Dirt & Grit
Chapter 13
He was already up long before they needed to wake up; whether it was by habit or desire, he could no longer say after all these years. Looking at the sleeping forms of his new…team, he felt nothing but irritation at the way they slept.
Marsden still slept with that dumb ratty cowboy hat covering his face while he snored. He mumbled something in his sleep, but Grit couldn't hear it well enough, so he ignored it while scowling at him. While proving efficient in his leadership yesterday, the cowboy still annoyed Grit with his in-your-face personality.
Moving his eyes over to Sudri; the Viking greeted him spread eagle on his bed; naked as the day he was born, still holding one of his axes while occasionally belting out a laugh, farting and then returning to snore like Grit's chainsword.
The only one who wasn't pissing off Grit at the moment was Ove, who slept under the covers of his bed and didn't make a single sound. In fact, Grit would have been sure that Ove was dead if it wasn't for the slight rising of the blanket that happened every other second or so.
Sleeping like a bunch of babies…
Growling, he saw the digital clock beside Marsden's bedside table.
4:13 AM
Rubbing his brow in irritation, Grit rose from his bed in nothing, but his boxers and chain, then went to the bathroom as Sudri laughed again in his sleep.
"Heh heh…hurry Vinar bring the ale and asses over here…but none for Risi…He prefers being held gently…heh heh,"
Grit resisted the urge to deck him in his face and instead opened the door to the bathroom before closing it behind him. He fumbled in the darkness before something clicked, and light illuminated the room.
Too goddamn bright…
Going over to the sink, he turned it on to splash water on his face to wake himself up more. When that didn't work, he turned to the shower to wash so he wouldn't smell like shit anymore.
When was the last time I had a decent shower?
He fiddled with the knobs on the shower for a few minutes before a jet of cold water sprayed onto his hand, making him jolt for a second before relaxing. Taking off his boxers, he dropped them onto the floor and entered the shower.
The water was freezing but not as cold as the water he would usually get into during the winter. No, this cold was nothing to him but a relaxing moment in his life that were too few to count. He reached over for the soap and lathered it onto himself, feeling the bumps and dips of his body as his finger went over his wounds.
He took a few seconds just to let the water pour over him as he stared listlessly at the tiles on the wall as his hand unconsciously flexed and unflexed. Eventually, he returned to his senses and shut the shower off by reversing what he did to start it.
Stepping out of the shower, he grabbed one of the towels on the rail and dried himself as he stepped over to the mirror to look at himself.
"Damn…I look like shit," He mumbled as he looked at his face moving it around from different angles, taking his time to look at the scars that plagued his face. However, it wasn't his scars that bothered him; it was his dull eyes.
I remember they used to be brown…I still don't know what the fuck happened to make it this colour. It nearly looks like…
He shook his head to prevent his memories from assailing him and instead looked at the bags under his eyes and the thinness to his face. The results of barely sleeping and only eating the bare minimum for the past few years had left its mark on him.
Stepping back, he tried to get a look at the rest of his body. The mirror was too small for a full body check, but it was enough to see his torso where the tattoo on his right shoulder had remained untouched compared to the other scars littering his body; from knife wounds, slashes, burns, bites and even bullet holes that had closed up badly, he was more scar tissue than skin at this point.
He fought the rising bile in his throat and turned back around as he leaned his hands on the sink and stared into his tired eyes while fiddling with the chain around his neck.
"Look at you, you ugly bastard," He whispered at his reflection, "What the hell are you doing here? Going to school? Why did you say yes? Are you insane? We should just get the fuck out of here already."
The man in the mirror said nothing, enraging Grit as he jabbed angrily at it.
"You won't, though, will you? You fucking coward." He spat, "You'll just fuck around like you usually do, as you have done for all these years."
Silver eyes stared back guiltily.
"Fucking coward. Trash. You should kill yourself now and save me the goddamn trouble." He threatened as he leaned back before putting his head in his hands.
"…Fuck."
He stayed like that momentarily before sighing and pulling himself back up. He retrieved his boxers and put them back on before exiting the bathroom, where he saw the rest still in their various states of sleep.
Rolling his eyes, he walked back over to his bed before kneeling underneath and reaching to pull out a leather trunk that the school provided. He popped it open to reveal five pristine uniforms that had recently been cleaned and tailored to his size.
Reluctantly, his usual armour had been taken from him so the armourers at Beacon could repair it. He didn't realise it was in such a state; the promise that it would be finished today kept him from going on a rampage.
He felt naked without that familiar leather and iron covering him. It was like a second skin that he couldn't live without, and whenever he didn't have it, he couldn't help but start swinging at anyone who got close.
Who knows what they will do to me if they get too close…
Putting that helpful thought in the back of his head, he instead focused on getting dressed. He didn't know how to do a tie, so he threw that out; the mini jacket looked stupid, and the regular blazer looked like it would just restrain his movement. Now all he was left with was a white button-up shirt, black suit pants, black socks and a pair of black dress shoes.
…I'm gonna look like a goddamn tâmpit.
Grudgingly accepting that he had nothing else to wear and losing the coin toss in his head to just say 'fuck it!' and wear his underwear around Beacon, he slipped into his new clothes.
With the final shoe slipped on, he stood up and made other adjustments to his 'uniform', undoing the top three buttons, rolling up the sleeves and keeping his shirt untucked. He felt as free as a man would get in his situation.
Walking over to the door, he took one final glance at the room, where he noted Excuser resting against his bed with his shotgun underneath said bed. With one last glare at his roommates, he left the room.
4:32 AM
Walking around the campus, Grit came to a stunning conclusion from his walkabout as he sat outside looking up at the tower.
"I'm completely fucking lost."
He didn't know how long he had been walking, but he was sitting outside on a bench, flitting his gaze between the castle, the grassy field in front of him with a track around it, and the general sky. But he had absolutely no clue how to get back to his room and was pretty sure that people would start waking up soon.
