Normally, spending an hour cramped in a box would cause some stiffness in the joints, and yes, Adam could feel that now, however he wasn't taking any risks. The top priority was to await his target's arrival, and if that meant keeping his blade sheathed and sneaking about like some lost child, then that was what he would do.
When he was certain all sound had ceased, Adam peaked through the tiny opening from the box. Both visually and audibly the coast appeared clear, and with a carefully and swift movement he found himself free of the confined space and crouched beside it in the darkened room. It wasn't pitch black like he expected, but the dulled flickering lights above offered little in the way of vision; for Humans anyway.
He noted how worn down the walls looked, and based on their structure and general appearance he knew full well he wasn't in some warehouse or other large structure. The room was much to small for comfort, and with the only exit being a single door ahead, the man questioned whether remaining hidden would actually work. Turning back he saw how the boxes of liquor were stacked tightly, and it appeared mere chance that his own crate was the last to be brought in, allowing him to pop the lid without needing to physically bash his way free.
Standing around would do little good however, but before he could move the doorknob clicked. Thinking quickly he shot ahead as quietly as he could, taking position on the side of the door and going low as it opened.
Damnit!
"See, all pack-" The woman froze at the sight Adam was dreading. The lid to the crate was just slightly askew, which wouldn't have been so noticeable had the rest not been perfectly closed. She waked forward, followed by another, and Adam watched as the two looked into the unintended resting place.
Adam was already up the stairs before they could even speak; not willing to risk being spotted. Everything appeared standard, with a clean looking hallway greeting him. Two directions, with no real windows to dictate a clear sight of the outer world; Adam took the right.
A click echoed behind him.
"And where do you think you're going."
Apparently the jig was up, and almost instantly Adam was accosted on both sides by a total of four. Looking back the two behind were the pair from down the stares, seemingly having wizened up, and the direction he was headed had two more, most likely having came out due to poor timing. Adam turned back, and watched as the armed woman approached.
"Well, well, look what we hav-" He offered little in the way of mercy, already on her with Wilt pierced through her skull. The smugglers didn't have aura it seemed, which mean they weren't big time crooks; this was convenient for him as he didn't need to worry about instant repercussions from the mess he was about to make.
Without even a chance to speak he sliced through the other one, directly down the middle leaving the two halves to fall away. His face shot back, and he caught the tail end of the other two. One had tried his luck running, but the crimson shard ripped through his throat, causing the man to drop to his knees, clawing at the metal as he choked. Adam, rather than go for the thrown weapon, instead had his arms wrapped around the head of the last goon, a much older looking man.
The neck paled as flesh was ripped apart in the twist, both crushing and cutting off the airway. The three-sixty degree rotation not only snapped the bones within, but mashed everything as well; no doubt causing mass amounts of agony as the blood puffed momentarily to the floor before turning to a gentle stream. Adam spent the next ten minutes moving the dead to the basement, shutting the door behind to keep the soon to be rancid sent from escaping.
They'd be found eventually, but by then he would be long gone.
The encounter was swift, and very much smoother than he was used to recently. Taking a look around he came across the living room, and while it wasn't too dirty at a glance he could still see the mold hidden in the corners. The man plopped himself on the couch, and silently reveled in the momentary peace. How long had it been since he'd gotten a chance to rest? His mind wandered a little, more so to the memory he'd relived, as well as shifting towards his overall goal.
Beacon, and by extent Vale, had merely been the test of their influence. Originally the plan had been to take control of Vale before moving onto the real target; Atlas. The White Fang had, in essence, finally obtained the attention and fear necessary to trip up the kingdoms, this in turn would cause said groups to bring out their deadlier tools. The distraction would be enough.
Adam looked down to Wilt, now sheathed delicately in Blush; combined with the memories he'd experienced it provided an ironic bit of nostalgia that only Saw and him could fully understand. Much like his partner and long time friend, Adam too had taken his weapon, rather than create it.
