Back with Chapter 49. After nearly fifty chapters, I am finally approaching the events that I have been working towards for so. Damn. Long. I know that I should have been able to do it with fewer chapters, but this is still a learning-curve for me.
Tuutje07: damn, thanks. I don't know if I can agree with that, but it still one heck of a compliment. I do take pride in the many hours of research I put in my work, but in my opinion, every writer should do that.
RedGOzilla: that beginning was my attempt at a flashback chapter. Also, I have many things planned for Blackwood as well. We just need a bit…patience. Just a tiny bit.
"Whatever this might have cost us, it also proved invaluable for the future. We now know that Semblance is definitely influenced by both the psyche as the genetic recombination. Subject Brimstone didn't develop this peculiar manifestation, but her daughter inherited it. Established has been that Operative Blackwood was suffering from psychosis before Operation WALLSTORM commenced, which might have been the reason why his Semblance is so uncannily similar to that of Brimstone's offspring. What I am wondering now…is why this particular family has not stopped causing us problems. First Operative Rose, then Subject Brimstone, now their next generation is undoing OUR next generation. This should stop. And…I think I know just the right method."
-Personal diary of Professor K. Greene.
Day 79, Beacon infirmary, 09:23
"You shouldn't have done that. That was not necessary."
"Frost, Field Agent, three-three-five-six-one."
"But he called you a freak."
"Is that your real name? Or is that a lie too? Do you even know who I am?"
"Will, you could have gotten hurt again. You said soldiers get executed for attacking their bosses."
"Frost, Field Agent, three-"
"I am ordering you to tell me what happened!"
"That doesn't matter. He insulted you."
"And you nearly killed him! What did I tell you about that? You don't hurt people when it isn't absolutely necessary!"
Operative Greystone watched the furious General trying to get the wounded Frost to talk, to no avail. It was frustrating to watch, but he had to be patient. Headmaster Ozpin had assembled all the students, including the exchange ones, in the amphitheater for another one of his speeches. Initially, Greystone had wanted to go with the rest of the students to watch. There was someone he owed quite a bit. But then he had spotted Ironwood sneaking off to the infirmary with his guards, and the plans had changed.
The Agent turned to face Ironwood for the first time. "Frost, Field Agent." There was a noticeable pause, but then, "three-three-five-six-one."
It seemed that the General recognized the proper procedure for replying to hostile interrogators, as he stopped his fruitless labors. "You know, Frost, thanks to your helpful interventions, thousands of people are going to be in the dark for the coming months. People who have family in other Kingdoms, people who need help, people who are dependent on communication…you messed this up for all of them. I hope you feel responsible, because I am going to do everything in my power to set this right."
Trying to talk guilt into Frost of all people?
"And as soon as I do, I am going to drag you, and everyone involved with you, before martial court. Intentional sabotage of governmental structures is a punishable offense, as is refusing to work with the General of Atlas armed forces. Have a good night."
And the angry Ironwood stormed out of the sickbay without ever having spotted the Operative lurking in the shadows. As soon as the threat was gone, the Field Agent turned his head towards his direction and said, "Why are you here?"
Greystone looked at the closed door for a while, wondering if Ironwood was petty enough to listen at the door. Then it struck him that he had remained unnoticed, and that there was no reason for him to do so. "Verification…and information. Was it Subject Fall?"
"Yes."
"And you were ordered not to hurt her?"
"Not a hair on her head."
"Why?"
Frost narrowed his eyes, staring right through Greystone's visor. "That's a question I've never heard any one of you ask."
What, the question why? Of course he had never asked that question before; you didn't question orders. If you did, you would get badly hurt. But those times were gone now. "Irrelevant. Onyx wants Fall alive. Continued programs?"
"That would be my guess."
"So why the CCT? Spite?"
For a split-second, it appeared as if Frost smirked. But when he next spoke, his voice was calm and collected, and his eyes empty and dull. "Improvisation."
Improvisation. It didn't look like it. It looked more like Onyx was starting the cycle all over again. He…had not expected that to happen in his lifetime. "Leaving Vale completely in the dark will only worsen their capabilities in the coming war."
"Then I'll leave the warfighting to you…sir."
Greystone sighed and turned away. This wasn't going anywhere…and he had to be honest with himself here. He didn't care what global plan Frost had been ordered to execute. He just wanted to know one thing. "Do you know where Professor Greene is?"
"Her?" This time, there was honest shock in his voice. "Why her?"
"That's classified. Do you know or not?"
"Of course not. Only Eventide or the Themeluesi knows that."
Then the Agent wasn't of any use to him. "And where is Eventide?"
There were a dozen questions that Frost could have asked him. But if there was one thing that the Agent could be trusted with, it was keeping a secret. His loyalty lay only with himself, and nobody else. "I don't think he is in Vale. You might want to ask one of his Lieutenants."
"Yale didn't know either."
"Then good luck."
The Operative didn't reply to that. Another headache was peeking its head around the edge, and could feel that it was a big one. They were getting worse every passing day, and there wasn't a lot he could do about them. Yang had made it obvious that she wasn't going to let him go, so he had to change most of his plans. Perhaps all of them.
The hallways were empty and devoid of noise. But that wouldn't last long; soon, all the students would be done with the speech and they would pour into the Academy again. He would have to walk amidst the people once more, and it was getting increasingly hard to stay focused.
The headache and the whispers struck him roughly at the same time. He could feel his legs giving away underneath his body and the floor rushed up to meet his face. He only barely managed to bring his arms up for protection in time, and the impact still rattled his body. His arms as well, probably.
"Who are you? Where am I?"
"Easy," he muttered, carefully crawling back to his feet. His vision was blurry and greyish and his heart was beating harder than it should. Hurting, too. "Calm down."
"This isn't –where –who are you! Let me go! Let me GO!"
"I don't know what is going on. Please, calm down miss."
"Shut up! SHUT UP! Where am I? Where are mom and dad? Who are you!"
He didn't know. He had never known. Weeks of raving, screaming madness, and suddenly she was talking. Had been talking. Now? "I don't know…please…please just stop screaming…" he whispered. It had been so long ago…and he could still feel her around everywhere. She still was around everywhere.
Three days of war. And at the dawn of the fourth day, he would die. That had been the plan. That had always been the plan since he had regained his senses, months ago. Everything he had done, had been to account for freedom. Since her forced amnesia had broken. One last attempt at protecting him when she was gone. He could have never taken his own life, but others could have. Just days from now…it had been so close.
Except that it hadn't worked. The various criminal organizations had failed to kill him, Mantis had failed to kill him, team RWBY had failed to kill him and even the Grimm had failed to kill him. He was still stuck in the dark void that was life…except that it wasn't dark anymore. He had found somewhat of a purpose…a home. Someone who actually cared for him, and did not want to hurt him.
And that was a problem on its own. He couldn't plan his death now…but that didn't mean it was averted. Without her, he was still going to die. And he could feel it, too. His body was slowly shutting down, breaking apart.