And that meant people were going to be around him. Lots of people, so many people in fact that he was pretty sure that in number in the thousands. He remembered their slack-jawed stares and whispers as they pointed at him.
Yeah, keep looking, assholes…My foot is gonna be the last thing you see before I jump on your head…
He fished into his pockets to pull out a pack of cigarettes and returned to his daily routine as he lit it in his mouth. The rush of nicotine hit his system, and he felt himself slightly relax while thinking of the horrible things he would do to the bastards that couldn't keep their eyes to themselves.
They probably heard some stinking gypsy was coming to their precious school…think I'm ruining the reputation of this place…We'll see how good that reputation is when I feed you your fucking teeth…
Before he could continue that chain of thought, he noticed movement from the right side as a figure walked onto the running track. They were tall for starters – Not as tall as him, he smugly thought – but he couldn't see much besides a grey hoodie over their head, black shorts that left…little to the imagination and red sneakers that had obvious signs of wear and tear.
Grit had nothing else to do, so he watched them stretch for a moment showing off incredible flexibility and balance as they did the splits and other stretches Grit was sure would tear his nuts off if he tried.
Finally finished, they pulled the hood down to reveal crimson hair but nothing of their face as they set off steadily around the track. Grit followed them as they maintained speed and finally got a good look at their face before nearly choking on his cigarette.
Now he may have been living in the woods alone for most of his life, but Grit was still a young man pumped with testosterone, and even he could admit that this woman was insanely gorgeous. Soft red lips, emerald green eyes, high cheekbones, straight nose and curves that a regular woman would commit triple homicide left an…impression on Grit.
Holy shit…Is this what all huntresses look like? Starting to think this wasn't a bad idea…
She must have finally noticed Grit sitting there on her second lap round as she glanced to the side for a moment before double taking as she squinted her eyes to get a better look causing Grit to scowl.
Ah…there it is, that same fucking look the rest of 'em have…come to have a look at the ugly gypsy? Well, go fuck yourself cunt…
Biting down on his cigarette harder than necessary, he felt his oldest companion come to visit; rage.
"The hell are you looking at?!" He shouted, causing her to jump in shock, "Why don't you just keep running before I shove your feet up your ass!" He stood up and stalked away, taking harder pulls from his cig before spitting the remains out as he tried to find his way back to his room.
"…Fucking piece of shit school…fuck this…" He muttered as he stomped back into the building fighting the guilt rising in his gut.
She started it…don't fucking stare at me…
He wandered around campus for another hour before finding his room.
Walking in, he nearly bumped into Ove, who had just come out from the shower rubbing the towel over his head to dry his hair with one hand. As Ove turned, Grit noticed his mechanical arm lying by his bed while his shoulder was just a stump of scar tissue with a metal disc atop it.
I guess that's where he plugs it in.
Ove turned, and Grit took in his features properly for the first time, noticing how…girly he looked. He had delicate features; high cheekbones, a nose that looked like a button, blemish-free skin, eyes that were slanted upwards slightly and full lips left Grit now thinking he was looking at a doll instead of a girl.
"Grit?" His quiet voice interrupted him from his examination, and Grit looked at Ove to see him looking at him with a tilt to his head, "Ok?" He asked in concern.
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine," Grit grunted as he walked past him taking note of the black Mistralian dragon tattoo that covered his left arm. Grit's eyebrow rose in curiosity before he decided that he didn't care enough to know about it.
"Good," Ove replied; he looked like he would say more before deciding not to and moving over to his bed to reattach his arm with a clicking sound.
Grit looked over to the clock to see what time it was.
5:59 AM
Was I gone that long? I was lost for a bit but even still…
*BBBBRRRRRIIIIINNNNGGGG*
Grit jumped slightly as the clock began jumping around, letting out a ringing sound nearly deafening Grit as he clamped his hands over his ears; Ove looked mildly uncomfortable as he looked around at the alarm clock.
"GAH! WAKE THE BOYS; IT'S THE ROAD WARRIOR!" Marsden screamed as he shot up out of bed, his hat flying off his hat and down onto the floor to reveal the scraggly hair beneath. Getting his bearings, he looked around to see Grit and Ove staring at him before he moved his attention to the clock causing him to scowl. He reached over and slammed the top of it with his fist before doing it again when it didn't stop making it finally stop.
Groaning, Marsden fell back onto his pillow, moving his jaw around and smacking his lips to get the taste of the morning away. He reached up to take his hat off, revealing his long messy blonde hair, he ruffled it around before throwing the covers off and swinging his feet over. He looked over to Grit and Ove, who watched him momentarily before he grinned.
"Mornin 'pardners!" He greeted while standing up dressed only in a white tank top and black boxers; whatever skin was showing was marked in numerous tattoos such as a skull on his chest, a full sleeve on his right arm with images of pirate ships, cards, hearts and other crap Grit thought looked stupid. He also noted the tally mark that counted up to six on his left hand but thought nothing of it as Marsden walked up to him and stuck his hand out.
"And a good mornin' to you, Grit. How long ya been up?" He asked as Grit glanced at his hand before ignoring it and moving back to his bed to lie down, "Damn…Already this cold? What happen, bad dream?"
"Shut it cowboy."
"Yeesh! Shoot a feller for trying, am I right, Ove?" He looked over to Ove, who was changing; he had his shirt, vest, trousers and socks on. Ove looked over to Marsden with a tilted head, "How's yer partner Ove? Never mind, he ain't even awake yet." Walking over, Marsden stood over Sudri's sleeping form that had fallen half off the bed, exposing his genitals.
"Blegh! That's more sausage than I wanted to see today." Marsden gagged as he moved out of the way of Sudri's sleeping grasp for something. He nodded at Ove, who watched Sudri as he slept, "Ya mind waking him up, Ove? Don't think I'm gonna be fast enough to dodge like you."
