Welcome back everyone to the 50TH Chapter! Wooooooo!
As always, I'd like to thank everyone who left a review last chapter! Thank You Vostok2142, Shaded Azure, Hellbreaker, Gabriel H. Sapphire, Void Butterfly, Baoh joestar and Bagration! I'd also like to take the time to say ya'll have some real kickass pennames.
Well, on with the show.
L
Brand New Day: Conclusion
When Cardin had abandoned his post the other night, he was certain there'd be some sort of punishment awaiting him, a reprimand or threat of some kind for his disobedience. But no such thing came, in fact, it was quite the opposite. General Ironwood himself met with him and applauded his efforts, citing his quick thinking and tact had not only prevented the spreading of a wildfire but also quelled a possible riot with nothing other than his words.
Up above the ground, atop the recently constructed watchtower, Cardin surveyed the repaired chain link fence that acted as the border of the Safe Zone and that of the buffer area between them and the Grimm infested city of Vale. The CRDL leader thought to himself of his strange fortune as he lazily peered beyond the fence and to the fallen buildings beyond where monsters lurked. The very same day he'd been accused of neglecting his duties as a night watch, he'd also been hailed for abandonment of said duty. It was funny in a strange messed up way that left a bitter taste in the Winchester's mouth.
Things were different now, more complex than they had any right to be. The former Beacon leader thought of Lance, how his former classmate had arrived to challenge him directly in front of a mob of people, to pin the blame of their destroyed food reserves onto the Atlesians. In a time when the only way to overcome their misfortunes was to pull together under a unified banner, it appeared that was the last thing anybody wanted to do.
But even caught up in his own thoughts and musings were not enough to distract the Winchester from his duties. He shot up at attention, his gaze beaming towards the ladder as he felt the rungs rocking against the platform he stood upon. As he recalled from memory he had the entire night shift to himself with no reprieve. It could very well have been Velvet, sparring a moment from her own duties to see him, or a soldier with new orders from Ironwood. But Cardin very much doubted either possibility, he just wasn't that lucky.
A long drawn out sigh emitted from the visitor as they made the long ascent, an inaudible curse murmured beneath their tired breathe. Cardin reached out for his mace as a cautionary measure, but then paused as a familiar green mohawk began to peek above the ladder.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Cardin frowned as Russel hauled himself onto the watchtower platform, bringing with him what appeared to be an ice box.
"Visiting my best friend." The Thrush answered as he took up the chair opposite from his partner.
"I was under the impression we weren't on speaking terms." Cardin admitted cautiously as he watched Russel set the ice box down beside him.
"Because you joined up with the Atlesian Military?" Russel didn't ask, more so he said. The Thrush met his partner's gaze and lightly laughed.
"Because you wanted to shut the rest of the world out." Cardin countered, shifting in his seat to better face his friend.
"Look, I'm not here to argue with you," Russel said as he reached down to remove the container's lid, revealing a six pack resting within. "Just thought I'd share a drink with a friend."
Cardin's eyes shot to the container and its revealed contents. It'd been quite some time since he'd last had a drink, and the temptation was great. But still, he had a job to do and couldn't allow himself to be distracted, lest another fire occur or some troublesome Grimm emerge. "I can't, I'm sorry. I'm on duty." He gestured to the platform they both sat upon and indicated to the fence below.
"Cardin," Russel spoke in an oddly serious tone. The Thrush reached down into the box and pried a pair of cans from their plastic restraints. "By some odd turn of events you, the Great Grandson of one of Vale's greatest military icons, are wearing the flag of a foreign kingdom while sitting in the presence of our ruined city," He presented one of the cans to his friend. "If there were ever an occasion to have a drink, now would be it."
Against his better judgement, Cardin accepted the drink, quietly admitting that the turn of events were indeed strange. "Where did you even get these?" The CRDL leader asked, earning a mischievous grin in response. "You know what, on second thought, I don't want to know." He said before taking one long healthy swig of the drink.
They sat there for some time, quietly sipping out of their drinks. There was a lot that needed to be said between the pair, but neither exactly knew how to approach the conversation that awaited them. It wasn't every day that two friends found themselves on different sides of an argument, but when they did it, often enough they'd stopped being friends altogether. With each passing moment, the feeling of dread piled atop their shoulders, sooner or later one of them would have to say something.
"How's your family?" Russel asked, deciding to start with small talk, whatever it took to prolong the inevitable. "They did get out, didn't they?"
"My Mom and Dad? Yeah, they got out." Cardin answered as he cracked open his second can of beer. "We've got a cottage in Patch. They'll be staying there for the foreseeable future."
"That's good," Russel muttered as he shook the contents of his drink in a stirring motion, staring down into the can as if a fly had landed on it.
"Dove's alright, I take?" Cardin awkwardly asked as he began to work on his second drink.
"Still holding out hope for Sky." Russel scratched the back of his head, not sure where to begin with recent events. Eventually, he settled on the honest answer. "I'm starting to think we might be able to find him, might take a while, but we just found out he at least made it back to Beacon."
