bhehdhrgegeheggg Chapter 10: Grimm si, an a bugs life fanfic

Sleep was nice. The waters were still. The ripples on the sea surface null and void. It was a pleasant place. The warmth of the air blew on my skin, and a smile formed on my lips as I let the currents gingerly guide me. My teeth gritted, and my eyebrows scrunched up slightly, though I did not open my eyes. It was a beautiful place, a nice state of mind in which I found myself. No pain, no suffering, no desires, nothing. Yet there was something wrong. My tongue was pushing against teeth that felt slightly wrong, a bit sharper than normal, perhaps.

I breathed deeper, the salty air of the sea making me think of home. Perhaps I had left the window open, and the breeze had found its way inside. Though I was in the water, so maybe I had fallen asleep while playing dead on the sea's surface? Was it even summer? Hadn't I fallen asleep in March? There was supposed to be a colder weather, and I hadn't yet thought about what to do the next day. No, wait, what next day?

I gasped for air as my eyes snapped open to a beautiful night sky devoid of pollution, freed from the clutches of clouds and blindingly shiny in its myriad of stars and in the shattered moon that hung upon the tapestry of the firmament—this was definitely pure poetry, truly something only my half-asleep mind could bring up—and then my eyes closed firmly, a headache drumming itself into the base of my skull, like a small drill working its way through my spine, rushing across my bones and my chest.

The insides of my chest drummed, but they didn't drum like the normal beating of my heart, but kind-of exploded with a dull echo similar to a battering ram threatening to leave me. It was the kind of thing that hurt, and with the pain came the dawning realization that I was not in the middle of the sea, or in my bathtub.

I was in a viscous liquid dark in color, pulsing crystals of dark purple shining ghastly lights down upon the reddish sands and the cracks of the ground.

I raised a hand, and it was a painful prospect because it felt as if my muscles had never been used, never been taut or bent, never been the reason I could walk or lift things. Was this how Neo felt when he awoke from the Matrix? Weak like a baby, and with tears threatening to leave his eyes from the burning sensation that encompassed his whole body? Because I felt as if I was burning, my whole being awash in flames. Was it the liquid? Was I allergic to it? The dark waters were cool to the touch, and yet they burned. They burned, or was it my skin that burned?

What was it that burned?

Thick, grisly arms of a black substance covered in fur lashed out across the dark waters. White clawed fingers cruelly tensed and clutched on the reddish wet mud to pull my body out. Spikes of white trembled and clenched tighter together, skeletal in appearance, and yet veined with crimson lines that weren't arteries or veins. My legs felt wrong, and yet were right. My feet were white, and cruel talons clutched the mud as the rest of my body pushed itself out from the watery depths.

I was not alone. The tranquil pond of dark liquid trembled and broke, and crimson eyes blazed into existence from the darkness, the murky liquid dripping down to reveal white masks and wolf-like bodies that slowly, but surely, came to a halt by my side.

I stared at them, and they stared at me.

My screams became howls.

Their howls soon joined mine.

My tail waggled slowly as I tried to walk on both of my legs, only for my balance to push my body forward, forcing me on all fours. Behind me, the Beowolves mimicked me. They didn't howl, nor grumble. I took a step forward, and they did the same. I would have scrunched my eyebrows up in thoughts, but the bone-like mask didn't have eyebrows. It did feel as if I had done it though, but no outward changes were predominant as my reflection in the murky dark waters remained unchanged.

I raised a clawed hand, and the Beowolf I was looking at copied me, not really questioning it. I inclined my head to the side, my tongue licking my sharp fangs, and he did the same. Honestly, it was like being in front of a mirror. I lowered my paw, and he did the same.

Only rough growls escaped my throat, but as they did in tune, so too did the other Beowolves of my pack mimic them.

Short and sharp growls were copied, longer ones too. Short and long ones too, and in order. They had good memory, or perhaps they didn't need memory when it came to me? It wasn't like I was giving them mental orders, because no matter how much I thought about it, the Beowolves didn't move without a spoken command.

I extended a paw and pointed at one of them, and then gestured to the top of a cliff nearby. I pointed repeatedly, but the creature didn't as much as move. It didn't twitch, or blink, or do anything wolf-like or dog-like. It simply remained on its four legs, in wait. It had a tail, but it didn't even waggle it. I took a deep breath, although no lungs expanded from the act itself. Turning my back to the small group of Beowolves that had decided I was their leader for some strange reason, I began to trudge forward on my shaky four limbs.

I was used to walking on two legs, so getting the rhythm right on four was quite different. I could stand up in time to slash with my claws, but the balance was utterly bogus.

I didn't even have a direction in mind. It was more like I knew I had to go somewhere, but I had no idea of where it was. If anything, my steps moved my body as if I was walking back home, the gait in my step increasing as I broke out into a small run. Behind me, the Beowolves settled into formation, my neck craning right and left to catch a glimpse of them, and in so doing I missed a crystal outcrop from the ground, stumbled, and proceeded to roll on the dirty red sand.

I wasn't tired.

I didn't need to breathe. I wasn't tired. I was a murdermachine who had no concept of sleep, a Von Neumann biological creation whose only purpose was to kill, a bioweapon perhaps, or maybe some sort of mumbo-jumbo mystical shit that came from the Godly brothers, or evil of the world. Whatever the reason, I was something that would see me killed the moment Hunters came into the fray. An intoxicating scent of coffee caught my nostrils, and I abruptly stilled. My neck snapped to the side, to the source of the smell, and as I glanced at my pack, I realized they too had smelled it.

What the hell was someone brewing coffee of all things in this place? And since when was I capable of smelling it from such a distance? No matter how much I cheesed out about caffeine, the truth was that I didn't have superpowers tied to it. Still, as I hastily rushed towards the nearby hill, and climbed my way over the crest, understanding dawned, and with it, disgust.

A man wearing a Grimm mask was bleeding to death, a Beowolf locked in a fight with him. The man's aura had been drained, or was non-existent, and his fear, his terror, his heartbeat—they were a mixture of beautiful salivating smells to my nostrils. It was my brain who was changing the smell of his emotions into things I could comprehend, and as I shuddered from revulsion, I watched the man stumble away from a swipe of the claw. He didn't look like a member of the White Fang. No, judging by how weakly he was fighting, he was probably going to die soon from blood loss, if the Grimm didn't get to him first.

I rushed down from the side of the hill. I had no idea if I'd reach him in time, nor a clue on what would happen if I tackled my fellow Grimm by the shoulder. What I hoped was that I could chalk it up to being a neophyte and having slipped against my 'Senpai'. I changed course once I realized I was too late, the Beowolf already engaging the masked man delivering a powerful claw swing to his face, literally shattering the mask, and half of the man's face. As he fell, I felt something akin to the beating of a heart within my rib cage, my neck twitching slightly as I licked my lips.

No.

I shook my head, rushing past the Beowolf feasting on the man's corpse, and grimly realized that the rest of my pack had decided to stop for a quick bite rather than keep following me.

I had no intention of doing that, thank you very much, and so I didn't stop.

