Legend (For new Characters):
Dopinder (Karan Soni): This was the cab driver from the last chapter(s) that had given Yang and Ruby a talk. He's a fictional character from the Deadpool movies. The Dopinder in my story is essentially the same as that in the movies but has a few differences in character. He won't be appearing again for a bit, but more on him will be revealed in time.
Annie January [Campbell] a.k.a "Starlight" (Erin Moriarty): This is another fictional character from the Prime Original Series, "The Boys". And she is Hughie's wife in this AU of RWBY.
Cherie (Jordana Lajoie): From the same Prime Orginal series. In the show, she WAS Frenchie's significant other. But in my story, they're still a thing.
Kimiko (Karen Fukuhara): Still from the show "The Boys". To avoid too much character spoiling, I'll just say she's also Frenchie's significant other.
And also, supposedly Kimiko here in my story would've talked but in a Japanese (Mistral) language. But after wasting an entire day with trying to decipher words that made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever, I said; "Nah, we'll go Neo mode and have her sign and stuff". And thus, this Kimiko was made.
That is all for now, Continue.
/~•~•~•~•~•~/
Book 1: Silver and Steel
Chapter 1: Big Brother
Page #4/
/~•~•~•~•~•~/
Approximately a mile and half eastward from the Tavern, we find Gerald of Patch, along with the four elites of the VSF, entering a cave that led deeper inside one of the enormous mountains of Patch. And not long after they had crossed the mouth of the gaping cave, the young Branwen saw a massive camouflage colored Bull-Head stationed inside. But it didn't look like any Bull-Head he had ever seen before. It looked bulkier but at the same time aerodynamically leaner than the norm. And he also couldn't help but notice it's two turbine engines looked more... advanced. Yes, that was the only word the young man could use to perfectly describe it. And the Bull-Head as a whole. It looked like the love child of a standard Valian Bull-Head and an Atlas one.
"Like what yew see, kid?" Gerald heard the heavily accented voice of William Butcher sound off from beside him. He glanced to his left to see the bearded man himself walk up next to him. "She's da first ov 'er kind, " William explained as he nodded towards the advanced Military-esque flying ship. ", a new generashun ov Military tech if yew will. The exact details are classified, but between you and me?" The black trenchcoat-wearing man smiled a vicious smile at the young Branwen. "This 'ere'll give those Atlas cunts a run for their money."
"Ahs eef, Butcher." Frenchie scoffed as he and Mother's Milk passed by them.
"Oh, yee ov so little faith." Barely sounding nowhere near insulted with the smaller man's remark, Butcher replied with a short mirthless laugh. And the young Branwen couldn't be sure of it himself but it sounded like that was a quote from the 16 Faiths.
"Annie!" Hughie Campbell, who had walked ahead all of them and was the first to near the Bull-Head's sealed elevated doorway, called out a name. A woman's name, apparently. "Ladies! We're back!"
"You know you don't really need to shout "we're back" every time we come back, Hughie. It's highly unprofessional." Gerald heard the Vacuan ethnic man, Mother's Milk, remark as he and Frenchie followed close behind Hughie.
"Annie?" Gerald turned to Butcher with a questioning look.
The bearded man answered with an enigmatic smile as he slapped Gerald's bicep before walking ahead of him. "Hum on then, " He said, gesturing for Gerald to follow. ", meet da rest ov me team."
With a soft grunt, the young Branwen did just that and followed close behind Butcher. And soon as he took those few first steps forward, the Bull-Head's doorway opened up and a metal ramp protruded and lowered to allow access inside. And there, at the threshold of the Bull-Head's doorway, stood a woman with blonde hair tied in a ponytail and was wearing a military-grade bulletproof vest over her standard camouflage colored Valian Military Uniform.
"Took you guys long enough." The blonde said as she walked down the ramp and moved to intercept Hughie.
"Hey." The man himself replied simply as he and the woman met at the foot of the ramp.
And in an act that had Gerald raising a brow, the blonde-haired woman and the man Hughie locked lips for the briefest of moments as Frenchie and Mother's Milk passed them and walked up the ramp. It was a chastised kiss, one that barely lasted even a second, but it was enough for Gerald to get a read on them and the possible "thing" they had.
Lovers. Maybe more. The young Branwen thought. And he saw his definite answer come in the form of the identical rings the two of them were wearing. Oh, definitely more.
