Just as a heads up, CRBN is primarily featured in the first half of this chapter. Yet, this chapter primarily follows our side hunters, Qrow and Winter. Enjoy!
Chapter Seventy Seven: Life's Many Doors
Dr Stein stares at the program panel on his desktop computer. His expression is only mildly wider...
Disconnected? The device disconnected from his server entirely. Had the program worked properly, an indicator would display so, just as any time the program executes a compromised agent. This is not the first time a disconnection has occurred, but it is the first to happen WITHIN the kingdom's heart cities.
The doctor deflates ever slightly. "Ah... 3,672 has recovered her semblance." He mutters, lips barely quivering with the movements. "Hmm..." He maintains a static look to the screen.
No matter. It changes little. Disconnection of Garland Riviera's implant in particular will result in many side effects. Worst case scenario, the man will still pass away and the plan moves ahead.
Best case scenario? Well, they must be scrambling to get that, aren't they?
. . .
The snap from light to darkness is coupled with a spark, a crackle sound! The area of the theater and streets outside saturates in a haze of golden yellow. The burst like static crackles out as all signals, not just aura, lose connection.
People within the festival all look at their devices, then to the air around them. All powered objects shut down while the semblance tinges the air...
Inside...
Makara's hands are clasped white knuckled! Teeth threatening to crack as her eyes brim with tears. All her power put out at once!
The pause in the room lasts for only a second to process her father still seized on the floor. George gasps horrified. "G-Gar..."
Action. Carmine, Roman, and Blair move to the man! Carmine shouts. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up, Makara!" He then looks to George. "The back implant. Where is it?"
The faunus stutters. "U-Upper neck. It's attached to the top two bones of the spine."
Blair announces. "Atlas and Axis Vertebrae. Turn him on his side. Can't afford to restrict breathing. Carmine, keep him still." She immediately begins to brush her fingers over the area of Garland's neck as Carmine helps roll him on his side.
A scar at the base of the head along the neck. Blair grimaces.
"Roman, knife. Sterilized please. Carmine, set up a light." She removes a white dust capsule from her breast pouch, tossing it to the boy who looks for a table.
Carmine's eyes flash gold, accessing his Overlap. Another image of Carmine moves away from them, grabbing the low table over. He activates a cast of the white dust, bringing a bright light into the room! Illumination comes as the Carmine image flickers away. He exhales, as if the air was knocked from him.
Roman, meanwhile, flicks out a knife. With a small fire dust capsule, he begins casting and activating his semblance, producing a small scorch on the blade. "Heat cleaning is all we got here. No bacteria at least."
"Cool it before I use it." Blair states. She removes Fluorescent Finish to once again lightly dig it into her. This time, her forearm, away from her hands. Allowing the blade to drink her blood as quick as possible. She pulls away and heals the cut with her aura. The blade tinges crimson as it goes to Carmine. "Carmine, use my semblance to quell his mind. Roman, take over holding him in place when the knife is ready."
Roman stops the flame and holds the heated knife up for her. She accepts, removing an ice dust capsule as she casts to cool the blade. He grips the old man down as Carmine takes the sword. "I don't exactly know how to use your semblance."
"Assert your will unto him as you do over your weapons for your own semblance. From there, visualize Garland's aura like an expanding orb. Wrap yourself around it and constrict. Keep it contained. By force if necessary."
George glances at the lightning dust vial still by the blonde. "Weren't you going to..?"
Blair inspects the knife in hand as she speaks back. "Outright frying it is a last ditch effort." She finishes cooling the metal with the ice dust, recapping it and preparing. Carmine activates her weapon, casting over the man with a tense concentration. Roman braces the man between them. "Roman, cauterize the wounds closed after I finish."
"Got it, Barbie."
Knife is up at the ready. "Making incision."
. . .
In his office, Stein leans away, head cocking with a chin stroke for good measure. What to do with this? How shall he go about it? His off hand is tapping away, searching events in the area. The Riviera-Revival Foundation charity event... Interesting.
He produces his scroll, opening an app with commands. The command reads, 'Number select'. He opens it and selects 'Randomized'. He then uses a VPN server and sets the coordinates for the service. He pings a spot on a map display on the streets within Mantle.
There... Now, his free hand comes to his throat.
"Doe... doe.." His bored, unenthused voice sounds. "Doe, ray~." His voice shifts.
His mechanical gaze overlays with an internal interpretation of data... Options display in his vision. Voice modulation!
His voice gains a slight off baritone, light in tone, voice sounding lifted even as the new default tone isn't far off from his own speaking voice. "Doe, Ray, Me, Fa, So, Lah, Tee, Doe!" The now nasal voice low voice sounds akin to that of a surf side pot head. "Oh, ah, Ah, AH, Ah, ah." He swallows as he types in the number.
A voice scratches in from the answering line... The police. And if the threat calls for it, the military.
Stein's face is like stone, just as bored with no expression.
His voice? Frantic. Loud. "Yah, man! There was a burst and power out here at the festival! Like, everyone's confused. We think we heard some gun shots, man!" Some scratchy response comes back. "Nah, man! I had to run out like crazy for reception. Some people were entering the theater when the show was over, and boom. Power and phone signals out. They were armed and some screaming- I-I don't know. I think they were tryna kill the host!"
More scratchy replies, and Stein makes some exhales and gulps despite his stone cold stare. "Yeah, yeah. Me. Daeran Myers." He stares at his computer screen and rewinds the footage fed from Garland's eye camera. Just to a view of the present CRBN members. "Yeah. Four of them. Three of em were armed to the teeth... Okay... Well, the first one-" As he begins to describe the CRBN members to the police.
Meanwhile, a message window opens on the desk top screen, so Stein finds one subject...
A subject with Spyyra's face.
He sends the next message.
'I was correct. CRBN is in Atlas and Mantle. Are you with Mary?' Soon after, Stein adds to the message. 'Between CRBN and the cult, we may need to shift resources. Let Zandril know.'
All he gets back from Spyyra is a single, open mouth smile face symbol... Stein's face shifts only in his eye twitching. The fool.
. . .
Within the city of Atlas...
Winter and Whis march along, Whis leading her. He brings her to a district of multiple more... vulgar vices. Bars, clubs, theaters, and bookstores galore... Not the regular theaters and bookstores. Just a sick pit of debauchery and sin concentrated within the most prolific city in the world special for the elites who have the money to be as disgusting as possible.
Along the way, she did agree that the Ripper, if currently in the city, would have some rumors to start on. As for CRBN, they likely would not be in such a sector, having children in their team. She can give them that much, at least.
Ahead, the door to a bar bursts open as loud, obnoxious laughs ring from inside. She sees a red cape first as Qrow back steps out of the establishment, jovially grinning as he pockets a newly filled flask. He gives a wave to the inside of the bar. "Later, Dominic!" He grins and turns to see the two Agents. His smile drops to a light smirk as he gives a mock two finger salute wave. "Yo."
Winter's storming gave gives the welcome of a ferocious blizzard. The man is drinking less than a day into agreeing to work alongside the other two on an important assignment! Before she can snap at the man, Whis moves up with a grin.
"My, are we that late? I apologize for hold'n ya up!" Whis is warm in his approach.
"We are exactly five minutes early. Do not dare apologize." Winter sourly bites, getting a sweat drop from her fellow agent.
Qrow huffs a chuckle. "Yeah, well. I was already in the area. Needed some refills." His red eyes meet her ice blue. He holds up one of his flasks. "You got an actual stomach, or you only a generic wine girl? I'm willing to share."
You fuck yourself. That's what she would say if she were a lesser being. Winter bristles and sucks in a breath to re-calibrate. "I will pass." She forces out.
