Miss me?
Yep, I'm back in the saddle, and writing again. So after so long without a peep, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 52: Fugitive
Trudging through the woods, the moon hidden behind an intense layer of clouds and fog, I continued walking. The fog was so thick, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. But nevertheless, I kept on walking, desperate for shelter.
*Awoooooooo...*
Whirling around, I readied a cannon and aimed at the direction of the noise, not wanting to be taken by surprise. Minutes of silence passed, until finally, I became satisfied of the creature's disappearance. Holstering the cannon away, I turned back to my path, and came face to face with a cave, which had somehow materialized when I wasn't looking. More confused than relieved, I gingerly edged my way into the hollow, which was black as pitch, and cold as ice.
Edging ever further into the inky blackness, I only became aware of a female voice screaming for help, the noise echoing through the tunnel. My heart started pounding faster, and I took off running further into the cave, hoping to find whoever needed help, disregarding the fact that I was without any source of light.
As I ran, the screams grew more panicked, increasing in intensity, as whoever made the noise descended ever further into hysterics. My sides burned, but I didn't stop running. Finally, the tunnel widened, and opened up into a massive cavern, lit up by glowing crystals of various shapes and sizes. In the center of the massive subterranean space was a ruined building, looking much like a castle, one which had suffered a calamitous assault. The voice screamed again, sounding as though it came from the tallest tower of the fortress. Tapping the nozzles on my backpack, I took off, hoping to save whoever was in trouble.
The journey to the tower felt like an eternity, as the the closer I flew, the further the tower seemed to get. Shrugging this off, I continued to fly, even as I felt my Aura drain from overuse. Finally, as I felt like I was about to give out, I grasped at the edge of the tower's ramparts, and not a moment too soon. My thrusters sputtered and died, causing me to hang from the stonework by my fingertips. With a growl of effort, I hoisted myself up, and looked around.
There was no girl anywhere. There was only a figure, hunched over in the center of the tower, a black cloak draped over their shoulders. I approached the figure wondering what was going on. But as I was about to place my hand on the figure's shoulder, they turned their head so swiftly, I never saw them move. As I withdrew my hand in shock, the figure vanished, their cloak floating to the floor.
"so tRUstInG. sO nAivE."
Looking around for the source of the voice, the figure appeared before me. As I finally got a good look at the figure, I immediately recognized it.
It was me. And yet, at the same time, it wasn't me.
The thing before me was a perfect copy of me. But instead of the sky blue eyes that I possessed, this creature's eyes were blood red, and the whites were a tar-like black. From the eyes, black veins spiderwebbed across the creature's face. Their skin was white as snow, as was their hair. The figure, my "evil twin" sneered maliciously.
"SucH A fOOlish CHiLd. yOu plaY aT bEIng a HerO, bUt You ARE noThiNg MoRE ThaN a LaPdog."
The figure strode closer, causing me to back away in fright. Instinctively, I readied a cannon on my shoulder, and began to fire, squeezing off three shots before my Aura drained again. But the figure simply raised their hand, and caught the blasts, before nonchalantly redirecting the accumulated energy back at me. The resulting explosion knocked me off of my feet, and caused me to slam into the ramparts. I tried to shake off the dazedness, even as this... thing... grew closer.
"alL OF yoUR mISTAKES, YoUr FAiLureS... TheY ARE A tEstAMEnt to ThE DarKnESs WIThIn yoUr SOUl. a teStAMEnt To Me."
As I felt the dizziness fade away, I launched a punch at my double. But it was caught easily, and the creature wrenched my arm to the side, causing a horrific snapping sound as the bones within splintered apart. As I let out a scream of agony, the double gripped my neck, and held me over the edge of the tower.
"iF yoUr SpIriT caN bE BRoken as eAsily aS YOUr bONES, thEn hOW Do yOu THINK YoU CAn DefEAT Me?"
The creature holding me aloft raised it's free hand, and plunged it into my chest, causing a spray of liquid to paint their snow-white skin a deep crimson, and inflicting an excrutiating amount of pain unto me. Then, it yanked the hand in my chest free, the clenched fist soaked in offal, and a dull, blue glow emanating from the gaps between its fingers. As it looked to the glowing fist, it grinned evilly.
"YOu Are weAk."
The creature turned it's attention back to me, as I felt my body grow ever colder.
"YoU ARe pAtHETiC."
