Chapter 11, Home Invasion
"Gotta give them credit. They move fast." Hakke said, peeking out the corner of the window at the small kill team filing out of the black van on the street. It had taken what he assumed to be Syndicate thugs some time to properly situate themselves. Thankfully, judging by the way they were moving, the team didn't seem to be in full combat mode. They were milling around in a loose formation, guns held loosely and quietly talking amongst themselves. There were three men, armed with the same style of bullpup rifle that Slick had possessed; each of them wearing a thick vest with Syndicate Blue highlights. Well armed and with body armor to boot.
A major step up from the grunts they had been mowing down back at the base.
"They wouldn't be getting out if they didn't know we were here. How do they know we're here, in the flat?" Cerulean asked. She was looking over Hakke's shoulder as the kill team gathered up, and prepared to enter the building. She backed up, and looked back into the flat. "The lights. I bet they'd left them off, and even if they didn't, they probably think it's worth checking out. We should go."
Hakke checked his pistol, confirming there was a round in the chamber. "Yeah, you're probably right. In a similar vein, we could ambush them here, get them before they enter the building."
"We can't get in a firefight, are you insane?"
"Why not? It's as good as - right. Civvies." Hakke stopped himself. Hakke wasn't in the burnt out ruins of an apartment complex, he was in an active apartment complex that was completely full of innocent civilians, quietly sleeping the night away. One wrong move, one misplaced shot from either them or the Syndicate men outside, and some unlucky person would have a bullet burst through their wall.
"I would suggest taking the maintenance staircase, its down the hall and opposite of the main throughways. We'd be much less likely to encounter them there." Callie added.
Cerulean nodded in agreement, and waved him on, as Callie vanished into the Backpack. The two allies filtered out of the flat, and after a quick visual sweep, into the hallway. Cerulean took an extra moment to close and lock the flat, both as a deterrent and to try make it seem like they had never been there. Their opponents, having apparently decided to get moving, weren't wasting any time. These guys were far more professional in how they were handling this situation. Hakke could already hear them trotting up the staircase towards Cerulean's flat. They moved down the hall and around a corner, heading towards the maintenance stair.
"Wait! I'm picking up Scrolls in the Maintenance Stair, they have men coming up that way." Callie suddenly interjected.
"Oh, come on!" Hakke hissed, keeping his voice at a whisper.
The hallway was mostly empty, being as it was on the edge of the building. Windows lined the left side, and the only door on the right seemed to be a small janitorial closet. Beyond that and a small reading alcove, there was nothing of note to the Guardian. No cover, no options.
Cerulean moved forward and began to force open the janitor's closet in an attempt to get a place to hide. As she worked on the physical lock, Callie appeared and began assisting. Hakke took a mental note of this. There was both a physical and electronic lock on the door, it seemed Remnant was fond of combining both forms of security together when they could. Between the two of them, with Hakke keeping lookout, they cracked open the door and entered. As the janitor's door closed, he could hear the maintenance door open.
An extra second and they would have been detected, and a shootout would have begun.
The closet was dark, and well over crowded. Metal shelves lined its edges, stuffed to the brim with bottles and cleaning supplies. In the back a haphazard pile of brooms, buckets, and mops balanced precariously. Between what the janitor had managed to fit into the space, and the two new occupants, there was barely any room to maneuver. As such, and being the most bullet resistant of the two, Hakke was closest to the door.
They waited in silence, as heavy footsteps worked their way down the hall. Right as they passed parallel to the janitor's closet, they stopped, the buzzing of a Scroll hinting as to why.
There was the snap of a Scroll opening, followed by a voice.
"Stay sharp, they're here. Or someone with a key is." The voice said. Thankfully, it didn't sound like anyone Hakke had already run into. He wouldn't have to worry about a run in with Murex, or any other Huntsmen-type opponent at the moment. Probably.
"How do you know that?" The man behind the door asked.
"Fridge was open. There's some takeout on the counter, still cold, and the fridge hasn't started its cooling cycle. Literally just missed 'em. Minute out, tops. They've gotta be in the building still, probably on this floor."