"All right yew two, break i' up. Save da smoochin' fer after we're done wiv da mission." Butcher said to the Hughie and the woman before turning towards Gerald. "Kid, meet aaahr Annie January, " He continued, gesturing the woman. ", Annie, meet Gerald ov Patch." He said, gesturing this time towards the young Branwen.
"Nice to meet you." The blonde-haired woman, now known as Annie January, greeted the black leather armored young man with a smile and nod.
"Likewise, ma'am," Gerald replied simply with a nod and a small smile of his own.
"All right!" With a loud clap of his hands, Butcher walked up the ramp. "Yew can get yaaahrselves acquaine'd some mawer on board. We're takin' off." He called back to them as he neared the threshold. "We've got a tight schedule ter keep, so chop-chop." He gestured for them to get a move on before fully disappearing inside.
And not long after, the Bull-Head's turbine engines came to life and quickly filled the gaping cave they were in with noise. And with him still standing on the cave's rocky ground, Gerald could feel how the turbines starting up shook their surroundings.
Those must be some pretty powerful engines. Gerald thought.
"Well, let's go," Annie said as she grabbed Hughie's hand and led him up the ramp. "You too sir, " She continued without looking back to Gerald. ", you don't wanna be left behind now."
And when the two of them crossed the threshold, the Bull-Head's turbines roared louder and shook the cave even more.
With another one of his signature grunt- like "hmm", the young Branwen wasted no time in walking up the ramp. And he soon discovered what Butcher had meant when he said they were on a tight schedule. For as soon as Gerald stepped through the threshold, the lowered metal ramp quickly retracted itself and not long after the doorway sealed shut.
"Hold on tight ter yaaahr undies!" Butcher shouted back to them from the cockpit before pressing a number of buttons and flipping a few switches on the control panel.
"W-wait Butcher, I still-"
But before Hughie could finish his sentence and successfully buckle himself, Butcher slid down a lever that instantly made the Bull-Head's turbine engines increase in power. This had the Bull-Head lifting quickly off the ground and, with another lever pull that had the turbine engines rotating a few degrees so that it's exhaust-ways were facing back. Butcher then pushed the control stick forward and a sonic boom resonated from the turbine engines as the Bull-Head blasted off from the confines of the cave and out into the open world. Thankfully, despite the suddenness of it all, Annie was able to put her arm in front of Hughie to keep him from jolting out of his seat.
Then, without so much as a word of warning, Butcher abruptly pulled the control stick. This caused the Bull-Head to take a sharp change of direction upward and had the inhabitants jolting once again in their seats. Or well, ALMOST everyone. This state of ascent lasted for a total of 57 seconds, long enough for the aircraft to reach 30,000 feet off the ground, before Butcher finally moved the control stick to a neutral shift. And with another round of button pressing and switch flicking on the control panel, the bearded man acting as the pilot successfully made their aircraft fly straight. It was still going at high speeds, but at the very least it was moving in a straight line now.
"Ah, " Butcher said with a breath as he typed in the coordinates into the Bull-Head's built-in autopilot system. ", anuvver successful liftoff, eh?" Once the aircraft's computer system had confirmed the coordinates, Butcher swiveled his pilot seat to face the other inhabitants of the Bull-Head.
"Really, Butcher?" Annie exasperatedly demanded the black trench coat wearing man as she helped Hughie fully fasten his seat belts. "You almost threw Hughie off. Again!"
"Eh, bullocks," Butcher replied coolly with a shrug of his shoulders. ", he'll survive. He tends ter do daht a lot wiv yew around." He continued, making Annie grumble under her breath and Hughie stare at Butcher with a "really?" look on his face.
"Well-well, " Quickly moving on, Butcher looked to Gerald and remarked with an arched brow. ", yew look like yaaahr 'oldin' pret'y well enough." He continued as he gave the young Branwen an up-down look before grinning. "Enjoyed yaaahr first lift-off on Vale's best an' finest?"
"A little warning would've been nice." Gerald replied, hands on his side and still standing with legs apart near the sealed doorway. Almost as if he hadn't budged a single inch from that same spot.
"A wahrneeng?" Frenchie scoffed with a grin, making Gerald look to him and see that he was sitting in between two women the young Branwen had seen on his way inside. "My friend, you baherly even fleenched when we took off. Ahnd now, you're litterahlly stahndeeng perfectly straight ahs were moving at 2,000 miles per hour." Another scoff from Frenchie. "I'm pretty sure you dahnt really need wahrneengs, wouldn't you ahgree?"