Whis takes charge. "What info you got so far?"
"Well, all heads are accounted for in the main city." Qrow starts. He grimaces. "All the regulars for the businesses here have been in and out per normal. No new or suspicious faces either. Least those that stood out here."
"Given the Ripper's flavor of victim, would you figure any of the clubs or such?" Whis asks softly before shaking his head. "Nah, women aren't the usual clientele. Not enough to target them. The Ripper could just be lingering in Mantle."
"Last record showed a purchase at the bars here." Qrow mutters. "Just cause they didn't stand out or off someone that night doesn't mean they aren't here. Just need to lure them out."
"What could they even get out of Atlas? There's not enough of a criminal element for them to forage for allies here right now." Whis strokes his chin. "If they're looking for a weakness, then why send someone who uncontrollably kills?"
Winter speaks up then. "Could they be here to enact a specific murder? Take out a single target, or group of targets? They could even just be here for intimidation with such a reputation."
The three share a glance... Qrow glances to Winter. "They already attacked one maiden..."
The Schnee's eyes snap wide at that. She'd yet to hear such information! She sends an alert glance to Whis, seeing a mirrored expression. The two agents share a quick look before Whis whistles. "Well... they can't possibly be going for Fria with one operative in the city. I don't care how skilled they are. Not even you, or frankly Winter or I, could pull off something like that, and WE have SOME clearance."
"Then that leaves the Schnees, high paying politicians, Ironwood, maybe some other top brass, and maybe some criminal leader or figurehead." Qrow narrows. "Outside of one of them disappearing, we can't exactly know which is being gunned for. Telling them all to be on the lookout wouldn't do much better, either."
"We can eliminate one possibility." Winter asserts. At both men's glance, she crosses her arms. "If the Ripper is here to attack high value targets, we can mark off Schnee if they attack me."
Whis immediately drops his jaw. "Listen, Dar-" Winter narrows her gaze. "Agent..." He corrects. The man resets, hands up. "I'm not keen on using our own as bait."
"Why not? She might bite the Ripper's head off before we need to step in." Qrow chimes in plainly, both Atlas Agents pursing their lips at him. He continues. "Better to seize the moment than work from behind on their movements."
Whis looks between them, sighing. He then smiles wide. "Well, looks like you two really can agree on something. Peas in a pod in no time."
She refuses to dignify the statement. "I'll prepare and stake out some of the bars tonight."
Qrow pats his pocket before pulling out his scroll. "Think I got a good read on likely locations. We'll stand by as backup." He looks to Whis, who looks bothered.
"I guess so. Here's hoping we don't have any other distractions." People along the streets begin to halt, taking note of some sort of commotion. The three take notice, following the trail of attention. "What in tarnation?"
In the air space of the City of Atlas are various sharp looking, rectangular devices floating about. The organized devices begin to brighten and display a projection. The projection lights up as a hard light dust screen displayed proudly to the streets of Atlas... A news broadcast.
"Breaking news?" Qrow mutters with a raised brow.
"Never good." Both Winter and Whis mutter, deadly serious.
The display shows a live feed of the streets of Mantle...
"Breaking broadcast. The Riviera-Revival Festival in Mantle was subject to a murder plot and terrorist attack. Details are still coming in, but a group of armed individuals entered the area and set off some sort of EMP. Information gathered was down for approximately twenty minutes. Communications returned with the arrival of the military, who found millionaire Garland Riviera left in critical condition by the assailants!"
Qrow's gaze narrows as both Atlas Agents perk. Winter peers at the huntsman. "Ripper target?" At Qrow's furrowed brow, she speculates. "It doesn't fit. Mr Riviera is a faunus activist. Nothing fits for cult activity as you've represented them. Is it AZRL?"
Whis snorts. "AZRL doesn't take to public terrorism."
"Sanctuary disagrees." Qrow grumbles. "We also know AZRL sells to the White Fang. Does the Fang have something against the guy?"
Winter wrinkles her nose. "Let's let it finish."
"The total number of assailants is unknown, but officers have released the following descriptions and sketches offered..."
Five sketch photos display on the screen as Qrow's sucks in a breath... The drawings are crude, not exact, but it's clearly Team CRBN. A teen boy with a two tone hair, a fairly accurate depiction of Roman Torchwick, a blonde with a hip sheathed sword, a girl with two hair colors split in her hair, and the last a woman with a complex transform rifle wearing heavy clothing.
Qrow's shock morphs instantly to a sharp scrutiny... He instantly hones in on the problematic detail.
Winter's eyes widen. "Is that... Team CRBN?"
"Hmm." Qrow turns away from the news and begins to walk away. Both Agents take notice and immediately follow.
"Well, that certainly stokes some flames in the city. If Team CRBN is in the city AND the cult of Salem? You don't think-"
"No." Qrow cuts off the speculation. "If Team CRBN is involved with anything, it's about AZRL."
"A dead tree that." Whis states. "We've yet to feel out anything with AZRL within either city." He eyes Qrow from behind. "It does mark the second known time CRBN and the cult are in the same location at the same time."
Qrow halts. He pins a stare on the man. "What do you mean, second?"
Whis raises a brow, tipping his cowboy hat. "Well, turns out we've reason to suspect CRBN being responsible for the SDC and medical break ins in New Malum couple months back. This is accounting for the fact that the false ID program that was made by Dr Watts."
Winter side eyes him. How is he aware of this? He'd always left it to speculation any other time it was mentioned. Now, he's certain?
"Alls I'm sayin' is that the possibility sounds awful plausible." Whis leaves it at that. "But we can check that information later. I know a place of rough people we can check before doing your all's plan tonight. Come on." He marches around Qrow, taking the lead by a good bit.
Eventually, Winter and Qrow follow, Winter making sure to position herself where she can observe Qrow's reaction to the accusation. He's still neutral, but his movement is ever slightly more alert.
She can tell. He's pissed. She speaks up. "It is frustrating when something you are invested in turns sour. You've worked with Team CRBN, have you not?" He doesn't respond, so she continues. "I hope that the information is false, though."
"It IS false." Qrow grumbles low, too soft for Whis to catch ahead of the two. Winter raises a brow at the conviction. "The sketches." Qrow starts. Winter perks. "It's physically impossible for witnesses on the scene to have seen one of them."
Winter barely keeps from flinching. She stares at the man, containing her shock. "What do you..?"
"If it's impossible for witnesses in Mantle to have described one of them, then who gave the description?" Winter tenses... Whis made an accusation of Team CRBN, which surprised her. Yet, Qrow is counter accusing? "All that broadcast proved is that Atlas information gathering is compromised to the best possible outcome for AZRL. Nothing more."
He speeds up his walk, pulling away from Winter. The woman blinks as she processes his counter claim. Her gaze darts between the men. One has stated evidence of conspiracy against uncontrolled allies and enemies. The other did the same calling her kingdom into question.
Her fierce glare finds the concrete as the three march in silence. It is becoming clear that these three are going to be on egg shells around one another...
. . .
A small black transport rests in the airfields of Atlas. Freshly landed by only a few minutes. A name plate on the back of the licensed transport reads 'EGGHEAD'. The personal transport of Garland Riviera...
Police swarm the area, blaring red and blue lights as officers call out. "This is the transport! Find the drivers!" The men swarm about until a commander keys his radio. "Unit 32 to command: Garland Riviera's personal transport has been located in the South air fields of the city. It got through the check. Suspects have left area on foot."
The police fan out, in search of the foursome...
. . .
Neo stares wide eyed at the wall as the sun starts to set. She stands in a stair well of an inn, her Vanille cotton candy visage in full display. She looks at her scroll, on edge for what feels like the ninth consecutive hour of the day.
