2-3: Dust

"... What's he doing now?"

The Captain gave his friend an animated look, going through the motions of asking that perpetual question. Part of his attention was focused on the ration box in front of him, as he carefully started unwrapping the container, but most of his conscious thoughts involved asking the same thing over and over. Not to be annoying, mind you, but simply because they didn't have much else to do at the moment besides sit and worry. Scrolls, while functional, lacked a proper signal, as their communications array had been wiped out in the blast, and they certainly weren't able to visit the barrack's recreation room from their position.

"Still just sitting there tinkering, and still just talking to himself."

The Lieutenant gave out a sigh as she peeked through the massive cog walls of their cage, trying to get a good look at the room beyond. For the fifth time. Their captor had taken it upon himself to ignore them, settling down in front of one of the workbenches instead as he began molding together something. The first time she spotted this, she was equal parts suspicious and worried. However, that three hours ago; now, she was simply curious as to what the armoured mummy was building.

"It's too small to see, though. Far smaller than that factory arm thing he built earlier." And though she couldn't see it, she was fairly certain the device had an odd clockwork motif. Just like everything else the bandaged stranger had built, the new piece of work he was focused on probably held an inordinate amount of clockwork gears and sprockets, linking together in confusing manners that still somehow worked. She couldn't even begin to puzzle how those things worked, but when she saw the aforementioned arm move for the first time, she gave up trying to sort it out.

Instead, the grizzly-faunus let out a sigh, before turning back to her superior, disheartened once again by the lack of action. Her dejection turned to surprise, however, when she spotted the Captain unpacking the ration box. They still hadn't determined whether the foods were compromised in some way, and yet the Captain pulled up part of his mask, paying no mind as he began biting into one of the energy bars. "Captain! S-sir! Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Honestly? We don't really have a choice, since we're kind of stuck in here." The Captain let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall, his head pressed against the cogs that surrounded them. "And please, Sienna, just use my name. We're not exactly in a position where rank matters."

"Sorry sir, but you slack off enough as it is." Sienna shook her head, maintaining a serious expression for a moment, before finally cracking a slight smile. "So... Do we just wait for something to happen?"

"Unless you have a better idea. Want some?" The Captain took out another bar, offering it to the Lieutenant. However, the moment she reached for it, the man pulled it away, chuckling as he kept it just out of reach. "Well, sorry, but I'm no longer the Captain; I'm the rations quartermaster, and unless you address me by my name, I'll keep all these to myself."

Sure, his tone was a bit forced, and this might not have been the best way to try and diffuse tension, but they really had no other options; It was either fool around with their food, or slowly go insane.

"Fine then, quartermaster Owen. Happy?" Despite her words, the Lieutenant didn't seem to mind the sudden shift in tone, as she snatched the energy bar out of the Captain's hand, lifting up a bit of her mask as she began eating. "But if this kills me, I'm blaming you."

"Hey, it's not my fault. If you want to blame someone, blame our mummy friend." Owen, for the most part, shrugged in response to his subordinate's statement, dropping all formal pretense as he leaned back against the wall. The tiger-faunus paused at his own words, closing his eyes for a moment as he absently chewed at the stick of food. Friend was obviously not the right word, and both of them knew that. He was their jailer, and they still had no idea why they were to be kept under lock and key.

Just what was he planning?

A sudden explosion sounded out, snapping the two White Fang members from their thoughts, immediately slapping their masks back down as they turned their attention outside of the cage. However, they heard the source before they spotted it, as the angry grumblings of the armoured mummy filled the room. This brought no small amount of confusion to the two, but their unspoken question was answered as they spotted the source of their captor's ire: seated directly on the workbench was a frozen block of something, that was on fire.

Yeah. Neither of them had a clue what the mummy was planning.

Unfortunately, Noximelien Coxen was equally unsure of his actions.

Currently, the Xelor was in the middle of attempting to recreate his Noxines, his signature creations from the World of Twelve. Those small clockwork insects were invaluable in his previous efforts, and Nox was certain they would be equally useful on this world. After all, the Xelor had used them for everything, from infiltration and information gathering, to disposable weapons and Wakfu siphoning. Granted, there was no Wakfu to siphon from this world, but the fact wasn't too disconcerting.

It was a matter of fact that those creations acted as Nox's eyes and ears, and his progress in this world would go much more smoothly if he were able to replicate the small devices.

