The Dreamer Gate Vol 2: Wartide

by Malignent

Vale has fallen to the forces of the Stormbringer, who's declaration of war has seeded conflict across Remnant. As the now-separated members of Team RWBY each walk their own path to recover from the wounds gained in Vale, they'll be drawn into the complex circle of conflict now coursing through the land. For no matter where they turn, the tides of war will reach every shore.

5. The Changing Tides

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of The Rings, the Middle-Earth universe, Shadow of War/Mordor or RWBY.

This work will contain moments of intense violence, dark and dirty humor, and MANY canonical divergences.

---

The Changing Tides

"And the Scroll chimes once... the scroll chimes twice... the scroll chimes-"

The ringing stopped as Krosh's sigh soon replaced it, "Ya gotta time calls better than that, Maku. I was just wrapping things up over here."

Sitting in a chair, Maku leaned back against a table while stabbing a fork into a piece of meat, "Aw, what's a matter?" he chuckled "How long ya gotta grill some dumb glob to hear he got his teeth kicked in?"

"I got more than that, dumbass." Maku could practically hear Krosh rolling his eyes "Its definitely Lady that's been roughing patrols up. I figured there'd only be one pissed off blonde running around here kicking the crap out of our guys demanding info on my asshole dad, but I was a little doubtful at first. What if it was just some civilian we missed? One of Atlas' lost folks? But now I got me some proper confirmation."

Chewing some sizzling meat, Maku whipped the fork out of his mouth and snickered, "So..?"

"I'm closing in, should be any day now."

Maku set down the fork for a moment before tilting his head to the side and leaned back, "Hey Krosh, mind alleviating a bit of confusion for me?" he asked, continuing without waiting for a response "I'm pretty sure both of your hands are still ruined beyond belief, so how exactly are you talking to me right now? I had this whole mental image of you scrambling for ya scroll that your quick reaction time ain't exactly allowing."

"Ha! Knew that call was too perfectly timed to be accident." Krosh laughed "But jokes on you, I got me a scroll guy to hold it up for me. Yeah, he's looking at me with this pissed expression right now that I'm talking so dismissively about him. Ah, he knows even with my hands all fucked that I could probably beat him into the ground with my shins. Oh its funny to a downright despicable degree."

Maku snickered along with him, only for the sounds of footsteps to make him look over to find a pair of eyes staring at him. Standing right beside his seat was Mincemeat, eyes darting from him to his scroll. The two held up the staring contest before Krosh spoke up again.

"Going silent?" he asked with a scoff "You're the one who called me, ya bastard."

"Your armless freak is staring at me." Maku stated

"Oh she does that when she's worried about me, tell her I'm fine and she can stop with the worrying."

As he spoke, Mincemeat drew closer. Maku had to actively hold her back with agitation, "Oi, he says he's good so stop being a glob and- get off!" he shoved her back before glaring at his scroll "Why the shrahk aren't you taking her with you, anyway? Ain't she like, your hunting dog or something?"

"Not for this hunt, pal. Gotta see if Lady's still worth something." Krosh stated "Sides, if I bring her out here all the Palebloods'll be pawing at her wherever we go."

That made Maku groan as he turned back to his meal, "Don't even remind me. I know the Master was all about speeding up their training through bloodsports, but there's so much more manpower we could be using 'em for. Instead Ratlug's practically got Skeleton crews running everything while he focuses on all those projects of his."

"Don't know what you expected from my Dad," Krosh mused "He's literally always been a self-obsessed asshole. The moment the Shaman took leave he had to know what Ratlug would start getting up to. Hell, everyone probably knew, its kinda cyclical with them now."

"Well I signed up to fight under the goddamn Shaman, Krosh. Not some crazed tinkerer." Maku said in a hushed tone "I don't know why he lets Ratlug get away with half of the shrahk he does! We've got a war to win over here and he's messing about with human testing and that damned Patchwork Project of his. All of this we should save for after we've gotten the Tarks under our heels."

"Oh... so you know about the Patchwork Project." Krosh's voice sounded slightly strained "How much?"

"I've seen the damned thing wandering around, Krosh. Its not exactly a secret to anyone here at Beacon." Maku stated "What's got everyone wondering is why the shrahk would he do something like-!"

"Let's not talk about it, okay?" Krosh asked "I hear enough about him and his crap daily, most of which is stuff I have to deal with. Like the slave he went and stole from me, all that crap over the Industrial sector, not to mention-"

"Heh," Maku grinned "thinking about pulling a Naruk?"

"Don't even joke about that until after we take back the Water Treatment Plant, the boys have been complaining about it all week." Krosh sighed "Not gonna lie, Maku. Throwing down with Lady's gonna be a hell of a lot more fun than dealing with that particular mess. And trust me, we'll be the ones who have to clean it up."

Maku grinned whilst eating another piece of meat and using his foot to drive Mincemeat back again, "Actually, I won't."

"Pfft, Mak my guy, I know we all poke fun at him but he's not gonna make it simple. We've gotta organize a team and-"

"I got put on a mission recently, so I'll be gone for a while." Maku said casually before finishing his meal "Actually getting prepped to go right now. I literally won't be here to have to deal with whatever Naruk's got cooking up over there."

He heard the sigh first, but eventually Krosh continued with "Okay, you've got my interest."

Pausing for dramatic effect, Maku hit him quick with an overly simplified "Ya Dad made an Olog."

"He did what?!"

Maku drank in Krosh's surprise for a moment with no small amount of amusement, "Yeah, and I get to supervise his first outing!"

"He's on a mission al- What?!" he sounded stupefied "Maku if you are screwing with me I swear-"

"No lie, swear on the Shaman." Maku even held a hand over his heart, just for kicks.

"How the hell did he keep something like that under wraps?" Krosh asked "I mean, I know that we've been keeping kinda busy lately. The trains, the Naruk problem, watching over the Palebloods and now Lady's rampage but-"

"Don't get too excited, we haven't sent him out yet because Ratlug ain't exactly sure if the mixture for his spawn pool was right." Maku checked his nails before pushing away from the table "We go out, have a bit of a tumble, see how he does. I got me one of them Captains backing me up, so even if the big lug does go wild or something we can handle-"

"Uh... Sir?" a Soldier stood at the doorway, eyeing Mincemeat before glancing up to Maku, "Its time."

"And that's my cue." Maku said while ending the call and pocketing the scroll.

Making his way through the halls of Beacon, Maku took a deep breath. This would be a mission that only he had sole seniority in, not Krosh, not Ogthrak... not even Ratlug would have direct control out in the field once they set off. Chances like this he indulged in greatly, needed to remind the rank and file fodder that he was a Warmonger as well. But though he was already psyching himself up, an extra pair of footsteps behind him made him glance back.

In addition to the soldier who had informed him of the time, Mincemeat was also trailing after him glaring the entire way.

"Aw, still want me to tell ya 'bout ya bro?" he asked before matching her glare with one of his own "Lucky lil' monster, not many non-Uruks get to walk among our ranks without getting ripped apart or beaten."

He turned his attention to the Storm Soldier, "How about it, lad? She ain't got no arms... why not take her legs too?"

"Might work on Grunts, sir." the Soldier coughed "But I been around long enough to know Krosh don't keep no weaklings."

"Ha!" Maku turned back to her "Not even Uruks wanna mess with ya! Don't rightly blame them, walking around like ya fallin' apart like that. Ya think Kroshie's lookin' to replace ya with somethin' a lil more... aesthetic?"

"No..." Mincemeat growled out, the bear trap affixed to her head clanking with every movement of her jaw "Wouldn't..."

"Oho, so ya didn't like that one, eh?" Maku folded his arms as they arrived.

The Lecture hall's bookshelves had been removed, stains and scorch marks occasionally marked the room. The board at the front of the room had been removed, making room for the massive Dreamer Gate that stretched up a ways. An entire chunk of wall had been destroyed, a massive hole in its place that stood several yards tall. Standing beside what was once the window was none other than Belfor, his oversized fingers twitching as they stepped inside. He looked back to them as the Soldier took a spot beside the door.

"Belfor the Flawed, congratulations!" Maku gave him a small applause as he approached "A real mission, you must be even more excited than I am! But it makes sense, right? Just in case Forn turns out to be defective, why not have the other defect take care of him? Wouldn't want to waste proper soldiers on it, eh?"

Belfor's regular eye narrowed, but he merely nodded as he turned to look down at the Warmonger, "Its an opportunity I don't intend to waste, sir."

Maku looked him over, "Wouldn't expect such respect from a mistake, plenty of lads get too thick-headed after a promotion." he turned away "So... you get a look at him yet?"

"No."

"Really?" Maku stepped to his side as he heard a thumping sound approaching "I heard you gave him the-"

"I gave it to his handlers, considering how big he's supposed to be I thought it'd fit." Belfor stated

Maku clapped his hands together before rubbing them, "Oh then I'd get ready if I were you, everyone remembers seein' their first big lad."

Belfor narrowed his eye at him as the thumping got louder, they both turned towards the massive hole as a large shadow fell over it.

Mincemeat took several steps back to the doorway as a large figure soon filled up the gaping hole in the wall, the Guard behind her folding his arms with a small chuckle.

A hand about the size of a chair reached up to grab the top of the hole and pull an absolutely immense figure into it, easily twice Belfor's height. Lugging what looked like a column of metal behind it, the mountainous form of the Olog kneeled down before them to more easily slip inside the hole, though his head still ended up crashing through the top of the it. He cared little, moving to bow his immense head to Maku and Belfor.

"Forn-Thaz the Firstborn... ready for combat." he drawled out, eyes drooping for a bit before they snapped open and he gave a wide smile.

Belfor squinted his normal eye at the immense figure, taking in details. His limbs were quite literally the size of tree trunks, speaking nothing of the fact that his torso was more comparable to the front of a flat-faced truck. And on top of it all was the barrel-sized head, but it was bent in odd ways. His eyelids looked stretched, as if he had difficulty blinking. Not to mention his gaze looked glassy, as if he were struggling just to stay awake.

Leaning closer to Maku, Belfor pulled him aside as Forn pulled himself the rest of the way into the lecture hall

"Maku... is he Flawed?" Belfor demanded, only for Maku to wave him off.

"The Shrahk did you think we were going with him for?" the Warmonger rolled his eyes "His pit wasn't classified as completed, but the fact we got something like him out of it without the Shaman's help is downright fantastic. If his defects don't impede him too much, we could start yanking globs like him out en masse and speed up the next assault!"

Belfor glanced cautiously at Forn, who used two hands to drag that metal column in. It wasn't a column at all, instead it was a giant metallic hammer with a large chain hanging off of it that he hefted over his shoulder, stumbling a bit from its weight before grounding himself with sloppy laughter. Mincemeat hesitantly slid out of his way as he moved, hopping amidst the desks to watch from a safe distance.

"Tiny... armless thing moves quickly." he chuckled before looking to Maku and Belfor "Where is killing? Was told I... get to the killing."

Belfor gave a narrowed glance at Maku before pulling away and approaching Forn, "Captain Belfor," he introduced himself as he drew near "You may have heard that I'm the one who got you your weapon."

"Oh?" Forn clumsily kneeled down as his gaze snapped towards Belfor's hands "Grabbers bigger than mine... not see that before."

Belfor's normal eye glared for a moment before he sighed, "Yes... I suppose you could say that they're a result of an oddity with my spawn pit."

Forn's eyes found his as he gave a lopsided grin, "Just... like me!"

"Yes yes, you can bond over your deficiencies later." Maku waved them off as he activated the large Dreamer Gate "In... come on you freaks, you. Into the portal."

"Ah!" Forn chuckled as he lumbered into it "The Killing... we doing the killing!"

Belfor sighed as he followed behind, but Maku didn't enter immediately after him. Instead, he turned back to Mincemeat and coughed into his hand.