I could feel something pull to me, that peculiar feeling of going home still deeply throbbing into my chest. The dunes of red sand and filled with purple-colored crystals were every now and then breaking the monotony of the view with a few ponds of dark liquid, which depending on its size would also have nearby Grimms of different types. A few Nevermore cawed as they seemed to get the hang of flying, and a Goliath nonchalantly looked at me pass him by without care.

I was really glad I wasn't registering as a human to them, or I'd be dead. I'd be dead, and eaten.

I saw the palace I was heading for, and my non-existing heart leaped in my chest as I accelerated in my dash. Running faster was easy. Slowing down, though, proved not easy, especially on sand. My claws outright slipped against the fine red sand, and as my body lost control, I ended up stumbling. I rolled on the ground as my back hit the large door meant as a main entrance of the place, and the doors gave way to my girth and weight, opening with a sharp clangor. My talons and claws hit the marble tiles, the white and black monochromatic style making me wonder if I had ended up in Crudelia Demon's castle, but still the nagging feeling of being home didn't abate, and if anything, it made me at ease.

This was home.

"What are you doing?" a female voice asked, and as it did, my tail began to waggle.

In front of me stood the white-haired Salem.

And all that I wanted was to hug her and call her mom.

Salem's fingers intertwined as she clasped her hands in front of her, her crimson eyes surrounded by pitch-black darkness staring at me, her skin as white as porcelain veined with black. Her hair was in white curls, her dress snugging fitly to her frame as she slowly, but surely, walked closer to me. My limbs refused to fully obey me. Not that I would have been able to swing a claw at her, but the mere thought of doing such a thing became an impossibility. A part of me, a small, yet extremely vocal part of me refused the sheer principle of attacking her. It was the part that kept my claws still.

"What brings you here?" Salem asked, her expression not really puzzled, more like a mask of indifference. "Has a human entered the palace?" she reached with her index and middle fingers to touch the side of her chin, "I do not sense them." She furrowed her brows. "A semblance, perhaps?"

I swallowed, though there was no saliva to swallow in my throat. I shook my head, patting my chest with my claw.

"No?" she glanced at me, her fingers once more knit together. "Why are you not..." she neared, unafraid. Her right hand came for the side of my face, her fingers touching my Grimm mask. She kept a face of indifference even as she dutifully traced the crimson veins of the white bone-like mask, "There is something different about you, is there not?" she asked. "You do not feel like an Alpha."

I carefully nodded, a very slow motion since her fingers were still by the side of my mask, which doubled as my actual face. She removed her hand and as her lips twitched in a tiny smile, she turned her back on me. "If you desire to follow me, then so be it. Be forewarned that I do not tolerate disobedience." She glanced back towards me, "also avoid stepping on my dress. I guarantee you, it is a foolishness you will never be forgiven for."

I would have blinked, if I had had any eyebrows to do the motion. As it was, I found myself carefully avoiding the dress' train, clambering to follow the pale lady up a flight of stairs covered in thick, velvety carpets. I growled slightly as I followed behind her, my clawed right hand pressing against my throat. Salem chuckled. "Patience," she said. "There is no hurry. I will grant you speech."

Thus we slowly walked forward on a hallway large and imposing, suits of armor hanging by its sides as large windows showed the barren lands beyond with dark clouds looming, ready to unleash torrential downpour on the blighted crimson sand.

"You are newly born, and yet already wise as if hundred of years old," Salem mused as she came to a halt just outside a door. "It is the way of the Grimm to surprise," she remained still. She looked up at me, and I stared back down at her. "A lady does not open a door. A door opens for a lady."

I nodded, and proceeded to lunge for the truly offensive door who dared not open, and as I pushed down on the handle and pried it off, the door swung open. I gingerly made a bowing gesture as I extended both hands within the room, to gesture that the way was open.

"Less strength," Salem spoke in monotone, "The door will need to be replaced."

I hesitantly emitted a whine as if I had been a kicked dog, trying to close the door behind us with as much care as it was possible. The door's hinges burst, and with a sordid thunk, the door itself fell on the floor. Salem said nothing. She merely stared at the fallen door, then up at my sheepish face —was I even making a sheepish face? Was my mask capable of emitting sheepish shapes? I sure hoped it could.

I felt my tail brush against the ground. I had dropped it instinctively, but as Salem didn't seem willing to berate me, it rose back up and began to waggle slowly. This unnerved and angered me in equal parts. Was the body mine, or was I merely playing half-passenger and half-pilot? It could be that I was a sort-of parasite for the Grimm I was inhabiting, which would explain some of my reactions, but at the same time was this truly it? Could I move into another host if that was the case?

How did it even work to begin with?

The large, circular room had stacks of shelves everywhere, settled upon multiple levels connected by wooden ladders. Small Jellyfish-like Grimm floated while making crackling sounds up and down, their long tendrils gingerly plucking books and reordering them. As they slowly worked above our heads, Salem stopped in front of what could only be her desk, a large book with pages yellow from age in front of her.

With deliberate, but careful, motions she began to turn the pages. I watched silently from behind her shoulder, the pages filled with pictures of Grimm masterfully drawn. She came to a halt as she reached the end of the pictures, and the beginning of blank pages. Extending a hand, she grabbed from the top of the desk a black feather, and after dipping it into a small pot of ink by the side of the book, she began to draw.

I watched, silently, as she drew each line with flawless perfection, finishing in mere minutes what would have taken a world-famous artist months. She did it all without mistakes, or blotches of ink to ruin the paper. The ink itself was black, and yet it changed color as it stained the parchment to fill up the lines, crafting a Grimm upon the pages within mere seconds that felt familiar to my eyes.

"Here you are," Salem said, nonchalantly taking a step to the side to show me the picture. "What should I call you?"

I moved a hand to clutch my throat, and growled slightly once more. I'd rather say it myself, no?

Salem touched the tip of the book's page, lines of ink spreading from the tip of her finger upon it, reaching for the bottom of the picture where, in a neat cursive, a name appeared.

Beowolf Beta.

I snorted, and shook my head.

Salem raised an eyebrow with a slow, deliberate motion, and the name changed once more.

Beowolf Omega.

Once more, I shook my head. I pointed at my throat and growled. I repeatedly thumped my neck, as if to say, let me speak my name rather than play charades!

Salem simply smiled, and the name changed one last time.

Shade.

I froze.

Salem kept the smile on her face as she raised her other hand, touching my mask and gingerly patting it. My body betrayed me, immediately kneeling down to allow for her fingers to rub the top of my head, while my tail waggled happily.

"Now I will grant you the gift of speech, Shade," she spoke without any outward sign of emotion, a Jellyfish-like Grimm crackling as it came down, landing on her open palm.

Where are you directing those tentacles, Salem?

What are you doing—No—my purity!

I coughed as my throat constricted, twitching and trembling as the first hesitant word left my mouth. "Hello," I croaked out. I was the father of all baritones, I had what amounted to the most feral and deep timbres that could ever be crafted for a man, and yet my first word came out surprisingly meek-sounding. Mostly, it was because Salem stood in front of me, and her outstretched hand was resting atop my furry head, forcing me to stay down on all fours like some sort of dog. Also, I was pretty sure she could smash my skull like a ripe watermelon if she squeezed just a little bit, and it was something I didn't want to try.