A grunt, and the Scroll snapped shut.
Hakke turned his head slightly, just far enough to see both Callie and Cerulean staring daggers at the back of his head. He mouthed 'whoops' before giving the bottles of cleaning solvents a look over. Something here may prove useful as a distraction. At least, that was the thought. He reached over and plucked a half gallon bottle of some sort of disinfectant off the wire rack.
A mental ping to Callie let him know that the hall outside was empty outside of the one man.
The floor creaked as the man outside approached the door. The doorknob rattled as he grabbed it. Hakke uncorked the bottle. Cerulean shifted behind him as she prepared her pistol, the only weapon she had. The Syndicate thug coughed to himself, and opened the door.
Hakke squeezed the bottle hard, a stream of some form of harsh, industrial cleaner rocketed out and directly into the man's open eyes. The man backed up, letting out a distressed gasping sound as Hakke tossed the now empty bottle aside, followed by a quick jab to the throat to silence him. A few more strikes, and the man was neutralized. Cerulean exited, pistol drawn and pointing down the hallway to the bend that led to her flat, as Hakke heaved the thug into the closet.
That done, he turned to the Detective, and was stopped by the unmistakable sound of a shotgun racking a shell. He spun around to see a man standing at the entrance to the maintenance hallway, with some sort of massive gun leveled directly at them. Definitely a shotgun, although he hadn't seen one that had the slide on the side before.
Worse though, attached right on the top of his Syndicate colored armored vest, was a VPD badge. They were masquerading as police.
"Well, alright." The man said, then fired.
On one hand, Hakke was pleased to learn that the gun the man had wasn't a shotgun. On the other hand, he was displeased to learn it was some sort of wacky bolas launcher. As the twirling wire flung across the hall and pinned his arms to his sides, he was even less pleased to learn that it doubled as a taser.
He wanted to let out a scream as an ungodly amount of voltage began to course through his body, but the electricity forced his muscles to lock up, and he toppled over. Vaguely, he was aware of Cerulean firing several shots at the Taser Man, forcing him to retreat. If there was ever a time to start shooting, he supposed the moment your far tankier ally went down was as good a time as any. Looked like things were going to get violent after all.
Through the electricity, which he swore he could feel arcing between his teeth and could see arcing aggressively around his body, Hakke forced himself to concentrate on the Light, flooding his body with the energy to counteract the voltage. It wasn't easy, but it allowed him to get a better look at what he was dealing with. The bolas was made of some form of thick metal wire, and had a small yellow glowing apparatus that seemed to be the source of the electricity.
He focused the light into his right arm, sliding it out from the wire just enough to pivot over and grab the device. Overhead, bullets were flying thick through the air, chunks of drywall and ceiling raining down around them. Cerulean had taken cover in the closet once more. The other members of the kill team had arrived and were shooting around the corner. He focused the Light into his hand. It was now or never.
Dust was one of the things that Hakke knew the least about, from a property standpoint. Its versatility had already proven itself throughout his stay in Vale, and the more he looked, the more regularly he found the substance being used. Very little seemed to make sense about it; the amount of energy that it output was magnitudes more than any other naturally occurring material. It was on the top of his research list. Unfortunately for Hakke, he had just conducted his very first, successful Dust based experiment.
What happens when Light is introduced to active Dust?
It acts as an unstable supercharger.
This time Hakke did scream as a literal thunderclap erupted around him, complete with a blinding flash of light and a sonic boom. The world vanished into a horrifying mix of so-bright-its-white yellow, tinnitus ringing, and excruciating pain.
Soon however, his sight returned, the results of Callie focusing on recovering that over all other systems in his body. Hearing wasn't as essential right now, and while it did feel like he had been dragged through a field of lemon juice and sewing needles, he knew that would pass. The next few minutes wouldn't be fun, but this wasn't the hardest he had been hit in his life. He wasn't dead or dying after all.
