So, fair warning, and I'm putting it first cos it's serious: This chapter delves into Grimm's background more. And, for those of you just tuning in? It. Is. DARK. I'm talking the physical abuse and torture of an under-16, followed by mentioning sexual abuse by both men, women, and their pets. Cos, hey, real torture isn't a car battery to your nipples, real torture is abuse in every possible way to destroy your captive or just simply hurt them for fun.

So if you don't want to read that stuff, either skip this chapter or try dodging it.

And yes, I wrote something seriously screwed up but, hey, I wanted to make an adult version of RWBY.

I like to think I did a good job!

So, if you're still here after that warning... Well, good luck to ya!

Protective. Caring. Helping.

Always there.

Always Benji.

Grimm let loose a roar as his foot connected with the jaw for a Beowulf, sending it into an abandoned cart nearby, before deftly leaping out of the swiping claws of his brothers. Benjamin, on the other hand, simply stuck to unloading his gun into them, never once missing his target. They'd progressed a little further into the city, toward the school, and found it grew worse the deeper you delved. It seemed like the whole of Remnant's Grimm population was swarming towards Beacon, like an unending ocean of black death eroding the strongholds of man, and it was just pure bad luck that they'd gotten swept up in one of the many waves full of creatures. It'd be a lie to say it didn't hurt seeing what was once his family being murdered, unable to stop it from happening (and knowing full well his 'family' now wished him dead), but the monster man did his best to not to harm his fellow beasts. No claws, no stingers, no ungodly powers that ripped them apart. Just pure and simple blunt force trauma. Anything to keep them out of reach, to keep them from attacking, was enough. It felt good, of course it felt good, to still have the ability to physically overwhelm them without using his abilities but it still lacked the blood-lust his usual gory antics provided. However, the entire situation did provide him with one point of interest. Watching the human beside him had proven an interesting study. Recalling the information that flooded his mind prior, he'd assumed the man was gifted with both revolver and mace. After watching him in battle, it quickly became apparent that wasn't what was meant. A flick of the thumb against a certain part of the grip and it happened, the barrel loaded with bullets splitting in two, pushing out, before sliding down the barrel as it extended and expanding blunted spines from the sides. The gun had become a very jagged mace within a matter of seconds, with the old man beating an Ursa into the floor with a powerful swipe. His finger rested on the trigger, a seemingly pointless thing to do, until he jabbed the flat head of his weapon against the gut of another Grimm. Firing, all six chambers unloaded at once, blasting through and shredding apart those unfortunate enough to be behind his victim.

Granted, this left him without bullets but he seems more than adept at quickly reloading his device. It was an interesting matter to observe, amidst uppercutting a bear beast into his fellows, learning of this human's talents and battle strategies. A small pouch rested along his belt line, seeming to carry his bullets, though he seemed to carry more in his other pockets. Perhaps he'd grabbed as many as possible due to the situation? Regardless, he seemed to grow weary of using too many rounds. The trigger of the revolver grew quickly into disuse, though Grimm couldn't tell if it was for conservation of ammunition or as a tactical use of his mace. Briefly, his focus was drawn back to the battle at hand. Vaulting over a Boarbatusk, somersaulting, he gripped the hog by the fur of its back and suplexed its snout hard into the concrete below. Dead or stunned, he didn't have time to check, having to spirit further down their path... The old coot certainly had stamina. "Up ahead! I know this area, around the corner is a partition gate. If we shut it before they get through, they'll waste time climbing the walls while we run!"

Okay, running instead of fighting... Maybe he didn't have THAT much stamina...

