A Step too Far
Chapter 6
An old Titan decides to climb off the walls and take a step away from the Traveler. He never intended to walk so far. He never regretted taking that step.
In the blink of an eye, years had passed. Seasons changed from summer to autumn to winter to spring and back to summer to begin once again. New buildings rose and old ones fell, people came and went. Through it all, Signal's light shone brightly, never dimming and visible from every corner of town.
Blake saw all this through her window. No longer the timid girl she once was. She was now a confident young woman who yearned to prove herself against the wild world. She frowned, perhaps that wasn't the best way to describe herself. In fact it sounded more like her friend Yang.
The blonde girl had definitely grown up, now she was even more outgoing than before, owing to her passion to seek thrills of all kinds. While her body earned dropped jaws and lustful gazes from just about every boy she crossed (and envious sneers from a few girls), she was adamant that she'd never once, nor ever would, use it to gain anything. After all, she preferred using her fists to resolve disputes.
Early in her teen years, Yang had developed a rather fierce sense of vanity towards her hair, taking every single precaution to care for it, to the point where she is triple washing it in the showers and meticulously drying it with several towels. Anything else she does to care for it is completely secret to Blake. But whatever the cost was, the result was spectacular. The blonde girl also made every attempt to help her younger sister, Ruby, with anything she asked, even if it was simply baking cookies.
Regarding young Ruby, she was admitted into Signal a couple of years ago. While the young girl didn't have many friends at first, preferring to stick around Yang and Blake, people quickly flocked to her after her first duel with another student. Ruby's skill and fascination with anything weaponised finally came into play when she was assigned to create her own weapon. From her time training under her Uncle Qrow, the innocent girl had gathered an impressive amount of skill with the same kind of weapon, a Scythe.
And so her pride and joy, Crescent Rose, was created. A high-impact, high-recoil Sniper-rifle and Scythe combination. With her semblance, her sheer speed, she can use Crescent Rose to deadly effect. Her specially designed Dust cartridges are capable of such power as to fling her at high-speeds alone, combined with her semblance and her skill with the weapon, she has garnered an almost unbeatable track record in the Academy Arena. She was however, consistently outshined by her big sister, Yang, in terms of combat.
"Come on Sis'" Yang taunted with her arms wide open, daring her opponent to attack. Said opponent was her little sister Ruby. Their current fight had been going on for a few minutes and Ruby was beginning to tire.
It was the school's yearly internal tournament, a little competition the teachers thought up to determine the best prospects for future Hunters. The students were given a selection of 'practice weapons' to use in the stead of actual weapons. The current fight was the finale, a fight between the two daughters of Professor Xiao Long.
Ruby took the bait and charged, using her semblance to close the gap in a flash. She slowed down behind Yang with her practice Scythe wound back for a sweeping strike. The blonde ducked below the swing and swept out the red head's legs from under her. Ruby was unable to move out of the way from her big sister's counterattack of a solid uppercut to her solar plexus.
Yang's last attack had sent her sister's aura into the red, eliminating her from the match. While Ruby pouted at the unfairness of the match, Yang simply picked her up and swung her into a piggy back to carry her out of the arena.
Whilst Ruby had taken after their Uncle (after he foolishly allowed her to look at his weapon), Yang drew her fighting style straight from their father. She, like her father, was a straight up brawler, using her fists to do the most damage possible. Her weapon, a pair of gauntlets dubbed 'Ember Celica', launches explosive bolts of fire dust as a projectile attack. These bolts are also often used to improve her already impressive damage dealing when punching. This, alongside her training with her father's training have already made her an impressive combatant to face. But when the added factor of Yang's semblance is included, any fight is virtually impossible to win for her opposition.
Blake had noted on several occasions that Yang's semblance activated from rage at a particular target. Most of the time, Yang's hair was involved. The one other time, Ruby was involved. Blake had caught a young boy sneaking glances at Ruby. The moment that he tried to talk to the girl however, Yang's eyes changed colour and the boy was suddenly embedded in the nearest wall.
"U-umm. Excuse me? R-Ruby?" Spoke a meek voice, one could feel the boy's attempt to gather every scrap of bravery.
THWACK! CRACK!
"Yang Xiao Long and Ruby Rose, report to the Headmaster's office."
Yes, the last few years were fun, Blake figured, her smile reflecting in the window. Her wardrobe had extended drastically, mostly due to Yang and Ruby. Her collection of books had completely filled the bookshelf. The walls of her room were now decorated with posters and photos of her and her friends. She couldn't help but sadly note the lack of her father, Praetor, in the pictures. He was always away on missions earning money so they could stay afloat.
The prices for tuition at a Combat School were steep, especially for them. They barely had enough to keep their heads afloat. Despite the costs, Praetor managed to spare no expense when it came to Blake. If she wanted to buy some new books, he would allow it. Some new clothes? He simply handed her his card and told her to get whatever she wanted.