Ove nodded as Marsden grinned again, "Thanks 'pal; I'm gonna wash and be out in the next ten. You gonna be good out here?" Ove nodded again with a small smile.
"I will be good."
Marsden tipped his hat and moved into the bathroom before locking the door behind him. The next minute, the faint sound of a shower running was heard, along with some out-of-key singing.
Grit leaned back into his pillow and tried to close his eyes to get comfortable, but the bed felt too itchy and suffocating, so he got back up to sit on the edge. He watched as Ove moved over to Sudri, who choked on his drool for a bit before coughing it back up and going back to snoring.
"No…Don't let Einar drink that…he will shit everywhere…Goat milk…Freja's sweet breasts…."
"What the fuck is he talking about?" Grit asked no in particular as Ove looked over at him.
"Religion." He stated in that same quiet voice.
"That's his religion? Goat milk, shit and tits? Sure sounds like heaven."
Ove smiled before crouching down to poke at Sudri's face. When that didn't work, he tried harder and harder but still nothing as Sudri continued sleeping even deeper. Shrugging, Ove reached back with an open palm and delivered a heavy slap onto Sudri's face who woke up with a scream as he lashed out in front of him with his axe.
"GAH! MÉR VERÐ EKKI FYRIR TIL VALHALLA ENN!" He screamed as Ove hopped over his swing and landed back on his feet. Sudri looked around wildly before settling on Ove and calming down.
"Gahaha! You are brave, Álfur, to wake me with such violence but also commendable!" He stood out of bed, his member swinging about as Ove looked away uncomfortably, and Grit scowled.
"Put on some fucking trousers, you bum! I'm not trying to see your wang." Grit complained while looking up at the ceiling.
"Oh? Do you feel inadequate when looking upon my sword Risi? Do not be ashamed many of the men in my tribe felt the same way." He yawned while laughing as he used his axe to scratch his back before he looked around, "Where is our leiðtogi? Has he already left to battle without us?"
"Who?"
"The cunning one…uh…Heath! Where is Heath?"
"He's in the shower. Shhhoooowwwweeeerrrr. Do you know what that is?" Grit sarcastically asked as Sudri looked at him in confusion before smiling.
"Why did you say it like that, Risi? Have you already been drinking?" He asked with excitement, "Hah! Perhaps you are not as boring as I thought! Gahahaha!"
Grit looked ready to throttle Sudri before Ove stepped in between again, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Sudri's lower regions.
"Peace," He said gently, "Still morning."
Grit grunted and instead went on his scroll. Sudri slapped Ove on his back as gently as possible before placing his axe against the wall.
"You are of lævís orð Timur; you should be a speaker instead of a fighter."
The shower stopped running in the background as Ove rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, red tinging his ears.
"Thanks."
The door unlocked, and Marsden stepped out with a towel around his neck while only clad in his boxers as he looked around at them.
"Good job Ove! You managed not to get yer head cut off." He said, swaggering into the centre of the room, having all of them in his sights, "All right, fellers, today is the first day of many as we serve our sentences, so let's try and keep our heads down." He paced side to side.
"Those city-slickers out there think we're scum, thieves, rats, delinquents and ne'er-do-wells that have come to do nothing but shit all over their precious educations, but we're gonna prove 'em wrong." He pointed to each member of GOSM as they watched with various expressions ranging from grins to scowls.
"We're gonna be better than them; we're gonna do better than them; we're gonna show 'em that going to a fancy pants school don't mean shit for experience, which we got in plenty as we…uh…damn…." He scratched his head as he looked at them all, "…I actually don't know what any of you did to end up here, honestly." He stuck his ankle out, shaking his tag at them.
Grit glanced down to his ankle, where his tag was hidden under his trousers. He looked back up to see Marsden looking at each of them for a few moments before he clapped his hands.
"Come on, fellers, none of ya want to share?" He stated while leaning against the bathroom door, "All right guess I'm gonna go first as the leader here."
"I got snagged out in the shifting sands when me and 'ma gang were raiding a Gunmetal shipment that was coming through on the tracks 'fore we got ambushed by the Vacuo Regulators. They banged me up and shoved me into a cage, and next thing ya know, I'm here."
Grit thought there was more to the story as he watched Marsden clench his jaw at the word 'Ambush' but kept silent as he was uninterested.
"Regulators?" Ove asked.
"Ya never 'eard of 'em? Ah, I guess you wouldn't, living across the world and all. The Vacuo Regulators are a bunch of civilians and Hunters that formed a militia group to hunt down gentlemen like me and bring 'em to 'justice'." He moved over to his uniform and began putting it on, "Usually, justice out in the desert means a bullet to the head, but I guess I got lucky." He finished buttoning up his shirt and tucking it into his trousers, then slipped on his blazer, forgoing his vest.
"Hah! So you were overpowered by peasants? That is humorous to me, Heath! Gahahaha!" Sudri cut in as he pulled on the trousers beneath his bed. Marsden glowered at him before flipping him off as Ove snickered quietly.
Marsden looked at Ove, who clammed up when he looked at him.
"Go on then, Ove; how'd you end up here?" Marsden asked as Ove sat on his bed, legs pressed together.
"…Enforcement." He replied before waiting a moment, "Collection." Grit looked surprised at his answer; he would never have believed it, looking at this guy who looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine.
Marsden eyebrows raised, "Damn, you worked for a gang? Who?" Ove shook his head and put a finger over his lips.
"Ah, no worries, Ove, I won't ask again."
"Why can he not tell, and why has he told us to be quiet?" Sudri cut in, not understanding the undertone of the conversation, "Timur, who is this finger gang?" He replicated Ove's gesture who looked back at him in shock for a moment before he started giggling.
"What is funny? I wish to know who it is." Sudri looked utterly lost at Ove before looking at the rest of them; Marsden chuckled, and Grit felt like he was going to kill the Viking.
"It means he ain't allowed to tell, you asshat, or he'll get killed by them. Fuck you are so stupid." Grit growled, feeling the vein in his head about to burst.