With a simple flick of its hand, the one wrapped around my neck, I felt the bones within dislocate, and my vision grew darker. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the figure release its hold on my broken body, causing me to fall limply from the tower, as it looked to me with that same evil smile.
"anD yOU CAn neVeR EScApE Me."
My eyes snapped open. That same damnable nightmare. Every night, for the past few weeks. Ever since the Fall of Beacon six weeks ago, I hadn't had a moment of peaceful slumber. Sitting up in my sleeping bag, I wiggled my way out of the nylon cocoon, and pushed the tent flaps back, revealing the gleaming landscape underneath the night sky. A snow-covered clearing on the edge of a forest, with a lake, which was currently iced over, save for a small hole which I had cut to collect water and curious fish. The winter season was fast approaching, but to me, it had arrived prematurely, forcing out autumn, and clenched the world with a unrelenting grip, as the air had attained a biting cold, and heavy layers of snowfall had engulfed the forest floor in a single night.
Sighing, I trudged to the glowing embers that were the remains of my campfire, and dunked a cup into a bowl of slop hanging from a makeshift truss, suspended over the crackling embers. The stew was cold, and unappetizing, but I forced it down with a shudder. Setting the cup down on a stump, I took a seat, and opened my Scroll to look at the surrounding areas.
There were a few small settlements some kilometers away. Farming or fishing villages, most likely. Short of the odd Huntsman or Huntress stopping in to either procure some supplies or assist in clearing out the occasional Grimm incursion or marauder raid, they wouldn't pose too much of a threat. But the more concerning landmark was a large bandit camp to the south. Being captured by them was not a desirable outcome. But my apprehension to them was not out of selfish self-preservation.
I had been captured four times by bandit tribes looking to grab a quick and easy payday for my capture. But every time, the Grimm had swarmed their campsites, killing all the occupants, and destroying any sign of habitation. Ordinarily, one would chalk that up to the despair I had felt, the feeling of my doom drawing ever closer. But there was one flaw with that theory. Whenever the Grimm attacked, while they slaughtered everybody else, they chose only to destroy my bindings, drop my Basilisk's Spirit at my feet, and retreat into the wilderness, leaving me unharmed. Why would the Grimm spare me, when my heart was filled to bursting with self-loathing and despair? I would be the perfect magnet for them, and yet, they never chose to harm me.
It was as if... someone was controlling them. Telling them not to hurt me.
But who?
And more importantly, why?
*RATATATTLE*
Looking up and channeling some Aura into my gauntlet, I slowly got to my feet, grateful that I had set that tin can alarm. It wasn't much, but it had saved my life numerous times, alerting me of incoming threats. Edging cautiously towards the source of the noise, I parted the brush with my bare arm to find...
Nothing but a series of bootprints, proving that the intruder was not a Grimm. Bizarrely, there was a trail leading into the tripwire, but no prints that indicated whoever had set off the alarm had moved away. Curious. Keeping my guard up, just in case I was dealing with someone who had the Semblance of flight, or invisibility, I reset the trap, and slowly made my way back to the camp.
But when I reached my campfire, I saw a bird, black as pitch and with eyes glowing like rubies in a dark mine, pecking at my discarded bowl of stew. Normally, I would let the bird have the food, on account of how bad it tasted, but my own stock was running low, and hunting never yielded much in the way of spoils.
"Hey!" I yelled, hoping to scare the bird away. But instead, it looked up from the dish, and let out a caw, as if it was taunting me. I charged, but didn't get more than two steps before my foot snagged on an unearthed tree root, hidden beneath the slush, and I fell face first into the snow. Looking up from my impromptu snow angel, I wiped the cold powder away from my eyes to see that the bird had gone. But in its place was a man I had only seen twice, yet would instantly recognize, mainly because the stench of alcohol was glued to him.
Qrow.
"Sorry, kid. Haven't eaten in ages, and when I get hungry, I don't get picky." He drawled, taking a sip from the bowl. Pulling myself up, I brushed the snow on my torso off, the cold prickling at my exposed skin.
"My apologies, but we're out of filet mignon and my personal chef has gone on an extended holiday." I drawled, striding past the man towards the iced over lake. Qrow chuckled, and put down the nearly empty bowl of slop.
"You know, the pipsqueak's really worried about y-"
"Well, she needn't be." I retorted, keeping my eyes focused on the glossy ice that reflected the night sky above. Qrow sighed.
"Are you still blaming yourself for Beacon? I told you already, you weren't responsible." He stated. Fingering through the layers of snow, I grasped at a stone, and began to fiddle with it between my fingers.