"Oh, you should probably try not to get wedged anywhere, Mince." he offered with a casual shrug "Wouldn't want your freakshow of a family getting anymore laughable than it already is."

Mince growled, but the Warmonger had already entered the Gate by that point. Shaking her head, Mincemeat turned towards the door only to immediately leap back in shock. The guard was confused by her reaction until he glanced to the side and noticed a figure floating in the doorframe, framed by an odd glow. Palms outstretched, the figure hovered in the doorway, its head still as it looked around the room. Soon its gaze paused as it spotted the Dreamer Gate.

"Wowee, that's one of those Dreamer Gates?" the excessively chipper tone of the floating figure noted as the gate closed "I never got to see one in action until now!"

Though it clenched its fingers at its sides in excitement, its head jolted a bit as it turned its attention to Mincemeat with its hands trembling, "Hey there, Sis! Was hearing from Pops that you need to get your metal mouth thingie checked out! But they just couldn't find you!"

Both the Guard and Mincemeat were carefully stepping away from the floating figure, but soon it began drawing closer to the arm-less slave with no small amount of enthusiasm.

"I just couldn't bare the thought of you wasting away without supervision!" the figure declared "So I had to help! Come on, I'll keep close by rubbing you down with comfort during the entire checkup!"

Mincemeat groaned "No, Patchwork-!"

Her words were cutoff as the figure snapped forward and yanked Mincemeat close in a tight hug as it sailed floated away from the ground once more, "Come on! We'll take a shortcut!"

Not a second later the figure flew through what was left of the lecture hall's outer wall, tearing a hole through it as it sped across the campus with Mincemeat in tow.

Approaching the hole, the Guard grimaced at the sound of chipper laughter fading in the distance. Shaking his head, he pulled out a flask while turning and making his way back to his original post.

"Fuckin' Freakshow Family."

---

On Open Waters

"Those damned useless bastards!"

Uthug was practically squeezing his head at the sight of the Arceus as their comparatively smaller ship drew close to it, "Dear sweet shrahk, they got cuts and dents everywhere! Are those teeth marks?! What the hell did they do to-!?"

"Relax," Gundza ordered as their ship came to a stop beside the Arceus "It doesn't look like anything that could sink it, a little buffering and reinforcement will have it good as new by next week."

Uthug glared at him, "It better, I went through a lot of trouble helping snag this damn thing, so excuse me for not wanting all my work sinking to the bottom of the sea!"

Gundza rolled his eyes as ropes were thrown down to them.

He wasn't exactly sure why Uthug was acting so shocked, they'd been forewarned that the main fleet had been involved in a hefty battle for some time now. As long as the Arceus was still floating, Gundza found himself focusing more on the fact that one of their most hated hazards in the area had been slain in the process. Gundza had been furious when he'd heard that Bubol led the fleet after the Solarian in spite of the Sea Serpent's presence, as the thing had the strength and enough smaller Grimm following it to be a significant danger to even their main assembly of ships.

While he'd heard that they lost several ships, the foothold they'd managed to gain was undeniable. It was like coming home to find a gift readied for his arrival, with how fickle Bubol could be and how blinded by warmongering Kruk was, he was almost certain they would've trashed the entire fleet amidst such a batt;e. That weaselly archer had gone directly against his requests for that incursion, putting a good chunk of their work in jeopardy. Yet here they were, riding up to the decks of their ship after having their greatest sea-bound rival dealt with.

Although, the grim look on Kruk's face once they reached the deck said otherwise.

He immediately began marching towards them, lurching slightly due to the lop-sided weight of his Flame-O-War. Made with the same base functionality of his old flame-spitter, the Flame-O-War was essentially a flamethrower in the form of a gauntlet which covered his entire arm and shoulder. Able to spew flames and causing short-termed smoke-screens by ejecting fumes which build up in it over time, the weapon was useful in many cases. The downside was that it was terrible for literally anything else.

Kruk couldn't use tools due to the claw-like design of the gauntlet, so worked purely with his left hand when wearing it. Only problem, Kruk was entirely right-handed, and was too damned proud of his new implement of war to remove it seventy percent of the time.

"Still have not found Bubol." Kruk declared as he came to a stop before them "I been working on-"

"The shrahk is with this?!" Uthug called out as he ran over and kneeled beside a large streak on the deck "Oi, how deep does this go!? You better not be wasting all that damn work I'm doin'!"

"Not deep enough to sink," Kruk stated before nodding back to the bridge "really must plan next move, Warborn. Cannot waste time on-"

Gundza placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head once Kruk looked down at him, "Give him about half an hour, this needs to run its course if ya want him to be useful." he stated before turning and making for the Bridge, "In the meantime, you can fill me in on what exactly happened."

Though Kruk frowned, he nodded before following after Gundza, giving only a brief glance back to Uthug.

It was odd for him to care so much, given how much he had to deal with on this ship. Uthug remembered every fight, every annoyance, every single second of struggling he had to put up with when he was a prisoner aboard the Arceus. Back then, he would've gladly watched the entire thing sink to the bottom of the ocean as long as he wasn't on board when it happened. But now that it was theirs, things couldn't be more different.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that his hoard of loot was stored on board, or maybe it was because of the efforts he went through. Either way, he couldn't think of anything more infuriating than this giant tub sinking. When he wasn't looking over his loot or getting nagged around by Gundza, he'd often spend his time demanding the Uruks who kept the thing running do their jobs better. He didn't know anything about fixing ships, but damn it if he wasn't going to give any lazy glob a hard time for letting the Arceus go unmaintained.

Of course, this led to even more problems as plenty of the Black Tide Pirates took his demands as orders.

"We'll be buffing out those Mangler teeth marks quick as can be, boss!" one of the Uruks declared only for Uthug to yank him over with a growl.

"I ain't nobody's boss, ya dumb glob! Get it right!" he shouted whilst shaking him

"Y-Yes sir!" the Uruk tried saying only to be shoved back

"Ain't nobody's Sir either!" Uthug fumed as he pointed to him and several other Uruks behind him "Get it through your heads and get this vessel fixed already!"

As they rushed to get to work, Uthug grumbled as he searched for more damages that should be getting fixed.

"Well well, only a couple seconds back on board and ya already throwin' ya weight around, huh?"

Uthug glanced over to see Shaggot approaching, eyes immediately narrowing, "What do ya want, Blood-Storm?"

Shaggot raised his hands defensively, "Hold up there, no need to give labels like that. Captain Ishga's still alive and kickin' somewhere and I would never aim to go takin a title from a lad like him. I'm just tryin' to see how the big bad Black-Coth's lookin' after enjoying some time ditching us."

"I didn't ditch a thing, ya glob." Uthug grumbled before looking away "Didn't know you bastards were gonna go swinging at the serpent, guess that was Bubol's idea."

Shaggot nodded with a smirk, "Wouldn't believe how many of the boys we had to drag back in the midst of that shrahk-heap."

The Blood-Storm were merely a fraction of the Uruks the Black Tide Pirates had been able to recruit since the Storm took Vale. Survivors of the incident that occurred in Vacuo were a staple by that point, but the Blood-Storm came whilst retaining their former allegiances. Still decked in the red markings they had whilst serving their warchief, they stood out amongst the rest of the pirates. It wasn't just appearance, either, the Blood-Storm didn't fight like the rest of them either.

Namely, they were the ones who dragged idiots back after they get smacked down.

It was shockingly useful, so much so that Uthug was surprised they hadn't had dedicated glob grabbers before the Blood-Storm showed up. Somehow the simple act of keeping lads from bleeding out during fights and getting the away from the battle got everyone considering them a group of medical experts, even though barely any of them knew anything more about closing wounds than through haphazard cauterizing and patchwork. Apparently such knowledge was something they picked up purely to get Ishga to stop bothering them about it, with many of them having never had to use it much during their entire lives.

And yet now they were viewed as the ones to go to when the Aura finally breaks.

That misconception might have been agitating, but Uthug actually found them less aggravating than most of the Pirates he had to work with. Namely because they didn't seem to be all strung up on the whole hierarchy of power thing. They followed orders, but never gave Uthug any of that 'Boss' or 'Sir' business. That was a rarity nowadays that Uthug was more than willing to enjoy.

"So, ya want the long version of how things went or the short one?" Shaggot asked as he folded his arms

"I hate wastin' time, what do you think?" Uthug asked

Shaggot shrugged before raising a hand and listing it off, "Found the weapon shipment, chased the shipment, Bunch o' hunstmen showed up, stalled long enough for the Serpent to show up, killed serpent, lost most of the shipment."

"Nearly lost the damn ship for what?" Uthug bit "Couple crates o guns? Ugh, at least we don't have to worry about the Serpent anymore. Thought we'd have to start lookin' for easier pickings in the south, but now we can get to really lootin' around here. Glad to see ya didn't completely flub it."

"Hey now," Shaggot frowned "we didn't just lose most of the shipment... Heheh, we lost Bubol too!"

As Shaggot snickered to himself, Uthug rolled his eyes, "Oh please, that sick bastard's so annoyingly resilient that I'm nearly positive he'll be swimming over here any day now. He'll probably ride a damn crate full of guns right onto the deck with that stupid cut up grin of his. So who cares? Let's just get back to the lootin' already."

Shaggot stepped around him before nodding towards the bridge of the Arceus, "Might wanna tell that to Kruk, he's had ships out lookin' for him since we lost him."

"He what?!" Uthug wheeled on him before turning his glare towards the Bridge.

Aboard that very Bridge, Kruk paced as Gundza looked over a map of the waters between Anima and Sanus. As Kruk gave him a step by step breakdown of what occurred during the battle with the Solarian, two non-Uruk eyes watched them from the rear of the Arceus' control center.

"Okay... we've got this," a man said before turning towards a woman who was chained to the captain's seat, "Gundza's going to be giving him suggestions, so maybe if I speak up then we-"

"Rhine," the woman grunted as she looked up and lifted her leg, which ended up in a stump peg leg that was also chained to the chair "they took... my goddamn leg. Why are you still trying to befriend these things?"

"You tried to run Tansen!" he said whilst kneeling beside her "I told you your plan wouldn't work, and it didn't! Why aren't you helping me try to build some fuckin' good will over here?!"

This argument was mostly ignored by Gundza, who had learned to tune out those particular captives for most of the time. The former staff of the Arceus were invaluable when issues with the ship came up, but they were mostly ignorable in other scenarios. So instead, he closed his eyes as Kruk turned back to him.

"Some ships searching for Bubol," he stated "retrieve fellow warbringer eventually... Dead or Alive"

"Oh there's no need to get bent out of shape over it." Gundza sighed "If he was that easy to kill, he would've been ages ago. For now we need to focus on the distribution of the weapons you managed to snag."

"Oh!" Rhine spoke up "Maybe you could do the same for the guys you have looking him? I mean, if those guys are gonna be primarily searching instead of raiding then they can-"

"Shut up, Tark." Gundza glanced to him "For your own good."

"Right... right..." Rhine pointed to him with finger-guns as he settled down beside an increasingly irate Tansen, whose glare eventually rew his attention again, "What?"

"Do you have any idea how many people have probably died because of this ship?" she asked with a tilt of her head "The ship that they're only able to maintain because of our knowledge? You need to man up, Soldier... I can't take myself out while strapped into this damn thing, it needs to be quick and chewing through a tongue while they've got people nearby is too risky."

"Woah, woah Tansen, seriously!" Rhine held a hand out towards her "I'm telling you, we can survive if we just build some repertoire. We don't have to die, we can make it here! Just like Mitch."

"Mitch is literally mentally unstable." Gundza interrupted him before strolling over with his hands behind his back "On top of that, he's taught us plenty about the vehicles the tarks of this world utilize."

