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Chapter 22: Peace of Mind
Whoever these people were, wherever they were in relation to the Wastes, they didn't deserve the same fate that had befallen the Mojave and the rest of the Earth.
These people were peaceful, just trying to survive against one driving force as it pushed them back to the edges of their will. They played a game of survival, against the Grimm creatures, and it was a game like no other.
The swarms of the Legion may be overcome with time and tactic, but the Grimm were relentless, ruthless in their path of slaughter to end humanity; to wipe its existence from the face of the planet. Though distinctly, the Legion and the Grimm held very obvious differences, but one could compare the slave drivers to the manifestation of darkness.
Graham had wondered how the Mojave's factions and tribes would fare in this place, in Remnant. Perhaps they would simply be engulfed by the Grimm, or perhaps the strongest amongst them would ensure fortification from their enemies. Either way, Joshua Graham doubted highly that the Mojave's combatants would ever side, even in the face of an overwhelming threat such as the Grimm looming over them. Somehow, they would trivialise the Grimm as they had the mutated beasts of the Wastes; find a way to throw them aside, keep them at bay, and would ultimately create new wars between their fellow human brethren. Though maybe some didn't consider their enemies humane in many ways; the NCR certainly had such views on the Legion – many did.
As a man of God and a man of peace, Joshua Graham believed that war was not the way to go. He understood the concept of survival, yes; he had seen the lengths a man may go to save himself from others, but that didn't necessarily make it right – nor was it necessary at all.
He had grown in New Canaan, in the eyes of God, and God's eye taught him to love.
But God's eye also taught him to kill.
As was a righteous chore in the Lord's eye.
Merely grazing the level of expertise that these hunters and huntresses possessed was a feat that looked to be physically impossible for Graham, for they seemed to have the unique ability to defy the laws of physical reality. Perhaps it was an unnamed merit of having this 'aura' these people seemed to uniquely possess, perhaps it was something else; either way, Joshua Graham simply could not hope to attain such a level of physical enhancement.
The pilot of his Bullhead, Spring was her name, was apparently also a huntress. It was a quite convenient as Joshua may have had some trouble surviving on his own. To think that he did not have the foresight to request a highly-trained individual accompany him was unusual.
Spring danced about acrobatically with a creative cohesion of rope darts and some form of chain whip. She had tasked herself with clearing the area around the campsite whilst Graham scoured the old abandoned campsite for supplies and to determine the safest structure.
The campsite was an old one, set up by huntsmen and eventually abandoned when it was overrun by Grimm. There was no wall to speak of, just a handful of caravan-esque looking structures that seemed to have been airdropped into the area, given that it was a fairly large clearing and the trees parted for some fifty metres, breaking the canopy quite nicely and showering the grassy opening with a rain of light from the bare sky.
The best candidate for shelter was one of the outermost of the twenty or so dilapidated portable structures. It was the least decayed and actually seemed as though it hadn't been abandoned for the past three years, only in poor enough condition to be considered a year without use. Nevertheless, there was a pile of sleeping bags and basic furnishings lined the small interior. A ways away, he could hear wailing at Grimm; no screams of pain, thankfully.
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Joshua recited quietly to himself as he stepped out the door and back into the greenery.
After trekking to the other end of the campsite, he watched Spring struggle to put down a final Ursa, taking one rogue hit from the creature before eventually being able to put it down.
"A little help would've been appreciated… asshole." She huffed, displaying moderate exhaustion as she wiped her brow free of sweat.
"Our temporary residence is on the far end; a fairly distinguishable shelter." Joshua simply replied, obviously referring to her exhausted condition. She ought to have been through many Grimm to have been in such a tired state.
As she walked past, he picked her muttering, "Some huntsman you are…"
To which he replied: "I do not enjoy killing, perhaps if you had been in a more dire circumstance it would have been considered." She just waved lazily over her shoulder as she dragged herself to the other end of the campsite. Joshua followed amply.
"Y'know," the huntress started as she breathlessly shuffled along the dirt, "There's a lot of commotion going on about you and the other weird-looking dudes back in Vale."
"Oh?" It piqued Graham's attention and he stopped idly fiddling with his personalised sidearm to listen.
"Yeah, yeah, some Atlas specialists showed up yesterday, dunno what they said though."
"They were looking for me? And my companions?"
"Yeah, apparently. There was a ton of chit-chat going around about it. I guess they were impressed by you rags or somethin'. I ain't seein' much." She gave him a quick once-over before traipsing up the metal stairs to their temporary residential space.
"I assume I am to take that as an insult; though the elements of surprise can be a willing advantage in battle." He followed her in through the open doorway, no door to close behind him.
She fell naturally onto the piled sleeping bags, "You don't look like much. Get some fashion sense dude."