"Good evening," Salem replied dutifully, her eyes casting a brief glance to the windows. "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

I stared at her. I swear that in that moment, I would have loved for nothing less than to hold on to a pair of eyebrows just so that I could blink with them. Oi. The fuck. The hell. Frigging wut man. "I eat?" I croaked out, trying to recover some semblance of control.

"Everything that lives eats," Salem replied, removing her hand from the top of my head. "Grimm are no different, Shade." She clasped her fingers together, her hands' palms pressed against one another as she walked past me, "Do use the brain you possess. You were born with it, and leaving it to rot is no excuse," she chided me, and as I winced as if I had actually been lashed, there was no pain to it. No, it was instinctive. Displeasing her made my body feel bad in the sense of having betrayed her expectations. It was the kind of thing I'd feel after failing my readers in keeping an update rate satisfactory for us both, but it was even worse when Salem herself said so.

"Sorry," I said ashamed as I began to walk by her side, slightly behind her. She stopped by the door, or what little remained of it, and then turned to look at me.

"Despair made manifest, hatred given form, anger incarnate..." I stared at her, even as a small smile settled on her lips. "I could truly use someone like that," she remarked, "Unfortunately, you are not like that at all." She shook her head slightly. "Never mind," she passed the door, "I will find something for you to do."

The instinctive reply came to the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. Salem stopped briefly, and then resumed her walking. I stared at her with a brief glance, and then kept trudging behind her. I had a bad feeling, but there had to be a limit to it. Admittedly, nothing could be without its flaws.

"It does not work on humans," Salem said without stopping, though the words itself did make me stop. "You, on the other hand, are not one any longer."

She could read my mind.

She could read all of my mind.

She could read every single inch, spot, line, word, emotion of it and she was doing it right now and there was just so much she could find out or discover that it would be inconsequential to even believe there was a way to stop her now. She could do anything she wished with the knowledge, she could—

"You seem mistaken," Salem said, "There never was any hope for the likes of mankind or faunuskind." She turned to look at me, the distance between us something that I could close with but a simple lunging motion. "There never has been, and now, more than ever, their end draws near with each passing moment." The rays of the moon pierced through a nearby window, shining down on the pale face of Salem, bringing out the darkness of her eyes, and the crimson light within that shone of a proper inner fire. "Humanity will die. Be thankful, then, that you are no longer human," she smiled. "You will watch them burn." Her last words were a whisper, and as she turned to continue her walk, I felt my claws clench.

My tail waggled happily at the thought of murdering humans.

Inwardly, I reeled from disgust.

"Why?" I asked, my voice reaching her. I knew it could reach her, and I knew it did, because she stopped walking, but this time didn't turn back.

"They deserve it," she answered, and that was all she was willing to tell me before continuing her slow and methodical walk through the corridor.

"No, they don't." I received no reply, and thus I hastened my step to catch up with Salem. "They don't," I repeated.

"Your arguments may differ from those of Ozpin," Salem acquiesced, "But they are meaningless arguments all the same. The Grimm shall destroy all humans, and all faunus. If they die of old age without leaving heirs, or if they die butchered, I do not care as long as they die. Do not waste your breath. You will not convince me." She came to a halt in front of a large archway, whose white doors opened by themselves, veined with dark, crimson lines. Within, a large and long table stood set without a flaw, countless plates, napkins, chairs placed in perfect symmetry.

Salem gingerly touched a chair by the side of the table. It wasn't the first, nor was it the last. It was somewhere in the middle. "You may sit here," she said. "Dinner will be served soon."

I looked at the flimsy chair, and as Salem walked past it, heading for the seat at the end of the table, I hesitantly tried to pick the chair up and move it back. Using claws, it wasn't as easy as one might have thought. When I did manage, I squeezed my tail to the left and held my lower legs tense, knowing fully well that the chair wasn't really going to hold my weight.

In the end, after a brief second of hesitation, I simply pushed the chair further back and sat on all fours. I was, after all, taller than before. I could thus just as easily eat while sitting on the floor like a dog.

A Jellyfish-like creature slowly floated inside the room, a pair of platters normally used for soup in its tentacles, and as it gingerly reached Salem first to place it masterfully in front of her, it then proceeded to turn around and deliver one to me in turn. I stared at the bowl, and then at the flimsy silver spoons by the side. I wasn't close enough to Salem to understand which spoon to use, but it wasn't like she could see which spoon I was using in turn.

They all looked the same in the end.

I settled for a big one, hoping I was in the right. Using massive claws to grab a tiny spoon was not how I planned on starting my dinner, but it was better than eating people raw. Very, very calmly, I got the spoon to balance on my thumb and index finger. If I held the spoon in my hand, it outright disappear since it was way smaller than my palm. Taking a deep breath, I brought the spoon down, and then brought it back up to my teeth.

I swallowed, and reflexively the spoon crunched and shattered against my teeth.

Near me, a Jellyfish-like Grimm brought another spoon, delicately placing it on the spot from which I had taken the previous one. The liquid that fell down my throat didn't taste like anything, and didn't have any peculiar characteristic. It tasted like nothing, and smelled like nothing.

Salem finished sooner than me, but waited patiently until I was done.

"You wondered why I sought to kill everyone," Salem spoke, and while she did not yell, nor raise her voice, it still easily carried through the air towards me. "The reason is simple. We cannot coexist." Salem folded the napkin in front of her, cleaning her lips before taking a sip from a similarly dark liquid that had been served from a pitcher by another Jellyfish. "I would be upfront and tell you—" she stopped briefly, "But I see you do not believe me, for in your eyes there is no justification for genocide. My reasons are valid, suffice to say for now, and you will discover them in time, once you will come to trust my words as truths, and not as mere attempts to bring you to my side." She emitted a single, quite lady-like too, giggle. "Quite arrogant on your part, to expect me to have a need for the likes of you."

"So...what now?" I asked. "Will you...kill me? I won't do evil things for you."

"No, I will not," Salem replied. "Eventually, slowly but inevitably, you will come to trust me." She rose from her seat and I did the same, "It is what you would call Stockholm Syndrome."

"Am I a prisoner then?" I growled out next, only for Salem to walk closer to me, my own body betraying my thoughts as it demurely knelt down. "I can't even control my body near you," I snarled next.

Salem simply placed a hand on my head, her fingers delicately rubbing a spot behind my ear that somehow made one of my legs twitch and thump against the ground. I wasn't feeling the pleasure of the act, but merely that the act was happening. Stupid Grimm-body, doing stupid Grimm-things.

"Who would take you in?" Salem asked with a smooth, soft voice that made something deep within me twitch with loneliness and the desire for the patting to keep on happening. "Who would understand you?" she slowly removed her hand from my head, and then clasped it together with her other one. "You may go wherever you please, and speak of whatever you wish," she continued. "But you have no part to play as you are, and Ozpin will see you removed, or destroyed." She began to walk past me. "But do not believe me. Go, go avoid the Huntsman trained to kill your kind by sight. Go bring strife and fear into the heart of the villagers as your brethren follows you in your quest destined for failure. Go then, Shade, and try. In the end, we both know you will come back here."