Torture was designed to break you in three places. First, your body. Then, your mind. Your soul was the last thing to go. Except this was in the opposite order; he had enough awareness left to understand that there was something fundamentally wrong with his mind, and his soul had fragmented a year ago. Nearly…exactly a year ago. His body was the last to go, and that was where things became difficult.
He wanted to live. He wanted to live, together with people he cared for. But he wasn't going to live, if he didn't find a way to resolve this soon.
Will clawed at the ground when his knees gave out again. He cursed under his breath, and felt a wall to his left. Using that to brace himself, he slowly pulled himself together again. He hated this. He hated this weakness, the constant sensation of being backed into a corner. And he hated Frost for destroying the CCT, with insulting timing. He had been so close to finally finding some resolve –to finally cope and move on.
It appeared that Ozpin was already finished with his speech. Outside the amphitheater, pockets of students were gathering around various screens that listed potential missions. There were Atlas students, Mistral students and even Vacuo ones. Of course, there wasn't anybody Onyx present, and that was a good thing.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Will marched into the chaotic fray that was the collection of young students. He kept a close eye on everybody he came near, and more than once he thought that people were moving to confront him. All three times he had felt the adrenaline rushing into his system and all three times he had prepared himself for a fight. And all three times it had just been another false alarm.
He did his best to remain calm in this mass of voices, movements and signals, and it was always much more dramatic in his head than it was in reality, but he just couldn't let his guard down for one second, because someone would come for him the very second he did, and the attack would always come from a direction he had not prepared for. S
Ancilla had taught him that not everybody was a hostile. That there were good people, living their lives, waiting for situation where they could do something good. But he couldn't see those people now anymore; he saw team RWBY and a room filled with hostiles.
But RWBY was good enough. Because people near them weren't truly hostiles. People near RWBY were JNPR and LACG and teachers, and those would only hurt him if he attacked them.
Headmaster Ozpin calmly walked towards Ruby and Will froze, doing his best to blend in with the people around him. That was a hard thing to do, even with the new outfit he had puzzled together. No helmet, no black suit, no armoured pieces. Just the Kevlar-layered shirt, cargo-pants and a trench coat that was waiting with his mask in the hangar bay. With all the strange and colourful outfits here, that wouldn't be a problem.
It was ironic really. Before he had been sent to Beacon, neither him nor Onyx existed. And now everybody knew about Onyx –and a good amount 'knew' about the events that had transpired with the White Fang at the SDC's warehouse.
Oh well. There were rules about that, too.
He waited carefully until Ozpin turned to leave, and then approached the four ladies. Blake was the first to notice him. He had been trying to remain stealthy, but he must have made noise or something. Again, he was losing his edge.
"Morning," he said.
The rest of the team whirled around with a collection of alarmed cries and faces. Yang was the first to recover, but Weiss still beat her to it. "Stop sneaking up on us!" She snapped. "You really need tostop doing that!"
That was right, people didn't like it when they were being tracked without a reason. "Sorry. So what's going on here? Why all the…students?"
"Ozpin told us that the Kingdom is slowly falling apart," Ruby told him with a smile on her face. "The Grimm are finally showing themselves, and it's up to us to keep everything together until we can come up with a solution."
"And the missions?"
"Where have you been sticking your little head?" Yang said. Her smile was even bigger than her sister's. "We're going to shadow Huntsmen and Huntresses and 'uphold the peace', as the Headmaster put it."
A peace operation? Wait…should he warn them? If they were going with a professional Hunter, they would be okay. Still…he didn't want any of them hurt. Everyone knew what peace operations really meant. Extermination. Genocide. Pain.
"Are you…going to be alright?" he carefully asked.
"Why, are you worried?"
"Yes," he said with a shrug. And that seemed to be enough to surprise Yang, as she didn't immediately reply. "I am. Be careful, alright?"
"We're not going to let some Grimm get in our way," Blake said with her calm voice. It was nearly soothing to his aching head. It was just the fact that she didn't really understand what he meant what got to him.
"It's not the Grimm I'm worried about," he told them. "Where are you even going?"
Ruby and Weiss exchanged a glance. "To the south-east," Ruby then carefully said. There was something in her expression that ringed an alarm-bell in Will's head, but he didn't quite grasp what it was. He tried looking at Weiss and Blake, but he lacked the insight to read any of it.
"Just…be careful."
Ruby walked past him, turning towards the exit of the amphitheater. "You know us. We'll be fine."
…did he really know them? Did he know what drove them? He knew Yang better than the rest…but was that enough to inspire confidence into him?
Deciding to walk after them, Will said, "Fine. So where will the rest go?"
She shrugged. "No idea. Knowing LACG, they'll probably go after some creepy guy with bombs. I don't know about JNPR though. Why are you so worried?"
"I'm not-" That was Ruby again, seeing right through…everything, he supposed. Was it really that obvious? And why was his first reaction an attempt to fabricate a lie? "-fine. I just have a bad feeling about this."
"We'll be alright," Ruby replied as they walked through the exit, towards the staging-ground for the various dropships that would be ferrying them across the country. "Teams generally tend to fare better than single persons. What will you be doing when we're gone?"
The way she put it, it was almost as if he would get in trouble. The guess wasn't too far off; Ruby had been closer to the truth than all the others, and sooner too. Immediately after he had taken the brunt of the Tormentor, actually.
No, what he had planned no longer involved penance. At least not from him. The first thing he needed to do was find Mantis. And then, he was going to join her and hunt down Eventide.
If he didn't need to beat her down first. "The usual," he said, watching a badly-damaged dropship touch down and open its doors. A feeling of rising apprehension and anticipation took a hold of his stomach, but he tried not to listen to it right now. "Classified operations. Details are irrelevant."
Four figures exited the dropship; a tall one, and three smaller ones.
Team CFVY.
Operative Greystone felt a sickening sensation of hate creeping through his body. It banished out the ambient noises, conversations and even thoughts, until there was nothing left but the desire to hurt. To maim and break and tear and not let up until he was alone among the dead.
Hostiles were massing around the four threats, taking up positions to flank them. Adel turned to look at a figure with black clothes, who was staying near the back and waving at Scarlatina.
The Operative felt his hand go for his holster, where his pistol was begging for blood. He could feel his spine tingling, his fingers itching, and his mind racing to analyze the situation for the optimal approach. There were at least two dozen enemies ahead, mere meters away from him. They were armed, and some were already moving his way. He saw heads turning, hands going for guns and blades being pulled.
Kill them. Battle-trance, two seconds, eighteen KIA.
His sidearm was halfway out of its holster when an enemy soldier grabbed him by his shoulder. The only reason that he didn't immediately reply with lethal intent, was because a little voice inside of his head told him that the touch was too light and gentle to be an attempt to kill him.
No. Calm down. They're just kids, again.
"Hey, you alright?"
The Operative looked over his shoulder, and saw a blonde girl holding his shoulder with her hand, giving him an expression that couldn't be further away from betraying murderous intentions.