"Yeah, and you also told me that the records that prove my poisoning were scrubbed. What trial would accept 'I was drugged and made a sleeper agent' as a credible defense?" I replied bitterly. Qrow crouched down beside me, and looked to the lake.
"Well, stranger things have happened. Just don't give up because the enemy has a good hand." He proffered. I looked to him incredulously.
"'A good hand'? Ozpin is dead, Beacon is Grimm Central Station, Cinder has the full power of the Fall Maiden, and the world thinks I'm responsible for all of this. If that's your idea of a 'good hand', I'd hate to see a great one." I ranted, fingers clenching even tighter around the stone in my hands. Qrow sighed, and took a sip from his hip flask.
"Kid, you clearly haven't lived long if you think this is as bad as it could get. We've been through worse, and we'll go through worse again. That's the cycle of things." He explained. I just got to my feet, and hurled the stone at the frozen water. It bounced twice, and skidded to a halt at the shore on the far side.
"That's a stupid cycle." I spat.
"No, that's just reality." Qrow countered. I didn't bother responding; I had neither the desire, nor the energy to. So with a sigh, I trudged through the snowdrifts back to the campsite.
"Hey."
Qrow spoke again, but I didn't turn around, choosing instead to focus on dismantling the cooking spit over the dying fire.
"I gotta watch over the pipsqueak and her pals... but just know that our group is always looking out for ya. So if you need a hand... we're just a holler away." Qrow stated. I didn't respond, not even as I heard the fluttering of wings, rather than the crunch of snow underfoot, along with a bird's caw fading into the night. I paid it no mind, until I remembered something.
It would soon be winter, and most of the birds in the area had already taken wing to warmer climates.
Looking back to where Qrow once was, I saw only a single black feather fluttering to the snow, its owner vanishing into the night sky. Puzzled at this ability that Qrow appeared to possess, I absentmindedly picked up the feather, and placed it between the pages of Adam's diary.
The weeks turned into months. Winter passed, as did spring. Now it was summer. But despite the pleasant breeze and the peaceful sounds of nature, I wasn't able to sleep. So instead of curling up in my sleeping bag for yet another restless night, I had taken to poking at the dregs of my campfire with a stick, wishing that I would fall asleep then and there. And yet, at the same time, I prayed that I wouldn't.
Normally, I'd welcome periods of slumber, no matter how brief they were, but now... I dreaded them. Because every time I closed my eyes, I would plunge back into that nightmare with my accursed doppelgänger. They'd mutilate me, belittle me, tear me down in a hundred different ways... and the worst part about it wasn't that I couldn't awaken prematurely from the horror.
The worst part was that everything that he said was true.
Because I had been so trusting, I naïvely helped Cinder accomplish her goal, trusting her only because she said that I could be sent home, something Kimba never promised.
Pyrrha was dead because I wasn't strong enough to help her. Because of my weakness, her destiny was realized as a cloud of ash from Cinder's arrow.
But the harshest truth of all was the doppelgänger's final words to me.
I would never be able to escape the consequences of my actions. No matter where I would try to run, the past and its demons would haunt me. No matter where I would go, the world saw fit to remind me of the blood on my hands. From outdated news reports, to yellowed wanted posters, to silent ambushes and secret attacks… I would always be reminded of my status as the Butcher of Beacon, the Vanquisher of Vale, the Adversary of Amity.
Having come under attack countless times, I had needed to change my combat gear. I still wore the dark gold undershirt, but it was looking all the worse for wear. With an array of slashes and holes having pierced the fabric numerous times, it appeared to look like a disused rag. Overlaying this was a short cloak with a hood, which draped over my upper left arm, leaving my left forearm bare, except for the mount for my Scroll. My other arm was coated in metal: because I had been caught unawares numerous times during my exile, I'd decided that it was better to leave one cannon mounted on my arm at all times. This got me a few confused looks whenever I dared to enter a settlement, but nobody commented on it. My trousers and boots were also looking ragged and tatty, but they still allowed me to move freely. To further conceal my identity, I'd also donned a bandana, tied around my neck, to cover my face whenever it was necessary.
"So this is where you've been hiding."
Whirling around, I raised my metal-covered arm, ready to fire at the one who had spoken. A cloaked figure, leaning against a tree, her arms folded underneath her robes.
It only took a moment for me to register that it was Kimba.
