Six entered the facility with a sour expression. His little talk with Summer had proven that she wasn't to be trusted anymore, and that he didn't even want to come across her again. Her naivety was astronomical and the fact that she knew about Raven's deeds from the beginning further placed his distrust in her. The Monitor just switched to her original chassis and floated next to him as he maintained his armor. She saw his expression and chose not to comment, merely leaving him to his devices.
His next objective was to head into the city and eradicate the White Fang, hopefully finding Adam and extracting whatever information he could out of the terrorist. As he tended to his cloak, he stopped when he saw a familiar patch of cloth. His thoughts drifted back to the family and he let his memories run a bit. Pretty soon, they drifted to Noble and he stopped altogether. He never really got a chance to mourn them in the past, and took the time to do so now.
It was odd sometimes, that he was the only UNSC personal on this world. Of the hundreds of worlds the UNSC colonized, he was the only one here. It would be different if there was someone else here to share this feeling, but there wasn't. Even Jun's remarks would be a welcome sight at this point in time. Although he was distant and didn't show his emotions very much, some noted he had a strange way of showing compassion. Whenever there was danger towards civilians, he was the first to act, quickly eliminating the threat before any damage or further damage could be done.
His particular disdain towards Insurrectionists that targeted innocents made his blood boil, but he used that to sharpen himself into an unflinching blade. His stalking and eliminations of countless Insurrectionists made him stand out; and before he knew it, he had achieved hyper-lethal over the years. Around Noble though, he opened up a bit. Trusting them with his life and they felt the same. It was nice to be honest, to have someone other than himself for once. They respected his space and let him be him overall.
It's why each death broke a little piece of his humanity. After seeing Emile's death, he shut himself off from everything. Witnessing so many deaths both on civilians, fellow UNSC personal, and Noble... it made him numb all over again. By the time he saw Keyes leave with the package, he didn't feel anything. It was his time and he knew it.
When he arrived on Remnant, he was back to his old self. Every Grimm, bandit, cutthroat, rouge Huntsman or Huntress, and White Fang he eliminated... it made the frontier a slightly safer place. The people of the settlements gave their loyalty and compassion to him despite him not wanting it. What he wanted was for them to survive and thrive off of what they had. He'd do the dirty work, just as he was made to do.
Just before he could finish his thoughts, the Monitor floated into the room.
"Reclaimer, I must apologize for my faith placed in Mrs. Rose." She said.
"It's fine. She just proved that she wasn't to be trusted from the beginning. I have no intentions of associating with someone who ignored the fact that countless civilians could have been saved had she done something." He said. If she wasn't constantly listening or paying attention, she wouldn't have picked up the miniscule amount of disgust in his voice.
"She may still be of some use though." She said.
"If she is then I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He said. It went quiet for a while and he just finished tending to his armor, thinking about it for the next few minutes.
"That reminds me, of something." She chirped.
"..." He just looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"A sort of cloaking mechanism if you would." She informed.
"Tell me more about it." He said.
"I've noticed that your specialty is striking the enemy when they least expect it. I intend to assist you with that. It is similar to that device which locks your armor, only that it requires much less power from your suit." She said.
"How long until it's ready?" He asked.
"A couple of days at most. I am still working out the kinks and maintaining the facilities." She said.
"That's fine." He said. A metallic hum escaped her lips and she merely assisted him with his armor and weapons. It was rather pleasant to have her assisting him, explaining that whenever all the facilities were up and running, she would imprison Salem. Collecting whatever knowledge she could out of the witch before finding a way to end her life, regardless of how many years it took.
He nodded as the two of them began to discuss some things. It wasn't anything special, more along the lines of his current set of objectives and how she could assist him. It was a partnership after all. She began to educate him on Forerunner history, which she was rather eager to tell about. He could report this to the UNSC when they finally arrived, but he was still interested.
The two of them just traveled through the halls and they eventually made it back to the main facility. He went up to the map and expanded it, seeing every little detail it showed. There was still a large portion, over half of it, still blank but that could be rectified. He zoomed in on the settlement and let his eyes hover over it for a few minutes. A sigh escaped his lips as walked away from the map and towards the armory. It took several minutes, but he eventually made it there and placed the Boltshot on the table.
The sidearm was nice, conveniently so, but he needed something else. He saw a rather large looking weapon and picked it up. Each piece started to snap into place like a jigsaw puzzle and he rotated it with interest. He turned to her and saw her looking at it.