"That's great news." The CRDL leader smiled.
"Any progress is better than no progress." Russel shrugged before downing the last of his drink. He then let the aluminum can fall to the floor before crushing it under his foot. "That armor of yours looks uncomfortable." He belched.
"It is," Cardin couldn't help but laugh as he tugged at one of the straps. "For all of Atlas' technological advancements, the one thing they just don't seem is comfortable attire. Would you believe they don't let us personalize?"
"Well, that sure as explains why that Neon chick was decked out in rainbows, probably her only chance to express herself," Russel snorted. "They even offer an explanation or is it just like a cultural thing?"
"I thinks it's supposed to promote solidarity? I don't know." He shrugged before turning to look away from the Thrush. "But you've been okay though? Got at least a roof over your head or something? If you want, I could get you some actual clothes." Cardin pointed to the week old bloodied rags Russel wore.
"I'll have you know that this here is a fashion statement," He tapped his tattered sleeveless sweater. "It just screams character."
"It screams 'help me, I cut myself shaving," Cardin laughed. "Seriously, Willa's working down in the requisitions office, I could ask her to throw something together for you."
Russel paused for a moment, as if actually considering Cardin's offer. There was a slight frown that briefly graced the Thrush's features that vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. He just shook his head and smirked, forcing a laugh. "Yeah, well, if you did get me some hand-me-downs from your Militia pals, let's be honest, it would just have an Atlesian flag on it."
"I'm sorry if my decision seemed rash." Cardin finally said. "But it's our best bet. We can't do this alone anymore."
Russel shook his head and glanced off far to the desolate city out over the horizon. "I'm not saying we take the fight to Cinder alone," He spoke quietly, enough to make Cardin strain to hear. "I'm just saying that having the Atlesian Military for roommates isn't our best course action."
"We need to stand together in unity." Cardin stated firmly.
"No, what we need is stability," The Thrush said as his gaze drifted off towards the dark cloudy. How he wished they would part and the star filled sky would shine through.
"And we could achieve that just as easily, if not greater, together." Cardin countered.
"Atlesian War Ships rained hell down on our city. Atlesian War Robots gunned down our people and their families. And now Atlesian soldiers are acting as our public defenders," Russel spat as he tore himself from the sky to face Cardin once again.
"They were commandeered," Cardin explained, hoping that Russel would see reason. "Roman Torchwick broke out of containment and took control. That's on him, those deaths are on him, the Atlesian Military isn't to blame."
"I know that, you know that, but does the whole bloody world know that?" Russel shot back, a slight undertone of anger to his words. "No, they don't." He stuck out a hand and pointed back over the Safe Zone in the direction of the recently destroyed building in which resided their food stores. "Do you not see how close we came to it last night? For goodness sake Cardin, you were there, you saw those people. If it weren't for you we'd be tearing each other's heads off."
"I'd assume that would mean you'd have more faith in us, in me at the very least," Cardin frowned. "We can handle public relations, it'll just take some time, we're all still reeling from what happened. Our enemies aren't just going to stand back and watch while we dick around, more people are going to die, more kingdoms will fall, and the only way we can prevent that is by working together, here and now."
"You really believe that don't you?" He looked to his friend, a skeptical look on his face.
"General Ironwood's made it clear. He wants to help Vale, he wants to stop Cinder and he sure as hell wants to stop The White Fang. If I'm not mistaken, those sound an awful lot like our own, so why not team up? Why not work together?"
"Pfft." Russel broke out laughing.
"What's so funny?" Cardin asked, confused at what had set off his partner's fit.
"'General Ironwood'." The Thrush snickered, raising his hands and making air quotes. "You're taking to military life quicker than I thought you would."
"How long did you think it'd take me?" Cardin arched a brow upward.
"Honest?" "I never thought you would."
"You wound me." He placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury.
"Eh, just switch on that semblance of yours and you'll brush it off."
"Anyways, my point? They wanted us divided," Cardin said as he finished his second drink, tossing the empty can to the wayside. "That's what that speech of hers was all about. They tricked Pyrrha into killing Penny, showed off the robotic corpse to the world and started to claim how untrustworthy we all are. This is exactly want they want."
"You say that as if that haven't attained it already." The Thrush muttered, eyeing his drink once more in an odd manner.
Cardin shook his head. "Because they haven't, we're still here, we're still fighting."
"Yeah, we are, we're just fighting each other," Russel said pointedly. "You grossly underestimate the victory of our enemy, Cardin."
"They haven't won yet." The Winchester declared, almost defiantly so.
"Well we sure as shit lost, so who did win?" Russel countered, ever so crass. "Look around Cardin, tell me we aren't divided, look me in the eye and tell me that nothing's changed. Go ahead and lie to me, I don't give a shit, but you can't lie to yourself. You see it, I see it, the whole damn world will be seeing it if we don't do something. Because you know what? Cinder won, we are divided and there's no stopping it now."