Just because I can react in time doesn't mean I prefer to not have a heads up in advance. Gerald thought, letting out a grunt as he crossed his arms. Focusing all the while in making sure his lower body muscles and his center of gravity were working in tandem with the aircraft's velocity and minuscule changes of vertigo to ensure he wouldn't end up being flung back. Guess this Butcher guy's like one of THOSE people. And by "those" people, he meant the kind of people that purposely made it difficult for the young Branwen to work with them. And unfortunately, this happened more often than not.
"Huh, looks like hees files were true," One of the women sitting next to Frenchie spoke up with an accent noticeably similar to that of Frenchie's. ", he really does sound like he's growleeng when he grunts."
"I know right?!" Frenchie gleefully exclaimed as he looked to the woman who had spoken.
This same woman had fair skin and long smooth black hair that hung freely to the side and appeared to be wearing the same set of clothing as Annie January, camouflage Military attire and bulletproof vest and all. But her eyes are what stood out to Gerald the most. Her bright white irises completely contrasted with her dark pupils and giving a whole new meaning to aesthetically making your eyes pop.
"This is him? The man they call the bloody monster?" The other woman sitting on Frenchie's other side moved her hands around in the familiar ways of sign language as she looked him up and down. "He doesn't look like a monster."
From her looks alone, Gerald knew that this woman who had just signed was of Mistralian decent. She had the typical look most Mistralian women have. Slanted eyes, dark neck length hair, and fair skin. It also helped that she was visibly the shortest out of everyone here. She too was wearing the exact same uniform the other two women on board were wearing.
"Kid you've met Hughie's girl, now meet Frenchie's two." Butcher said as he gestured towards Frenchie and his so-called girls. "Go ahead Frenchie, introduce aaahr spice girls ter da legend."
"Ahll right." He said before putting an arm over the shoulders of the woman with the same accent as him. "First off, zise here ees Cherie. She's our best eenfeeltrahtahr and she's my ma Cherie sahmbre. Pun cahmpletely entended.
"Nice to offeecially meet you, Gerahld of Pahtch." The woman, Cherie, said with a small smile and nod to the young Branwen. "I look fahrwahrd to wahrkeeng weeth you."
"Likewise ma'am," Gerald answered back with a short nod.
"And ziss, " Frenchie then put his other arm over the shoulders of the Mistral woman beside him. ", is Kimiko. Now, dahn't be fooled by hair leettleness, " Frenchie followed up with a nod to the woman now known as Kimiko. ", she's ze fiercest one out of ahll of us here."
"Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you." Kimiko signed with a nod to the young Branwen before looking to Frenchie. "Hey!" She signed with one hand as she elbowed Frenchie to get his attention. And when he gave it, she gave him a look. "Translate for me." She signed. And he was quick enough on the uptake.
"Oh, uh...she said-"
"A pleasure to meet you too, ma'am." Gerald signed, stopping Frenchie and quickly gaining Kimiko's surprise and attention.
"Well, would yew look at that?" The bearded man that was Butcher, spoke up with an arched brow. "He even knows 'ow ter' hand sign." He finished, making Butcher and the others look to him as he pressed a few buttons on the pilot chair's armrest.
"But that's abaaaht enuff wiv da introducshuns." The black trench coat wearing man continued as metal shutters quickly began covering the Bull-Head's front windshields. "Now, we-and by extension you-have to get on wiv da mission." At this, the metal shutters had fully covered the windshields, leaving only the lights built-in within the Bull-Head as their light source. "So, listen up."
A beam of bright blue light shot out from the center of the Bull-Head's ceiling like a projector. And seconds later, a large table-sized holographic 3Dmodel of Remnant formed at where the blue light was shining.
Three-dimensional holographic projection? Gerald thought to himself, a little surprised, as he shifted his stance so that he was fully facing the floating holographic map of their world. And here I thought only Atlas had that level of advanced tech. Guess we're closing the gap with them more and more these days.
"Now 'ere's da deal." The bearded man sitting on the pilot seat started off. "For da past few months, Dust producshun in da fouhr Kingdoms 'as been laaahrin to an all-time low. So much so, that Mr. Bushy-White-Mustache up there in Atlas decided ter up da antie on Dust prices. And yew all 'ave dis ginger-twat ter thank." He pressed a few buttons on his armrest and a holographic projection of a smiling man spreading his arms wide like a showman appeared atop the map of their world. A man that everyone in the Bull-Head recognized right away.