"Stupid? You will pay for this insult against me, Risi, on my father's name, I swear – "
"Fellers, can ya both shut the fuck up? It's getting old having to stop you two from killin' each other every two seconds." Marsden interrupted as Grit and Sudri looked at him. He nodded to Sudri, "Go on, Sudri; tell us how you got caught by Atlas."
Sudri looked enraged as he puffed out his chest, "Bah! Cowards, the lot of them! We challenge their raiding party to fair combat, and they send their metal men?! Óheiðarlegir, huglausir, himinbúar sem eru of hræddir til að koma niður fyrir sanngjarna bardaga! Til að berjast fyrir landið sitt sem þeir eiga ekki! Þeir munu -."
"Woah, woah, easy, Sudri, easy!" Marsden exclaimed as bits of lightning danced around Sudri. He whipped around to Marsden before closing his eyes and breathing in deeply.
"Forgiveness, Heath. I am still disgusted by the loss I faced; they did not even have the decency to send me to Valhalla."
"It's alright, sparky, yer gonna get 'em back." He reached over to pat Sudri on his bare tattooed back, "Now, why don't 'cha put a shirt on while we listen to 'ol angry face over there." Marsden nodded over to Grit, who rolled his eyes.
Should I even bother?
"Come on pardner, you ain't gotta tell us everything, but just give us something."
Grit thought for a moment. He didn't want to talk, and he didn't want to explain anything about himself; the thought of questions irritated him to no end. Finally coming to a decision, he began unbuttoning his shirt enough that he could pull his right shoulder out.
"Grit, what're ya doing – Sweet brothers balls!" Marsden shouted as he looked at the tattoo on Grit's shoulder, "Yer a gypsy? Goddamn, I thought you were all dead!"
"You are a eilífur gangandi Risi?" Sudri asked with an uncharacteristic softness to his voice.
Ove only looked with a surprised lift to his eyebrows.
Grit scowled at them in response, "Yeah, I am. That gonna be a problem with anyone?" He asked, daring them to try anything. Marsden shook his head.
"Naw pardner, just surprised is all; I've done plenty of trading with our own out in the desert, but I just heard the ones in Vale didn't do so hot." He tipped his hat up, "To think that some of 'em were still alive…."
"Explains that stick you got up yer ass though, thought ya mighta been born with it." Marsden laughed, and Grit felt him unconsciously relax at his words.
"Hah! This explains much, Risi. Your fighting style reminded me of the savagery that our own…gypsys had in the ice shelf. I have fought beside them many times." Sudri looked at Grit with something shining in his eyes, something that was akin to respect.
"Ok…great, let's keep it that way," Grit muttered before looking over at the clock.
7:00 AM
"Damn, is that the time? Lemme check the schedule boys, see what we got going on today." Marsden said, looking at the clock at the same time as Grit. "Let's see…7:30 AM is breakfast…then classes from 8 AM to 11:15 AM…Lunch at 12:30 PM…Classes from 1:30 PM to 4 PM…Self-directed sparring at 5 PM and then dinner at 6 PM." He finished with a grin.
"Goddamn, this might be the first time I've had three meals in ages! This Huntsmen shit ain't looking too bad right now."
Grit silently agreed before turning his head towards the ripping sound. Sudri had torn the arms off his blazer and shirt before putting it on, revealing his muscular tattooed arms with his shirt half unbuttoned and untucked.
"Come warband to food!" He called, marching over to the door as Ove hopped off to follow him.
"Hey! I'm the leader here! I say, when we're going to go eat!" Marsden's stomach rumbled, "And I say that time is now. Come on, Grit; we're gonna miss the good shit." He called, following them out of the door as Sudri hollered down the hallway.
Grit looked to where his bed was and looked at the trunk underneath. He quickly reached under and pulled it out to grab the blazer inside before flinging it on and following the rest of them, the cold chain underneath his shirt pressing against his chest.
Marsden had met a lot of fellers that you could call…uncivilised, but none took the cake for how Grit and Sudri ate their food. With mounds of bacon, sausages, eggs, mushrooms, beans and pancakes between them, they funnelled it down their holes like it was the last meal on death row.
Sweet brothers.
Grit leaned over his food while shovelling it, guarding it against predators or thieves. It reminded Marsden of a greedy dog or a some boys he knew who got out of jail, he wondered what Grit was living like before he met 'im. He was sure that the Gypsys didn't eat like that.
Although looking over at Sudri, he realised he wasn't no better. He leaned back and waved a mug around, demanding someone to refill it while chomping on his food with his mouth open, occasionally choking on it before hitting himself in the chest to cough it up before returning to eating.
The only one who wasn't eating like a goddamn savage was Ove, who quietly sat beside him, eating a small plate of fruits, nuts and other vegetables while drinking some orange juice. Marsden was amazed at Ove's patience and wondered if he was one of those Aura Monks he 'eard about.
Lord knows my Zen is barely working at this moment.
Marsden sipped his black coffee as he watched them eat across from him; he held down a chuckle as their elbows slightly bumped each other, causing them to glare and growl before returning to eating.
Like a pair of dogs, these two always try to bite each other.
Deciding to look around under his hat, he noticed that the other occupants of the dining hall were glancing at them or straight up just staring. He could take a gander at what they were looking at as cutlery scraping against plates sounded before him. They whispered and pointed as slyly as they could, mainly at Grit and Sudri, the one that caught his eye the most was a group of eight that sat a few tables down from the left of them.
The first that caught his eye was that most of them were women, and the second thing was how each of them was a bombshell in their own right. Like seriously, Marsden had to rub his eyes from how gorgeous they were, especially that blonde one.
Goddamn, look a the size of her…Hold on now, Marsden, ya gotta be a gentleman, remember?
