R.W.3.Y.: All Fairy Tales End
Chapter 1; the Fox and the Hound (Hunt for Watts) [Part III]
Characters: Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, and Yang Xiao Long, etc.
Ships: White Rose, Bumblebee
Description:
RW3Y, the amazing art by Dishwasher1910 who has given me permission to write this, after the Salem Crisis RWBY went a many myriad of directions with their lives, but maintained close ties with each other and their friends. This is their story, their continuation, the end to their fairytale.
Disclaimer:
Hey this art belongs to Dishwasher1910 or Bach Do, thank them for giving me inspiration. RWBY belongs to Roosterteeth and Monty OUm, may he rest in peace. The storylines, and OCs are the only things beside new vehicles that belong to me. Don't sue me Roosterteeth!
"there will be no victory in strength." -Salem
Kingdom of Mistral, S.R.E.D. FOB, Medical Wing
The light nearly blinded Blake as she struggled against the weight of her eyelids, not that it was anything compared to the simultaneous weightlessness and heavy fog in her head. Her body felt sluggish, slow to react. She could vaguely feel something pinching in her wrist, like someone simply holding constant pressure there. Then there was the pins and needles shooting up her legs and making them almost completely numb. Blake's entire body simply felt horribly off, but she couldn't pin anything down. Her mind was still far too gone to collect the scattered memories and events forcing themselves to the forefront into a cohesive story that tried explaining what was happening.
The harsh lights above her were bright and unyielding, like as if she were trying to stare in the sun every time she so much as looked up. There was a constant, incessant beeping pervading her thoughts and forcing her back to the land of the living, keeping her from drifting off with its annoying and unending tone. Each one of its beeps felt like someone stabbing a knife directly into her brain. All of this paled in comparison to her throat; even breathing was a painful chore, it was like someone had decided to use her windpipe as a punching bag and then bear hugged the bag to death instead of hitting it. Blake had tried to choke out some words, but had yet to manage anything more than a pained grunt. Not that it mattered, there appeared to be no one around listening. That is until she hears rapid, beating, and heavy footfalls approaching the room. The white walls seemed to bounce the sound, making it disorienting for the poor overly sensitive Faunus' hearing.
"Blake!" shouts a voice as sweet as chocolate chip cookies before a hand latches tightly onto her own. Blake was about to force herself into a sitting position when a hand lightly pushed her chest. Raising her amber eyes she meets Weiss, her white hair partially disheveled and her clothes creased in an odd pattern, like someone had hugged her for hours straight. But Weiss' eyes held concern, and that was enough to stop even Blake's stubborn will.
"Take it easy, you've been out for nearly eight to ten hours. That monster really took it out of you. Doctors say you'll be fine though, your Aura should have you up here shortly, and with some painkillers and a day or so of rest you'll be back to talking as if nothing had ever happened," Weiss answers the unasked question in Blake's eyes. Weiss' hand slowly covered Blake's still free hand.
"We've been trying to find Yang, get her to come say hi but we haven't seen her since I fell asleep last…" Ruby's voice trails off as the brunette with her crimson dyed locks finally leans into Blake's view. Blake tries to turn her head and Weiss once again places a hand down, cutting her off.
"You need to rest for another hour or so, then the pain medications will kick in and you should be able to get up without any issue," Weiss orders. Turning her back to Blake she steps out of view. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to make a call."
Weiss gets outside of the room, the hiss sounding behind her assuring her that her two teammates wouldn't be able to listen in.
"Liath, you and I need to talk now."
Kingdom of Mistral, Fireteam Metal RV point
The buildings were broken, collapsed in upon each other and a sea of black was slowly encircling them. Metal Three's assault rifle pulsed burst after burst, each set of rounds finding their marks within another Beowulf, Creeper, or Ursa. The smoke would have made it nearly impossible to see were it not for the Ironclad's advanced sensor suite. The periodic scans highlighted the soulless beasts as they sprinted forwards. Dust rose from every single puff of their feet as the smoke swirled around them, like shadows in the fast approaching night the Grimm struck at the soldiers wherever and whenever they could. A shout and scuffling, someone scrambling across the ground, and a quickly cut off scream; it was all that could be heard over the din of automatic fire. The pounding of footsteps, the crunch of bone and metal, the smell of blood rising in Metal Three's nostrils, the taste of a metallic substance and ashy smoke on his tongue. A growl pierces his immediate surroundings and he spins. The rifle is too heavy, it's long frame unwieldy, so it drops to the dirt below as Metal Three pulls a dagger from his belt.
The Grimm closes the distance, its shape is rough and hazey, barely visible through the growing smog of dust, ash, and smoke. An outline, of an Ursa or a Beowulf, the armoured soldier drops low, sweeping his leg out and a sharp yowl of pain is his reward as he scrambles atop the beast only about half a metre taller than he and raises the dagger. A crackle of electricity sounds and a golden-yellow lightning arcs along Metal Three's arm striking the dagger and igniting its blade with a baleful yellow voltaic glow. The Ironclad armour speeds his downward strike driving the dagger home into the beast's neck. It howls in answer as the smell of burning fur reaches Metal Three's nose and the beast spasms. Then a powerful force, like a sack of bricks slams into Metal Three's side.
Even with an 850 pound exoskeletal steel alloyed armour the Grimm managed to toss Metal Three a good five metres. The Ironclad groaning as a popping in his shoulder reaches his ears when he hits ground and skids another two metres. Pain reverberates like a fire across his arm, up his chest, and along his neck. Growling in return Metal Three forces his feet under him. His right hand still clenched in a vice like grip around the glowing dagger. His left arm hangs, useless as he struggles to his knees. The sound of something scraping against the dirt causes him to raise his eyes. The scarlet eyes of the Alpha Beowulf glittering with their orange centres, its maw is covered in some kind of blackish red liquid, slowly dripping over its teeth and falling to the ground, staining the dirt. The sound of crunching smashes through the din as Metal Three looks over, watching Jenkins' Dust imbued hammer strike home on an Alpha Creeper, black goo splattering the rocks. Beside the hulking soldier another figure in slightly smaller, but no less capable Ironclad armour drives a sword into a standing Ursa's gut. The clatter of assault rifle fire fades low in the background, punctuated by gleeful roars and bright white flashes and speedily muted screams.