I stared at her retreating back, and then down at my claws, and my furred body, and the pitch-black essence that composed it just as much as I looked at the white, bony protrusions that formed some form of added armor to my already thick skin.

If I left, I'd die. If I didn't leave, I had no doubt Salem would do or say something one way or another to convince me in the end.

I had to compromise, the first rule when dealing with the unknown was to know your enemy. It was time to hit the books, Salem's books in particular, and find out the truth of the Grimm by myself.

Yet somehow, deep down, I had the inkling that this had been Salem's purpose all along.

Salem's soft chuckle as she left the room did nothing to discourage me from that thought.

Have you ever tried to read a pocket book open on the floor while standing up? Because I was doing something similar to that, and while my vision was perfect as a Grimm, it still didn't make it any less silly to watch. The books were written in a form of archaic English that made it difficult to understand, but even if these books were on the side of the Grimm—I had no doubt they were, because when in enemy territory, assume everything is on the enemy's side—they could still offer valuable insight.

"Grimm are a product of human malice," I hummed. "They seek to bring forth the end of humanity so as to disappear, because their existence is pain."

I stared at my arms, briefly wondering if I wasn't feeling pain due to the body I was in, or perhaps because there was something wrong with it. I flipped open another book on the argument, "Captured Grimm disappear after a short while, yet while their numbers may dwindle, they never disappear fully. The Grimm are born and are attracted to malice once more, only for valiant Hunters to defend us—"

I trudged through another book, "Smoke is released from a defeated Grimm, but it is not toxic to humans, nor does it cause any visible long term effects."

I stared out of the large windows, gazing at the dark sky and at the puddles of dark liquid. I looked, and then returned to look at the book. I blinked. "It's the cycle of Grimm," I muttered. "Gaseous, Liquid, Solid. When Grimm die, they move here, and then fall back down like rain. They reform, and get down to hunting once more." This sudden insight of mine had no proof beyond what could be observed, but it was as good of a theory as any other. Thus, if we assumed that it was a natural part of the ecosystem of the world, then the Grimm truly were the inhabitants of this world.

"Let's go the Sci-Fi angle and claim humanity came after," I said, "But they had a technological progress, so it's not possible. There would be traces of their past, unless they ended up destroyed. Let's assume there's a crashed spaceship somewhere, it would explain the broken moon...or perhaps it's the other way around." I would have pinched the bridge of my nose, but I had claws, and no nose. Well, I had a mask-like snout. It wasn't the same thing.

In the end, either the Grimm or the Humans were the invading forces. It was clear. Someone had come first, and that someone was the troublesome element. Humans could have done something bad, birthing the Grimm as a sort of self-defense mechanism of the world, or the Grimm could have ended up displaced due to the humans, turning to fighting them as a mean to ensure their survival. Considering just how happy humans were in their conquest of a world, easily destroying other races when it suited their needs, driving many to extinction, a creature capable of reading the dark thoughts of mankind would without a doubt be appalled, and choose extermination over coexistence.

The Native Americans did coexist with the Americans at one point after all. It didn't end well for them at all.

"The truth is always in the middle," I growled out, trying to force myself to flip through a page, only for it to shred miserably at the border. I hastily removed my claw from it, and groaned. Things would be smoother if I had someone else to flip the pages for me. One of those Jellyfish-Grimm would work well, they had tentacles. Filthy, disgusting, far-reaching groping tentacles, but at least they had the ability to swish through pages without tearing the books apart!

The crackling of a Jellyfish-Grimm reached my keen hearing as my ears twitched, one of them slowly floating down from up above. It carefully grabbed the book, and then lifted it up to my face, one of its tentacles slowly moving the page forward without ripping it.

I stared at the Jellyfish.

"Not forgiven yet," I growled at it, but it didn't as much as budge. I kept a wary eye on the tentacles, but as the pages flipped, I immersed myself in the readings.

At the end of the day, there wasn't a definite proof of guilt or innocence. Grimm killed people because they were attracted to their malice, and whether the Brother-Gods were involved or not was meaningless. The moon had shattered due to some unforeseen event at the dawn of mankind, and it could be, or it could not be, connected to it all. Whether the Grimm were the original inhabitants of this world, and mankind an invader, or whether they were the innocent spirits of tortured beasts facing off cruel humans, the key points didn't change.

Grimm killed humans. Humans killed Grimm. Instinctively, I was prone to saying that since the young Grimm killed without remorse or fear, or sense of self-conservation, and it took hundred of years for them to mature a form of survival of the self, then they were a literal embodiment of hatred for all human life. Were they such due to man's nature, or due to an abuse of Dust that was considered by some the blood of the earth? Who knew. Who truly knew.

I didn't.

All that the books did was to chalk up conjectures, theories, hypothesis that couldn't be proven without actually asking the one giant elephant in the room.

"I am not a Goliath," Salem spoke from behind me. I turned my head swiftly. I hadn't heard her enter the room. Then again, this was her office. I was reading her books. "You may peruse my books at your leisure, but do not ruin them."

"Sorry," I grunted out. "He didn't come down sooner," I grumbled to the Jellyfish.

Salem said nothing, but simply walked to her desk and sat down. I turned to look at her, and as a neat stack of parchment was put in front of her, she slowly dipped a raven's feather inside a ink pot, before starting to pen a letter.

I looked at her, my words unspoken. Since they were unspoken, she did not reply to them. The Jellyfish-like Grimm returned the book to its place, another floating in from outside with a large, metallic chair which he gingerly dropped without a sound in front of me. I looked at the chair. It even had a hole for my tail. I stared. I stared at it, and then back at Salem, and then back at the chair.

"If you wish to seat rather than sit like a dog," Salem said in the end, having finished scribbling on the parchment. She sealed the letter in an envelope, and as a Jellyfish grabbed hold of it and began to carry it out, I looked at it go. The moment the door closed behind it, I snapped my head back towards Salem, who was scribbling yet another letter, it seemed.

"I know what you're trying to do," I said gruffly. "It won't work."

"I have decided to do nothing," Salem replied nonchalantly. "You may bark at my hand for as long as you wish. It is inconsequential. You have delivered to me everything you could possibly give me. I have no further use of you, and no desire to waste the effort of destroying you."

I gritted my teeth, a low growl leaving my throat as I clenched my claws. Yet the very thought of lunging for her remained just that, a thought. It didn't materialize, no matter how much I wished for it. "The story is still open," I hissed. "Heroes always win in the end."

"Then it is fortuitous," Salem replied without missing a beat, or a change of inflection, "We are the heroes of this story." She nonchalantly folded the letter she had just written, and as another Jellyfish grabbed hold of it, she immediately went forward with yet one more parchment.

"Who are you writing to?" I asked in the end.