"That's just Velvet's team. They returned a week later than normal, but at least they're still in one piece."
Shoot! Open fire before they hurt you!
No! Not again, breathe!
They're hostiles. Hostiles get neutralized-
NO! Stand down, STOP!
Will took a deep breath and pushed his sidearm down again. His headache was back, but it wasn't as bad as before. The ground was still spinning though. "Yeah I…" the students were just genuinely glad to see the second-year students return. No ambush at all. "Felt a bit crowded." He spotted someone else standing in the crowd of people, and remembered the whole "shadow-a-huntsman" thing. He wished that he could go with Yang instead, but it was a welcome distraction. "Your Huntsman is waiting you," he then muttered. Of all people, she was the last one he wanted to know about his festering irrationality.
"Wait, our Huntsman?"
As it turned out, Professor Oobleck wasn't quite the Huntsman that the girls had been waiting for. But his appearance was all that Will needed to fully calm the bloodthirst that had nearly claimed him and get his head back under control. What would he have done if Yang hadn't been there to snap him out of it? He had often thought of team CFVY as a threat to him, even if it only was because of Coco's sheer hostility towards him and other Onyx personnel, but it had been quite some time since he had last gotten that far. Ancilla had broken the conditioned link between getting food and killing, but sometimes...sometimes he could still feel the emotional satisfaction of a particular kill. Sometimes there was nothing to hold him back.
Just one more reason to find her. Not disappointing Yang.
Unidentified airship, 9:45
The Sergeant-Professor exhaled a large whiff of smoke and lowered his mighty cigar again, dropping a small amount of ashes onto the metal floor of the dropship.
"So I heard you boys got your asses handed to you during CQC lessons yesterday?" the man suddenly asked, nearly startling Dove Bronzewing in the process.
"That's not what happened," Sky immediately and predictably replied, his voice echoing strangely through the cramped interior.
Another pull of the cigar. "No? Then tell me what did happen. Cause the way I see it, this team lacks discipline."
Dove winced. He didn't know why, but hearing the tough-looking Professor speak badly of his team was harsher than hearing that one of the people they had attempted to bully was a full-fletched psychopath.
"Please," Cardin said with a huff. "My team has plenty of discipline. That lesson was just rigged."
"Rigged? You mean to tell me that one of my honest-to-Remnant colleagues rigged one of their lessons just to get at you and your team? Winchester, you ain't that important."
Cardin crossed his arms and looked away angrily, but he didn't seem to dare go against Sergeant-Professor Johnson's will.
Russel, however, did. "We specialize on close-combat. The fact that we lost, has nothing to do with our skillset."
Dove caught a flicker of movement in the cockpit of the ship, and narrowed his eyes. It appeared the pilot just put on some ear-pads. That was probably a bad-
"I MENTIONED THE BASICS ONCE, DID I NOT, MISTER TRUSH?"
Sign. Ouch.
Flattened against the metal wall of the ship as he was, Russel could only nod in agreement. The Sergeant-Professor nodded as well, grunting in satisfaction. "Look back at your fight with Pyrrha Nikos. Why did you lose?"
"Because she was more skilled?" Sky suggested. It was a careful, well-thought suggestion, especially since they had no idea what the Professor actually wanted from them.
"Was she? Four of you, against one of her? GET TACTICAL BOYS! Nikos beating 'yer asses ain't pure skill. It's her being better coordinated than you lot. If you don't learn to work together in the field, you are all going to die."
Were they? They had heard a lot of those sorts of speeches since they had arrived at Beacon. About how they would need to work, and how they couldn't afford to hesitate or make mistakes. But the Professors made as much mistakes as the students did, and with all this Onyx-crap hanging over their heads, there hadn't even been time to be worried about dying yet.
"Yeah right," Cardin then muttered, displaying his foul mood again. "We've got four years on this education. Four. If little girls and blond idiots can make it, we have nothing to worry about."
"And if you didn't want your ass shot off, you shouldn't have stuck it out so far. But I guess today's when you learn the hard truth. How far are we?" That last part was aimed at their pilot.
"ETA two minutes. Air-control's a bitch today, and we can't get much closer. You boys will have to wander through the mud for a few days," the pilot then replied, frightening Dove even more than Johnson's statement about 'finding out today'.
"Ehm…Professor?" he carefully asked. "What do you mean with the hard truth?"
"Glad ya asked. Ever since the Luna-Arcadia conflict, people have been pushing for peace more than before. They created this bigass temple-thing that's supposed to serve as a beacon of hope and light in these dark days. The bad news is, they got Grimm bad-guys knocking on the door."
"Luna-Arcadia?" Sky asked with honest curiosity. "Wasn't that the Death-war?"
"It's a damn silly name, but yeah, that's the one. Thousands dead, virtually nothing changed. The coming few days, we get to walk a few miles in their shoes."
"Whoah whoah whoah, wait, we're not going to fight in a war, are we?" Cardin loudly asked, alarm creeping up in his voice.
"Of course not. We're just sweepin' and clearin'. Get in, kill Grimm, get out."
"Technically, mankind is at war with the Grimm," Dove quietly said.
The dark-skinned Professor looked at him for a moment, as if appraising him. "Damn right we are. Now buckle up kids! We're going in."
The dropship lurched to a halt and then stopped completely. The bays opened, allowing Dove an unbridled view of his surroundings.
"No way," he gasped, momentarily forgetting that he was on a mission with a certified Huntsman. Forgetting that he was here with his team, and that they had already had these sorts of exercises.
"Welcome," the Sergeant-Professor said with an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "to the No Man's Land between Luna and Arcadia."
The wind blew eerily between the few remaining stubs that had once been trees. It wasn't raining, yet the air was humid and cold. Misty, too. The ground –if it could even be called that way- was filled with craters and patches of water, as far as they could see. What remained of the trees were blackened and smooth, like they were made out of black glass.
The mist made it hard to see, and there weren't any buildings or things like those anywhere. The ground was soppy and wet, and it looked like there had once been hills all around. Only holes, patched and craters, now.
"What's that stench?" Sky said, coughing and holding his hand for his mouth.
Dove understood what he meant; it had taken him a few seconds to process it, but the air was thick with the stench of…what was it? Sewers?
"I don't think that's just the mud," Russel then said.
"You are looking at the result of weeks of full-fledged warfare," Johnson then said. "Our objective is about four kilometers to the east. But stay alert; this place ain't safe."
"Not safe?" Cardin then repeated, pulling his boot out of the mud with a wet sound. "How's that? Didn't the Death-war end two years ago?"
Dove took a step forwards, and hit something solid with his right foot. He sighed and knelt down, staring at the patch of mud where a small piece of metal was sticking out of.
"It did. But just because the humans stopped fighting, doesn't mean this place did."
Bronzewing slowly reached for the piece of iron, wondering if he had found something of importance.
A hand grabbed his wrist in an iron grasp and pulled it back, roughly.