The third thing he finally caught about their looks was how the ginger girl, blonde and black-haired fella, and the white-haired girl were glaring at…Grit? He followed subtly between them and his new gypsy pal, who sat unaware as he finished his food.
"Hey, Grit." He asked as Grit looked up from his plate before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"What?" He sourly asked, which Marsden ignored but instead jerked his head subtly to his left.
"What'd you do this morning? 'cause those Hunters over their look mighty pissed off with 'chu."
"Who?"
"Those guys over there, with the supermodels. I hope it ain't 'nuthin too serious 'cause I find some of them mighty fine if ya catch my meaning."
Grit looked over, not caring that they were staring at him. His eyes widened slightly before a vicious scowl came down on his face again.
"Nothing, just a bunch of nosy bastards," He sat up straighter as they glared openly at him, "What the fuck are you looking at!" He shouted, making them slowly return to their meals with the black-haired fella holding the ginger by her shoulder and covering her mouth as she tried shouting something back.
Marsden also noticed the red-haired beauty look hurt by his comments for a moment before schooling her face in a mask of calm. He raised his mug at Grit, who frowned at his plate.
"Easy fella, ain't smart to make enemies in a new place." He advised.
Grit went to open his mouth before Sudri beat him to it.
"Risi is making enemies? Good! We need to keep our wits sharp and blades sharper! Gahahaha! Good job, Risi!" He bellowed, clapping Grit's shoulder who in turn brushed it off.
"Don't touch me, dipshit, or I'll – " He was interrupted by the bell ringing, indicating that classes would start in ten minutes. They moved to get up before Marsden stopped them by sticking his hand out palm first.
"Look, listen to me for a second, alright?" They looked at him as he sighed, "It's the first day, and they're itching to chuck us at the first opportunity, so just…try not ta get in trouble if ya can help, alright?"
Grit grunted and walked off to go to his class.
"Gahaha! No promises, Heath! I always accept a challenge!" He laughed before walking away.
Marsden rubbed his eyebrow in irritation before feeling a cold metal hand resting on his shoulder. He looked over to see Ove smiling at him gently.
"Promise." He said before retracting his hand. Marsden grinned.
"Ah, Ove, if only those two meatheads were like you, this wouldn't be such a pain in the ass." He chuckled before pulling out his scroll, "Anyway, I got dust studies with Professor Zaplight. You?"
Ove nodded and showed him his scroll showing they had the same class that morning.
"Come on then, let's get this shit over with." He said, walking out of the dining hall with the other throng of students, Ove trailing behind him.
8:10 AM – Metalworking/Blacksmithing – Professor Steeltung
Grit stood outside the classroom door, already ten minutes late due to a notification from his scroll saying that he needed to bring his weapon to this class. Why they didn't tell him that this morning he didn't know, but he was already pissed off at having to go back to his room before going back. His hand shook slightly, and he wished he could just have a smoke right now, but instead, he breathed in deeply and walked in.
Stepping into the classroom the small chatter died immediately as he stepped in. Students looked at him from behind workstations and anvils, not saying a single word as Grit stared back at them, waiting for them to say something.
"Ah! You must be one of the new students that arrived yesterday." A gruff voice called out, making Grit turn to see a very short but incredibly muscular man walk towards him. The man had no hair but a long and thick white beard that jostled with his movement, "I am Professor Steeltung, and I run the Metalworking class in Beacon, and you are…?"
Grit looked down at the Professor, who only came up to the bottom of his chest but looked at up as though he were a hundred feet tall.
"Grit Merrick," He bit out, already annoyed at having spoken this much, which the Professor didn't seem to notice but instead caused him to stroke his beard.
"Merrick, huh? Well, Mr Merrick, welcome to my class. Here I teach you how to forge your utilities and armour along with teaching advanced weapon maintenance and care. Usually, pairs have already formed at the start of the year, but fortunately for you, we have one person who is on their own." He looked to the back of the class, where a small girl wearing an apron and goggles over her head was tinkering with something, "You can pair with Ms Ruby Rose over there in the back. Ms Rose!" He called, and the girl shot up with a small squeak taking off her goggles to look at Professor Steeltung.
Her eyes trailed over to the person beside him and widened when she saw Grit standing there, scowling at her. She waved a little, but Grit didn't return it, causing her to deflate slightly.
"If you grab an apron there and make your way over, we'll return to what I was teaching. Have Ruby there fill you in on what you don't know. Go on now." He shooed Grit away, who rolled his eyes and reluctantly followed his instructions putting on the apron and walking over to Ruby, who tried folding in on herself as she stole glances at him now and then.
Standing next to her, he realised he completely dwarfed her in height. He looked down at the table to see a…red box with some screws undone, revealing a blade within.
Is that her weapon? It looks like a pain in the ass to take care of.
"All right, students, now I want you to turn to your partners and discuss what you've just learned."
Shit. Was he done talking? It's only been…Shit, he's been talking for ten minutes!
"Um…Hi! My names Ruby but I guess…uh, the Professor already told you, huh?" Ruby trailed off as she tried to start a conversation with him. Grit turned around to lean on the workshop table, already bored with what was happening, "So…your names Grit huh? Any meaning to it?"
Grit raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing making her glance around awkwardly while leaning back on her feet as she clapped her hands slowly in front and behind her.
"Ookkaayy…Not asking you that again…So what weapon do you have? I've got my baby right here, Crescent Rose!" She gestured to the red box on the table, and Grit looked over it again, not understanding what it was supposed to be, "It's a High-Caliber Sniper-Scythe, you know, a mix of a scythe and a sniper rifle."
"I figured that out from the name." Grit flatly stated making her deflate.
"Oh…yeah, I guess you would."
Grit looked at her downcast silver eyes, and he felt a sense of déjà vu as he watched her. She was so tiny and pathetic that it made him feel bad. Sighing, he reached over his back to pull out Excuser and laid it on the table beside her weapon.
