Hear ye! Hear ye! This is a short chapter!
Hey guys! I'm back with a short chapter for you! Sadly, not much action in this one. This is more of a "transitionary" or "eye of the storm" type of episode where not much really goes on except for the setup for the chapter after this. (Think Vol 1 Chap 10).
Nonetheless, I ask that you continue to send in reviews, thoughts and opinions! Just be polite :).
TBH, I was surprised by the number of reviews I got in quick succession! I'll be answering them.
But before we go any further, please vote on Gino's semblance! I would really appreciate your input on what it should be called! Now, the reviews.
Dontus- not Donut- Powerus (How many mistook that? lol): Wow. Just wow. You left a lot of reviews in such short time dude! Not really sure how to answer all of them honestly but I'll try my best!
-Chp 5: Wasn't exactly my intention at the time BUT it is certainly a possibility to consider in the future. And yes, I suppose he would be used to her trolling. Also this one was a bit confusing to read...
-Chp 6: She does have knack for underestimating pretty much anyone she deems inferior ngl.
-Chp 7: See response to your Chp 5 review. Pretty much the same. That and I'm not really comfortable/sure how to write that type of relationship 'll have to wait and see.
-Chp 9: Hope this chapter's short length doesn't bother you too much. Also yes, wuby getting jewwous dawwww...
Werwolffr: Not really familiar with the Akito movies in the CG universe unfortunately, so I'm not really sure how to fit him in the story yet. Tho your idea has merit, ngl. Him acting as a rabble rouser is a pretty good idea. Also Chibi duly noted. And another thing. Rage-sex? Damnnnnnnnnnnnnnn B) (fr tho, glad you liked it.)
OBSERVER01: Glad you like it!
Ewerton Da Silva Rodrigues: Haven;t heard from you in sometime! Glad to see you liked the chapter! And to answer the other parts, much intrigue and mystery abound.
YuukiAsuna-Chan: I promise that the story will get better. And like most pairings in RWBY, it ain't exactly set in stone. And yeah, it pains me to say it but once more, best girl C.C will NOT feature in this story. Majorly at least. Still, glad to see you adding me to fav despite it!
Now before we carry on with the short chapter, I once again ask you to cherish what you have in these frankly crappy times. I know the news we hear everyday may be scary, like the Indonesian Submarine Sinking (RIP). But that is all the more reason to get up and appreciate what you have. What you've been blessed with. Even the smallest of things. It will make your day, even if by the slightest of margins.
So please, be grateful for what you have and please be kind to everyone. Don't be a-holes :(.
Now, onto the fic!
Posted: 27/04/2021
Chapter 9
REVEILLE! REVEI-FUCKING-LLE! Get up, ya twats!
What, 3 hours of sleep not enough for you? Tough luck, lad! You won't be sleeping at all today!
Come on, move it Move It MOVE IT! My gran moves faster than you lot! We could be eating a right brekkie but NO! We're here because you decided to be a bunch of lazy wankers!
This, boys and girls, is the Baker-Winkle Battle Rifle. She will be your wife while you're here and you'd damn well treat her that way, as if the sun itself shines out of her arse. She will be your closest companion, your second half. Do right by her and she'll do right by you.
Listen hard, you posh, blue-blooded bastards! My job here is to turn you into soldiers. Not parade ground soldiers but battlefield soldiers. And we'll do it properly. I don't want to see any shortcuts! Now, I know every skiving, dishonest, malingering army trick there is. I was that because I started right where you did, in the ranks! Remember that! Welcome to your new home, children.
In two months, you will leave here adults.
In two months, you will learn to outgun, outwit and outmanoeuvre your opponents.
In two months, you will learn to kill and to protect.
In two months, I'm going to teach you to be soldiers.
Excerpts from drill instructors, Grand Imperial Military Academy.
-Britannia, Imperial Palace, Emperor's Study-
"Will that be all, your Majesty?"
"Yes. Thank you, Walter. You may retire."
An elderly butler gave a prompt bow and exited the grand office, leaving his master alone with his thoughts.
That is, if one did not look closely.
"Might I speak now?"
He got up from his chair and stepped towards the open window, watching the trees across his vast estate rustle with a gentle evening breeze against the backdrop of a sunset. He softly sighed to himself as he took in the view, clipping and lighting a cigar before putting it in his mouth. He rolled it around, taking in its rich taste and letting the buzz of nicotine seep into his mind. He exhaled deeply and turned around to his associate.
"Clarence, I take your breaching of the security yet again means you have some news for me?"
A pair of fine leather shoes stepped out of a shadow from a tiny corner of the office, squeezed between two bookshelves. Emerging was an elderly, lean built gentleman who had an air of youth and a twinkle of mischief in a pair of emerald eyes, dressed in a navy blue suit, white shirt and red tie. His hair was a faded blood red mop that was swept back with streaks of grey poking through. And his face had a friendly but cocksure smile with the slightest hints of age around his mouth and eyes.
"Please. You were the one who was asking for an update on our foreign affairs. My intrusion is merely an exercise for your guards."
"And knowing them, they'll be foaming at the mouth when they find out about it," snorted the man, turning around to face the older gentleman.
The two stared each other down, one with a stone-cold stare of indifference that he perfected over years and the other with an insolent and rebellious smirk that almost never failed to get on someone's nerves. Then the room rocked with laughter. The two embraced each other tightly before separating. "How have you been, wily old fox?"
"Same as always, you big brutish bastard," chuckled back Clarence. If the setting were more formal, these words would have never been heard, lest he incur the wrath of practically every uptight aristocrat in Britannian society. One does not simply call His Majesty Charles Zi Britannia, King of Britannia, Roi of Elysia, Rey of Ventrillia, Tsar of Valhalla, Kaiser of Mordia, Emperor of The Britannian Empire, Commander of all its armies and Protector of the realm and all its peoples a "Big Brutish Bastard".
"And Chane? How is my mother-in-law?" he inquired. Following the disastrous Blood Emblem Wars, he made it a point to know every single one of his family, blood or otherwise. It was only right if he wanted to prevent what Schneizel once called "the bloodiest family dinner argument in history".
"She's alright. Looking after the domestic assets. Making sure her people are alright. Fretting over her grandchildren. Et cetera." Claire said offhandedly as he helped himself to a glass of cognac.
"And the foreign assets?" asked the Emperor, taking another puff of his cigar as he sat down. He undid the ponytail he had tied up all day and visibly relaxed in his chair. By Durin and the ancestors, that felt good.