Cardin quietly released an exhausted breath. It did seem that no matter what they were bound to do, more obstacles would present themselves. But in spite of it all, Cardin steeled himself and cracked a hopeful smile. "We can turn it around though, Russel."
"Of course we can," Russel said before simply tossing his drink over the side of the platform. "But trying to force us to play nice isn't solving anything, it's making it worse. The more we try to fix things in our current state, the more we're just going to want to kill each other, we've lost too much."
For a moment, Cardin fell silent, his dipping downward at his feet. There wasn't much he could say to that, he couldn't deny it, what Russel said was true, the more they tried to help, the more it just started to feel like they were on a collision course. "I think we've lost a lot too." He said, earning a look from Russel that implored him to elaborate. "Me, you, Dove, Velvet, Jaune and everyone else. I think we've lost more than we want to admit."
"Our entire lives, we've grown up believing Huntsmen could save the whole damn world, but here we are, in the wake of a soul crushing defeat." Cardin sighed and shook his head. He raised a hand to his temple and lightly touched it. "What I saw out there, Russel, I think my days of sound sleep are over."
"You mean you won't be snoring anymore?" Russel began to laugh. "Hallelujah. Turns out all my days of railing against the Chantry have been for naught. There really is a God."
"Oh very funny." Cardin frowned at his partner's laughter. "I'm being serious here."
"So am I." He said, not even missing a beat. "You sound like an old tractor engine, scraping against a chalkboard with auto tune."
"Alright, I'll give you that one," He conceded. "It's just, there are things I can't unsee." He shut his eyes tightly. "I rescued from a family from their burning home and then I watched as they were gunned down by a goddamn Knight. How am I supposed to unsee that? At least now no one will ever go through that again, not like this." Cardin said, opening his eyes and looking to Russel for his answer.
"Fuck," The Thrush cursed. "I can respect that you don't want this to happen to anyone again, but how can you say that knowing our problems? There's too much bad blood and we can't handle it. This is going to blow up in our faces and soon." He shook his head. "We're Huntsmen, we're supposed to protect humanity. Don't you think it's time we started doing that?"
"We were first years, Russel. I'd hardly consider us to be Huntsmen."
"We rode atop a fuckin' Dragon," Russel pointed out into the distance towards Beacon tower. "I think it's safe to say we're more than qualified for this shit."
"Was there ever a part in your life where you didn't swear every five minutes?"
"I think when I was a baby I was restricted 'goo goo ga ga'."
"Smartass." Cardin rolled his eyes. "You think you couldn't just wind down on it? Even just a smidge?"
Russel met Cardin's gaze and glared ever so slightly. "Nobody's ever going to tell me what I can or can't say."
"Is that why you disapprove?" Cardin questioned, reclaiming a little of his bite. "You don't want anyone telling you what to do?"
"You know that's not what this is about." Russel sharply inhaled.
"No, it's about what we're willing to give for our kingdom," "I know what I can give, Russel, but how about you? What are you willing to do to for Vale? What are you willing to do for your kingdom?"
Russel sat there for a moment, pondering just how to respond to the loaded question. "Do you really know what to do for Vale?"
"Yes, I do." Cardin's eyes narrowed.
"You sure? I don't think you do," Russel said, raising a hand and pointing towards Cardin. "It should be easy right? It's black and white, stick together or don't, simple enough, huh? But it ain't simple, it isn't black and white, shits complicated and it's a goddamn rainbow of bullshit!" He shouted loudly, no doubt being heard by soldiers on other nearby watchtowers, but neither of them cared. "There's no doubt in my mind that you believe in what you're doing, Cardin, you're a good man, the best I know, but the best thing we can do for Vale and its people is to let it heal."
Cardin sat stunned, not sure what to say. He simply reached out for another can of beer and popped it open before a long sip. It felt like an hour past after that, but it couldn't have been more than just a couple minutes. It was kind of hard to tell with power these days, no clocks and no working outlets to charge your scroll. The Winchester finished his drink and tossed it to the wayside, not caring where it would land.
He straightened in his seat and opened his mouth to speak, a question on his mind. "Why do you care, Russel?" He asked, catching the Thrush slightly off guard. "Why are you fighting so hard for this?"
He shrugged indifferently. "But, more importantly, I think the apt question should be, why aren't you?" Russel said before standing from his seat. "I'll be seeing you?"
Cardin quietly sat in thought for a moment, mulling over the question and recognized its true value before nodding, a slight smile replacing the frown that bore its way onto his face. "Of course, you're my best friend."
"Have a good night, Cardin." Russel returned the smile, glad to see there were nothing negative between them.
"Yeah, you too." Cardin waved good bye, watching as Russel began the long descent down the watchtower ladder.
Alone once more, Cardin sat back and resumed his duties, thinking over the debate he and Russel had held. He shook his head in a disbelieving manner, for a while people had called him nothing more than a bully or mongering asshole, it was odd to know that someone actually held a high regard for the Winchester. Glancing back to the ice box, much to his surprise, there still remained done can. Seeing that Russel had just departed with no intent of returning, Cardin helped himself to his fourth and final drink for the night, taking a healthy swig knowing full well what he'd have to do.