As if to prove a point, he reached over to a console and flicked several buttons to get a feed from the Arceus' security cameras. After cycling through a few of them, he stopped on an image of the Caterers' old dining hall hang out, which had recently been converted into an extension of the kitchen. All around, there were Pirates hauling large bags of meat, with several setting blaze to rotating sticks of meat in the background. But Gundza wasn't gesturing to them, he instead pointed towards the foreground where Mitch was performing motorcycle stunts for a crowd of Uruks. Gundza still wasn't sure just how powerful his control over vehicles was, but Mitch was performing wheelie spins in a perfect circle without either of his hands on the handles. Instead, he was standing in the seat, gesturing for the chanting crowd to cheer him on harder. As if the laws of inertia and gravity meant nothing to him as long as he was utilizing a vehicle.

"Usually I'd disapprove of him distracting the boys from their jobs, but anything to get them interested in vehicles is good." Gundza turned off the feed "Once we start acquiring more land vehicles, he'll be invaluable in getting the boys learning about them on top of boats. Unlike either of you, the deranged, simple-minded source of information is a safe bet."

"See?" Tansen shouted as Rhine's expression fell "Even he's telling you point blank that this isn't going to work! Attempting to befriend a bunch of literal monsters is doing nothing good for anyone but them!"

Rhine looked to her with doubt before frowning and looking back to Gundza, "So what you're saying is, I need to teach you guys more stuff than he can, right?"

Tansen audibly groaned as Gundza rolled his eyes, but any further discussion on the topic was interrupted by Uthug literally throwing the door open and marching in with anger already spilling from his lips.

"Why the hell are you wasting ships on finding that diseased shrahk?!" he demanded while pointing to Kruk accusingly.

"Hmph, I'm not sure why you're so agitated by it." Gundza stood tall as he folded his arms behind his back and approached the nearby window "With the serpent dead, a handful of missing ships shouldn't take away from the heightened range of pillaging we're now able to get away with."

"A few missing ships still means less loot." Uthug stated before grunting "And what about you, eh?! Thought you were trained to be some kinda hyper efficient assassin or some shrahk. Just cause ya more focused on hybrid butcherin' nowadays don't mean that experience o' yours is gone."

"And that very experience is what allows me to account for Bubol's antics." Gundza stated before gesturing to the map "If anything we should be more focused on finding as much of the Solarian's wreckage as possible, see how much can still be salvaged. Isn't that more your style, scavenger?"

Uthug stepped forward, "Are you changing the subject on purpose?"

Kruk raised his gauntlet to get their attention, "No place for arguing, save for true warring. Now, opportunity has come. The Warborn may offer assistance with leadership in Bubol's place-"

"What?!" Uthug gestured towards the deck below "Plenty of those lugs already think I'm some kinda leader or somethin'. Why the shrahk would I make that worst for me?!"

"Your power is not that of mere grunts, Black-Cloth." Kruk turned on Uthug and approached him "Denying the status of said power only confuses our warriors."

"Oh I'm all for the Status," Uthug nodded as he stood tall in the face of Kruk's approach "Having globs do what I say without them making a fuss is like fine grog to the senses. Its when they start expecting me to lead them that I get all agitated."

Kruk narrowed his eyes, "The Fires of War course through your blood, Warborn." he clenched a hand into a fist "To deny such a fact for a matter so trivial-"

"I ain't no leader!" Uthug restated

"Oh and how many Captains are, truly?" Gundza snickered "Weren't you following Ashgarn before this whole mess got started? Qualifications aren't exactly strict for the position of leadership among Uruks. The whole point is giving the grunts something to aspire to. Whether that be a Captain's strength, their intelligence, their tactics-"

"How easy it is to kill 'em?" Uthug asked as he folded his arms "Because that's the only thing about Captains that stands out to me. The moment ya get a fancy title every Uruk and his twelve blood-brothers have it in for ya. I got enough problems without more shrahk soldiers tryin' to kill me."

Gundza couldn't help but laugh at that, "Oh it is far too late for that, grub. Its less about title and more about capability that attracts danger." he explained "If you think not naming yourself a Captain will keep you safe from backstabbers, well I've got some bad news."

Though Uthug's snarl deepened, Kruk placed a hand on his shoulder, "Balanced war effort requires multiple sources of flame." Kruk gestured with his claw towards himself "Gundza, Bubol and I kept each other in check, brainstorm better with three. Cover weakness and fan the flame so that it may flourish."

Uthug narrowed his eyes as Kruk spoke, only for his gaze to drift over to Gundza before he stepped back, "Find someone else ya burnt lug, all the Pirates on this damn thing and ya can't find one to replace to replace that gyrating lunatic?"

Kruk audibly ground his teeth together as he watched Uthug turn and make for the door, "Not what I was-"

"I'll ignore this whole wasting time on Bubol thing as long as it don't impact our keep." he stated as he took his leave "I'll be taking stock of my loot, call me when the next raid comes up."

Though Kruk reached out for him, Uthug was already gone. Clenching his gauntlet into a fist, Kruk turned away with a grunt.

"Not sure what you expected," Gundza offered as he looked over some nearby controls with passive interest "I've already told you how he is. He's gotten used to making things difficult for himself because he expects things to be difficult for him. Quite an astounding cycle of annoyance he's gotten himself stuck in, but as long as he keeps getting deadlier then it shouldn't be a problem. Now, back on topic?"

Kruk didn't respond immediately, looking down at the floor for a moment before asking, "Blood-Storm... maybe, one of them join us for planning?"

"Do you have such little faith in us being able to run this on our own that you have to just snatch up a third cohort from anywhere?" Gundza questioned him, only for Kruk to shake his head.

"Was considering before Bubol left," he stated "Would've lost many more warriors if not for their aid."

"Even so, no. They're only here temporarily." Gundza pulled out one of his long knives and looked it over "No matter how helpful they are, you should be aware that those boys will ditch us the moment they get back in contact with their captains. If anything we should be focusing on having our own guys learning a thing or two so that we won't be in trouble once they do leave. Becoming dependent on any one presence isn't exactly beneficial in the long run, which is why you shouldn't be letting Bubol's disappearance get you all bent out of shape."

Though Kruk nodded to his words, Gundza could see the dissapointment in his expression, "Kruk, this can't just be about him getting swept away. I know you and him are old pals and everything, but surely you aren't letting concern for someone like him get in the way of furthering the war effort, eh?"

Kruk shook his head before stepping away and looking out the window, "No...not concern driving search... annoyance."

"Oho? Maybe you should've brought it up more with Uthug, then." Gundza suggested as he leaned against a set of displays "He loves any opportunity to piss and moan about stuff."

"The girl... it was the girl." Kruk stated.

Gundza raised an eyebrow, "What girl-? Wait..." he paused and smirked "No... she was on board the Solarian? His... precious Rose?"

Kruk grabbed at the side of his head with his free hand, "Moment he saw her... was like battle meant nothing to him. He just ran in after her, barely caring for beasts or ship or fellow warriors."

"And you're surprised? He did this kind of thing back when you lot hung out back in Mordor, I'm positive." Gundza shook his head "Ironic isn't it? I'd consider your obsession with War similarly dangerous if given the proper scenario."

Kruk looked to him with an air of offense on his face before smiling wide and gesturing to himself, "Devotion to Flame cannot be labeled as mere obsession," he stated before spreading his arms wide "it is way of life for all blessed by war."

"Exactly, you have the Flames of War, Bubol has his unending lust and odd fixations on certain individuals, and I suppose even my newfound thirst for the butchering of Hybrids could count among those fascinations." Gundza looked down over his knife again, eyes trailing to a necklace of dry Faunus ears hanging from his neck "I've been taking more risks, getting a bit more feisty just to spill more Hybrid blood. Many of my actions have gone against numerous lessons I learned as an Assassin, its odd how little consideration I would've given these choices back in the day. Yet now..."

As he trailed off, Kruk lowered his arms and tilted his head at him, "Not really understand that, War aims for opposing sides to conflict in the name of Flame. Why focus so heavily on Faunus? Not very easy to understand."

Gundza slid his blade back into its sheathe, "You wouldn't unders-"

Suddenly Gundza paused as he was stricken with realization, looking back to Kruk as a smile spread on his face, "Actually... now that I think about it, you'd probably understand more than most would."

Kruk leaned towards him with curiosity, "Meaning?"

Gundza walked over and slid into a nearby chair before leaning an elbow on his knee and looking up at Kruk, "I'm in a sharing mood right now, friend. So let me tell you exactly why I hate those hybrids with such passion."

---

Somewhere in Anima...

"Ugh, this is what I hate about common criminals."

Emerald sighed as she looked out the window of the large transport truck they were in. Watts didn't wait for her to answer, turning the wheel of the truck carefully as he continued speaking.

"They never seem to think beyond their immediate surroundings, what they need right then and there in the moment to survive." Watts shrugged "If you have the capability to plot out a plan for the future, at least you can consider yourself a higher tier of lowlife."

Emerald wasn't exactly willing to point out that she had been one of those lowlifes, as she was positive that he only brought it up specifically because of that. Instead she watched as the forests slowly gave way to the outskirts of a small town.

"I mean, just look at these dullards." Watts sighed as he gestured forward.

The town didn't seem to have many villagers around, instead the armed forces of the Consulate Militia were present in force. Not even bothering to change out of the traditional bandit garb that many of them wore, Emerald watched as several of the Militia vandalized a condemned community hall. Many were checking their weapons or sleeping out in the open, others gathered around a fire that had been lit in a destroyed bar, devouring cooked meat and alcohol at impressive rates.

The former criminals hadn't taken long to make the town look more like a bandit camp than an actual place to live.

"An opportunity to get in good with the Council is literally gift wrapped to them, yet most default back to their old ways." Watts sighed as he watched several of the Militia eyeing them as the truck passed "If the Council wasn't populated by cowering luddites, most of these fools would be right back inside their cells with their opportunity good and wasted."

Taking note of Emerald's silence, he glanced over to her, "I'd hope someone like you would be more proactive with such a chance this whole Amnesty Act provides."

"Someone like me wouldn't be so willing to bow down to a Council just because they feigned forgiveness." Emerald snapped back

"Yet further proof of your boundless ignorance." Watts shook his head as he slowed the truck down "I would've hoped Cinder trained her posse better than this. Anyone working so closely to our fair lady's circle should see endless opportunity in a situation such as this. Just think of how terrified those Councilors must've been to fall to such a state, making their own Criminals their primary method of defense. If their media wasn't cleaning things up so much, they'd undoubtedly be mocked to death internationally."

"Oi!"

Watts slowed the truck to a stop before a large wheeled barricade set up in the middle of the small town, putting the vehicle in park as a woman approached the side of the vehicle with a shotgun leaned on her shoulder.

As she approached, Watts smirked before looking to Emerald, "Most of these people would do better to keep themselves from getting a big head, you know?"

"The hell are you delivering?" the woman asked as she waved several other Militiamen over "Didn't get no warning about cargo coming through for another two days."

Rolling down the window, Watts leaned out before asking, "This is Dublen, right?" he asked dismissively "There aren't many towns on this particular route, but I'd like to be certain."

"Answer the question, old-timer." she restated as her eyes went to Emerald, "Else we might need to ask the meat ya got over there."

"I'll take that as a yes then," Watts sighed as he leaned back in his seat. Glancing to the side, he noticed Emerald's hands already gripping her weapons, he gave her a stern look before looking forward and speaking again.

"If you're so concerned over our cargo, then I suppose you should take a look at it, right?" he offered, though his tone did nothing to improve the Woman's mood.

Turning away, she put several fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly, soon five more of the Consulate Militia hefted their weapons and approached. Turning back to Watts, she scowled, "Yeah, we'll do that." she grumbled before making for the rear of the truck "Maybe you'll have something that'll pay for that punchable fuckin' look on your face too. Meat not keepin' their damn Elderly quiet these days."

"Pfft, elderly." Watts reached forward and turned on some music before relaxing in his seat and glancing to Emerald, "Be sure to utilize your youth well, girl. Don't want such insults to actually be effective once its gone."