"You have no knowledge of my life; you do not know what I have been through. It is best not to judge a book by its cover." He paused with a quick glance about the room, "Where are my supplies?"
"Back in the Bullhead. Go get it yourself."
Spring was, like most (if not all) of the other females he had seen, dressed in quite revealing clothes. Graham really did question the fashion sense of some people. True, these people had aura, which was more than enough to stop a few bullets, but what would save you after your magical bubble collapsed? Some body armour would be an appreciative thought, even just a few metal plates or some polymer, anything really. There was no foresight with these people.
And their weapons were, to Graham, impractical and unnecessarily complex. The weapons he had seen used seemed to be designs directed towards Grimm slaying efficiency rather than general efficiency. Yes, murder was very much illegal and incredibly sparse in such a built society, but who knows when one may have to kill a fellow man? Graham had brought death upon his fellow man too many times; convinced himself they were righteous killings – which some of them were – but most held sinful in the eyes of God: killing under the command of Caesar.
His sins could not be repented, and he had many scars to mark them.
He felt as though his burns were due punishment for his sins; perhaps not sufficient punishment, but punishment nevertheless.
That same pain he had felt when he had been betrayed by Caesar, set alight for the Legion to watch as he was thrown from the edge of the Grand Canyon – that pain came to him every day when the covers were lifted from his scorched skin, when new sheets had to be put in place. The pain was worth it, all to keep the wounds clean.
He had nowhere to dispose of the old bandages, so they were burnt. The lighter fluid and matches he had commandeered from the school served well for such purpose.
Graham's ears perked to Spring's voice from outside and he calmly gathered and packed the remainder of his medical supplies, slipping one of his four stimpacks into his vest. His shoes clicked against the metal flooring as he made his way outside.
"That's a flare!" With sporadic shouts, the huntress fell into a fit of uncharacteristic panic.
"I see it." Graham fluently loaded his signature sidearm and holstered it, taking off swiftly through the treeline and into the belly of the forest.
Team CRDL were in deep with the Grimm; battling a small horde of Beowolves with the occasional Ursa to offer a stronger challenge amongst the peons of the Grimm. The Grimm's eyes screamed bloody death as they charged the students from all sides, snarling and snapping with claw and jaw alike.
Spring sprang into action like an angry dog and shot a rope dart straight into the eye of the Beowolf nearest Russell Thrush, whom had little time for thanks as another Grimm quickly descended on him. Graham fired a shot at the creature and it staggered, Joshua quickly turning his attention to the other Grimm.
The Burned Man quickly noted the inferiority of his 9mm sidearm and took to wounding the lesser Grimm, popping bullets in as many Beowolf knees as he could. It seemed to halter the creatures significantly, eliminating their speed aspect and reducing them to a feeble crawl.
A quartet of feet rushed against the dirt behind him and Graham barely had the chance to turn before something barged into him, sending him tumbling a couple meters across the ground. He recovered through a roll and slid onto his knees, pistol raised to face his adversary, but the Ursa that had charged him, instead of attacking him, barrelled past, completely disregarding the Burned Man. A torrent of air followed it as its form enveloped Cardin Winchester, the kid flailing like a trapped bird and yelling insane profanities. Without thinking further, Graham emptied a new magazine of bullets into the creature's bare back.
They must've felt like pebbles to the thing, much like they were small rocks to the Yao Guai: it didn't seem to shift it one bit.
Spring was occupied.
Sometimes, collateral damage was necessary.
Graham pulled the pin on a grenade. It rolled to a stop a few inches behind the Grimm.
The boy's aura would protect him.
Ate the very least, it wouldn't let him die.
Unloading the medical equipment from the grounded Bullhead would have been a pain with just two people, but Cardin's team, after seeing their leader's poor physical state, were on hand to, quite willingly, help out with some of the heavy lifting. As soon as the first bid was set up, Cardin threw himself onto it and was wheeled into the only suitable living quarters present.
As they unloaded the last of the necessary medical equipment, Spring spoke up.
"So, you gonna tell me what that shit was about?"
Joshua said nothing, silently urging the huntress to continue. She didn't exactly understand what his silence meant, mistaking it for evasion.
"Don't bullshit me, I saw what happened earlier, with the Ursa!"
Joshua Graham stopped his actions, recalling his mind back to the multiple books he had drones through on their first few days in the New Land.
"I am cleansed of hatred, devoid of sadness. Truly, I am still a target but, correct me if I am wrong, Grimm are drawn to negativity. When one may achieve peace of mind, they may become apparent to the world that surrounds them and less apparent to the evils of existence. I am fortunate enough to have been guided towards the light, and though I may never be forgiven fully for my sins, I may still account for those I have wronged, and thusly my hatred disperses. His emotions were stronger than mine, and so it was drawn to him first.
"Cardin and his team still have much to learn; all of these students do. I suppose I will be taking CRDL out on another expedition."