Bzzt.
She glances at the incoming message. Sighing, she looks to a camera in the corner. A shatter image mirror shimmers in front of the lens, masking her presence by presenting an empty stair well to whosoever may watch the surveillance footage. The girl opens the door of the stair well quickly...
As Carmine, Blair, Roman, and Makara bound through the door! Blair's sleeves are stained red with blood! Neo eyes that, then notices Carmine keeping Makara upright!
The lavender haired woman is weak, exhausted and barely conscious against the boy. Carmine keeps her steady and looks to Neo. "Where's our room?"
Neo directs them to the halls, where the cameras are misdirected with her shatter illusion images. She leads the group into the last room closest to the exit, opening up for them all! Everyone files into the room, leaving no time to second guess.
Instantly, upon entering the room, Carmine eases Makara onto the bed, the woman gasping for air and clutching her chest.
Roman immediately locks everything on the door, Blair takes to the restroom to clean her hands.
Neo stares at them all, wide eyed. She signs slowly. "What... happened?"
Roman scoffs. "Well, we met her dad. Lovely guy. Welcomed everything with open arms. Then, oh! His spine attempted to explode." He flippantly rants.
Blair exits the bathroom, holding a small, pin ball sized metal chip in hand. She sighs. "We saved him." Neo perks up at that, looking wide eyed. "First we've successfully stopped, thanks to Makara."
Carmine gives a smile to Makara, who simply stares off. The woman is completely disconnected from the current situation, tugging at the group. The boy sighs. "TLDL: Atlas is gonna look for us. Stein knows we're here, and he's framed us for attempted murder. Her dad is in a hospital, and his lawyer is sending Blair paperwork that should help us navigate the SDC's internal files to find Stein's dirty laundry."
"If we get that far." Roman scoffs, pacing the room. "We wanted to get into Atlas so we could PLAN! Planning is kind of a very important stage here, but now the whole process is blown up."
"We can still get some intelligence. It isn't like we're under house arrest." Blair sighs, still cleaning off the device she has in hand.
That turns Roman flippant. "Of course not, because I'm good at my job and can likely move around here. Neo too, but you three are just beacons with neon 'Arrest me' signs over your heads."
Carmine pouts. "He says... forgetting he's the obnoxious ginger with a strikingly well known mug shot apparently." Roman sends a glower at the boy, so he raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, I know. Underworld criminal master blah, blah, blah."
Blair sighs. "Well... if we recall, we know that Watts plans on contacting us once his little... cult know we're in the city." Neo tenses at the mention. "We'll exhaust our options before we resort to them, but he did explain that his side would call us."
"You still have the last burner?" Roman asks quickly.
Blair holds up her own scroll. "I routed its number through my scrambler network. I can receive the call myself as normal."
Carmine notices Neo's tense posture. The boy nudges her. "You okay, Neo?"
"A last word of warning." Qrow's word hangs ominously to grab her attention. "I get the feeling you already know them. You all have made it this far, after all. So, it bears mentioning... Do. Not. Trust. The Cult of Salem."
"Whatever you think of AZRL... Whatever AZRL is capable of doing... Whatever AZRL MIGHT accomplish if they win... The cult is worse."
Neo bites her lip in thought before shrugging.
Carmine grimaces. "Whatever happens, I don't want us letting the Cult get more power than necessary. Blair saw what they could do literally from a first hand view."
"We also still do not know for sure than we're dealing with the same cult." Blair cuts in. "The... woman, I should say... from Setante's memories may not be who Watts was associated with." She then crosses her arms. "Though, I don't feel like the answer should change. If we work with them again, it would be best to go into it with the intention of double crossing them."
Roman smirks. "Oh, going with one of my plays." He looks to the boy. "Or, are you vetoing making new enemies?"
Carmine blinks in surprise before huffing a chuckle. He spares a look at Neo, the girl raising a brow to him. They're actually wanting his go ahead. "Well, if this cult is who we think they are, they're just gonna be the next monster we take down after AZRL." He cracks a grin. "Fuck 'em. We take advantage of them immediately."
He checks them each over. Neo's posture relaxes, a slight twinkle in the eye. Roman smirks devilishly, hungry to find an opportunity. Even Blair gives a slight smile of approval.
The shifting of fabric sounds as Makara sits up, struggling due to lack of energy. Her tired eyes hold a simmering heat... Even she feels retribution coming.
"Perfect." Carmine smiles bright. "CRBN screws everyone over! I love it!"
. . .
A bell chimes as the three hunters enter the front door of the establishment. Winter and Qrow pause at the entrance to soak in the atmosphere. The first thought to come is... sterile.
Whis calls lowly to them. "Before we go usin' ourselves as bait, I want to check some friends. Play cool."
Smooth gray surfaces with neon lighting for a extravagant night club bar. The lighting switches colors at timed intervals, blue to green lights under the bar with red to purple lights overhead. The area is absolutely flooded with people. Well off youths to distinguished business personalities populate the booths that line the walls. The seating is all warm heated leather, comfortable for all. Low techno beats sound out in a mellow atmosphere, likely to have a relaxing time before later festivities.
Qrow snorts. "My niece enjoys the idea of clubs. Though, this place wouldn't like her."
Winter scoffs. "Of course, your blood would engage in such activities as a minor." She briefly wonders on her own blood, a head of white hair coming to mind with a younger face. "Though, my sister would sooner baptize herself in foul substances before willfully entering one of these establishments."
The man raises a brow. "I can see that."
At that, Winter's brow furrows, turning. "How so?"
"Well, public perception of your family would say you thrive in social gatherings. But, your sister likely shares some of your traits, so I take it that social gatherings are a chore before a delight." His red eyes pin her. "Am I wrong?"
Her icy eyes twitch, aware that he'd managed to divine a detail of her sister from her. Before a biting comeback is fired, Whis calls out. "Gendry! How's business?"
Near some of the bartenders attending to patrons, a short man cracks around. His head whips so fast, it's a wonder he didn't break it. The man is maybe four and a half feet tall, possibly shorter. His clothes are pristine, black suit pants, a white button up, wearing a black tie and suspenders. His slightly tan and clean shaven face looks back with peering orange eyes, chocolate brown hair pulled in a ponytail.
The man immediately cringes. "O-Oh... it's you." He grumbles, moving away from the crowds to the cowboy. "Couldn't even forward a text or give a heads up? Just going to come on in during business hours?" The tiny man peers around Whis to see Qrow and Winter. "Oh no! You're not mixing me into Schnee crap!"
"She's here as an agent. Not a Schnee, partner." Whis counters, sharp.
"Don't you 'partner' me after her fa-" The guy stops short and shakes his head. "Forget it. Forget it! Just take your headaches elsewhere." He points for the exit.
Qrow speaks up. "We're not JUST here for business." He smirks and holds up a flask. The words hang in the air while Winter recoils in disgust. "Nice place."
Gendry glares the man down. "I know it's a nice place. It's mine." He reacts with a scoff and tone of arrogance. "Brewery in the back, winery up top! Gourmet chef service VIP lounges." He then wrinkles his nose. "The only one of you fit here is the Schnee, and she isn't welcome."
Winter's eye twitches, but she remains diplomatic. "I am certain that my actions and stances are not reflective of my, shall we say, paternal heritage."
A short pause hangs as the man evaluates her. He clicks his tongue and sighs with a head bob, mulling it over. "Alright. She's nice, puts down her pops, and is only mildly a stick in the mud. She can stay." Winter still gives a half lidded glare as the short man rounds on Whis. "Fine. What do you want?"
The cowboy remains all smiles. "May I have some words with your brother?"
