Chapter 29 - The Lucky Roll


The van came to a stop with a light squeak from the brakes. They had parked in an empty spot in the very full parking lot of the Lucky Roll casino, off to the side of the casino proper. In the last rays of the afternoon sun, the building was shockingly warm looking, red sandstone bricks taking a soft, autumn tinge. Even the darkened windows seemed to glow cheerfully in the afternoon sun. Even with the building looming overhead, it was a shockingly welcoming sight.

Of course, the welcoming aura of the place was offset slightly by the knowledge of what was happening inside. And Hakke didn't mean the gambling, although he wasn't the biggest fan of that either. He left that to other Guardians when he had had the opportunity, specifically the hunters. Somewhere in the sublevels of the monolith in front of them lay the answer to the biggest missing persons case that Vale had ever had. Probably.

He really hoped so at least.

He fidgeted with his gauntlets, his finger idling on the trigger to his Bolas launcher V2. He really had no doubt that he would end up needing the thing, seeing as every single outing had ended in violence. They were stocked up about as thoroughly as they could be given the situation, with Callie carrying most of their weapons and ammo in transmat. Still, even with all their prep, escorting 30 odd civilians out of what was most likely a hostile environment would be… difficult. He shoved the thoughts aside.

"Well, time to get to work. Callie, the map please." Hakke requested. Callie tittered as she appeared in a swirl of light, taking a moment before a small hologram appeared between the Warlock and the Detective. Callie flew to the top of the cab, casting the hologram from her central eye the entire time.

"Right, so the plan is fairly simple. First we talk to the contact that Ringtail got for us with the bus people, then we make our way inside and wait for the fire alarm. Then we make our way to the Grimm Shelter, which is the most likely place that they'll be storing all the missing people." The holographic map shifted, zooming in to one of the outer buildings in the parking lot and cut to the interior of a parking garage with several long buses parked inside. From there, it zoomed into the bowels of the casino itself, showing the floorplan from a side staff entrance to the publicized entry to the Grimm shelter.

The fact that the Lucky Roll had a Grimm shelter in the first place said magnitudes of the trust placed in the casino by the ruling council of Vale. In the off chance that the Grimm ever broke into the city proper, the government had built a number of shelters for the regular citizens to take refuge in. Alongside that, they also gave out licenses to build shelters to those people or businesses that met their standard. It was considered a high honor and a mark of both security and quality to be allowed to build one of these vaults. Hakke wondered who they paid off or killed to get a shelter built in Hive Cult City.

That said, he could see the reason they'd want one. If the worst happened and the walls fell, then thousands of people would turn to the casino for safety. And for a cult that needed living people to make their weird drugs, he doubted there would be a better situation to find themselves in.

He shook his head and refocused on the plan. Ringtail hadn't told them who team two was, only their main objective. She wanted the Boost supply to be eliminated, and while that was a major objective for them, getting the people out was more important. Besides, escort would be the more difficult of the jobs, seeing as a fusion grenade only took a second or so to pull the needed Light through the Barrier, and he could almost guarantee that it would destroy wherever they needed to be destroyed. It was called a fusion grenade for a reason after all. Emphasis on the nuclear kind.

All they had to do it seemed was hire a bus, break into one of the most well guarded facilities in Vale, and drag somewhere to the tune of 35 people out of said hole to the bus. Nevermind whatever security measures were in place or the condition of said 35 odd people were.

Hakke would be on point, which made sense as he was a Guardian, making him arguably one of the most effective shock troops in existence. Callie would do her usual thing, hacking everything that could be hacked, and Cerulean would take the rear, defending and aiding in actually getting people out of the shelter. From experience Hakke knew that he was no good at corralling people where they needed to go in anything approaching a timely manner, and Cerulean had actual riot training.

Callie wrapped up the remainder of her pep talk, mostly a recap to refresh her two bipedal associates, and let the map vanish with a twinkle and a shell-spin. "Any questions?"

Cerulean and Hakke exchanged glances. "Guns transmatted? Ammo stockpiled? Baton's on mag-lock?" he asked.

"Scrolls synchronized?" Cerulean added.

"Yup, yup, and yup! I'm in their systems, so I'll let you know when the plan is a go. We're all set for a full on assault!"

"Hopefully it won't come to that." Cerulean said slowly.

"Oh let's be honest with ourselves," Hakke said as he opened the door and left the van, "it absolutely will."

Behind him in the van's cab, Callie vanished in a shower of light, while Cerulean got out and began walking alongside the Guardian. Ahead of them and past the mostly full parking lot was the casino's built in bus depot, a squat red stone building connected to the main by a glass skywalk on the second or third floor. It looked like its only purpose was to make sure passengers could spend money while waiting or when they departed immediately, judging by the lights from a kiosk filtering through the open bus-size doors. Parked alongside the curb were two buses; long and sleek double decked vehicles with blue tinted holographic signs in their fronts and sides which blared stops and advertisements.

A short and purposeful walk later and they were standing in front of the twin sliding doors of the first bus. Cerulean took the initiative and rapped her knuckles sharply on the glass, startling the driver. He jumped, and quickly stashed his Scroll inside a pant's pocket before he opened the door.

"Yea?" The man asked. He was a gangly thing, his red and black uniform hanging limply off his frame, a single billy goat soul patch clinging to his chin. "Look, the next departure's at seven, and it's against policy for you to wait on board, so don't even ask."

"That's fine." Cerulean began, leaning against the open door. "We're the folks with a party of around 30 or so people who are going to be using this bus a little while later. Annie should have called ahead and set everything up. I need you to stay here until our party gets here."

"Huh, yea. Ok. The Annie party, I can dig. Boss man's not gonna be thrilled about this though, we don't have any other buses right now to take the seven run."