Not that Grimm minded, not wanting to draw out the battle with his familiars any longer than he needed to. They charged forward, cutting a path through what monsters they encountered, and bolted towards the thick wooden doors built within the cold stone walls. A kick to the jaw, a hammerfist to the back of the skull, even simply dodging them at the right time, Grimm needed to get to the door before he was forced to kill anything. He wanted to find a way to make them peaceful again, to get his family back, and was grateful he wasn't armed like his ever annoying companion had been. Through the arch, the two glanced back, witnessing the horde they'd traversed storming towards them. Benjamin quickly reverted his weapon back to its pistol form, swapping out a single round for a deep red shell. "You get the gate, I'll make sure they'd can't break through!" He wished he could disobey that order, but Grimm needed to keep this ruse going. Punching one and round housing the other, the two wooden barriers slammed into their original positions. Mid wondering what the old man was doing, a sudden and loud explosion occurred behind him, giving him all of five seconds to avoid a delivery truck flying towards him. The arrogant pensioner had used the concussive force of a red Dust round to flip the vehicle into position, pinning the doors shut (and, as Grimm thought, any unlucky bastards still alive on the other side). "WHAT THE FUCK!?" He snapped at his so-called companion, understandably upset by nearly being made a demonic pancake. The only response he got didn't help his anger. "No time to explain, we have to move!"

And off ran the old man, spiriting away from the roars and snarls of evil behind the barrier they'd erected. Unwilling to fight more of his family and more than eager to argue with the son of a bitch that nearly killed him, Grimm chased after the man in white, all the while growing concerned by the silence within his mind that once was filled by the complaints of his other self...

A few blocks away, the two stopped to catch their breath. For the time being, at least, it seemed they'd escaped the Grimm trying to devour them. But it wouldn't be long before they encountered another horde, another flesh hungry wave of devils, as this peace, this respite, couldn't last forever. Pointing back to the way they came, the obvious question was brought beyond Grimm's lips. "What the absolute FUCK happened back there!? You could've killed me, you stupid old fuck!" A glare locked onto his own, both staring the other down, seemingly equally furious. With an exhausted sigh, the older man nonchalantly replied. "As I said, I didn't have time to explain. If you hadn't noticed, those gates aren't designed for hordes of monsters to be pounding on them. I had to pin it shut and the van was the first thing I saw upon getting through. I figured you'd noticed, I didn't expect you to just stand there like-" A claw finger was held, accusingly, inches from his face. "Don't you DARE call me an idiot or, so help me, I'll drag you right back there and feed you to them!" Benjamin scoffed, slapping the hand away, before walking toward their objective. He didn't seem to care much about Grimm, which only made him angrier when something stupid like before happened. Having no real choice but to follow, the demon boy kept pace, huffing in annoyance. He questioned if the old coot was worth all the hassle or if he should've just ignored the promise of easy victims. It didn't help that there wasn't any 'thrilling' conversation between the two, both just as anti-social as the other. That wasn't to say they didn't talk, it just rarely was more than orders or brief directions. But it never stopped Grimm from noticing certain things...

"So who's Maria?"

Benjamin froze in his tracks as the younger monster carried on, smirking as he knew his companion had no choice but to follow despite a clearly distressing topic being raised. "That's none of your damn business." The words were barked out, the emotion in his voice clear enough. And, oh, how this needed mocking. "Really? If it's none of my damn business, then why is the name scratched onto the barrel of your gun? Can't be the gun's name, you've clearly spent time perfecting your weaponry and wouldn't risk damaging something so pristine, so it's a person. A person who's DEAD at that, otherwise why would you before engraving their name into something so valuable to you?" Glancing back, he couldn't help but grin. His detective work was on point, it seemed, considering the murderous stare he was being given. "Must be someone precious to you. I mean, I assume you carry that gun with you everywhere at all times? Sooooo... A sister? Daughter..? Ooooooooooooh~!" A unique sight to behold, Grimm's voice became sing-song to further insult the memory of whoever Benjamin loved. "It was a wifey~! What's she die of, eh? Cancer? Grimm? Your beard hair lodged in her throat?" There was a growl of pure rage behind him, the soft creak of the revolver's grip all he needed to hear to know he'd pushed all of the old man's buttons down. "I told you, it's none of your damn business! Yes, I lost my wife, I put her name on my gun because I miss her, but telling a degenerate like you how she died won't bring her back! So stop asking me stupid questions and let's just focus on getting to Beacon Academy!"