"You expected a five star resort?" I deadpanned. Kimba said nothing, only striding forwards and sitting on a stump around the smouldering campfire.
"Darrel… I am so, so sorry for everything. I should have anticipated that that accursed toxin wouldn't sto–"
I held up a hand.
"Save it. I don't want to hear an apology. All I want is to disappear." I droned. Kimba sighed and looked away.
"Darrel, you can't stay in the wilderness forever. People will find you, if not the Grimm–"
"I know. And as soon as someone comes hunting, I'll pack up and go."
"Go where?"
"Who knows? Who cares? Wherever mapmakers don't dare to tread, I guess. What does it matter?"
"You can't just run."
"What choice do I have? They have footage, witnesses, and a fifty million Lien price on my head. Hunters will come for me for the 'good of humanity', bandits will come for me for the reward money, and the Grimm will come for me no matter what. Running is the only chance I have at surviving. But with everything I've done, what does it matter?" I groaned, gripping a handful of dirt, and throwing it on the embers, snuffing the flame. Getting to my feet, I trudged over to the lake, and sat by the bank.
"It matters a lot, because I brought you here to stop the Reckoning."
"And I failed. I couldn't stop Adam, I couldn't stop Torchwick, and I couldn't stop Cinder. Turns out I'm not your promised warrior. You may as well just send me back home." I said bitterly, my eyes never looking away from the icy water as I fiddled with a stone.
"I… I can't."
Turning to look at Kimba, I gave her a confused look.
"You don't have any more Silver Dust? Can't you get some more?"
"Even if I could, I still wouldn't be able to send you back home."
My eyes narrowed. I was starting to not like where this conversation was going. Kimba walked over and took a seat beside me.
"You see, if I were to send you back to Earth, you'd just bounce back after an hour or so. When a being traverses the cosmos via Silver Dust, only the soul can survive the journey. Transporting both the body and soul requires a enormous amount of energy, something that isn't attainable with any form of Dust."
"What are you saying?"
"You remember how you were brought to Remnant? How you were swept out to sea? The crystal I gave you on the shore was the Fragment of Arcadia, shrouded in the last vial of Silver Dust on Earth. By using that last speck of Silver Dust, your soul was ripped from your body, and brought to Remnant. And without a soul… your body ceased to function, tangled in kelp until…" Kimba trailed off, a catch in her voice.
"You mean—?"
"Yes. To Earth, Darrel Conway was swept out to sea in the midst of a storm, and drowned."
"Does my family really know what happened to me?" I asked. Kimba refused to meet my gaze.
That told me everything.
"You lied to me." I snarled, uncontainable rage beginning to boil over.
"Yes, but not without-" Kimba never finished, as my armoured fist sent her flying into the woods. She slammed against a tree, and landed in a heap. As she recovered, I stormed towards her, my Aura beginning to spike. As I began to burn with furious energy, I gripped her by the throat, holding her clear off the ground. She struggled against my hand, trying to pry herself loose.
"Please… l-let me explain…" she gurgled, struggling to breathe beyond my vice-like grip.
"You've had the chance to explain a thousand times already. But now… I'm done listening." I growled, squeezing her neck tighter. Even though I felt nothing but murderous rage, I wasn't showing it.
"D-Darrel… you're… not a… killer…" Kimba spluttered.
"Then what am I? A puppet? A decoy? A hero? A villain? Tell me!" I hissed, feeling Kimba's struggles grow weaker. She tried to speak, but all that came out was incoherent gasps.
"You brought me here, with no way home, and you ordered me to save the world. But now everyone thinks I'm here to destroy it. So what am I supposed to do?!" I snarled.
"Well, you could put her down, for a start."
Not releasing my hold on Kimba's throat, I whirled around, my other cannon clicking into place, ready to fire at the intruding voice. Out of the darkness stepped a figure clad in a familiar orange robe, with a bandaged face I could easily recognize.
Professor Kor.
"Incredible how such a series of circumstances can decide a man's fate." He said, no emotion in his voice. I kept my cannon trained on him: even though he was my teacher once, I had no reason to trust anybody, not even the people I once called "allies".
"What do you want, Kor?" I spat. Kor just sighed, and looked to me.
"All I want is for you to listen to us. We only want to help you." Kor soothed. A few tense moments passed, before I released my grip on Kimba's throat. As she fell to her hands and knees, coughing and wheezing while she tried to inhale as much air as she could, I retracted my cannons, and stowed them away.
