact one of their friend's Father died on the night he Iron Nail set fire to the farms."

"And then you had them killed, didn't you?" Russel asked coldly. Marlowe's silence was the only confirmation he needed. "But not before they called in the Grimm sightings, right?" Marlowe looked up away from the dirty old wooden floor a look of surprise on his face, one that asked how Russel could possibly have known. And then there was that judging look on Russel's face again.

A look of disgust, one that evoke shame out of the receiver. It carried more weight that probably another other look of contempt Marlowe had seen in his years, mainly because he knew the boy giving it. Marlowe knew all about those clever little mind games Russel would play on people, such as Marie-Anne during their Oakwood Academy graduation ceremony. It spoke a myriad of words to Marlowe, after all, if an irredeemable delinquent like Russel could be appalled by someone's actions, they really must've done something truly heinous.

"You and The Iron Nail went to a lot of trouble to throw us off the scent with the Creeps." Russel answered the unasked question. "When we showed up, no doubt one of those White Fang sentries like the Inn Keeper called it in. Then the bald bastard who can coat his ass with metal lets loose a pack of Grimm to throw us for a loop. We killed them and then you showed up, putting on quite the show by thanking us, offering us dinner. We would've went back to Beacon none the wiser, too busy off the high of being town heroes."

"And you really should've." Marlowe glared as Russel taunted him once more. For all his effort, Marlowe found it futile to shine off Russel's remarks. Though Marlowe had the gun, it was really Russel who was in control. That boy could make God do a double take. All he had to do was grin.

"Maybe if it went down the way it should have, your Mother and Father would be proud of you." Marlowe said, hoping to turn the tables on Russel. The old man just watched as the young Thrush's expression twisted from that stupid grin of his to one anger. "Well I'd ask." Marlowe muttered darkly. "But it seems you killed them both. As usual, you ruin everything. How am I not surprised?"

Russel remained silent, his only response being the harsh glare he was giving Marlowe. And just like that, Marlowe was in control again. It was the old man's turn to smirk. So he did. He cracked a smile, the kind he'd break out during his public addresses or during town meetings, or that one time he had to preside over a friend's Father's funeral.

"You killed your Mother at birth. Killed your Father over the years by existing. And then your relation to Ruddy and Burgundy was their undoing." Marlowe spoke harshly. "It's just like your Father always said, what he always called you. 'Killer'. You kill everything Russel, everyone's hopes such as your Father's, you kill their dreams such as your Mother's."

"You ruin lives Russel. No doubt you've gone on to ruin more at Beacon like you did here with Marie-Anne and all the other brats." It was Marlowe's turn to shake his head in disgust. "So I ask you this, quit ruining lives, quit killing, quit interfering. Allow me to see this through. Allow me to save lives for once."

But Russel remained silent. The young Thrush shifted in his seat, a less than pleased expression on his face. Marlowe knew the boy for years, his mouth had always been his most dangerous weapon. Those mind games he'd play with the boys and girls in school yards and especially with his Father. But it was when he was silent, like how he was now, that worried Marlowe.

This entire time Russel had been more or less predictable. He'd managed to get under Marlowe's skin, like how he did with everyone, so that wasn't a cause for concern. But now, even with his angry expression which spoke volumes on its own, any insight into Russel's mind was shut out. So then Marlowe joined Russel in silence, waiting to see what the boy would do next.

Perhaps this was another one of his games? Marlowe thought to himself as he felt every moment that passed. There wasn't much to do other than accept time itself when the guy sitting across from you had daggers for eyes. "Come on now, Russel, you aren't seriously going to ignore everything I just said?" Marlowe asked, breaking his silence in an attempt to get a response out of the boy.

Russel remained silent and stared angrily into Marlowe's eyes. The young Thrush's hands formed fists on the chair's armrests, something that Marlowe took note of with a quick glance out of Russel's gaze. But Marlowe found himself staring back at Russel once again, quickly deciding that this must've been one of the boy's mind games. Just by looking away even for a moment, Marlowe had given Russel back control over the situation.