"Don't touch," Johnson said, his face mere centimeters away from Dove's. "Watch." He then reached for the metal protrusion himself, yanking it out of the ground and throwing it into the air with one smooth movement.
A heartbeat later, the metallic item exploded with the force of a grenade. Cardin and Russel cried out with awe and alarm, while Dove felt a cold pit drop into his stomach. He had been about to pull that thing out and observe it himself…would his Aura have saved him from that, too?
"Damn," Sky then said. "That was close."
"He thought of the might he possessed, and not of his foe," the Sergeant-Professor then said.
"Err…what?"
"It's a saying kiddo. For those who recklessly throw themselves at any situation without thinking."
That…well, that was actually kind of true. Was that why they had lost against Nikos as well? Because they didn't know how to hold back and observe?
"Now get a move on. We got a schedule to follow."
"Sir, yes sir," the four boys said in chorus. And after that, it was over with lessons of theory. Because their march across the desolate lands demanded so much of their physical prowess and attention that there was barely any room left for talking. With every step they took, the mud would suck in their boots and cause them to stumble, or outright fall. More than once, one of them needed to help pull out a helpless teammate who had gotten too stuck to escape on their own.
"Balance Lark!" Johnson eventually shouted. "Feel the ground, and don't fall face-first into the mud!"
Russel carefully hauled a distressed Sky Lark out of a fresh hole into the sticky, viscous mud. Dove watched the two stumble away with a mixture of feelings. Why had Johnson taken them here? Why were they here? This place...they didn't belong here. This battlefield was supposed to be one big graveyard, stained with the blood and tears of thousands.
So where was it all? He could definitely feel that there was something around…a sort of bad feeling…but he couldn't see or hear it. It was just…just a bad feeling. Were there more of those traps around? And what were they? They hadn't stumbled upon more of those things, but Johnson was keeping them on a very tight rad. They weren't allowed to deviate one bit.
And then Russel stumbled too, and Cardin was quick to catch him. The big guy grabbed Thrush by his arm and stopped his fall, and just in time. A large roll of…thick metal wires with barbs and hooks was just…just lying around, sticking out of the mud at ankle-height. Gross-looking, black pieces of clothing –or worse- stuck to the barbs, and Russel had just been a foot away from crashing into it.
"Holy crap!" Cardin exclaimed pulling out his mace and pushing the row of wire out of the thin path they had been cutting through the wastelands. "Which sick bastard left this lying around?"
Russel awkwardly rubbed his throat and grunted. "What is that? Why is that here?"
"CRDL, meet barbed wire," the Sergeant-Professor said with a grim voice. He was wandering a few meters ahead of their team, scanning the ground with his uncanny, dark eyes. "Prevents infantry-charges, grenadiers and ambushes. Aura might protect against the points, but you can't escape being tied up in the stuff. Makes for an easy kill…"
Dove swallowed and gave Russel a small nudge. "You gotta watch our man. We're not welcome in this place."
"Don't be so stupid," Cardin snapped. "There's nobody here. Nothing."
"Then what is that there, in the distance?" Johnson immediately replied, pointing at something in the north.
"What-"
Bur Dove saw them. Dark figures, moving and twisting, rampaging through the mud. Grimm, and lots of them.
"Get down, now!"
Dove and Sky immediately dove to the ground, not caring that they sank multiple inches into the mud. Cardin seemed hesitative to do so though, until Russel pulled at his arm and punched him in the side.
"Move!" he hissed. After that, Cardin got down as well, if grudgingly.
"This is your game, kids," the Professor then muttered from his prone position. "Come up with an ambush-plan and take these freaks out."
Ambush-plan? Dove was already having trouble with not drowning in the mud, let alone thinking of a way to ambush an enemy!
Why wouldn't the Professor take these Grimm out? He was armed…wasn't he? He had to be, he was a Huntsman. But why wasn't he taking action? Why was he just lying there, waiting for them to deal with this? Was it a test?
"Ambush…right…" Cardin slowly said.
"Come on, you're the leader," Russel hissed at him. "What are we going to do?"
"We ehm…we wait it out for now. See what they do."
Wait it out? Grimm? Those creatures could sniff humans out within seconds! There was no waiting here!
"Why aren't they seeing us yet?" Sky asked.
"They're blocking our way," the Sergeant-Professor said. "We need to take them out. Any time now."
There were Beowolves. About fifteen of the things –they could take them, but…it would be close.
"Alright, enough waiting," Cardin then said, crawling upright. "Let's take them out!"
Upon hearing his shout, a larger Beowolf turned their way and uttered a few guttural barks. The rest of the pack snapped to attention, and before they knew it, the team was dealing with a horde of charging creatures.
"Get the bastards!" Sky yelled, and that was all he could say before the tide of black bodies was upon them. Dove gripped his sword tightly and recalled what he had learnt about fighting with it. A Beowolf jumped at him, and he immediately swung with a diagonal swipe. He carved a red trail through the monster's body, but the ground shifted underneath his feet and he sank knee-deep into the mud, much to his horror.
But he didn't have the time to shout for his team. More Beowolves jumped at him, and he utilized the gun-function on his sword in an attempt to slow them down. Of the five shots fired, only four managed to hit, and only one of those was a headshot.
Three of the Grimm closed in before he could fire off a sixth shot, and he felt something hard and clawed crash into him. He fell backwards into the soft mud, with a large Beowolf on top of him. The ground sucked him in, immobilizing him, covering him in the brown goo. He swung his still-free arm and cut the a limb off of the creature on his chest, buying himself some time. But he couldn't get free; the mud was too deep, and the muscles in his stomach were already working overtime to keep him upright. The second they gave in and fell backwards, he would drown, just like Professor Johnson had told them about this place.
He didn't want to die. He wasn't going to die.
Dove groaned and wrestled his other arm free. If he could just twist his hips a little bit, he could get himself free-
-another Beowolf lunged for him, apparently out of nowhere. Dove couldn't help it; he screamed and kicked with his legs, but that only drove him deeper into the mud.
A gunshot tore through the air, and the Grimm's head exploded. The lifeless corpse fell to the ground, mere inches away from Dove's legs, and someone grabbed him by the front of his armour, pulling him out of the mud without trouble.
"Sloppy," Johnson commented, wielding the most massive gun Dove had ever seen in his life. "Go get your partner."
Dove nodded, and splatters of mud went everywhere. He didn't know what was worse; nearly dying in the mud, or having disappointed the only Professor he genuinely respected. Well, he did know what was worse, but it was very close.
The rest of team CRDL wasn't much better off. Russel was flipping back and forth between various Beowolves, but he too slipped too many times to properly push the creatures back, and he was being forced on the defensive. Sky and Cardin were separated from each other, and the leader was currently locked in a death-struggle with an Alpha Beowolf. The large and plated creature had a tight grip on his mace, and Cardin was stuck in a battle of physical prowess.
Humans didn't win such struggles with Grimm. Normally, Cardin could have wrestled his weapon back from the creature, but not this time. The Alpha Beowolf had some sort of strange, reverse grip on the head, and it was actually pulling Cardin out of balance. It was slow, and it had patience.