"Sig's easily punching above his weight. I'm surprised that we haven't sent it more support yet," said Claire, taking a small sip and crossing his legs.
"As is expected of him," nodded the ruler, pouring a glass of his own. "And on the matter of support, it's merely a matter of timing. Wait for our foothold there to grow before we put more weight. Otherwise, it crumbles and we fall."
"You're the boss, Charlie boy. Not me," shrugged Clarence.
"Thanks for reminding me of my seat of power," Charles deadpanned. "On another topic. How are my sons?"
"Which one? You've got five for God's sake."
"You know damn well who I'm talking about. Lelouch and Rolo! How do they fare, behind enemy lines?"
"Woah! Don't let the other kingdoms hear you say that!" said the older man. "Seriously though, they seem to be doing alright, at least according to Sig."
"According?" Charles asked with a raised eyebrow. "I would prefer knowledge that is more consistent in its reporting. After all, it is my understanding that the two shouldn't cross paths unless it's 'coincidental'."
"Well, if you want to remedy that," began Claire, setting down his glass. "What we can do is give some excuse for school training. You know, Monastery only things. That way, we can do a video call in the new embassy once it's been set up without the worry of Atlas tapping in."
"Are you sure you can't read minds?"
"Charlie dear boy, I am many things. A grandfather, a hitman deluxe, an urban legend, a lord in the service of your highness, spymaster, trapezist extraordinaire, gentleman thief, amateur magician and mentalist among many things. A psychic I am not. I'm merely good at reading people," Clarence plainly stated, getting up to refill his glass.
"You keep saying that," scoffed Charles. "Yet you seem to know everything our peers are about to say or do and then rile them up about it."
"I simply mastered my craft," shrugged Clarence. "It's their fault that they're too paperskinned handle me anyway."
"And you cry about why I say you're a bad influence on the children, especially Lelouch. He's inherited your biting wit and mentalist tendencies among other things."
"Yet you can't deny that he has benefitted from it," fired back Clarence. "Besides, I am but a small part in his development. In fact, I seem to recall that his ruthless efficiency and ferocity came from someone close to him. Someone, like perhaps, his father?"
"..." Charles broke eye contact and silently turned towards the window.
"You're not denying it," pointed out Clarence.
"Let's be diplomatic about this and say he inherited things from both sides of the family, good and bad."
"Fair enough," conceded the spymaster.
"Now enough about my fourth son. Tell me, have you any news on the empire's underbelly?"
-Beacon, Underground Firing Range-
The smell of gunpowder, wood, sand was one that Lelouch was well accustomed to. And to his delight, the place was nearly deserted! Perfect!
As he walked into the nigh silent facility, he passed by all the regular signs talking about safety and trigger discipline, decked out in his battle gear and lugging a small duffel bag.
'Treat every weapon like it's loaded. Never point your muzzle at another person. Finger off the trigger unless you intend to fire. Always keep weapons on safe when not in use. Always make sure weapons are empty. Account for all the rounds expended. No explosive barrages in the alleys. Always be courteous.' He read in his mind. Then he stopped in realisation.
Wait, where did that one come from?
Shaking himself free from the confusion, he scanned through the instructions laid out at the front desk. Nodding in satisfaction, he booked up five alleys' worth of space in the underground firing range and calibrated the targets, nabbing a pair of earmuffs on the way. No use losing his hearing early after all. Safety first.
He stood at the counter and activated the pre-practice test sequence, watching as steel plates with beowolves painted on them came up and down from "cover" of various kinds. Apparently, they were going to gradually upgrade to hardlight versions soon, maybe a week. Same for the auditorium's arena. The combat simulator that was promised would take longer though, he recalled. Roughly a month.
While he mused in recent developments, fingers flew across the keyboard. Environment: Woodlands. Density:7. Frequency: Random. Light setting: Moonless. His fingers paused at the last setting, contemplating his decision. Finally, he decided.
Difficulty: 10.
With a final keystroke, he confirmed his selection. The 250m long alleys plunged themselves into darkness, leaving him and his counter as the only source of light in a sea of black. Wooden board trees slid into existence from hidden compartments in the walls and ceiling and he could hear the little drones' wheels trundle along as they took position, ready to spring themselves. He calmed himself as a screen above him counted aloud from 30.
Slow your breathing. Feel your environment.
"25."
He drew Oath and with a pulse of aura and the press of a button, it shifted into its rifle form.
"20."
He drew a magazine from his bandolier and loaded the gun.
"15."
He cocked the weapon with practised ease and braced it against his shoulder.
"10."
He breathed deeply through his nose and made himself tranquil.
"5."
He let his faunus senses scan the environment, his eyes primed to spot movement as he aimed down the sights.
"0."
Watch and shoot.
-Dell, Atlesian Embassy, Ironwood's Office-
The mighty General James Ironwood, Commander of the Atlesian Armed Forces, Headmaster of Atlas Academy, really loved his coffee. So much so that he was ashamed of it.
Turning into Ozpin Jr, Qrow often jabbed. He would've refuted it, if it weren't glaringly true, especially as of late.
Bitter Atlas brew burned his tongue, jolting him awake like a zap of static as he tapped away at a keyboard for a holographic display. Summertime dawn had made itself known just over an hour ago, peeking through the window shutters and reminding him once more that he really needed some sleep.
Whoever said he hissed when they were drawn open for fresh air would be summarily tried for treason and shot.
He rubbed the bags from his eyes and focused back on the mountain of information he had to process. The last few weeks' events had thrown the councils' plans for a loop. Both Valian and Atlesian. The arrival of the Britannians was expected. But everything after definitely was not.
Firstly, reports from the Breach that Atlas Military Hardware had found its way into the hands of a radical Faunus rights organisation.
Secondly, the two break-ins at the CCT Tower during the dance. The one which had seen Summer's daughter intervene was enough already. But it grated his nerves that shortly afterward, another intruder had slipped past the defences. They still had no leads other than the black queen chess piece, which proved his worst fears correct. Qrow was right and their enemies hid among them. Currently, it was late April. The Vytal Festival was due to start near the end of summer. They only had that much time to find and apprehend the culprits. Was it doable? Yeah, if they had MORE LEADS.
Thirdly, rumours of a gang war brewing in the underbelly of Vale, powered by the vacuum left by Roman. Then there was the one about a new force of mercenaries under Torchwick's leadership. He hadn't heard much about them and he was hoping for a briefing soon. He had been far too busy with administration in Atlas to keep up.