With a click of his tongue, the short man sighs. "He's just going to be grumpy for the rest of... weeeell, he may just turn that on you and you alone... give me a few hours not having to worry about any new... Okay." He nods to himself. "Okay, yeah. Yeah! Okay!" He turns, waving the trio to follow him. "Come on, you lot."
The three follow the man through the establishment, making it through a full blown dance floor area with a large screen display above a small stage. It is not the peak hours, so there are still places to move, but one can imagine that not being the case for long.
Gendry leads them into a hallway, to a door with nine locks of varying kinds on it. He holds them at bay with a hand. "Turn away while I do this."
"Is that not considered excessive for a simple brewery." Winter inquires.
"Up up UP! No questions from big sister!" The short man dismisses her, waiting for all three to turn away. The loud clicking and clacking of locks begins to sound behind them.
Winter's face skews ever slightly until Qrow mutters. "He can't call you 'Big Brother' since you're a woman, but he's making an authoritarian joke."
Whis sighs. "If there's one prejudice the Nahyndra Brothers accept, it's prejudice against Schnees. If I warned you, I figured you wouldn't act genuine to them." He assures Winter, her side glares him.
"How do you figure that?!"
"You'd have bitten a remark that at first seems fine but becomes scolding the more you think about it." Whis gives her a dull look. "Gendry obsesses over 'ifs' and 'should haves'. The moment he susses out you insulting him, we'd be screwed."
Winter tenses. "How dare you insinuate that I am the liability here!" She whispers with a biting venom. "I am perfectly capable of faking politeness due to years of experience with people worse than he!"
"And yet, Qrow seems to easily break that, don't he?" Whis counters.
A pause in thoughts as Qrow smirks slightly. Winter's mind fractures before she washes a poker face towards the two men. "I do not see the situations as comparable."
A loud clank sounds as Gendry opens the metal door wide open. "Alright. In you go." The three hunters twist around, moving for the entrance- Gendry snaps his hands up. "Whoa, whoa! Wipe your feet, too!" The trio glance down, finding a door mat on the floor directly in the entryway. Another shared look before Whis smirks and does as instructed. Gendry scoffs and looks off as they enter. "Savages."
They enter...
Down and down the metal steps and softly lit trails comes the rumbling bubbles of a liquid boiling. Contraptions and industrial connections show, the flow of mixtures and ingredients flourishing in an chemist's paradise. A brewery with a splice of rather... eccentric tastes perhaps.
At the bottom, they arrive at a landing before a tall and ornate table of chemistry sets, tubes, mixtures in beakers, and large containers of additional product.
POP!
A startling crack sets Qrow and Winter on edge, but Whis is unaffected. He smirks and makes an impressed whistle. "That one sounded good! New toast?"
"We got visitors, Bart! Please behave." Gendry calls out
A snarling gruff voice howls as a short man stumbles out from behind the chemistry desk. "Oh, I know that voice. Ya don't gotta coddle me into it." The man has mutton chops, has a wider set of shoulders and is a few inches shorter than to other man. He glares at the cowboy. "This dirt lick'n bastard's got balls to come here after stifling us."
Whis grins. "Come on! Friends can forgive! I told you I needed a sacrificial lamb to bait a deal-"
The grumpier short man sways his way to the first and grumbles. "Be sure to tell him losing me a hundred thousand isn't a simply 'sacrificial lamb'. Also tell him to piss off."
The cowboy deflates slightly. "Or you could speak directly... Kind of rude of you."
Finally, the shorter man snaps back. "Oh, quit your belly aching." He then realizes he spoke directly to the visitor. "Shit, I didn't want to actually speak with him. Oh, sod it." He looks by Whis to the other two. He nearly swats his compatriot as he whips around. "Now, that better be the youngest old lady I've ever seen because I know damn well you didn't let a Schnee down here!"
Gendry stays out of reach from his filthier colleague. "Easy. She's the disowned one." That makes the erratic short man snap his look to Winter.
"That right?"
Winter remains rigid in her posture. "Yes... I am the disowned one."
A split second later, and Bart brightens like a one eighty flip. "Well good on ya. Pop a squat and make yerself at home." He then looks from the bewildered Winter to Qrow. "Well, well. You a drunk or a connoisseur?"
Qrow smirks and shrugs. "Depends if I have work to do."
"Might let you taste test then!" Bart shifts back with an approving look and waves off Gendry. "Well, hell. You're two for three then." He rounds on Whis again. "Say what the fuck ya want and get out."
Whis sighs. "There's a dangerous player in town. Likely uses excessive amounts of dust based on the level of people they've disappeared. I need to know of any new suspicious faces in your circles. I can almost guarantee you that they're someone dangerous to your brand. You should steer clear of em. Known for filleting good hunters."
"If they skewer good people then you're safe, you ingrate." Bart scoffs. "New faces come in and out all the time. Nothin' bout no killers has come out, though."
"How about Grimm trafficking?" Qrow chimes in. The short men each focus their attention on him. "This individual is part of a fanatical group that attempts to control or use Grimm. Even if it's not his goal, he or she might check for any sort of underground trade to get a feel for the Grimm of the area."
Winter's mind spins. Here they are, under a fine establishment up stairs, and there's talk of Grimm trade?! Qrow seems to be picking up Whis's types of connections well, but Winter wants nothing more than to interrogate immediately. What else is just below their noses?
She begins to pay closer attention to the brewer apparatus to the side, spotting small cylinders locked into the sides.
Bart mean scowls at Qrow. "I ain't never bothered with that kind of crazy! No one needs to go losin' fingers tryna wrangle some Beowolf just to bet on it vs some komodo dragon in glorified Grimm cock fighting!" He grumbles.
"You gotta know something." Whis presses.
"I know nothing for traitors! Got it?" Bart slaps Whis in the gut, knocking a slight huff of air from the agent. "What do ya take me for?"
"Is that Dust infusion?" Winter's voice breaks the tension, curious. The group turns to the rumbling machinery. The woman is leaned towards one of the larger industrial containers, evaluating the cylinders latched in. "It is..." She raises a brow. "Ice dust mixed into your drinks to keep them chilled?"
Both short men share looks, Bart frowning at Gendry as they make wide gestures to one another. Gendry sighs. "We would never. We know that practice is illegal."
An obvious lie. But deny, deny, deny. A typical tact. Still...
"You realize just how finely distilled the dust concentration needs to be to not adversely affect the average person, right?" She leans around to find various monitoring equipment of the container. "Hmm... Given the volume of the mixer..." She taps the cylinder with a passive gaze. "It is calibrated rather expertly." She looks to Bart. "Are you an alchemist?"
Bart huffs. "I deny any and all accusations unless under direction of a lawyer." Gendry eases.
"That was good, bro. Good." Gendry gives a thumbs up for the crass man, whispering.
"It's a shame that all tests of these sorts of experiments are illegal. I am aware that all the SDC's alchemical endeavors were halted years ago due to the exploits of criminal mixtures of that nature." Winter speaks, tone light. Not inherently negative.
Bart grimaces. "Meren Zann fucked it for the rest of us. One guy goes and does something stupid, and the rest of us lose out? Not fair at all."
"On that, we agree." Winter surprises them. "Fools stifling progress with inane degeneracy." Winter looks to Bart and stands tall. "Despite being disowned, I do have a relation of sorts to SDC supplies. Supplies that I don't necessarily require... If I were to invest them into some experiments of this sort... I could have a sway with some higher ups about amending exceptions to the legal uses, perhaps..."
Gendry and Bart share a look. The brothers turn around into a huddle. Mutterings between them. Gendry pokes a look out back at Winter, double takes, then back to muttering with his brother.
Qrow and Whis share a look. Whis leans to Winter. "You sure you know what you're doing?"