The Beowulf struck its claws on the dirt, its eyes still focused on Metal Three. His Ironclad was blaring at him, the HUD showing his body with a red indicator near his shoulder. The power levels on the right were running at two percent, and the last attack that left his dagger charged hadn't helped matters. Something warm and sticky flowed across his left arm, between the skin and the body suit. His entire body felt like a lead weight as he raised his head to answer the Beowulf's challenge.
Its claws struck across the ground one final time, and it pushed off with its legs. The shadow leaps through the air only for a streak of fiery, golden yellow, light to strike like a meteor. The ground shudders beneath Metal Three and clods of dirt slam into his armour, his forearm protectively covering his helmet encased head. His eyes widen underneath his helmet and his jaw drops as a woman, clad in a tan jacket cut short and swaying with the suddenly calm air. The smoke was gone, blasted away, a massive crater in the ground and a host of black goo all that remains of the Beowulf who'd been charging Metal Three. A crash breaks the silence, as a building takes its final strain and crumbles off to one side. The Grimm turn their blood covered bone masks, eyes letting off a heat like a laser beam as they focus on the woman who had killed the Alpha. The Mistralian Guards and S.R.E.D. soldiers, even the other Ironclads were staring at the woman before them.
The muscles on her exposed back were taunt, her arms held at her sides wreathed in flame, two long strands of hair slowly falling back to a normal position. She raises her right arm and the lower half of the limb splits apart. Shining under the light of the dying sun bleeding through the near broken smoke clouds. Then like a physical embodiment of fire the newcomer flashed forward hitting the first Grimm so hard that it skipped across the ground like a flat rock over water. Then the Grimm rushed in like water down the drain. Their claws never seemed to reach their mark, she moved faster than any normal human eye could track. Ducking beneath, leaping over, and striking every Beowulf with a skull shattering fist before a resounding bang fills the air throwing her out of the fray. Her boots crunch in the ground next to Metal Three. She glances down with those gleaming crimson irises.
"Don't just sit there Ironclad. Get on your feet!" Her voice is like punch in the gut, and then she's off. Heading straight into the group of at least thirty still moving Beowulves. Grunting Metal Three's vision shifts upwards. His legs groan at him, pain spiking along his body. Everything had a dull ache and his arm felt like a heavy molten lava. Pushing it aside, blocking out everything except the Beowulves, Metal Three moves forward.
His feet create divots in the ground, kicking up dirt and dust. The first Grimm is less than a foot from him when it's ear cocks to the side and its head turns. Metal Three's fist impacts just above the Grimm's eye and a loud crack cuts through the air. His armoured hand had stopped, then moved in slightly, and the Grimm was skidding. It's claws dig in and it slides to a stop about two metres away. Those burning eyes pierce Metal Three's armour, stripping away the steell, Dust, and muscle. The Ironclad has other ideas though. Switching the glowing yellow dagger to his limp left arm and reaching onto his belt, Metal Three pulls forth a thick sword, just under a metre in length. An explosion resounds to the right of the pair, basking them in the searing light of the fire. The hot embers strike Metal Three's armour plates, leaving light orange hints upon it. The Beowulf simply shrugs off the embers, it's fur singed at its tips and a tiny bit of smoke rising from its form.
Metal Three takes a step to the right. The Beowulf answers in a step left. The process repeats. The Ironclad takes two forward, the Beowulf two back. The monster's head cocks to one side, it's higher left ear twitching. Then without a growl in anger, it turns and scampers off, like a scared dog. The soldier replaces his Gladius to its place on the back of his belt. Then, removes a Dust cartridge from the hilt of his dagger, the weapon losing its lighting and the cartridge taking it. The Ironclad slides the dagger away and puts the cartridge in a pouch.
"You did good Ironclad," comes a forced cheery voice. Metal Three turns, straighten his posture as much as his injured shoulder will allow. "I'm assuming you're Fireteam Metal? What's your status soldiers?"
"Three dead Ironclads, one downed Turtle, a number of close air support combat craft gone, and at least twenty-five Mistralian and Atlesian casualties that we can confirm, probably more we can't," Metal Three answers. Placing a hand onto his shoulder, pain spiking through him at the touch, Metal three shoves with all the force his Dust imbued muscles can manage. A wet pop splits through the air, and even the woman's face pulls tight. "Honestly, when I asked for reinforcements I didn't think they'd send a Huntress."
"Well you've got one. So what's the plan?"
Kingdom of Mistral, S.R.E.D. FOB, Command Centre
Liath stares at Weiss, like his commanding officer had suddenly grown a second head. His jaw hangs open and his weight is rested heavily upon the desk next to him.
The room is devoid of bustling forms, the clicking of keys, and the flutter of papers. The temperature is low, leaving much to be desired on the heating. Weiss is straight backed and looking at Liath's hunched shoulders. Ruby is just off to the right, her eyes focused on the glowing red, blue, and green holograms on one of the tables, a lone man watching just as intently, a hand to his ear, while the other flitted from one side of the tablet to the other.
"If what you're saying is true Colonel…"
"It is Agent. Where is she?"
"I sent her to take down Watts. She was the only Hunter I had left besides you three who hadn't been deployed. With Yang and Fireteam Metal taking out Typhon I figured we could end this threat two ways. Removing Typhon from the board would eliminate the current situation, but catching Watts would end it permanently."
"Alright then, Ruby are you and Blake combat ready?" Weiss turns and stares at her two old teammates. Blake's head jerks in a curt nod, and Ruby gives Weiss a glare.
"Don't say it that way. And I was born ready." Ruby and Blake spin on their heels and the door whooshes behind them.