So then it devolved into a staring match. No doubt the boy sitting across from him was absolutely livid about the whole affair. And in his pursuit of dominance, Marlowe continued in his attempts to pick Russel apart, all in an effort to break the boy's stare.

"I told The Iron Nail about you, but you already knew that no doubt." Marlowe said, not noticing Russel's slight but firm thumb movements in his left hand. "He asked a lot of questions, about your home life and what kind of boy could leave three men and women to die at the hands of an Ursa. That's another three names you can add to your ever growing list of people you've killed Russel."

"The Iron Nail became convinced that you couldn't love. I never agreed with him, how could I? I was like the Father you wish you had." Marlowe said, unable to resist laughing at the entire situation.

"I don't know what you were thinking, marching up here the way you did." Marlowe commented. "What did you have to accomplish, what were you trying to prove? There's no way you've been stalling this entire time. The Atlesian military outside would've just barged in long before now." He said as he attempted to gain a better understanding of Russel's thought process.

After all, what was there to achieve? Russel had clearly put the pieces together himself, maybe his silence so far was just a formality, a sign of respect and appreciation for the years they'd known each other. Maybe Russel was gearing up to appeal to Marlowe's humanity, to see the error of his ways. But that didn't sound like the boy he knew.

"Hmph. Given me a big ass headache over this mess." Russel scoffed, breaking his long silence. And then Marlowe mentally claimed victory, he'd broken Russel back down, just like he'd intended. Now it was the old man's turn to take control of the situation. Maybe he could avoid a full on fight after all. All he had to do now was appeal to Russel, about that familial bond they'd established over the years and ask him to join him in his endeavors.

"I didn't think about what would happen if I came here." The young Thrush said honestly, snapping Marlowe out of his train of thought. Soon enough that damn smile of Russel's creeped back onto his battered and bruised face. "But now I got a really good idea." He made a mock gun out of his right hand and pointed it at Marlowe while his left remained folded in a fist. "Draw." He nodded knowingly at the seat cushion Marlowe sat on.

So that was what it would come down to. The inevitable conclusion of things. And then Marlowe reached beneath his seat cushion and pulled out the gun he'd stashed there some time ago. He mentally patted himself on the back, it always paid to be prepared. As soon as he'd drawn the handgun he'd started firing blindly, more as a reactionary motion than a planned one. With Russel firmly seated in front of him the old man couldn't waste the chance to get the boy while he was easy to kill. Marlowe was old and a fist fight was beyond him now.

But as Marlowe slammed his index finger against the trigger for a second time, the old man then found his right eye shutting reflexively as something had suddenly become lodged against it. With half his vision clouded, Marlowe couldn't easily see Russel. In order to compensate for his lack of vision, Marlowe turned his head fully to the right in order to get Russel back in view. Only for it to be too late.

Before Marlowe knew it Russel was right beside him, having quickly jumped out his seat, completely dodging the first and second shots. And now he was wrestling with Marlowe for the gun. Marlowe was quickly overwhelmed by the youth and thrown out of his seat and onto the floor. Russel had taken the gun from him and now stood victoriously with it in hand.

Marlowe attempted to open his eye only to feel something odd slapped against it. So the old man busied himself with attempting to pluck whatever was in his eye out while Russel checked the handgun. To Russel's surprise, the handgun had dust slugs. He removed one from the clip to hold it and inspect before then throwing the magazine back into the handgun and aiming it at the fallen Marlowe, the dust slug he'd removed remaining in his hands.

The old man then finally removed what had lodged itself in his eye and held it up to the light for a better look. Marlowe blinked, recognizing the object to be a fingernail. He then turned to Russel for an explanation. The young Thrush held up his left hand, revealing he'd ripped out his index fingernail during their staring contest.

"You bastard." Marlowe chocked on the words as Russel began to walk around him.

With his back now facing the front door, Russel then aimed the handgun at Marlowe and firmly on the trigger. With unforgiving and judging eyes, Russel stared down at the old man and prepared to render verdict.