He forced himself up. The hallway had gone dark, the wall next to him was blackened and charred, and he bet he looked much the same. Steam wafted off of his arms and body, even through the pouring water that was drenching him. It seemed that the sprinklers seemed to have gone off, and a fire alarm was now sounding throughout the building. Everyone involved in the fight seemed to be in various stages of recovery, the Syndicate men included.
Guess there was a benefit to turning yourself into a flashbang.
He dragged Cerulean out of the closet, which had thankfully shielded her from the worst of the bang, and charged down the hall. Just in time to see that Taser Man had also been shielded by the walls of the maintenance stairway as well. The man had his gun leveled, but paused before firing, a stupefied look on his face.
The Warlock let go of Cerulean, she was smart, she'd figure it out, and sprinted as fast as he could down the hallway. Taser Man got over his shock and opened fire, not with another bolas round, but with bullets. Hakke's scant Light shield shattered, and he felt the sledgehammer tear of rounds slashing through his side before he tackled Taser at the waist, sending both men flying down the entire flight of stairs to crash into the concrete wall on the landing below.
Hakke stumbled off of Taser, throwing punches at the stunned man before grabbing his gun. He got up and reared it back like a battering ram, slamming it home on the man's face. Then he did it again for good measure.
His new gun was some sort of machine gun, by the looks of it, one that had an aftermarket attachment for the bolas. Side, chainsaw grip for racking a new bolas round, and a thumb button on the pistol grip to fire. Box mag for the normal rounds. Simple enough.
He racked a new bolas round and leaped into a hover. Cerulean at this point had recovered enough to start down the stairs, leaping down the last half of the stairs to get out of the way. The rest of the kill team had fully entered the hallway. With no cover, the first man wasn't able to dodge the bolas that wrapped around his legs, dropping him in more ways than one.
He dropped, letting the first volley of fire pass overhead, and made his way to the first floor. The alarms were going off, the doors of different flats were opening as residents peeked out to see what was going on. Up above he could hear screaming and yelling. Not the screams of the people in mortal danger, but screams of panic and alarm; people trying to sort out why a brief gunfight had just taken place.
He ran after the Detective, the residents of the apartment getting out of his way as he charged past them. He couldn't blame them, it wasn't every day that a soaking wet, heavily burned and bleeding man carrying a massive machine gun ran down their halls. And he was bleeding, Taser's rounds had punched clean through him. Thankfully, he hadn't hit anything vital to movement or existence, so Hakke was comfortable gritting his teeth and waiting for the Light to heal the wound.
They weren't waiting around anymore at least, the duo charging out the front door of the building and directly at the parked van that had dropped the Syndicate kill team off. Cerulean threw open the passenger side door, leveling the gun at a younger woman at the wheel. The woman threw her hands up, and hastily exited the vehicle.
As Cerulean secured the van, Hakke surveyed the apartment. He didn't know criminals too well, but he had plenty of experience fighting the Fallen. In his head the pirate scavengers seemed to be the closest match as far as fighting went, so he was pulling on his experience there. He ignored the front door they had ran out of, trotting over to peer down the alleyway that they had entered the building from initially. Fallen liked to flank. Fallen liked to ambush. The Fallen would do everything in their power to try to position themselves in the most advantageous spot to rain line shot down on their enemies. The Syndicate felt similar.
His foresight paid off as the side door burst open and the kill team stormed out. Hakke leveled the machine gun and opened fire, a volley of subsonic rounds blanketing the alleyway, sparking off of dumpsters and taking chunks off the walls. The gun was horrifically inaccurate, which meant he had about as good a chance of hitting his targets as a Hive did to discover the wonders of peace, but it was fantastic as a deterrent.
One woman seemed to realize this, peeking over a dumpster to aim a rifle at him. The Warlock stopped firing for a moment to line up and launch a bolas at her, the wire wrapping around and pinning her forearm to her neck. She vanished behind the dumpster once more, flickering yellow light emanating from where she fell.
He backed up, firing short bursts as he went, before finally jumping into the back of the van. The van's tires screeched as it took off, and Hakke closed the back doors. Up ahead, he saw Callie hovering beside Cerulean, his Ghost chattering animatedly at the Detective. So that's how she knew to go. He took a gander around the interior of the van.