"If you come across her-"
"If I find her Liath, she's going to jail or she dies. I'm done playing games with my loved ones lives." Weiss' hand falls onto the hilt of Myrtenaster. The Schnee stalks out of the building, her lips pulled into a tight line.
Kingdom of Mistral, Watts' Laboratory
Watts' eyes track the shadowy black thing lazily floating inside the white walled room behind the glass. Its single glowing red eye drifting across the room. In the corner was its play thing, the corpse of one of the female soldiers Watts had a Beowulf bring into the lab. His work had progressed well. Improving upon the original Grimm designs had been tedious and, at first unsuccessful, but eventually the work bore fruit. Since his initial breakthrough Watts had found it easier each and every time he needed to repurpose an existing Grimm form to his needs. Now though he knew he would not get to see all of the creations within his own mind.
They had called him mad, insane, ridiculously careless to believe that Grimm could be contained, let alone controlled. Now a Geist, improved by his own hands simply waits, hovering in the air like a chess piece in need of command. They would be proved wrong, but yet again this was not his position to see, to experience first hand as his former colleagues were taken by his latest creation. They had done this, brought it upon themselves with their stringent and unmoving views. They stood in the way of science, and now evolution would be their reckoning. There was but one piece of the puzzle left, the final act that would bring these curtains to a close, and time was running out. Yet Watts knew what he wanted, or at least he believed he did, and like all Humans he somehow feared what even his intellect could not comprehend. Running a finger along the glass pane, his gloves squeaking over its surface.
"You'll be nice yes? When it's all said and done? No more toying with your food?" Watts voice fell upon deaf ears, the Geist not even moving a fraction in response. "I thought as much. Well I hope you take good care of our guests. Grootslang will be coming by shortly… it should be over by then though…"
Was there truly no other way? Watts' boots clicked down the hallway. I, the one who mastered Grimm, cannot find another solution? Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Science must always come first, and this is simply the last phase of my long in progress experiments. What I know will be the difference between life and death. A quiet hiss followed and the door shut, clamping together like irons on an old prisoner.
Kingdom of Mistral, S.R.E.D. Defensive Line Psi
Deep grey smoke billowed from the hollowed out shell of a building, its beautiful blue paint melted, peeled, and charred like the wounds of a burn. Small pockets of flame flapped with the wind their flames reaching for anything they might consume, and finding nothing more. The sky was dark with the ash of destruction and smell of rotting broiled meat. The clatter of sporadic gunfire and growls of beasts drift along the air as Yang steps up to the line, it's soldiers facing the wrong way.
"It blew right through us, 50 cal, rockets… didn't do a thing," pipes up a woman in S.R.E.D. field armour. The once gleaming white plates now covered in sooty grime, muddy brown dirt, and black goo intermixed with a deep crimson splattered here and there. Her eyes and her rifle are trained on the towering mass of inky, pulsing, obsidian liquid rolling over the plains. In its wake Grimm of all different shapes and sizes, none capable of boasting anything remotely close to the monstrosity, at least five times the size of a public bus, follow.
The rest of the world is slowly drowned out as a roar of thundering engines hovers overhead. The defending troops and their new arrivals turn skywards as an Atlesian Heavy Transport Vehicle (HTV) comes to station directly off the defensive line's old forward. A massive chunk, chunk, chunk reverberates into the soldiers' bones and what appears to be a long tube with legs falls to the ground.
It smashes into the dirt, the nearby buildings shuddering at its arrival, and the soldier covers her head to avoid the kicked up dust. A Viper pulls up and Metal Three steps down off its boarding ramp, a case about as long as the Ironclad's height and at least as tall as the man's forearm. As his feet touch down his grip on the case slips ever so slightly, and his posture is nowhere near as erect as it had been almost nine hours. Jenkins and Alice follow shortly. Yang and the Atlesian soldier, as well as a Mistralian guard walk up.
"Where's the rest of your forces?" Metal Three grunts, rolling his left shoulder, a fiery pain alighting with every single fraction of a movement.
"Wasted Ironclad," answers the woman.
"And we will be too, Sir, if we don't get the Hell out of here." The Mistralian tries to shove past Jenkins and the hulking, near three metre tall Ironclad drops a hand in his way.
"You hit?"
"N-no Sir."
"Then listen up! During the Salem Crisis we didn't have any fancy-schmanzy artillery pieces. We had sticks! Two sticks, and a rock for the whole platoon - We had to share the rock!" Jenkins bellows. The Mistralian instinctively backs away. "Buck up Boy, you are one very lucky soldier. Now man that gun and give us covering fire."
"What are we going to do about that Sir?" the woman points out at the mass of darkness moving like a snail.
"You give us coordinated covering fire alongside Defensive Line Omega, we'll take care of the horde, and leave Typhon for her. Grimm are tough, but they aren't invincible," Metal Three slings the huge case onto his back and starts walking. The soldiers and guards give Yang a sidelong glance, her eyes burning crimson like the fires that had nearly consumed the entirety of this village.
-S.R.E.D. Defensive Line Omega-
The shunk of slotting parts tapers off and Metal Three heft's the prototype weapon onto his shoulder. A whir of screws and a few tugs and Metal Three feels some slap his back plate. Raising his helmeted head Metal Three levels the flashing HUD reticle with Typhon, the Grimm having made metres worth of progress since their arrival. Yet still the beast towers over the Ironclads. It's shadow has long since blotted out the shattered moon, the smoke having not reached the defensive line.
A heavy clunking rattles the armoured soldiers and then a mechanical whine cracks through the relative silence. The buildings creak in answer, and the soldiers share tight lipped looks.
Yang steps up next to the group of Ironclads. Jenkins hefting a launcher of some kind roughly Yang's height in length. Alice slaps a fresh magazine into her rifle, and the bolt clacks shoving a round into the chamber. The wind pulls at Yang and her jacket flutters, her two strands of hair swaying with the winds current. And with the wind came that stale scent of decay, like roadkill left in the sun for a week.