"Not entirely, but I have a counter demand to issue if they accept." Winter remarks.
"I approve. She's getting further than you." Qrow shrugs, giving her the go ahead.
Whis merely clicks his tongue, nodding. Even he agrees.
The short men round together, Gendry smiling. "We would love to be recipients of such an... investment. These are trying times, so anything to stop us from resorting to other means would make us so indebted."
Winter gives a polite smile and offers a hand. "Then perhaps a deal can be made?" The short men give a cocked look before Bart reaches up. Winter pulls back. "Also, an open door policy so that I may verify any other illicit activities end for you." She ends, narrowing her gaze on them in a glare.
Bart huffs a hefty laugh. "Oh please. I'll wipe my slate clean as a Schnee's backside to get a steady dust supply!" He snatches Winter's hand, giving a much mightier squeeze than she expected of his stature.
"A crude analogy." She comments.
He chuckles. "What? We all know the only crap comes from a Schnee is out their mouths." As Gendry face palms behind him, Bart continues. "But I'll list you as an exception."
The two separate. Winter crosses her arms. "So, that information?"
Gendry steps in and takes over. "Bout a week and a half ago, our suppliers all got up in a twist. Someone new was in town and buying up a lot of dust left and right. Some suppliers, like our main guy, said no. Didn't want nothing to do with them in case it was an Atlas sting, ya know?"
"Turns out we can rule that possibility a moot point." Bart cuts in. "Like you said. They have a hard on for the Grimm trade. 'pparently they've been hired to muscle a deal to get Grimm into a private arena for some Grimm on Grimm action."
Qrow cuts in. "And how do you know about that?"
"Cause we were invited to the show, you idgit!" Bart snarls back. "I put good money on..." He looks at Winter, who glares back. He reforms his words. "I used to put good money on the matches. But to hell with me going with some newbie risk about."
"They already know we aren't going, but still might suspect us if someone shows up in our place." Gendry mentions.
"No matter." Winter looks to Whis.
The cowboy nods. "We got some low levels under covers that can go public to take the hit for blame for times like this. I'll call the General to arrange something the streets will notice."
"And the three of us will crash this event and bring the Ripper in." Winter announces.
"Just one thing before we go off." Qrow interjects. He looks as the short men. "This new player... what do they look like?"
Gendry and Bart share a glance, grim tones taking to their thoughts. "Well..."
. . .
The scroll rings...
All five members of team CRBN tense and eye the device. Blair looks to the others for a go ahead, receiving a nod from Carmine. She accepts the device and answers the call.
Tense, Blair slowly speaks. "Hello. Who do you serve?"
A sultry voice comes, husky and low. "The queen, for she has pawns."
Blair grimaces. "... You are neither the doctor or fall... how should we address you?"
The voice drips with enthusiasm. A light trill of a giggle as the voice calls out. "Today you work with the Ripper, my carbon dated friends."
The blonde grimaces. "We've not agreed to any terms of cooperation. Do not presume our assistance."
"Oh, you are not assisting. It's the other way around. In fact, we are already on the move, so saying no now just makes you an easy patsy to call it a day." The delighted tone vexes the scientist. "And given the news, I assume you have very few options." The female voice dips in a low threat.
"We will see. State your proposal." Blair demands, matching tone.
. . .
A toned female form speaks on the scroll. The figure sits against a pillar in an underground location. Brown leather high heeled boots tap slowly. Dark black leggings rise to white and violet frills at the waist line. Her right side has a knee length half dress skirt of the alternating shades of frills. Her top is an alternating overlays of deep indigo leather with white and violet pattern designs with a fluffy white frills at the shoulders. Pearls hang from a necklace as the v neck line of the top.
Her skin is fair, long flowing deep indigo hair drapes beautifully, nearly pitch black. Deep purple lipstick and shading eye liner, the woman is obviously vain with her appearance. Dark leather engraved pair of bracers shield her arms with exposed pearl bracelets dangling at the wrists.
The woman's chocolate brown eyes twinkle in amusement. "I can give you a push in the right direction." Her off hand toys with her hair airily. "Your cooperation is a non factor regardless, as we are willing to take the brunt of the military's and its hunters' attention. So long as you are intelligent, you needn't worry about any huntresses or huntsmen showing up on your tail. Even if you say no, this still provides you an opportunity to deal AZRL a blow. Wouldn't you agree?"
Blair's voice chimes back. "Just tell us what you wish to and be quick before we lose our patience."
"Touchy, touchy... You sound fun to play with. How unfortunate that you're off limits for circumstance." The woman, Ripper, quips. "Further details will have to be discussed in person, but I am currently out of the city on business. Shame... But, I can direct you to my great burly and handsome comrade. I will send you the coordinates to meet him."
With a tug on her hair, her ear flicks and pokes out from her hair. A tufted ear pointed just a little too long... Situated where a human ear would be rather than a typical faunus's ear anatomy. A fennec fox faunus... Her ears fold back, camouflaging under her groomed hair.
"You will have seven hours to make it to the rendezvous while I do my job to keep people off your back." The woman toys with her hair and proceeds to explain the directions to the blonde...
. . .
In Mantle, the city far outskirts, disrepair is manifest to an extreme.
Potholes and splits in the road make traditional vehicles unable to proceed. This is far beyond the ghettos, the low income neighborhoods, or the the highly policed edges of the civilized population. The city's vast nature leaves many parts so far out from under the city of Atlas that the categories blend.
For lack of more noble terms, these streets are ruins. Remnants of the kingdom of Mantle beyond salvation since the war and Atlas's founding. Yet, even the husks of structures are used as shelter for few but skittish individuals who choose not to live within the city itself. Shockingly, few of those living outside the official city limits were faunus. These were descendants of disaffected members of the old regime.
These areas were dangerous for a number of reasons, not the least of which being Grimm attacks. The lack of governing enforcement mixed with scarce resources save for shelter lend to a two world picture. That the world's foremost tech giant is within an hour travel of a third world dystopia is jarring, but due to contention in sides.
Winter despised venturing through these sectors. Doing so with a full Atlas squad may yield some danger from the somewhat hostile criminals in the area, but doing so with only two companions raises some anxiety.
A white circular glyph pulsates into existence between the roof of one ruin to another. A soft hum of the power as the surface holds as Winter, Qrow, and Whis march over it to the next building top. Her fingers relax, letting the symbol laden surface dissipate.
Whis hangs up on his scroll, putting the device away. "Alright. The general has a squad unit ready to make arrests whenever we call in a signal."
Winter cuts a look over the rooftops, finding a trash can fire warming multiple individuals on the alleys below. Qrow speaks up, keeping eyes peeled. "Would have saved time to use an unmarked bulkhead."
"None will be available until next week at the earliest." Winter informs. At Qrow's odd look, she elaborates. "In light of AZRL, the cult, and others going into subversion, a great many more undercover missions have been required. Many such operatives need those unmarked vehicles themselves."
Winter creates another hard light glyph as a platform bridge to the next roof. Marching across, she refocuses, creating a black glyph at the edge of the platform. The black circle symbol begins to spin in place. Qrow looks at the angle to the taller building ahead. Nodding, he steps onto the glyph.
The black glyph flexes as he moves on it. Sinking down like a drawing slingshot, Qrow tenses as the glyph recoils up! The gravity glyph acts as a bounce to launch the man into the air! Perfectly calibrated, Qrow's ascent leaves him to gracefully and seamlessly step onto the taller building's ruined roof top.
He inspects the surroundings as within seconds, Whis rises up and lands from Winter's impromptu launch pad. Winter then ascends and lands in perfect grace. Qrow points south. "That our entrance?"