Fourthly, the recent crash in the North Sea, caused by a grimm attack from what he had seen. Forensics were still underway. They recovered debris but no luck with the unlucky three yet, even if one of them was a terrorist. The press descended on him like vultures when the news broke out.
Fifthly. One of Vale's moguls (legally speaking, he knew full well that dog's actual business practices) had been admitted to hospital two days ago, with foul play being suspected.
Finally, the exhibition the Britannians were holding for the next two weeks. In hindsight, he should have foreseen the military flexing its guns (pun intended, he needed to humour himself somehow) when the grand cultural exhibition was being installed in Dell. Now, he had to pull his colleagues from the edge of their seats and keep their leashes tight, lest they do something rash. No one wanted a repeat of the cold war they had for the past few decades.
Fortunately, the more nationalistic voices (read: those with an "Atlas-First" approach) were widely disregarded and the public outlook had long cooled (again, intended) to a more moderate outlook. A general first, he was. A politician second. That didn't mean the latter was his weakness.
'Thank the Twins that people like Ocarthe are generally ignored,' he said to himself. 'The last thing we need is internal politics blocking progress.' He was really grateful that most people on the continent of Mantle had enough common sense to realise how outdated that thinking was. So far, advances in tech and industry have kept the people sated. But if the social situation didn't improve soon, class-fueled unrest would surely unfold. The bread and circuses effect of the Vytal Festival could only last for so long. He'd have to speak to his colleagues on the council for their input. A solution to uplift and recognize, as the prime minister put it, the pillar of Atlesian society was in dire need before it crumbled from the sheer weight of the Kingdom's issues. Maybe Robyn Hill had a point after all. That didn't mean he would stoop to her methods though.
He continued to muse as he read through yet another report from the local police, this time about another hate crime. Taking place in the industrial district in south Vale. 'A lot of those in that area recently,' he noted. He typed out a quick email to the lieutenant he was in correspondence with, outlining the need to issue a public safety announcement for the faunus population. Once done, he went back to his thoughts.
On another note, he pat himself on the back for mainly choosing teams whose members hailed from Mantle rather than Atlesian elites. The working people rejoiced at their representation through their champions. It did irk the upper crust how the, as he paraphrased it, "rabble" were rising up, but it's not like prominent Atlesians originated solely from the floating city. Some worked their way up from nothing in the classic rags to riches format. Like Marrow Amin and Elm Ederne. Two fine examples, as both citizens and huntsmen (and women).
Or as Neon Katt put it once, "they were hard on their grind". He didn't understand the current generation's vernacular but he found it fitting. On that topic, the girl and her team were something else. Most of his peers bristled at such displays of, as a vocal few put it, "usurpation of the kingdom's proud military and culture". 'Yeah right,' he snorted. The protests were clearly thinly veiled racism and classism. Views that were unfortunately endemic to most of Atlas. It did not help that some of the most influential people in the kingdom held such views, leading to some inflammatory incidents down in Mantle.
Let it be known that the Ace-Ops were meant to be a unifying force and that riot control was not their primary goal. He could only take comfort in the fact that there were no fatalities in such events thus far and that (to his knowledge) his forces were not the ones to escalate things. "I should look into that," he mumbled to himself. He made a quick reminder on his scroll and took note of the time.
He started working on this at ten o'clock last night. It was currently six in the morning. Were he any younger he would have balked. But at the moment he was too tired to care.
On that note, he looked at his screen, with its mass of information. The extended period of staring at display hurt his eyes, exacerbated by his sleep deprivation. And no way was he going to allow his semblance to drive him up the wall for something as simple as info gathering.
It was decided. He was going to sleep. With a final nod, he opened up a new document and set a timer for thirty minutes. "Just this and then I'll rest," he mumbled to himself. With a flurry of fingers, he typed out something that, frankly, he should have started on a week ago.
Team Profile: LRGS
-Beacon, Underground Firing Range-
Breathe in. Breathe Out.
*BLAM!*
Tinker.
Clear your mind.
*BLAM!*
Tailor.
Calm your heart.
*BLAM!*
Soldier.
Steady hands on the grip.
*BLAM!*
Sailor.
Not too tight.
*BLAM!*
Gentleman.
Like holding a dove.
*BLAM!*
Pauper.
Empty lungs.
*BLAM!*
Vagabond.
Eyes on target.
*BLAM!*
Thief.
And squeeze.
A bullet ripped through the air and sank itself into cold, dented steel. The "beowolf" tumbled back with the shot and its form fell back, gently flattening to the clatter of light sheet metal.
The bell of a timer trilled out and the marksman came up from his kneel, inhaling deeply and slowly while great lights built into the high ceiling turned on with loud *clunks*, flooding the room in white.
Lelouch unloaded the magazine from Oath's blocky-ricasso-turned-receiver and pulled back the pop-up charging handle, making sure the firearm was well and truly empty. After that, he whipped off the earmuffs and wiped his brow. Meanwhile, walls slowly descended from the firing range's ceiling, turning the wide space into five separate shooting lanes once more.
Satisfied, he released the handle and pressed a hidden button while pumping in some aura, making blades slide and extend into position, straightening his hilt from the right angle it had roughly two thirds down its length and letting the two quillons travel along the rails of the crossguard, coming to rest in their cruciform position. He'd find time to clean it later in the day.
Then he spotted a small installation off to the side, featuring a robotic arm and a clear vat (more of a tube really) of blue fluid.
Orrrrrrr, he could just try one of those nifty stations. Suzaku talked about how it helped to clean off most grime from his weapons. Just hand it off to the arm and leave your weapon for an hour. Only thing you needed to do afterwards was give it a good wipe to dry it off.
'Worth a shot,' Lelouch decided. He promptly scanned his scroll onto a nearby monitor and handed the now activated arm his sword. As it lowered it into the narrow but tall tube of cleaning oil, stopping just before the crossguard.
'The wonders of technology,' he mused silently to himself. He grabbed a bottle of water from a fridge nearby and sat down on a bench opposite. He pulled a small backpack, which was kept on the other end of the bench and pulled out his headphones, a textbook and a sandwich. Now, to wait. In the peace and quiet of an empty rifle range at five in the morning for his belongings to be cleaned. 'Huh. Kind of like a laundromat,' he realised.
He put some music on shuffle, unwrapped the sandwich and opened up the textbook. "Now where were we?"