As the Militia gathered close to the rear of the truck, one of them noticed the Woman cocking her shotgun, "You think he's hiding something, Sister?"

"If he ain't then there's no reason not to put some holes in whatever that prick's luggin' around." she stated as she took aim at the rear of truck "Now shut up and open it up, Brother."

Shrugging, the Militiaman stepped over to the door and undid the latch on the rear of the vehicle, not a moment after he began lifting the door, a giant scorpion tail latched onto the bottom of the door and yanked it up right before an axe launched out of the rear of the truck and slammed into the woman's shoulder, throwing her back as Tyrian lunged from the vehicle and sent his Tail skewering through her body. It burst from her back and imbedded itself in the ground, stabilizing him as he spun around and fired his weapons into the surrounding Militia as Skak hopped from the rear of the truck.

From a nearby building, another Militiaman called out, "We got trouble, guys!" before hefting a rifle and taking aim as Tyrian flung himself from the woman's body and began zipping towards him.

Skak yanked Blood-Axe from the woman's corpse before glancing back as Mercury casually hopped down from the truck, "Be sure to keep track, pal. Blood-Axe and I ain't lost a kill count in years!"

Mercury gave him a thumb's up as he spotted the Militia members around the fire tossing away their meals and drinks, "I'll make sure to do my best." he shrugged before strolling over to meet them.

Taking a breath, Emerald popped out of the passenger's side of the truck and opened fire on several more Militia members as they burst from more buildings, covering Tyrian as he tore a path among their ranks.

As the sounds of yelling and gunfire filled the small town of Dublen, Watts reached forward and turned the music down as he pulled out his scroll with a sigh, "Ugh, I'm above this kind of grunt work."

.{{{{{+-+}}}}}.

The scroll chimed only once before Hazel answered, "Watts."

"Tell me things are going well on your end."

Hazel turned to look at the massive red door before him, more specifically the spear-wielding guards that flanked it. Both of them were watching him intently from behind their masks, gripping tightly on their spears until their knuckles were white.

"Better than expected, given the initial arrival." he stated "I don't know how Taurus did it, but he's been keeping Sienna reigned in for the most part."

"Reigned in?"

"Let's just say she's far more volatile than I could've expected."

As if to highlight that very point, the nearby door flew open as Sienna stormed out, "How many times do we have to go over this, Adam?" she practically seethed as she nodded towards the guards "I'm not about to put our brothers and sisters under the heel of any human, period!"

Adam stepped outside with a hand on his head, adjusting his mask as he looked to her, "I keep trying to get this point across, this isn't a human we're aiding."

"Oh really?" she turned on him and glowered "Because you've been pretty negligent on details concerning that. Yet who do you smuggle directly into our base? A human. Who is it you tell me are already dancing to this thing's tune? Humans. Who are you requesting we ally ourselves with in order to fulfill this nonspecific goal of yours? Humans! If it weren't for the fact that your actions at Beacon were disastrous for everyone, I would've considered you a traitor months ago. Now it just seems like you're not thinking to your standards at all!"

"And I've been trying to say for the past week that I'm not at liberty to say," Adam gestured to Hazel "I brought him here specifically to sort those issues out, yet you continue to refuse even attempting to communicate."

"Why should I? You helping these humans have basically gift-wrapped an entire kingdom for otherworldly monsters!" Sienna exclaimed before shaking her head and groaning "Why do they deserve the luxury of an extended grace period?"

"We don't," Hazel stated as he lowered the scroll "I came to make a case for why a mutual relationship could remove incidents like Vale from the equation."

"And I don't recall saying you were permitted to speak, errand boy." Sienna turned on him before glancing to Adam "I don't know what kind of sick game you're trying to play with this, but-"

"I assure you, our mistress is no Human." Hazel stated, his interruption merely causing Sienna to turn to him with contempt.

"Oh really? Well I've heard she's no faunus either, so by all means... what exactly do you claim this thing is?"

"She's above those descriptors, above the conflicts that have torn both our peoples apart." Hazel nodded "Someone who sees no struggling in her vision for us, but rather unity under her guidance."

Sienna narrowed her eyes, "I've heard such platitudes from humans before."

"Then take care in knowing that she grew beyond her humanity long ago," Hazel offered "beyond the petty ignorance that allowed your people to suffer for so long."

"Pfft," Sienna looked away, her eyes eventually going back to Adam "and you're willing to put your entire position on the line for this, thing?"

Adam folded his hands behind his back, "The benefits are too great to simply ignore, Kahn."

Sighing, she rubbed at her face before stepping away and raising a finger, "One shot, I'll give you one shot to present a case for this madness. I promise you Taurus, your friend here better have the words of a saint to keep this from backfiring on you."

As she walked off, Adam glanced back to Hazel, who raised the scroll again, "Watts... you'll have to call some other time."

.{{{{{+-+}}}}}.

Ending the call, Watts pocketed his scroll and glanced out of the truck's window to see that in the few minutes he'd spent talking with Hazel, the already rubbish looking town had been reduced to a burning rubbish-looking town. Dead Consulate Militia everywhere, the fire pit had been torn up and spread to the nearby buildings, The Community Hall had crumpled as the result of one of the walls being torn up.

Yet despite all the devastation, the fight was nowhere near over. He spotted Kruk chasing down a wounded Militia member right as he lunged for a fallen rifle. The man lunged for the gun and swung it back only for the Blood-Axe to chop down through his hand and the gun on its way to the ground. The man stumbled back as Skak spun and tore his axe through his chest, flinging him through a weathered doorway, inside which several more figures were moving.

Leaning his axe on his shoulder, Skak glanced back as another Militia member was blasted by a swinging kick from Mercury, "Oi, what's my number at?!"

Glancing over, Mercury quickly stepped on the downed militia member's neck before closing his eyes, "Well, I'm pretty sure you're behind T by two kills, but I think he's running out of guys over there so... might as well push for the lead now."

Grinning, Skak glanced to his weapon, "Ya hear that blood-Axe?" he asked before strolling through the broken doorway "That's right, gotta bleed 'em faster!"

Opening the door, Watts slid out of the driver's seat and stretched as he watched an explosion rip through what was left of the community hall. Leaning out of the way of a burning hunk of wood, he strolled to the back of the truck before pulling himself into it. Watching this as she wiped some sweat from her brow, Emerald lowered her weapons as she ran her gaze over the town of Dublen.

She couldn't hear the yells or pounding feet of more Militia anywhere, just the bodies lying around the place and some fires. After a few more gunshots, she watched as Skak emerged from a building to find Tyrian and Mercury waiting for him. Once they were all together, Tyrian and Skak immediately began questioning Mercury on who had slain more in the fight, with Mercury urging them to calm down while he tallied things on his scroll.

Seeing they considered their competition over, Emerald holstered her own weapons and sighed before watching Watts hop down from the rear of the truck with a large device in one hand. It was a large tube with a handle on one side and several metal extensions on the other, a frothing black goo swished within the tube as it moved.

"Honestly, I could be doing so much more than this." he sighed before glancing to Emerald and raising the device "With how simple the design is, even someone like you could operate it."

"Do... we really have to go this far?" Emerald asked as she followed behind him "I mean, we don't want the Storm taking Mistral too, right?"

"Correct, but the Amnesty Act has had more concerning repercussions beyond the immediately apparent." Watts explained as he glanced around the surrounding buildings "Ever since their pardoning, the Branwen Clan has used the chance to oust and take over numerous smaller Bandit Tribes under the guise of Defending the masses from internal threats. We've been keeping track of their actions and they're quickly becoming the largest assembly of criminals in all of Anima."

"Isn't that useful for us?" Emerald asked before looking away as Watts glanced to her "I mean, if the Militia isn't completely at odds internally then they should be more effective at repelling the Uruks."

"Undoubtedly," Watts paused upon finding a large patch of grass behind the burning community hall "it wouldn't be a problem for us if not for the Branwen Clan's current Matriarch. She's aware of our dear lady, as she's a former pupil of Ozpin who 'flew the coop' in a way. Having someone in the know gaining immense power over a specific kingdom is not something we can ignore, we've only recently gotten Ozpin out of the way after all. The Branwens won't act with the same restraint as him, and this particular Matriarch is paranoid enough to become a problem if she's allowed to build power with such impunity."

With that, he kneeled down and rammed the extensions of the device into the grass, forcing it deep as Emerald folded her arms.

"But something like this-"

"If the Uruks truly do wish to invade Mistral next, then this will do plenty to inconvenience them as well." Watts stated "Any attempts to attack Mistral from the Southern Pass will find far more difficulty than it would under the watch of... well..."

Watts stood up while glancing towards the body of one of the Militia nearby with distaste, "These walking disappointments."

As he spoke, he took hold of the device's handle and twisted it, "This should give us some breathing room while we search for the Maiden," he brushed himself off as he turned and began making his way back to the truck "speaking of which, could you make yourself useful and go gather those simpletons so we can back to that?"

Though she'd given up on trying to argue with him despite how hard she had to grit her teeth, Emerald looked back as the device trembled for a moment before depositing the black goo into the ground. Eager to get back to the Maiden Hunt, she jogged off to find the others while the ground around the device began spewing black goo. More and more of it burst from the ground below as it began forming a large puddle around the device.

The puddle spread and deepened, swallowing the device whole and causing the nearby community hall to collapse into it as it grew.

Mercury watched from the rear of the truck as the building fell, with the roars of the first Grimm pulling itself out of the pool. He pulled down the door of the truck again before lying back against it with a yawn. As he pulled out his own scroll, he looked up to see Skak and Tyrian gathered around Blood-Axe while Skak spoke.

"And there he was, calling to me in the dark depths of that cave." Skak explained wiggling his fingers for dramatic effect "Even half-starved as I was, I was till able to hear him, he guided me over to him and-"

"But how could he see in a collapsed cave?" Tyrian asked with genuine curiosity

"That just how good Blood-Axe's eyes are." Skak snickered, much to Tyrian's awe.

Rolling his own eyes, Mercury decided to use the opportunity to check the CCT. Sitting up straight, he pulled out his scroll and began searching around on it while Skak continued regaling Tyrian of his exploits with Blood-Axe. Soon enough, Mercury turned his scroll to the side as he found a video feed of Mistral.

"Even now, more repentant patriots are being recruited by the council to preserve Mistral's safety and security." A news Anchor's voice spoke as images of the Consulate Militia roaming the streets of the city passed "But even so, Faunus Rights activists have found little success convincing contacts in the White Fang to accept the Council's offers."

The images changed to show the CMs brawling with people in nearly identical garbs as them, but the Anchorwoman said "And even still, pockets of the Blue Scarves are still threatening the lives of those within the kingdom's boarders."

Mercury rolled his eyes, "Are they serious?"

Both the CMs and the people they were fighting dressed like bloodthirsty criminals, in fact the only way one could differentiate between the two is if they inherently knew which bandit tribes people were associated with. Ever since the Amnesty Act when through, the Upticks in violence across Anima were devastating. Too many criminals were using it as an excuse to get out of prison and just desert the CM immediately, leading the Militia to have to spend resources countering them as well. The Council and the Media were quick to try and sway opinion by labeling the deserters as Blue Scarves members, but anybody who paid attention to anything on the CCT knew that the Scarves weren't even relevant to Mistral.

Ever since their operation in Vale was cracked down on before the fall, those particular extremists went scurrying back up north. Mercury wasn't sure how many accounts were accurate, but according to many people on the CCT they were definitely a Mantle problem. In fact, barely any of the Deserters even had any blue colors on them, so it wasn't even like you could associate them with the Scarves unless someone was telling you that.

The scene changed to show a row of Council members and 'former' bandit leaders standing alongside one another as one of the Council gave a speech encouraging the populace to aid the Militia wherever they could. Of course, Mercury couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the far right of the line up, where the Leader of the Branwen Tribe stood with her head lowered.