Usually, he cursed Lady Luck, as it seemed she reveled in making his day worse than it had any right to be. One only had to look at his experiences here on Remnant to see that he statistically had worse luck than most. He had even mathematically proven it to his fireteam back at the Tower, charting all the times he had been shot by snipers or hit by fallen debris instead of his teammates.
Not today. A built in cabinet and workbench took up the majority of the van's interior, with seating on the opposite wall. Said cabinet was chock to the brim with gun slots and ballistic vests. And ammo. Dust ammo. And more guns.
He felt himself tearing up at the beautiful sight. Every rifle here, and there were two of the Theon bullpups, was in pristine condition, alongside some sort of similarly high quality pistols to accompany them. He grabbed an extra box mag for the machine gun, and exchanged it for the half empty one currently in the gun. On the workbench were what appeared to be a reloading station and some basic maintenance tools, everything a roaming armory would need.
Finally, things were looking up.
"There are a staggering amount of bugs all over this vehicle." Callie interrupted the dopamine rush he was experiencing as she floated over. "Thankfully, I can take them offline without any trouble. Ah, it feels good to be able to brute force a problem again. Oh, wow."
Hakke gestured to the wall happily. "Guns. Ammo. Finally."
It was a straight, open shot from the cargo area of the van to the driver's section. Cerulean leaned over and yelled at them, "We're being tailed! Another black van."
As if to highlight her words, two rounds hit and dented the back doors of the van. Hakke frowned and threw open the back doors to see who was trying to kill them now. Just as she said, a black van, identical to the one they had hijacked was slowly gaining on them. In the distance he could hear sirens, all heading in the direction of the apartment building. A man was leaning out the passenger window with a pistol aimed at Hakke, the source of the two shots. The Warlock grabbed a handle on the ceiling to brace himself as a round splashed against his Light shield.
"Alright, fine! Have it your way!" Hakke snarled. He hooked the machine gun's stock under his arm and squeezed the trigger. Round after round roared out and smashed through the sheet metal of the engine block, sparks rolling off the windshield in a thick sheet. The driver begins to swerve violently, exposing a wheel that quickly popped under Hakke's fire. Finally, the engine block erupted with a dull thud, flames shooting out the sides in gouts. The van veered off into a parked car on the side of the road, and stopped in a crash.
Hakke closed the doors, and put the machine gun away in one of the open gun slots, and sat down in the passenger seat with a groan.
"Got that tail off us. Disabled their vehicle, they won't be back." he said.
"Good." the Detective said, giving him a glance. "Are… are you okay? I mean, it looked like you got hit by lightning back there. And you sort of look… crispy."
Hakke angled the back mirror so he could see himself. She wasn't kidding. Dark soot covered everything he had, skin, clothes, everything. Plenty of it had been burned as well, he could see and smell the charred portions of clothes and hair. Lines of angular arc scars crossed his face, although those were already beginning to fade.
"Been better. Definitely been worse. I'll be fine." Hakke nodded to himself. "So now what? Running around the city and hijacking cars doesn't strike me as the most sustainable option."
"Right. Right. Uh, I have a friend who works at a hotel, he owes me a big favor. He should find us a place to lay low."
"Sure you can trust this guy?"
"What, you have a better idea?" Cerulean snapped, before shaking her head clear. "Sorry, I didn't-"
Hakke put up a hand. "You're good. No need to apologise. And, that does sound like the best of our not too great options. Tell you what, you drive around for a while until Callie lets us know all the bugs are gone, and I'll go in back and try to clean up a bit." He swiped some of the smoky grime off his shoulder armor. "I'm a bit of a mess right now. Sounds good?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan to me."
Hakke got up and returned to the back and began digging through the cabinets for a rag. Callie could clean off all the grime of course, but he figured it would be better to not overplay Callie's innumerous functions just yet. His new partner seemed to be hanging on to lucidity by a thread at the moment. He figured having the majority of your life uprooted, both professionally and domestically, and then ping ponging from one life or death scenario to another would do that to a person.