Patient Grimm.
Sky screamed and slashed at a different Beowolf, bisecting it. Then he struck at the larger one wrestling with Cardin, but it side-stepped and pulled the human with him, forcing Sky to abort his attack mid-lunge.
The creature was displaying actual tactics. Things that they had learnt as well!
Dove aimed his sword at the nearest Beowolf and opened fire, riddling it with bullets. It gave Russel the time he needed to take the fight to the Alpha Beowolf and knock it off balance. In turn, Cardin ripped himself free, stumbled backwards and then crushed the head of the Alpha Beowolf with two violent strikes.
After that, it took them another few minutes to drive off and kill the remaining Beowolves. The ordeal left Dove shaken and covered in mud. He could feel his knees shaking, and his arms were trembling. But despite it all, he felt alive. His body was warm and breathing and he was aware of every single sensation that he experienced.
"You boys finally done?" Johnson asked with his rough voice. Apart from that one intervention, he had not attempted to help them once.
"Finally done?" Cardin exclaimed, looking exhausted. His chest was heaving and there was sweat running down his forehead. "We wouldn't have had any problems if you had helped us! Sir."
"And then what?" Johnson said with a shrug.
"Then maybe some of us wouldn't have nearly died!" Russel added.
"And then what? You came here to Beacon for one thing only: to become the sworn protectors of mankind. In your line of work, you will get into one near-death scenario after another. You all knew this when you signed up. Tell me this: what will you do you need someone, but there ain't anybody to turn to? When you are the highest available, and it's still not enough?"
They remained silent. And that was enough for Johnson, who merely wiped some of the mud off his arms and pressed forwards.
It took Dove around half an hour of desperate hiking through the desolate mud-lands to gather his courage again and ask the Professor the question he had been meaning to ask for a while. "Professor…Sergeant…Johnson? Can I ask you something?"
The man grunted.
Dove took it to be a 'yes'. "Why are there Grimm here? I mean, there aren't any humans here…so why?"
"Yeah," Sky said, running a few paces ahead to catch up with them. "I expected them near this temple we're supposed to be visiting, but-?"
The Professor took his time answering them. He took his cigar out, carefully extinguished it and stuffed it back. Then he unsheathed a large, wicked-looking knife –one that looked strikingly familiar to Dove- and observed it for a minute. "The creatures of Grimm are attracted to negativity. Emotions of…terror…and hate…and loneliness. Everything that makes you desperate. They can feel it. And they flock to it. Nobody knows why. This place has seen weeks of death and misery and pain. Thousands upon thousands of souls have died here…on this piece of land, half a dozen miles long. And in their dying moments, often lonely and terrified, in terrible pain, the men and women who fell here left their imprint on the land."
"What, like paranormal?" Sky asked, probably honest too.
And Johnson had to feel that it was an honest question too, as he didn't even chew him out. "I don't think so, no." This was the first time the Professor admitted to not knowing. So this place did that to everyone who tread there? Turning them solemn, nearly humble? Insignificant perhaps? "But emotions leave an imprint, no matter the scale. Think of a toy you cherish as a kid, or something like a shrine, where hundreds of people visit. It's why people who have been suffering from things like depression get picked out of a group by Grimm. Or why people with PTSD are more likely to be attacked."
"So the more you feel like crap, the bigger the chances are they get to you?" Dove asked.
"That's the gist of it, yeah. Some people are so messed up, even the Grimm leave them alone. But that happens rarely."
"I heard that people who go off to commit suicide are often stalked by dozens of Grimm," Sky then said, his voice assuming a quiet and awed tone. "They watch, but they never interfere."
"Could be true. This place is stained with blood and death, and soon, it will be infested. Both Luna and Arcadia often dispatch men to take care of the Grimm when they get too numerous, but they can never rid this place of its history. It's locked in time, according to Headmaster Ozpin. The mud never hardens, the sun never shines, the scars never fade."
"Like a curse."
Up ahead, Cardin stumbled and fell on his hands and knees. He was quiet for a few seconds, before he started screaming.
"So we're safe now?"
"Safe? No, there's about a billion Grimm out there waiting to tear us to bloody pieces. But if you want to pretend you're safe, that's fine by me."
Lisa sighed and crossed her arms. "Can't you just pretend that things aren't about to escalate into total chaos every single time we get involved?"
Professor Adamant waved his weapon-thing around and checked the door. "Why bother? It's more fun this way."
"Sure," Alessa dryly remarked. "Fun." The girl was one of the few that weren't covered with ashes, because she had had the foresight to duck.
"And you are sure that there was no other way?" Grace asked. "I mean, I could have just tried to disarm it. We could have been even safer."
"Nope. Too dangerous, too much risk. Big bang necessary. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to think, so hush."
Jason Mauve Cho slowly shook his head and walked to the shattered window, observing the detonation-site on the ground. This one was skilled at playing the public…utilizing fear as a weapon. Those were the most dangerous, too. The psychos that could manipulate the innocent into a shield.
"So what now?" Lisa then asked. "How do we find her this time? Wait for another mistake on her part?"
"No…no no no no…no. No. This wasn't a mistake, this was a bait. A taunt. A piece of meat, if you will. Actually, scratch that last one, it's horrible. No, she knows that she's got a team of students hunting her down. Even worse, she knows that it was the same team who took down the other terrorists. And what happened to Sandy again?"
"Onyx spirited him away in the night," Jason replied.
"Right. If I were to guess, she sees you as a game. Victims to play with, until the has you completely wrapped around her finger, after which she can dispose of you as she sees fit…only she failed to account for one thing."
"And what is that?" Grace asked, with no small amount of skepticism.
"Me," Matt then said matter-of-factly, before opening the door again. For the fifth time since they had taken shelter in that hotel. "So…public bomb to lure us in…we detonate it safely, no victims. She runs off, we track her down again. Right! Business. Cho-"
"-Jason or Mauve-"
"-no, just Cho. I need you to track her down again."
Jason sighed and dropped his head against a nearby wall. "Track down the veteran terrorist? Sure, why not. Do we have a trail?"
"Sure we do. Judging from the position of the wind…the direction of the sun…the caliber of the bomb…yeah, she'll give us a new sign. She would want to taunt us, see what this team LACG can do. And what is you can do?"
"Not die a horrible death?" Lisa replied.
"Possibly avoiding getting blown up to death?" Grace suggested.
"Fire as well?" Alessa added
"Exactly. And that is your major power. The last thing we want, is civilian deaths. We avoid that…by mass-evacuating this entire neighborhood. Only that won't work. So either we force her into Grimm-territory outside of the city, or we track her down again. Cho! Made any progress?"
"In the last minute, with no trails to work on? No forensic details? With the only lead being a homemade bomb that you had to blow up for scientific reasons?"
"Yes?"
"No."
"A shame. Lisa, solve this."
"What, you want me to find Cho something to work on?"