Raven Branwen, the one who had their friends on Salem's assembly concerned. He couldn't help but note that all the other Bandit Leaders were standing apart from her. Among them, beside two other Council Members, was Mr. Lionheart himself, the headmaster of Haven Academy. No matter what image Mercury found of the guy he always looked concerned about something, sure everyone in Mistral's upper echelon seemed to be on edge right now but Mercury had seen pictures of him sending off graduating students with that same air of worry flitting about him.

It was odd, but not as odd as the fact that many of the Bandit Leaders around him seemed to share that discomfort with many keeping tabs on Raven throughout the speech.

"With their help, we are continuing to prepare for any attacks that could be made against our great kingdom, both internal and external!" the Speaker said before gesturing to himself "When I look around at the suffering caused by those monsters, the terrorists and those who seek nothing but the destruction of our very way of life, I can only look upon those standing here at my sides and thank them for the work they've done to preserve it."

Despite the flair of his fluff piece, it didn't seem like any of the bandits were fit for cameras. The Council members and even Lionheart were doing their damndest to look presentable, in control, confident, then you had a bunch of heavily armed thugs flanking them as if the dichotomy wasn't supposed to be blatant. The Speaker didn't look as if he'd be stopping any time soon, so Mercury figured he might as well see how things were going up north.

Looking through several sites that were based up in Atlas and Mantle, it didn't take long for him to start getting the pop-ups.

'Pug-Bringer Studios, free monthly trial for all your musical needs'

'Masquerader Security Firm for all your protective needs'

'Banz Quick-Meats Delivery sends 'em right to you, Piping Hot!'

Mercury swiped through them as quickly as he could, seriously considering whether or not he should get some kind of ad-blocker solely for North-based sites. It only ever seemed as if they were prevalent up there, yet it never ceased to agitate him.

After fighting his way through the ads, Mercury finally managed to get to the good stuff. At first it was the usual: a panel of experts posing questions as to why Vacuo was essentially radio silent to the rest of the world, a story on Mr. Bisby purchasing another subsidiary in Mantle, several police reports on skirmishes with the actual Blue Scarves and an interview with an Atlas official on the state of the military's restructuring after the string of incidents they faced during the fall.

During this, he hadn't noticed that Skak and Tyrian's talking had trailed off. So when he got to coverage of a charity event being thrown by the Schnee family, he was unprepared for a hand to suddenly snatch onto his shoulder.

"Wait!" Tyrian practically whispered into his ear, making Mercury jerk away.

"A little warning next time, maybe?!" Mercury grunted, only to go wide eyed as Skak leaned over his other shoulder.

"Oi, Blood-Axe says he recognizes that one!" he said while holding up his weapon and gesturing towards the screen.

"You... mean you don't recognize Weiss Schnee?" Mercury shrugged as he followed his finger "I'm pretty sure that schoolkids nowadays know who she is."

Skak waved off his concern, "I tend to cut out my memories of folks I don't cross blades with, and I ain't ever thrown down with the likes of her." he nodded to Blood-Axe "But he's saying he saw her during a slave fight some time ago, now he's sad he didn't get the chance to bleed a blue-blood."

"That's not what we should be paying attention to, look!" Tyrian's grin widened as he directed their attention towards what was in the foreground of the screen, the cameras all being trained on Jacques Schnee as he led them towards a stage with a microphone in hand.

"And with the rising threats to our Kingdom, it seemed only prudent for the Schnee Dust company to offer as much assistance to our Military as we could." Jacques stated as he approached Ironwood, who was waiting at the head of the stage right at the apex of a massive curtain hiding the rear of it "Through our aid in addition to General Ironwood's foresight, we've managed to expedite projects that would've taken years otherwise. General?"

Passing the mic, the two looked to one another with unreadable expressions before Ironwood smiled, "Thank you Mr. Schnee, your contributions are invaluable."

"Quite." Jacques stepped back to allow the general to pick up where he left off.

"Vale was a wake up call that shook the world," he said towards the audience "One which Remnant may never recover from. But what I do know is that we will do everything in our power to keep such a tragedy from ever befalling out kingdoms again."

As he spoke, Tyrian gave a pleased little chitter of laughter, "Oho, they even have the Ace Ops in on this." he noted whilst pointing to where the camera revealed a group of men and women off to the side of the stage watching the proceedings, "That's how you know its important."

"Who?" Skak leaned forward to try and get a better look, only for mercury to nudge him back in a struggle to reclaim his personal space.

"Ironwood's elite force, practically his go to soldiers for the most important missions only." Mercury explained smile returning as he looked up to Skak "Careful there pal, I know how you and that Axe of yours operate. Ironwood may be a better leader than he is a fighter, but the guy does know how to bring up the best when he can."

"Shh, he's doing something!"

"Which is why, thanks in part to the charitable excess of resources donated by the SDC, our top researchers have managed to revolutionize Atlas's propulsion tech." Ironwood began pacing "Bringing our mastery of aviation up to a new standard that was only capable to few in the past."

He gestured up towards the curtain, which began pulling back as he spoke, "Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing the very first of the Atlesian Valkyrie Division."

Standing behind the curtain were three heavily armored Atlesian Soldiers, wielding large weapons that almost drew attention away from the large metallic backpacks each of them were wearing. At Ironwood's cue, the three spread out from each other as the backpacks unfolded into circular wings that pulsed with energy as the soldiers began floating off the ground.

"Science that before we could never risk putting on a living Soldier, only small scale for androids or large scale for ships." Ironwood explained as the Valkyries began circling the stage overhead with surprisingly coordinated flight patterns "Now we've bridged the gap with the SDC's help, allowing a single heavily armed soldier to manuever around the battlefield with the dexterity of a light assault craft."

"Uh oh," Mercury frowned "those look like they could be a problem."

"Worry not, our Goddess already has plans for Atlas down the road." Tyrian waved a finger "After all, the strength of an opponent means nothing once you know where they're the weakest."

"Only a few have been cleared for handling the equipment so far," Ironwood continued as the Valkyries landed beside him a tight formation "But within the next few months we can have Valkyrie squads patrolling the city and aiding in active military efforts."

As Ironwood held up a hand to the sound of applause, a voice over chimed in with, "An unexpected revelation during what many considered a straightforward Charity event, it seems the Atlesian military is revving up to show the world just how far they've come since the Fall of Vale."

"Wait... this isn't live?" Mercury grumbled as he quickly searched for another channel.

"What are you doing?" Skak asked "they could've been sayin' more about them cool flying sods!"

"Nah, I usually can't stand the voice over people that Atlas gets." Mercury rolled his eyes "I don't know how they do it, but almost all of them just sound so inhumanly punchable. And that's not even when they're blatantly lying about something."

He got to another feed of the event, only to groan as now there were two voice over people talking over the feed. To make matters worst, it looked as though Ironwood had finished his speech and passed the mic back to Jacques, who was speaking of the other ways that the SDC had managed to aid their kingdom since the Fall of Vale, along with how they'd continue to do so while asking all viewers to help them aid their military in this time of need. Jacques listed off numerous divisions which his company was now fundraising for, all of them not so subtly linked to the military in one way or another. But to Mercury's chagrin, he found that the voice over people weren't talking about any of that either. Instead they'd had the camera zoomed in on Weiss the entire time and were talking about-

"So, are you thinking newest Atlas Power Couple or what, Dana?" an overly bombastic guy asked as a woman chortled in the background

"Well I wouldn't know Rex, not many of our in guys were looking at the Winchesters before today, but they will be soon~!" Dana sang

Mercury found himself wincing as the two focused entirely on Weiss, who was indeed arm in arm with none other than Cardin Winchester off to the side of the stage while her father gave his speech. Though Mercury couldn't help but find the tone of the commentators coul-rending, he was intrigued by the oddity of the pairing.

"Oi, why those two tarks yelling a lot?" Skak asked

"Nobody knows, Skak," Mercury waved him off "I'm still trying to figure out how Cardin managed to get that to happen."

"You know him?" Tyrian asked with a tilt of the head

"Enough to know that Weiss is nowhere near stupid enough to pair off with him like this." Mercury shrugged "Probably some backdoor deals going on between their families."

"I hear that after her oh so tragic incident, the little Heiress is just dying to show off with a musical piece later this afternoon!" Rex chittered as Dana hummed in agreement, only for Mercury to switch to yet another channel.

"And that's enough of that."

---

The Arceus

"Ohoho, now this is what I just can't get enough of~" Uthug grinned whilst rubbing his hands together.

He was looking over a wheelbarrow full of possessions: Lien, Scrolls, jewelry and the likes.

Inside one section of the Arceus, the Black Tide Pirates had converted an old Caterer stronghold into a prison for the numerous captives they'd been taking. Now most of them were to be shipped off so they could be used as simple labor for the smaller ships in their Pirate fleet, but a few had come in with too many wounds to last long under lock and chain. The Blood-Storm were the closest thing to medical experts the Uruks had, save for a few lucky slaves who'd found greater use besides labor or food. Even their best captive doctors couldn't save everyone, those that died un operating tables joined the rest of the bodies that needed to be processed.

The Blood-Storm's purpose in hauling off those downed in battle had two purposes. The first was saving idiots and capturing prisoners to work on other ships, but the second was to supply an extra source of food. Bodies wound up getting sent to the Caterers and their cutters to be cooked and dished out to the rest of the crew. If anything the Caterers were still doing the same thing they'd been back when Uthug initially rampaged among their ranks, only now they were doing it for the benefit of the entire ship and not just themselves.

But this meant they had to strip down the bodies first, yet another valuable source of clothes, but it also meant dumping all those shiny objects the bodies could have on them. Now this right here was where Uthug was in his element, he'd been picking bodies for years before they'd all gotten dragged to Remnant. Why, he remembered back during training when he stole a sword right off some dumb glob who got himself eaten by a Caragor. He was still called a fresh-spawn back then!

He wasn't the first to get the idea to comb through the possessions of the dead tarks the Caterers chopped up, in fact there was practically a whole gang of Uruks who just went through the trinkets. Globs who wanted to see if they could find things to improve their armor, weapons, hell even some like Uthug who just liked havin' a bunch of cool looking things. Being someone with his kind of renown, Uthug always got first pick of the litter.

Unfortunately for him, most of the Tarks in remnant used plastic cards for money. He didn't know what sick, twisted tragedy had to befall a planet to where they didn't unanimously use superior gems and rare metals, but it wasn't as if he'd let it ruin his search. Besides, Gundza had boys collecting that lien stuff for some reason. Uthug wasn't sure what kind of Tarks he was planning on paying, seeing as no reasonable Uruk would accept such currency, but Gundza always said that they might as well be rich as well as feared.

Tossing the Lien aside for some other glob to grab, Uthug pulled a backpack from the pile and dumped its contents on the floor so he could look through it.

"Okay, magazine, magazine, moldy sandwich." Uthug groaned before finding a particularly shiny pen and figuring that it was good enough. Struck by inspiration, he cleaned out the rest of the junk from the bag and put it on. Figuring that its extra pockets would make looting easier, he slid the pen into it while going back to the pile.

"He's got a bag!"

"I know! He's got it, its for all them heads he collects!"

Uthug paused and glanced up to see several other pirates watching him intensely from a distance.

"He knows! The Black Cloth hears us!" though he trembled, the Uruk snickered at the idea

"We're goin' in the bag, our heads and bones first!" the other laughed in a mix of awe and fear

Uthug grimaced before his expression spread with rage as he turned on them, "Oi, both of you are pissin' me off with your chittery shrahk and giggling! Wasn't gonna care about ya'll yet, but then ya went and pushed it! Now go find something useful to do, damn it!"

"Of course!"

"Of course, of course!" the other pirates stumbled off, only for another grunt nearby to wander over and smirk.

"Heh, now that's how our Black-Cloth handles yappers." the grunt crouched down to look over one of the Magazines Uthug dropped before looking up to him "Nice one, boss. Went and showed those worms where their jabbering brings 'em."