Both Atlas agents eye a distance from the ruined structure.
Almost a third of a mile off, a small gathering of movement can be seen. Lights can be seen as the darkened sky overhead paints the background. It could be mistaken as a small commune of the locals, but given the distance between this one and the next...
"Seems like our place." Whis smirks. "So, how we want to do this?" He looks to Qrow. "You got experience 'gainst the cult and AZRL. I'm expecting suggestions."
Qrow hums. "Well, first thing is to make sure this is the location. At least one of us will have to infiltrate using the pass given by those brothers."
"Eliminates me." Winter narrows her gaze, annoyed. "My status impairs most attempts at subversion."
"Smart, but sounds like you could try harder." Qrow smirks as he gives the light jab. Her scowl lets him know his hit landed. "I'll go. My semblance works out best when I'm on my own."
Whis clicks his tongue. "I can agree I guess. Confirm the presence of the Ripper, and we'll call reinforcements while clampin' down the exits. Then we proceed slow and thorough." He holds out the invitation given to them by Gendry. "Don't like you not having backup."
Qrow shrugs. "One person can be standoffish and play touch guy or friendly. Two people requires selling a dynamic undercover. It's better this way."
"Then at least accept some help in this way." Winter's fingers shift into a static gesture. Her sword hand draws her saber. "Do you have a bag on hand? Or pockets you won't mind being filled?"
Qrow raises a brow, briefly checking himself over. He gives a dour look. "I got pockets."
"Hmm..." Winter focuses as a new, brighter glyph spawns of her aura into place on the rooftop! From the spinning symbols, four forms crawl out, as if pulling themselves from tar...
Four small, white furred mouse Grimm. Their eyes glow blue as they chitter and sniff about on the ground. The Summoning glyph dissipates, the four mice scampering into a military line before Winter. Tiny squeaks cease as Winter eyes them critically.
The huntsman's eyes widen. "Neat trick. You going to talk through them?"
Winter twitches, but ignores it to explain. "My summons can be any of the Grimm I've slain personally. By spawning them, they take simplistic direction and orders. The complexity and ability vary based on two factors: How complex my orders are and how much free control I give them."
She kneels before the attentive mice crowded by one another. "My order is clear. You will conceal yourself in Qrow's clothes and remain hidden from others until the following conditions are met: Qrow dies, Qrow can provide a simple order for you, or Qrow finds am additional entrance into the hideout we are raiding."
"Upon any of these conditions being met, return to me. If your return is to report a new entryway, you will lead me to it. Otherwise, your order is complete." Winter finishes. With a snap, the four mice stand on their hind legs and give a uniform nod.
The white beasts skitter in a group at Qrow, the man's arms raising wide as he actually reacts to them. The mice leap and begin climbing up his pants and jacket! Two hide in his pants pockets, two in his jacket pockets near his flasks.
Qrow lightly squirms for a moment before giving Winter a grimace. "Okay. That I wasn't prepared for."
Winter huffs. "Now, if the area interferes with our scrolls, you may still send for help."
He pauses in thought. He then raises his hand, one finger up. "Hard barriers." Two fingers. "Gravity inversion." Three. "Summoning slain foes. What else can you do with that semblance of yours?"
"I will only inform you if it is relevant. I do not see you explaining your capabilities." Winter sheathes her saber and huffs. "But five fingers may not be enough."
Qrow snorts. He gives a lazy salute. "Fair enough, Ice Queen." He falls backwards from the rooftop in a dramatic display. The two Atlas agents remain alone, Whis smirking at Winter's stewing anger.
. . .
At the gathering of people, Qrow saunters through with a goal in mind. Look busy and look goal minded. No one will stop you unless they have reason to.
Ahead, there is an entrance to the underground, people cycling in and out. Many of those around are rough looking, though a good amount look upper middle class in Atlas terms. Qrow is able to see some of the nearby structures are used to obscure vehicles.
Qrow hums, moving into an alley quickly. Inside, he calls upon his power. His magic... his body morphs in a flash as the man in replaced with a large red eyed crow! The bird flaps into the sky, instantly aware of the small added weight of the four Grimm mice.
He flies around the area of the ruins and buildings. Perching near the vehicles, he finds stand up cameras situated at several key positions. Of course. He then sees at least three guards around the hiding area, as well as one civilian. He keeps them in sight until they enter a stair way that goes underground...
Qrow chirps in his bird form. So, that's one additional entrance already.
The man moves to a dark corner shifting back to his human form. Sighing, he adjusts and lets one Grimm mouse out of his pants pocket. He crouches and eyes the white furred little beast. "Return to Winter and Whis."
The little beast perks up, nodding greatly before scampering away.
He quickly morphs up to fly back around, returning to the populated areas to shift human once more. Now, he moves for the entrance. Soon enough, he finds the entrance the next level underground, finding several guards. Still, with as many people as there are, he finds that the security seems to be 'don't be Atlas'.
Testing that theory, Qrow approaches the guards. "One in."
The guard, a rather dingy looking scruff with dour eyes. He raises a brow at the man. "We don't get many Mistrali's here..." He squints. "We got a ban on Echani and Kan-na tribe members."
Qrow raises a brow. He removes his pass given by the brothers. "I have this-"
"Yeah, yeah. That's for the vendors inside. What tribe you from?" The guy waves off the pass.
Damn. This nobody seems to know something about the clans. Still, no point in lying if he's familiar. Qrow's voice dips annoyed. "Branwen."
The man flinches, fully tense, yet almost irritated. "Ugh... Whatever. So long as your raven queen chief ain't here, I won't bother."
Well that's curious...
Qrow smirks. "Whatever could be the issue? Maybe I can make amends?"
The guy shakes his head. "Don't play coy. Hospital expenses are hard on us, you know. Just get in there and give us business." The guy thumbs for Qrow to enter. He does so.
Interesting. So Raven's a gambler for these places these days? Must've demolished some fools who tried to swindle her. His mind drifts to thoughts of the black haired and red eyed huntress demolishing some would be conman who tried his luck.
No. Head in the game.
Qrow enters the underground, where power lines run long the ceilings, very clearly tied to some sort of low grade generator deeper in. The underground is well built, with different areas selectively made for different catering. It becomes easy to determine what this place is.
Underground gambling for everyone. Barter betting, home games, fighting pits, animal fighting... Grimm fighting.
Of course, bets are made on any of the sports spectacles. So, Qrow has to partake a touch in each of them to get a proper lay of the land.
In the next hour, Qrow finds the entrance for the vehicle parking from the inside. On top of that is one tertiary exit, presumably for those involved in everything here. Qrow finds spot and turns away. "Alright... go find Winter, and don't be seen." Another of the mice crawls out from his jacket this time to teeter around the corners to the exit.
He smirks. Place is mapped out. Now, to find the Ripper...
. . .
Another hour by.
Qrow took inventory of more activities... A full on brothel. Perhaps if he were drunk enough and not aware of impending death lurking in the area, he'd partake. He almost moves away when he remembers...
Right. The Ripper loves to kill women. Well now. Seems like he has reasons to enter.
He moves to said brothel, knowing that they appear to offer drinking services and double up as a strip club of sorts. All the staff working range from voluptuous women easily Qrow's age to some uncomfortably young girls looking dangerously close to Yang's age.
Sitting down and getting a feel for the soothing lighting and cushy seating, he orders a light drink. Soon enough, a scantily clad redhead with hazel eyes and curly hair brings him his beverage. "Here you go, Baby." She smiles sweetly and prepares to leave when Qrow catches sight of something... her back.
"Wait." He calls, earning her attention. He smiles friendly enough and sloshes his drink. "A drink deserves good company. Why don't you chat a bit?"