"Yeah, that's right. Roman Torchwick. Number one most wan'ed criminal in all ov Remnant an' all-around pain in da ass." Butcher continued with a grimace that spoke of how he really felt about the fancy wearing criminal. "He's been goin' round da four kingdoms stealin' enough Dust to power an entire city and at best leaving orange-level collateral damage behind. What's mawer, 'e's been doin' all ov dis in cahoots with our rodent friends the White Fang." He clicked a button on the armrest and a holographic image of the White Fang symbol materialized next to the hologram of Torchwick. "Now, all ov dis 'as already been disclosed ter the general public. But what the common folks don't know, is that they've been swipin' mawer van just Dust."
Another series of button pressing by Butcher and the images of Roman and the White Fang insignia disappeared. And replacing them, were numerous still frame images of what appeared to be large mechanical parts and machinery being taken and embargoed by White Fang members. And noticeably in some of the images, Torchwick could be seen ordering around some suited individuals and in some, he could be seen looking on in observance at the White Fang members and the suited people as they did the heavy lifting.
Wait, are those... Gerald zeroed in on each of the images, face stoic and not betraying anything. They looked so familiar to him. The large metal pieces instantly reminding him of a certain rail vehicle. ...are those train parts?
"They've also been stealin' various train parts all over da world." Butcher said, inadvertently proving the young Branwen's intuition to be true. "And our intelligence says that with the materials Roman and company 'ave got, they can build an entire train if they 'aven't already. It'll be ugly lookin' as all 'ell, but it'll be operashunal. Or so they say." He shrugged as he once again pressed a series of buttons on the armrest. "Regardless, " He continued, the still frame images disappearing before the holographic map zoomed in on the Sanus continent. ", i' doesn't matter much as to WHAT they plan ter do wiv it, what really matters is WHERE they plan ter do it.
The hologram of Sanus magnified and focused on the continent's southeast corners. It was a place that was familiar to most and known by nearly all. The very first patch of land that Humanity had reclaimed but lost it once more not long after. The place that would forever serve as a morbid reminder for all of Remnant's history.
"And that's 'ere, Mountain Glenn." Butcher nodded at the projected holographic image of the once proud and prospering City. "Our saaahrces 'ave told us tha' they've been takin' all their stolen Dust an' train parts 'ere via da old an' once believed ter be unusable underground tunnel systems." He leaned back on his seat with arms spread wide and a smile that looked nowhere near friendly. "And as da VSF's best and finest, minus yew kid, " He added with a finger point to the young Branwen. But said young Branwen was too busy thinking about a major problem that was gradually becoming apparent more and more. ", it's aaahr job ter fly ova there and give those fuckers a good ol' spankin' in da arse."
"Now just hold on a minute." Gerald hurriedly asked up, drawing in everyone's attention. There was a sense of urgency in his naturally gravelly voice like he was fearing for something. Or quite possibly, for SOMEONE. "We're going to Mountain Glenn? Seriously?"
"No, " Butcher flippantly replied without so much as a pause. ", we're going to Mountain Glenn, IMMEDIATELY." And to further drive in his point, or maybe because he just wanted to sass Gerald even more than he already had, Butcher pointed towards the hologram of the said Mountain city while giving Gerald the same look an adult would give to a naive child. "You know, that place right there. The place where shi' 'i' da fan an' millions ov people died, rin' any bells?"
"YOU said that our targets were holed up somewhere beyond the outer rims of Sanus." Gerald pointed an accusing finger at Butcher.
"Yeah, I did say that. And tell me, Mountain Glenn is fuckin' where?" Butcher replied with an annoyed look.
"Mountain Glenn is even further than that!" Gerald corrected with an irritated growl mixed in with his voice as he moved his pointed finger to the hologram of Mount Glenn.
"Fuckin' semantics." The bearded man waved off.
"Yeah, exactly. Semantics. VERY IMPORTANT semantics." Lowering his raised hand, the young Branwen couldn't help but grit his teeth in annoyance.
"Why are you getting worked up about this, though?" Hughie Campbell asked and made Gerald snap his attention towards the man. "I-I mean if you don't mind me asking of course." He quickly added when he saw Gerald's red irises lock onto him.