"Everyone ready?" In answer an Ursa roars and thunders forward beating a tempo into the dirt. Without a second's hesitation Metal Three and the other soldiers open fired.
Kingdom of Mistral, Forest near Dr. Watts' Laboratory
Ruby, Weiss, and Blake, all clad in their respective colours and armed to the teeth step off the Viper dropship. The thrum of its drives quickly fade into the darkness and the three Huntresses are surrounded by nothing but the chirp of crickets and rumbles of the forest.
They rush forward, diving through the black between the trees and straight for the coordinates Liath had given them. The sounds of the forest seemed to die as they closed in, until nothing but silence remains. The group of three reaches a single cement piece jutting forth from the ground, a metal door with rivets like old military installations, upon one side of its rectangle.
"Back again are we dearies?" Cutting through the still air. Immediately the three Huntresses put their backs together and brandish their weapons. A hiss, then a slithering whisper, and another hiss. The darkness seemed to swallow the light of the broken moon. "I thought you'd have learned from last time… I do not give ground."
A deep, throaty, hiss resonates from the surrounding woods and a black scaled hand reaches out. It's thick fingers crack the wood as it grips the tree trunk, each one of its fingers topped with a claw as long as Ruby's index finger and it glints in the minimum of light available. The next hand, then another set of arms, each one wrapped around a tree. The muscles hidden underneath it's scales flex and a white Grimm mask, blood red markings painting it slides out of the shadows.
It's snake-like mouth parts wide, revealing large pointy fangs and a black hole at its centre. A burst of movement catches in the Huntresses' eyes as flaps of skin pull up like a Cobra. It's arms spread wide and with a deep breath it releases a wail like a banshee.
The air is pushed away, blasting into the three Huntresses and nearly knocking them from their footing. Ruby's metal feet dig divots in the dirt, as she slides across the ground. Weiss stabs Myrtenaster anchoring herself as the air catches and grabs at her clothes. Blake summons a clone.
Jumping out of the clone, leaving the shell right as the wind grabs it Blake's foot connects with the clone's head and she feels the pressure ease off as she slips out of the wail's range. Her ears twitch and her eyes dart from the Grimm in front of Ruby and Weiss to the beat of wings. Buzzing in a beeline for Blake were a group of Lancers.
They bore six, instead of four, wings, each beating faster than her eyes could track. Their exoskeleton's were a grimy, dirt covered cream, like recently dug up bones, with oily black armour shifting as Blake tracked the abdomen moving up.
Faster than a speeding bullet the stinger lances out swiping across Blake's arm. Pulsing her Aura Blake twists, letting the pulse take the brunt of the hit Blake gasps as the air is forced from her lungs and she feels gravity pulling her back. Her eyes sweep up to a Lancer which had come down from above. Twisting out of the way and popping off another shadow clone Blake rolls coming up with her pistol drawn and firing off.
The bang of her bucking handgun is punctuated by the whirl of Myrtenaster as Weiss flits through the vials of Dust. A click resounds and Ruby steps forward, barring the new Grimm access to Weiss. Clanks and thunks fill the air and Ruby twirls pulling Crescent Rose out in its full glory. The scythe's obsidian blade glints in the minimal light as Ruby takes a step towards the Grimm. It answers by striking forward. Petals begin to swirl on the winds. The world slows. Ruby sees its arms. Crescent Rose spins. The world comes crashing back. The Grimm's arms locked with Crescent Rose's haft, Ruby feeling her muscles strain under the weight. Then out of nowhere her world flips. The dark sky filled with clouds seems serene, but here on the world it was anything but.
Weiss raises Myrtenaster, leveling the gleaming red blade with the new Grimm's chest. A crack fills the air and a blinding light streaks from the tip of the rapier slamming into the Grimm's armoured chest. A pain filled roar thunders from its lips as it clutches a smoking burning black hole in the centre of its form. Ruby spins off the ground, nothing but a red blur and collection of rose petals. Her swipes catch the Grimm's arms but the blade stops dead upon them.
Its gleaming eyes narrow on Ruby and it grabs the haft of the Huntress's beloved weapon. Shifting forward without warning Crescent Rose is ripped from Ruby's grip and the Grimm catches her throat and tosses her aside. The flaps flip out once more.
"Poor choices Miss Rose. I had hoped you would know better. Perhaps one of your friends will provide a worthier challenge," the voice echoes from the Grimm's mouth. It rushes Weiss, sending the Huntress off balance as she brings her rapier to deflect and parry at increasing speed, her arm shuddering with every hit.
Blake turns swapping her pistol for Gambol and swiping through the wing of one of the Lancers as it comes by. A pained clicking is added to the chorus of the fight and it smashes into the ground. The Faunus turns pulling out her pistol and leveling it with another of the Lancers. Pain spears Blake's arm and a half shout forces past her bruised voice box, making her throat's ache a sharp stabbing. Glaring at the blood flowing from her torn sleeve and the bone stinger embedded in the ground, Blake rounds on the Lancer. Her sidearm bucks in her hand as bullets land hit after hit, crack after crack upon the Lancer's bone mask. Clattering at her and twisting its head quickly the Lancer continues its dive, but a bullet finds a mark. Like glass hitting the ground one of the bullets shatters the Lancer's Grimm mask, and the glow in its eyes dies.