-Kingdom of Vale, Location Unknown, White Fang Branch HQ-
"Which brings us to now," concluded Adam. He sat at his desk on a Tuesday morning and regarded the four figures of blue light before him, seated behind similar desks, bar one, and projected by a nifty little hologram device, of course appropriated from the SDC. The five leaders of the White Fang were currently in a meeting, called by their youngest member in Vale to discuss potential allies.
"So Adam," High Leader Sienna Khan spoke from her throne, "What's your take on this?"
"On one hand," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the feeling of four elders watching him, "It is our policy that we do not tolerate turncoats and deserters. Yet on the other, this "Midnight Fang" has proven themselves to be effective, if their claims to be behind that attack on the warehouses is to be believed."
"And their working with humans?" snorted Kurt Chalk, a towering gorilla faunus. He was dressed in a collared shirt with salt and pepper hair and Head of the fledgling Atlas branch.
"I am working with humans, Branch Head Chalk. And given the Alpinista's history with how they treat our kind, I think it is safe to say that we can find some common ground with this new group."
"That said, to work with these people, these apparently disillusioned former members, is a risk. You already gamble with the lives of our kin in Vale in this hairbrained scheme to jostle the world during the festival. Can you afford to do so again, especially with someone we know next to nothing about?" questioned Cleo Pansy, a white haired, serpentine citizen of Vacuo dressed in a sleeveless shirt and jeans.
"The head of their operations, this Zero character, gave his word when he gifted us with food."
"And we accept them so easily?! We are not starving mutts!"
"Young Cleo, please. Young Taurus here is well-intentioned when he called this meeting, radical his practices may be. Please, refrain from lashing out and tearing apart this call. We must remain united and cannot dismiss even the smallest bit of help, especially one from our kin. Am I clear?" croaked an old voice.
"I! I-I understand, Elder Wugui."
"Good. Now, Young Taurus, tell us, what will be your next course of action?" asked the eldest of the leaders, turning to face him. Genbu Wugui was a veteran faunus rights figure, reportedly having served as one of Menagerie's first protectors and settlers following the end of the Great War. At ninety years old, he was youthful for his age, known to be a gentle grandfatherly figure in the White Fang who preached peace over conflict, but was not afraid to fight if he needed to. He sat with a hunched back, a long neck and loose, wrinkly skin dotted with scales while his shoulder length hair fanned out in a neat, spiked ponytail down his back. He was dressed in a dark robe commonly seen in Mistral and had a gnarled wooden staff next to him. Yet he maintained a warrior's presence, his stocky build and calm demeanour drawing attention wherever he went.
Why he wasn't the head of the organisation no one knew.
"I believe that we have a chance for us to grow in power and recognition here in Vale. Lethal they may be, the Midnight Fang is effective at what they do. And if they continue to attack those that prevent us from our rightful place in this world, then why stop them?"
"Hm, I see," hummed the tortoise, eyes closed in pondering.
"Furthermore, they said that they're willing to parley with us, should we choose to accept it," mentioned Adam, holding up the scroll. "The message also detailed the supply of additional funds, supplies and equipment." He put the device down to grab the object next to it. A black, full faced ballistic mask of crystalline sheen.
"Shiny," remarked Kurt.
Ignoring the ape, Adam continued. "All in all, I think this is a great opportunity. If not to expand our reach, then at the very least a way to better arm and protect ourselves against our adversaries."
"You bring up a good point, Adam," said Sienna, who had been sitting quietly. "I think your idea has merit and that we should make contact with this group. And if they truly are former members, I suggest you let them go?"
"Are you sure, High Leader? All we know so far is that they might be a mercenary force. As in, easily swayed by money."
"We've also heard that their goals align with ours to some degree, even if that degree is by the proxy of a human criminal," pointed out Sienna. "Even then, this falls under Adam's territory. For him to consult the rest of us on the matter shows how much potential lays at our feet. On that note, thank you for alerting us to this, Adam."
"Yes, well done indeed, young Taurus," praised Wugui.
"You honour me," Adam replied with a light smile.
"Very well then, if no other comments, all in favour of establishing contact with the Midnight Fang, say aye."
"Aye!"
"The decision is unanimous," smirked Sienna. "Adam, make contact with the group and try to be diplomatic about it, Don't go rushing in head first like you usually do."
"I wasn't planning on it."
"And do try to secure some gear for the rest of us," she cheekily added with a wink. "If nothing else, this meeting is adjourned. Stay safe until the next." With that closing statement, the images of the four other leaders winked out of existence, leaving him in the silence of his tent. With a nod, he stood from his chair and walked out, stretching his legs. Taking a moment to breathe the forest air, he surveyed the camp. 'Soon, we will be much stronger.'
He opened the scroll and went to its messaging function, where a single message lay, ready to be answered. With a breath of finality, he typed out his response.
"When can we meet?"
-Beacon, Team LRGS Dorm-
A shower's spigot twisted shut with a squeak, the hand that turned it pushing open the door to let its user out of the tempered glass cell. They took a towel from a nearby rail and wiped off their hair, face, ears and other ears before moving down to the rest of the body. Once that was done, they slipped on a pair of briefs and padded across cold ceramic tiling till they reached the mirror. Wiping off the fog, Rolo picked up his toothbrush. His stomach growled as he brushed and he winced. He was very, very hungry.
'Hopefully the others are up and just as hungry,' he mused as he finished. He gargled some water in his mouth, spit and wiped off the rest. Shortly after, he stepped out, dressed in his uniform. "Hey, you guys want to grab breakfast."
"Hm?" asked Gino, looking away from his scroll. "Oh, yeah. Sure" He lifted his legs and rocked himself up to stand from his bed.
"I'd give that a 5," said Suzaku, closing a textbook.
"Oh, come on! That was at least a 7!"
"By your standards, maybe," said Lelouch as he entered the room. "Best I can do is a 4."
"You Lamperouges and your freakish flexibility," scoffed Gino as he shrugged on his jacket.
"Hey, whatever prevents us from being stiff old coots in our twilight years," said Rolo.
"Besides, it's not like you don't join us for the exercises. So really, pot meet kettle," continued Lelouch, setting down his things.
"Point to Lelouch," said Suzaku. "So, glorious leader," he began, standing and buttoning up his shirt, "what are our plans for today?"
"I was thinking that we could do a mission. Maybe one that lasts 2 days?" suggested Lelouch, kicking off his boots
"Sounds good. Anything we should know?" asked Suzaku, taking his uniform top from his bed.