Uthug found his disgust rising as she heard him speak, and wheeled on him to give him a thorough tongue-lashing as well "You-!"

His words trailed off when he found that this grunt was yet another of his... 'fans.' Decked out in a blackened outfit and wearing a battered white fang mask in the same style that Uthug did. Uthug hadn't been able to dissuade some of the Pirates from taking up similar outfits as his, if anything the style seemed to spread more over time. Sighing, Uthug decided to ignore him and go back to his own looting. With the aid of his newly acquired backpack, his efficiency was undoubtedly heightened by not having to haul his findings in his arms. Despite this, his dark heart just wasn't in it anymore.

No matter what, it seemed as though his efforts to keep from being labeled a captain or leader seemed to be in vain. The globs listened to him like he was a leader, his peers were all the most high ranking members of their fleet, and folks were doing their damndest trying to mimic him. Gundza and Kruk were right, he was a leader in everything but name, but that didn't mean he just had to accept it.

He wasn't sure where his disdain for the position was even coming from anymore. He'd worried at first that it would invite globs to try and his place, as was the Uruk way, but not many seemed dumb enough to go for it yet. Was it the extra responsibility? Well, he was already working to make sure nobody made all of his efforts go to waste so it was way too late on that front.

If anything, it was probably just how much bad luck seemed to follow those of a higher rank. Ever since he got to Remnant he'd seen leader after leader knocked down a peg. Ashgarn got demolished multiple times, Hork had that incident at the Tower that sent him running right to the Shaman, and Uthug spent weeks specifically tearing through the Caterers ranks with many of their highest members often suffering the worst.

Basically the only people who didn't seem to suffer much for their position were those Storm fellows and the insane. Despite what Gundza claimed, Uthug liked to think he was still very much in control of his mental capabilities, no matter how much the universe tried to push him. And it wasn't like the Storm were a safe bet, as long as someone was higher than you in the food chain they could do whatever they wanted with ya. Ratlug and Pugrish were proof enough of that, and Uthug had heard far too many stories to go placing himself under either of their supervision.

His luck was already garbage enough, so he didn't want to go tempting fate by declaring himself a bigger target. But with all the ways the Black Tide Pirates were treating him like someone of notoriety, wasn't that drawing a big target already?

Uthug groaned at the lack of answers his grumbling had brought him, focusing on the loot again so he could drive his thoughts away with the presence of interesting trinkets. Pulling his hand back, he sighed as he found yet another one of those scrolls in the pile. He'd collected a lot of them, and sure they were shiny but he'd never found much use for the things unlike Gundza. Many of the Pirates had tried working the devices with varied degrees of success. Looking at it for some time, he slid it into his backpack and turned away, done with the trinkets on display.

As soon as he stepped away from it, seven other Uruks immediately went for the same exact wheelbarrow. Uthug ignored the giddy voices behind him and made his way into an adjacent kitchen on his way out. One of those Cutters was examining a strung up body with a chainsaw hanging from one of his hands. It probably shouldn't have surprised Uthug, but many of the Larger Caterers had taken a liking to whatever saws they could find. It was definitely overkill for hacking up the bodies they were cooking, and had limited uses in a an actual raid, but damn it if the cutters weren't devoted to their tools of choice.

The Cutter looking over the body noticed Uthug passing by and turned to him, "Hey Warborn!" he waved with his free hand before gesturing with his saw towards the body "makin' a fine broth with this one, lottsa juicy fat hangin' off it. Want me to fix you a bowl?"

"Not today, Lorm." Uthug sighed as he passed "gonna be checking in on my hoard for the rest of the day."

"You got it!" Lorm revved up his saw and turned on the body "Take care not to stay in there too long, rest of the lads like havin' their Black-Cloth makin' rounds!"

Uthug didn't reply, instead he made his way down to what used to be the base of Bubol's crew. Back when the Arceus was still a prison and its factions fought, Uthug had spent plenty of time here helping Bubol launch his counter-offensive against the Caterers. Now that that battle was over and the ship's prisoners now ran a pirate fleet together, service halls like these were far less frequented, and that made them a perfect place for Uthug to hide away his loot in.

Prying open a door, Uthug gazed upon a single room stuffed to the brim with trinkets and shiny tools and all kinds of stuff. Now this, this was what got him relaxing the most. Just sitting back and taking in all the stuff that was his. Musket resting on a fancy chair, a whole bunch of ancient coins, broken bicycle that was way too shiny to leave unacquired. Uthug took a whiff of the stale air, practically filling his lungs with the smell of success.

Opening his backpack, he proceeded to find proper piles for all of his recently acquire things. Utensils went in one pile, cool looking blade went to another, then there was the pile of stolen scrolls in the corner. He was about to add the newest one to the top, when instead he figured he might as well try to use it for more than just decoration. Tossing the now empty backpack on one half of a hat rack that he'd taken for its shiny fake jewels, Uthug attempted to figure out how to turn the thing on.

He'd seen from other Uruks that most of these things had a button somewhere on them that activated them. When he found what looked like the right button, he immediately put his thumb straight through it, irreparably destroying the device immediately. Frowning, Uthug tossed it aside and grabbed another scroll from the pile, utilizing raw hesitation to activate it slowly and begin poking at it. Not too hard though, a good looter doesn't waste his loot.

For the next thirty straight minutes he struggled with the device's home screen, eventually managing to press something that immediately started spewing loud music at him.

"Tired of missing out on the premieres of your favorite songs?" an annoyingly loud voice asked "Sign up for Pug-Bringer Premium to get-"

"Agh, stop!" Uthug swatted at the device until he managed to accidentally exit whatever app he'd stumbled upon, closing the ad with it. Of course, his wild swatting had fractured the screen in the process, requiring him to grab yet another scroll from the pile.

Lounging back in a fancy chair he'd taken due to its entrancing wooden patterns, Uthug went on to figure out that Scrolls seemed to revolve around pressing pictures to make them do stuff. He didn't know how, but he found a live image of Ratlug torturing some tarks. He'd seen Uruks torture humans before, and quickly grew bored of the lackluster gore compared to some of the gruesome things the Caterers could do with a single body. There were several more things with Tarks talking about stuff he didn't care about, not helping were those damn ads that kept popping up occasionally.

Eventually he found that people were leaving comments on things, which didn't seem possible from a device like a scroll. He poked at images again until a keyboard was revealed to him, only for him to frown at it as he wasn't exactly well-versed in writing. He could read fine, and he knew most of the letters, it was just putting them together for messages that he'd never needed to brush up on.

Then another ad popped up the moment he tried figuring out the keyboard, immediately sending him to another site talking about music for some reason? He'd had enough of these ads and poked at images, trying to find some way to get into contact with whoever it was that kept messaging him these things. He'd get them to stop one way or another, learning these stupid things was hard enough without a bunch of greedy bastards throwing junk that he didn't care about at him.

---

Somewhere in the North...

In a certain building, on a certain floor, a certain girl was having a hard time.

Melanie wasn't having any of it, and knocked on the door before her, "Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad!"

"No!" Bebe's voice called out from the locked bathroom "Why do I have to be doing customer service? I hate most of these people!"

"You get paid dumbass," Militia mentioned whilst pacing beside her sister "you don't have a right to bitch."

Melanie rolled her eyes and leaned against the door, "You know I don't like agreeing with her, but look at it where we're standing. We have to keep a duo of loud, outspoken celebrities under constant surveillance in case a bunch of terrorists try axing them off for being jolly. You.. deal with people talking about them on the CCT."

Militia held up a scroll while smirking, "Besides, the stuff this newest guy's been sending you ain't exactly terrifying, most of its misspelled but damn if the passion isn't there."

"Its not just cuz' of him!" Bebe retorted "Its all of them!"

Melanie sighed and looked to her sister, who merely smirked before stepping away.

They'd found her locked away in the bathroom of her 'Office' or what passes for an office for the new and improved Pug-Bringer Studios. It was essentially just a large storage room that just so happened to have a bathroom attached to it instead of the hallway beyond. The shelves and boxes that used to fill this room had been shoved up against one side of the room, the only things there beside a window and a dirty bedroll were a mat and coffee table with a laptop on it. Truly, the fruits of her labor were on full display.

"Not sure what you're so pissy about, its only fringe folks who don't like the company." Militia pointed out whilst wandering over to the open laptop "Boss has pretty much all of Mantle throwing support at us."

"Yeah, but that means that all the weirdos who go ranting and raving aim for People like me!" Bebe cried out "You don't hear what they say!"

"Pardon me, weren't you a goddamn terrorist a year ago?" Militia asked before plopping down beside the coffee table and leaning against it "Big ole scary terrorist girl hiding from people online, how awe-inspiring."

"Damn it, Mil," Melanie looked back to her "no need to kick her while she's down."

"Why not?" Militia shrugged whilst tapping at the laptop "Unlike us, she gets paid to monitor a stupid webpage, sis. I spend all day being eye-candy to everyone on Remnant with even a partial connection to the CCT, and-"

"I'm going to stop you right there." Melanie folded her arms whilst narrowing her eyes "Because unlike me, I know you couldn't give less of a shit about that.

"Doesn't mean I can't get pissy when someone with a job as easy as her's wants to start whining because she has to do it." Militia shrugged

"Uh, guys?" Bebe tried from beyond the door "We were talking about my-"

"You whine all the time!" Melanie shouted "I don't think I can even remember a single day in my life when I haven't heard you whine about something. Not when we worked for Junior, not when I had to work in retail supporting us while you slutted it up, and not when we were blackmailed into working for Bigsby. Not once, not one day, I'd be more surprised to go a day without you complaining about something."

"You say that as if I don't do anything else." Militia pouted

"Do you?" Melanie raised an eyebrow "Because as long as we're on the subject-"

"Guys?" Bebe tried again "we were talking about how I was done with-"

"Shut up!" both of the twins bit at the same time before they returned to arguing with each other.

Sighing, Bebe turned away and stared at herself in the mirror. Despite upgrading from a crappy room in an abandoned music studio to a slightly less crappy room in a bigger music studio, she felt that her life hadn't improved at all. She still felt as though Ogthrak had a boot to the back of her neck, still got treated lack a second rate coworker by literally every other employee on the company payroll, and she didn't even have Krimp to vent to anymore. All she had were the sisters, who were far more... inconsistent.

It wasn't all bad, of course.

After their stunt at the Fall of Vale, Pug-Bringer Studios blew up in popularity once they'd settled in Mantle. They'd become so financially profitable that Mr. Bigsby had expanded their business to cover most of the city's entertainment industry. They had toys, television shows, funded several indie films and practically cornered the market on music. With all the terror people faced as a result of the Storm's numerous threats and the Grimm acting more sporadically, the need for the entertainment industry had been steadily rising.

Hell, Bigsby had even made the Masqueraders into a Security Firm, local producers who couldn't afford the Atlesian Military could hire them for a notably smaller price.

She even had a paycheck now, even though she couldn't exactly go buy stuff without ordering it online.

Helping save those people at the Fall of Vale made everyone under Mr. Bigsby's umbrella heroes, spreading smiles and joy to everyone who saw them. Bebe had gone from a terrorist hated by the masses to a part of a recognized group of heroes in under a year and the whiplash still hadn't settled.

Stepping away from the door as Melanie and Militia continued arguing in her pitiful office, Bebe approached the window high up on the wall of the bathroom. Standing on the edge of the toilet, she looked out over the city of Mantle. Even from the small window she could see advertisements for Pug-Bringer studios and it's partnered companies plastered everywhere.

Leaning up, she could see several teens dancing to their music beside a hotel. Across the street from them, a Masquerader was bobbing his head along to their music as he stood guard beside a row of storage spaces. Of course, her gaze was eventually drawn to the looming figure above Mantle, the floating City of Atlas. It hovered over Mantle in such an oppressive manner that she never would've been able to imagine from the stories. Up there, that was where the height of Faunus Discrimination was if her comrades could be believed. The stories of what the companies up there did to the Faunus down here was legendary, the SDC was the most notorious, but by no means were they the only company who had benefitted off their suffering.