Heh, a field of roses... Never once had the bull Faunus humored the thought he'd be set upon by so many bearing names and titles of flora, even less when they paralleled the crimson pricked symbol of romance now in his possession. A wonderous bloody tear, delicate to the touch, and yet so violently painful to hold; roses were deceptive through and through.
Adam slid his fingers over Blush's sturdy exterior, until he came across the small indent he sought. Pressing in on it caused the plate to shift, and with a click the chamber unlocked for him to pull open. The compartment was designed to hold extra ammunition, hidden out of sight. However he never used it for that, as from inside he pulled out a small string, and on the end was a key card bearing the number series one-one-three.
Hidden so brazenly close to Mantle, just on the outskirts of the city, was an unsuspecting Dust mine; his Dust mine. It had been the very one Adam escaped from, during the fateful night he first gained the scar hidden beneath his mask. While the escape had been an almost total failure, both Saw and him had gotten away that night, using the very key card so graciously and unknowingly donated by Jacques Schnee himself.
That very same night Adam had run across him; the original wielder of Wilt and Blush.
The nameless man had offered a pitiful look to Adam as the young boy tried his hand. The tension of his disturbingly steady silver gaze had Adam wondering if he'd even survive, questioning if Jacques would ultimately have the last laugh. Yet the Human seemed to have at least some sense of heart, as when offered the chance to finish the child off, he faltered. Adam, though still a boy, showed no such mercy, and in his desperate grasp for both freedom and survival he mustered up the little bit of strength he still had, and for the first time experienced the total wrath of his semblance.
The look of peace in the man's silver eyes as all life faded away was... disturbing.
Yet the weapon now within the young boy's hands just felt so right, like the very blade was made for him. Adam had struck true, and as he pulled it from his opponent's heart he'd noticed what looked to be an old looking journal tied to the man's waist. On that night both Saw and him had fled, regrettably leaving the others behind as they lost their pursuers in the city, and from time to time as they moved the duo - especially Adam himself - became entranced by the book. Within the journal were the confessions of a man wrought with gilt, ashamed of the fact that the job he held out of necessity went completely against the values of his family history.
The first few pages held explanation of the man's abandonment of his family; in search of answers to the mysteries written inside the very journal he wrote; more so a catalogue of family remembrance.
Littered across those pages were rumors, myths, and legends spanning back who knew how long. It was in the first few paragraphs where Adam learned the book contained a recollection of previously oral and paper history; constantly updated as generations carried on. According to the journal the man had a sister, one who carried a book of her own, which held the more 'recent' legends and tales of their kin; a woman by the name of Summer Rose.
The words were curt and to the point, but burned within the pages was a history entirely hidden from all scholars; at least those Adam himself heard of. The young boy had been enthralled by the writing, as the tone alone created feelings of wonder and adventure. It was these ancient recorded myths that taught him the importance of wording, and had helped to sharpen his own tongue, granting him the emotional sway needed to give off rallies and speeches which emboldened his troops. History in this particular book followed the life and speculative legends of one particular man.
Thorn Rose.
The family name seemed to stick, even after what must have been a millennium; a feat admirably rare for most families. Thorn's stories were varied, telling of kingdoms Adam had never even heard of. The man was a warrior at heart if the tales of warfare and battle were anything to go by. While most history contained in the journal was mere speculation and word of mouth, apparently bits of the man's own personal writings had been catalogued within as well; translated to modern day common. The most legible of these records recalled was the battle for Veilroot, a supposed crimson jungle infested with crime.
In this adventure Thorn was joined by a woman and child who he believed would aid him in taking down the syndicate of brigands who ruled the place. Again most of the tale was lost or vague, but within the journal entries a barren truth was found. Thorn had a family, consisting of a wife by the name of Veronica who married into it, as well as an adopted child they found as a baby on their doorstep one night. His son went missing, believed to have perished in a battle of some sort, and with it the family began to have issues as their own kingdom of Mobius was seemingly invaded by Grimm overnight.