"We'll work out the details later. Right now, I need to change," said Lelouch, stepping into the bathroom. "Do you guys mind waiting for me before we eat?"
"Sure. Just change up," spoke Rolo.
"Thanks." The team leader closed the door and locked it. Shortly after, the hiss of the shower could be heard.
"...Soooo, Suzaku," said the younger Lamperouge. "I'm a bit short on cash at the moment after Sunday. Do you think you could..?"
"No, I'm not spotting you again. It's your fault you can't handle how much you spent on your date."
"Fine." Rolo pouted and crossed his arms as Suzaku went back to his bed. Then he looked at his partner.
"Gino-"
"Nope."
"Aw, come on!"
-Atlesian Airship, Prisoner Cell-
Roman Torchwick, gangster extraordinaire of the Kingdom of Vale, secret son of the late assassin Jonathan Weoce and practitioner of the good ol' fashioned ultraviolence, sat quietly in his cell, reading through a neat little book an Atlesian officer had dropped off some time ago. The aura-cancelling belt that he wore hummed with energy, keeping the power of the unleashed human soul at bay.
Not that he minded really. His mind was occupied sifting through buried memories that only recently surfaced. About his dad reading to him when he was a kid, telling him of his homeland, his family and his mother. His godfather, watching over and raising him when his old man had some business to take care off. The two talking late at night about the happenings back at their "home" and biding their time while he listened quietly from upstairs. The belongings that daddy dearest willed to him, now taken care of by his godfather, who he hadn't spoken to in years, especially after he got mixed up in Muffet Malachite's business. He remembered the safe deposit box left to him in Vale's biggest bank, but unless he had a miracle, there was no way he would access it. Especially not after that asshole of his godfather disappeared and left him alone with nothing but his dad's savings, his wits and his home.
Stupid, bitch ass old fuck.
He exhaled deeply through his nose and leaned back. What next? A guy representing his new "bosses" shows up a week ago, says his trigger phrase and he gives the intel needed. He hated not knowing what was going on. Information was power, he once learnt, and he needed it. Badly.
The cell doors hissed open and a familiar face walked through. Lieutenant Bianca Hail stepped in robotically and closed the door behind her. "Roman Torchwick," she enunciated flatly. "You have ten minutes. In those ten minutes, you will watch this video briefing. Then, you will upload the knowledge needed into this email address. Any questions?"
He sat up straight and looked at the woman. "No."
"Very well then. Get to it, Macavity."
-Beacon Academy, Library-
Cinder quietly sat in a corner of the library, leafing through a thick and heavy tome, wrapped in a dark brown leather tome. On her desk was her work scroll, the tablet projecting up a holographic screen with a mass of text.
The Squire's Guide To Grimm: A Modern Bestiary. When she saw the various species at the exhibit, she just had to know more. It wouldn't do for her queen to ignore a full continent's worth of new Grimm for her to use. It did intrigue her though. Why hadn't Salem ever mentioned these species before when she was training under her? Cinder assumed that Salem simply paid them little mind or outright ignored them. After all, there were no relics in Britannia so why bother? That said, Cinder couldn't shake the feeling that there was another reason.
Oh well. It wasn't her place to decide. And she wasn't here to ponder why anyway. Her current goal was to learn. She hungrily scanned the pages of the book Lelouch, her current quarry, had recommended to her on Sunday as well as the notes he had passed onto her. As she said to her teammates (read: subordinates), any knowledge is good knowledge. She read to herself in a voice softer than a whisper.
"The Promethean. A crustacean-like Grimm named after the man who discovered it, Herman Prometheus.
Average height: 2 metres. Average weight: 450 kilograms.
Grimm Class: Epsilon. Approach with caution.
Though they usually dwell on the ocean floor, these Grimm are occasionally found in the tropical and coastal territories, especially in the western ocean between Britannia and Anima. Despite their heavyset appearance, they are adept swimmers and are known to target fishing and trawling vessels. Commonly operate in consortiums of up to a dozen.
Notable characteristics: Claws. The average promethean has a pair of large claws that act as an offensive and defensive extension of itself. Producing an average pressure of crushing force 30000 psi, Take caution when fighting them in an amphibious or water-logged environment. This is especially true due to-"
"Ah, Miss Fall. A good morning to you!" enthusiastically greeted Professor Port. The Grimm studies teacher carried a small stack of books in his hands and regarded her with a kind smile. She internally bristled at this overweight buffoon of a teacher, even if she was meant to be playing the demure student from abroad. He dare interrupt her!? Taking a deep breath, she looked up and flashed the most plastic smile she could.
"Good morning professor!" she chirped.
Ugh.
"I see you're taking an interest into grimmology! It warms my heart to see such passion!" he cheered.
"...Yes. Passion," she agreed with a twitching eye. By her lady, she swore she felt a molar crack.
"I'm glad, really. I'm glad," he happily said. "Tell me, how did you find Saturday's excursion. Did our neighbours' exhibits light your thirst for knowledge?"
"It did. Very much," she answered, laughing nervously. Come on, come on, take a hint!
"Ah! I loved it!" he gushed, setting the books down. "Such a rich and ornate culture! The martial heritage! And the new Grimm! Can't forget the Grimm! Oh, come the end of this school year, I think I'll go on a research trip there! In fact, I'm doing a small one soon! Say, aren't you and your team meant to do some missions?"
"We did a short one during the first week. We've been doing regular class assignments ever since," she smoothly lied.
"Well. While it's good to watch your grades, you won't get anywhere with your vocation without practical experience."
"I know, professor. I'm biding my time while one of my teammates chooses the mission. We like to take turns picking," she smoothly lied. 'Come on, give me something so I can escape this buffoon!'
As if the Brother Gods heard her plea, her scroll pinged with a new message. Excusing herself for a moment, she checked it and internally sighed in relief. "Sorry to cut our conversation short, Professor Port, but I just received word of a new mission. I'm afraid I need to meet them as soon as possible." She promptly stood and gathered her things. "Good day to you."
With that, she briskly walked out of the library.
"Such an odd girl," Port commented to himself. Then he looked down. "Oh! She forgot the book. Oh well." Shrugging, he picked it up and flipped to a random page. "Ooooh! Diomedans!"
-Team RWBY dorm-
"So, what are we doing for the rest of today?"
The four girls of Team RWBY were currently in their room, lounging about. Today was a slow day. With a new wave of missions, most students were absent from class so the sessions that Tuesday morning were lacklustre at best. Oobleck was out, Port was preparing for a mission and Goodwitch had the seniors to take care of. So they were left with Peach. And as bubbly as she was, the lacking audience pulled the class right down into snoozeville. Luckily, they had nothing else after lunch.