"Is that going to be a problem? I don't think it should be, given how Annie's taken care of the financial bit."

"Oh, no no no. That ain't what I mean. I'll stay and delay as long as I can, but once we hit seven PM, I'm expected to scram. We're super short staffed right now. Just a little heads up."

They exchanged a few more words and a few more coded messages, all based on the prearranged bits that Ringtail had set up beforehand. Thankfully, it seemed to be working ok, as long as no sudden but inevitable backstabs happened in the future. All they could really do now was hope that she had been telling the truth about the Syndicate's little civil war. Not like they could back down now, not with the lead they were working with now.

The fact that this casino was a known hotspot for the Syndicate helped too. Worst case, Callie, Cerulean and he could cause some incredible damage here.

The detective let the bus driver close his doors. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Born ready. Callie?"

Her voice crackled in his ear piece and out of Cerulean's Scroll. "Hitting their security now. Camera loop recorded and installed… now."

They began walking past the kiosk and up a staircase towards the glass walkway to the casino. Callie's looped footage would show a highlight reel of a staggering amount of nothing happening on their security system, letting them move unseen by any electronic eye. At the end of the skywalk and through a set of frosted glass doors the casino opened up properly. The floors were carpeted with a short, decorative design, there for both function and aesthetics, with neat wood paneling lining the walls. The ceiling had fancy looking chandeliers dangling from short chains on the high ceiling casting the palace in warm light.

Ahead of them, past one or two guests meandering in this section of hallway was a brass sign embossed with directions to various points in the building. A convention center, the game floor, the hotel, food, and of course, at the bottom, the shelter.

"Well, this seems shockingly easy."

"Once we're there it'll get harder. They need the shelter to be easy to find in case of an actual emergency. Normally there'd be hard light signs giving people the route on the ceilings."

Hakke hummed in understanding and followed Cerulean. Their path took them along a straightish path to a hallway with a set of railings along one side. It overlooked the massive and spacious game floor. He paused for a moment, taking it in. Not like he'd ever actually stepped foot in a casino before.

The floor itself was inset into the ground to help the space seem even more grand. Various game machines formed short corridors that directed people from one money-sink to another. Clustered in one quadrant were a series of tables manned by staff with patrons crowned around. He thought he could see cards and chips scattered on several of those tables. Fancy bars lined one wall, bottles glistening behind them, and a freestanding elevator stood in the front by the entrance. It was made of glass as well, rising up to connect to the freestanding balconies that advertised their various floors. Embedded at the top of one of the walls were a series of tinted glass windows, all some sort of admin office if he had to guess. Right below it a massive, old fashioned clock silently kept the time, its arms moving smoothly along its face.

A series of four massive chandeliers made of brass and crystal hung from the ceiling, each illuminating a full quarter of the floor below. If his eyes weren't deceiving him, they had raw Dust crystals embedded in the glass crystal, giving them a dazzling number of colors. Finally, right in the center of the floor was a massive gold fountain, with a set of elaborate cog work dice at their heart, water spraying from several metal plants embedded around them.

Pretty tacky overall.

"Ever been here?" Cerulean asked. She had stopped a few steps ahead of him.

" soaking in the sights. Never been the biggest fan of gambling with money."

"Been here a few times myself, before I made detective. Usually because some rich ass called us in because some unlucky faunus dared exist near them."

"Sounds fun." Hakke said sarcastically.

"Oh, it was great. The look on their faces when a faunus cop showed up was always something at least."

They both were silent after that. Hakke leaned against the railing, and decided to do a little people watching. Well, that's what he could tell anyone if they asked, seeing as entering a meditative trance would be a little weirder. Hell, not even his fellow Guardians understood why Warlocks were so fond of meditating, or at least had decided there were better things to do.

His eyes were open, but he wasn't really focusing on what they were seeing. He stilled his breathing, forcing his heart rate to slow to a steady beat, his mind emptying of the normal random thoughts. Nothing technical, nothing about Dust or how it's been woven into the local lighting, ventilation, or security systems, nothing about what patterns would be most useful in a dice game, or trying to sort out why someone would gamble in the first place. He drained these thoughts out one by one and instead focused on his Light. It was a small fiery core at the center of his being, small traces radiating out and filling his body and extremities like smoke in a container. From there he let his consciousness spread out to his surroundings where it bumped into the now familiar wall of the Barrier.

Normally he could almost see his surroundings like this, as his light flowed out and coated every rock and stone, every leaf and tree around him, letting him get imprints of what they were. He'd feel their life, waves of texture and sensation all around, breath and breeze. Never enough for him to accurately describe what was around him, but enough to know what it was. Some senior Warlocks could use this sensation as a replacement for the radar in their helmets, and use it better than the radar as well. If he truly focused, he could pick up errant traces of emotion filtering through the air towards him. Hints of happiness, sadness, anger, fear.

Of course, he needed to stand perfectly still and block everything else out to actually do this. Still, few things were as inherently relaxing for him than this. Even with the crushing pressure of the Barrier folding around his mind, it was still relaxing.

This time, he pushed his Light against the Barrier in a wall, sliding song its width instead of his usual interaction. Normally he tried to smash his way through to siphon the paracausal power that the Barrier held away from him, more an obstacle than a thing of interest. And with his nonstop self-propelled missions and machinery projects, he had not found time to properly study the phenomenon. Well, he had, he just really didn't want to. There had only ever been one thing that had ever felt close to the Barrier, and it was not something he liked thinking about. The Cage. The thing the Red Legion had covered the Traveler with during the opening hours of the Red War, the thing that had severed their connection to the Light.

Regardless, he needed to actually face it. It was here, and it was a problem that had hobbled him since the moment he skidded onto Remnant's surface. He was a Guardian, he had died so many times that death was an inconvenience for him. He was part of a line of God-killers and monster-slayers and all that.