Wisps of black acridic smoke fill the air as Blake wages her war. Behind her though, something is brewing. A clang, overshadowed by gunfire and roars, resounds and the metal door creaks on its hinges. Ruby glances at it as a form speeds from the blackness. Pulsing her Semblance Ruby gathers Crescent Rose and brings the weapons haft up, blocking a bone blade milimetres from her face. The new contender is pale and covered in some dark gunky crimson. Its eyes glow like embers of a dying fire and the arm resting on Ruby's weapon is only bone after the elbow. Its teeth are sharp and covered in wet saliva, its breath smelling of raw meat and poor flossing. It lets loose a wet spit flinging roar, the burning glow of its eyes burning brighter as it does so. Some of the water strikes Ruby's face and on reflex she shoves the beast away, slapping at her face to get the liquid off. As she regains her composure Ruby stares at the new thing's face. It has to be a Grimm, but it has no easily discernible Grimm mask. Its jaw is held on by a few fleshy strings that look close to coming apart, and its entire nose is missing. Its left arm is clutching tightly at a long metal thing that the darkness shrouds, while its right ends in a gleaming pointed cream coloured spike of bone. Its chest splits apart, the ribs acting like a second set of teeth for a mouth in its gut, a single fiery red eye gazing out upon the world from within the bloody, rotting mass of flesh.
Ruby struts forward spinning Crescent Rose around her. Creating a blender. The Grimm charged. Its eyes flitted as fast as Ruby moved, and it ducked the blade time after time, working its corpse into Ruby's range. Coming up nearly atop the reaper it gurgles in delight before a schink cuts the din. Slowly the Grimm's broken head, blood trailing from its burning eyes, peers downward at the semi collapsed Scythe. The blade had been behind it, or at least that's what the Geist had thought. Then smoke pours from the orifices of the corpse and the falls in two, the torso one way, and the legs the other.
Weiss shouts as her footing is pushed out from under her and she slides over the ground. Turning her eyes with an icy focus and narrowed, scrunched, brows. A whir slips through the air and Weiss steps forward, lunging out and slamming her blade into the ground. The Grimm releases a hiss its arms crossing over its chest, Its head ducking down like a turtle, and its tail moving between the blade and itself. Slowly one of the red eyes peaks out seeing nothing had happened. Its arms move, the ground erupts. Bursting forth like the break of a volcano an icy wall as sharp as an axe blade slices up through the air. The Grimm howls in pain. Weiss gasps and her knees shudder, stabbing Myrtenaster into the ground the Huntress keeps her footing, crystalline eyes locked on the smoking tail before her.
Blake swipes downward and the Lancer's head tumbles across the ground, quickly smoking and disappearing into thin air. Turning she examines the clearing. Its lovely field of grasses and wildflowers had been torn up, ripped apart, and burned, frozen, os sliced out of existence. It was like a group of bandits had decided the forest did not deserve its serene peace, and ended it. The fresh bloom of honey smelling flowers no longer wafted on the breeze, instead only ashy smoke. Ruby was staring at a mass of pale and red that Blake couldn't make out, and Weiss was holding herself up on her side of the ice wall. Ruby glances at her teammates and heads for the door, the other two Huntresses quickly follow her.
Kingdom of Mistral, S.R.E.D. Defensive Line Omega
Metal Three's fist collides with another Creeper's head, the skull smashing inwards and leaving his gauntlet covered even further in the black gooey substance within these Grimm. Pulling his right hand and stabalising the barrel of the long rail gun attached to his shoulder Metal Three kneels and braces his left arm on his leg.
"Rail Gun firing in three… two… one… Mark!" The barrel splits and blue lightning curls along the barrel, a high pitched whine emanating from the whiring motor before Metal Three's hearing is cut out and a bang as loud as an engine revving pierces the melodic din of the firefight around him. The large round spins through the air, cutting a swath through the wind itself. It's heavy mass strikes Typhon in the side of its forward mass causing the black goo to splash outwards. Then the core of the round burns and ignites. An explosion rips through Typhons oily mass of liquid like flesh. A pressure wave throws the splatter of sludge into the air, dousing some of the nearby Grimm. "Reloading!"
Jenkins steps up and follows the rail guns round up with a rocket. Expanding the whole in Typhon's side as fire at five hundred Kelvin. A roar of anguish and pain erupts from the beast's blood covered teeth. A golden blur shoots past the two Ironclads and an inferno of a woman hurtles into the whole.
Yang slams her fist into Typhon's exposed supports, the glasslike structures of ooze not melting of their own volition. The Huntress' presence within Typhon causes the massive Grimm to shudder and roar, the bellow echoing and bouncing off the rooms serving to nearly deafen Yang. Biting her lip tightly so that blood leaks out from beneath her teeth Yang twists and slams her fist into another of the supports. Once more the walls of the beast's insides shake, shudder, and contract quickly and without warning. Its howl blasting like a pressure wave. The light within the darkness was starting to fade and Yang through her arms to her side, the glowing orange orb on her mechanical arm pulsing before a jet of flame pours from its split pieces and Yang jumps through the closing whole.
The Huntress roles as she hits the ground turning and smashing a Beowulf unlucky enough to have tried to get the jump on her. Celica buck against her arm as a Creeper tries to take advantage of its comrades demise. Black smoke peels off of Yang's torn jacket and one of her long strands of hair is missing roughly half its length. Her crimson eyes gave off heat and her hair seemed to be wreathed in flames.
Pumping her legs and rushing out of the thinning horde directly beneath Typhon Yang skids to a halt next to Metal Three. Her eyes lock with the faltering Ironclad's near black covered armour. A bright scarlet leaked out from between the plates on his left arm. The smoke blocked vision with the defensive line behind them, keeping the soldiers out of Typhon's, and their own sight.
"What happened? I thought my time was supposed to be larger, not smaller?" Yang turns and watches as the black goo stitches itself back together on Typhon's exposed side.
"We were wrong… It's… adjusting to our attacks," Metal Three grunts as he struggles out of a kneeling position, his legs trembling. Turning on a dime and drawing a pistol off his belt the Ironclad puts four rounds into the Ursa Minor that had snuck up on them. Yang takes the second to bash in the head of yet another Creeper. "We'll… need the artillery cannons after all."
Jenkins spins pulling a Dust imbued hammer out of the ground and swinging the weapon like a bat he takes out another group of Beowulves, the beasts trying to force their way into the Ironclad's circle.