"Make it quick." I stated, pushing past Kor and marching back to the campsite, not wanting to waste any more time. As I began to pull the tent apart, Kor began to talk.
"Darrel, we understand that you have every right to be angry. At us, at Cinder, at everyone. But simply spending the rest of your life in the wilds of this world, brimming with hatred, is not the solution." Kor stated. I looked up.
"Well, what else can I do?! Earth thinks I'm dead, Remnant wants me dead, and with what little I know about this world, I'm probably going to end up dead by the end of the year! So what should I do?!" I spat. Kimba walked up beside Kor, still massaging her throat.
"For a start, you could set a course for Haven Academy in Mistral." She proffered hoarsely. I looked up from the jumble of cloth and poles at Kimba incredulously. I'd heard stories about that place. Mistral had the biggest black market on Remnant, and the information as to my whereabouts was likely at the top of every thief, murderer, and assassin's wishlist. People went there to disappear, but with my notoriety, that would be impossible.
"Mistral? You can't be serious, Kimba. A bounty on my head this big will be like a beac—" I paused, only just becoming aware of my poor choice of words. I sighed, and spoke again.
"…like a magnet to every combat-capable warrior in the area." I finished, looking back to the tent. Kor strode forward, and knelt down beside me.
"Regardless, you need to go there. Beacon is certainly not going to be the last battle in this war of ours."
"Like it matters. That damn toxin will just convert me again." I countered. Kimba strode up, and grabbed one of my arms, holding it in a firm grip. A flash of stainless steel, and I felt a needle plunge into my arm, extracting some crimson blood. As I let out a hiss of pain, Kimba withdrew the syringe, and began to scan it with her Scroll. She looked to the results, and her eyes lit up.
"Well, well, well... it seems that surge of rage you exhibited against Taurus has solved that particular problem. There's no trace of the chemical in your body. Perhaps your little tantrum purged that drug from your system. But regardless of how it happened, your mind is all your own." Kimba said. I just scoffed.
"You'll excuse me if I don't take your word, Kimba. After all, you've lied to me in the past." I retorted, finally separating the canvas of the tent from the support poles. Kimba sighed audibly, placing her Scroll and the syringe in the folds of her robe, and stepping forward.
"If you're referring to that note I left you after utilizing Silver Dust, that was a lapse in judgement on my part. I should have told you the truth a long time ago, but I feared how you would process such a revelation. You have every right to blame me." Kimba stated, a tone of regret in her voice. Looking up from the jumbled pile of poles and cloth, I got to my feet, looking at Kimba angrily.
"And not just then, but against the Wahtani! You said you'd always help me, but back then I asked for help, and you abandoned me!" I accused. Kimba's look morphed from pensive to serious at this.
"While it is my job to ensure your safety, I couldn't intervene without drawing attention to myself. Had your friends spotted me, they would undoubtedly ask questions. Questions that could not be answered without revealing our agenda." She retorted. I was about to respond, but Kor stepped forward before I could do so.
"Enough! This argument achieves nothing."
Both Kimba and I looked to Kor.
"Darrel, you must understand that despite the appearance of our actions, your safety is our highest priority, especially now more than ever. But we can only protect you if you help us in our fight." The professor said gently. I just sighed, and felt my anger drain away.
"I… I appreciate that, truly. But…" I paused.
"But…?" Kimba asked. I just turned away, and took a seat beside an upturned boulder, close to the riverbank.
"I don't know. It's just… I don't feel like I can do this anymore. What little I knew about Remnant when I first came here… it made me feel confident that I could meet any challenge that appeared. Especially because I knew what was coming. But now… now that I've seen who you're fighting against, and I don't know how things will unfold… I'm scared." I trailed off, ashamed of what Kimba and Kor would think. Their chosen warrior, out of his mind with fear of the unknown. But to my surprise, Kimba gently rested her hand on my shoulder. I looked up to her, and saw that she was smiling ever so slightly.
"You needn't worry, Darrel. Fear is a natural reaction for mankind, one that every warrior must push through and accept in order to grow stronger." She breathed. Shrugging my shoulder to free it from Kimba's grasp, I looked back to the lake.
"But… how do I–"
"By simply remembering that no matter how dire the situation may become… your allies – us, your friends, whoever it may be – will be there to protect you." Kor spoke warmly.
I didn't respond, only choosing to continue staring at the lake.
"I'll leave you be for now, Darrel. But please remember – our fight will not cease because you have hidden away." Kor stated. I didn't hear him go, but I knew, instinctively, that he had left. But Kimba stayed, taking a seat beside me.