He kept adding more positive platitudes in his mind as he set about doing the thing that he should have done much sooner.

The Barrier had texture. This was a surprise, as the first thought he had had about it was that it was oily. Oily was the wrong word, glossy was better. He draped his own Light along, feeling it give and stretch against his efforts. He pressed, and the glossy sheen gave way to a thousand thousand wrinkles. They stretched and warped to combat the pressure he was attempting to exert back on the Barrier, like a sheet of wire fencing cupping around a large boulder. It was pliable, but utterly impassable like this.

Unconsciously, he frowned. Instead, he reached for the tear he had put in it, and despite being miles and miles from the place he had torn the Barrier, he found it next to him. He reached into it, into the impossibly small tear and felt its ragged edges. Tiny pricks stabbed at his attempt, like thorns on a bush. On the other side Light swirled in a dazzling display, separated from him in a manner that was equal parts tantalizing and infuriating.

Hakke was not the most skilled Guardian to have ever been resurrected, not by a long shot. But he could say quite easily that most of the problems he had faced so far would not have been nearly as problematic as they would have been, had he had his Light.

He pushed against the tear, trying to widen it like he had down in the basement of the farm. It was like trying to grab an opening made of knife points, but only when he tried pulling them apart. He could make a funnel of his Light to access the bounty on the other end, but he just couldn't seem to widen the hole. Maybe the answer lay along the edge. He focused on the points, willing his mind to understand what they were exactly. He already know the Barrier was made up of something similar to the Light, but as he honed in, that wasn't what he found.

The Barrier wasn't similar to Light, it was Light. Light that had been bent to a purpose, in almost the exact same way he bent Light to heal his wounds, or form into weapons. There was a sense of purpose here, of meaning. His mind stopped its probing. If Light had been formed into this Barrier, then there had to have been a tremendous amount of willpower behind it. He had yet to go anywhere on the planet that hadn't had the Barrier. Did it extend beyond? What made it? Hakke didn't know what could be capable of that. He would have to try to understand how the Barrier was put together to begin to answer the other questions. Like any other Light construct, there was a way to assemble it.

Another sensation brushed his mind, one as familiar as his own. A small sphere of radiant potential which floated alongside the point he used as an anchor, and then spoke.

"Get your head in the game Hakke. Traveler above, you should have better spatial awareness than this."

He let his concentration abide, returning to the here and now. The game floor was the same, very little had changed. According to the massive clock across the game floor, less than three minutes had passed. He turned to see a concerned Cerulean gesturing with her head down to the game floor.

"What?" He asked out of instinct, before actually looking and immediately seeing the problem.

Directly below their little balcony alcove, a small squad of blue suited men and women were dispersing across the floor. Syndicate thugs. And at their head was a man in a purple vest, sideburns, and with a collapsed greatsword strapped to his back.

Hakke turned so his back was to the floor and promptly walked to the far wall, where he was joined by Cerulean.

"So that's bad."

"Ringtail didn't say anything about Murex being here." Cerulean hissed. "This feels like a trap, more and more."

"No she did not, and yes it does. But we do know now, so we have the element of surprise." Hakke said as he began to walk further along towards the shelter.

Cerulean followed. "You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting, are you?"

"I am. Besides, we have a staggering amount of firepower on our side this time."

"Looks like the situation is getting worse for us, not like backing out was an option. They're spreading out down there, it looked like Murex was searching for something, or most likely someone. That someone is probably us."

"Firepower. Staggering. We should also go." Hakke said as he pointed further down the hall. Hopefully Murex and his Blue Boys had yet to see them up here, which would allow them to continue unmolested. They both began to walk briskly towards the shelter.

"Right. We're both in agreement that we've almost certainly been double crossed, correct?"

"Probably."

"The signs point to yes." Callie chimed in.

"Okay, just wanted to make sure we're all on the same page."

"Second thoughts?"

"Nope."


Hands in the pockets of his oh-so-standard Syndicate blue suit jacket, Greene strolled down the aisles of gambling tables, taking looks at the various card combos held in the hands of the assorted patrons. One man in a suede vest glared at the faunus as he paced by, before Greene paused to consider his hand, a straight by the looks of it, and give him two thumbs up. His hand was fairly good, all things considered, though the man probably didn't appreciate Greene telling the other people in the game that.

He continued on, near the head of the conga line of Syndicate henchmen summoned up by the Merchant and Murex, just behind the boss-man himself and right beside Flo. Or at least, he now was, once he caught up after his momentary reprieve. She glared at him, and he responded in his traditional way, with a smirk and a shrug. Always high strung and always so much fun to mess with.

Pretty soon they got to the center of the game floor, where Murex paused and turned left. As Greene and Flo got there, they turned to the right, exiting the little column of Syndicate men and onwards their own objective. Their plan was one of the best sorts: so simple that nothing could really go wrong with it. At least, nothing they could screw up.

"Was that truly necessary?" Flo hissed quietly.

"Was what necessary?" Greene responded normally. "You mean the card thing? One hundred percent. Did you see how many chips that guy had? He was killin' em! Had to even it out for the little guy."

"What part of 'not drawing attention' is so hard for you to accomplish?"

"Are you kidding? If I was acting all hoity toity and proper and stuff, then any of the schmucks who work here and know me, which is a few, would know I'm up to no good."

She sucked a sigh in through clenched teeth. "Of course you already have a reputation."

"Hell yea I do."

The game floor was large, and it took them almost a minute to clear the rows of slot machines and gaming tables present. The place was definitely low on constituents at the moment, which was good for their purposes. Flo had a device on her that would trigger a particular alarm system, the Dust leak alarm to be precise, which would by default have the building be evacuated. Said device would also prevent the system from dialing out to the proper authorities, so no cops or firefighters would start poking their noses in where they didn't belong.