She finally saw the effects when it came to her second year. Praetor was consistently tired, ate little and was never home for more than a day. At first she thought that he was tired of her and wanted nothing to do with her.
"Please, don't go!" Blake wailed, hugging her father close and burying her eyes into his chest. "I'm sorry! I don't know what it was that made you hate me, but I'm sorry!" She heard him take a deep breath and felt his large hands stroking her hair gently, the action calming her down and slowing her sobbing.
"Blake, I'm not leaving and I could never hate you." He whispered into her feline ears. "If anyone should apologise it should be me." He pulled her away from his chest and held her shoulders gently, locking his eyes to hers. "I'm sorry I've been gone so long, but I need to so I can keep you in school."
"But I thought that we had plenty of money?" Blake hiccupped, wiping her tears away. She hated crying, it made her feel helpless again.
"Not as much as I'd like, I'm afraid." Praetor scratched his chin with a light-hearted chuckle. "Combat School in Vale tends to cost a fair bit. Add the rent, groceries and taxes. We're barely scraping by…"
Images flashed in Blake's mind. Begging for scraps, hiding from the rain in an alley and sleeping in a box. She hugged herself. Now that she was grown-up, who knew what she would be forced to do in order to live.
"That's why I'm taking more missions. It might be a while before I can earn enough so we can be stable. But I know you can bear with it and stay strong for me." He gently clasped her hand between his and gave her a smile which she couldn't help but reciprocate.
"Okay. I'll be strong, Dad." Her smile dropped instantly and her entire face flushed a cherry red. She never meant to say it out loud, it just slipped out. Blake froze completely for a full second before she suddenly broke his grip and ran straight to her room, her hands desperately trying to hide her face.
"Oh, so it's 'Dad' now?" he called after her. A warm feeling swelled in his heart. He did not lose his smile for another two days.
She smiled, ever since then she was encouraged to call him father, much to her embarrassment. Never the less it brought the two of them that extra bit closer. It was something that she had wanted ever since Praetor had promised to never leave her side, to be able to call him 'Father' without him rejecting it.
Blake still kept the knife he gifted to her from then, albeit in an altered state. During her tuition, she attended a class for creating weapons in her fourth year. The class encouraged creativity and ability in the creation of the weapons as opposed to practical and predictable weaponry. This created a predicament for Blake, as she had trained with her knife and handgun for several years.
Blake looked down at her two weapons sitting on the table. Praetor's knife and her standard handgun looked so mundane compared to her classmate's designs. She saw schematics for sniper-rifles that turned into pole-arms, an axe, rifle and grenade launcher combination and Yang's own bracer cannons.
"What's the matter kitty?" her friend asked, her hair tied into a ponytail so it wouldn't get caught in a machine.
"My weapons…" Blake responded blankly. "I don't know what to do about them."
"Why not keep them and make a new one?" Yang offered.
"That… feels wrong. Like I'm abandoning a part of myself." The feline girl lightly shook her head.
"Then how about turning them into a new weapon?"
It felt like a lightbulb went off in Blake's head. It was something she hadn't even considered. It was the best of both worlds. She kept the sentimental value and would still create a new weapon. "…Yang?"
"Yeah, kitty?"
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Blake turned her attention to the blade at the foot of her bed. Despite its alterations, it still felt like the same knife that Praetor gave to her. She had the blade lengthened, created a new scabbard that could serve as a separate blade and her pistol was now incorporated into the hand-guard of the blade.
In retrospect, her fights with the weapon could have been handled a little better. In her training with Praetor, he encouraged her to use every opportunity and advantage she had. If that meant throwing dirt into their faces, then so be it. Making her enemy see red with rage was a popular one, as long as they didn't hit her. Attacking their legs and tripping them worked even better, an enemy who couldn't fight tended to be easy pickings.
The design felt oddly familiar to her. Perhaps it was simply a case of seeing another with a similar weapon. Though it felt like it fit her perfectly, in both her mindset and her hands. It was incredibly practical, compared some of the other student's weapons. The blade would hold its edge against severe use, the gun was small and powerful enough to stagger her opponents and the scabbard allowed her to slash without drawing the main blade and gave her a secondary blade to wield offhand.
Was it destiny that she was to have the blade she designed, or just coincidence? Did it feel like this for anyone else, or did they just see their weapon as a tool?
Blake shook the thoughts from her head. It wouldn't help anything if she began to question herself now. After all, it was only a few more months until she and her friends went to Vale to attend Beacon. She reached for a book on her nightstand and flipped to the page with a mark in it.
At least Praetor wouldn't have to pay for rent for the house anymore…
The next day, Praetor was on an airbus heading into Vale. Blake had bid him good luck that morning and actually tried her hand at cooking breakfast. The gesture was nice, but the result was… less than appetising. He still ate it with gusto, he couldn't find it in himself to ruin her hard work. Especially when she was wearing her cat apron and smiling proudly at him.