"You wouldn't dare." Marlowe growled lowly. "I know you. I know you, Russel. You wouldn't dare do this." He said, staring beyond the barrel of the gun and stared into Russel's eyes. But Russel remained unmoving. His finger wrapped around the trigger was firm, never quivering. "Not to me. You wouldn't do this to me! I'm the one man, the one person alive you love! You wouldn't do this to me!"

But Russel remained silent. His expression softened slightly, but his resolve wasn't swayed, not in the slightest. And Marlowe knew it, he saw it in the boy's eyes. And then he choked, as if he were about to cry. But the old man didn't. He just shook his head in vain.

"This is what it comes to then, eh?" The old man said as shakily. "You're just going to shoot me like a cold blooded killer then? Thats what your Father called all them years, Russel? Huh? Killer?!" He shouted as the fear of death welled up in his soul. "Maybe if you didn't kill the ones you loved, then it wouldn't be so bad then, right? But that's your claim to fame now, isn't it 'Killer'? You can't stop killing those you love can you?" And for a moment, as Marlowe stared into Russel's unforgiving eyes, he could've swore this was the end of it. He was going to pull the trigger and he'd be dead.

But then Russel lowered the gun and let out an exhausted sigh. His head hung low and he turned around, completely obstructing Marlowe's view of the gun. Russel then took the dust slug in his other hand, but a small sliver that shimmered magnificently in the light, and then he shoved it down the barrel until it was fully inside.

"Everyone I loved is dead." Russel said quietly before tossing the gun over his shoulder. The weapon landed with a loud thud on the wooden floor in front of Marlowe.

Marlowe's eyes went from Russel to the gun. He quickly weighed his options as Russel made his way to the front door. There was no way to guarantee Russel wouldn't rat him out to the authorities, even though he wished that the display of tossing the gun was Russel washing his hands from this business. Marlowe would forever be looking over his back. So he reached out and claimed the gun. He raised his gun and took aim at Russel's back. He'd failed the first time to shoot Russel today, he would not fail again, that he swore.

Russel didn't flinch as the whole house rocked. The explosion was loud and would surely garner the attention of the town. So he quickly pushed open the door and made his way down the path to the main gate. He didn't spare a look over his shoulder, because he never looked back.

The walk back into town proper was quite the sight. The neighbors all around along with some of the military stooges were rushing at the sight of the explosion. There were cries for water to douse the flames. The Horror, The Horror, one passerby shouted as the Marlowe homestead burned to the ground in the distance behind Russel.

Eventually Russel made it back to the clinic. He saw the custodians of the town physician running off on his way back in order to lend their services. That meant the entire one floor building was empty, allowing Russel to slip back inside and grab his belongings. He was out the door without a word.

Tracking down his team wasn't difficult, he found them waiting by an airship, courtesy of the Atlas Military. There was no sign of Port, which Russel found odd. But as soon as he stepped into their line of view, his team came rushing to meet him. They'd shout his name happily, apparently they hadn't checked on him since dropping him off at the local clinic.

Russel just nodded away when Dove openly assumed he'd just woken up, given hi disheveled appearance. In a cold sweat he'd woken, so Russel said. Upon questioning Port's absence, Sky merely offered the explanation that the old warhorse had gone on to fight another battle, one currently being waged just outside of Vale.

"We're not going." Sky said, sounding a bit disappointed.

"We've apparently done more than was asked of us." Dove muttered, sounding equally as disappointed as Sky. "Man I didn't even fight any White Fang."

"We were just about to go and fetch you." Cardin said in an oddly comforting tone. "We're about to head on out." The team leader gently patted the airship they stood beside. "Off to Beacon we go."

Russel just gave a shrug before Team CRDL boarded the ship. It was a military vehicle, it didn't have the comforts of some of the airship that had dropped them off just the other day. For starters, it was smaller, more cramped, and the cockpit was open to the passengers to look up over into.

Behind the wheel of sorts was an eccentric looking pilot who fiddle around with local radio stations. He then stopped his actions to then fire up the airship once Cardin gave him the signal. Team CRDL found their seats and the ship took off.