"There are many people out in the world who would, in exchange for their life, for wealth and things that we Grimm do not care for, sell their own mothers. We sense them, we near them, we offer them sweet deals that we know their deepest, basest desires would never refuse," Salem mused, "And when the time comes, if they still wish to earn more, then they obey us without question."

"And what orders did you give?" I asked once more, already dreading the answer.

"None," Salem replied. I didn't believe her.

I didn't believe her, but what could she do? What would I do if I were a creature hell-bent on the destruction of human life, and yet be handed on a platter the future events that had yet to happen. Sure, the series was halted at a point in time where she was at her strongest, and perhaps that was the only saving grace.

Salem chuckled. She chuckled only once, but it was enough to make me stop. I stared at her, I stared at her uncaring frame, and then would have loved nothing less than to furrow my brows, but I had none. I looked at her face devoid of expressions, at the way in which she wrote, and as she finished the letter she folded it up, before letting another floating Jellyfish bring it out.

"Why did you laugh just now?" I asked, and Salem merely turned to look at me without as much as batting an eyelid—lucky her that she still had eyelids.

"You always assume too much," Salem replied. "In this particular circumstance, I will kindly tell you that you have many things wrong, but one is more important than the others." She looked straight at me, and then spoke words that ignited something dark and ugly within me. "You have arrived here years before the due time, Shade." She then twitched her lips in a small smile, "the tiny flame is nothing but an ember, and as such, it will be snuffed out faster than you can think."

I growled as I angrily grabbed the chair made of metal from my side, aiming to throw it at her only for the limb to lose its strength. I ground my teeth angrily, spikes of white bone breaking from my skin as I howled, my claws elongating as my eyes blazed with fury. I couldn't get close to her and rip her to shreds. I couldn't get to her, I couldn't strike at her, and if there were no heroes, then there was little choice but to—

"You are free to go, to try to do anything in your power," Salem remarked. "We are in Mistral, and the little girl lies in Patch. Protected by her Uncle and father every day of her life, but not on one singular fateful night," her voice remained even, and tranquil. "It would be a true pity if, on that night, the Grimm were faster than an old Qrow, no?"

"You want me to go," I snarled.

"Yes," Salem replied. "Go and bring me the girl," she continued. "Bring her here, to me, and I will not kill her sister, nor her. You have my word. If you do nothing, she will die. You cannot hit me, nor any of the other Grimm so you cannot stop them. And indeed," she looked straight at me, having read my thoughts, "I need but a thought to take away the gift of speech I granted you." She smiled thus, and her smile was deep. "Go now, and the girl may live. Dally, and she will be lost forever."

"This isn't over," I hissed. "I can always bring her elsewhere."

Salem nodded, "Then do so."

I towered over Salem as I clenched my claws. There was a trick. There always was a trick. I couldn't hit her, couldn't slice at her, but I could tower menacingly over her. If only I had some form of Stand to cover the distance in my stead. "How am I even supposed to make it over there in time?"

Salem didn't say anything.

The Jellyfish-Grimm crackled as they descended like a mass of wriggling tentacles, and my howls of infringed purity were twisted into nothingness, as they simply threw me out of the window and onto the back of a large Nevermore, who was apparently in wait just beneath the large windows for someone to fall on his back.

Salem watched me with indifference from the window, and then turned her back on me as the Nevermore took speed, flapping its wings and rising up in the air, my claws digging into the bird's sides to hold on, and yet not harming him in the slightest.

I hated Salem.

That hatred, somehow, made my spikes harden and grow.

I didn't like this one bit.

I didn't like it at all.

Salem didn't need to convince me to act. She simply needed to make it clear that inaction would bring forth troubles. I couldn't bring Ruby to Ozpin, because Patch was elsewhere, and if I couldn't communicate with Qrow or anyone else, then even if I died—and I wasn't really keen on dying—trying to keep the kids away from the forest Salem simply had to try again. She knew where Ruby was after all, and she simply needed to persist a tiny bit better, send someone strong enough like that mad scorpion assassin and then it would be over.

The kid would be taken, brainwashed or killed, and it would be on my claws.

Still, Salem's words hadn't been a lie. I couldn't snap the neck of the Nevermore I was flying on, even the sheer thought of doing something like came as foolish and suicidal. Sure, we were flying countless miles up in the air, and yes, I was holding on out of sheer fear, but still even though it would be perfectly normal for me to wish not to squeeze the Nevermore's neck to death, it turned out I also couldn't actually do it.

It wasn't Salem alone.

Grimm couldn't hurt one another. This was kind of interesting. Unless Salem was the exception to the rule, but judging by how she had phrased the fact that she'd need to put in effort to kill me, then it made sense. We were the same natural organism. Sure, two wolves would bite at one another's neck for food, supremacy, and in general for a lot of different things, but they wouldn't normally eat one another unless there was a reason, a reason that Grimm lacked. Grimm couldn't get hungry, and thus wouldn't fight each other to eat. They were mindless, but their main priority was killing humans, and thus didn't waste time killing each others.

They were beasts, but they didn't care about pack hierarchy. They had no concept of packs to begin with. Salem was the top dog, and everyone else obeyed her or did its thing by trying to kill as many humans as possible and as quickly as possible. Or they bid their time by patrolling their borders, seeking out the fools, the desperate and the hungry in order to chew on them for no apparent reason but to relish the act of the kill itself.

I was different.

If only this damn bird could fly a little bit lower—and abruptly, it did.

I stared at the bird. The Nevermore didn't caw. It didn't speak. It simply flapped its wings as it trudged on. While holding on, I carefully nudged it, but it didn't turn. If only it could slow down a bit, or turn to the right, or frigging go left—and as the Nevermore did that, I understood. I understood and I would have laughed if I hadn't to busy myself with staying on the back of the damn bird spiraling nearly out of control.

Grimm were mindless beasts attracted to malice and humans. What was important was the mindless part. Without a mind, and going only by instincts, what monkey sees is what monkeys does, and if someone was to give an order, then they'd follow it unless food came into their sights. I couldn't control the Grimm, not like Salem could, not to her extent, but I was pretty sure I could get the damn bird to fly elsewhere.

To go elsewhere, perhaps even to Ozpin, perhaps—no. Salem knew. She wouldn't stop me, but she didn't need to stop me in particular. She just had to force the Nevermore to crash-dive into the ocean, where Sea Dragons would then devour Ruby whole. Even if I took the long route, how was a giant Grimm supposed to hide himself? I couldn't let Salem take the kid, and I couldn't just leave her alone. Honestly, the best solution I was coming up with was to simply take care of her myself. But I didn't think it would work out.

Still, as the days went by, I realized a few truths of the Grimm. They were tireless, they were never bored, and they didn't have to worry about having to stop for quick bathroom breaks. I wouldn't be able to bring Ruby back like this. Even if the Nevermore increased in speed, she'd still need to eat, drink and sleep. I didn't precisely count the days, but a week elapsed before the landscape below the Nevermore turned from the deep waters of the ocean into the mountain ridges. Had I been on an airplane, it would have been over in a matter of hours, but as it was there was nothing I could do but use the power of wings.