She squealed a bit as she ran her hands over it before gasping and looking it over again before recoiling from it, "Y-y-you," She stuttered before pouting in anger, "It's almost broken! It looks like you've just been dragging it through the dump and flushing it down the toilet!" She yelled, making the rest of the class look at her outburst, turning her face crimson red before pulling her hood over her eyes.
"So? If it breaks, I'll just get someone to fix it." Grit replied, slightly confused about why he was entertaining this conversation.
She looked up, horrified at his words.
"Breaks? Get someone else to fix it? Do you have no shame?" She dramatically pointed at him, accusing him of some crime he didn't know he had committed, "This is supposed to be your baby. Your child. You can't just let someone else fix it! It-it-that's just so wrong." She shivered in disgust while stroking her weapon.
"…Right," Grit replied while looking over to where the Professor was; he was helping out another student and didn't notice Grit looking over at him, "What the fuck are we supposed to be doing today anyway?"
"Language!"
"Huh? The fuck do you mean language?"
"Stop swearing, and I'll tell you!" Ruby turned her back to him, making Grit's eye twitch at her attitude. Not feeling up for arguing this, he just aggressively sighed.
"Fine, I won't swear. Can you tell me what we're supposed to be doing now?"
She looked up at him with a victorious grin.
Man, this kid is annoying as shit!
"Well, we're learning about essential weapon maintenance and getting to know our weapons more, so we have to talk to each other about our weapons and get a feel for other kinds of weapons." She explained as Grit looked on, confused.
"That sounds stupid. Why would I need to know how your weapon worked? I ain't gonna use it."
Ruby looked up for a second as she chewed her cheek.
"Because apparently, there might times in the field where you have to scavenge from other weapons to fix yours up." She snatched her weapon from the table, holding it close to her, "But I won't let anyone take apart my weapon. Never in a million, million years."
Grit looked at her with something akin to worry as she stroked her weapon, "You might be one of the weirdest kids I've ever met."
She turned scandalised to him, "Kid? Kid! I'm sixteen years old, you-you-you poop face!" She stuck her tongue out at him.
"Poop face?"
"Yeah, poop face! Because you stink, and you're rude!"
"…I'll take that." I've been called worse.
"Yeah? Well…good!" She turned back to the bench and put her scythe back on the bench while looking at Grit's weapon. She bit her lip before dashing off to the Professor, asking him something Grit couldn't hear.
What the hell is she doing?
She made several wild hand gestures and acted out a choking motion before clapping her hands together in a pleading motion until the Professor just nodded and shooed her away. She ran back over and stood before Grit with a giant grin.
"Guess what? I managed to get the Professor to let us spend the next hour cleaning your weapon. Isn't that great!"
"No?"
"Wha-whadda, you mean no? Do you want your weapon to look like poo? It's crying right now, can't you hear?"
"I don't hear anything; it's just a piece of metal."
"Bu-but," She looked around before staring up at him with pleading silver eyes, "Please?"
"No, I – " He stopped as he looked at her gleaming silver eyes and felt the strangest sense of déjà vu as the memory of curly auburn hair and apple crumble played momentarily. He closed his eyes briefly before sighing and opening them again, "Fine. But we're gonna talk as little as possible, all right?"
She pumped her fist, "Awright! Let's do this!" As she reached into the tables cabinets to pull out a toolbox.
"What did I just say?"
"Hehe, Oops."
11:15 AM – Combat Training/Sparring – Professor Glynda Goodwitch
Sitting up in the bleachers was Grit, and the rest of team GOSM; around them were empty seats as none of the other students wanted to sit next to them. Grit looked at them as they glanced between themselves and his area.
Looking over, he noticed Ruby from this morning waving at him from across the room with a smile. Grit rolled his eyes and ignored her before turning his attention to the arena where Professor Goodwitch stood, waiting for the students to quiet down. When that didn't work, she unhooked her riding crop to whip it across the ground creating a cracking sound and silencing the room.
"Good morning, students; today, we will focus on full contact sparring. This means that victory can only be achieved in two ways. Aura depletion or a ring out. You may challenge another student or let it be done through randomisation." She looked around the Arena while pushing her glasses up, "Are there any questions?"
When no one answered, she turned to the scroll in her hand, swiping through it. Marsden turned to the rest of GOSM.
"So are you fellers 'gon fight today? I'm surprised you ain't been chomping at the bit for this Sudri." He looked to Sudri, who watched the Arena with a grin on his.
"Ah, Heath, you misunderstand me; I am waiting to see what these people do first. I don't need to go down and waste time fighting against an enemy I know nothing about."
Marsden looked confused, "Yer kiddin' me right? All I've seen ya do so far is scream yer 'ead off while trying to chop up Grimm."
"Yes, but they are Grimm Heath; they all share the same predictability in the end, but man? Man is far more unpredictable than any monster." Sudri licked his lips as he scanned the rest of the seats.
"Hot damn, that might be the smartest thing I 'eard out of you yet."
Grit silently agreed.
Goodwitch looked up from her scroll to look around at the class. Pushing her glasses up, she cleared her throat at the same time.
"The first match will be between – "
"I challenge him, Professor Goodwitch!" Shouted some blonde guy from across the room. Grit looked over to see he was sitting near Ruby and her team. He noticed the blond guy pointing towards him, making Grit look over his shoulder before realising he was pointing at him.
Grit raised an eyebrow at him as the blonde glared in return, righteous anger filling his features.
"Mr Arc, I would advise you not to interrupt me in the future." Goodwitch's severe voice cut back in, making the blonde – Arc? – Cringe slightly and mutter a quiet apology, "But very well. Mr Merrick, do you accept?"
Grit shrugged and stood up, picking up the chainsword on the seat next to him as he walked down the steps, his team egging him on.
"Go on 'pardner, show 'em how it's done!"
"Do not lose Risi! It will look bad on me if you do!"
"Win." Ove's quiet one-word encouragement made Grit roll his eyes at how monosyllabic he was.
The guy talks less than me.