He truly hoped things would slow down from here. He wouldn't come any closer to finding the Crown if he spent his entire time in Vale running around and shooting people at random. Or just shooting the armed messengers that were being sent after him. He needed time to find the source, the top dog so to speak. Whoever had the Crown would be in the upper echelons.
The Crown Thieves had said they had a wealthy backer. Odds were, if they found the backer, they'd find the Crown.
Hopefully before things got even crazier.
The last mound of paperwork signed, dated, and finalized, Glynda Goodwitch finally allowed herself to stretch. What had initially been a fairly simple task involving one promising huntress-in-training had morphed into a significantly more involved ritual. One that everyone involved had been putting off, she might add. She took a sip from her paper cup, the coffee inside having gone cold hours ago. At least she wasn't expected to sit in the meeting that Headmaster Ozpin was having with the Police Chief.
There was an agreement between the various police departments in the city and with Beacon Academy. Seeing as the Academy's student body was entirely composed of soon-to-be huntsmen and huntresses from all over Remnant, it was seen as an inevitability that some of them would get into trouble. As such, every few years Ozpin would discuss how to handle any unruly students that may find their way into the city. Discussions that were always long and convoluted.
Perfect for Ozpin, she thought with a smirk. The man loved his complicated plans. Not that she saw that as a downside, of course. His plans had saved her life and the lives of many students on more than one occasion.
Still, since she was there, she had offered to help with the paper side of things. These documents would have inevitably found their way to her desk at Beacon anyways, so there was no reason not to get them done on the front end. Was it how she would have preferred to spend several late hours? Of course not. But her preference rarely dictated what she needed to do.
She gathered up the documents, and flicked her riding crop at the now empty paper cup, sending it floating gracefully into a nearby trash can. She exited the small office that they had graciously offered her and walked over to the officer she had been working with for the evening. Said officer was currently talking to one of his coworkers, and judging by the numerous empty paper cups and cans of energy drink, was trying every trick in the book to stay awake.
"I'm telling ya Burns, agreeing to help with this was the dumbest idea I've had in a while. I mean, it's 3 AM, my next shift begins at 8 AM. That's today."
"Break room's got couches." his coworker suggested, the man was wearing sunglasses inside, in the middle of the night for some reason.
Glynda shook her head, and placed the papers on the man's desk, and with a few quick words was on her way. She was looking forward to going home; it had been quite a long day. She had spent the first half of the day putting together the last minute touches for the new school year, the second half cycling between several different Dust shops in the same area, waiting to see if her lead that one of them was Torchwick's next target was correct. Then, she spent even more time than she had originally thought dealing with the aftermath of Ruby Rose's vigilante actions, and the Headmaster's seeming last second idea to enroll her in his Academy.
And he thought to do this two days before the new school year began.
Despite what she did for a living, Glynda was not fond of doing paperwork, and certainly did not appreciate her boss's seeming insistence on adding yet more forms to her workload. At least, she usually did. He was handling the extra headache on this particular decision.
She headed for the Air Pad on the roof, where Ozpin's Bullhead was currently parked. More than likely she would be spending the next few nights at the Academy as she finalized the remaining details for the start of the year.
Specifically, she would be overseeing the repair of the camera network along the edge of the Initiation grounds.
She shook her head. There was no need to dwell further on that mystery. She had seen what little those cameras had captured; discussed its meaning with both the Staff and those aware of their enemy. It was a problem that they would solve in time.
She looked to the moon, studied its shattered form thoughtlessly. Right now she simply wanted to get to a bed. This had been a long day. The next promised to be just as long.
A few minutes passed before she heard the automatic doors leading to the Air Pad open, revealing the bespectacled form of her Headmaster. As usual, both of his hands were occupied. One with his cane, and one with his favorite mug, which was full of steaming liquid.
He smiled as he approached. "Unfortunately, it's just coffee. The local police don't seem to share my fondness for hot cocoa."
"Ozpin," she began, "are you sure about this? Fifteen is much younger than even the last student you fast tracked into the Academy."