Wings which were too slow to carry a child across.

Perhaps this was the ugly face of Salem in the end. Even when offered a choice, it's still a rotten one. Then, I'd have no choice but to create my own set.

The Nevermore abruptly spun beyond my control, Salem's handiwork into its actions. The creature's eyes blazed briefly, and as I violently fell down into a forest, shattering on impact a couple of trees, I knew I had arrived. The Nevermore landed a short distance away with ease, plopping down and standing there in wait.

"Directions?" I growled as I stood back up, shedding the bits and pieces of wood that were clinging to me together with the plant's sap. The giant bird's eyes simply glowed, no words, no gestures, leaving its eyes or white porcelain mask. Then, as if it had finally decided to help me, it simply pointed a wing at the side of its head. This was Salem, guiding it. I inclined my head to the side, and as my nostrils breathed in the fresh air, a shimmering taste that made my mouth salivate filled my lungs. I snapped my head to the source of the smell, and my legs rushed forth faster than my brain could compute the order to stop.

The house was a two-story wooden building, and as I stopped abruptly at its borders, I knew the reason was because I could feel not just the despair, and the grief, but also the people involved in it.

The mother had left, and the children were crying. The wife had left, and the husband was torn between anger and sadness. The sister had gone, and the brother was ashamed and angry. Those emotions twirled, but as they did, so too did twigs snap as Beowolves and Ursa began to draw closer, their eyes ablaze. I looked to my right, and then to my left. A pack of Grimm looked at me expectantly.

No. No we are not doing this.

One of the Grimm actually began to lunge in an effort to leave, and as I swiftly grabbed hold of his shoulder, I pulled him back.

Wait. I actually managed that? Wait a minute. Ah—I couldn't even think about hurting them, but pulling them away from trouble was within acceptable parameters for this biological-imperative driven monstrosity. These Grimm would die if they faced the Hunters inside, and thus stopping them meant saving them from certain death. Somehow, the intelligence behind the design of the Grimm did not make me feel any better.

Also, they didn't appear willing to disobey. It was strange, but there was no snapping, or growling. The Beowolf quietly accepted my judgment of the situation without a word, and remained still and in wait. An Ursa a bit far away didn't receive the note, and rushed forward while growling angrily. She didn't make half the garden that a swift scythe-like blade sliced the creature in half, turning it into ashes within mere seconds.

The Huntsman known as Qrow watched, with barely contained disdain, the Grimm within the forest. His eyes settled on me for the briefest of instants, and then past me to the rest of the Ursa who had decided to rush forward. All right, I was now dubbing the Ursa the dumb beasts known as Meat-Shields, Redshirts, and whatnot.

He's a hunter who swings his scythe, drag him in the middle of the thick forest if you want a chance by limiting his movements at the very least! Not that I believed it would work. Qrow was fast. He truly was the fastest I had ever seen a man be. His swings were barely perceptible, and the time honored tradition of running away didn't suit the Grimm. He also did a great job in keeping them in line in front of him, or at least in his frontal arc to prevent them from surrounding him. He was, after all, a highly skilled and trained Huntsman.

I realized too late that I had lost a couple of Beowolves by my side who had decided to rush towards their deaths. I stared at the duo run, and then stared even harder as they abruptly bypassed Qrow in his entirety in order to bodily jump inside the house through two of its windows.

The distraction of the broken glass was enough to bring an Ursa to execute what I could only describe as a body tackle, and while Aura dulled the blow and Qrow quickly recovered, two Beowolves from my side rushed towards the house next.

Oi! Oi! No! Bad wolves! Come back here! Just because Qrow's the most difficult it doesn't mean Taiyang's any less of a strong hunter! He'll punch you through the wall! He'll punch, kick and break you! Come back here! Don't do something so—and as the last Grimm of my entourage left me, I stared with dawning comprehension and horror as it didn't take the windows, but instead climbed the outer wall with its thick claws slammed into the wooden walls.

I understood it then.

Have you ever had a situation in which you say one thing, think another, and do a third one? A situation in which they ask if you'd kill a man, and then say no, do nothing, but yet think about how you'd go about doing it if you didn't have any moral, or ethical questions?

Well, the Grimm were mindless but for their effort in killing. They obeyed orders only when they meant that they could kill more, and better. They didn't follow orders that weren't tied to their primary directives, but didn't disobey them either. No, in the end, the Grimm were flawless soldiers, the kind of warrior that showed no concern for its life, no moral compunctions, and no hesitation.

Mindless, they would have crashed like a wave against Qrow and died.

Now, the Ursa were forcing Qrow away from the house taking long turns and sacrificing their brethren or themselves when it was needed just to get a single swing in. There was a cruelty to the act that only cold, calculated malice could even out.

I had given Salem everything I could give her. I hadn't understood it then, but now I did.

I did understand, and I did see that as the window shattered, Qrow's neck moved sharply to the source of the noise, his eyes wide. "No!"

The girls' screams—it was their room, wasn't it—weren't difficult to hear, but their terror was. Their terror, and that of their father who was barely a room behind them, a single room that he could cross easily. He did so, I felt his terror, and his fear, and yet I also saw the Beowolf that had lunged inside throw something out with both of its claws. I stared with wide disbelieving eyes at the small kid that was flying in the air, and my heart lunged to my throat as I actually dashed forward with a howl, my body of darkness burning with effort as I actually lunged and with both of my claws managed to grab the silver-eyed kid before it could die due to its impact with the ground.

I rolled to a halt against a tree, "Ruby!" a voice cried out, "Qrow! Get her!" it was her father, and yet he couldn't pursue me because if he left his other daughter there, then the Beowolves still in the house would eat her alive. Beowolves who were howling in nearby rooms, but who weren't coming after him because if they did, then he'd kill them and be free. They were taking time, just as I would do so. Force them to halt in a spot, force them to care for the single weak link, and they will eventually waste precious time.

The small child was crying so hard it was deafening, my ears were hurt by the sheer amount of tears the infant was emitting. She was bawling, wearing a small pajama and a red wool blanket around her. I wanted nothing less than to drop her. Like, I wanted to simply drop her on the ground and run away. Salem wouldn't be pleased, but sue me, I hadn't signed up for this.

This could be the strongest message ever sent. Keep the kid protected or she'd risk death. Yes, I could do that. I just had to drop the kid. I just had to put the kid down, and then—then tentacles broke out from my neck, a glowing crimson portal lashing out as they twirled around the child and dragged her in faster than I could as much as cry out. With a guttural growl and a mixture of raucous howling and fangs tearing at my throat, the kid disappeared without a trace.

As the last of the Ursa fell, and Qrow rushed towards me, he arrived too late to stop the hail of dark feathers from a Nevermore that grabbed hold of me by my shoulders, dragging me as quickly as possible away while the last Beowolves roared as hard as they could from within the house. Qrow didn't pursue immediately, and that was his mistake. No, it was rather his grief that spread through my head that told me why he hadn't done so.

He believed the girl dead.