"Jenkins. Call for artillery on Typhon. We're out of options." crackle the man's comms. A heavy sigh escapes Jenkins' lips and he blinks his eyes twice.
"This is Metal Four to Artillery batteries Alpha and Omega. Do you copy? I repeat Metal Four to Artillery Batteries Alpha and Omega. Do you copy?"
"This Alpha we read."
"Omega, loud and clear Metal Four."
"Priority Target Grimm, classification Typhon. Incendiary or Ice rounds cleared for use. Repeat Priority Target Grimm, classification Typhon. Cleared for use of incendiary and ice Dust rounds. Fire at will," Jenkins grunts as something impacts his back and he catches himself with a step forward. Turning his body and stabbing the blades pommel of his hammer into the Ursa. Jenkins muscles strain and his Ironclad creaks as the Ursa's weight lifts over his shoulders before he arcs downward. The Ursa plummets into the ground with a massive cloud of dust rising. Jenkins twists the haft of his hammer and the Ursa jerks before it goes limp and smoke billows off its body.
Metal Three steps forward, his sidearm kicking back in his hand. Jenkins hears the roar at the last second and jerks to the left as a Creeper takes five rounds to the chest and crashes into the ground it's body already disintegrating.
"We need to be ready, pound it once more after Alpha and Omega hit it!" Metal Three holsters his pistol and wraps an arm around Jenkins.
Their bodies were aching with dull and sharp pains, their eyes were losing the fight to stay under the weight of their kids. The arms were numb and had pins and needles at the same time. Something lifts Jenkins from the other side and he turns, seeing Alice on his opposite.
"Come on boys. We ain't done yet. If that Huntress is still in the game then sure as Hell better be." With Alice and Metal Three the pair manages to get Jenkins onto his feet. A crack like sky itself was breaking apart tears through the smoke and a line of pure white streaks against the black.
A sphere as large as Bullhead airship expands from the Grimm's back and its oil skin bubbles before ripping apart and clinging over the ground covering the surrounding area in black. A blood curling pained roar breaks out from Typhon's massive set of jaws. Then another crack. Another sphere. An explosion of oil coloured goo. Below the massive beast it was like being hit with a tidal wave. The black consumed three Ironclads they shift their bodies to keep their weight balanced.
A hungry growl catches them as they step clear and they pull weapons. A triad of black and stark white with bloody red accents and dripping maws greets them. Their eyes track up as a yellow streak shoots into Typhon.
"We hold here Metal. Nothing in. Nothing out." The soldiers raise their weapons and train the on the horde. The wait didn't last, and with a single bellow the Grimm thindered forward.
-Inside Typhon-
Yang's feet squished in the black goo. The inside was almost pitch black. Were it not for glow of the moonlight through the massive rents in Typhon's skin the yellow clad Huntress wouldn't be able to see at all.
The deeper she goes the less light she has, until a faint, ethereal, red glow lights the odd corridor like structure. Turning the corner of the wet, but solid liquid Yang's eyes alight upon the glows source.
A bulging red sphere, much like the Grimm Seers Salem used is connected to two spirals of black goo. The walls are lined with glowing ovular, people sized pods, and their light shifts every once in a while. Approaching the ovals with Celica armed and her new arm split apart, the barrel glowing a fiery orange. Yang's eyes widen as she catches sight of the shifting body within the pod.
It was humanoid, the curves suggested a human woman, and hair was just beginning to sprout upon the body's head. It's eyes moved this way and that breath it's shut lids. Yang steps back, the hair on the back of her neck rising. Acting without thought Yang ducks as a fist slams into the black wall, smashing into it, its entire first submerged in the wall. Spinning on the ball of her foot Yang plants Celica into the thing's stomach. Like the sound of a body on a slipping slide the creature slides across the now juggling floor.
Yang stares at the monster facing her. Just like as it had with Blake, and Ruby, Yang was left with a gaping jaw at a Grimm of herself. It's hair was black and oily, stuck to her scalp and shifting minimally as it cocks it's head at Yang. Those piercing gleaming red eyes lock with Yang's flashing crimson. It lacks lips, it's teeth much like Typhon's itself, sit on the edges of its peculiar cringy smile, at the centre a set of large glimmering fangs each about the size of Yang's pinky. The beast's head has slight growths of bone cutting through its hair. The muscles of its body are sharp, defined, but spines of white bone stick from the shoulders, their pointed ends reflecting some of the red light giving them a red sheen. Its skin is white, cracks of black running over it. A large bowed white plate covers its chest and white ribs stick out from its sides. Its arms end in black blobby mess, as bone begins to slide out of the black into a form reminiscent of Celica. Its other arm sports a long triangular shoes bone ending in a needle like point.
"A… G… A… I… N…?" It's croaky, dry voice rasps. "G… L… A… D… L… Y…"
Its movements are precise, machine like, exact copies of the sets Yang had used on the beast in her first fight. Swinging its left arm and bringing its legs to bear it forces Yang back, putting the brawler on the defensive.
A sudden flash of red. Yang's metal arm goes next to her head as the beast's blade arm connects. Sparks flicker in the air. Yang strains against it. The beast stumbles and Yang presses her advantage. The Grimm monstrosity was ready.
Left, right, left, right, right, left; leg, leg, right, left, left, leg, leg, right, leg, left. The patterns repeat, varying like the chords of a symphony. The beat of bone on metal, fist on hardened goo, and the quickening tempo of blows.
The room rumbles and the monstrosity sinks into the ground up to its ankles. Then the chamber shudders sending an unprepared Yang floundering and her left hand hitting the wall, and sinking in.