Well, someone had gotten snippy... But, as much fun as it was to mock the old bastard, it still didn't replace the strange feeling that had been following him ever since they left the house. The other voice was silent, gone even, and he'd felt... Wrong. Like something wasn't right anymore, like something had changed. Obviously, it wasn't natural to him to be alone in his head, but that didn't change the feeling in his gut. Ever since the other voice had forced itself into his mind he'd felt out of it, like he was going through the motions, like he wasn't in control of himself. A puppet dancing to someone else's tune. What's more, he felt disconnected from his usual sadistic self. He liked the idea of killing, but he'd already spent far too long without harming anyone (beyond fellow Grimm) and even longer since he last had a good meal of human flesh. It felt wrong being so... 'Normal'. No voice in his head telling him to kill, no cannibalism, no gruesome murder, it was just all so disgusting human! It was like he was betraying his self, like he'd been playing sweet and innocent and cheated on his psychotically violent self. It was wrong on SO many levels, but he knew he couldn't just go back to killing randomly, especially not until he could ally himself with his monster family again. And that was something he worried might never happen again.

They'd covered a few more streets in silence, Grimm in deep thought and Benjamin clearly still fuming from the mockery before, before stopping at a cross-roads. Pointing off into the distance, the bearded man unwillingly broke his refusal to talk. "Over there. That tower. If we head in that direction, we'll reach the evacuation point sooner. And, believe me, sooner IS better with you around." The last part of his sentence had been a snarl entirely, the elderly man clearly resentful of the younger's belittling mannerisms. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the monster beside him. "So rude! You know, I'm starting to get the feeling you don't like me very much." The other simply huffed, storming towards their target in an agitated pace. "Starting? I don't trust you, I don't HAVE to trust you, and all you've done is complain, insult me and try to drag up parts of my past I don't wish to explain!" He stopped and span on his heels, startling Grimm ever so, before jabbing a finger in his direction. "How would you like it if I started attacking your history, hmm? Like your tribe! How does your tribe survive out there? Are your parents with them? How was it growing up as a savage? Go on! Explain to me ALL of your life's worth!" Off he walked again, never once releasing the revolver's grip, forcing the demon in disguise to play tag-along. It seemed like an easy enough request, how hard could it be to drag up a fake past he didn't need to be truthful about? Besides, he did live in Vacuo, it wouldn't be hard to use more of his real past to further expand his lies. "Well, my tribe started off as a village. But, as things normally are, that didn't last long. The Grimm have a habit of ripping apart everything and, when it wasn't then, it didn't help we had trouble with local scumbags who thought it was fun ruining our lives." This was good, this was smart, he could bleed in a few facts among the fiction and they'd seem to perfectly real together. It felt good to lie to a stranger and, perhaps, a little good to talk about his old life too. He didn't miss it, at least he didn't feel he did, but it was still a pleasant memory before... Things happened...

"I was born into it all, to my knowledge, and had a nice family. Strong dad who'd go hunting for us, caring mother who'd do anything to keep the family going..." Perhaps too much. "And I suppose you could say I've been wandering for a long time. As for my parents well... My dad apparently left to become a teacher somewhere and my mother..."

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! STOP HURTING-" Pain. It's all he really remembered, a small boy being slammed against the wall, barely awake, barely able to breath as he was snatched up by the sick bastard who hurt him. He blacked out, grateful to not witness one of the turning points of his life. But he knew the truth. He wasn't stupid. Even if he didn't, his captors mocked him plenty about it whenever he begged for his parents to save him from the hell they inflicted on him.

"AMINA! AMINA! NO! NO-"

A single shot. A single bullet. 'Straight through her head' they said. A sudden end to the only woman in his life he loved unconditionally.