With the night fully upon the Atlesian soldiers and Militia enlistees, the SDC building where they'd made their home was on high alert. You'd be a fool to ignore the boiling tensions, many a folk stalked the outer perimeter of the beachfront grounds, as if waiting for a signal to begin a siege. But truth be told, it would take only the slightest little thing to upset the strained peace they'd managed to maintain.
But deep within the makeshift Atlesian compound, not all the soldiers were manned their posts. One Willa Rosa, the leader of the ill-fated and fractured Team WILL, walked through the halls leading to her assigned rooming which she shared with six others, a cramped little closet that barely three of them could fit in. After a long day of cleaning equipment for use by other soldiers and passing out all sorts of materials from her post within the requisitions office, she'd finally reached the end of her shift and made was off to collect her few personal possessions before taking off into the night.
She reached out to her assigned quarter's door, knowing her actions will go unnoticed due to her roommates being scheduled for duty, just as she'd planned. However, once she'd opened the door, to her immense shock, she found the most unlikely of individuals sitting on a cot in wait for the Team WILL leader.
"Russel?" Willa exclaimed in utter disbelief, quickly shutting the door behind her lest any wandering soldiers in the halls accidentally peek inside and notice the Thrush. "What are you doing here?" She asked, smiling brightly.
"Came to congratulate a friend," Russel spoke in dry manner that somehow managed to put a dent in that smile of hers. "I heard you've got a gig in the requisitions office, must be nice."
"Oh, uh, thank you," Willa said awkwardly. "How'd you get in anyways? How'd no one notice you?"
"I'll have you know I can be very discrete," The young man wearing bloodied rags deadpanned.
"I-uh-don't you think it's kind of a circuitous way to go and congratulate someone?" She jotted a thumb over her shoulder.
"It kind of is, yeah." He nodded, offering nothing more.
"So…" Willa trailed off, before taking a seat opposite of Russel in the confined room. "Now what?"
"I don't know." Russel replied, a tiredness to his words.
"Oh okay, well, thanks again for-uh-dropping by," Willa rubbed one of her arms, visibly uncomfortable by the whole situation. "It's always great to see friends and all, but I think you should be going now, you don't want to get caught do you?"
"I can't go yet," He said, earning a confused and somewhat frightened look from Willa.
"Why not?" She asked quietly.
"Because of that damn pesky Atlesian Knight, the one that was found in the burning building," Russel answered, causing Willa's eyes to widen ever so slightly. "Just prior in the night, I happened to spot Lance and a female associate carrying a Knight out of this very building." He said as looked the WILL leader in the eyes and met her shocked stare. "You wouldn't happen to have access to any decommissioned Knights would you, Willa?"
"How could you say that?" Willa quickly said, hurt in her voice.
"Answer the damn question." Russel glared.
"Russel, listen to yourself," She began in an effort to reason with the Thrush, only for the CRDL boy to cut her off mid-sentence.
"I would but I'm too busy listening to you dance around the question, now answer it," Russel gritted. "Please."
Something changed in Willa's expression, that brief bright smile of hers was gone in an instant, washed away and replaced by an exhausted frown. Her eyes sagged down in sadness. There was a visible hurt, but her injuries weren't physical, she was in mourning. And it had taken all of her strength and courage to hide that fact from prying eyes. "You've got to understand Russel, everything I've done, I've done for Vale."
"I bet," Russel scoffed. "People's lives are on the line and you and your boyfriend are playing fucking revolutionaries."
"He's not my boyfriend and you know that," Willa snapped, a surge of anger in her voice.
"Then refresh my memory cause it wasn't even a week ago when you told me how disgusted you were to be boarding with the guy?" Russel said, recalling the last time he'd encountered Willa, back on the fairgrounds of the Vytal Festival where she was conducting faux tours of Beacon Academy.
"Because he's all I have left!" Willa shouted, unloading the rage she'd swallowed and held deep within her gut. "Iliad, Lambert, my parents, my siblings, they're all gone! Killed by the White Fang and the Atlesian war machine!"
"Still doesn't mean you had to help him." Russel countered, withholding any trace sympathy.
"You think it was an easy decision?"
"No."
"Then don't you dare judge me." She spat as she stuck out a finger prodded the Thrush in the chest thanks to their confined space.
"You are aware of what he's doing aren't you?" Russel questioned as he smacked her hand away. "How many lives will be lost?"
"This is revenge, this is for every one we've lost!" Willa shouted on the verge of tears.
"And whose blood will be bathing Vale's streets this time? Atlesian Knights? I don't think so, they don't bleed. No it'll to be us, it'll be Vale bleeding out again. And that'll be on you." He said, not once raising his voice.
Willa held herself in an attempt to recompose, to fight back the swelling tears. But it was too late, a stream began to fall down her cheeks and her vision blurred. "Atlas needs to pay." She concluded.