However, his current issue with their construction was a source of power: Since this blasted world did not have any Wakfu, these things could only operate within the bounds of his Dials. And as it stands, he only had this single Dial, which meant his information network only extended to the bounds of these ruins. Considering the shadow beasts already acted as a deterrent, the Xelor had decided to work on adapting his Noxines to this world instead.

Which meant utilizing this powder fuel.

The transition for his first project, the clockwork armature, was simple enough. Since they were mere assembly arms, they were rarely outside of the influence of his Dial. In the rare case where they'd actually need power, their construction was sturdy enough to simply support a larger power supply. This made up for the lower potency of the powder when compared to Wakfu.

However, his Noxines did not have the space to support such increases, so the Xelor had no choice but to experiment with the powder fuel. By itself, the red one was an inadequate source of power, and his previous experiences with the other colours fared no better. Thus, his only choice was to attempt to synthesize something new, mixing together trace amounts of the powders. And this first lab accident was the result of such experimentation.

"... Remember Igole," Nox turned away from his desk, facing the Shadow Wolf that had retreated from the sudden explosion," Red and Blue do not mix in these proportions." Nox gave a tired sigh, his gaze focused on the block of flaming ice. He was still surprised by how spectacular this particular failure was, as it seemed to exceed the bounds of ... Hmm.

The Xelor paused, shifting back into an analytical mindset as he invoked his power. His Dial rang out, and he felt his energy ebb as he slowed down time, trying to figure out exactly how it was maintaining this contradictory equilibrium. His mask whirred as his viewing lens flickered, the Xelor gazing at the block of flaming ice at various magnifications, watching as the odd phenomenon continued consuming powder.

And that's when he noticed that the reaction was feeding off of the two kinds of fuel, as well as the residual traces of Wakfu inside his creation.

"... Now that's interesting."

The Xelor brought his hand up, pointing his palm at the block of ice, his view fixed on the anomaly as he began to siphon the Wakfu. And as he drained the power of creation away, the block began losing cohesion, as the ice and fire began warring with each other, the air singed with some kind of burnt gas that twisted along the flow of Wakfu. The moment Nox finished draining the Noxine husk, the phenomenon lost its form entirely, exploding out in a violent burst of mist.

Nox settled his gaze on the metallic remains, contemplating the implications of this new discovery. Wakfu interacted with the powder, and varying amounts of Wakfu meant it interacted in various ways. Does that mean varying the amounts of powder also affect how the reaction would form? Unfortunately, it would have to be something for Nox to test later. For now, he still had to work on finding a replacement for fuel, and he had no spare Wakfu to work with; just these multicoloured vials.

With a sigh, he repaired the Noxine, making sure it was devoid of Wakfu this time before he began testing the powder fuels on the device once more. Thankfully, he already found out that equal parts red and blue meant sudden explosion, so he simply set to work testing the other proportions, knowing full well how long this process it would take.

However, as always, the one resource he had in abundance was time.

"Sir!"

The Veteran looked up from his report, his expression clearly one of annoyance as he turned his attention to the person who had just entered his office. Jared gave a sigh, recognizing the newcomer instantly, the signature blue hair and unkempt uniform giving him away as that loud brat from last night.

"... What is it, Sparky?"

"S-sir, my name is-"

"We're not here to debate names. Now, what is it?"

There was no effort to curb his irritation, as the Veteran gave a single glare at the youth. To be fair, it wasn't the kid's fault the Jared was annoyed; the amount of planning, tabulating, and organizing that went into sorting out a private army was a logistical nightmare, especially if it was done at the lowest cost possible. He had spent the better part of the day chasing down engineers and supply officers, and now the Veteran had received a message from a certain Ironwood, requesting information for his operative.

And it was because of this that 'Sparky' was now on the receiving end of a death glare.

"U-uhm... Someone told me to inform you that the Dust had arrived." To the kid's credit, he was smart enough to read his superior's mood, and immediately straightened himself out. Well, about as much as a terrified rookie could when under the gaze of an officer with twenty years of violent experiences under his belt.

"... Shouldn't you be telling the Quartermaster that?"

"N-no sir. They said that these were for you." The recruit approached the Veteran's desk, immediately handing his superior a clipboard. The paperwork attached was well above his understanding and pay grade, so the young man didn't bother giving those sheets a second glance, quickly returning to his spot by the door instead. The Veteran turned his attention to the papers.