It almost made her glad that Ogthrak was slowly digging his roots in right beneath them, but she couldn't be. She wasn't sure how, but certainly Ogthrak was aiming to help the Storm from within Atlas's borders once they finally came for them. They'd used the Blue Scarves to arm the forces they attacked Vale with, and now both the Scarves and the Masqueraders often came into conflict with each other in Mantle's streets.

It didn't make sense to her, from what she remembered of the meeting she and Krimp spied in on, the Storm was supposed to be rooted in Ogthrak's dealings and the Scarves as well. So why were they fighting each other? Over time, Bebe had to accept that Ogthrak was a far more coordinated businessman than she would've guessed for an otherworldly monster. The fact that she couldn't decipher what he was doing worried her, considering how much ground he'd managed to gain by taking advantage of the Fall of Vale.

Even if she hated those in Atlas, those who benefitted off of so much suffering, she knew that the Storm was no better at all. If they took Atlas the same way they took Vale, the horrors they could unleash upon Remnant would multiply tenfold.

She wanted to tell someone, warn someone.

Immediately her hand went to the back of her head, where she could still feel the fading scar. But if Ogthrak really had put a bomb in her head, she'd be walking on eggshells with every attempt.

She knew what the right thing was, to bite the bullet and rat him out as much as possible before he could enact his retribution. But the concept of dying... it seemed so much easier when she was fighting with the White Fang. She didn't have to think, just fight those who needed to be stopped and protect her people. But for some reason, without their ideals supporting her, things just felt far too real. She didn't want to die, didn't want to have to die in order to save anyone.

She was a coward, putting so many in danger just because she couldn't do what she knew that so many others would.

Looking back over the city of Mantle with her face scrunching up in sadness, she couldn't help but lament such things in solitude. She'd actually taken Krimp for granted during his time with her, the lack of proper people to vent to was getting unbearable. He'd shown up out of the blue once, so maybe... just maybe she'd get to rant to him again someday. She wasn't sure how he'd sneak in under Atlas's nose. But if there was anyone who could do it, it would be him.

.{{{{{+-+}}}}}.

Far off from the city, a large cargo ship was flying through the Frigid air of Solitas. It was on its path to Atlas, its cargo overseen by a compliment of Atlesian Soldiers.

Staring through the window into the cockpit, one Soldier turned away and pulled out his scroll.

He hadn't gotten through even a second tab on it before another voice called out to him, "Seriously?"

Groaning, the first soldier turned to see another looking at him with tangible distaste, "Come on, Val. There's nothing to do out here!" he stated whilst lowering his scroll "The Grimm congregate near abandoned sites or loading stations, there's nothing between us and the city. At least let me see what we're delivering all this for."

"Sorry to say this, Quentin, but the Valkyrie showcase ended a while ago." Val stated before turning away "Pretty sure they've got the heiress up there right about now."

Shrugging, Quentin raised his scroll again, "Well that's fine, she's got some vocals on- wait!" he looked to Val as she opened a thick metal door and made for the rear of the ship "That means you were watching, weren't you!"

In the next room, four other soldiers were gathered around playing cards of all things. Several nodded towards Val, whose frown deepened at the sight of them. In the center of the room was a hatch that led down a ladder to the lower level of the ship.

"I'll admit to nothing, soldier." Val said as she descended the ladder and approached yet another thick metal door "Even if I had checked in to see how the General's presentation went, that still wouldn't make me anything less than the most disciplined soldier on this craft. I'm the only one who's even still making their rounds anymore."

"What did you expect?" Quentin asked while looking for coverage of the Charity event "We're about fifteen minutes out from the city, there's no other Grimm to look out for here. Oh, oh I found it."

Val glanced back as Weiss's voice spilled from the Scroll, watchin Quentin waving a finger to the sound of her singing before she rolled her eyes and pressed at a keypad beside the metal door. A few buttons and it slid open to reveal the cargo hold beyond. Inside were several massive crates filled with scrapped metal, a few held dust but it was mostly metal that would be repurposed.

"Wonder how much metal James can squeeze out of those mines." Val grumbled under her breath.

"The General?" Quentin had heard her over Weiss's singing, lowering the volume so he could say "Should be enough to get the prototypes through the last beta tests. Man, I've heard about those guys in the Valkyrie division. Only used to see AK units hovering around before. Wonder how long it'd take to get through the training?"

"Better give it up, Q." Val stated as she paced back and forth, "Someone like you could ever operate weapons like that in the air."

"Pfft, didn't know it was possible for you to be more of a killjoy, but lately? Yeah, consider me enlightened." Quentin raised his scroll again and watched Weiss' performance while stepping away "Seriously though, just think of how much personnel we can free up with those things making rounds. Deal with Grimm easier, less vehicles needed for patrols, make some harder pushes against those Blue bastards in Mantle-"

The shift lurched to the side, causing both of them to stumble a bit.

It evened out after only a moment, but soon the panicked voice of the Pilot sounded throughout the ship "They're taking the ship!" she called out frantically "Its a Mutiny! They're with the Scarves-!"

Her voice was cut off by gunshots, the speakers cutting out as Quentin lowered his scroll in disbelief, "Mutiny?" he turned "We need to get up the-"

He wasn't able to dodge the point blank pistol round which tore along his aura, but he still managed to lunge back and go for his holstered gun. His scroll clattered to the floor as Val rushed him, his gun smacked out of the way immediately as she fired her sidearm straight at him four more times. The first two rounds broke through his aura as the last two tore through his leg right before she slammed her helmet against his and sent him smacking into the side wall of the cargo hold.

As he slid down the wall, he groaned as his wounded leg pressed against the ground. But despite that, he looked up as Val trained her gun on him.

"You... why? You were serving longer than me!" Quentin demanded as his eyes snapped towards his scroll

Val shrugged as she planted her foot between him and his scroll, "Gotta show them why we cry somehow, Q."

Quentin's head snapped up at that phrase, "You... you're with the Scarves? That doesn't make any sense, how would-"

"Won't matter to you," she stated as she lifted a foot and crushed his scroll under it "nor will it to James once we ram this entire ship right into those smug bastards and teach them a thing about..."

Val trailed off, and for a second Quentin had no idea why. But then he heard it: Weiss's singing. His eyes snapped towards his scroll, but it was thoroughly destroyed by Val's foot. No, it was muffled, coming from elsewhere, somewhere among the cargo.

At just that point one of the largest crates jostled, with Val turning towards it even as she kept her gun trained on him. The crate rocked and shook for a moment, nearly lurching out of the straps which held it in place at one point before it went still.

It was silent for several seconds, and just when Quentin was considering lunging for the gun.

A thick fist punched right through the metal crate, the muffled singing of Weiss growing with the barrier containing it broken. The fist flexed open before reaching back and tearing the hole it made wider.

Soon a large face emerged from the crate and looked around before grinning as it spotted them.

"Sorry about that, pals!" the Uruk apologized with glee "Was listening in on ya talk and figured I couldn't stay all silent-like anymore."

Quentin recognized this Uruk, Ironwood had notified everyone about him a while ago. The one who somehow could travel around the world and befriend so many, the one who could just disappear and appear seemingly out of nowhere.

Krimp the Friendly

Unlike the last time he was spotted, now he was wearing large dark cargo pants and boots that matched. The large beige winter coat he wore still looked small on him, as it was bulging in several places. On his back were three handles, one for the massive serrated sword strapped to his back and two for those odd spinning axe blades he was known to wield.

"You..." Val seemed to recognize him too as she whipped her pistol around towards him "When did you-!"

"Sorry!" Krimp said as he stumbled from the crate and stretched, one hand holding the scroll that Weiss's song came from "Took the place of some o ya stuff before ya took off, but that's not important right now."

He closed his scroll and pocketed it before holding up his hands "I gotta ask if ya don't go crashing into that whole thing goin' down at Atlas. I got me lots o' friends there that I'd be really really sad to say bye to."

Val scowled, glaring at him in what could only be enraged disbelief "You... what?!"

Krimp tilted his head at the gun aimed for him and smiled down at her, "I said, 'I got me lots of friends there that I'd be really really-"

She fired, but Krimp didn't go for any of his weapons. Instead he tilted a hand into the dust round's path immediately. It slammed against his skin, broke, then faded as he peaked through his fingers, "-sad to say bye to."

Val backed up and pulled the trigger again, Krimp closed his fingers and gave a thoughtful hum as dust rounds slammed against him. Quentin pressed himself against the wall as he watched Val unload upon him, not once did he see any sign of Krimp's aura flaring from the damage. Instead, he seemed to shake his head in disapproval.

"I'd love to try talkin' ya down and all, buddy." Krimp said before taking a step forward "But I'm tryin' to get to a job right now, so I gotta deal with ya all quicks and the like!"

As he said that, he stepped closer towards Val even after she reloaded and emptied another magazine trying to take him down. The dust rounds didn't slow him down in the slightest, and he kept marching right towards even as her gun clicked empty for the second time. Just as she went for another clip, Krimp lunged for her with an out-stretched palm. Val slid out of the way of his grab, only for it to immediately come backwards and slap her gun from her grasp.

Krimp raised a finger and wagged it, "Now that that's done with, we can talk about-" he was interrupted as Val drew a combat knife and immediately swung it right at his face.

A loud clink of metal sounded as Val leaped by, glancing back to find that he hadn't budged. In fact, he glanced back to her with a raised eyebrow-

-and the broken blade of her knife clutched between his teeth.

Val's eyes snapped to the handle of her blade, grimace expanding as she turned to glare at Krimp before throwing it at him. He didn't even attempt to move out of the way, just started chewing the blade in his mouth as the handle bounced of his head. Though Quentin watched in horror as Krimp successfully managed to crumple the blade in his mouth with nothing more than his jaws, he couldn't help but watch as Val lunged for the cargo bay's door and slammed a fist against the keypad. As it broke, she slipped out of the cargo bay as the door closed behind her.

Quentin's mind went back to the threat she was giving before Krimp's emergence, he knew he had to do something. She'd damaged his helmet during their fight, the comms wouldn't go through. Grunting, he tried pushing himself up when the unnervingly loud sound of something being gulped down brought his attention back to Krimp. He was patting his stomach with a pleased sigh, but his expression was fixed in a pout as he looked towards the door.

"Wow, she seemed really upset about something." he wondered aloud before his attention went to Quentin "Don't go putting too much weight on that, buddy! Don't think that's good for wounds and whatnot!"

Though his sudden appearance was disorienting, Quentin had read the reports on this Uruk. As long as he didn't set him off in some way, Krimp wouldn't be a threat. A threat to security due to his uncanny proficiency in stealth despite his size? Definitely. But the Blue Scarves in control of a shipment like this heading right for Atlas was far worst. Quentin winced as he tried to stand, despite Krimp's warnings. But the Uruk was right, Val had gotten him good.

Swallowing, Quentin slid back down and muttered, "H-Hey man, could you do me a favor and-"

He was interrupted by the sound of rending metal, and looked over to see Krimp tearing open a metal compartment on the other side of the cargo bay. He turned and strolled over before tossing Quentin a first aid kit. The soldier looked down at it confusion for some time before Krimp squatted down and tilted his head at him.

"Ain't ya gonna fix ya' self up, friend?" he asked, only for Quentin to shake off his surprise.

"How did you know?" he asked as he carefully opened the kit "Where it was, I mean."

Krimp shrugged, "Don't all B-27s got medical stuffs at the front and rear?" he asked

"You... you know that?"