"Cinder needs to pay, The White Fang needs to pay, but you know who doesn't have to? Us. Vale. We've been through enough," Russel muttered quietly. "Now, I'm going to ask you a question and you're going to give me an answer, and for everyone's sake it better be the truth, because at this rate the whole Safe Zone will be up in flames come morning."
Willa raised a hand to dry her eyes. Once her vision cleared she looked to Russel, unsure of his intent. "What do you want to know?" She asked.
The Thrush leaned forward. "Where is Lance?"
On the outskirts of the Safe Zone within the nearby forest leading out of Vale resided a warehouse with the Mayflower family crest broadly stamped onto its side and the word 'Imports' painted on the front. Within the building, amongst a variable number of crates, standing under a dim battery powered lamp and around a wooden table, was none other than Dolm Mayflower and Lance Grimsby.
"It's now or never." Lance declared as he reached out for the table and claiming a grenade belt from amongst what appeared to be blueprints of the SDC logistics building. "This time tomorrow morning, The Atlesians will be driven from our homes and then we can truly get to work."
"What you are doing is a great and noble thing, Mr. Grimsby," The soul surviving member of Vale's council said as he passed on another blade to the former Beacon student, a light blue crystal blade with and elaborately mechanical yet seemingly organic hilt. "You'll go down in history as the man who cleansed Vale from its Atlesian oppressors."
"Relax Grandfather, it's just a job and I'm the man for it," Lance flashed a smile as he took the blade and held it out, as if testing its weight. "This is truly a magnificent sword." Lance said as he swung at the air.
"It's a sword worthy of being held by a champion," Dolm smiled brightly. "If only your Mother could see you now, it would warm her heart."
"You'd best be off, Ms. Goodwitch and Burns will be running frantically without you to steer the boat," Lance said as he sheathed the blade.
"That harpy and the policeman could die in the chaos for all I care, but I concede that they have their uses," Dolm said before grabbing his cane and heading for a nearby door. "Good luck out there."
"There's no such thing as luck, Grandfather," Lance smirked to himself as the door closed behind Dolm with an audible thud. The Grimsby boy then brought himself to review the blueprints provided by his informant from within the Atlesian base once again, double checking the entry points where he could lead an angry through rather than leave anything to chance.
But before Lance could set out, the door in which Dolm had exited opened once more. "More words of wisdom, Grandfather?"
"You're being a tool." Came the voice, distinctly separate from that of Dolm's but one that Lance instantly recognized.
"Russel." Lance quickly spun around and drew his Champion's blade, holding it outwards with one hand.
Walking into the warehouse was none other than the Thrush, both hands firmly placed in his pockets and scowling angrily at the Grimsby boy standing under the light. "Evening." He said, not batting an eye at the blade Lance held.
"I must admit, you've arrived at an inopportune time," Lance said, shooting deathly glare in the Thrush's direction.
"I'm sure you can spare five minutes," Russel said indifferently. "It's been a while since we've last chatted, now seems like a good time to catch up."
"You want to talk? I'm holding you at sword point and you want to talk?" Lance questioned, sounding slightly confused.
"Pretty much, yeah," Russel nodded. "It's been you, hasn't it?"
"You wouldn't be here if you didn't believe it already." Lance said, puffing his chest and glaring back at the Thrush.
"I need to hear you say it," Russel's eyes narrowed. "I need to know why you've been doing this."
"Sounds rather haughty of you to make demands of me." Lance countered coolly, his outstretched arm appearing to never tire.
"You're about to lead hundreds of people to their deaths, the least you can do is tell me why." He countered, drawing his hands from his pockets, revealing himself to be unarmed.
Lance laughed at the sight, it now appeared he had the upper hand in the situation. With a dark glimmer in his eye, he shook his head and spat. "You'd never understand, how could you? You're a racist cunt, Russel. But all you need to know is that I'm saving Vale tonight."
"And what about the people?" The Thrush countered. There was a thunderous clap from outside, followed by a flash of lighting that pierced into the dimly lit warehouse through overhead windows. Another moment and the darkened sky above gave way to rain.
"Some sacrifices need to be made," Lance said as hundreds or droplets crashed against the metal roof, and echoing crackle emitting into the room. "It's a harsh reality, but one we're not unfamiliar with."
"But you won't be the one making the sacrifice, they will."
"Someone needs to be the new shining principle for Huntsmen everywhere, for every Valean that cowers in the dark they will look to me and find hope." Lance smiled at the thought.
"How altruistic of you." Russel said in a sarcastic manner as he rolled his eyes.
"Someone needs to step up, and it seems I'm the only one willing to do so."
"So, all that Faunus equality talk, was that even for real?" Russel questioned, recalling the first time he'd met Lance, how the WILL boy had accosted him for his bullying of Velvet.
"I do believe everyone should be treated equally."