These were addressed to him. Now that was surprising.

And surprising meant complications that he had to sort out. The man pushed his chair back, rising to his feet with an exhausted groan. It took a few moments for him to collect himself, casually tossing the clipboard aside as he stretched out his legs, trying to shake off the stress. Sure, stretching your wasn't as good as a cigar, but he had to work with what he had. Jared dropped his annoyed expression, stepping away from his desk as he adopted a serious tone, his eyes focused on the recruit in front of him.

"Alright Sparks, lead the way."

"Yes sir." And with that, they were off.

The actual mining camp they were using as a staging area was hardly military base material, but it had enough rudimentary walls and observation towers to serve as a defensive camp. Kind of a requirement in the wildlands, even if this camp in particular wasn't too far from Vale. Coupled with the fact that this place was situated on relatively flatland, and it was little wonder why the people in charge chose to use this particular place as a staging area. Also helped that this mine was one on a mineral vein, rather than one that drew in volatile dust.

The man turned his attention to the massive quarry that the walls had enclosed, watching as machines slowly tore up the land, digging up the precious metals. The workers seemed unmotivated as always, but that wasn't really his problem as a security personnel. And now that he was acting commander of this silly little paramilitary outfit? He was just thankful for the fact that this particular camp didn't have a danger of blowing up underneath him. Accidentally striking more metal was far less volatile than accidentally striking a new cluster of red dust crystals.

With that thought out of the way, Jared shifted his gaze away from the quarry, as the finally two made their way to the loading area. Already, he could see the problem, as a modified bullhead sat down squarely in one of the landing pads.

"... Dust deliveries are supposed to be by truck." He muttered, more to himself than anything else. His orders on this arrangement were clear, as they needed the airspace for the increasing amount of combat bullheads that were flying into the base. Yet, someone had messed up, and now they had to push back their schedule by another few hours. The Veteran shook his head, turning his attention to one of the supervisors instead. "Well, no sense complaining about it. Let's see this dust. Which warehouse did you guys stuff it in?"

"Actually, sir... It's still on the plane." The supervisor gave a nervous cough, his gaze shifting away, trying to balance between avoiding his superior and avoiding the dustplane. "W-we were told to leave it alone until you arrived."

"What?"

Now he had to get to the bottom of this. The fact that it was still on the Bullhead meant that, whatever they were carrying, it wasn't by massive shipping crate. Coupled with the fact that it required him to be present, as well as the odd looks this particular supervisor was giving to the Bullhead... Jared let out an irritated sigh. He had an idea of what was going on, and immediately pulled out his Scroll. The man didn't bother hiding his actions, nor did his subordinates dare question him as he began flicking through the device.

It took him all of ten seconds to find the message from his military friend, and the contents confirmed his suspicions. Rather than question how Atlas had managed to turn Rhinestone Industries into a glorified postal service for their agents, he simply sent an appropriate response.

'She'd better at least have a damned disguise.'

Of course, he'd find out whether she did or not once he stepped onto that bullhead.

He was getting too old for this.

She hurt.

There was no other way to describe it.

But that was enough. The fact that she was hurting meant that she was well enough to feel. The woman immediate begin mentally tabulating her situation: she hurt, but also felt... something soft against her back. Was she in a bed? Cautiously, she opened her eyes, noting that her mask was still on as she slowly sat up. She was... in a room? What was important right now was to make sure she wasn't seriously injured. Sure, her aura was stronger than most, which was why she always threw herself into the fray, but this White Fang Lieutenant was no fool.

She bit back her voice as she felt a sharp sensation against her side, looking down to confirm the wound. Judging by the bloodstains, it wasn't as bad as it could've been, especially given how close she was to the... blast.

That snapped her out of her thoughts, and the Ferret-Faunus immediately clamoured up to her feet. Perhaps not the best choice, given her injury, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. Her head snapped around the room, her eyes darting from place to place as she tried to figure out where she had ended up. She was prepared for a fight, her Cestuses drawn, only to hear the sound of a light chuckle.

The Lieutenant turned to the source, wondering what sort of person would be laughing at her predicament, only to find a surprising sight.

"Hello Ma'am." A certain Deer-Faunus, the leader of the fort's Sentries, was seated on a chair beside. The woman wore a relieved smile, and the Lieutenant couldn't help but return it as she calmed down. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."