"Is that what I asked? No, I want you to solve this. Solve this until this bomb-lady lies tied up in our hands, ready to be delivered to the arms of justice."
"What an image," Alessa replied.
Grace grunted quietly and stepped back. "Just to clarify…"
"…I meant the terrorist. Didn't think I needed to clarify that."
"Well, you can never be too sure."
"Alrightie then…Grace? Get down to the 'splosion-site and find something interesting. Cho, look around for any trails the woman might have left behind. Scraps of clothing, hairs, that kind of stuff."
Jason nodded and turned to leave the building. This "field trip" of theirs was slowly taking a turn for the worse. Matt had arranged for them to finish their personal arrangement instead of simply shadowing him on his operations…but had he done that to help them stop a lunatic, or to savor his own ego? It was clear that he viewed the terrorist as a threat, but he also viewed her as a challenge to overcome.
It was odd, really. Grace's heritage wasn't exactly common knowledge, but they had all accepted her, as they had accepted Alessa. Their team existed out of ragtag social misfits and oddities, and they all accepted each other's flaws. But this was something else; there was a link between all of this. A bomber going nuts in Vale, a fetishistic creep calling in rogue mercenaries and a crime lord working together with the White Fang…it was all linked together.
So why wasn't Onyx putting a stop to this? Why could they allow all this to go on without stepping in?
"Guys," Alessa then chimed in, "I've got something. Or someone. She's making her way to the south."
"South it is!" Matt Adamant then yelled, making a strange, spastic movement with his arms.
"You heard the madman!" Lisa then yelled with an equally loud voice, "LACG, move! Alessa, how far?"
"She's still in my range, but she's moving fast. I'll lose her in a few seconds…"
"Cho!"
Jason nodded and jumped out the window. They all had their part in this play, and this was his. Hunting down criminals had been his job for quite a while, so it shouldn't come as a surprise.
He rolled over his shoulders and broke into a flat sprint. Behind him, the three members of team LACG joined him. He had a head start though, and Grace was hardly as fast or durable as he was.
It crossed the ex-cop's mind that he might well have to face down the omnicidal terrorist in his own, and he knew that he couldn't win that. On his own, he could match every individual member of CRDL, but against types like Greystone, Blackwood and Yang, he was just outmatched. For that he had his team –and his team would be busy catching up.
But that didn't matter. He had his little job, and he was sticking with it. The woman Alessa had spotted was audibly moving away from him, but he hadn't spent years honing his tracking skills for nothing. Ever since his father had pressured him to join the VPD, he had been working to improve the general level of the entire force. Not that it had had any effect…
Jason rounded a corner, sprinted down a messy alley and stumbled upon a main street –and with it, another problem.
"You have GOT to be kidding me," he grumbled. The madwoman had fled into a busy shopping-lane, where there were currently dozens of people wandering around like blind sheep, unbeknownst to the terrorist in their midst.
As he gazed around the street, wondering if he had another hostage-situation on his hands, the rest of team LACG stumbled in.
"Did you find her?" Lisa asked.
"Yes," Jason replied with a deadpan stare. "I have her in my custody. Can't you see her?"
"Nope."
"She's still here," Alessa quietly remarked. "But I can't find her yet. "
"Matt?" Lisa then said, turning to her brother. "Magic touch?"
But the Adamant merely threw his hands in the air and said, "I permitted you guys this little trip instead of some boring shadowing-operation, but you will have to solve this on your own. I'll only interfere when things get dangerous."
"So if I shove my gun in your face-?"
"Dangerous for other people."
"Ah."
Jason sighed and took a few steps towards the busy street, observing the individuals around him. Their target was a female, with long, light-blue hair. Psychotic too; perhaps narcissistic. She couldn't be an extremist, as she had displayed none of the signs. She wasn't trying to make a martyr out of herself, too. She was working with Crimson, who was working with Miss Fetish, who was working against Onyx, with Roman Torchwick, who was working with the White Fang, who were also against Onyx. And that was just briefly touching the surface of what was really going on. Couldn't things ever be simple? Why did everything have to be so convoluted?
There were a few women around that gave him odd looks. None of them resembled who they were looking for…thought the bomber could have easily gotten her hair fixed…
He focused his gaze on utilities. Belts, equipment, phones, anything electronic. That narrowed down the number, but there were still too many long-haired women with electronics.
She would need to hide herself. People with bright hair –like Neptune, or Pyrrha- often stood out. She had to hide herself, or she would get nailed too soon. She would have a cap, or a helmet, or-
A female standing a few meters away from him caught his attention. She wore a sunhat that concealed her hair, her vest was loose-fitting and her shoes…were the kind of shoes you needed when you had to make a quick escape.
Jason immediately aimed his wrist-mounted electrified-synapse-launchers at the suspect and barked, "Hands on your neck on your knees now!"
"Dearie, you're not making sense," the woman said with a small laugh that sent shivers down Jason's spine. "Do you want my hands on my neck? Or on my knees?"
"Hands on your neck," he repeated, slowly this time. Had he been that nervous, to ramble like Ruby? "And get down on your knees. Do it now."
The woman slowly placed her hands on her neck and turned to face him. Her irises were pure white, and they betrayed absolutely nothing safe for a morbid interest and curiosity. She wore a gown underneath her vest, and that reached to her knees. Everything about her appearance said that she was just a tourist searching for the sun…except that there was no sun.
"I take it you are Mauve, yes?" she said, as if she were a long-lost relative of theirs, waiting to be reintroduced. It felt so wrong. "Still breaking records to get daddy's attention?"
"Be quiet," he snapped at her. The rest of his team caught up with him, but Professor Adamant stayed near the back.
"So this is her?" Lisa then said, crossing her arms. "Crystal? You messed up, missy. Your big bad bomb failed to go off and time, and we had all the time we needed to properly break it down."
"Ah, but it still went off, did it not?" The woman eagerly responded. "And that will be on the news. Beacon students failed to prevent explosive from going off. Dozens of civilian deaths, dozens more wounded in gruesome manners-"
Jason had to resist the urge to break the woman's jaw. "Everything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to remain silent."
"Yeah," Lisa added. "And for the record –our record- nobody died today. Grace here stripped your bomb to tiny pieces and blew the rest of up with a safe demolitions macthingie. No casualties." She was quiet for a few seconds, before she quickly added, "Bitch."
He had been waiting for that one.
"Oh, and you are the little Adamant! First in line to change the line of mental disorders and megalomania in your family, am I right?"
"How about I take that hat and make you go fu-"
"We're taking her in," Alessa cut her off. "She knows too much."
"Midnight! As lovely as ever!" Crystal then continued, much to Jason's horror. "Didn't your parents tell you that it's impolite not to look at people's eyes?"
Alessa remained perfectly calm, much to her credit. It was ever-relaxed Grace who lost her calm and lashed out at the woman, punching her in her face before she could say anything else.
"Let's gag her and give her to Onyx," the furious demolition expert loudly said. "See if she can be cocky then!"