Greene spotted a lone drink on a table, something blue with one of those paper umbrellas and a straw in it, a drink he liberated from being undrunk as he passed by. He gave it a sip, and made a thoughtful face at its overwhelming sweetness and fruity flavor, before he offered it to Flo. She didn't even react, so he decided that it was his. After bobbing around one or three staff, they made their way out of the game floor and into a rich carpeted hallway. One turn more and they entered a staff only section, the guard there letting them in with a simple nod.

This was expected. They were the right and left hand of Murex respectively, a very well known enforcer for the Syndicate, and as such had some pretty great perks. Murex worked for the Accountant, and as such, Flo and Greene had both been here many times. More than enough for most of the staff to recognize that they had the run of the place, minus some of the more exclusive sections. That sort of clout was achieved only by folks like Murex or Magenta, the people who worked directly under the Merchant or Accountant.

Shame they'd probably have to put a few of those staffers down before the night ended.

Still, that was a problem for future Greene to deal with. Current Greene had a much simpler task to deal with compared to that, and one he was wonderfully suited for: running distraction for Flo. She had the hacking thing, and knew how to use it and do so fast. Greene then would just talk the ear off anyone before they could enter the security closet that they had selected.

So they made their way there, Greene snarking as he walked along, Flo adding her replies in her regular terse and irritated manner. From their earlier meetings to sort out the plan, it looked like the security was designed around the Grimm shelter at the belly of the building, almost analogous to a nervous system in a person. It hugged the strongest structural points, curved in and out of the skeleton of the building and terminated in its brain, the central control room in the shelter itself. Of course they wouldn't need to go there, just tap into one of the Lucky Roll's nerves close to the entrance of the shelter.

Better bandwidth, easier to access the systems. All that good stuff.

Their path took them past the public access door to the shelter. It was a massive thing, easily large enough for a column of people eight across to enter with below room to spare. It was made of Dust reinforced steel in multiple layers, similar to the armor found on Atlesian battlecruisers. Thick weld beads poked along its surface, connecting the various supportive struts and the gear system embedded in the floor and ceiling that pulled the doors open and shut. A holographic banner separated the doors from the rest of the casino, the richly designed carpet ending underneath as text scrolled across to tell patrons exactly what this was.

They nodded at the two guards present there, and went down another staff only hallway. The main door was not the only entrance to the shelter, and each of the smaller openings had the security closet they were looking for. The smaller openings were heavily secured air vents and supply shutes, short tunnels and elevators designed to collapse at a moment's notice if need be, while also providing access to rescuers and escape routes if the shelter was compromised.

A turn or so down the staff hall and the decor got cheaper, with short utilitarian carpeting and walls made of plaster instead of wood. Still well kept and neat, just not all that fancy anymore. After all, there was no need for the casino to impress its staff like it did its guests. Now it was storerooms, meeting rooms, utility closets, all the stuff necessary to run the building that the guests never got to see. They breezed past it all, the few other people back here giving them the right of way without a comment.

"It's right over here." Flo said, and walked past the entrance to an open room. Inside was a guard sitting on a chair reading a magazine, leaning against a frosted glass barrier, directly across from a steel vault door. Greene nodded at the man as they passed, even though the guard didn't even notice. It was a security checkpoint to one of the tertiary entrances to the shelter, judging by the steel door and the fact that the guard was armed with a rifle.

One more turn and they found the door they'd been looking for. Flo placed her Scroll against the electrical lock which clicked open after a few seconds. As she entered, Greene leaned against the wall next to the door and pulled out his own Scroll, opening up a basic game which he began to play. While he looked distracted, he kept an ear out for any footsteps approaching; a few minutes later he heard some. They neared the security door, got to right around the corner before continuing down the hall.

Greene shrugged, and restarted his game after another death.

It was a boring job alright, but someone had to do it. A minute or so passed before a siren tone began to play over the speakers of the casino, a robotic voice announcing a Dust leak and the need for a timely evacuation. Greene snapped his Scroll back into his pocket as a satisfied looking Flo emerged.

"Everything go ok?" Greene asked, as if the siren didn't answer his question.

"Of course." She responded. "Now, let's get back to the game floor. Who knows what traps the Accountant will have ready for us."

"I'm lookin' forward to it." Greene said with a toothy grin. "Need to get a few good licks in to make up for the last scuffle."

"We'll have to take it carefully. And please don't try to block every bullet with your face this time, even if it might improve your looks."

"A few good scars should add to my rugged charm, not a bad idea there!" He retorted, falling easily into the flow. Until the sound of shattering glass and a yell boomed loud enough to drown out the siren. One exchanged glance had Greene and Flo cautiously approach the source of the crash.

It had come from the room with the side entrance to the shelter. The frosted glass had been shattered entirely, the chair that the guard had been sitting in was broken. The guard meanwhile, was unconscious having just been thrown through the glass, judging by the massive amount of glass fragments covering him. Off to one side another guard was unconscious against a wall, legs splayed out in front of him. Of course, neither of these things were what caught Greene's attention first.

That would be the two people who had froze while picking the glass guard up. One had their back mostly to them, a slightly tanned young man in a large dark coat with a frayed bottom, the loop of a satchel roping around a shoulder and underneath small armored patches on each shoulder top. His arms were warped in splint metal gauntlets of some variety; a small iron band imprinted with grey fabric was wrapped around his left bicep. Most notable was the three-chevron design that Murex had shown them via drawing when he was hunting that rabble rouser earlier in the week. Same design. Greene surmised another member of the mysterious Three Chevrons had just revealed himself.