"Darrel… I know that you have every right to hate me for keeping the truth from you, but… please, allow me to–"
"Why?"
Kimba paused.
"What?"
"Why did you lie to me?" I asked, bringing my knees to my chin. Kimba exhaled, and looked away.
"I could give you a thousand different reasons, but... the truth of the matter is... it was simply a lapse in judgement." Kimba answered.
"Oh, a lapse in judgement. I couldn't've guessed that." I drawled sarcastically.
"Darrel, please. Can you honestly say that you were happier at home?" Kimba asked, her voice wavering slightly. I looked to her, partly in indignation, partly in confusion.
"W-well, of course I was! I mean, I had my dad, my brother... I had... um..." I trailed off, doubting my own answer the more I talked. Kimba looked me dead in the eye.
"Are you sure? Back on Earth, you had no friends, a dysfunctional family, and a wish to live another life in a world of adventure. Am I wrong?" Kimba asked. I tried to think of a counterargument, but it was fruitless; Kimba was right. Back on Earth, I breathed and bled... but I wasn't truly alive. Before I came to Remnant, I was just an emotionless zombie, trudging through day after day, wishing for some sort of escape. My time on Earth wasn't living. It was simply... existing. But meeting Ruby, Yang, Jaune, and everyone else in the flesh was the first time in a long time where I felt... alive.
Being on Remnant gave me a reason to keep going beyond simple human biology. Remnant had given me everything Earth hadn't. Friends... adventure... but most importantly... a reason and a will to live.
"I... no. You're right." I conceded with a choked sigh. Kimba placed her arm over my shoulder, and drew me into a hug.
"I regret lying to you about your father. Truly, I do. But I was afraid of the conclusions you would come to if you ever wanted to return to Earth." Kimba explained. Thinking about what she had told me, it began to make sense.
If I wanted to go home, my soul would need a body to inhabit. All this time, my Terran body had been dead. And if I had wanted to leave Remnant without Silver Dust... I would need my Remnant body to die. A soul left without a body on either end of the cosmos... I'd only be transported to Arcadia, and placed in a realm where I couldn't escape from, whether I wanted to or not.
If I died, all of Kimba's hopes of stopping the Reckoning would be dashed.
It all makes sense.
"It all makes sense."
The sudden voice startled me, and I pulled away, falling in a heap onto the riverbank. While I got to my feet, Kimba looked to her robe, and pulled out her Scroll, beginning to tap out a response to my words. Showing me her screen, the message was sent with a push of a button, and the words on her device began to ring in my brain.
"Yes. I've made numerous modifications to your body, to help ensure your survival. Your healing capabilities, your strength, your agility... everything has been enhanced to help you survive. As for our... conversations, your brain has been fitted with a microchip, which translates your thoughts into words, and sends them to me as text. So whether I am near or far, I will always be with you."
Once the message had finished, Kimba placed her Scroll back into her robe, and looked to me. But she didn't say a word. She didn't need to. Because after hearing this... I knew that she would always protect me. In her own unique way.
"I understand." I exhaled. Kimba wrapped her arms around me in a gentle embrace, before pulling away.
"Thank you. Now, what are you going to do?" She asked. I looked back to the partially dismantled campsite, then back to the lake.
"I... I don't know. I get that you want me to go to Mistral, but–"
"All I ask is that you simply consider it. But remember this; there are no answers awaiting you in the wilds." Kimba interjected, before turning on her heel, and walking away. But before she disappeared into the trees, she gave me a look over her shoulder.
"If I know you, Darrel... I know that you've already made your choice." She called out, before vanishing into the woods. I watched her go, before turning back to the campsite, and resumed its disassembly. But for the first time in a long while, my heart was not filled with despair. Instead, all I felt...
was determination.
Because I knew what I needed to do.
Unfortunately, knowing what to do and knowing where to go were two different matters entirely.
Days had passed since my meetings with Kimba, and I had no idea which way was out of the woods, let alone which direction Mistral was in. There were no obvious landmarks, and most of my time was spent running from hordes of Grimm, which left little room for scanning the environment.
"Darrel Conway."
Raising my gauntleted arm, and hearing my other cannon click into place, I scanned the area for the source of the voice. It was female, and sounded formal. Too formal for a bandit. Which only meant one thing.
A Huntress.
"You are under arrest. Turn yourself in, and you will be shown leniency." The voice continued.
