Chapter 20, Happy Trails (Part 1)
Even with the fully intact highway system to cut across the largest stretches of Vale, it was still going to take almost two hours to maneuver their way into the agricultural district and over to Happy Trails Farm. While the highways were clear, well maintained, and completely free of rubble, they weren't laid out in the most efficient manner. Well, not for the sort of driving that Cerulean and Hakke were doing, at least. The highways were set up more so to allow quick and easy access to the three main gates in the walls to the north, east, and south. They were designed to allow maximum flow of traffic in or out of the city.
It didn't take long for Hakke to figure out why that would be the case. The city boasted some incredible bunkered shelters scattered in every district, much like the fallout shelters of pre-collapse cities back on Earth. Here though, the shelters weren't designed to defend against nuclear weapons. They were there to defend against the Grimm.
Apparently there were some serious tax advantages to setting up a private business to also act as a Grimm Shelter in case the worst came to pass. Hell, in some cases the private shelters were better than the public ones, with certain private dwelling spaces being held in reserve for those with the deepest pockets. An easy way to make a Lien.
Not usually the sort of detail that Hakke would have cared to learn about, but now that he had an official PI license, Callie had been constantly filling him in with the more esoteric pieces of life in the Kingdom of Vale. Hell, it was why he was finally reading that book he stole from a Syndicate guard back at that base. The Man with Two Souls, it was called. It was pretty good too, if a bit worrying.
After all, it was basically Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Oh, the names and places had been altered of course, and there seemed to be more action scenes than he remembered in the original, 1,000 or so year old British version, but it was basically the same thing. It was like a strange, alternate telling; filtered through the lens of a foreign culture. The whole thing was longer than the Earth version, but he suspected that if the action was taken out, it would be roughly the same length.
He finished it in less than thirty minutes.
"Well. What was definitely a book." He started and threw it over his shoulder. From the driver's seat Cerulean gave him a look. The Warlock shriveled slightly. "Yeah, that was pretty disrespectful."
Hakke got out of the passenger seat and went to grab the book, kicking himself mentally. Even schlocky fiction deserved more respect than that. Had another Warlock seen him treat a book like that, violence would have probably been the only recourse.
"Why aren't you buckled in?" the Detective asked.
"What's that?" Hakke asked, setting the book down gently in one of the leftover cabinets built into the van's spacious back. If push came to shove, he figured he could have fit all of Fireteam Oboe in here.
"You really should buckle up. You have any idea how dangerous that is? More people die from crashing without a seatbelt than get attacked by the Grimm."
He made a face. "That sounds made up."
"It's completely true, actually."
"Oh, whatever. That's a bogus statistic." Hakke snorted, sitting back down. "It's like saying everyone who drinks water dies. Yeah, it's technically true, but it doesn't tell you anything important." He did buckle himself in, however.
She nodded approvingly at his decision. "I hear it's worse if you breathe it."
"Got mugged with water once. This guy popped out of a dark alleyway and tried to shank me with an icicle."
"So now we've gone from bogus statistics to bogus stories."
"Swear it by the Nine. Cross my heart and hope to die, the whole schtick."
She exhaled in amusement. They exchanged small talk as their off ramp appeared, trailing out of the city and down into the stretches of farmland that made up the agricultural district. It was an efficient place, the Warlock had to admit, with neat rows of grain crops gently billowing in the breeze. Short, stubby towers dotted the landscape, terraced greenhouses with artificial lighting illuminating yet more greenery. The further out into the district they got, the less of the vertical farms they saw, and more of the land became dominated with domesticated farm animals. Whatever type of crops they were growing here, he would love to bring back to Earth. Even passing them at the speed they were, he could tell they had a yield far greater than the reedy barley and rice strains that had survived the Collapse.
If he was able to get his hands on some of those seeds, he was all but confident hunger in the Last City would become a thing of the past.
Of course, that didn't matter if he couldn't destroy the Crown. Or find a way back. In that order. Truth be told, he hadn't put much thought into that particular goal. It was important, and he knew the Last City needed every Guardian that they could get, but he knew that wasn't on the table just yet. If there was a way here, there would be a way back, that he was confident in.
But he had made a promise to that Hunter.
And he would be damned if he broke another one.
"Hey, we're almost there." Cerulean said. "So here's what I'm thinking, this isn't going to be a bust, too much Lien has been moved here in too little time for that to make sense. But this may not end up being related to what we're looking for, specifically. It may still give us something to hurt the Syndicate with. If we can find evidence of anything illegal, I know someone on the force that should still be trustworthy."
"You sure they are? I'm just saying that to err on the side of caution." He asked.
She nodded. "Lets just say he has reason to hate the Syndicate even more than you or me."