"This is the Z-130 Directed Energy Automatic Weapon, more commonly known as the Suppressor. Although..." She floated closer to him.
"What?" He asked.
"This seems to be a different variation of it." She scanned it.
"How so?" He asked.
"It seems this one is able to fire metastable energy shards. Multiple shards will pierce the organism and cause an explosion, disintegrating them in the process." She tilted her chassis while explaining.
"I see." He nodded.
"Will you use it?" She asked.
"What kind of ammunition does it use?" He asked.
"Hard-light, same as the other Forerunner weapons. Homing-projectiles will ensure each shot reaches it's target." She informed.
"I take it you wish to gather more data on it?" He asked.
"Precisely." She bobbed up and down.
"..." He nodded and watched it come apart. It levitated in the air before going around his armor and snapping to certain parts. He rotated his body and felt the small amount of weight before adjusting to it a bit. The only problem was the color, it was too bright and he needed something that wouldn't give his position away in the dark. She carried it off with her and disappeared for several minutes. After reappearing, he noticed that it was a darker, metallic color with red streaks. He also noticed a wolf's insignia on the side of it and looked at her.
"Consider it a special gift from me to you. You have proven to be a reliable ally." She said.
"Thank you." He nodded.
"You are most welcome. Now, I must depart to work on the device." She said.
"..." He nodded farewell before heading to the personal quarters. Taking off his armor, he stretched a bit before setting a mental clock and climbing into the bed. Sleep came almost instantly and he felt the tension in his body start to leave him.
It's been a while since he's actually slept in a bed.
The Monitor attached herself to the strap on his bag, letting him pick it up and walking back to the teleportation grid. He had a few days of much needed rest and let his body and mind recuperate. The wave of vertigo engulfed him as he went from the main facility to the the one in Mistral. Bringing out the map, he started to head out and walk towards the city.
It's been years since he's been to Mistral city and he knew that it had gotten worse over the years. He needed to be on guard more than ever here; the city was a breeding ground for countless dangers. White Fang, Cutthroats, traffickers, smugglers, murderers, rogue Huntsmen and Huntresses, and etc. Surviving the city in Mistral meant you had to get your hands dirty sometimes, some more than others.
The journey there took a week at most and he waited until night to sneak inside. His new active camo worked wonders in concealing his presence, almost rendering him completely invisible. The only downside was movement and noise; if one were to listen and look closely enough, they could see the air move around and faintly hear his footsteps. While he could hold it up for two minutes, it needed a certain amount of time to recharge back up. Not to mention he had to swap between his armor lock and the active camo.
Almost immediately, he went to the poorer section of the city. The difference in class was more prominent here than in Vale and it didn't take him long to either hear or see something; considering how vibrant crime was here, he shouldn't be surprised. The days and nights slowly droned on and he was sitting in a dark corner of an underpass, listening closely to whatever caught his interest.
Night approached and his figure was shrouded by darkness. There was curses heard and he turned to see several homeless people crowding around a small pit, trying to light a fire. Each one of them shivered a bit and were progressively getting more angry as time passed, snapping at one another whenever they said something. He stood up and quietly walked over to them.
Nearly all of them jumped back in surprise at his sudden appearance and warily stared at him, while he just did the same. They watched him reach in his bag and fish through it, grabbing a small Dust crystal and dropping it in. Fire illuminated inside of the barrel and the homeless seemingly crowded around it. He just turned around and walked back to his spot before sitting down.
An hour went by and one of them walked up to him, sitting on the ground next to him and staring at him. He looked to his right and saw a teenager, maybe around fifteen staring at him. The kid signed something to him and he merely stared at him. Six sighed quietly and fished in his bag, bringing out a notebook and pen before giving it to the kid. He didn't understand sign language, but he supposed it would be a good skill to learn in the future.
"I want to thank you for starting the fire." He wrote.
"It's fine." Six responded, before bringing out a can of food and eating it quietly. He felt a tap on his shoulder and saw the kid hold up the notebook up to eye level.
"Do you have anymore? I usually don't beg, but I haven't eaten in a while." The kid wrote.
"Why?" Six asked as he brought out a can of stew and slid it on the ground after opening it.
"Some local gang has been coming around here. We don't do anything to them, but they take what we have. Regardless if it's important or not." The kid answered, erasing a few times when he messed up a word.
"...Where?" Six asked.