Pain. It was a surprise to feel, after all these years, the pain of losing his mother. To feel that part of him that died the same night she did, before his entire soul was ripped from his body by the sadistic fucks who harmed him so badly. "...She was killed by some bad men. Killed because of some stupid bullshit reason for their own amusement. And they took... Took me in the process..." This was beginning to grow too real, too intimate, too true, but he couldn't seem to stop! Reliving the memory, remembering the horrors of that night, of the nights that followed, of the YEARS of suffering and humiliation at the hands of psychopaths. The words slipped from his mouth, oiled by the scars he thought he'd long since buried beneath the darkness within his heart, before he could stop them. "I was their toy at first. They beat me, burned me, just hurt me in any way they could. They got bored eventually so began to experiment. Forced dust into me in any form they could... It made me blind, made me piss myself from the sudden darkness... And as I got older, they... They..." Hands became fists, claws digging into his palms, blood running down his fingers as the memories came back in pieces. "They violated me... I was still young but they just saw me as property... When they didn't hurt me, they raped me. And when they didn't do that, they did BOTH! Men, women, their fucking PETS, and begging them to stop only made it worse! And every night, every FUCKING night, I wished they slit my throat for what they did to me!" Trembling, tears threatened to fall as he tried to gain control over himself. But the memories came back, harder, faster, tearing open old wounds and forcing them to the front of his mind. Every disgusting touch, every tear soaked choke of pain, he could recall every second of it, every moment making his stomach knot and twist harder and harder.

"Smile, you little slut! You're finally useful for something!"

Please...

"Look at him squirm! Bet he starts enjoying it eventually!"

Someone...

"One mutt down, two more to good. Now be a good bitch and KEEP YOUR MOUTH OPEN!"

I want to die...

"You little PRICK, you better not pass out before I'm done!"

Kill me! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! MAKE IT STOP!

"Not nice having your past dragged up, is it Lazarus?" His false name spat out with venom. That was enough. Enough of a shock, of an interruption, to pull him away from the edge. His eyes dried as he wrestled with his breathing, thinking of how coldly the stranger had treated his entire confession. He's, unwillingly by his own hand, confessed to being an orphan and a sexually abused one at that... And this guy was just snide to him because of how he acted before? Dead wife or not, it was cold hearted even for a normal human. Then again... I guess I should've seen that coming. I mean, he did want to prove a point, to stop me insulting him... Of course he was going to be like that. It didn't stop it hurting though. Claws out of his palms, licking the wounds and grateful his tears and returned to the forgotten hell they climbed from, he followed the cruel pensioner in silence. He didn't feel like bringing up the past again... And worried as the feeling of wrong within him grew greater by the minute. Passing a few houses, all of which seemed abandoned rather than destroyed, the two came closer to the outskirts of the courtyards. A plaza lay out before them. Beyond that, more homes and stores, then the courtyards themselves behind yet another wall. It would've been a simple matter, a ten minute walk at most. If the plaza wasn't filled with Grimm, of course. Not that it bothered the monster man in the slightest anymore.

He needed something to hurt right now. Anything but him.

Without so much as a word, he charged forward. He could hear gunshots behind him, Benjamin clearing having to get involved himself, but couldn't care less as his fist connected with the skull of an unfortunate Beowulf. Ducking, dodging, punching another, drop kicking an Ursa, he felt nothing as he took his pain out on what was once family. Gripping the wrist of one unlucky beast, spinning as he did, Grimm gave a roar as he batted a gaggle of creatures away with one of their brothers. It was fun. Fun to be back to fighting, to feel his heart beating hard, to feel the rush of harming others pumping through his blood. But, as enjoyable as it all was, he wanted too much. Needed it too quickly. And so, mid-kicking one Grimm, taking pleasure in the solid CRACK of teeth against his knee, he failed to miss a pair of razor sharp teeth lunging towards his neck. He couldn't move in time, not in the position he was in. Couldn't survive the attack either. So, regretting playing his cards so close to the end of his little trip with the old man, he did what he had to do. Pulling his arm back and snapping it forward, he went to summon the darkness he control to his arm, knowing the spikes of the Beowulf's forearm would protect him...

But the blackness never came. And to his horror, he watched as teeth sunk into his shoulder.

A scream he couldn't hear torn from his throat.

Honestly a little disappointed this wasn't as big as I hoped it was. It's more than Chapter 2 but I feel a little disappointed in myself for not hitting 4000 words like I did with Chapter 1. Still, it's technically filler. Yes, we had drama and action today, but the next chapter will be even MORE drama-y! And the final chapter is gonna be exclusively drama and action, it's gonna be a PAIN to write! Hopefully super big too, I wanna make the ending as epic as possible.

Anyway, thanks for reading and good work putting up with all the dark themes so far! I promise, this is the only chapter with rape talk in it, so it's all good from here on out!