Though it baffled him how she managed to screw up shake mix pancakes, she somehow kept the inside uncooked while burning the outside. Her cooking habits was quite the phenomenon to him. Anything that involved fish or chicken she could make perfectly, but nearly any other dish had the potential to end up burnt, frozen or some a combination of both.
The titan sighed forlornly as he watched clouds pass by his window. He wondered what became of his comrades back on Earth. Was there even an Earth left? He had left when the Darkness was making a resurgence. He could still imagine Cayde, Ikora and Zavala bickering over hypothetical situations. Lord Shaxx probably still hadn't moved from his position in the hallways, mystifying and captivating new Guardians with his imposing visage.
His thoughts turned to those that existed before the City existed. If he included himself, only a handful remained. Hell, he was probably the only one of them who recalled his name. He remembered that one of the earliest warlocks spent every moment of their time cooped up in the archives, sifting through engrams for anything that could give the Guardians an advantage. A fellow Titan constantly reinforced the Wall, only stopping to ponder his existence and what may come when night fell. And all but one of the Hunters left in pursuit of greater challenges.
"Is something the matter?" A sultry voice asked him. A simple turn of his head revealed a young woman with a waterfall of dark hair that fell to the nape of her neck and partially obscured her face. She travelled light, wearing only a deep red dress so short it was bound to attract wrong company. It was held aloft by straps that wrapped around her neck and tied into a bow. The sleeves were entirely separated from the dress itself, but drew attention due to the interesting designs woven into them. He could see a small glimmer of metal and a hint of fletching poking out from the travel pack she placed on the seat next to hers
"Just remembering better times." He turned his attention back to the view outside, seemingly unimpressed by the young woman.
Cinder couldn't believe her luck, she was just giving up on her search for this Praetor when he practically falls right into her lap. While she was a little annoyed that her seductive voice and jaw-dropping looks failed to capture his attention, all that it meant was that he wasn't a brute ruled by his dick, unlike some men she had the displeasure to meet.
Sadly she only knew the barest of information about this man, so she would have to do some subtle probing.
"I know what you mean…" She decided to try the 'Sympathetic Stranger' card. "When the future seems bleak, it's easier to get lost in memories." She heard Praetor give a humourless chuckle.
"It is indeed easier, to face happy memories than an uncertain future." She could see his content smile in the window's reflection. "But, I'd rather face an uncertain future, than a future without deviation or cause."
"They do say that 'variety is the spice of life'." Praetor hummed in agreement, ending the topic altogether.
Perhaps he had seen through her falsely sympathetic façade or he was just bored of her. Time to go for broke. "Say, I've got a… Business venture that I'm currently undertaking." Cinder began, seeing if she got his attention. If the slight perk of his ears counted, he was listening. "I may require the services of a strong Huntsman, such as yourself, in the near future."
"Oh, and how would you know that I am a strong Huntsman?" He asked, his attention now firmly on her.
Hook, line and sinker.
"One does tend to hear things when travelling through Patch." Cinder pretended to inspect her nails. "A large, armed and armoured man, walking in and out of such a peaceful town like Patch? It could only mean one thing."
"Fine, I'm a Huntsman." Praetor growled. "Happy?"
"No need to be so…" She breathed deeply, as if inhaling the short burst of anger. "…Aggressive." Cinder purred, licking her lips with a sensual moan as if she had just tasted a fine delicacy. "I simply ask that you contact me if you need work." Her hand slithered over to his gauntleted hand and gently pulled it open. With her other hand she brought out a small card, from a pouch on her hip and slid it into his now open palm.
Cinder leaned over to his shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes with her own glowing a bright amber. "I look forward to hearing from you." She whispered, her voice laced with barely restrained desire. With nothing left to say, she stood up and disappeared from his sight.
Praetor's gaze lingered on the woman as she disappeared into a different cabin before he turned back to inspect the card in his hands. The card itself was a deep red, the same shade as the woman's dress, he noted. The reverse side of the card was blank except for a golden vine border. Printed on it was single, golden word in immaculate font followed by a series of numbers.
"Fall." Praetor murmured, pondering the intentions of the woman. It could be just about anything from a genuine business practice to organised crime.
Whatever it was she wanted, it was genuine. There was no lie in her voice when she voiced her proposal. However, the Titan wouldn't be foolish enough to immediately take the offer.
Praetor rubbed his brow as he walked through Vale, idly heading in a random direction. His mind occupied by the woman from the airship. On one hand he could stay the course and continue earning a dishonest living. Or he could contact 'Miss Fall' and enquire to her proposal.