"There's a hideout twelve blocks east of here. A building with a crimson skull on the sides is what you're looking for." The kid wrote quickly. Six watched him ask for more food and gave him another can, watching as he rushed off to give it to one of the other homeless people. Some of the older homeless looked at him and he stood up, walking off into the night and away from everyone's eyesight.
The boy rubbed his hair and slightly revealed another set of ears, looking as everyone else did the same.
Two weeks had passed by. There were more spots to hide in the city than in Vale, regardless of how dangerous it was. A couple of spots he left bodies in his wake, whether they were unconscious or dead. Bodies started to stack up little by little and his presence was slowly starting to show. Gangs were more cautious of their deeds, but he always managed to root them out and take care of them.
The more he did, the more he saw how shady Mistral actually was. It was easy to tell how people were in his eyes. A lot of the homeless did their best to get by with what little they had left. There were individuals with wealth that plastered fake smiles on their faces, but held ulterior motives. He could see the darkness in their eyes as they gave fake promises while a knife was hidden behind their back.
It wasn't a secret that the White Fang held more contempt for him than the SDC at this point. He had been destroying their organization for years now, slowly eroding it into a shell of its former self. Not once did he care or had any form of pity for them. Each member he maimed, shot, stabbed, burned, and even mutilated didn't bother him. He was aware that they had families, as did the Insurrectionists, but he paid no mind to that. Just like how the White Fang didn't care about the victim's families.
He managed to catch wind of a meeting and followed the trail it left. It didn't matter how small the operation what they were doing, he'd be there to stop it. He leaned over the side of a building, observing the tradeoff between two human parties. His eyes narrowed as he looked closer, watching as the unknown party get in an SUV and depart while the thugs went in their complex.
The SUV was locked in his sights and he noticed a couple of individuals in suits. They stopped at a stop sign and he saw the one in the passenger seat counting a stack of lien, making him tilt his head. Once it drove down the street, he remembered the license plate and committed it to memory before making his way down the building. His shotgun was brought forth and he closed in on the complex, eyes flickering around.
He hid around a corner when a criminal went up to a door, quietly listening to the exchange between the two. Picking up the password, he waited for a while until he saw another criminal approaching. He activated the active camo and the light started to bend around him, masking his presence from the naked eye. Barely making a noise, he crept behind the faunus and stuck his knife in their back, covering their mouth before dragging them into the darkness.
A sickening squelch was heard as he twisted the knife and started to squeeze their jaw tightly. Their teeth started to mash together painfully and they tried to fight back, only for him to give one final squeeze and mutilating their lower jaw. He ripped out his knife and swiftly stuck it in the back of their neck, then began to cut viciously. Copious amounts of blood splattered against the ground and after thirty agonizing seconds, their body dropped onto the concrete.
He held their mutilated head in his hand and went up to the door, knocking on it just as the previous members had. The peephole slid open and he put the mutilated head up to it, being sure to avoid giving anything other than the eyes.
"Gods, you look like shit. State your business." The man on the other side said.
"Caninae." Six said. The peephole slid shut and the sound of locks being slid was heard before the metal door opened up. He brought out his knife and quickly dropped the mutilated head before striking forward. The blade slashed the throat of the guard and wet gurgling was heard before he gripped the man's collar, bringing him out of the complex and slammed his face into the brick wall.
Brain matter and skull fragments stuck to the wall as the corpse slid down, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Six observed the body for a few seconds before heading inside, locking the door, no one was allowed to escape. He waited a few moments until his camo recharged before quietly heading down the set of stairs, letting his eyes adjust to the lighting. The dimly lit area made him go on alert as something started to grow louder the closer he got. Voices were heard and he found a dark corner, avoiding their line of sight before continuing.
The deeper he got, the noise started to get louder and louder. Eventually, he came across a large stage area. His eyes narrowed when he saw some faunus walking on the stage, eyes cast down in despair. The dim, blue lights above made it hard to distinguish his figure at times and he saw wealthy looking individuals hold up signs with numbers on them. Commotion was picked up in the background and he silently went to the side, using his camo and the shadows to conceal his presence.
He looked around the lavish room before going to the back, opening the door and closing it before walking down a hallway. It was dark and he could faintly see traces of dried blood and bodily fluids on the ground. The further he went down the disgusting hall, the more wear and tear he saw, as well as rooms. Screams could be heard and his motion tracker picked up several red blips on it.