The other was older than the first by a handful of years, a faunus woman going off her larger than normal ears, her brown hair pulled back in a tight bun on the top of her head. Her clothes were basic, black slacks and suspenders, her white dress shirt neatly tucked in at the waistband. That said, Greene had run into enough cops to know one even out of uniform. This woman was a cop, through and through, it came in her stance, her looks, her flat nose. It also helped he just outright knew who she was. One Detective Serena Cerulean, VPD.

Both the detective and her partner he supposed were staring at Greene and Flo. The man had a similar enough look to a raccoon he had once startled late at night as it dug through the trash: startled and confused more than anything else. Cerulean on the other hand looked as if she was debating how long it would take to pull the weird looking rifle off her back and point it at them.

He and Flo exchanged glances. There were only so many reasons that someone would just happen to be breaking into an anti-Grimm shelter at the exact same time a Syndicate two-team hit would be happening.

Still, nobody moved.

Finally, Greene spoke. "So. You guys team two or?" And with that he brought the straw of his stolen drink to his lips and took a noisy drink.

The two strangers exchanged glances of their own. "Uhh. Yes?" The man said slowly.

"Good enough for me." Greene said, turning to Flo for her opinion. As per usual, she didn't respond, instead beginning her own inquiry.

"I do not believe it's good enough for me. You're Detective Cerulean, correct? And you, who are you?" She asked, going from one to the other.

"I am." The detective said carefully. "His name is Hoss."

Hoss looked between the two groups. "I - yes it is. I'm Hoss. That's Cerulean as you somehow know. How do you know that?"

"We've met." Cerulean said tersly.

"Hey now, it wasn't all that bad." Greene said. And from his point of view it hadn't been. It had been a lot of fun actually. It wasn't often he got to lie to the face of a detective at the scene of a crime he committed while they both knew he had done it, only to have all evidence and circumstance tied up in perfectly spun alibis. It was especially gratifying seeing as no one had been hurt, all that badly.

"Now look," Hoss began, letting the guard drop from his hands absentmindedly, who promptly cracked their head against the floor. Cerulean hissed something at him under her breath as the man grabbed the man again and hauled him over to a less glass filled spot in the room. "According to Ringtail there's a massive Boost making operation down in the shelter that we're supposed to get rid of, alongside thirty something people they've kidnapped to make it. I don't know what she wants you to do, as I'm guessing you're team one, but if you aren't gonna help, could you piss off please?"

"Well that is… it certainly explains quite a bit. Excuse us." Flo said, turning to Greene. Behind her Greene could see Cerulean egging Hoss on, something about getting the shelter open.

"Thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Greene asked, his voice low.

"That someone with the three chevron insignia is accompanying one of the Syndicate's wanted? Things are strange enough with this one as is, I'd rather save our strength for aiding Murex in our mission than fighting them. I believe the decision should be his though."

"Yeah, I like that. Let the boss sort it out."

Flo nodded and got out her Scroll, keeping it to audio only. "Sir, I believe we've met the Merchant's second team. They're heading down into the Grimm shelter to destroy a Boost making center."

Murex's voice clipped through low, the sound of the siren making it harder to hear. "Good to know. Makes sense why she'd dedicate another team to that. Anything else?"

"Its a team of two. One has the same three chevron logo on his back, the one described by the mercenary team Sable employed and by yourself. The other is Detective Serena Cerulean."

There was a pause.

"What the hell is she playing at?" Murex asked softly. "Follow them. Give them a hand with their mission, god knows we can't allow Boost to get out onto the streets anymore than it already has. See if you can figure out what their angle is."

"What about you, sir?"

"I'll be fine. Slynt managed to get some freelancers to join in for this one. Between them and the regulars, I've got this managed."

Freelancers. Not quite Huntsmen, but far better than say, Junior's goons for hire. They were either Academy dropouts of self taught folks from beyond the kingdom's walls. Not the best that money could get, but they made up for it in the lack of questions asked, and overall competency. It's how Greene started his career after all.

"Understood sir, we won't let you down." Flo said, closing her Scroll. "Back to work."

"Yep." Greene agreed, turning around to see that Hoss was gone. Well, not gone-gone, just out of sight. He could hear muttered curses coming from around a corner in the shelter access room, as the man tried to get the shelter door open. Cerulean meanwhile was staring the two Syndicate lieutenants down, one hand on the strap of her weird angular rifle.

"Boss man says to help you guys out." He said.

"Brothers, no. That's a terrible idea."

"Unfortunately, that is how it's going to play out." Flo added.

"Any way I can convince you to not join up with us?"

"No."

"Awesome." Cerulean stated in a monotone. The shelter door opened behind her to reveal a rickety looking elevator platform, more than large enough to fit a small car. "Hey Hoss."

"Yea?" The man replied, walking towards his police partner.

"Guess they're joining us." She said, the duo walking onto the elevator.

"That's a terrible idea."

"I know."

"Can we convince em' not to?"

"Not without killing them."

"That sucks." Hoss then looked to the two Syndicate lieutenants. "Well? Let's get this over with."

With that and a shrug, Greene and Flo walked onto the swaying elevator platform, positioning themselves between their two new temporary colleagues. As the elevator began to descend with a jerk, Greene decided to formally introduce himself and his partner.

"I'm Greene and this is Flo, and personally," he said as they descended down into the dark, "I think this is gonna be a lot of fun."


Murex drummed his fingers on the counter of the bar. He was against one of the far walls of the game floor, waiting for the alarm to remove any and all civilians from the casino. Thankfully, the few patrons that were milling around the game floor gave him a wide berth, which was to be expected. He looked like a Huntsman, and one that was not open to chit chat. Alongside that, most of the patrons outside a few determined individuals had already left the floor, correctly guessing that an influx of almost twenty identically dressed men and women meant nothing good.