The young Branwen grunted before looking back to Butcher. "I can't afford to be gone for more than a few hours. I need to be back home before this afternoon. And mountain Glenn's ways away, give or take a few hours AT LEAST, and that's not even counting the time we'll lose fighting our targets." He finished as he felt around his black leather utility belt, seemingly in search of something.
"If yaaahr pissin' abaaaht da time, it'll take us roughly less van two 'aaahrs ter get there." Butcher explained before giving the young Branwen a questioning look. "Why? What's gotten yaaahr knickers in a twist all ov a sudden?"
"You gaht sahmtheeng eempahrtahnt to do bahck at Patch?" Frenchie asked out of curiosity. "Because, no offense to you my friend, " He raised both of his hands in a "stop" gesture. ", ziss right here ees pretty eempahrtahnt too. Mahre so, even."
"Yeah, you even said how you couldn't think of a more important thing than dealing with the White Fang back at the Tavern." Mother's Milk added right after Frenchie. "Where the hell did all that talk go?"
Fuck. Cursing in his head, Gerald continued to feel around his belt. I really did say that, didn't I? Well damn shit, congratulations me, you just played yourself. Mentally berating himself some more, the dark leather armor wearing young man grumbled as he moved on from feeling around his belt to his armor.
"You don't get it, I..." Thinking his next set of words through, Gerald stopped feeling around his armor for the moment and sighed as he let his arms fall to the side. "...I had a..kind of a falling out with someone, all right? Shit's been tough between me and her for the past few days and it's going to get even shittier when she comes home and realizes I'm not there."
He couldn't risk telling them the whole truth, of course. VSF elites or not, these people were still strangers to him. And cynical as it may be, he was taught by a dusty old crow that ALL strangers have the same chance of being an enemy as they do being a potential ally. And besides, this was something of a personal thing. And matters of the family, stay within the family.
"And does dis ...SHE... 'appen ter be any ov yaaahr sisters?"
Gerald, for the briefest of seconds, had a look of mild shock on his face as he fully registered what Butcher had said. But soon after that, he regained his composure and acted naturally and admitted to nothing. Better to let them draw their own conclusions than confirming them himself. Damn. But I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. They probably have all of Vale's intelligence agencies at their beck and call. That didn't mean he was comfortable with the thought of Kingdom affairs looking him and his family up, though. I'll definitely need to talk to Qrow about this when I get back.
"Let me take a guess, it's da older one ain't it?" Butcher considered Gerald's silence as his answer. "Ah, so i' is." The bearded man smiled with a scratch to his chin. "She's a pretty one, I'll say that much."
Gerald couldn't hold back the disgusted look that made itself apparent on his face. By the Brothers' name. The young man unconsciously called out to his faith when he recognized the look Butcher had when he gave his comment on Yang. And once again, the beautiful light beckons another creep to come crawling out from the depths.
No matter how many times it occurred, is occurring, and will occur, Gerald will never come to terms with the thought of Yang being ogled at by men and, much to his shock, even women who're old as Qrow. To him, it just seemed so...off. He couldn't put what he felt into proper words, but he was sure of one thing. He did NOT like it. And he was even more certain that he'd never, ever, come to like it. Not on this life, or the countless next.
"But why da worry though?" Still having that smile that made the young Branwen's stomach turn, Butcher continued to ask. Oblivious to the inner thoughts Gerald had about him. "Does 'er flaaahr pot get all dried up when yew leave 'er alone awer something?" He asked before laughing at his own rather ill-mannered joke.
The young Branwen tried not to react to that. He really did. His late mother taught him that anger was something to be used, not something to be used by. That's why for most of his childhood, he spent it by helping Yang control her short temper and keep her from instigating unsanctioned fights rather than helping her finish them. And that's why it was near impossible to get a rise out of him. That's how deep the idea of "being the bigger person" was implanted into his psyche. People tried mocking him, calling him degrading names, challenging him to step up and such. Oh, he'd feel the anger boil up, rather quickly too, as it's only natural to feel anger. But his mother's words always stemmed the fury and helped calm him down.
But there were times that it did not. Times that a few unfortunate individuals, unfortunately, ended up saying one too many things that rubbed Gerald in the wrongest ways possible. And talking about his younger sisters in any way negatively was just one of those things.