"I'll trust your instincts on this one. At the very least you should have better luck, pretty sure I just sop up any extra negative luck like a sponge anyways."
"Alright, when we get in, let me do the talking. If they ask you anything, tell them the truth. You're a PI and we're working a case."
The Warlock looked down at himself. "Guessing this has to do with," he gestured to his coatless form, "this."
She nodded once more. "Yeah, exactly. That coat of yours isn't anything too stand out, but it is memorable enough to possibly cause issues. If this is more than a front, we're probably going to meet some people who have been told about our little crusade attempt. Anything to make it harder for them to put two and two together, the better."
Made sense. He wasn't all that fond of losing the extra armor that the Cormorant Blade duster provided, but he could do without. He had in the past, and in far worse situations than this. The only other signifier he had on was his personal Bond, which he refused to take off. Although he had wrapped it with a strip of tan cloth at the Detective's request. It wasn't much, but it did help obscure who he was more than if he barged in, Midnight Coup drawn and duster flapping in the wind.
He looked over to his native companion. Their earlier talk about disguising themselves had been eye opening in ways he had flat out not thought about at all. He was flat out unobservant when it came to individuals he had realized, a side effect of his Guardian 'training' he supposed. He was more in tune with ID tags and voices as a means of identifying who people were than visual cues, and even then, it was mostly style, armor, and other equipment that he paid attention to. Some of those tricks worked here on Remnant, but others... didn't.
Cerulean had done several very basic things to prepare for this trip that he hadn't even considered, things that made a very large difference. Normally, her hair had been tied back in a mass that Callie had informed him was called a bun. She had since untied it, letting it drape around her shoulders instead. Between that and the battered brown jacket she had found somewhere, it was remarkable how different she looked. Not unrecognizable. But enough to throw off someone who didn't know who she was, albeit temporarily.
Hell, the woman was a Faunus, a detail he had initially noticed back when he had helped her escape the Syndicate, and had largely dismissed as irrelevant afterwards. Stupid. Very stupid of him. He had been told about the differences between Faunus and Human, and had been given the cliff note version of their histories. While that history wasn't stained in as much blood as some of the histories he knew about and had acted on, there was still a considerable amount of blood there. Enough that there were legitimate tensions, and even a terrorist organization dedicated to elevating the Faunus over their cousin-species.
There were different varieties of Faunus. That alone should have been a massive signpost to him that things were not a one-to-one to how things were back home. He didn't even know what sort of Faunus Cerulean was. Her ears were definitely not baseline Human, larger and fanning out to a point, and a quick closer inspection indicated that there coarse, neatly cropped hairs growing on them, the same color as the rest of her hair. What sort of Faunus was she? Was it rude to ask? It felt too similar to his willing ignorance of the reality Semblances had created. He would need to learn more.
It was irrelevant right now though. He'd figure this out later.
"If we can find an open window, Callie can slip inside and start digging through whatever computers they have."
"Can she stay out of sight?"
"Oh please, these are far from the scariest people I've hid and hacked from." Callie smugly informed the Detective.
"Glad you could join us." The Detective said.
"Oh, I am always here and listening in, I just butt in when I have something to say."
Hakke leaned over. "She means when she wants to stroke her ego."
"That, and I thought it was best to have Hakke do most of the talking." She floated right next to Cerulean and loudly whispered. "He needs the practice."
"Hey!"
"Gods, you two are weird."
They passed under a gate that proudly declared that they were entering the Happy Trails Farm property. The fence that segregated out the land from its neighbors was an older fashioned wood and wire mesh getup. One part of Hakke was surprised by this. They had passed one or two smaller farmsteads that had their animals penned in with hard light barriers. With the amount of cash being poured in, they should have been able to afford it.
A small herd of healthy looking cows watched them from the field, lazily chewing their cud. Further ahead were several neat buildings and a barn, all made of concrete and wood. Like everything else here, it had been artfully done, the concrete hidden behind a layer of decorative stonework, the edges lined with skillfully worked wood. Surprisingly, there were very few people milling about, and only a handful of vehicles present, one being a larger truck with a sizable trailer.
The van pulled off to an open patch of grass on the side of the road. From what Hakke suspected to be the main building, a young man emerged and began to approach the vehicle.
"You two good for this?"
Hakke cracked his neck. "Oh yeah. Got your gun?"
"Oh yeah."
Both doors opened, and the Guardian and the Detective emerged and began making their way towards the main farmhouse. The younger man jogged lightly to meet them halfway.
"Oh, hey, we weren't expecting anyone else to come by today. Are you, ah, bringing another shipment?" The man asked, a strained friendliness emanating off of him.
Hakke gave him a solid look over, determined to actually make the effort to evaluate this person. He was young, a touch younger than Hakke appeared, with short cropped hair that looked almost green. He had a collared, long sleeve shirt that bore the Happy Trails Farm logo over a breast pocket. Inside said breast pocket was a Syndicate Blue handkerchief. But above all he looked off somehow. Nervous came to mind.