He had positioned himself close to the elevator up to the top floors, a full 12 stories up to where Azariah Sable had his office. Hopefully the man was up there right now, plugging away at his spreadsheets unaware of what was brewing below him. Besides the elevator, he was also near one of the main entrances to the game floor itself, a large set of stairs with golden and ornate railings. Even the plants that had been placed in planters on either side of the stairs were rare, some sort of flowering thing out of Mistral, if he remembered right.

Distractions, really. He focused on his breathing, steady, slow breaths. Murex had found that it was never wise to start a hit while his nerves hadn't been brought under control. It helped that he was rarely called to perform hits in the first place. He was an enforcer first and foremost; his job was to be intimidating and hit the people that needed hitting. His duties may lead to the occasional death of course, but that came from the nature of the people he wound up against.

Usually a broken leg would get the point across.

Behind him the various loaned and loyal Syndicate members milled about the floor, feigning interest in the slots or the pai gow poker table. Each one was armed, either with a sleek submachine gun or pistol, all with the heaviest calibers they could get their hands on, and long knives. All of which was hidden in their jackets quite well. He had managed to confirm a fair number of his own personal crew were loyal, and he noted with pride how they remained vigil, despite looking the exact opposite.

Then there were the two freelancers, both sporting Syndicate Blue armbands, both qualified to take Huntsmen bounties if they wanted. Of course, these two had chosen the more profitable line of muscle-for-hire. One, a human woman with spiked neon blue hair, and a torn crop top, had what looked like a tennis racket collapsed in her hands. She twirled the thing idly and fiddled with something in a pouch on her hip, he guessed grenades to use with the racket. The other was a large faunus man, a dalmatian tail poking out from behind him. He was dressed in simple street clothes, denim pants and denim vest, a large studded club strapped to his back. At least he had thrown a bag over the bottom half in a half-hearted attempt to hide the thing.

He hadn't worked with these two before, and so far he was far from impressed. It was obvious they were muscle, hell, they would have been kicked out of the casino under normal circumstances.

He stopped paying attention to the freelancers, returning his focus to the elevator and the stairs. That's where trouble or opportunity would come from. He'd prefer to meet either headfirst. As he stared, the speakers built into hidden places all around the floor cracked to life with the thin wail of a siren and the robotic alarm voice that Vale demanded every emergency broadcast used called out a Dust leak. The remaining patrons looked at each other nervously before they began to file out towards the exits, alongside the staff.

He nodded to one as they left, at the very least they knew how to respond to danger, it had been ingrained in them since they were children. When the chance of Grimm breaking in to kill everyone never quite reached zero, prudency usually won the day. Now all he had to do was wait.

His Scroll buzzed. He unfolded it to see that it was Flo calling him.

"Sir," her voice called out once he answered, "I believe we've met the Merchant's second team. They're heading down into the Grimm shelter to destroy a Boost making center."

He raised an eyebrow. So that was the Merchant's game. A solid objective. But there had to be more, Flo wouldn't interrupt him like this if it was something simple like that. Kora Slynt was one of the top members of the Syndicate for a reason; any team she assembled would be more than qualified for the job she gave them.

He spoke low. "Good to know. Makes sense why she'd dedicate another team to that. Anything else?"

"It's a team of two. One has the same three chevron logo on his back, the one described by the mercenary team Sable employed and by yourself. The other is Detective Serena Cerulean."

He paused. That… was unexpected. Completely unexpected. Another member of Three Chevrons had already cropped up, and was working for Slynt. Two members of that mysterious organization had already been killed, and each one had been in conflict with the Syndicate. Or maybe the rot that had taken root in the Syndicate. Still, that didn't explain the Detective. Why her? He would need to talk with Slynt after this to sort it out. He was being kept in the dark far more than he ever wanted to be.

He couldn't stop himself from mumbling a bit. "What the hell is she playing at?" Murex asked, before collecting himself. "Follow them. Give them a hand with their mission, god knows we can't allow Boost to get out onto the streets anymore than it already has. See if you can figure out what their angle is."

"What about you, sir?"

"I'll be fine. Slynt managed to get some freelancers to join in for this one. Between them and the regulars, I've got this managed."

"Understood sir, we won't let you down." Flo said as she ended the call.

Stranger and stranger. Two more pieces of a puzzle that was obviously larger than he had expected, and there he was with only a handful of pieces. He had never been informed as to why Detective Cerulean had to die, but going off what he knew now about the Society of the Sword, it seemed that she had managed to discover something important about them, something that meant she needed to be eliminated. Then the question became what?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw motion moving in the opposite direction of the last few straggling patrons. He looked and muttered a curse under his breath. Police officers in uniform. Three of them. Two beat cops and one in the informal uniform of a Detective: tucked in dress shirt and suspenders, alongside a trilby hat. He left the bar and began to make his way over when he saw the fourth member of the law and order team.

Blond hair in a tight bun, one curl off to the side. Thin glasses, and a librarian's stare. Ruffled sleeved shirt and a small purple cape. He had never met her in person, but he knew a professional, and veteran, Huntsmen when he saw one. The woman looked familiar as well, it was a face he knew he had seen before, before it hit him hard and fast.

The cops had brought goddamn Glynda Goodwitch with them.

Still, he was the lead here, so he approached the stairs, meeting them before they could get off the staircase. From up above at the top of the elevator, the platform began to move down.

"Evening." he called over the din of the siren.

The assembly stopped, the detective seeming to finally take notice of him. "Good evening, a bit loud in here, don't you think?"

"Dust fire somewhere in the basement, you know the policy, non essential personnel and staff have to leave."