-Outside Typhon-
Metal Three drops the spent pistol. A shink follows and a flash of moonlight flares. His short sword swipes clean through the Ursa's jaw. In answer to his strike Metal Three feels a crushing weight slam into his still injured shoulder. A crunch of plate and a sharp, piercing pain stabs through the armour and a sickening wet snap resounds, Metal Three shouting and cursing behind the scarlet liquid leaking from between his teeth and his lips. A much darker crimson streams heavily from the mangled mess of flesh and metal of his shoulder. His knee buckles and Metal Three hits the ground, the reticle of his armour glowing a brilliant green while the monitor flashes bright red warnings, a line moving erratically alongside the flashing shoulder. Growling Metal Three buries his sword into the Ursa's gut and grabs the barrel still connected to his right shoulder. Blue energy arcs along the length of the weapon followed by a massive crack sending the top quarter of the large Grimm flying off into the distance. Blinking away the displays and snapping them up to the weapon screen he glares at the disengage control.
Dust rises from the ground as the Rail Gun falls from Metal Three's shoulder and the Ironclad forces himself to his feet, his entire body burning with sharp fiery and unending pain in all of his nerve endings. Grabbing the handle of his sword a wet clap follows and Metal Three brandishes the sword against the line of Grimm.
"Fireteam Metal! We die here, we take every single one of these Grimm with us!"
"Affirmative!" The three Ironclads, rush forward colliding with the line of Grimm. Metal Three swipes his short sword through a Beowulf's arm, buries the blade into a Creeper's Grimm mask, brings his knee into the shoulder of a Berringle. Turning his injured arm away the sword blade is ripped from the Creeper's head and Metal Three follows up slamming the the blade into the Berringle's neck and twisting it home. Kicking the smoking corpse off his blade Metal Three strides forward striking out with every step as uncountable swathes of Grimm try to overwhelm the three soldiers.
Jenkins' hammer smashes through a Boarbatusk, its bone armour shattering and flying like fragments into the surrounding beast. A Creep latches its jaws onto the Ironclad's shin and a pain sliced up Jenkins' leg. The soldier flings his leg up, sending the Creep flying up before he spun and swung his hammer into it like a baseball player. The Creep was smoking in the air as its corpse crashing into a Griffon sending them both tumbling.
Alice swings her longsword, cleaving a Beowulf in half. The blades sings a song of death as she swipes through Grimm after Grimm. Then it happens. A Lancer sweeps downward its wings buzzing a harmonic tone as a bone spike whistles through the air. The bone catches Alice in the gut crimson droplets fly through the air as Alice uses the momentum to bring herself around and throw her sword. The blade sings through the air and catches the Lancer in the neck, separating the two pieces of its body.
Kingdom of Mistral, Dr. Watts' Laboratory
The air was still. Nothing dared break the silence within. The place reeked of death, or pain, it lingered in the walls and along the floor. Electricity seemed to fill the air with every step the three Huntresses took deeper into the labs. Weiss' eyes dart from one doorway to the next, her knuckles white on Myrtenaster's grip. Blake's ears fluttered atop her head with every sound. Ruby, Crescent Rose at the ready, glared ahead of her.
The group had yet to encounter since entering the lab. But the flickering lights, the open doors, the blackish red pools were stuck to the off white panelled metal on the ground in the different rooms. A sign saying "medical suite" appeared and the Huntresses followed the directions.
The doors wooshed and all three women stop dead. Their jaws drop and the eyes widen as they stare.
Kingdom of Mistral S.R.E.D. Defensive Line Omega, within Typhon
A grunt forces itself past Yang's lips as the Grim copy's attack connects and something shifts under Yang's skin. Yang groans further, doubling over and holding her left arm across her stomach. Her cheek was slightly purple and black, her right eye was swollen shut and a red trail ran out of the corner of her mouth. A slight movement of her thumb and Yang's right arm splits apart. Yang tucks her legs rolling across the floor as the copy punches downwards. Springing to her feet and leveling a kick into the copy's side. A Yang feels her boot shift something within the copy and its jaws part in a pained howl which echoes through the chamber.
The copy steps back, favouring one leg and putting its left hand to its side. The blade of its right arm held out, pointed at Yang's heart. The copy's version of Celica begins to fade back into a black goo knitting itself through the torso of the copy, its eyes flicking between Yang and whatever it was do- Its standing straighter! Throwing out two rounds from Celica the copy is forced back to the wall and pushes off her leg.
The air pulls at Yang as she impacts the copy sending it rebounding off the wall. The monstrosity hits the floor, bouncing back up like an wobbler toy, right into Yang's waiting hand.
The Huntress catches the copy's skull in her hands. Yang flexes the muscles in her arms and they go tight as cords. Tension builds in her hands and she starts to squeeze. The monster starts belting out combos. Slamming punch after punch. Yang glows a wreath of flame, her twin strands lighting ablaze with each hit. It roars as Yang jabs her thumbs into its soft squishy eyes. Then something shifts under Yang's palms, and a sickening crack followed by a wet thawck fills the air and black goo bursts into Yang's hands.
Her crimson eyes didn't leave the husk as its knees gave out and fell and was absorbed into the floor. Noticing something moving in the other ovals Yang flicks her eyes to the glowing red Seer like orb at the centre of the chamber. Without hesitation Yang plunges her right arm into the orb's bubble like surface and grasps one of its supports with her left hand.
The chamber's walls contract and shudder as a heavy pained growl reverberates through the walls. Its noise forces Yang to clench her eyes shut before the scream tapers off. Something bursts off to Yang's right. A pop to her left. Glancing up, like she knew Typhon could see her standing there.
"This is for my sister you Bastard!" Yang activates the flamethrower on her right arm and a heat wave expands from the bubble. The orb's spherical shape distorts and warps before it explodes outwards dousing the chamber in flames. Yang watches, a clear film covering her arm, as the two copies of her collapsed lifeless to the ground. The walls begin to melt and goo puddles at Yang's boots. Yang sprints out of the chamber.
-Outside Typhon-
Metal Three's broken sword impales a final Beowulf before his knees give out. The ground embraces him and he feels some kind of pressure on his chest. The world is dark, eating away at his vision, but frankly he doesn't care all that much. Something sticky warm flows across his body, between the bodysuit and his skin. It's both irritating, skin crawling, and soothing, like someone starting to wrap a blanket around you.