"We could go train?" suggested Yang.
"We trained yesterday," pointed out Ruby, reading an X-ray and Vav comic.
"How about we study?" asked Weiss.
"If you're a mental sadist, then by all means," snorted Blake. "I'd rather relax." She sprawled out on her bunk, openly reading her "novel".
"Ooh! What if we took a mission?"
"After our luck with the last one? Forget it," dismissed Weiss.
"But Weiss! That was a one time thing. Besides, we were actively going for the White Fang that time! This will be different. I'll pick a nice, relaxing place. Maybe one with white, sandy beaches."
"You know, that does sound good," admitted Blake, looking up from her book.
"Yeah! We could get our tans on in the meantime!" chimed in Yang. "You know what? I'm down!"
"So am I," said Blake, hopping off her bed. "A change in scenery would be nice."
"Don't I get a say in this!?"
"You do. But democracy says you're coming either way," pointed out Blake.
"Ugh. Fine! But Ruby, please. No missions to crackdown on a crime network."
"Don't worry about it! I'll choose something simple! Like research or culling or something. Either way, we shouldn't need to fight much."
-Team CMNE dorm-
"So Emerald," said Cinder, looking at the thief, "What mission did you get for us?"
"It should be a simple one, at least in its outline. We'll be out for four days of work, along with three days of rest. Main details of the mission include securing the place and culling the Grimm during the beach resort's off-season."
"Wait, a beach resort?" scowled Mercury, "I can't go there! My joints might rust up!"
"Just perform a little extra maintenance, Mercury. I'll buy you oil for your legs if that helps" Cinder offhandedly replied. "Anything else?"
"Nothing much. It's a straightforward cull and research mission along an archipelago. The only thing that stands out is the workload needing three teams along with a senior huntsman. Other than that, a simple objective with a nice, complimentary session of relaxation at the end, though I would not be surprised if we're made to do paperwork or something of the like during the three day rest period."
"Very well, then." Cinder walked over to a closet and lugged out a duffle bag. "Pack your things, get ready for the mission. With any luck, this will be a nice, little break for us before the show begins."
-Team LRGS dorm-
"Everything all set?" It was now a late afternoon and the boys were prepping their things and packing rucksacks.
"8 magazines of 5.56. Check."
"3 boxes of 7.62. Check."
"10 magazines of 9mm. Check."
"6 magazines of 5.56. Check. All ammunition, checked and loaded," said Gino. With a stretch, he got to his feet. "Finally! Anything else, Lelouch?"
"That's the last of it," confirmed the leader. "The mission isn't too rural, so camping will be light. Besides, we can hunt food on the island."
"Speaking of which, you haven't briefed us yet," pointed out Suzaku.
"And what about our engagements here?" added Rolo.
"I'll get to the briefing in a bit. As for our commitments, nothing for the next week in our schedule. Normal, relaxing life for us," grinned Lelouch.
"Relatively," coughed Gino.
"You're not wrong," shrugged Lelouch. He pulled out his purple scroll and activated an attachment, bringing up a small but detailed hologram of a string of islands, with lush trees, sandy beaches, lagoons and even a few mountains. "El Archipiélago del Mármol. The Archipelago of Marble. It'll be a four day, three night trip there if all goes well. We'll get there by bullhead and land at the largest island in the south, La Isla de Alabastro. Holds a seaside resort which is currently in the off-season. Reported to be having a shortage of security in a time amidst a surge in grimm. Main purpose is to cull populations, patrol defenses and aid Professor Port in his research."
"Wait, we're going with Port?"
"Yep."
"Nice. I like him."
"Yeah, he's a fun guy. If a bit long winded."
"He's just passionate," waved off Lelouch. "Anyway, we'll have two other student teams with us and will be staying in the resort's accommodation most of the time as thanks for the help. Otherwise, we may occasionally have to camp out on the other islands to help monitor the situation. Odds are we'll be using speedboats to get to each one. That or we walk across the parts shallow enough to wade through."
"Medical support?" asked Suzaku.
"They do have a doctor's clinic on site. Anything major will be diverted to the nearest hospital. The school will cover the bills if that ever happens."
"Resupply options?"
"There's a hunting lodge on the island itself that we can use to restock ammunition. Dust depot too, mainly for industrial use but we can appropriate some resources. There's also the security buildings that we can use as well. If all else fails, it's a one hour bullhead ride to the mainland. Boat travel is viable but maritime routes are currently undergoing culling as well. So until the sealane is secured, we can only take the air.
"Cool. When do we deploy?"
"Seven in the morning. Tomorrow. So remember to rest up. Reveille will be at five. Any other questions?"
"What the hell happened to the 'only two day' thing?" chortled Gino.
"All the ones that short were boring," Lelouch answered plainly. "Next."
"Yeah. Do we get to use the chutes?"
"...I'll see to it."
"Hell Yeah!"
-Vale General Hospital-
Winston had seen things in his career. Done some too. Things that would keep others up at night and turn the strongest of men into mice. Or at the very least, warrant several trips to the therapist. He'd already viewed some photographs that the police took of the scene, courtesy of their lawyer. Nasty work, that Zero fellow did. Effective too. Took some level of balls to carve a man's face like a leg of lamb, even more so to be as gruesome as Zero seemed to be in the process. Finn was not exaggerating about the sight. But, all in all, a classic intimidation tactic, one meant to shake the opposition's resolve or in some cases, rile them up into zealous, reckless anger. And he was not falling for it.
So it was with a calm expression, schooled by decades of seeing worse that he regarded the man in front of him. Verne Braithwaite, one of several lieutenants under the family's smuggling operations, lay on a hospital bed, his forehead wrapped like a mummy and a blinking device strapped to his ankle. It had been nearly a week since their warehouses had been hit by the MF raid and he had little progress in the search. Sure, he had a sample of the poison they used to hit Monty and Guido. But not much else. What was he supposed to tell his hit squads?
Find anyone with this chemical on them? No bloody way. He was a hitman, not a miracle worker. And he was not going to go around Remnant, hell not even the whole city, looking for farmers. Besides, Mistral was the place to go to if you wanted to look for poisons and it was too big for the strength of one family, even with all their connections, to comb fully without the trail going cold.
He needed a direct in with the MF. Finn had suggested outbuying Roman and it would've been a viable option. Except for three things.