"And yet you're not big on consent, you fuckin' rapist." Russel shot the Grimsby boy a cold look, the memory of his vengeful quest to mess with Lance briefly flashing in his mind's eye and how it had led him to interrupt his drugging of Gwen at the fairgrounds.
"Oh, trust me, she'd have been saying 'yes' by the end of the night," Lance smiled darkly.
"You had Willa cut the fence, you lured a Creep into the Safe Zone."
"No one was in danger, it was a Creep after all, barely threatening, but effective enough to be used to rally support from the disillusioned."
"And then you burnt down the food depot, planting the Knight to kick off your fucked up purge."
"I didn't account for Cardin, that traitors the worst of you all." He shook his head as thunder boomed outside. "Scumbag like him, the great grandson of a hero and all he's done with his life is be nothing more than a thug and a turncoat. I can't wait to meet him on the battlefield so I can strike his ass down myself."
"Well, this has been enlightening." Russel muttered, followed by sharp thunderous clap akin to that of a gunshot. "At least now I know where you stand."
"You know, I'm glad you're here, Russel," Lance said, taking a step forward and grinning cockily. "I've been meaning to pay you back for all those times you fucked with me." He said before reeling back his sword, preparing to strike at the Thrush. "Die, knowing that I'll lead Vale to glory, even if I have to drag it kicking and screaming to get there." He smiled once more.
For a moment, everything seemed to freeze, the Thrush's brain banging violently against his skull as his aura flooded it. He thought back to that day in the forest of Oakwood, right after his Father had killed the Ursa for the first time, how he'd decided that he'd go to combat school to be a Huntsman. But then his mind brought him back to the funeral, then Saint Jack's where he buried his Father, the driving force of his of his early years was gone, he didn't have to be a Huntsman anymore. And yet, he chose to attend Beacon.
The life of a Huntsman, that's what Russel chose, to spend his days doing everything in his power to protect humanity. And now he stood, face to face with a man who threatened the safety and lives of the hurt, the weary and the lost, to fuel his own ego and deluded aspirations. It wasn't even a question about what whether or not Russel hate Lance, the Grimsby boy was everything he despised, a man who would rob one's ability to choose and censor should not conform to his own beliefs.
Russel thought back to the last time he'd spoken with Ozpin, how the Headmaster had told him that a Huntsman could never have baggage, there just wasn't any room for it. In order to protect the people they fought for, they to let go of their own personal issues. So, The Thrush wasn't standing there in the warehouse because he hated Lance, he was there for the thousands of Valeans and the others stranded in Vale.
It hadn't even been an hour since he had parted Cardin's company, but his friend's words clung to him. It was a simple question: What was he willing to do for his kingdom? What was Russel willing to do for its people?
"We'll always be our Father's sons," Mercury's voice echoed within Russel's mind. "Their little killers."
Russel's already depleted aura supply began to recede, his brain slowing and the world around him beginning to speed up. Then, from out of his right bracer, Russel produced his pocket knife.
Lance swung forward aiming to slice Russel apart diagonally. With the distance so little between them, Lance smiled at his assured victory. There was no conceivable way for Russel to escape his deathblow, the sweeping motion ensured that. There was a twinkle in the Grimsby boys eye, a vision of the future, where he sat behind the desk where Ozpin had once sat, recognized across the land as the foremost authority of the Huntsmen in Vale.
Distracted by his fantasy and sure of his victory, Lance hadn't even realize Russel had closed the distance between them entirely. And then reality sank in, just as Russel's blade pierced his chest. Lance gasped as his strike finished its arc, completely missing Russel as he and his intended target stood face to face.
Just as soon as the blade had cut into Lance, Russel quickly removed it before ramming the knife back into the man once more. He could feel Lance attempting to breakaway, trying to impale Russel with his sword in a desperate swing. But the Thrush elbowed the attack aside. Russel threw a fist forward and clocked his adversary in the jaw stunning slightly and opening him for the onslaught.
It was a flurry of stabs, with blood flying outward and splashing against Russel's already stained clothing. Lance's cries fell on deaf, uninterested ears. A stab to the gut, a slash across the chest and fending off Lance's desperate attempts to force Russel away, the Thrush reached out with his free hand and grabbed the man bay the collar for leverage. There was metallic clang noise, the Grimsby boy's hand had gone limp, his sword fallen to the wayside.
He then stared forward, watching as the light dimmed in Lance's eyes and how they began to roll into the back of his head. Releasing his grasp, he let the body fall and then finally, he released the breath he held and heaved. He'd been responsible for deaths, but this was the first time he'd intentionally taken.
Straightening his posture, he examined his knife, noting the blood that now stained the wooden handle, how it filled the letters of the name carved into it. Grabbing his rag of a shirt, he wiped it clean. He stared down at Lance and thought to himself, that he'd found the answer to that question. Sparing a glance down to the handle, he ran a thumb over the name, his mother's name. Since day one of his miserable existence, Russel's been taking lives. Now, however, he'd stopped fighting it, stopped running from who he was.
For his kingdom. For its people. Russel accepted a truth.