No, that wasn't it. It was a different look.
Thankfully, it was his Faunus partner that answered him.
"Oh, no. We aren't bringing you any more work for the day." She said, a light cheerfulness in her voice. "We were actually looking to talk to the manager or boss of this lovely farm you've got here, if that would be all right."
A moment of confusion flashed across the man's face. "So, wait, you're… you're not a farm associate?"
"That we are not." She said with a laugh. "At least, not directly. Oh, where are my manners? My name is Crim, and this guy here is Hoss."
Hakke gave a small smile and two fingered salute, as Cerulean continued. "Like I said, we'll be in and out before you know it. Hell, you won't even have to stay late today."
"Okay. You just needed to see the boss? She's not in right now, so you're...you're gonna have to leave." Yep. The kid was scared all right, fighting valiantly to keep the tremble out of his voice. It was about as telling as anything could be that this was a criminal hideout.
"No can do, I'm afraid. Tell you what, uh. I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name."
"Basil."
"Right. Tell you what Basil, go ahead and let the boss or the manager on hand that some reps from Tricon Investing are here to take a look around."
"Oh. Uh, I don't think that's a good idea."
"Well, we got a job to do, we can't just leave."
"You should. Please."
Yeah, something was wrong here. And if he was picking up on it, then Cerulean had to be as well. He just wished that the records they had grabbed had told them more. The equipment that had been flowing in painted a disjointed and confusing picture, to say the least. The kid here wasn't helping things in that department either.
And he did feel comfortable referring to Basil as 'the kid'. They may have been similar ages, but the Warlock had the feeling that he had the extra life experience; more than enough to justify the moniker. Enough to justify butting in.
"The sooner you let us do our thing, the sooner we leave." Hakke stated. While the Detective was exuding a bubble charm, he deadpanned. It was something he knew how to do extraordinarily well. Nothing made Hunters leave a lab faster than going over the minutiae of a project in the most boring way possible.
Basil looked back to the barn, staring for a touch longer than he probably needed to before he turned back to the duo. "Fine. Follow me."
He began walking down the gravel road to the main building again. Hakke and Cerulean exchanged glances before following. He had been right. She had noticed. Not that should have been a surprise.
He sent a mental ping to Callie as he got closer, the Ghost materializing a little ways out from where they were, closer to the foundation of the building. It was late afternoon still, and a warm day to boot. She would find a way in, one that wasn't guarded. Callie hadn't been one of Ikora Rey's Hidden, experts all in espionage, but she knew a trick or two for being unnoticed.
It was the only way for a Ghost to survive the long centuries it took to find their Guardian.
Basil stopped before entering the building. "Are you two cops? Huntsman?"
"Private Investigators." Cerulean answered.
He nodded and entered the building. Inside, it was air conditioned to a surprisingly low temperature, lower than needed in Hakke's opinion. The interior too almost didn't match the outside; the walls were blank, with no embellishment whatsoever. It looked like a half constructed lobby, with only an end table with a wilting fern. Before various doors and hallways led deeper into the building.
"So." Hakke said. "What kind of farming do you all do here?"
"Why do you care?" Basil asked.
"Small talk. Mostly." Hakke replied, mentally chastising himself. He was probably supposed to play the 'bad' cop role for this. Not the awkward cop.
"Uh. Mostly dairy. We have a deal with a local cheese maker. We also raise pigs in the back for, uh, sausage." The Syndicate man said. He hadn't slown down, instead he rapidly led them through door after door in a pattern that was beginning to make Hakke nervous. He only had one of the blocky Grendel-made pistols actually on his person, alongside his baton. Midnight Coup was currently held in digital storage inside of Callie.
The Grendel gun wasn't the best, but it had served him well enough against the Syndicate before.
Finally, he opened a door leading into a nondescript office space, full of desks and computer terminals. Basil walked over to a computer terminal and began typing furiously at the translucent screen. Touchscreen, by the look of it. The Warlock did not approve. Touchscreen was fine and dandy in certain situations, but a keyboard with actual buttons was far superior. Better tactile response.
"Plug your Scroll in." Basil said, gesturing to an outlet similar to the one Hakke had seen at the CCTS. "Grab whatever files you need. All of Tricon's records are on this terminal, then leave."
Cerulean nodded appreciatively, and plugged her Scroll in. Moments later, she had streams of data funneling their way in.
This was way too easy.
"Well, that's half of what we came here for." Cerulean said. "I'll still need to talk to whoever is in charge. The records will help of course, but we will need to double check the physical stuff being stored here. Pretty sure someone has been slipping in contraband into the shipments."