"And this would include officers of the law?"

"Look, officer - "

"Detective. Detective Rich Ponci." The detective interrupted as if that mattered to Murex.

"-unless you have good reason to be here, or a warrant that overrides kingdom law, I'm afraid I'll have to have you escorted out of the building." Murex finished, not breaking eye contact.

Unfortunately, it was not the detective who answered.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're a member of the Syndicate, aren't you Mr…" Glynda Goodwitch butted in.

"I am." He said, fixing the woman with his stare. "Last time I checked association with any given organization is not a crime, unless the Council has been updating the law without letting the public know. So I repeat myself. If you don't have a warrant, you have to leave."

"Look," Ponci butted in again, taking a few steps towards Murex, "we have reason to believe a known fugitive by the name of Just Hakke is somewhere within this building. He's been linked to several violent crimes, including a shootout in a full apartment building. We might not have the warrant, but it would be unethical for us to just leave."

"Just Hakke?" Murex asked incredulously.

"It's a strange name, I know. Probably an alias of some sort."

Hakke was dead. Murex knew that because he had watched half of the man's head turn to vapor. Alias indeed. It seemed that Three Chevrons were trying to create a myth in the city, by letting their operatives all assume the same strange name. Still, that changed nothing, for the moment at least.

"Regardless. No warrant, no entry."

"If that's your position, then allow me. As a Huntress, I offer my services to help with the Dust fire. I have a semblance that is, uniquely suited to help deal with that problem."

Murex glowered slightly. Huntsmen and Huntresses were not cops. They were more akin to private citizens with more legal clout. She may have phrased it as an offer, but it wasn't. Goodwitch wasn't going to leave until she had what she wanted, the man from Three Chevrons. The man Murex wanted to talk to at the end of all this.

He opened his mouth to retort when someone else cut him off.

"Oh Murex, always following the rules. Please, allow me."

All heads turned. The elevator had arrived and opened to reveal someone he had really hoped wouldn't be there. Strolling out of the elevator, a thin long case in her manicured hand, was the white suited Magenta Magnolia. Behind her were two blue suited guards, both men with sunken, serious faces. She sauntered over to the foot of the stairs before addressing everyone gathered there.

"The Dust problem is already being addressed, and thankfully it has not moved far enough along to be a real problem. Soon enough we can turn this irritating alarm off as well." She turned to the officers and their accompanying Huntress. "My two men here will show you to our main security room, from there I believe it should be simple to begin tracking this dangerous criminal loose in our building."

"How do you know that's why we're here?" Goodwitch asked.

"I called ahead." Detective Ponci answered quickly. "In situations like these it's cooperation that catches the bad guys."

He extended a hand back up the stairs, a gesture which was answered by the two sunken faced men nodding and making their way back up and out of the game floor.

Murex didn't like this, and judging by how the Huntress suddenly looked a touch guarded, neither did she. At least she didn't seem like a complete fool. He had hoped that Magenta wouldn't be here, even if that chance was insignificant to begin with. He would have to deal with this change he supposed. On a different note, the fact that the Detective was the one to answer a question for Magenta, and he did so in a hurry made him nervous. There were cops on the Syndicate's payroll, was he one of them? And if he was, did he take his Lien from the Syndicate, or from Society backers?

Goodwitch's voice snapped him out of his train of thought.

"Is what's happening here somehow related to that Handshake agreement?" Both Murex and Magenta turned to look at her. "I thought so. Whatever this is, that agreement is only between the different crime families. I will be watching. And I will bring you both down the moment this gets out of hand." With that she turned and followed the police as they left the floor.

The two Syndicate members watched them leave, and waited until they were out of sight in the bowels of the building. The game floor was relatively quiet, no sound from any of the milling Syndicate members as they watched their two leaders face off. There were the ambient sounds of water splashing in the fountain and music from some of the slot machines as they tried to attract money. Beyond that, silence.

Magenta turned to him. "If you would." Her voice wasn't the sugary sweet tone she had taken with the cops, it had returned to her usual tone, the one she used to make sure those around her knew they were lesser. She bid him to follow with her finger as she went behind the bar, putting her case on the counter.

"They're yours, aren't they?" He asked, approaching but keeping his distance.

"Of course they are. Loyal with both Lien and fear." She poured liquor from one of the bottles and mixed something with it under the counter. "Like most of the police, they offer only lip service to their precious law and order, everything else about them is… transient. Open to the highest bidder."

"And was that bidder you, or the Syndicate?" He said in a low voice.

"What are you implying?" She responded slowly, a smile growing on her perfect, hateable face.

"I'm implying that they aren't bought out by the Syndicate, are they? They belong to the Society, don't they?" He kept his eyes on her, but he could hear murmurs behind him from his men. It wasn't this conversation that had them spooked either, there were the sounds of movement popping in all around them.

"You do not approve, do you?" She said, bringing two glasses up and onto the counter. "You're much like them as they wish to be seen. Loyal to an organization that is but a system of rules, an attempt to bring oversight to chaos. That loyalty is something to be treasured, and dare I say it is one of your only good traits."

She slid the glass towards him and continued. "It is flawed, however. That system you love so much. But you are the man you are, and as such, I doubt there is anything we could have done to have made you reconsider your perspective. It is a shame, if I am to be honest. You could have been more."

He didn't even need to look at the drink to know what it was. The distinctive bite of Vacuoan red leaf wafted off of it. Brandy with red leaf. The Accountant's favorite drink.

"You had to have known we would notice your arrival."

"The only thing I was hoping for was that you wouldn't be here." Murex said.