For the most part the team just talked, recapping the events of their mission. It was uneventful for Dove and Sky, which they couldn't help but dwell on. Dove couldn't help but wonder how things would have gone if he were there backing up Cardin when the White Fang came chasing after him. And Sky couldn't help but feel cheated out of not one, but two missions as Team CRDL was benched from participating in whatever it was Port had gotten himself involved in.

"Hey, Russel." Cardin glanced over at his partner as Sky and Dove began to theorize just what was going on at Mountain Glenn.

"What is it Cardin?" Russel let out a tired sigh as the pilot resumed his playing around with the radio. Eventually the pilot settled for a station that then began playing 'Move on Up' by Curtis Mayfield.

"You forgot these." Cardin dug into his duffel bag and removed Russel's daggers. He reached over and held them up for his teammate to take. Russel accepted the weapons with a thankful nod. "While we went looking for the guy you fought, I stumble on those bad boys. They need a little maintenance though. Whatever you were slicing out there was a lot tougher by the looks of it."

Russel just nodded along as he inspected his weapons. He glanced upwards at Cardin, it appeared the Winchester boy had something else to say. So Russel gave him his attention. "Those weren't the only things I found while we were up at the cemetery," Cardin said awkwardly. "We marched up that hill you were walking down for any sign of the guy you were fighting. Long story short, we didn't find him, but we found a busted up tombstone."

"I got curious." Cardin said honestly. "There was some blood on it, an eye on the ground nearby helped me piece together what happened. But it was what was written on it that really got my attention." The Winchester boy just gave his partner the most sincere and sympathetic look he could make. "I'm sorry about your dad, Russel."

Russel turned to look at his partner, studying the sincere look on his face. He turned away and processed Cardin's words. "Thanks Cardin." Russel finally said after spending much time dwelling on his words.

The airship flew off into the afternoon sky, when the sun was at its brightest and the land below at its fullest. The nearby seas were vast bodies of sapphires, the mountain crusts and molded flesh. Beacon tower stood tall and welcoming as always. If it had arms they would always be open, offering condolences and a foreign form of intimate contact known simply as a hug.

Team CRDL would never forget their time in Oakwood. Dove would bounce of the walls telling others tales about he'd helped injured civilians when the Creeps attacked. Sky mentioned his disdain for the backwater of such a wounderful country, but would recollect finer moments about the agriculture. The stoic Cardin wouldn't outright mention the time he fought the White Fang, he was too modest of a person to revel in such an achievement. But it was Russel who would be silent. It was on the ride back to Beacon when he silently decreed that he would never speak of this day again.

This chapter went through several rewrites. I just wanted to get it right. I'm very much happy with this version.

The original draft for this chapter I wrote back just as I finished up chapter 4. I knew exactly where I wanted this to go, but as I finally reached it in the story, I realized It wasn't where I wanted to take Russel nor was it where the story should be going. In the original draft, I had Russel and Marlowe end up struggling and falling down a flight of stairs into the cellar of Marlowe's home. Marlowe would've broken his back and try to get Russel to help him, but Russel would then viciously berate Marlowe and set off to make the entire scene appear as if Marlowe had fallen down the stairs himself and leave him to die. I realized that wasn't the character I've been developing. It takes out the choice factor and strange planning that Russel's known to do. So in this final draft Russel simply leaves the gun for Marlowe not caring what he did with it and decides to leave.

Russel is still an asshole in his own rite. He lies. He doesn't tell people about things like leaving four people to die in a cave with an Ursa.

We also see at the end one of the finer moments that was always planned, with Cardin and Russel. And this is really where their friendship begins. So expect more bromance between the two from this point onward.

Dove and Sky got sidelined for the most part, but expect to see Dove more in action during Arc 10. And Sky's got a story line seeded that will pick up, sometime after Arc 10, but he's still relevant.

Next Chapter: Interlude 5!

Next Arc: Downtime

'Til then! Later days!