"Well what kinda friend would I be if I didn't?" Krimp snickered, as if it was the simplest thing the world

Brushing it off, Quentin looked up to him, "Krimp, listen to me... Can I ask you... as a friend, to stop-"

"Stop them scarves from crashing the ship?" Krimp nodded before stepping away "You got it pal! Was gonna do that anyway, they could go and mess up the job I'm tryin' to do right now. Can't go having that, so might as well give it the ole' friendly touch!"

Quentin pulled out some bandages and stabilizers from the kit, "Now hold on, you'll need me to get that door open since Val broke-"

The horrible sound of something ramming against solid metal made him fumble with the medical kit, and soon his eyes snapped towards Krimp as he backed away from the door and launched himself at it again.

"You can't just-!"

The door dented inwards on the second ramming, with Quentin's eyes widening as Krimp hummed happily to himself and backed up again. Seeing that, beyond all strings of logic, Krimp was mere seconds away from crashing through that door. Quentin hurried to do what he could to slow his blood loss and bandage up his gunshot wounds. It was haphazard given the circumstances, but allowed him to roll over slightly as Krimp careened into the door a fifth time and tore it from the doorway.

Landing in a pile of laughter, Krimp looked up towards the hatch above and reached for it as Quentin called out, "Wait! They're all armed, Krimp! You don't have your aura!"

Krimp tilted a head at him and smiled "Aw, ya feelin' worried for me?" Krimp waved him off "Well you rest easy, buddy-o-mine! I ain't needed my Aura once since me and my brothers came to this realm! I'm sure I'll be just grand."

Despite his claims, Quentin rolled over and continued his first aid as Krimp made for the hatch. As he worked, he heard the sounds of yelling and gunfire from above. Once he'd managed to path himself up as best as he could without aura, Quentin pulled a syringe out of the kit and jammed it into his shoulder. Pressing on the plunger, he gasped for a moment before tossing it aside and glancing towards his dropped sidearm. Pulling himself over to it, he grabbed it and began hauling himself over to the ladder which led up the hatch.

As he struggled to climb, he could hear the yelling more clearly.

"Oh come on lads," Krimp's dissapointed tone stood out amongst the panicked shouting of those around him "Just gotta land the ship and we's all peachy!"

"Don't let him near that damn door!" Val's voice called out

"Why the hell isn't he going down?!" another soldier shouted

"The head!" cried another "Shoot him in the goddamn head!"

"Its doing jack shit you dumb- woah!" the most recent yell was cut off "No! No! NOAAAAGGGGHHH!"

A shadow appeared at the top of the hatch, and Quentin had just enough time to press himself against the ladder as one of the mutinying soldiers was sent sailing down behind him before slamming face-first against the floor below. Gritting his teeth, Quentin hauled himself to the top of the ladder and looked up to see the calm scene from before had been replaced by pure pandemonium.

Krimp was stumbling around the center of the room, reaching back to pull one of the soldiers off his back as she stabbed at the top of his head over and over again with her combat knife. Val was pressing herself against the door to the cockpit while gesturing towards a third soldier who was frantically reloading his shotgun.

"Oh come on guys," Krimp pouted as the knife bounced off the top of his head over and over "I really got super important work to get to."

He suddenly twisted sharply to the side, sending the soldier rolling off of him as he turned towards the the shotgunner.

"Fire!" Val shouted to him, causing the sweating man to take aim and fire at Krimp. Holding his hand up in front of his face again to ward off the pellets, Krimp suddenly jogged towards them. Both the Val and the Shotgunner lunged out of the way as Krimp rammed against the cockpit door.

"The hell is going on out there?!"the voice of the last soldier called out from inside

"Just keep flying!" Val shouted back before her eyes locked on Quentin, she darted out of the way before he could line up a shaky shot with his pistol.

In the meantime, the Shotgunner hadn't been able to evade Krimp's grasps for long. Amidst him most recent blast, Krimp lunged forward and dragged the shotgunner towards him whilst rearing back. Krimp dragged him forward just as his fist slammed into the side of the soldier's helmet, flinging him away from his gun and causing his Aura to flare dangerously. Krimp waggled a finger at him before holding up the shotgun-

-and taking a bite right out of the center of it.

"Aiming all willy nilly," Krimp murmured as he nonchalantly swallowed down the bits of broken weapon whilst tossing the remains of it to his sides. A yell of rage preceded the first soldier running at him with her knife. Krimp glanced back as she leaped at him only for him to swing his arms up and snatch her right out of the air. He didn't even pause before merrily swinging around with her in his grasp and slamming her against the wall of the ship. Even as she reared back with her aura flashing, it wasn't enough. His grip was solid, and soon he slammed her against the wall again as the rest of her aura flickered out.

He pulled back for a moment as she dizzily swung at him with her knife, only for him to rear back and slam her against the wall two more times until she stopped moving save for the broken fragments of her helmet falling away.

"There we go," Krimp nodded to himself as he patted the hopefully unconscious woman on the head "sleep time's always better than angry time.

He turned around, "Ain't that right, friend of mi-" he raised a hand as the other soldier fired at him indescremenently, with Krimp rolling his eyes and dropping the battered woman "Oh boy, guess we're still playing rough, eh?"

The soldier fired and backed away as Krimp turned his full attention on him, only for another dust round to slam against his back and send him tumbling forwards. Quentin had pulled himself from the hatch and fired upon the easiest target he could spot. With Val darting around, the distracted soldier was the best bet. But that one moment of altered targeting was apparently enough for Val to run towards him and kick the gun from his hands.

"Just stay down!" she snapped before making for the fallen sidearm, only for Quentin to grab hold of her ankle and drag her to the ground.

Behind them, the shotgunner had suffered a jam at the worst possible moment. The harsh clink of a dust round getting lodged improperly distracted him long enough for Krimp to ram his shoulder into him and force the man back. Stumbling and acting on impulse, the man drew his own combat knife and immediately went on a frenzied offensive. Swinging it wildly as he closed in on Krimp, the man lunged forward only for Krimp's hand to shoot up and catch his wrist in an instant. The soldier tried to pull back and yank free, but Krimp's other hand shot forward and took hold of his armor as Krimp hauled him up into the air and raised high above him before yanking him down and slamming his body onto his knee

His aura broke, and the soldier only looked up with a terrified look in his eyes as he gasped for air and rolled off of Krimp's knee before collapsing on the floor in a battered pile.

"You done yet, lads?" Krimp asked as he looked over to see Val beating Quentin over the head with the butt of his sidearm. His words drew her attention, and she was quick to stumble back away from Quentin's groaning form as Krimp jogged towards her.

She swung her pistol up as Krimp grabbed for her, firing a round which shattered against his palm as he lunged forward and caught her wrist. She immediately dropped her gun into her other hand and tried to fire, only for Krimp to swing her to the side by her wrist and raise his leg before sending his foot crashing against her elbow and immediately snapping her arm from the impact.

Though she yelled out with rage and pain, Val still tried to turn her gun on him with her good arm. It merely prompted Krimp to keep dragging her around by her broken arm before swinging her off her feet and sending her slamming against the door to the cockpit. She slowly slid down it, wheezing as she fell to her knees beside the door. That one stroke of luck seemed to keep her from getting flattened. As almost immediately after throwing her, Krimp reared back before charging towards the door at full speed.

It too suffered the fate of its cousin down in cargo, being ripped from the doorway as Krimp stumbled in. He slipped on the blood of the ship's pilot, who had been slumped against the rear of the cockpit. The last mutinying soldier looked back at Krimp and spun around to pull his gun on him. Krimp charged towards him as dust rounds broke on his form, his hands shooting forward to yank the soldier out of the pilot's chair right as he turned his gun on the ship's front window.

Quentin slumped against the doorway, looking up as the soldier fired at the window, "Wait!" he cried out as the bullets shattered the window which sent glass and sudden wind towards Krimp, he grounded himself, attempting to yank the soldier away from the controls. Instead the man's free arm slammed against the steering apparatus and sent the ship down to the snow below.

The sudden shift downward sent all of them stumbling, only for them all to be rocked by the sudden jerk of impact.

Quentin wasn't sure how long he was out, only that he was already shivering from the cold.

As the darkness slowly faded and the image of the cockpit solidified before him, he realized that he was lying against the dead pilot. He winced as his hand came in contact with her's, but looking ahead he spotted the unmoving form of the soldier before him. Or better yet, he could see Krimp crouched over him putting a blanket on him. Through the broken window, Quentin could see the lights of Mantle and Atlas in the distance. He could see it, the light framing the snow which was beginning to pour into the cockpit.

The snow.

Quentin's eyes widened as he realized just how cold it was getting, the ship's temperature regulation was fading. Without it or his aura, Solitas would show no mercy. Panicking, he nearly missed the sounds of approaching footsteps. Weakly, Quentin focused back on Krimp, who strode towards him with a helmet in one hand and another blanket in the other. Now that it was close, Quentin could see that it wasn't a mere blanket. No, they were thermal covers they'd use when transporting certain types of dust.

"Oho, looks like ya still kicking!" Krimp sighed before lifting the thermal cover "Got a bunch these nifty things from the emergency compartment in the back, should keep ya nice and kickin' till ya pals came along."

He dumped the cover beside Quentin before leaning down to drag it onto him, "Wrapped up the others as good as I could, but I really gotta get to my job before ya report me."

Quentin winced as the helmet landed in his lap, "It... the comms work on this." he noted immediately as he weakly grabbed at it "You're gonna... let me call for help?"

"Now why wouldn't I do that?" Krimp tilted his head and raised a finger "I can get to me job before ole James gets everyone on alert, lickety-split!"

He gave a wave as he made for the broken window, but Quentin coughed loudly as he called out, "Just... turn yourself in Krimp! You aren't using aura! If you go out there you'll never make it to Mistral before you get frozen solid!"

Krimp paused beside the downed soldier and tilted his head to the side, "Sorry about this, pal, but I've got a job to get to. I wouldn't want to make my bro all dissapointed with me."

"Krimp!"

"Besides," Krimp looked back and winked "it takes a lot more than the freezin' cold to stop a friend like me, Buddy!"

With a snicker, Krimp hopped atop the downed ship's controls before leaping from the ship out into the snowy expanse.

---

Here it is, yet another chapter done far earlier than is usual for me.

There's a reason for this, as this chapter is a reworked assortment of cut scenes that could've been in the last chapter if not for being hard to fit in. Turns out that all I had to do was put them later on the timeline after the events of the last chapter, alter a few things here and there and boom. Its probably why its also the shortest chapter I've done in a long while, at least if ya don't count the prologue of this volume and the epilogue of the last one.

That being said, this chapter did give me a chance to go over an Uruk who's apparently a fan favorite, yet I never gave an Author's Note to.

Uthug

Surprisingly enough, Uthug's role in the original Shadow of Mordor game was extremely limited. He was just a complainer who hated having to utilize his skills, preferring to slink about in the background and growing impatient and irritable whenever he had to take the spotlight. He was a perfect contrast to Tuka, who would always seek glory and renown wherever he went. Fighting the two of them together was always a comedic treat, seeing as Tuka would always call out to surrounding Uruks for them to feast their eyes on his accomplishments only to hiss and grumbled whenever I had to put focus on Uthug. Eventually, his attempts to garner fame by killing me led directly to his death as he tried leaping at me only to get in the way of Uthug's attack.

It wasn't exactly like killing Uthug afterwards was hard, so I didn't bring him in for the difficulty like so many other members of the cast. Initially it was just for that Tuka and Uthug dichotomy that I liked from the game, but as the story went on Tuka's death seemed inevitable. Without him, I knew I'd have to get more creative with Uthug, but surprisingly found that he gave me a lot of material to work with.

Anyway, hope you enjoy, any and all criticisms positive or negative are welcomed in full so leave a review or comment if you are so inclined to do. Things you enjoyed about it? Things you hated about it? Any ways you feel I could improve? Expectations for the next Volume? Follow or Favorite at your leisure and I will see you all in the next installment of The Dreamer Gate.

Next Chapter: The Friendly Visit