One, these guys looked disciplined, more than enough to not turn their cloaks so easily.
Two, if he was correct about the origins of these particular mercs, then their motivation was not only monetary but personal as well. Illicit faunus dealings were one of the family's main sources of revenue. And if the MF truly were former White Fang? Their likely response could be guessed by even the most dense of meatheads.
And three, they already declared war on the family. Even if they did defect over, the Pioneers wouldn't accept them. No way in hell.
He scrawled his musings into his little notebook, one he made a good habit of keeping on his person 24/7. It was an even better habit to write it in code that few could decipher.
In the meantime, his guys were also scouring the underworld for their snow. Which was easier said than done. It wasn't exactly a rare drug in the market. They barely kept ahead through their quality. Snapping the book shut, he stuffed it back into his suit's inner pocket and thanked the kind nurse for her assistance. With a nod to her, he walked out of the room and soon after, exited the hospital. Spotting a cafe across the street, he went across, sat himself down and ordered a simple cappuccino with some pancakes. As he dug in, he went through his notebook again, looking for any way in with this mysterious group of mercenaries.
"Janus!"
The retired hitman looked up from his notebook and slid it aside as a man roughly in his thirties, with brown hair and blue eyes, came up to him, a pair of imposing suits in sunglasses behind him.
"Rocco! How have you been?" Janus stood and stepped over to give the man a hug. "Please, sit. Waitress! Three…"
"Lattes."
"...Lattes for these gentlemen. Thank you." As the waitress walked off, Janus turned to his boss's son, now seated opposite him. "So sorry to call you on such short notice, Rocky. Your family needs you home, as important as your work in Dell is."
"It's fine. Duty calls. Apologies for not getting here sooner. So, how is pappy?"
"Sick and poisoned. But recovering. He's getting the best treatment there is," sighed Winston. He held back a yawn from pulling an all-nighter in gathering intel.
"That's good to hear. How about the rest of the family?"
"In chaos. Some of the more upstart capos are eyeing power grabs already. I'm trying to hold them off as long as I can and keep the businesses running."
"Speaking of which, I heard about Mac and Verne. Any progress with them?"
"I visited Verne earlier. Nasty work, those MF guys did. They seem to have a few tricks up their sleeves. I'm planning to see Mac afterwards. You want to come along?"
"Sure," nodded Rocco. He took a sip of his drink and relished the taste. "That's some good coffee. Now, what are we doing to solve this problem?"
"Normally, we would be going after the head of the operation and hit the usual targets. Y'know, like taking his family hostage."
"Unfortunately, there are two things stopping us from doing that," noted Rocco.
"Right you are. One, Roman has nearly zero sentimental connections. Both Muffet Malachite and Junior Hei Xiong are strictly professional and neutral in this matter. The former he split away from a few years back. And if we target the other, our allies wouldn't be able to trust us. Not to mention that above all that, Roman is currently held by Atlas. So there's no way for us to get to him."
"Not even through his number 2? That Neapolitan girl?"
"Vanished without a trace after the Breach."
"On that topic, what do you think about the Britannians?" asked Rocco. "I got to see the exhibit along with councilman Rook. Fancy stuff."
"Well, with that treaty they signed in, I would wager that businesses will soon start pouring in."
"Then should we prepare to take advantage of that?"
"We should but we'll need the cooperation of the rest of the family. As well as your father's approval."
"Can't we just do it ourselves?" suggested Rocco. "Everyone knows that I'm poised to be the heir."
"You certainly can," affirmed Janus. "However, not everyone will like that. Some would point to that as proof that you're usurping your father."
"They dare?!" glowered Rocco, leaning forward.
"Cool yourself, Rocky. You must face it. Before you can make such decisions, you need to unite the family. Otherwise, it goes to shit."
"FIne," huffed Rocco. "In the meantime, could you help me get some more insights on the Brits?"
"I can spare a few guys to help you look into it. I'll also tap some of my friends in the sectors to help you out too."
"Much appreciated," acknowledged the Alpinista heir. "Now, what's this I hear about our Snow?"
-Beacon, Team LRGS dorm-
The time was nine o'clock, nighttime. While his three teammates got ready for an early sleep, Rolo sat on the carpeted floor of their dorm, his sleeves rolled up, a small tarpaulin mat in front of him where he carefully laid out his gear.
"Grenades. Check." He set down the gray baubles that usually hung around his thighs.
"Gas release mechanism," he muttered. He thumbed a button on the harness that went over his hand and felt his arm recoil from the jet of air that burst out of the rail system. "Check."
"Spool system." He flicked a little switch on his armaments and grabbed the wires that would run along his arms, pulling them to test the extension and retraction. Satisfied, he let them reel back into default position. "Check."
"Ain't it a bit late to be checking your gear?" asked Lelouch, having just stepped out of the shower.
"Well, as you say, you can never be too careful."
"Fine, fair enough. But worrying too much isn't healthy either. Trust me, I know," said Lelouch. Sitting opposite his younger brother, he continued. "You need a little more faith in yourself." He picked up one of his brother's daggers, currently in its folded-in position, looking like an oval with one side silver blade and the other a matte umber with dark blue stripes dashing along its grip, topped with a silver ring that looked like it could open up and split into two. "How are your Junglers holding up?"
"Fine enough," replied Rolo, tending to his shoulder pieces. He popped off the backplates and toyed with the flat drums of wire. With a frown and mutter to himself, he snagged a nearby oil bottle and applied some to the pair. Giving them a brief wipe with an old, oil-stained cloth, he moved them again and nodded in approval.
"Elaborate," prompted Lelouch.
"I think I won't. Pass me the other one will you?" Lelouch reached over and brought the other blade and made to pass it to his brother. But he tilted his wrist just before contact, making the younger Lamperouge click his tongue in annoyance. "Come on, stop playing." He moved forward to grab it but his brother pulled it back out of his reach.
"You're nervous," noted Lelouch. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing! Nothing's the matter! Now hand it over."
"Not until you speak to me," insisted Lelouch firmly. "Glare at me all you like but I am not sending you on a mission when you are not in the right mindset. So I'll ask again, what's wrong?"
"If you give the blade to me, I promise to tell."
"You sure?"
"Scout's honour."
"...Fine." Lelouch passed it back over to Rolo. "Now. Spill."
"It's our first mission overseas and I'm… scared," admitted Rolo.
"..."
"..."