This decision was better left to an outside force. He reached into a pocket and retrieved a keepsake from his time as a Guardian. It was a simple gold coin, one side had a depiction of the Tower, the other the Traveler and the City. He kept it around for these exact situations.
"Tower, I contact one of the teams." He muttered, turning the coin around in his fingers. "City, I contact Miss Fall."
With a sharp flick of his thumb, the coin flew into the air…
Sat in her favourite seat in her less-than-ideal temporary hideout, Cinder pondered on what move she should next make. On a table to her side sat her open Scroll. Ultimately, she would have the city around her in ruins, and from it she would rise, leading its people and creating a new kingdom. One where she was ruler, where the only one who had power was her.
To do this, she would need associates. Individuals with exceptional skill, enough to rival her own. She had a small list already, one of them she had already met, but had yet to answer. The others would require patience and her own sort of work to find. Their own motivations mattered little to her, though if they strayed from their loyalties, she would happily put them in their place.
Tomorrow, she would begin looking for her next would-be associate. She would start in the seedier parts of town, her target should have a reputation among them.
She slowly rose from her seat, intent on going to bed, when her Scroll began to ring. She examined the unknown number with a raised eyebrow. Unknowns were not her favourite thing, unknowns meant danger and threat. This time however, she decided to forgo caution. Whomever was calling must know her in some capacity.
Click, "Hello?" She greeted with a drop of her usual sensuality.
"Miss Fall?" The Huntsman from the airbus. She realised, her smile growing larger. Still, it could be a fake.
"May I ask who I am speaking to?" She decided to play ignorant for now, after all she did come on a little strong before.
"Forgive me. My name is Praetor, we met on the airbus to Vale from Patch. You requested that I contact you should I be interested in work." He explained, his voice sounded a little defeated. Though she did have to admit, she liked his speech mannerisms.
"Ah, yes the Huntsman." Cinder faked a sudden recollection, complete with an audible clicking of her fingers. "How did your search go?"
"Let us forego the pleasantries." A hint of his temper showed.
"Very well, Praetor." Cinder sat back down, reclaiming the feeling of soft leather. "As I said before, I am interested in your services. Specifically, your ability in the heat of battle."
"What do you wish to know?"
"I've heard rumours that you single-handedly slaughtered a horde of Grimm, and another that said that you fought two elite Huntsman to a standstill." Cinder leaned back, her imagination running wild from what she heard of this man. "Are these rumours true, or false?"
"Even the most outlandish of rumours, have roots in reality."
"Answer the question." She demanded firmly, making sure her tone left no room for argument.
"They are true."
"That is good to hear." Now that the man has confirmed these stories himself, it would be beneficial to close the deal. "If you are able, meet me tomorrow afternoon in the Vale Dockyard District. We can discuss payment for your services then."
"Very well, Miss Fall."
Click.
"One by one, the pieces assemble on the board."
The following day, Praetor found himself walking into the dockyard district of Vale. Along the streets were various shops selling anything from Dust to jewels to magazines. As he passed one shop he noticed that it was closed due to a police investigation.
As he turned down an alleyway, he got halfway through when something tingled in the back of his head. Without thinking, he abruptly turned around and grabbed something he couldn't quite see. The moment his hand closed around it, the illusion shattered and he was left holding aloft a young dark-skinned girl by her neck.
The girl's arms flailed around as she furiously tried to find purchase on his armoured forearm. As her cheeks were beginning to turn blue, he realised she was running out of air. Her legs quickly joined her arms as they tried to kick him, all the while she struggled to breathe.
"Impressive, Praetor." A familiar, sultry voice remarked behind him. "Now release her."
He did so, not willing to argue with Miss Fall, especially when she was holding the ticket to Blake's future. "Who is she?" The Titan asked, gesturing to the mint-haired girl who was gasping for breath.
"An associate of mine." Cinder sighed. Praetor took note of Miss Fall's weaponry strapped to the small of her back, a pair of blades and a quiver of arrows. "You could say that she and I struck an accord. But enough about her. Are you here to accept my proposal?"
"If the terms are acceptable. I have yet to hear the details of this proposal, however."
"Of course. This is an undertaking that may take years to come to fruition. It does involve a certain level of discretion, so you sadly won't be privy to the entire plan." Cinder stalked towards Praetor, her eyes faintly glowing. "But if you have faith, I will reward you handsomely."
"Seventy-five thousand, monthly." Praetor crossed his arms. "With at least three days off each month."
"Done." Cinder held out her hand, offering it to Praetor. The old Titan looked at the hand, it was almost too small, too smooth. Yet the woman it was attached to was incredibly confident, and it showed. Her posture, her speech, it all spoke of someone who could and would do anything.
This felt like a deal with a devil, but if it meant he could care for Blake, he would gladly do it.
He extended his own hand and grasped it firmly.
XXXXX
AN: Edited version posted 4/July/16