Basil stared at them, eyes rapidly shifting between each of them in turn. "You… you don't know, do you? You're not with them."
"With who?"
"By the Brothers you don't know." The man had reached some form of conclusion. His next words came out flat, monotone. "You have to get out of here. Get the hell away."
The Warlock and Detective exchanged glances once more. Unspoken, they reached a consensus.
"We're with the Syndicate." Hakke lied through his teeth, gesturing to Basil's handkerchief.
Basil's response was not what Hakke had been expecting, and it made him realize what seemed so off about the kid. He was scared, and doing a damn good job of hiding it.
"No you're not. Besides. That wouldn't save you."
Make that terrified.
Sound began to come from Cerulean, the beginnings of a question if he had to make a guess, when a door to the back of the room opened. In strode a younger woman in much the same getup as Basil, her white-blonde hair tied up in a short ponytail. It didn't escape Hakke's notice that their Syndicate escort had jumped the moment the door opened, and had only relaxed again when he saw who was on the other side.
"Basil! There you are, you know we can't - Oh. Hello."
"They're not with them, Hildy. They're PIs working for Tricon."
"Tricon? That's a shell company."
Things were rapidly going in a direction that they had not expected, or talked about at all. Something strange was happening on this farm, something that had the Syndicate grunts here spooked badly. Worse yet, it seemed this Hildy character knew that the company they were claiming to work for wasn't actually a real company. Hakke shifted his weight, ready to start throwing palm strikes. Beside him, Cerulean's hand inched at a glacial pace towards her gun.
"Oh, who gives a damn, they're sneaking on in, that confirms they aren't with those freaks. Please tell me you have a vehicle that can get us the hell out of here."
"Hildy!" Her companion hissed.
"They're our best hope to leave with our lives!" She hissed back. "When else is a chance to escape going to land in our laps like this?"
"They're not Syndicate!"
"I don't care if they're with the White Fang, they can get us out of here!"
Hakke raised a finger. "Quick question, what the hell is going on here?"
Hildy pointed right back. "I'll make a deal. You get us out, and I'll tell you everything I know. Whatever you want. About-about the Syndicate, about here, whatever you want. Just get us out."
It hit him quickly. They were both terrified. Whatever was happening here wasn't just strange, it was bad. Capital B bad. Cerulean began talking to the two Syndicate grunts, no doubt putting some of her police training to good use, but he needed to do something else. He reached out with the Light, probing at the world around him, feeling out along the Barrier and out into the Farm. It would take a while to verify what he was fearing, but it would be worth it to confirm.
In gentle billows, his Light feathered out across the halls and buildings of the Happy Trails Farm. He couldn't actually use this to see anything or anyone, or even to map out an area. This technique had a very specific purpose.
His Light brushed against it and recoiled like he had been burned. He hadn't even realized it, but his eyes had been closed. He only realized that because they suddenly jolted open. It had been an involuntary reaction. A primal one.
Whatever was happening here wasn't just strange. Wasn't just bad.
It was Dark.
Shorter, establishing chapter this week. Happy Trails Farm is going to be a multi-parter, and a whole lot more intense than the last one as well. It's proving to be equal parts fun and infuriating to write about, mainly in getting everything to work the way I want. It's a place where some of the horror elements of the story get a focus. Some neat-o plot and some particularly brutal fights are going to go down at this ironically named local. It's gonna be a blast.
- RangoTango
By Odin's Beard, it's time for Review Replies!
ue1 - Ye.
Schmidget - The Hive tend to operate in a very particular manner when sending in their fleets or War Moons isn't an option. They act like an infestation of black mold; they fester unseen and undetected until they reach a critical mass and the whole damn building has to be condemned.
CheezusChrist15 - Yeah, that's my bad. Looking back over the whole story, I think I mentioned the fact that Cerulean is a Faunus a total of two times, and in like, a sentence at most. Which in a story this long is blink and you'll miss it. Regardless, this is a prime example of what's in my head not getting translated as clearly as it needed to be.
The Baz - SCP isn't the biggest inspiration for this particular tale, but goddamn if it isn't at least an influence. Love me some clinical eldritch horror.
Master-ofmanga - All good guesses! I haven't revealed all the clues as to what the hell the Barrier is, but I will say it is unique to Remnant and Remnant alone. Also I am stealing that first idea. I hadn't thought of that, but it just works so damn well with the Barrier and its purpose.
Doshosb - Glad you like it!
TheWeepingTurtle - Dang, thanks man!
eragon13579 - Glad you liked it! Here's hoping the standard holds from here on out.
Guest - Most everyone he's interacted with for more than a minute so far thinks he's a bit off. As for dancing over beaten enemies... that's a canon factoid, which means I'll have to deal with that at some point, just for the hell of it.