He walked down to the edge and hopped over to land on the ground, cracking it beneath him slightly as he swung Excuser back and forth while going over to Goodwitch.
"I will take that as an affirmation. Mr Arc, if you will change and make your way down to the Arena, we may begin." Arc nodded as his team and Ruby's cheered him on – besides the white and black-haired girls that sat with them – He jogged over to the exit to where Grit assumed the changing rooms were.
Goodwitch walked over to Grit and looked at him with a severe look, "Mr Merrick, I would remind you of the rules of combat we have of engagement at Beacon. When you spar, there will be no crippling injuries, maiming or other serious wounds. When your opponent's Aura is gone, the match is over, understood?" She spoke lowly while looking up at him slightly.
Grit grunted and moved away from her, "…Sure, whatever."
She bristled but said nothing further as he stepped away while they waited for Arc to arrive.
Five minutes later…
Eventually, Arc came out from the changing room and marched into the Arena as Grit stood in his usual uniform, forgoing the usual blazer and held his chainsword out to the side, watching Arc as he tripped up the last step before catching himself.
Getting a better look at him, Grit noticed how…pathetic he appeared. He was scrawny, like he had never lifted a weight in his life, let alone a weapon. His grip was loose and weak, while his hands looked soft; those were not the hands of a warrior. His eyes bothered Grit the most, though; at least most of the people Grit had seen here had that glint in their eye that showed they had some experience in fighting, but this guy had nothing.
Is he fucking with me right now?
They stood apart a few metres as they looked into each other's eyes. Arc tried his best to glare at Grit, but it fell flat when Grit sneered at him, not even seeing him as a challenge making him glance away from Grit's intensity.
"The rules of this engagement are simple; when your opponent's aura has run out, the match is over, or if you are forced out of the Arena, the match will be over. Am I understood?" She asked as Arc nodded, and Grit rolled his eyes before looking up at the giant screen which showed both their Aura's.
Grit Merrick – 100%
Jaune Arc – 100%
"Very well then." She levitated away from the arena, standing off to the side, "Begin!"
As Arc stood up straight, Grit watched as he pointed his sword at him, "You were the one who insulted Pyrrha. As her team leader I can't let that stand." He said while trying to make his voice as low as possible, "I'll give you one chance to apologise or else."
"Or else what, you fucking idiot? Why don't you eat shit and die before I bash your teeth down your throat?" Grit growled, making some students gasp at his words and a high-pitched 'Language!' from the seats.
Arc faltered momentarily before smirking arrogantly, "All right then, you leave me no choice." He put his shield up in front of him, pointing his sword to his previous seating area, "I dedicate this match to you as well, snow angel!" Following Arc's sword, he saw the white-haired girl bury her face in her palms while shaking her head.
Is that his girlfriend or something? And who the fuck is Pyrrha?
Noticing movement, he turned his head to see Arc charging at him with his shield raised in front of him, trying to run him down. Grit merely stepped to the side, making Arc stumble forward a few steps as he swung his sword, only hitting empty air. He had no time to react before Grit booted Arc in the side with half strength but enough to make him go skidding across the floor. He yelped as his sword clattered to the ground before scrambling to pick it up as he got back on his feet.
If Amon and Myron saw me use a sword like this, I would have been beaten senseless…
Watching Arc get back into his position, Grit noticed how close together his legs were as he hid behind his shield. His stance and balance were pathetic, it was full of openings, and it only got worse as Arc brought his shield entirely in front of his face blocking his sight of Grit. Eyebrows raised at Arc's technique, Grit walked over casually to stand in front of Arc's shield and tapped it with his Chainsword making Arc swing his violently in front of him but not hit anything as Grit had already stepped back from him again out of his reach.
Grit looked bewildered before scowling angrily.
Is this standard for a Huntsman now? This guy hasn't got a fucking clue!
"Go, Vomit boy, kick his ass!" A girl's voice called out, and Grit glanced over to see that it was another blonde.
How many of them are there?
"Break his legs, Jaune!"
Looking over to Arc, Grit noted the determination in his eyes and felt sickened by it as Arc got ready for another 'attack'. Grit could feel that familiar anger bubble up inside him, but this time it was different…this time, he felt indignation.
"Are you fucking with me right now?" Grit growled as Jaune looked up, shocked at his words.
"H-huh?"
"I said are you fucking with me right now?"
"No? I'm one hundred per cent serious!"
"Shut the fuck up, idiot, if you ain't gonna take this seriously, then I can't be bothered," Grit explained, losing patience and interest in this absolute moron.
Jaune gritted his teeth and ducked behind his shield again as Grit sighed aggressively before debating whether he should beat this guy senseless.
Should I even bother?... Fuck it; I don't care enough about this anyway.
Grit turned around to walk away as confused murmurings started in the crowd. He didn't care for their stares or judgement; he wouldn't waste his time on someone who couldn't fight back properly.
"What?" Arc called out from above his shield, "Are you going to run away!?" Grit paused halfway in his step before closing his eyes and breathing out of his nose as he heard that. His jaw clenched and unclenched rapidly, trying to smother his anger, but he found it impossible.
This fucking cunt.
Turning around, he stabbed his chainsword into the ground, cracking it as it stayed in place before stomping towards Arc, who got behind his shield again in preparation. Grit was going to show him how much of a mistake he made with that comment.
Marching right up to Arc's shield, he tapped it with his knuckles, making him predictably swing his sword out towards Grit. Unfortunately for Arc, Grit was far faster and snatched his wrist as it came for him making Arc yelp in surprise before Grit twisted it, making Arc shout and then drop his sword. Snatching it out of the air Grit bashed the pommel into his face, stunning him and making him loosen his grip on his shield. Dropping the sword, Grit grabbed the shield with both hands and yanked it away from Arc with virtually no resistance before bashing it in the face again, causing him to cry out in pain.