He looked over his spectacles, raising one eyebrow. "You don't think she's capable?"
"I am not questioning her skill. Qrow, despite his many, many faults, is at the very least a good teacher. I am more worried about how being pushed two years ahead of her peers -"
Ozpin held his mug up slightly, raising one finger as he did so. "I understand your concerns, Glynda. Truly, I do. But I am confident in Miss Rose's ability to rise to the occasion. She shows promise of a variety I have not seen in many years. Not to mention a two year jump is not nearly as expansive as it seems in the long run. The curriculum isn't that much more intense."
Glynda sighed, giving her colleague a look of exasperation. The Headmaster in turn gave a small smile.
"And besides, I did say that I would handle all the details. That was not a promise I made idly."
With that, he walked over to the side of the Bullhead, his cane clacking along as he went. He began tapping in the unlock code, and for the first time in many years, entered the code in wrong. He made a small sound of frustration and tried again.
When he made the same mistake again, she spoke up. "It's still bothering you, isn't it?"
Ozpin paused, before entering in the code yet again. "Yes. Very much so." With a beep, the side door of the Bullhead opened.
She dared not elaborate, not here at least. Magic was something she did not understand, could not understand. And yet a little over a week ago he had nearly collapsed in his office as what he described as a 'wave' of strange magic washed over everything. His attempts to describe it had done little to alleviate her concern. Not when the words he chose were 'eldritch', 'hungry', or strangely enough, 'sharp'. Three days later they had flown out to the location of the Anomaly, and had been greeted by something out of a nightmare.
Sharp, twisted metal had been strung about an otherwise pristine location; pieces of the familiar warped into something that should have been on a tortured artist's canvas, not buried into living trees or digging gouges in the dirt. And at its epicenter had been a sheet of ground that had been superheated to the point that it more resembled glass than anything else.
A fight had taken place there, one that had ended in bloodshed. Bullet holes, both from Dust rounds and something else had been embedded everywhere, and old blood coated a section where someone had been torn to pieces by the Grimm. Of the body however, there was no trace. She had been unsettled by what she saw there, and Ozpin had been even more so. Once they had confirmed that they were truly alone, he had attempted to cast a spell, something she had never seen him do. He claimed that it allowed him to glean a sense of the purpose and source of a cast spell.
What he had done afterwards had been the worst part.
He had demanded they leave immediately.
A few days later, and the cameras at the edge of the Initiation ground had gone dark, one by one in a line. The data that these cameras had gathered had been corrupted beyond repair, except for one image that they had managed to retrieve. It had been heavily damaged, but it had been clear enough to show something. A single male figure in a long gray coat with armored shoulders and a rounded helmet, one with an aggressive V shaped visor looking their way. A glowing spot hovered over his shoulder, just enough visible underneath the glare to show that it was something, and not an artifact.
It had not taken long to determine that this man had come from the Anomaly.
And that he had been heading for Vale.
"I'm not going to lie to you, there's a very good chance that our current, issue, is related to her. And if it is, I can say that this is a completely new strategy, one that I have never seen her attempt before. For once, I have no point of reference as to what to expect." He sighed. "There's a very good chance I am going to need you to look into this, here in Vale."
"It would take me away from my duties as Combat Instructor. Besides, wouldn't Qrow be a better choice for something like this?"
"He says he has found a lead on Amber's attackers, and that is not something I am prepared to take him away from. Not yet at least."
"Are you planning on taking over my class then?"
"I believe I may have a trick or two I can teach the students, at least until you find something. Now, let's get going." Ozpin climbed into the Bullhead.
"Do you think you could drop me off at the Air Pad near my apartment? Even with the construction happening down the street, I think sleeping in my own bed would be the best right now." Glynda said as she climbed in after him. "At least for tonight, after that I plan to take up my accommodations at Beacon again, at least until the construction is complete."
"Absolutely. Give me a minute, and we will be off."