The lady perks, turning and giving a signal to the bar. Surely for others to cover her tables while she... works. She sits with Qrow. "Well, I hope to make good company then. What's a strong man like you doing here? You seem too rough to be stuffy, but too mannered to be like..." She cuts eyes as some in the area. "... other clientele."
Qrow plays a smirk. "Maybe I figured good deeds need rewarded. I get around for a lot of people's needs myself."
The woman relaxes into the seating with him. "Oh? A rugged hero? Do tell."
He places Lien coins on the by them with a smile. "My money is for your time, but stories are a bit of a two way streak. But, I'll happily start."
What follows is a playful exchange. Qrow re-contextualizing stories of a hunt for show, impressing the lady, followed by earning small tales of rougher or gallant clients the woman has entertained. Of course, clients she swears have nothing compared to the man before her. Sure. Like he'll actually believe those words, but alas.
"It's an interesting tattoo you have. What do the numbers mean?" Qrow adjusts to see the tattoo on the woman's mid back. Red bold ink lettering.
The woman smiles, turning for the numbers, showing '10760'. "Oh! People always assume the worst with the placement. It's more wholesome, Hun. It's the date of my mother's birthday. It's not supposed to be a tramp stamp, but I get the confusion." She laughs lightly at the subject.
Qrow maintains a fake smirk, his hardened eyes looking her over. "Well, around here those things would fit in." He eyes her wrists... no fresh marks, but if he looks hard enough, he finds marked scars. The kind of mark left by severe rope burn, then left to heal for ages on end. Scars show through make up at several spots on her form. None life threatening from their origin, but enough to figure the cause: Abuse.
"Aw, honey. You don't have to be shy." The woman winks his way. "Penny for your thoughts?"
He chuckles. "Oh, just wondering... What's the most... rough service you could offer me?"
The woman gives a predatory grin. "Oh, you name it, we got it, Honey." She wriggles slightly as she mumbles in a sultry voice. "And I sincerely mean that."
Qrow hums. "Don't threaten me with a good time. I might be interested in something that won't heal right." He smirks.
The woman's eyes, for a single moment, flash a hint of wariness. Still, she gives off an approval. "Oh, if it hurts, it's part of the job. Although..." She pauses, almost hesitating. "Additional fees come from debilitating the staff. Quadruple rates if... it's permanent."
Qrow pauses. She's serious. So clients can just inflict pain on these workers anytime with only an up charge? That's sick. "Aw. So you do know people harsher than me. I'm not quite THAT sadistic." He adds to the bluff. He gets serious. "That happen a lot? Coworker harmed by a client?"
The woman huffs a laugh. Clearly relieved the man isn't going to put her through the ringer. "M-more often than one may think. It's... typically a back room thing with some specific clients."
The man smirks. "Well, even if I won't go that far, I'd like to see it." He offers his hand. "Shall we?"
The woman evaluates him before winking. "Yes, baby." She takes his hand to lead him further in.
An underground brothel that allows one to torture and sadistically torment their sex workers?
Where else could the Ripper be?
. . .
Winter kneels on the nearby roof top, keeping an eye out. Whis at her side, she feels tense. "He's taking too long."
"Easy now, Agent. Your other two door mice haven't returned. You certain the summoning is still active?" The mustached man mutters by her.
That she can feel. Her other summons are still in the man's pocket. Each minute slightly sapping at her aura. "Yes, but if he takes another hour, I will need to cease the summon entirely or risk my aura levels when the fight happens. I'm already down to seventy five percent."
. . .
"We shouldn't have sent a drunk into a sinful place as this..."
Qrow and the woman, arms around one another, enter the secluded room. Drape doors and doors to private chambers litter the small hall. Sound proof, he figures, as multiple rooms are closed and 'in use'. He keeps his eyes peeled, seeing set up cameras at corners.
Everything is on a closed circuit. The cameras cannot be broadcasting outside of the physical location, so at least some back room must have a surveillance crew.
Entering the room, he notices immediately the sheer totality of... pleasure instruments within the room. Yet, they don't matter. He's got his info source in front of him. Soon as the woman turns to fiddle with the door, Qrow drops the flirtatious grin and personality.
"Now, shall we get comfortable?" The woman teases, not picking up his mood change quite yet.
"Just one last question. A personal one, if you don't mind." Qrow starts. He raises a curious brow. "You've clearly been here a while. Just how long have you been here?"
"Oh, baby. That's up there with asking a woman how old she is. You don't ask that." The woman laughs again, moving to remove her thin top.
However, Qrow's hand stops her. Firm, but not rough, he holds her hand to halt her removal of the fabric. She meets his red gaze and finally realizes the mood shift. "Maybe I should have asked this. How young is the youngest 'employee' here?"
The woman blinks in confusion. "Is... THAT what you're into?"
His gaze hardens, making the woman's throat go dry. A pressure in the air, a shift in aura perhaps? She can feel his threat. "I ask... because I figure the youngest person here is probably the same age as when your boss bought you."
The woman freezes in place...
Waiting a beat, he adds. "So... Care to be honest with me, Series Red 10760?"
Tense, dreadful air is all that hangs as the woman's heart pounds in her chest! Her hazel eyes contract with a panic of fear. "You're-... with AZ-" She stops herself, shaking herself. "O-or are y-you a cop?"
Qrow maintains a harsh glare on the panicking woman. "I'm not with Atlas or AZRL, no." He omits any information, letting the woman's imagination fill the gaps. "First things first... What's your name? You're real name?"
The woman gulps, blinking. Her hesitation could be chalked to fear, but... he can see her literally struggling to remember. To remember a name that the organization erased from existence. "L-Lena." She breathes deeply. "M-my first name was Lena... I don't remember the rest. It's been... over two decades- I-." She breathes rapidly, trying to pull away. "They got me when I was nine... Sold me at 11... here."
Qrow's gut sinks in disgust... An 11 year old girl placed in this job? "Your boss. How deep is his connection to AZRL, and where is he?"
Lena lets out a shaking breath. "He only buys series reds when he can't find people off the streets to work for him. H-he pays them a hush fee per year to not report him, and in exchange they offer their... less than valuables like me."
"How many?" He urges.
"N-no more than one or two every year or so. He rarely needs it with the Mantle Outsiders above being as they are." Lena responds fast. Her lip quivers. "P-Please d-don't kill me. My boss, Tucco, oversees the Grimm arena pits personally."
Qrow narrows his gaze. "When I asked you about clientele hurting the workers, does that include murdering them?" The woman suddenly gets wary. Confused even. His voice drips. "Answer me."
She flinches back. "Ah! I... Yes. You should know that! If you're not with Atlas or AZRL, aren't you from that Cult or whatever?! It's your woman that keeps doing it!"
Got her. Killing the female staff. It has to be the Ripper.
The Ripper is a woman. That part actually surprises him.
The man frowns. "Is she here now? Where is the Ripper?" Seeing no answer, only confusion, he changes up. "What does she look like?"
Lena gulps and takes a breath, speaking slowly. "She... wears leather material. She dresses as if she belongs to the upper class, but she's a fennec fox faunus. You can tell by the ears. They have fur tufts and are pointed. Her general colors are violet and purple..."
Qrow nods. "Thank you... Now, you'll have to stay here until help comes."
Lena perks. "Wha- but you said you weren't with Atlas!" She almost screams.
That brings a glower from the man. "I never said I wasn't a Huntsman."
The woman tenses. "Hunts...man... Oh shit."
"Rest tight." Qrow speaks clearly and easily. And in a single move, he strikes the woman in the nerves by the neck! A hit so quick that the woman barely squeaks as her body goes numb. Following quickly is her vision going black.