"I'm sorry," Forcing a blank expression on his face, Gerald started walking closer towards the bearded man sitting on the pilot seat. It was at a slow pace and his steps were heavy. But the fact that he was walking in the first place with their aircraft moving at roughly 2.6 Mach speeds was nothing short of incredible. ", I think I'm starting to hear things, SIR."
Even without focusing their Auras to their eyes, the elites of the VSF could see Gerald's dark red Aura wafting from his body like steam coming off from an overheating engine. And not long after, the young Branwen was standing over Butcher and looking down on him. And Butcher, unfazed by the turn of events, looked back up at him in kind with a dull expression. One could say he looked bored, even. "I could've sworn I heard you say something about my little sister's privates. But it might just be my mind playing tricks on me. There's no way you'd actually do something as crass as making fun of my precious little sister's womanhood, RIGHT SIR?"
As Gerald's Aura increased in volume, the VSF elites felt a great weight weighing them down even more on their seats. It wasn't the same sensation as the pull of gravity. No, this was something else entirely. It was a sensation that they had already felt before but never to this extent.
This is- Hughie, Annie, Mother's Milk, Frenchie, Cherie and Kimiko all came to the same conclusion at the same time.
-the kid's Aura Pressure. And of course, so did Butcher. He wasn't their leader and second in command of the VSF for nothing. Bugger me it's got one 'ell ov a weight to it too. He was already feeling pressed down on his seat but he didn't break eye contact with the young Branwen. In fact, he smiled back at the young man. A monster wiv monstrous Aura. Now that's just a fuckin' life 'ack right there."
"Yew ever 'eard ov a joke befawer, kid?" Butcher scoffed with an amused grin. "Hum on now, there's no need ter be so-"
Gerald cut the bearded man off by perching his left hand, palm up, on Butcher's right shoulder. And the weight it had was nothing Butcher could've ever expected a simple hand would have. The fuck is tha' hand ov his made of? Anvils awer some shit? He gripped the armrests of the pilot seat he was sitting on and used them as his means of bracing himself against the combined weight of Gerald's Aura Pressure and the heaviness the young man's hand had.
"If being a dick to others around you makes your's hard, then I won't kink shame your fetish." The young Branwen's voice was calm and even. His face relaxed. But the way Gerald was looking down on him reminded Butcher of the piercing red eyes of the Grimm. "But if you bad-mouth my family ever again, they'll never find what's rest of you. Sir."
"Yew know yer freatenin' a 'igh rankin' military officer, right?" Despite the weight straining his body, Butcher calmy asked back up at the young man.
"And you really think that fancy rank of yours gives you power, over me?" Gerald replied.
Now mark well, Gerald isn't the type to shove his boasts down people's throats. All achievements brought by his own power was never spoken highly by his own lips. The reputation he had built up was something that was done without his influence and it was especially something he didn't want to come to fruition. But right now, the rage coursing through him was clouding his judgment and thus he was unable to temper his words.
And these words that slipped from the young man's mouth made Butcher's blood boil.
There was an energy in the air now. A shift in the atmosphere. No longer was Gerald's Aura the predominating sensation. Now there was something else mixing in. It was another's Aura. It wasn't strong enough to be seen by the naked eye like Gerald's. But this rivaling Aura could still be felt by everyone all the same.
"Well-well, arent we ge'in' cocky?" Gripping his hands down hard on the armrests, Butcher glared up at the young Branwen. "Yew ought ter respect yaaahr superiors, kid. 'Ow's abaaaht I teach yew some manners, 'm?"
"Butcher!" Annie January, the only one in their team who wasn't interested in seeing their boss go toe to toe with a legend, called out for the bearded man's attention. "Get your shit together, old man! Swallow that pride of yours, apologize to the kid while you're at it, and FOCUS!"
A few tense seconds passed with Gerald and Butcher staring each other down with neither of them looking like they had no intention whatsoever of backing down. Their Aura's, one seen and the other not, mingling in the air. But on the 12th second of their little deadlock of wills, Butcher breathed out a sigh and grunted. "Fine." Straining his muscles and refusing to break eye contact from the younger man, Butcher shrugged off the heavy hand of Gerald from his right shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean ter offend." With an agitated look, Butcher weakly threw his hands up as he calmed his Aura. "There, yew 'appy now?" If there was ever an award for the most insincere apology ever made, Butcher's would've won it with next to little contest.