"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Crystal replied, never taking her eyes off of the looming members of team LACG. Her hat had fallen off, revealing her long, pale hair. "Just like mommy. Don't want people to spill their guts in the metaphorical sense, do you?"
That was a low blow.
Alessa took a step forwards and brought her heel down on the woman's unprotected stomach, hard. Violently.
"Alessa, stand down," Lisa sharply said. "We need her alive and conscious."
And Jason whipped out his little notebook. "Let's take the photo when we're moving. Don't want people to think we abuse our prisoners." But the damage was already done. If there had been any doubt about it before, it was gone now. Crystal was related to the Allburn group…or what was left of them. That made her a bigger threat than before, and it made Grace a bit more of a problem. How did this woman know about things like Alessa's subject-name? Only Beacon knew about that, and only LACG knew about the more personal things.
The terrorist coughed and wheezed, but she didn't break her stare. And she didn't stop smirking.
"Mommy-dear is not amused," she said, laughing. This was not what Jason had expected from someone who used civilians to deliver bombs. "And you know what happens…" she ripped her vest open before anyone could stop her, revealing an interwoven system of small, but undoubtedly IED's. Two wires led to her hips, where the detonators had to be positioned. "…when she gets upset with her family."
For a split-second, Jason could understand what it was for people to have their lives flash in front of them. Vague memories and visions of his past, his father and his mother, his friends at the VPD, cultivating in his acceptance at Beacon and the formation of team LACG –and all of that ending with the vision of an insane terrorist pulling her own suicide-vest in both hands.
Before he could actually do or feel anything else, however, one of the detonators on the terrorist's hips neatly split into two. Underneath it, the skin and flesh also parted, all the way to the bone. The woman cried out in pain and alarm as blood welled up from the wound, and Jason heard someone approach them from behind.
"Actually, I have no idea what happens when miss Allburn gets upset. But I am very interested in finding out," Matt Adamant said with what had to be least interested face the world had seen in weeks. Contempt, anger, but no interest. An Adamant thing? Perhaps.
"What the hell," Lisa cried out, her weapon partly unsheathed. "I nearly had a heart-attack! Why didn't you do that sooner?"
Sooner? The thing had just fallen apart on its own! Was that the Professor's Semblance? No, the woman had been hurt as well. What was even going on? Grace's parents were dead! Nailed by the police, years ago! How –what?
Crystal didn't have an immediate response to that. And Jason had the feeling that it was for the better that she kept her mouth shut –he could not guarantee her safety if she kept her attitude up. Lisa might be a great fan of her Adamant code, but Alessa wasn't. And when it concerned her partner, everything was acceptable. They had learned that during their brief time on the battlefield, during the expedition to the North.
Whatever Professor Adamant had just done, it had prevented the bomber from taking team LACG with her in one blaze of glory. It had also put her at their mercy –and as of now, their mercy wasn't that much to speak of.
"What does she mean?" Grace asked, turning to the bigger Adamant. "My mother is dead –grannie said so herself!"
"Easy, Grace," Lisa said as Cho and Alessa hauled the bomber upright. "We'll find out. How much Dust do you have left?"
"I didn't take much with me –Alessa's allergy makes it hard-"
"I get that," Lisa cut in. "How much?"
"Enough for a few minutes of sustained bursts. Gets easier with my Semblance, but that gives me a headache. Why, time for another interrogation?"
"Do think it's not time for an interrogation?"
He shook his head. "That's not it. There's…people watching."
"Then we commandeer an empty building. Nobody needs to watch."
11:28 No Man's Land.
Cardin screamed and kicked himself backwards, away from whatever it was he had just seen.
"What is it?" Russel yelled, rushing towards the fallen leader. Behind him, the rest of team CRDL as well as Professor Johnson carefully watched their surroundings. "What happened?"
"It's a body!" Winchester tore himself free from the sucking mud and attempted to crawl upright. "It's a freaking corpse!"
"What?" Both Sky as Russel jumped backwards, while the Sergeant-Professor knelt down next to the Cardin-sized hole in the mud, which was already closing itself. He cautiously wiped some mud away, revealing a mud-dripping and severely-decayed hand, easily sticking a foot out of the treacherous ground. "That's a body alright."
Dove turned away, feeling his breakfast rising up in his throat. He managed to keep himself together and composed well enough though, remembering Professor Seraphim's lessons in martial arts and the importance of breathing-exercises.
Sky wasn't that lucky. He doubled over and retched, dumping the contents of his stomach all over the already-foul ground.
"What's it doing there?" Russel asked with no small amount of panic in his voice. "Weren't the dead cleared?"
"Why d'you boys think we're not cutting a straight path? The place is still riddled with mines, traps and discarded weapons. Never noticed the occasional explosion of a Grimm wandering too close to the little stubs on the ground?"
Dove couldn't say he could.
"Those stubs are the remains of warning-signs. The people left, but the place is still at war. There's still hundreds of corpses scattered throughout the land. Perhaps more." He gestured at the protruding arm and quietly added, "Looks like this poor bastard was only inches away from being found, too. You alright Winchester?"
Cardin slowly nodded, using his mace to brace himself. He was looking paler than ever, and his eyes were wide and shocked. "There are bodies just scattered across the land? Hundreds?"
"Yeah, I just said that!"
"Why?" Sky asked with a weak voice, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.
"Why? Because they disappeared. Or because they died somewhere where it was impossible to gather the remains. Remember history, kiddos. Those who fell, were quickly claimed by the mud or the rain. And pity the brave fool who was running out into the No Man's Land to gather the wounded after dark. Marksmen and snipers were waiting for those suckers."
"That's horrible," Cardin muttered.
"That's life. When the entire world is based around hiding from monsters and training people to fight them, simply to live in peace, you'll get war."
"Did General Ironwood fight a war? Like actual combat?" Sky then asked.
"I'd be willing to bet my left pinkie on it. You don't make General without being a supreme badass…though I think Ironwood's also got a political position, if someone at Beacon whipped his ass."
"Wait, what?" Dove said, managing to push the image of the decaying limb out of his mind. "A student attacked the General of the Atlas armed forces?"
"Shouldn't that be a diplomatic incident?" Sky added. Russel nudged Cardin, who softly nudged him back. Softer than he had ever done before.
"It was never proven that it was a Beacon student. For all we knew, it could've been Onyx, or the White Fang. It's being investigated though."
"Think that Greystone guy had something to do with it?" Dove then asked.
Johnson merely shrugged, and gestured for them to get a move on. "Dunno. Ozpin trusts him, but Professor Seraphim doesn't. Neither does Goodwitch, or Ironwood for that matter."
It didn't escape Dove's notice that Johnson only used the honorific 'Professor' with Seraphim, and not the others. It could be mutual respect, as the wolf-Faunus was not only ex-military, but also an "ultimate badass", as the Sergeant would have put it.
"I can imagine that…" Cardin grumbled.
"Can you imagine anything right now, with all that mud in your face? Come on Winchester, the dead never hurt anyone before. Pay your respects, or move on."