He didn't have the heart to tell it to Taiyang, but he had to ensure his last remaining niece didn't die. Yet his anger remained. I could feel it, even miles away, like a flame. His anger for the likes of a Grimm with white spikes, for a Beowolf taller than the others, and I felt his desire for revenge. Even if he had to reach the end of the world, he'd do so to find me, and kill me. He believed me similar to Salem, a creature born of nightmares, a creature of cruel malice and cold, calculating viciousness.

My only hope, as silly as it sounded after having been so thoroughly played by the likes of Salem, was for her to keep her side of the bargain.

Considering the Nevermore didn't drop me on my way back to her realm, there were two possibilities.

The first was that she hadn't kept her promise, and I had helped in child murder.

The second was that she had kept her promise, and I had helped in child kidnapping.

Both were horrible, and both made me angry at her, but mostly at myself. What kind of new set of chances can someone even think of in that situation? What kind of great cunning plan worthy of a fox can someone come up with when forced to pick between two horrible choices because there isn't a third one in sight?

As I stewed on the thoughts, my arms turned whiter from sharply edged tiny bone-like spikes that began to spread across my skin. My claws that had been white only along their back now turned completely white, calcifying as dark crimson veins began to form over them.

I didn't like this one bit.

The process stopped though, and as it did so did I end up having to wait until I was back, this time the Nevermore was flying quite faster than before and covered the distance in less time. No, it was more like it had been instructed to go deliberately slower during the trip forth, and then was now going at its normal speed.

Salem had thought it all through, and hadn't said a word, of course.

Why would she?

I wasn't her ally, nor her friend.

"Welcome home," Salem said, her hands clasped in front of her as she dared give me what amounted to a smile. I landed on the ground a brief distance away from her, and yet as I rushed forth the ground cracked under my steps. I had grown. Without realizing it, I had grown. I wasn't twice Salem's size any longer. I was now easily three times her size. Yet for all of the strength that I had in my limbs, I couldn't as much as muster the strength to lash out at her.

"Where is she?" I snarled back, the anger that bubbled in my chest reduced to a simpering query, a kind of weak-willed sound that I wouldn't have made in another occasion, and that yet came out as such.

"She is currently in her rooms, resting from the ordeal," Salem replied.

"If you hurt her," I hissed out as I tried to step past her, only for my body to do its best in order to avoid hurting her. I ended up shattering the side of the tower's door in order to break in without touching Salem. "I'll break everything I can get away with breaking. Including the train of your dress."

"That would be unwise," Salem acquiesced. "You will find I have kept my word. She is resting on the upper floor, near the tower. You may see her at your leisure."

I rushed past her, fast enough that I didn't care about hearing the rest of her words.

Salem wasn't a foe to underestimate, and yet I could do nothing but leave it to Ozpin. Anything I thought of was already out of the window by sheer principle of belonging to the same network that was tied to Salem's mind. I was an observer at best, a hindrance at worst.

Whatever sin I had committed to end up like this, I am sorry for it, and I will gladly pay ten thousand times the price, but innocents shouldn't suffer because of me.

Please, let this be the end of evil's triumph.

Please, let the heroes come in and save the day.

The small red blanket wasn't shivering, but it was positively miserable. To my senses, Ruby could just as well have shown her face, since I could feel the grief and the sadness emanate from her frame with such intensity that it was difficult to merely ignore them. Her tears had run dry, but she wasn't moving from her spot anyway. Food was resting at the feet of her bed, which was a nice and big thing with velvet covers inside an equally large and magnificent room that would have been the envy of Queens. To the little girl doing her hardest to stay as still as possible, it was overbearingly terrifying.

She was alive however. She was alive, and while hungry, without a hair out of place. Her terror came off in waves like a freshly baked chocolate pie though. It was perhaps the fact that she had heard the door open, and was terrified. She was scared, but she was also hungry. She wanted it all to be a bad dream.

"I am sorry," I rasped out as I stopped a short distance away from her.

There was no reply. Of course, this kid didn't know a lot of words. Even if she did, she was too scared of the big bad form that lurked beyond her blanket to dare look at it. In her childishness, if she didn't see the monster, then the monster didn't see her either. "I had no choice," I added next, but the kid didn't really understand. She couldn't understand. She wanted to go back home to her father, her mother and her big sister. Even the smelly man that was her uncle was better than this place. She wanted to be held by her family, given a big, warm hug and a platter of cookies and milk.

There were no cookies in the meal left to cool at the bottom of her feet. It was, honestly, the kind of meal you'd expect out of a decadent catering service. Over-boiled half-smashed rice with peas and chunks of what I hoped was ham and a gruel-like soup with a spoon inside it. It could also be poisonous, all things considered.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, receiving no reply from the red blanket. She was resolutely keeping her silent, knowing that if she said nothing then I'd eventually leave just like the strange lady who had scary eyes.

"Your father's Taiyang," I said, and that got a reaction, mostly, a tiny bit of fear left her. "He's really strong," I added. "He'll come save you. Your mother will come too," I continued.

"Mom..." Ruby whimpered.

"I am Shade," I said, latching on to that single word. "I was a friend of your mother."

Ruby's fear abated slightly. If I was a friend of her mother, then I couldn't be a bad person. The moment she peeked out from beneath the covers to look at me, however, she screamed shrilly and hid once more beneath her blanket, pushing herself as far back as she could while fearful images of giant wolves eating her alive flowed from her body.

I waited. I waited really, really patiently for her to stop screaming and simpering and crying. Her body was tired, she was hungry, and she was also quite fussy. My ears were drumming from the screaming, and yet I waited until she was done. Wasn't that what one was supposed to do when a child was doing a tantrum? Let them fall flat on the ground if they so wished and wait for them to understand that crying wouldn't get them anywhere? I vaguely remembered there were some suggestions of the sort, but then again, every suggestion had its detractors and people in favor, so much so that there wasn't a fixed guidelines for things like How to deal with a kidnapped young child who is terrorized of your form.

Once she finished crying, I could feel her fear, and the pain in her sore throat. She was thirsty, and hungry, and she wanted to use whatever bathroom there was but was so scared she didn't even want to move.

"I won't eat you," I said with a low rumbling voice. "I pinky promise."

Ruby sniffled, "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear," I replied. "There is food here," I added. "And I can show you...the bathroom."

Ruby hesitantly shifted her red blanket to gaze at me, and while fear still came out in waves, she waited. She waited as if afraid I'd eat her, and then waited some more just to make sure I wouldn't actually eat her, and then decided to trust the fact I wouldn't eat her because she'd taste terrible, and finally settled on being hungry, thirsty and wanting a bathroom break.

I gingerly stepped slightly back as she dropped down from the bed onto the floor. She wasn't barefooted, but had a pair of bunny slippers that looked positively saccharine. I inched backwards as she took a couple of hesitant steps. She knew how to walk, but she still needed to be careful about it. She didn't want to fall down, because Yang wasn't there to catch her. I looked at her, and extended very slowly one of my arms while keeping it on the ground. Ruby's eyes widened at it, but I stopped it as one of my elongated claws tapped on the platter in front of her. "Water," I said, pointing at the glass.