The first door on the right, he approached and knocked on it. The screams stopped momentarily and he activated the camo a few moments before the door opened. A portly man looked around and walked out in the hall, allowing Six to slip in the room. His pupils shrunk when he saw a half naked faunus with countless lacerations on her back. She was strung up by her hands and blood dripped onto the floor beneath her.
A cloth covered her face and he heard choked sobs come from her, whimpering when the door shut once more. The portly man let out a string of curses and went back to the room, admiring his work. He went to the metal tray and smiled cruelly when his eyes landed on a barbed wire whip. His fat fingers wrapped around the handle and he picked it up before rearing it back, ready to strike. He was stopped mid swing though by an invisible force.
Six watched the man's eyes trail up to his hand, before widening when the Spartan revealed himself. He kicked the side of the shorter man's knee and listened to his leg snap like a twig. A sickening crack was heard and the man barely got the chance to scream before Six wrapped the barbed wire around his neck. He began to saw back and forth viciously, letting the jagged metal mutilate the man's throat.
Blood started to stain the lower half of Six's cloak as he violently murdered the man. Cold fury was being directed into the form of killing and he watched the man's life slip away painfully. Not a single ounce of care was given. He let the body drop on the ground with a heavy thump, tilting his head as the barbed wire remained in the mutilated flesh of the vile man.
His attention was turned to the faunus woman and he went up to her, gently gripping her torso and cutting the rope suspending her. He caught her as she fell into his arms and carried her over to a dingy bed, carefully peeling the cloth off of her face. The look in her eyes was distant, and he could only shake his head when he stared at her.
"Just get it over with..." She whispered.
"..." He carefully sat her up and started to cut the rope from her wrists. Her blank eyes looked at him curiously as he set his bag down and fished through it. Eventually, he found some medical supplies and set them on the wooden stand next to them.
"You're not like the others." She commented distantly.
"No." He said, tending to her wounds.
"Are you an angel?" She asked.
"No." He denied, ushering her to turn around so he could tend to her other wounds. His medical supplies were plentiful at this point, since they were mostly for others. His armor soaked up the brunt of most attacks, but there was always some adversary that managed to actually harm him; he ignored it though. Her comment about him being an angel was false.
He was more of a demon than anything. The boogeyman to the White Fang and bandits, the machine that shook even Atlas to its core.
"Thank you..." She blinked.
"What kind of business is being conducted here?" He asked.
"Trafficking and torturing ring. Men and women are often sold to the highest bidder if they're good looking enough." She answered.
"How did you get here?" He asked.
"The White Fang. They gave me to a faunus upstairs after I was labeled a traitor." She said.
"You were part of the White Fang?" He asked.
"No, I refuse to be a part of an organization that is doing more damage than good. I was on my way home with my son. We... we were approached by some of them and refused their offer." She said.
"Your son, is he here?" He asked.
"He managed to get away. The chances of him finding somewhere to hide are high. He always had a knack for hiding near the homeless, despite him being mute." She said.
"Did he have a mop of black hair and a scar running down his forearm in the shape of a crescent?" He asked. She nodded quickly and he saw some of the light in her eyes return.
"How did you know?" She asked quickly.
"I have seen him in an underpass." He answered. She leaned forward and tears dripped onto the ground, making her clutch his forearm and thank him.
"How long have you been down here?" He asked.
"Seven months." She wiped her tears.
"I see..." He stood up and turned away.
"W-wait... wait, please don't leave me here!" She pleaded.
"I'm not leaving the complex. Lock the door when I leave, and I'll be back in a bit." He said, grabbing an expensive looking coat off the rack and covering her. On his way out, he made sure to stomp the man's skull in. Civilians were at risk and he needed to be careful this time around. He didn't intend on leaving the woman or anyone down in this hell.
The moment he closed the door, his face went blank as he went to the next room across the hall. He knocked on the door last time and the screaming inside stopped, making him activate the camo once more. When the door opened, he slammed his hands into the torturer's ears. A bloodcurdling scream was heard as he kicked the woman in the stomach and watched as she fell onto the ground. Blood shot from the woman's ears and he sighed quietly before going up to her and raising his foot, slamming it down and ending the noise.
He went to the victim and pulled the bag off his head, making a shushing gesture when the man tried to scoot back and went behind him. He brought out his knife and cut the ropes before pulling out some of his medical supplies. The talk with the man was brief, but Six told him to remain in the room until he was done. He did this a few more times, killing the torturers and telling the victims to wait until he was done.