Qrow catches her before she can hit the floor, gently carrying her and setting her on the bed within the room. He eyes the woman. Gauging her answers, she's around thirty. A blood boil comes on, not having expected to find AZRL customers here, but if he can kill two birds in one swing...
He moves to leave the room.
Shutting the door and leaving it locked, he looks down the hall, finding two male workers interacting with the last room...
Manipulating a body bag...
Qrow briefly gets a glimpse into the room past the two men, seeing blood splatters stained across the sexual instruments within the room. Qrow moves to a corner, allowing a third of the Grimm mice to exit his pants. He pulls out a small piece of paper, using a small pen swiped from another area of the underground to write a message. "Take this to Winter."
The white Grimm mouse snatches the note and scampers off.
Next, the man turns and leaves the brothel area... He has a murderer to find.
. . .
Scouring through the establishment, Qrow keeps an eye open for someone matching the Ripper's description. Nothing in the card hall. Nothing in the bars. Nothing in the slot floor. No, given their habits, she must be at the blood bath.
Qrow marches into the somewhat open, yet still cramped with crowds in the area. The stone chiseled stands surround a caged off octagon fighting pit. Substantially sized, at that. A roar of cheers and jeers comes with the animal ripping snarl that booms! The huntsman feels the hairs on end that accompany any encounter with Grimm.
Within the pit, a massive size easily able to accommodate at least a few Deathstalkers. This is evidenced by the decaying brittle carapace of a dead Deathstalker being stamped down by two Grimm viciously battling it out!
One, an Ursa major, extra plating and rippling muscle allow the beast to withstand additional hits! The beast is beaten into the ground, cracking the surface as a talon covered foot clamps on it. Standing above it is a Griffon, a four legged fur and bone covered mammal body with avian feet, wings, and head. The wings of the larger Grimm are bound in chains, limiting it to grounded movement.
The half avian beast pins its talons strategically to hold the Ursa down as it snaps at the Grimm bear's neck! The spikes off the Ursa's bone plating keeps the snaps from hitting a critical area. Yet, the beast howls in pain from the bites, attempting to thrash up.
Something Qrow would dwell on as a teenager.
The young mind always makes wonder to spectacle. Who would win in this situation or who is the superior person in this category. Such competitive draw ups of theoretical competition rarely take physical form, but some messed up individuals attempt to. Dog fighting and cock fighting being two of inhumane versions of these thoughts come to life. Set up a fight and watch the spectacle that is so rare to see otherwise.
Some might say that using Grimm, who are objectively malicious beasts, would make these sorts of spectacles okay. They're not REAL animals, so it wouldn't be cruelty, right? Well, much as they may have evidence of that being the case, the fact that some Grimm have mental faculties alone calls it to question.
That's also not counting the ethical problem of the actions. Betting on things fighting to the death is always a moral wrong. Answering that with, 'Well this thing doesn't count as life' is a weak and very dangerous argument. At least, that's how Summer chastised him back at Beacon whenever he and Tai would joke about watching Grimm fights.
Beasts or not, we kill them because we must. Not because we want to watch them die.
Hell, even little Ruby once referred to a Beowolf as cute...
A smile pulls at Qrow's lip, but he quickly breaks it at the loud SNAP that sounds!
The Ursa forced its way out of the Griffon's grasp, pinning it and biting into the avian neck! Black blood splatters about as the Griffon now thrashes about. Spurts of darkness in liquid form squirts into the chain link walls of the octagon arena.
Savage. Qrow sees the slight dusty haze sprinkled into the Grimm's furs. That's how they instigate the Grimm to fight. A powder imitates the taste of average human flesh. They coat the Grimm, letting them go into a frenzy. They then will learn the substance on them is artificial, leading then to stop hurting themselves for the supposed food. Instead, when faced with another Grimm coated, they find the taste but from something they know isn't them. This makes them fight to kill each other.
Effective. If cruel as well.
The Griffon yelp and scrapes the underbelly of the Ursa! The bear struggles to keep control as the avian talons and beak begin to rip into its gut! The Ursa is forced to let go, allowing the Griffon to stand.
However, the Griffon's neck is too damaged. Its head lopping slumps, body control starting to lose out. The Ursa moves around before pouncing again! Suddenly, the Griffon is getting mauled to death by the bear! Cheers erupt!
Qrow glances up to the overhanging lighting. Most of the cabling throughout the arena culminates in a central circuit directly overhead above the wide octagon. He follows the cable trails, hoping for one that can line up with the patron seating. There!
Several spots where the lighting can be controlled. One is accessible nearby. He smirks. A use for the last of the Grimm mice is good to have in the back pocket. The same pocket said monster mouse currently snuggles against his scroll... Little bastard.
The Ursa in the arena is wrangled by seven men with shock and rope sticks, limiting its movement and getting it back into the arena entrance. Getting them in, Qrow spots a ring master on a high point present himself with a mic.
The man large, FAT, even. His bloated form is distracting from his nicely woven clothes. A bald head and smooth bulging cheeks, Qrow wonders if the man will die from his blood pressure before getting anything.
"Our winner: Big Brother! May all our winners who bet on him please collect. Our losers? Never fear. There's always another round!" A thump sounds below, pulling attention back to the arena. "Speaking of which..."
More men come out, presenting a bound Creeper. It wriggles as the men situate it to one side. Across from it, a Boarbatusk is wheeled in from a cage. It rams the bars of the container in a feeble attempt to get out.
Qrow sits back. He can't make out anyone who looks like the Ripper, so he'll hold tight until Winter and Whis launch the attack. Simple. Easy.
Once the ruckus starts, he'll deploy the last mouse to eat out the lighting lines for a cover of darkness while he regroups with them. His strategy is set.
So, easy sailing.
"A barbaric display, is it not?" A sultry, polite voice greets his ears. Sliding directly into the seat next to Qrow...
If he were lesser, he'd strike at the presence he'd been absolutely certain was not there just a second ago. On edge, all his senses screaming at him, he rounds his red eyes to meet chocolate brown... A flawless fair skinned woman beside him... decorated in whites, browns, and violets.
Violet... purple... indigo... With the pointed tips of tufted ears poking out the sides of her gorgeous hair
Where did she come from? He knew for a fact that no one was sneaking up on him! He was checking around him as discreetly as he could! What ability is...
The woman smiles sweetly, offering a hand to the man... "Pleasure to make your acquaintance... You may call me Jackelynn. Would you mind to keep me company before the show begins?" Her head cocks ever slightly, smile slightly too wide... a slight hot nature to her breathing...
Qrow realizes slowly... She's every bit as heightened on her alert as he is. His shock wipes away, replacing itself with a harsh scowl. "... As a matter of fact... Not at all."
As Beacon's top Huntsman stares eye to eye with his quarry... and his hunter. So that's her name? Jackelynn the Ripper...
Well, not sure about the end product, but I got what I wanted to get done completed. Investigations with our three hunters are fun mostly writing from Winter's perspective, plus this Qrow segment at the end showcasing some of the grittier bits of this work.
As for the first half, dealing with the fallout of the last chapter was a big deal. Next episode, we get to play with our hunters a bit in our first major combat scene in half a dozen chapters! Plus setting up the plan in Atlas itself!
A lot going on!
References:
Gendry and Bart are based off of Sindri and Brok from the God of War franchise. Had some fun poking at their attitudes a bit!
Jackelynn the Ripper is Jack the Ripper gender swapped. Her general attire, physique, and personality traits though are based off of a very obscure character. That being Camellia from the RPG series Pathfinder. We'll see more about how she fights (And how she could sneak up on Qrow of all people) next time.
Join next time in Chapter seventy eight: The Word is Rip.