It was awkwardly cute how she fumbled with the glass with both hands, since her fingers were too small to grab hold of it properly. "Slowly," I grumbled as she nearly choked on the water. "No one will steal it from you."

She took a few bites out of the soup, and the rice, and then looked up at me expectantly. I looked down at her. She really was tiny, especially when compared to me.

"Bathroom," she whined, fidgeting uncomfortably.

It didn't take me long to bring her there, mostly because she actually accepted the deal of staying on the back of my right claw. A couple of doors would need to be rebuilt slightly bigger, but it was Salem's problem, not mine.

Once her basic necessities were done with, I brought her back into her rooms. Her form was all soft and cute, a tiny bundle of flesh that breathed evenly as her silver eyes were hidden by her eyelids. She had fallen asleep on the way back from the bathroom, the last vestiges of her fear having left the place to tiredness. I nudged her carefully with the back of my fingers onto the bed, and delicately pinched the sheets to cover her up.

With a huff of pride for my flawless execution of such a delicate task, I tiptoed out of the room and closed the door with a soft thud.

Salem was waiting for me outside, her arms clasped as always in front of her. I stared down at her, my eyes ablaze.

"I have no further use for her," she said nonchalantly. "As long as she remains within the proximity of the palace, or within yours, you are free to do with her as you wish."

"Because you'd know what to do otherwise?" I growled.

"The Grimm will not attack her," Salem replied without inflection in her voice.

"The food," I said, eyeing her, "How did you get it?"

Salem stared at me, and then nodded once. "I did send out letters for it, since my pantry was empty," she spoke. "I have...allies who are allowed a certain degree of freedom in my lands, and are protected from the Grimm. In exchange, they are able to steal or pillage in quite the dangerous places." She eyed me, her eyes burning softly. "They must merely never procreate."

"Playing the long game on some humans?" I drawled. "Why not all of them?"

"Perhaps, once they have been reduced to acceptable levels, I might," Salem answered. "Until then, they must be dealt with."

"You fear humans," I said abruptly, "When they stand united, you are scared of them."

"Indeed," Salem nodded. "Divided, however, they are weak. Though perhaps I can tell you this, and allow you to make of it what you wish. There is no grandiose plan beyond the extermination of humanity. There never has been, nor will there ever be anything else. It is not anger, or hatred, or revenge," she turned her back on me. "It merely is a state of being, a task which has been entrusted to us. Until the last human dies, the last faunus exhales his last breath, we will exist. We will hunt. We will kill."

"Doesn't it ever get boring to be the big bad evil guy with no redeemable qualities?" I hissed out.

"Doesn't it ever get boring to be the one guy who has to shoulder every weight, because he mistrusts others to pull their own?" she replied quite calmly.

"Hunters can kill you, Salem, or you would not fear them," I spoke. "Isn't that true?"

Salem emitted a single chuckle. "Hunters already killed me, Shade," she replied, her eyes burning with fire as she turned her neck to stare at me one last time, "Death doesn't stick to us Grimm however. Not like it does to humans," she turned her head forward, and resumed her slow, steady and yet unyielding walk away from me.

"That's a lie!" I snapped at her retreating back, "Or there'd be—"

"No hope for mankind?" Salem eerily whispered, and yet the whisper reached my ears as if she had been whispering it right behind me. "That is the point, Shade. There is no hope to defeat the Grimm. Ozpin lies."

"Or maybe you do," I retorted, but Salem was already out of my sight, and so too did no whisper come back in reply.

I decided there and then what the best course of action would be.

I had to train the cute little kid that could barely walk and eat on her own into an engine of mass Grimm Destruction.

Then, I had to hope that whatever plan Ozpin had set in motion didn't really require Ruby to complete it.

And finally, I had to hope that whatever Monty Oum had thought for this world and its future would hold true and grant a sort-of happy ending.

I could do this.

How hard could it be to babysit a child in the middle of Grimm-territory?

Sufficient Velocity

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User Fiction

Grimm Life (RWBY SI)

Thread startershadenight123 Start dateMar 11, 2017 Tagseverything will be fine grimm rwby shade is fluff shade is love shadenight123

Do you think Shade should stop writing new stuff and get to finish what he's started?

Of course not.

Votes: 66 4.0%

Nope!

Votes: 14 0.8%

I must vehemently disagree!

Votes: 16 1.0%

I like trains.

Votes: 551 33.4%

We know where this is going, but we can't stop looking.

Votes: 357 21.6%

I like trainwrecks.

Votes: 236 14.3%

This will be fluffy, so everything will be fine.

Votes: 411 24.9%

Total voters 1,651

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StellarMonarch

Mar 15, 2017

#51

I can already feel the future angst. :cry:

Good writing as always, shade.

Last edited: Mar 15, 2017

Heavy READER

Book Devourer/Speed Reader

Mar 15, 2017

#52

So Grimm grow by feeling anger/hatred...

Last edited: Mar 15, 2017

Funny

Ars Poetica

ULTIMA RATIO NEMO OBLIGATUR

PronounsHe / Him / His

Mar 15, 2017

#53

Heavy READER said:

So Grimm grow by felling anger/hatred...

Broken image is broken, friend.

Meow

Ryven Razgriz

I need a Gun and I'll let you know 'What's up?'.

Mar 15, 2017

#54

There will be no Heroes Shade, all there is would be the murdered and the murderer. And the better part is that your the murderer.

Hugs

shadowriter132

The Hunter of Good Reads

Mar 15, 2017

#55

Quick he is sad he needs more hugs!!!!!:grin:grin:

shadowriter132

The Hunter of Good Reads

Mar 15, 2017

#56

Wait is this Shade one that has written his other stories? Because if so then he can cause so many headaches with his logic and reasoning, he can also try and use the efforts of his past to try and get some abilities he had in other stories. That would be awesome.

Image

Mar 15, 2017

#57

Hun. So ruby the character is dead. That's a twist. It's highly unlikely that even should she live that she'll be the Ruby of the show. And thus the savior.

Last edited: Mar 15, 2017

shadowriter132

The Hunter of Good Reads

Mar 15, 2017

#58

Image said:

Hun. So ruby the character is dead. That's a twist. It's highly unlikely that even should she live that she'll be the Ruby of the show. And thus the savior.

True, but she will most likely either grow up with shade and Salem and then as he tries to stay true to canon he will try to get her to be much more like the original or try to teach her many things if Salem doesn't 'forget' to feed her.

Informative

LastStandZiggy

Last To Fall

Mar 16, 2017

#59

Spoiler: Future Ruby, raised by a Grimm, a wildling

Malbutorius

C'est le bien qui fait mal

Mar 16, 2017

#60

Calling it now. Ruby is Grimmborn, the mythical Human with the never before seen Semblance of "Grimm Like Me".

Congrats Shade, you're a father. Whether you want to or not. Better hope Salem doesn't get interested in being motherly.

Funny

Threadmarks Chapter Six

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shadenight123

Ten books I have published. More await!

Moderator

Mar 16, 2017

#61

Chapter Six