He was a killer.
The adrenaline subsided and Russel held a weary face. He trudged for the door, almost tripping over Lance's discarded sword. He regarded the weapon for a moment, debating to take it for his own but he ultimately decided against it. It didn't fit his style anyways. He then exited the warehouse and found himself bathed by the rain. He stood there for, letting Lance's blood wash away, and only then did he realize that he wasn't alone.
By the nearby tree line, leaning with his back against a tree trunk was none other than Danny a gun in his hand. And on the ground beside the DNCE leader's feet was Dolm, a single gunshot wound in the center of his head.
Danny met Russel's gaze a nodded at his bloodied hand. "It's a messy world we live in," He said, kicking off from the trunk and setting off for the Safe Zone. "This is the least we can do."
Russel watched as Danny vanished into the trees. He looked back to Dolm, who lay dead and thought of the implications. But no matter, the Thrush concluded as he began trek back home to his shitty cot that awaited him. He didn't regret a damn thing.
Sleep came easy to Russel that night. And now he found himself his peace. However, the moment was gone, while lost in a soup of dreams, an invading presence made itself known. The sounds of nearby jet engines boomed and Russel awoke with a sense of déjà vu.
Russel stood from his cot, wincing as a light soreness surged through his body. Which was to be expected, he did sleep on boxes after all. But he pushed ahead, with an anxious look on his face. It appeared the Atlesian fleet had arrived earlier than expected.
Turning to a nearby stack of boxes, he claimed the change of clothes Dove had brought him from his excursion into the city. A green hoodie and brown cargo pants, not much in the way of clothing, but it was what he had. After a few amendments thanks to his pocket knife, and Russel was ready to go.
Standing in his now sleeveless hoodie, Russel spared one final look to the disturbed pair of boxes where he'd hidden Pyrrha's headdress. He didn't know how Jaune had done it, but he knew the Arc had taken it, and one day he'd confront him over it, but that day wasn't today. He walked over to the Employee break room within the hardware store, he found a snoring Dove, oblivious to the ruckus outside.
Russel kicked at Dove's slumbering form, instantly awaking the youngest CRDL member. A startled Dove thrashed about on his brand new mattress, before looking up through sleepy eyes and found Russel unceremoniously gesturing to the jet noises outside. Heading the call, Dove sat up ready to go, having slept in his armor. Without a word, they departed their dwelling and made the long walk through the Melting Pot.
Up in the sky, much to his surprise, Russel did not find the Atlesian fleet, but instead, he found that of Vacuo's. The flag of three swords flapped against the wind as the ships began to make their descent. All throughout the Melting Pot, Russel could hear the joyful cries of Vacuans stranded during the fall. The Shade students poured out of their laundry mat, running into the streets and dancing. Their kingdom had come for them, it had actually come for them.
Among the gathered students, Russel's gaze shot towards that of Nebula, who smiled brightly while shouting cheers amongst her fellow students. She paused in her revelry briefly, feeling the pair of eyes watching and turned to see the Thrush. She tore herself away from her team and fellow student body and ran towards him, overcome with the excitement and prospect of rescue she leapt at him and snared Russel into a hug.
"We're going home!" Nebula shouted at the top of her lungs. "We're going home!"
"Congrats," Russel said, reciprocating the hug.
"So, this is it." She said as they pulled apart.
"So it seems," He shrugged once more.
"I just want to say, thanks again, for all you've done for us and for me, it means a lot."
"Anytime." He nodded.
"Hey, if you ever find yourself in Vacuo, look me up," She smirked. "I'll buy you a drink."
"See you around Nebula." Russel waved goodbye before both he and Dove continued on their way.
"See you later, Russel." The NDGO leader said before turning to rejoin her fellow students.
"I've come for my people," The Speaker of Chambers, Stagnant Vermilion announced as he took his first steps off the ramp of the Vacuan Heavy Cruiser and onto the sovereign soil of Vale. His only company a squad of Vacuan Huntsmen and his aide Gabriella.
Greeting the Speaker was General Ironwood and what remained of the Valean council, and one tag along in the form of Cardin Winchester, who wore not the armor of Atlesian soldiers, but that of the silver and gold metal plate that bore his family's crest.
"You don't think we were holding them against their will, don't you Vermillion?" General Ironwood questioned playfully.
"Ah, yes, Ironwood," Vermillion sighed. "I see you still have your sense of humor. I take it you and your Atlesians are running the show now?"
Ironwood spared a glance between Goodwitch and Cardin before turning to face the Speaker fully. "I'm afraid not, after a long discussion, Atlas will not occupying Vale."
"Is that so?" Vermillion arched a brow upward, an ambitious twinkle in his eye.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Vale is far from defenseless." Goodwitch said, taking a step forward.
"And though Atlas will have no Military presence in country, but rest assured, we will be providing Vale whatever it is that they need until they get back on their feet." Ironwood smiled. "You'd best run off now, go and collect your people."