By the time he walked out of the last room, the lower half of his cloak was drenched in blood. It would be easy to wash out though... Myne's mother had taught him various ways to get out stubborn stains.
He was quick to snuff those memories out; mundane things like that is what led him to mistakes.
The cries of agony went silent in the underground hallway of torture. His footsteps were quiet as he explored the downstairs and after twenty minutes, he found the breaker for the complex and brought out his armor lock. He activated it and after several seconds, the EMP went off and the building went dark. Quickly swapping the armor lock for the active camo, he faintly heard voices upstairs.
His shotgun was brought up and he waited until several guards came down to check, bringing out flashlights and noticing how quiet it was. He waited until the last one went further down the hall before snatching him by his neck. The gun clattered against the ground and the others noticed, turning around quickly to see their companion dead on the ground. They quickly crowded around him and started to look around, their breathing becoming ragged.
Six dashed by one of them and slashed his throat open before throwing his kukri into another one. The large blade entered the man's face and came out of the back of his head. They began to fire into both ends of the hall, their muzzle flashes illuminating it for brief seconds before they stopped. A few tense, silent seconds went by before Six's figure revealed itself, staring at them coldly.
He brought up his shotgun and fired. The loud bark of the weapon made them wince and the first one, making his head explode in a shower of gore. Another one panicked at the grisly sight before he was thrown back when Six shot again, punching a hole in his chest the size of a dinner plate. The second to last one rushed at him, but he moved to the side and caught his face in his hand. He squeezed tightly and listened to the man's face start to tear and bones break violently. A guttural scream escaped the man's lips before Six slammed his skull against the wall, splattering gore all over it.
The last one shook in his boots as Six started to converge on him and towered over him. His eyes shrunk in terror as Six stared him down before asking him who was in charge of this operation. The man fearfully told Six before his face and the back of his head were gripped tightly. He pleaded and begged for his life before going silent when Six twisted.
The sound of flesh tearing met his ears and blood leaked out as his head was turned counter clockwise. His body teetered back and forth before Six pushed it and watched it crumble to the ground with a dull thump.
Six grabbed his kukri and flicked the blood off of it before sheathing it and heading upstairs. The music was off and the patrons were huddled in a corner as he entered the room. The slaves on the stage stared at him, shrinking back on themselves when he approached them. Each one closed their eyes when he was in front of them, wincing when a heat was felt.
They hesitantly opened their eyes when they saw their shackles were burned off and on the ground, while a small construct attached itself to the back of his bag.
"Who is in charge here?" He asked, his eyes following their pointed fingers to a rather shady looking faunus. He shoved past the fearful buyers and gripped the man by his leg, dragging him off to another area. The man kicked and screamed, only shutting up when Six bent his leg at an awkward angle. He continued to drag the man before tying him to a rope and suspending him by his broken leg.
Screams were heard by the remaining people and nearly all of them cringed when the sound of flesh being torn was heard after half an hour. They glued themselves to the wall when Six returned with a mutilated head in his right hand. Both eyes ripped from their sockets and tongue dangling limply while the lower jaw was torn.
"..." He stared at them, as if daring one of them to make a move before going downstairs. Multiple people were seen following him and the ones on the stage stared at him.
"Aren't you going to do anything with them?" One of them pointed towards the nobles.
"The choice is up to you. If you decide to do something... make it quick." He replied, carrying one of the torture victims upstairs.
All was silent for a while as the wealthy blanked when they saw the faunus start to break bottles and pick up various weapons. Fearful whimpers were given as the faunus converged on them, murder clear in their eyes.
So sparked the night of a very violent series of purging of the both criminal empires and the White Fang.
Six carefully lowered the woman in front of the hospital, being sure that the others were nearby. The only warning he gave them was to not join the White Fang, lest they invoke his silent wrath. He disappeared shortly after and watched as the staff rushed out before going off into the night. He'd have to find the boy to tell him the news, then leave for another part of the city.
The days and nights slipped by slowly and the massacre made recent news. He watched from the building he was on about it, tilting his head the longer he watched. The police decided to try and follow the trail of blood he started to leave, but were coming up short. He didn't think he was above the law, because he wasn't, but he wasn't going to play by Remnant's rules either.
He managed to collect a credit card from one of the buyers and used it, pulling out a hefty sum of lien before throwing the card away. Lien wasn't a problem now, but his massacre would cause the other trafficking rings and White Fang operations to go quiet now. No matter... he would find them and rip them to shreds. They were harmful to innocents and he wouldn't just let it stand.