With the rage simmering down more and more as the seconds ticked by, Gerald's sense of rational reasoning came back. And with it, the worrying realization of how close he was to ruining the Hunt.
Shit. I almost ended up fighting with my employer. With his face offering only a twitch of annoyance at the prospect of ALMOST breaking a Hunting rule, Gerald grunted and stepped back from Butcher. Not my fault, Well, technically it kinda was. , this prick's making it hard for me to like him. And with the way he keeps looking at me like that, he's just openly inviting me to duke it out. Another twitch of his eye as he turned around and began walking back to his original spot near the Bull-Head's doorway.
Silently, Gerald passed by the rest of the members of Butcher's team. And through his peripheral vision, he could see that their eyes were set on him as he went. He didn't blame them. He'd stare at someone too if they walked up to their boss with the intent of violence. When the young man finally reached the spot near the sealed doorway, he decided that now it'd be better to sit down on one of the seats than having to stand for two more hours. And sit down he did. Choosing the closest seat to the sealed door, he plopped down on it with a soft grunt. And without even putting on his seat belts, the young Branwen simply crossed his arms and decided to stare at the Bull-Head's metal ceiling.
Gerald had decided that for the remainder of their flight, he was going to just keep looking off into space rather than look at Butcher and his team. That way, he'd have less of a chance of ending up doing and saying something that would damage not only his own reputation but the reputation of the Uni-Guild.
"Hmph." Scoffing, Butcher shook his head as he looked at the now seated form of Gerald Branwen. "As I was sayin' befawer bein' rudely interrupted, " He directed his gaze back towards the holographic image of Mountain Glenn. ", Torchwick's forces an' da White Fang along wiv all da goods they've stolen fer da past 'alf year are all 'ere in Mountain Glenn." The hologram map's point of focus moved to the east to show a flat valley brimming with large trees. "Our LZ'll be 'ere, 10 clicks east off from da ci'y ter avoid detecshun. We'll meet up wiv da rest ov da teams an' we'll go on foot from there. Understood?"
All the members of his team gave silent nods as their answers. They had already gone through multiple mission debriefings in the past. There was no need for words. Whatever info came to Butcher's attention, all of his team members were certain that it was concrete and hard proof to back it up. He was a foul-mouthed bastard with a "fuck you" persona, but he was their leader. And they had full trust in him. Even when at times he would be a huge pain in their asses.
"Oi! You got all that, brat?" Butcher called out to the young Branwen still staring up at the ceiling.
"Yeah-yeah," Gerald grunted out his reply, face tight and still refusing to look at anything but the ceiling. ", I got it."
"Good, then." The thickly bearded man that was Butcher dryly appraised. "Si' tight all ov you. We'll be there in an 'aaahr an' a bit." And with that said, he pressed a number of buttons on the armrest controls before turning his chair to face back front.
As the bright blue light projecting the holograms disappeared, the metal shutters that covered the front windshields of the Bull-Head began to open and allow the natural light of the sun to brighten the interior even more. At the same time, Butcher's team members tried to follow his orders of "sitting tight" by making themselves comfortable in their seats. Understandably, they were still wary of the young man sitting far behind them. So despite their efforts, they were as tense and ready for anything. To the point where they increased their Aura output out of instinct.
As for Gerald, he could sense their Aura's, Butcher's included, flaring up at the ready. Again, he didn't blame them for making such a decision. He did give them quite the scare just a minute ago. So instead of answering in kind by flaring up his own Aura, an act that he was sure would be deemed as hostile intent to Butcher and his team, he sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back on his seat.
Calming thoughts, Gerald. He let out another sigh softly. Calming thoughts. And without so much as exerting the tiniest of efforts, his mind formed the image of his home back on the island of Patch.
He recalled the familiar sensation of his boots stepping on the sands of their front yard, the coldness of their front door's metal knob, the sound of Zwei's adorable barking as he walked inside their home's hall towards the living room, the smell of Ruby's fresh-baked cookies wafting all the way from the kitchen, and most of all, the sight of beautiful lilac eyes and bright yellow hair welcoming him back.
Unconsciously, the young man smiled with his eyes still closed as his facial features relaxed.
But through the calm that was quickly filling both his heart and mind, he felt something else. No, it was more of an afterthought. So small it was compared to the images his mind was projecting that he instantly put it aside. But still...
He felt like he had forgotten about something.
ONWARD.