"I do..." The Lieutenant took in a deep breath, before sitting herself back down on the bed. That's when she realized that the 'bed' was nothing more than a mishmash pile of fabric, comprised of old blankets and torn clothes. Her eyes drifted away from the pile, taking a moment to fully examine the room. Cracked walls, no window, barricaded door... "What happened?"

"What was the last thing you remember?" The Sentry kept her attention focused on the Lieutenant, her gaze meeting the ferret-faunus's mask with a resolute expression. That's when the Lieutenant noticed the scarring, the tears and cuts that covered half her face, marks that remained in spite of aura. "... And please, don't worry about me."

"I... Remember heading towards the communications room, after the Captain gave his orders. Along the way, I encountered..." She paused, as parts of the fight flashed back to her. Ursa Major. Heavily armoured, talons and plates covering most of its body. No spikes, odd for its species, but not notable. It took her far too long to fight it. "... resistance. By the time I finished, the Captain gave new orde-"

The Lieutenant immediate snapped her gaze back to the Sentry. "... What happened? Is everyone okay? Did they make it out in time?"

"Don't worry... Most of them got away... The rest made sure of it." There was no smile on the Sentry's face, as her gaze shifted to the corner the room. The Lieutenant's eyes followed, apprehensive, unsure of what to find.

There, she saw a single candle, surrounded by dozens of White Fang masks. Each bloodied, scratched, chipped or outright snapped in two.

The Lieutenant could only offer a solemn moment of silence, taking off her own mask as she closed her eyes in respect. But all they could spare was a moment, as the sound of distant laughter broke the silence.

Laughter. Who would dare...

"Iris..." The expression on the deer faunus's face was equally grim, as she turned turned to face her superior. Yet, she still made the effort to push the conversation, to try and help out the Lieutenant. "...As I was saying, most of them got away. I watched them board the trucks while you were still fighting."

"So... they're okay?" Her voice was soft, as the Lieutenant's gaze drifted down to the floor. "I'm glad to hear that, at least... But what happened to you?"

"You know my Semblance..." The Sentry gave a light smile, her arm flaring up for a moment, before fading away. "I won't go down that easy to grimm. Once the Captain gave the order, I saw you from my spot on the wall, and decided to support you and the rest of the engineers... Well, support you, since you told them to leave you behind. Don't worry, they got away as well."

Iris remembered that much. The beowolves inside the empty depot, the few remaining trucks... It was an easy call to make, especially since they only needed one person to make sure the dust went off. And now that she knew her actions weren't in vain, the Lieutenant gave a soft smile.

"At least you didn't try to go out in a blaze of glory." Her companion's voice caught Iris's attention once more. "You had the sense to at least take cover, even when you were only a few feet from the crates. Your aura managed to absorb some of the blast, but not all of it. I got off a bit better, since... you know. Still, you were knocked out of the building, barely clinging on to consciousness, so I dragged you out to one of the few buildings that managed to survive."

The Sentry gestured to the room around them, but the Lieutenant honestly had no idea where they were. No windows, and the door was shut. The room itself had no features beyond the candle on one side, and the pile of crates on the other.

"That was yesterday... I know, you probably have some more questions, but I told you the most important parts." The White Fang Lieutenant watched as her companion rose to her feet, making her way to the crates in the room. She quickly opened one, revealing their contents, exposing the stash of snacks as she tossed a chocolate bar to her superior. Under normal circumstances, this would've earned her a lecture, but for now, Iris was just grateful for the food. However, it seemed like the Sentry wasn't quite finished yet, as she made her way to another crate.

"Now that you're awake, we can finally rescue the Captain."

"W-what? The Captain's okay?" This brought light back to the Lieutenant's eyes, as she shifted her gaze back to the Sentry. "Wait, did you say rescue? What's going on?"

"... The humanoid grimm captured him. I spotted him inside the armoury yesterday." The deer faunus began opening the second box, pulling apart the lid as she tossed it aside. She then reached into the box, pulling out a smaller container, this one far more intricate than a simple crate. "I don't know why, but that doesn't matter. Because we're going to bust him out."

Iris turned her attention to the container, watching with curiosity and concern as the Sentry took out a small key from her pocket, unlocking the box. It only took the woman a few moments to reveal the contents, and the Lieutenant's eyes widening as she spotted what lay inside.

"And we'll be using these."

Nestled safely inside the box, surrounded in a protected shell of foam, were dust crystals. Pure red, and immaculately cut.