It took a few days to find the boy, but he told him about his mother's fate. He watched the boy's eyes light up and made sure to trail him at a distance. The day quickly went and night eventually came before he saw the boy enter the room his mother was at. He watched the tears in his eyes fall onto the ground as the two reunited; noticing how the boy signed quickly while the woman just hugged him.
All he did was watch from his perch on the opposite building. The two looked and noticed him standing on the edge of the building, smiling under his protective gaze and giving a grateful wave. The moon illuminated his figure while the wind blew his cloak as he turned away and disappeared into the night. His deed was done for those two, but that didn't mean he was done with the city.
The more he hunted criminals and White Fang, the more people started to change. The wealthy were calling for the government to do something while the poor walked the streets more often, feeling safer that someone was cleaning up the crime ridden city. He just listened carefully for whatever was caught by him and swiftly dealt with it, avoiding the authorities like the plague and only dealing with them when the situation called for it.
His attacks were sporadic and quick, never leaving survivors often. The ones that did manage to survive his attacks were often so traumatized that they were nothing short of babbling maniacs. He didn't care though. The only ones he considered on his list were traffickers, murderers, gangs, White Fang, and even a rogue Huntsman or Huntress. Petty crimes he didn't bother with too much. Thieves were often afraid to do anything seeing how he crippled several of them.
Before he knew it, a month and half passed by and he was the newest uproar within the city. He made news, earning a new moniker every time he committed a violent massacre within the criminal underworld. The lower class painted murals of him; seeing how a lot heard of his deeds in Vale. Most saw him as a protector and often hid him from the authorities when they came sniffing around.
Six stared at a mural of himself painted by one of the homeless. They made him to be more angelic than he actually was and he had the urge to smear it away. He figured this would happen given how he was literally scrubbing the city clean of its filth. It was his cloaked figure standing over countless bodies, he was carrying a scythe. It was wrapped around a White Fang's throat while they tried to crawl away.
Night fell and he stalked the rooftops, listening carefully for whatever caught his attention but all was quiet. That was to be expected though, nobody was willing to risk him catching their scent and hunting them down. His kills were always violent, to some people, but to him it was normal. The only person he really basked in violently killing was Tyrian, and he wished he took longer with the wasteful sack of flesh.
A sigh escaped his lips as he hunted the city for a few more hours before dawn eventually broke. He would lie low for a few days to a week, resting his mind and body before heading back out. Hopefully, the scum of Mistral would rear their heads out and take the bait. Once they did, he would tear their throats out.
They were not safe after dark, seeing how the Wolf ruled it.
Salem's finger scratched the surface of her table. An indentation was clear for how long she scratched it as she hatefully stared at her Grimm. Sending Tyrian after that family proved to be a mistake on her part. She did something Ozpin couldn't manage; take something dear from the Wolf, but in doing so... she lost one of her best pawns. Her faunus assassin torn apart, strung up like a piece of macabre art, and scattered across the forest.
Oh well, a clear miscalculation on her part. Nothing could be done for Tyrian now, and she wasn't going to spend all that time trying to put him back together. An alternative would just have to be set in motion. She was rather interesting in the walking legend though; someone who could take anything out, including her Wyvern, was bound to catch her interest. He was still a thorn in her side though.
She didn't even need to do anything recently seeing how Ozpin and Ironwood were doing her job for her. They were willing to sacrifice Remnant's people and let the world burn in order to capture or kill this man.
The man though... he was a problem deep down. His deeds in the frontier gave people hope and it was harder and harder for settlements to fall. Him clearing her older, more experienced Grimm made them grow fearless. Instead of fleeing from her subjects, they took them head on and either perished or succeeded in getting rid of her Grimm. It leaned more towards the latter. People in the outer wilds saw her Grimm as more of a nuisance than a threat in recent years.
Especially in Vale.
She was brought out of her thoughts when the Seer Grimm started to move. The smoke inside cleared and Hazel's face appeared on it, his usual stone cold face was a welcoming sight.
"What have you found?" She asked.
"He's in the city over here." He answered.
"Oh?" She said curiously.
"So far he has criminals running scared and the White Fang in the gutters. Recently, he's killed over two hundred individuals." He reported.
"Hmm." She hummed, letting her thoughts run. A thought crossed her mind and a smirk adorned her lips as she stared at the Grimm.