"That's it?" asked Lelouch. "Durin's balls, I thought you were having relationship issues, not homesickness."
"What made you think that?"
"You went on a date on Sunday," spoke up Suzaku from his bed.
"You've been asking us for money," continued Gino, packing his bag.
"And you've been glum ever since dinner," finished Lelouch. "We thought something happened between you and the girl. What is her name? Noire?"
"The outing went fine!" defended Rolo, wiping the thick, fang-like blade. "I'm just short on cash! What do you think was bothering me?"
"One of the assumptions was that she was somehow blackmailing you," said Lelouch, pressing a button on the handle. He watched as the weirdly thick, curved blade split into four separate pieces that tilted and shifted while at the same time, bits of the hilt slid up and went over the pieces of the outer edge and a little finger guard on the inside curve extended out till it was as long as a finger was wide. The points retracted back till its diamond cross-section was a square, a small gun barrel poking through the four now-flat surfaces. All in the briefest of moments. "Mode-shift looks good."
He activated the reverse process and soon, it was once more a folded up blade. "Other than that we didn't really have a guess."
"Hmph! You're guessing sucks."
"In this case, yes. But back on topic, you're homesick, no?"
"Yes," answered Rolo begrudgingly, aiming down the iron sights of his knife-turned-handgun. He nodded and shifted it back to resting form, setting it down.
"Dude, don't worry about it! It's just a mission. Besides, it's not much different than the ones back home! Heck, you can still call our family as and when and we've got a good support system here. So why are you worrying?"
"I don't know," scowled Rolo, wiping his gear of the excess oil. "I guess it's just the new environment jitters, that's all."
"First time in a foreign place," nodded Lelouch empathetically, "I can see that. But that said, you needn't worry because you've got us! Just trust in your training to cover what you can and trust in us for what you can't. He picked up a paper towel nearby and wiped off the oil from his hands. "You need a bit more self-confidence, little brother. Your skills are fine, but your mind needs improvement."
"Easy for you to say, but-"
"I'm not done yet! You handled yourself so well during our two night outings! This is a walk in the park in comparison. Compare the two. Violent, intelligent mobsters or what are essentially wild animals hopped up on hate and steroids. Which is easier?"
"The latter, I suppose. But they have extra features!"
"Touché, I'll give you that. But my point stands." Lelouch stood and offered a hand to his brother, who reached out and let himself be pulled up. "What we're doing tomorrow, we've faced before! You just need to have that trust in yourself and your team, no matter where we are. Don't you see that?"
Rolo breathed deeply, letting his mind sort out everything. "I guess you're right."
"This isn't a matter of right or wrong, Rolo," pointed out Lelouch. "This is simply a matter of bravery in the face of new things. I need you to be brave. If not for me, then for Suzaku, Gino, mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, Nunna, Odd, Guin, Schnei, Nelly, Clo and Euphy. Can you do that?"
"...Yes!" said Rolo after some self-deliberation. "I'll do it! If only for everyone else."
"Good lad," Lelouch said with a warm smile, clapping his shoulder and shaking it. "You grow up so fast," he sobbed.
"Hey. Hey. Hey! Don't cry on me now!"
"Just kidding!"
"Asshole!" cried Rolo, smacking his laughing brother on the arm. With a dismissive chuckle, he ruffled Rolo's hair. "Come on, it's nearly time to sleep. Go and shower, you stink." Lelouch made a quick trip to the bathroom to wash his hands after he said that, leaving Rolo in the middle of the room. "By the way, I'll spot you for your date expenses just this once! And watch your ankles! Do't want them twisting up now!"
"Whatever you say, 'boss'," he jokingly replied. Crouching down, he was about to pack his things when he froze.
'Wait, shit. Did I fill up my dust?"
"All men are not created equal. That is why it is our duty, particularly my duty, my burden to bear that we all rise and prosper. Together as one, no matter our background or our circumstances of birth! My people, I swear to you! On my life and the lives of all those that came before me! I will not allow another calamity like the Blood Emblem to ever plague us again, for so long as I, Charles Zi Britannia, watch over this land, I will see it into a new springtime!"
"ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!"
-excerpt from 98th Emperor of Britannia, HRH Charles Zi Britannia's coronation speech
Student Profile:
Name:
Rolo Lamperouge
School:
Monastery College
-Ashford Academy (Britannian-Nihon Branch)
-La Citadelle Harakoni (Elysia/Main Branch)
Aliases:
-Little Kitten
-[REDACTED]
-Lil Asshole
-Rookie
-Brat
-Smug Ass Bitch
-LRGS' Cute little mascot
expand list...
Height: 1.70m
Weight: 62 kg
Species: Faunus (Clouded Leopard)
Traits: Brown hair, Purple eyes, Claws, Feline ears (round), Hypersupinative ankles
Status:
-Trainee Paladin (Squire, 1st Year)
-2nd Lieutenant (Upon Graduation
-[REDACTED]
-[REDACTED]
Semblance: Time Contraction
Weapons:
-Concrete Junglers (Pair of long-bladed karambit/pistol hybrids attached to gas-actuated Omni-Directional Manoeuvre System, mounted on arms, shoulders and upper torso)
-Lengths: 0.25m (Blade form), 0.18m (Handgun form), 10.00m (aura-filament cable, one per side)
-Dust Loadout (propulsion system): Wind, Gravity, Lightning
-Calibre: 9mm
Certifications:
-High School Diploma
-Squire's Bond
-Class 3 Driving
-Class 2 Driving
-Grade 6 Ballerino
-Level 8 Gymnast
-Fitness Gold
expand list...
Psychoanalysis:
Rolo is, without a doubt, the youngest brother of Team LRGS. Though the most junior, he is more than capable when the situation calls for it. Unfortunately, in foreign situations, he lacks confidence and is over-reliant on his teammates. A healthy practice but one that must not develop into a crutch. Much like his brother, the Nihonian Crisis had left its impressions on him, giving him a similar drive to his older brother, who he looks up to, to train harder to protect his loved ones and survive. However, his continued self-doubt, unfortunately caused by his brothers' shadows, try as he might to escape them,can cripple his decision making. Nevertheless, I see him trying to break past that barrier bit by bit every day. I foresee that one day, he will grow into a fine young man
Evaluated by,
Ruben K Ashford
Hope you liked this chapter! (no matter how short it was!) Once again, feel free to pen down ur thoughts and lmk in the reviews. I also need more votes on Gino's semblance so if y'all could help me with that it would be great :).
Till next time!
Backwardsaile