Security breach in Sector 16-D. Time of incursion: 17:14. Redirect Fireteams to following coordinates.
The scroll on his wrist buzzed again, and the voice of a female echoed through the cramped hallways. "Are you certain of what you have found?"
"Of course I am certain," Operative Greystone replied as he approached a rapidly-descending blast-door. "Ironwood never knew, but the technology was always there, in the form of Penny. Her father-"
He had to pull his wrist away from his wrist to properly slide through the small opening of the door, with only centimeters to spare. There were three Troopers inside, but he didn't recognize their callsigns. He had his sidearm at the ready, even as the three soldiers had theirs. The resulting firefight tore up nearly all the monitors and screens, though the windows were made out of bullet-proof material. He delivered several lightning-fast jabs at the face of the first trooper, cracking his visor and temporarily dazing him. He then grabbed his head and jumped upwards, bringing his knee to bear with controlled movement. The second one lunged for him with a large knife, but he twisted away, grabbed the soldier's elbow with both hands and brought his foot down hard. The joint shattered with the sound of a gunshot, and allowed him to weave behind the soldier, dive underneath his other arm and pull him to the ground, dislocating his shoulder at the same time.
The third one brandished a shotgun and opened fire, forcing Greystone to cartwheel out of the way. The searing pellets tore through the bullet-proof window behind him with one shot, and the soldier shifted his aim for a second shot.
But he was still much faster. He rolled out of the way of the second salvo and moved in close, slamming the palm of his hand into the solar plexus of the Trooper, who bent over and cramped up. One roundhouse-kick to the neck later, and the fight was over.
"You alright over there?"
"There was half a fireteam waiting for me in the control room."
"Did you kill them?"
Greystone looked over his shoulder and at the prone Onyx soldiers. He imagined being with Ruby, who petted him on his head, appreciating his effort to not kill anyone when they weren't a threat. The thought made him feel oddly peaceful with himself. "No."
"Right. You were saying?"
"Penny. Anti-thesists were right; artificial lifeforms can't generate an Aura. If the soul is based on experiences and memories as well, it would be impossible to mechanically create Aura."
"So Atlas got tech that can hold an already existing soul?"
"Yes-"
A boot scraped over the metal ground and Greystone whirled around, facing one of the soldiers that had jumped upright. The trooper charged him without weapons, obviously intending a close-quarters battle.
If he insisted. The Operative took three steps forwards and brought his slammed the palm of his hand against the chin of his enemy. Then he jumped over him, hooked his leg around his throat and pulled him to the ground. He tightened the muscles in his leg for four seconds before letting go. The soldier went limp in his blood-choke, his body giving out under the lack of oxygen.
They were sloppy. Probably younger ones, too. Onyx had thousands of Troopers, and most of them were around their age as well. Skilled, strong, brash. Undisciplined.
"-they do, but they are not aware of it. Probably a peace-offering from the Themeluesi."
"Will, you know that this is…hard to believe."
Greystone shook his head. Hard to believe was one of the reasons he didn't dare go to anyone else with it. He finally had a semblance of peace in his life…and he didn't want to lose it just yet. "When you and I fought, I didn't have my Semblance or Aura. I still don't. Could you think of a different reason for me to do this?"
"That is true. Man, I just can't believe that Onyx could actually…actually do something like that. I just thought it was some sort of a pet-shrink or something."
Despite the respectful tone, Will couldn't help but feel his temper fluctuate at that remark. "She was my greatest failure. If I can free her now…perhaps there is still a chance to make it right."
"If I understand this…and I think I do…it means Onyx will hunt you down-"
"LET THEM!" Will shouted into the scroll, losing complete control of his temper. His voice echoed through the room and one of the incapacitated soldiers stirred. "I…"
"Ease up. You're with Beacon, right? Ozpin will help protect her."
Another headache struck the Operative and he had to grab the nearest computer for support. "Sorry...what I meant to say…meant to say…was that there is a structure on the edge of the Kingdom. It matches the…coordinates that Yale gave me…and it seems to belong to Atlas. Once I clear this place out for the security codes, I'll make my move."
"Yeah…except for one thing. If you clear this place out, Eventide will know. And if he knows, Greene knows as well. You won't be getting anywhere near that facility once she knows. So whenever you move…"
"Expect the unexpected," he replied, jabbing a data-cable into the mainframe of the computer.
"Strike without mercy."
"Show them no fear, show them no pain."
"And never look back."
One of their unofficial creeds –the more heroic ones. Right now, it fit.
There were a lot of files on the computer. Security details, list of Damned children and how to recruit them, a filter with possible locations for Operative Blackwood and even an intercepted communication line between Professor Goodwitch and Headmaster Ozpin, detailing how Goodwitch would track down and eliminate Blackwood.
The outpost was positioned on the twentieth floor of one of Onyx's Sanctified bases. Basically a skyscraper in a military base –and it had been a pain to get into. Beacon dropships had the tendency to get shot down, even though their pilots were actually quite good. He had been forced to organize an aerial drop, after which he had rappelled down a dozen stories to get to the information room. They hadn't expected him, otherwise he would have run into dozens of Fireteams, turning the brief infiltration into a bloodbath.
Alice had proven to be an invaluable ally, once he had told her the truth about the Catalyst Program. It was a shame that their friendship had been shattered by everything that had transpired in the years, but desperate times could cause desperate alliances.
It was all moot now, though. Despite his change in plans, he knew that everything would depend on him clearing that Atlas/Onyx structure. If he was lucky, Ironwood would get in his way and try to stop him. If he was unlucky…
His scroll buzzed, and this time it wasn't Mantis calling him. He looked down at the small device and saw that the enemy had taken their next step to get to Vale. It was a general emergency call, coming from team RWBY.
Yang…
Greystone looked at the data pouring into the hardened DSM module he had prepared for this data-transfer. It wasn't finished quite yet…but from the looks of it, RWBY was in some real trouble. What would he do?
"Some people can see it as funny how this went...and in theory, I can relate. Wallstorm perfected the synthetic Semblance and a new way of Aura-Bonding, unlike evolution and warfare has ever seen before. And Onyx has been waging their warfare for a looooong time. But instead of ending this cycle and bringing about peace, something went terribly wrong. The Grimm are evolving to counter the abilities of mankind and in turn, we are evolving our techniques to counter theirs."
the sound of a loud sigh temporarily distorts the interview
"How do you mean?"
"I mean that our first experiment with the ACE was both a success as a failure. The Operative managed to eliminate all the White Fang terrorists at the SDC's hall, but the fight was so violent and loud, that nearly all official groups in the city heard what happened. The Catalyst couldn't keep the Battle Trance in control, just like Blackwood can't control his." another sigh "The Dancer, the Marksman and the Brawler. All can keep fighting for three days straight, and all can be used to beat back entire Grimm infestations. But the second they try to go deeper, innocent people and civilians have to die. Why can't things ever be simple?"
Next time: the Grimm show us just why they are feared predators of man instead of dumb animals.