"Not gonna happen. I know what you think I did, but that wasn't me acting." I retorted, not dropping my guard for any reason.
"Regardless, I have orders to ensure your detainment. Please don't fight me on this." The voice replied.
"You're not taking me in!" I shouted. The voice didn't respond, but still, I kept my guard up.
"Show yourself!" I yelled, hoping that the Huntress still understood the concept of honour. To my surprise, they did, as a tall woman, with pale skin and white hair, tied up in a bun, with long bangs dangling from the right of their face, and a lock of hair to the left, stepped out of the brush. For trekking through the woods, they were woefully underdressed: a white coat, clasped with a red brooch, with parts of the upper sleeves removed, pants with built in garters, and black gloves. At their hip was a pair of handcuffs, and a saber, but her hands were held up, showing that she had no intention of drawing it. Despite this, I kept my cannon trained on her.
"Please, I mean no harm. Just come with me, and I promise you will be kept safe." She soothed. I just scoffed.
"Yeah, right. Safe for one hour, and then it's the execution chamber. Don't try to fool me." I spat, beginning to circle around the woman.
"I am not your enemy, Conway. I know you are innocent–"
"Oh really? Then why the sword? And the handcuffs?" I asked harshly. The woman sighed.
"I wish it didn't have to come to this..." She muttered, before charging towards me, drawing her saber in a flash of steel. Slicing at me, I just narrowly avoided her attack by leaping back. To buy myself some time, I fired at a tree nearby, seeing the trunk splinter in half, and causing it to tumble at the woman with a loud creaking noise. As she looked up to the falling obstacle, I took off running into the forest, hoping that the distraction would be enough. Vaulting over a fallen tree, rotted to time, I looked through a small gap between the dirt and the tree, seeing the woman slice the tree apart with her saber, along with a second blade. As the tree crashed to the ground in pieces, the woman looked to where I was standing before combat had commenced, and gave a frustrated groan.
"You can't hide from me, Darrel."
The woman raised her hand, and to my surprise, a familiar glyph, patterned with what resembled a snowflake, materialized behind her. It began to spin wildly, the snowflake blurring together to reveal a portal. Out of the portal stepped two creatures that resembled Beowolves. But instead of the jet black fur I was used to, these creatures were white as snow, and the red highlights on their bony faceplates were a soothing cyan.
The Beowolves sniffed the air, obviously trying to pinpoint my location. One snarled, and began to prowl to the log I was hiding under. Trying to still my breathing, I stayed low to the ground, and began to rub myself with dirt, in an attempt to mask my scent. The moments passed, each more agonizing than the last, as the Beowolves prowled the area, pawing at the earth.
"You needn't bother hiding. Cease wasting our time and reveal yourself. I promise you will not be harmed."
I rolled my eyes; I'd heard that before. People who hunted me always said they wouldn't hurt me. But the statement rang hollow when they had already drawn their weapons and opened fire.
"I am aware of the reward for your arrest, but that is not why I've sought you out. Money is of no interest to me."
Another lie. People only ever sought me out because they wanted the reward money, or because they wanted the glory of apprehending the Butcher of Beacon, Remnant's most dangerous criminal.
"Please. This is for your own sake. Let me help you."
What did she mean by that? How would capturing me be for my own good? Did she think I didn't know about what would happen when I'd be brought to trial? The verdict would be swift, and the execution even swifter.
No. Being arrested would only lead to my demise.
One of the glistening Beowolves began to let out a series of barks, and began to gallop towards my hiding place. I tried to stay calm, but the thudding footfalls trumped all attempts. Right as it was only a few meters away, I hoisted the log above my head, hearing the roots tear from the earth, and hurled it at the charging Beowolf. The heavy object slammed into the creature's midsection, and was sent flying away. I took off running, hearing the caber I had tossed smash into splinters, alone with a whine as the Beowolf beneath it expired.
"You're not gonna get me. You're not gonna get me!" I yelled back through the woods, not slowing for a second. The woman sighed.
"If that is how this must unfold, then so be it." She stated icily. I didn't look back, only continued to run. But I didn't get far, as something of immense weight slammed into the ground in front of me, knocking me on my ass. Looking up, I saw what appeared to be the torso of a beautiful female body, draped in flowing robes of silk. Her face stared blankly, and her arms were held at her sides, the sleeves of her silken robes billowing far beyond her arms.