As the Headmaster headed for the cockpit, Glynda opened her Scroll and began looking through her daily itinerary. She then began to compile a summary of what still needed to be done on Campus, and her class plan for the first few weeks in a data packet for Ozpin to look over. Knowing the immortal, he was not going to stick to her plan, but she decided to send it over anyways. At least then they would be able to have a discussion about how the students were doing in relation to her expectations.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the same automatic doors opening as an officer approached the Bullhead. She glanced up, seeing that it was the officer that had been wearing the sunglasses indoors heading their way. He still had them on as well.
"Oh, cool. You haven't left yet." The man said as he came up to the Bullhead's door. "Ms. Goodwitch, sorry we weren't ah, able to tell you about this earlier, but we got a call a little while ago about a car of yours that got… stolen."
Glynda blinked. "What."
The officer licked his lips nervously. "Yeah, an anonymous tip called it in out at Ocelot River Sanctuary. Now you don't have to worry, it's not damaged or anything. It still got stolen, you know, so that's definitely not good of course. But, you know, it's the little things that matter. And stuff. I'm going to go."
"Is it still there?" She asked. She could feel a vein start to pulse in her forehead.
"Yes." He dragged out the 's'. "Yes it is. We were going to bring it in to the lot here, for you to pick up, so if you wanted to wait, that would be fine."
"Do you have any idea who stole it?"
"I uh… Not sure I can share that sort of info with you. What with the whole, it being your car that got snagged and all."
"I believe it should be fine, officer. Professor Goodwitch is a consummate professional. The worst thing that could happen is she delivers a car thief to one of your cells." Ozpin chimed in, appearing behind Glynda, mug in tow.
"Right, yeah, that makes sense. All we have is this traffic picture from the area, and the only reason that we have this is because of how unusual it is." The officer pulled out a Scroll. "Sending it your way now."
"Thank you, officer. If it's all right, I will stop by tomorrow to pick the car up. I don't believe I need it right…" She stared at the image on her Scroll, before showing it to Ozpin.
"What are the odds?" he asked under his breath.
The picture was not high quality, but it did show enough. There were two figures running across the street, one was female, in dark pants and a white button up shirt with black suspenders, and a shoulder length ponytail. The other figure was male, in a long gray coat, light gleaming off his armored shoulders.
"Thank you. Officer." Glynda said as a farewell. The officer nodded, and began making his way back to the doors leading into the precinct.
"Well, as fate would have it, you have your first real lead." Ozpin said.
She looked over to the Headmaster.
"It appears I have some work to do."
That's right, canon characters are finally getting added into the mix! And it only took eleven chapters for that to happen. The main, important characters (for the most part,) both canon and homebrew, have been introduced for this arc. Now it's just a matter of slamming the different pieces together while making explosion sounds and praying things work out. Tune in next time to see if I'm capable of going more than one chapter without writing an action scene! The answer? Probably not!
- RangoTango
Hear ye, hear ye, it's time for the weekly Review Reply.
Collab Productions - Glint's the final evolution of the grade school bully: loud, insecure, and not the brightest. Still, what he did there is going to have some serious ramifications in the future. As for Cerulean, you have to give her a little credit, the 'worst case' scenario that most Remnant Natives could see reasonably happening would be if Great War 2: Electric Boogaloo happened. A Hive War Moon popping up would be a little… out of left field from their perspective. And seeing as this fic is slowly morphing into some sort of Sci-fi/fantasy-Noir thing, I am legally obligated to include corrupt cops.
Titan Main - I despise those damn things. The GoS harpies somehow manage to always be behind me when I do that raid.
The Baz - Excellent. I expect no less.
DarkMegatronXX47 - Exactly right. I figure if the Vex, who can simulate reality down to the atomic level at least, are incapable of predicting Guardians, then a Semblance would have the same limitations. Cerulean is having a rough go if it. Now that the first hints of the Hive Plot are showing up, that's… not going to change for any main character anytime soon.
Guest - Well, damn. Thanks for the kind words, and I'm glad you're liking it. I've always been a fan of those little details, it helps ground and (more importantly) humanize the biological killing machine that a Guardian is.