"What will you have me do?" He asked.
"Why don't you... stir the hornet's nest?" She suggested.
"How?" He asked.
"A bounty. He's already hated by the White Fang, and most likely the criminal empire. Why not convince both to converge on him?" She said.
"What do you suggest?" He asked.
"Capitalize on the White Fang's hatred of him. A bounty on his head for the countless vile scum there." She answered.
"It's going to take a lot for everyone to listen. How much are we talking?" He asked.
"Four million." She answered.
"I don't have that much lien." He said.
"Don't worry about it. Have Watts transfer the funds over and we go from there." She said.
"I'll see what I can do." He said and disappeared shortly after. A sigh escaped her lips and she leaned back before smiling. She'd have to get that coward Lionheart to scrounge up whatever rogue huntsmen he could. She truly wanted to see if the Wolf could survive this, chances were he wouldn't. If he miraculously did, then she'd have a whole new set of problems on her plate.
In the meanwhile, she had a new acquaintance to meet. A certain doctor who had a tendency to toy with her Grimm.
Little did she know... she would soon feel the fangs of the wolf against her flesh.
Hello you wonderful people. I'm back with a chapter within the same month surprisingly. I usually get into reviews but I feel like taking a break from them this chapter. It's nothing against you guys, because I enjoy reading them. Sometimes I just need a break. A couple of things I'd like to address first and foremost.
Thanks for reading and sticking with me, despite my flaws. Both in my writing and my flaws. Second thing, is I'm vastly aware I'm not the perfect author. Some people seem to think I am, but I'm not. The reason I downplay myself so much is because I'm actually scared that all this praise will go to my head and I'll get an inflated ego.
Third thing, to people who are calling my other stories shit. Fuck you and fuck off. I wrote those when I first started writing so get off my fucking back, no shit they're bad at the start. I'm trying to salvage whatever I can from them before I leave it or rewrite them. If you don't like it then go away and turn the blind eye. Holy fucking shit.
Yet another thing. Oh boy, wow you guys. I've never seen someone suck RWBY off more than this man right here; let's give him a big round of applause. To kenwayc996! Wooooooooooo! How's all that RWBY cum tasting on your lips? Hmm? I'm fucking sorry I don't wank it to fucking oblivion like you do. It's a fanfiction, get over yourself if you think I'm going to bend over and kneel because you're not satisfied with it. Get the fuck off your high horse and go the fuck away if you don't like it. Your shitty links don't work, so what if I give more of an edge for Halo than RWBY, grow the fuck up.
Your main point is that Aura is superior this and that, but fuck all that. It's not aura that you're looking at, it's fucking plot armor. Shitty, unexplained plot armor that gets retconned or has so many changes I don't bother looking at anymore because I don't know what the hell is going on anymore. TRaIned and AugMEnTed. This isn't even your first time saying that either. You've said it on another story and didn't even try to give constructive criticism, just ranting because you fucking can.
You want constructive criticism on your story? Why don't you actually put forth some goddamn effort like everyone else in this crossover, hmm? You ever think about that? The other authors actually put in some time and effort to make it interesting, even if it's a bit cliché. Hell, I'd actually read someone's story if they went the same route as the other tropes as long as they put forth... can you guess the word?
EFFORT. Either accept the story and try to let others enjoy it in peace, or fuck off back to whatever shitty place you originated from. You think you can do either of those two things, cum stain?
I wasn't kidding when I told you guys I'm not taking shit. No, this doesn't mean I'm going to be that much of a dick to you if you have either a different opinion than me. If you voice it that you weren't satisfied, then fine. Will I be agitated or annoyed for a certain amount of time? Sure, most definitely. I'm not even going to lie to you guys. The most I'll do is move on and continue. If you do however be like the pinworm infested shit stain above, then don't be surprised if I put some horrible shit.
Now that that whole cluster fuck of a mess is taken care of, onto the last thing.
So, someone purposed the idea of creating a Discord server and I'm here to say... I'm not opposed to it. Really, I'm not. I mean, the most I would do is chill in there with you guys and possibly get to know some of you guys better if that's alright. If I do create it, I won't always be on it. Reviews will still be answered on the chapters because I know some of you either don't want to get on the server or can't. Either way, if you guys do want it, I'll make it when I have time, just let me know what you guys want. I'll try to make it happen.
Anyways, you guys. Stay safe and thank you guys. See you later.