"It was nice seeing you again too, Ironwood," Vermillion spat before turning to leave with his entourage and meet the nearby amassing Vacuans.
"I hope this is for the best," Ironwood said aloud, just as soon as Vermillion was out of earshot.
"It is," Cardin spoke up, smiling proudly at the Atlesian General.
"I'm not sure what brought upon your change of heart, Cardin, but I want to wish you and the rest of Vale good luck in the coming months."
"Not gonna stick around, General? And here I was starting to get used to having you around," Heyman Burns laughed.
"You've made it quite clear, Atlesian occupation isn't the answer, and I have two seats in the Atlesian Council to reclaim. I've got my own house to put back in order."
"Good luck James," Goodwitch waved.
"You too Glynda," The General smiled before he began to walk in the direction of the SDC building.
"Mr. Winchester, a word?" Goodwitch said, catching Cardin's ear.
"Yes ma'am?" The Winchester turned to face the senior Huntress.
"I'm changing the rules," She said as Heyman departed. "We need Huntsmen and I want to deputize every Beacon student, you in?" She looked to Cardin in search of his answer.
"Of course ma'am," Cardin nodded.
"Then, as your first mission as a full-fledged Huntsmen, I ask that you spread the word to your fellow Militiamen."
"It'll be music to their ears, Professor." Cardin smirked before running off in the same direction as the General.
Goodwitch lingered for a moment, looking up at the sky, watching as the sun began to part the dark and dreary clouds. The magnificent blue was shining through, things were finally looking up. "I don't know what you said to Mr. Winchester, but it worked." She said as Russel and Dove appeared from behind.
"Cardin's a good man, he knows what's up, he knows what's down. He just needed a little perspective to get the ball rolling."
"You mean you didn't even tell him he was a pawn?" Goodwitch questioned. "That's a risky gambit, Mr. Thrush."
"Telling him that would have changed the conversation entirely, you'd have diminishing returns from that." He shrugged. "So, we held up our end of the bargain, now yours?"
"Right," Goodwith nodded as Danny and Marie-Anne appeared. "At this moment forward, all Beacon students regardless of their year are deputized as full time Huntsmen. Congratulations, you've graduated early."
"Alright, neat," Dove nodded. "Now, what about Sky?"
"Yes, well, you see I have a mission for you."
"Whoa, what's this? I held up our end of the bargain, no flipping the script now," Russel spoke up, raising his voice slightly.
"I'm not, for you see, your first mission as Huntsmen is to accompany Danny and Marie-Anne here in their search to find Sky." She said, quickly defusing the upset. "Before the Fall, Ozpin had enlisted Sky to look into a certain matter in the town of Venezier. Your mission, head to Venezier, link up with the local Kevin, locate Sky then come home."
"'The Local Kevin'?" Russel raised a brow at the wording.
"You've just stepped into a bigger world, good luck gentlemen." Goodwitch said before turning towards the amassed Vacuans, no doubt to lend a hand.
"…So…where's Venezier?" Dove asked aloud.
"Beach front territory, and couple hundred miles past Oakwood." Marie-Anne announced. "We're looking at a three day journey by foot, if we run."
"Thankfully, we already have transportation," Danny smirked.
The DNCE duo then led the confused CRDL boys deep into to the local forest. They reached a wide and open plain, coming across what appeared to be an abandoned farm. There, within the stables, they found their mode of transport, four brown horses. Without a word, both Marie-Anne and Danny mounted their steeds and led them out into the plain flat land.
"Hey, Russel," Dove called out to his teammate as he pulled himself onto the horses' saddle. "You grew up on a farm, you ever ride a horse before?"
"…Dove," Russel muttered, finding some offense to the suggestion. "Just because I grew up on a farm doesn't mean I know how to ride a horse." He said before cracking a smile. "But yeah, I do." He laughed before mounting his steed and taking the reins. "Giddy Up."
Throughout the entire arc, there was this theme of asking yourself what you were willing to do for your people, what were you willing to give? For Cardin and many others, it was joining the Atlesian military. For Nebula, it was biting her pride and turning for help from a Valean. For Glynda it was her allowing her students to fight for their kingdom. And, as seen in this chapter, for his people, Russel gave in, he accepted the worst thing he'd ever been called and embraced it.
Bringing things back to Pyrrha's Headdress. I'm not the only one who finds it odd Jaune gets his new armor forged from her belongings right? That's canon and so we all know what eventually happens to the circlet.
This chapter is also, sort of the culmination of Russel's journey so far.
Lance really was Russel's antithesis, he was everything our protagonist opposed. Throughout The Darkling Thrush, Russel's had a specific code about how he approached things. He's actually really big on freedom of choice and freedom of speech. And those are two things Lance's actions directly opposed, which has put them always on this collision course.
Usually, I'd post an interlude about the day after I finish an arc, but unfortunately I'll be heading out of town tomorrow. And won't be back until Tuesday. So, that interlude will be a couple days late.
Also, spoilers about the next arc? It's a western.
Next Arc: Tears of Venezier!