Jenkins groans, his weight is shifted onto his hammer, sinking into the ooze covered ground slowly evaporating into black smoke. The Grimm were suddenly gone, keeling over and collapsing, disappearing. The smoke still blotted out most of the moon's light, but a breeze of air, free from the stenches of sweat, blood, and Dust smacked the Ironclad's nostrils even through the suit's filters. His hand struggles to grasp the release to his helmet, his fingers to numb and thick feeling. As the catch the handle a hiss escapes and the large plated helmet collapses onto the ground, sinking into the ooze slightly. The air isn't recycled, doesn't smell of his own captured sweat. Glancing over at the other standing Ironclad, their armour as black and ash covered as his own no doubt, sniffing the air and running an ungloved hand through her hair, its ponytail long since gone and the strands crinkled all over the place. Her eyes hover though to her right, there wasn't anyone standing there.
Kingdom of Mistral, S.R.E.D. FOB, Main Debriefing Room, 3 days later
Winter's hologram shimmered and repeated as it tried to track her movements. The room was sparsely populated, the four Huntresses of Team RWBY, two members of Fireteam Metal, and Liath are sitting there. The air conditioning is up to full, blasting icy winds into the room as the heat of the day strikes the windows from the main operations centre directly in front of them, staff bustling about. Outside Vipers, Turtles, and other variety of aircraft circulate through, heading to and from the still smoking remains on the horizon. Body bags filled a good portion of the base's main airfield though all waiting to be cycled off for transport. A good number of the parked aircraft were nearly torn apart, wings missing, engine blocks half melted, and cockpit windows shattered.
"By all standards Liath, what was managed was a successful… the loss of life regrettable, but a victory nonetheless. How does the base stand at this moment?" Winter's head double tracks as it turns to Liath.
"Running at thirty-two percent efficiency. We lost seventy-eight percent of all ground forces and have another twenty-two percent wounded in some capacity. Five Hunters have failed to report in, including Nava. Aircraft fleet is operating at roughly forty-five percent another ten percent grounded until repairs are finished. Heavy weapons are still functioning at full effect. Overall the base is technically in the yellow, but we're still capable of handling small scale situations. With Colonel Schnee's permission I'd like to have the Edelweiss stationed overhead while we resupply and await more troops."
"Permission granted Agent," Weiss murmurs her eyes focused on the body bags on the airfield. "I must attend to matters in Atlas anyway, so it would probably be best to have the Edelweiss somewhere where I know the Agent in charge."
"Huntress Xiao Long, if you could go over how you defeated Typhon?"
"It appears the Grimm as a Seer like orb in its centre, the reason it was capable of absorbing most of our attacks was that at its smaller size it could most likely shift its orb to avoid damage, and at larger sizes it simply had too much mass. The orb also appeared to control the Grimm and copies that Typhon creates, probably why it needs to consume so much matter." Yang leans back and kicks her feet up onto the table. She's in a set of S.R.E.D. workout clothes, her normal attire being examined by the on site S.R.E.D. eggheads.
"What did you find Agent Rose?" Ruby's head jerks back to the hologram, away from the spot on the wall.
"I… apologise, what was the question?" Winter's lips turn downwards ever to slightly and her eyebrow lowers.
"What did you find within Dr. Watts' Laboratory Agent Rose?" Her voice is tight, but calm.
"Watts is dead. His organs were scrambled and his brain missing. We wanted to access his on site files but decided against it and let tech support handle it. From the looks of it though Watts wasn't alone down there."
"Fireteam Metal report?"Ruby's eyes hyper focus Weiss at the mention of the Ironclads and Weiss turns away, keeping her face out of Ruby's view as much as possible.
"All Grimm as a part of the incursion have been eliminated or sent packing by remaining coordination between S.R.E.D. and Mistrailian Guards. What forces remain in the field are stretched thin looking for any sign of this mystery creature that killed Dr. Watts, but we haven't found anything yet."
"Alright. Fireteam Metal, as soon as Metal Three is good to move I'm transferring you to the Edelweiss. You'll be our go to strike team while look for this new creature. Liath you have command of the FOB once more. With any luck Nava will pop her head above ground soon and we can take her into custody for trial against my father and his undermining of the Atlesian and Vytal Councils. You're dismissed."
Kingdom of Mistral, Forests
She doesn't remember her name, she doesn't remember what it meant to live, she doesn't remember a time when her heartbeat didn't burden her chest with pain, she doesn't remember a time when she had ever been this hungry. What she did remember was the nice man who told her to eat of him, to embrace her nature, that it would save her. Her stomach roars angrily and her legs shudder before she collapses into a tree.
"Massster?" a voice questions from the dark, and yet it fills part of the void in her chest. A long black neck topped in a white mask with red designs flowing along it looks down at her. Just after the head a large clawed paw reaches out and a black and white wolf like creature, a large crack running along the brow ridge of its mask, peaks a her and cocks its head. "I hope Masssster wassss right in making you… I hope we are enough."
The wolf moves forward and brushes its snout against her arm. Then turning it offers its back.
"Climb on, it wisssshesss to help. We have a long journey ahead."
A/N:
Alright finally! The ten thousand word story is finally complete coming in at roughly 36,039 words. Damn… That was a lot of writing. I hope you have enjoyed this arc and yes there will be more. This is just the first of at least three planned stories at the moment. In the interim between this arc and the next I will be writing some shorter pieces, no longer than 5,000-10,000 words fleshing out more of this world I have built based on Dishwasher's RWBY 3.0 works. Thanks for the continued support and probably see you again with another chapter after finals and work!
Also what do you think of Fireteam Metal? I only have one more story currently planned for them, it's part of the interim, but if people want to see them return just tell me in the comments, reviews, or PMs. If you don't want any specific characters to make a large return also let me know and I'll see about doing that. Anyways have a wonderful weekend, sorry this is two days late!
-Six out!