But from the waist down was a more horrifying sight: a set of eight spindly legs, each ending in a barbed needle-sharp point, sectioned and coated in a blue patterned exoskeleton, connected to a bulbous orb, covered in spiny fur, dripping fangs and unblinking eyes. Behind that was an even larger orb, coated in layers of bony plating and spiky fur.
The creature let out an inhuman screech, yet the humanoid section of the monster never moved its lips. It raised its front two legs, and I barely had time to dive away, before the drider-like creature brought down one of the barbed tips, stabbing into the dirt. Readying a blade, I dodged more of the creature's stabs, and slashed at the joints on its legs, severing one of the talons, causing the leg it was once attached to to emit wisps of white smoke. It screeched in pain, and recoiled, allowing me to get up and run. The creature's exoskeleton let out a cacophony of cracks, letting me know that it was on the move again.
As I ran, I thought about the creature, visualising it in my head. The woman atop the creature's torso… maybe that was to serve as a lure, like a siren. The fluid leaking from the fangs… that had to mean it was capable of producing venom. And the eyes gave it a very wide field of vision. All that armour plating on the creature wouldn't allow me to strike easily from above or behind. I never got a good look at the creature's belly, but I had a hunch that if the creature had a weakness, that was where it would be.
I didn't get much further, as a sticky substance engulfed my feet, sending me sprawling to the forest floor. Before I could recover, the fresh bindings on my feet yanked me up into the air, where I came face to face with the humanoid part of the drider. The arachnid scuttled further into the trees, and began to produce more of its silk, wrapping it around my legs, preparing a cocoon.
Once upon a time, I would have been hysterical, thrashing about and screaming bloody murder, praying to a dozen different deities for deliverance. But that was a younger me. Months of living in the wilds, stewing in self-loathing, had hardened my nerves. Panicking would achieve nothing. So instead, I let my arms succumb to the pull of gravity, closed my eyes and went limp, so as to pretend that I had passed out, and waited for the creature to drop its guard.
The silken wrappings had engulfed everything below my navel, when the creature stopped secreting its webs. With a click of its fangs, the creature crept closer to my face, and began to caress what bare skin had been left exposed to the cool night air. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but I bit my lip and continued to endure.
The drider closed its legs around my upper torso, engulfing me like a cage. But this was the moment I had waited for. Channelling my aura, I fired a concussive blast from the repulsor in my gauntlet into the creature's midsection. The creature screeched and let go, falling to the ground with a massive crash. As it writhed about in a futile attempt to right itself, I unsheathed my swords, and sliced at the webs suspending me in the air. The strands were split in an instant, and I began to fall towards the creature, angling my blades to impale the creature through its belly. My aim was true, and my blades easily pierced the creature's fleshy underside. With a piercing shriek, the creature's struggles grew weaker, until finally, it fell still, and began to evaporate in wisps of white smoke.
As I yanked my blades free and jumped down from the drider's carcass, I saw a pair of snow-white Beowolves emerge from the darkness. With a bark, they charged. My blades still at the ready, I swiped, but the Beowolves ducked under my strike, and popped up on either side of me. I didn't have a chance to retaliate, as one creature slashed at the back of my knee, while the other took a swipe at the small of my back. Neither attack pierced my aura, but the suddenness was enough to send me onto my hands and knees. Before I could get back on my feet, both creatures gripped my arms and forced them away from my body. I struggled, but the Beowolves' grip was like a vise. As I futilely fought back against my captors, the woman walked up to me, her arms behind her back.
"I'm sorry for this, Darrel, but this is necessary."
"How do you know my name?"
The white haired Huntress looked directly at me.
"My sister has mentioned you numerous times in her communications with me. About your abrasive stubbornness, your ceaseless tenacity."
"Your sister...?"
"Did she never mention me?"
I said nothing. The woman shook her head.
"No matter. But you'll see her again. I promise." She stated, a hint of warmth to her voice. I never got the chance to respond, as she pulled out a syringe, filled with a clear liquid. Instinctively, I panicked, and tried to wiggle free, but her creatures held me tightly in place. The woman flicked the syringe, and plunged it into my neck. All at once, my vision dulled, and I felt my energy drain away.
From what I remember about the gap between Seasons 3 and 4, it's about a 6 to 8 month gap between the two.
Also, this chapter, along with the next, spans the entirety of Volume 4. I wish that it weren't the case, but if I were to write about Darrel's escapades as a fugitive, I'd be writing the same chapter 10 times. So hopefully this time skip will be able to scratch that itch.