With Arc now stumbling back and clenching his nose, Grit grabbed him by the back of his hair before pulling him down into his rising knee, creating a horrible cracking sound as Arc collapsed to the ground. The students let out a collective 'ooh', which Grit ignored as he glared at Arc sitting on his knees, dazed and confused. Growling, he booted Arc in the chest, making him slide backwards on the ground.
"OOF!" Arc gasped as he clenched his stomach before slowly pushing himself up while breathing deeply. Grit didn't let up as he stalked towards Arc's fallen body; standing over him he raised his foot and stomped on Arc's back, making him crash into the ground with a yell before doing it again, cracking the tiles beneath him. When Grit was satisfied enough, he hauled Arc up by his hair, looking him in the face; his aura had not broken yet even though Grit had hit him fairly hard. Looking up at the board, his eyes widened when he saw his and Arc's aura levels.
Grit Merrick – 100%
Jaune Arc – 70%
Seventy Percent?! How much fucking aura does this dipshit have? He has this much, and he fights like this? What a fucking waste!
Leaning his head back, he dodged Arc's feeble attempt at a haymaker before jabbing him in the face several times, making his aura flash and throwing him overhead into the ground. Grit looked back up at the board.
Grit Merrick – 100%
Jaune Arc – 65%
Snarling, he let go of Arc's hair and leaned back up to kick him in the stomach and the rest of his torso, making him curl up and protect his head as his aura continued flashing. Running out of patience, Grit decided to finish it by using his semblance; he felt that same surge of emotion that came with his semblance as his aura flashed before flowing into him. He embraced that hellish strength within him and got ready to crush Arc underneath his foot. Arc turned his head to stare up wide-eyed in panic as shouts from the bleachers buzzed in the back of Grit's head.
Is this all Huntsmen have to offer? Is this fucking it?! WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN HERE!?
Until he could barely move his foot which was stuck halfway, Grit was only pushing through by millimetres when he noticed the haze of purple surrounding his body.
"Match over; the winner is Jaune Arc by aura depletion." Goodwitch's voice cut in as Grit looked at her with a snarl. The other students muttered amongst themselves as they pointed at the board above the arena.
"Huh?!" He whirled around to look at the board to see what his aura was on:
Grit Merrick – 0%
Jaune Arc – 48%
"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Grit glared at Arc pushing himself up until he stood on shaking legs looking at Grit with wide eyes that played a range of emotions: awe, fear and even a hint of envy.
"Mr Merrick, I suggest you calm down before you land yourself in trouble. Now please release your semblance and return to your seat." Goodwitch ordered as Grit grinded his teeth together before releasing his semblance and making the other students start talking amongst each other as they pointed back at the board again. Grit looked from the corner of his eye.
Grit Merrick – 100%
Jaune Arc – 48%
"Mr Arc, it has been a week since combat classes started. I implore you to start making an actual effort; otherwise, it won't just be you in danger but your whole team. Am I understood?" She asked as Arc continued looking at Grit wide-eyed, breathing heavily. Grit, in turn, walked over to his weapon pulling it out of the ground, roughly scowling.
"Mr Arc!" She called sharply, making him jump and pay attention, "Did you pay attention to anything I just said?"
"Uh…y-yeah Miss Goodwitch, I uh…I heard you." He mumbled while clutching his ribs as he moved over to his weapons.
"Mr Merrick, I would also advise you to – Mr Merrick!" She shouted as Grit stomped past her towards the classroom doors, intending to leave, "Do not walk away when I am talking to you! Mr Merrick, you – " Grit didn't hear the rest as he slammed the doors open and walked off, slinging Excuser over his back as he marched down the corridors ignoring the shouts of his teammates who called for him to come back and the boos of the students.
"Fucking piece of shit school and piece of shit hunters. What the fuck am I even doing here? To fight a bunch of spoilt kids who never had to struggle for anything?" Grit muttered as he kicked open the main entrance doors.
He walked down the main pathway and down towards the landing pads. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his pack of cigarettes while counting how many were still inside; six.
Pulling one out, he lit it with his lighter and sat down over the edge, his feet dangling as he sucked in the smoke and breathed it back out. He massaged his forehead and tried squashing the twisting feeling in his gut.
"…Fucking moron." He whispered as he thought of Arc's eyes as he stared up at him from the floor.
The eyes screamed with fear.
Grit buried his head into his palms while wiping his eyes as he sat alone on the dock.
Author Notes: Yeah not much happened this chapter besides Grit crawling in his skin, sort of bearing ruby and nearly killing Jaune. Next chapter, I plan to show the POVs of the other team members of GOSM, along with some of the other characters. So that will be interesting to write.
Other than that thanks for reading and I will try to get the next chapter out soon.
Review Reply:
Rangda: Yeah I agree with your assessment, as much as Grit has grown in some ways I think the Grimm are always going to be a sore spot for him. In his mind the best way to fight them is by going to their savage level and you are correct in that sort of mindset should've killed him by now. Luckily for him he's managed to survive by the skin of his teeth and by dumb luck but not without it leaving it's mark on him.
I fucking love Vinland Saga I'm caught up on the manga as the art style reminds me of Vagabond and Berserk which are also dear to me. I went with their archetypes because well...who doesn't love cowboys, vikings and ninjas? I will flesh out their stories later as the stories progress along with their own culture in Remnant which I hope lands.
Translations:
Vinar = Wenches
tâmpit = Moron
MÉR VERÐ EKKI FYRIR TIL VALHALLA ENN = I can't go to Valhalla yet! (Roughly translated)
Álfur = Elf
lævís orð = Sly words
leiðtogi = Leader
Óheiðarlegir, huglausir, himinbúar sem eru of hræddir til að koma niður fyrir sanngjarna bardaga! Til að berjast fyrir landið sitt sem þeir eiga ekki! Þeir munu - = Dishonorable, cowardly, sky dwellers who are too frightened to come down for fair combat! To fight for their land they do not own! They will -