"Wishful thinking." She said with a smirk. Murex finally looked behind at the small sounds of commotion. As he had thought, the Accountant's men had emerged on the peripheries of the game floor. There weren't all that many of them, about an even amount to the number of Syndicate troops he had brought. Twenty versus twenty, and he had the number advantage of Aura capable fighters, enough to hopefully overcome the close-quarters juggernaut that was Magenta.

Not to mention his backer had supplied his men with some rather fancy, and highly illegal, tools that made his troops far more capable than the Accountants. Even if Sable had sent another thirty men at them, he was confident they would still have the advantage.

Then he saw them.

Between the Accountant's reinforcements emerged a host of oddly dressed figures. They were all identical, almost looking like even cheaper versions of White Fang insurgents. Their baggy pants and sweatshirts were a dull ruddy red, the only thing giving them proper shape being black knee and elbow pads. They all had low quality armor vests, the ones made of layers of fibers with thin ceramic plates in-between. Their hoods were up, and their faces were covered by identical blank white masks. No markings outside of two eye holes leading to darkness. Every inch of them was covered up, without exception. They shambled out into the open, almost fifty in total that he could see, each one armed.

They carried themselves strangely. The ones with guns held them loosely, letting them dangle from their hands as they leaned forward in an almost animalistic anticipation. Others held various knives, axes, hammers, and swords in clenched fists. Berserkers if he had ever seen them.

His eyes narrowed. The masks covered their eyes, which was the easiest tell if someone was on Boost. Were these addicts? Regardless, their presence shifted the balance of the coming fight; shifted it away from Murex and his crew.

He moved without thinking, reacting as his Precognition screamed danger at him. Arbitrator flashed out just in time to catch the whiplike blade of Magenta as it slashed away, the force behind the unexpected blow knocking him back a step. He could feel her semblance scraping against the small amount of Aura that protected his weapon, seeking to slice through the material.

The sound of metal against metal rang out over the semi-silence. Behind him, he could hear his men pulling their weapons, his freelancers readying their own weapons. Beyond that, his Precognition hissed warnings as some of the Accountant's cultists pointed their weapons his way. He forced his mind to focus on the biggest threat in the room.

She walked slowly around the bar, her whip-blade held lightly in one hand, the five razors together in a single long katana-styled blade. "We knew you would refuse us the moment Sable handed you that card. And since you will lend us your strength, we have a different use for you."

Murex adjusted his grip, holding Arbitrator out in a forward guard as he backed up in pace with Magenta. "The Good Doctor spent so much time shackling these beasts to our will, and you have the honor of proving if his effort bore fruit."

She scanned the scene in front of her serenely, before daintily plucking a small brown stone disk from her breast pocket. He raised it to her lips between two manicured fingers and softly spoke into it.

"Kill them."

Society cultists raised guns that thrummed with harsh purple light. Syndicate members pulled military weapons out of their coats, some activating Atlesian Hard Dust shields to act as barricades. Above everything else, in a single howling wave of fury and bloodlust, the Shackled poured out onto the game floor.

And all hell broke loose.


I lived.

Well, I ain't dead, that's for sure. I've learned if you don't have a hard schedule for this sort of stuff you end up doing nothing for extended periods of time. So I'm going to try to apply to a monthly release schedule from here on. I mean, its the Finale (of this arc). Finally. All the pieces are in place and I can finally rip the tarp of all the fun stuff I've been planning.

- RangoTango

'Ere we go 'ere we go 'ERE WE GO 'ERE WE GO

Al the Obsessive - That's what I'm going for. Guardians have the deck stacked in their favor. I mean, they need it given the outright grim-dark world Destiny is in, but still. The world of RWBY is dark, but not nearly as bleak. So having Hakke being a very good gunfighter and a novice melee fighter was the way to go. Besides, he'll get better.

Vitilig0 - Same way it would affect non-paracausal stuff in-game I think (fallen, cabal tropes, etc) Slow em down and disorient the hell out of em, but not eat into their Aura too much. At least, that's the way I'm going to run it.

holandia1103 - Thank you, schedule's the same, but I'm getting better at efficiently juggling it.

The Baz - Warlock…ium. Yes. I'll take it. And yes, it actually helped patched up a couple of details to the larger plot, so it all makes more sense as to the why and the how and whatnot.

Guest - Savathun proved why the Witness wanted her as a Disciple. As far as her and Rhulk and the Witness all go, I don't think we really have enough info yet to sort that whole mess out outside Witness is the big bad.

Singular Ash - Replying to all comments here. Hakke not using Rifts is more due to the high mobility of his combat encounters. Rifts are super useful for holding a position, but if up against something that can knock him out of its area, or outmaneuver him, they lose their strategic value. It's not a nerf and more he hasn't been in a situation where taking the time to cast one wouldn't end in someone closing the distance and clapping his cheeks immediately. As for the villain part, I take that as a massive compliment. I love the classic mustache twirling bastard as a villain archetype, so there'll be plenty more despicable goons in need of getting smashed. I started writing this before primary ammo was infinite, otherwise I'm just using real world logic. Shotgun/sniper ammo: easier to make. Fusion and Linear fusion rifles: much harder. Gonna cherry pick solar 3.0 stuff, go off what makes sense for Hakke to know or figure out.

H: Good questions! I will definitely have answers eventually! I'm still sorting that one out in my head, but I figure some balance of physical healing, or supercharging Aura's natural healing bits and semblances or allowing them to go longer or something. I'll get it ironed out, just imagine that particular section still has work-in-progress tape over it.

Gible - Thank you, and here's hoping future chapters keep on living up to expectation!

silkr0ad - Firstly, thank you! Secondly, that's some very valid criticism. Next few chapters aren't slowing down, I can say that with certainty, but once the mess at the casino is wrapped up, fleshing out all the various characters both canon and not is in order. Pressure will still be on, but having the occasional breather isn't a bad idea at all.