What drew Adam's attention mainly was the way Grimm were portrayed. Thorn described his confusion over the guardian Grimm turning hostile, seemingly wondering why their queen would let them run rampant, such a thing implied that this 'queen' had a semblance which allowed her to control the beasts of darkness; a power only ever fantasized about, and one so interestingly familiar. All that was certain however was the telling of how his wife and him made an escape to Veilroot, as it was there she apparently hailed from.
Most intriguing in terms of people however was the woman who aided him; it turned out she had been the nanny who helped raise his own son. An elder woman, armed with a scythe and near unstoppable skill; the whole thing was straight out of a novel really. Adam never did finish that tale, and with nothing to do but wait for rumors of his targets arrival, he decided to continue where he left off; certainly there was no harm in resting a bit.
The old journal had long since been lost, yet as a boy he'd been so drawn into those tales that when he'd first gotten a scroll he made sure to photograph every page as a way to preserve the stories he was so fond of. Maybe one day his own actions and efforts would be seen as legend; one could only imagine.
He opened up the first preserved page.
Well I'll be. History once more seemed to sway coincidence across his vision, as if teasing him personally. The name had changed, but the previous descriptions had been staggeringly consistent; funnily enough this woman seemed to share many similarities with a certain friend of Weiss, so much so that Adam was convinced they must have been related. Many stories recalled the same woman, one who's appearance was always followed by drastic change. The destruction, restoration, and reimaginations of kingdoms followed suit when she was around.
While many of these stories were surely exaggerated to the point of ridiculous, bearing mentions of mythical beasts and other such fantastical accounts, the skill of this woman at the very least looked undeniably consistent throughout all of it.
Thorn wrote about his request to her, bedridden from injury as she walked out to no doubt face their foes head on during a critical moment. With all the false names she wore the man had chosen to ask for her true identity. Be it under the belief he was doomed, or from a small hint of guilt wedged in her heart, she provided an answer. Adam didn't know if she spoke honestly in this tale, but regardless of whether it was another fake calling card or not, it didn't quell the small chuckle that slipped out. Weiss's partner had some work to do if she wanted to live up to the name sitting innocently before his eyes.
Ruby Rose. I wonder... were you named after her, or is it once again just coincidence? This family does seem to love their history.
.
.
"So..." Nora looked hopefully at them, all the while the group watched in what amounted to mild confusion."Think we can take it for a ride?"
"Nora." Ren sighed, all the while Jaune was speaking with the transport crew.
Pyrrha, while knowing they'd succeed eventually, understood why the men were hesitant to hand over the bike - it wasn't theirs after all. Yang wasn't here to claim it though, and rather than let it potentially risk being stolen, the crew opted to take 'Bumblebee' - as the blond often called it - with them. Jaune was making headway though, as Pyrrha overheard one of the head workers speaking with him as they shifted over passports and the such. Luckily the group held a little bit of fame from the defence of Beacon and the overall Vytal Festival, and it was this in combination with the security footage on the train that was earning them the trust of the people in charge of luggage.
"Alright." She heard the man relent, and with a small smirk of victory from Jaune Pyrrha watched as the workers unhooked the bike. "However, we'll be keeping up to date on this. If miss Xiao Long returns and claims she never gave permission for you to take it, all of us will be having a nice chat with the police, understood?"
"Yes sir." The white knight's voice was sure, and Pyrrha felt a little bit of relief in how he held himself highly. While things may have been awful lately, she took pride in Jaune's growth as a person; mainly due to her affection for the boy, though she would never admit to it aloud.
That itself had been a strange admittance, but it was not without reason, yet the influences which helped her come to the realization were... odd, to say the least. Just last night before arriving in the station she had another dream, or as she referred to them now, a misplaced memory. Pyrrha Nikos, the invincible girl and champion of combat to many, held a strong faith in the concept known as destiny. Many may have considered her foolish for such beliefs, but ever since she was a little girl Pyrrha had believed each and every person in life had a purpose and a fate; during the low points of life it was this notion alone that gave her the strength to keep going during bouts of intense depression, brought on from her responsibilities and rapidly rising fame.
V had told her they were simply dreams, and even humored the idea that if they were omens of a terrible fate, then they would defy such odds. The thought calmed her for a bit, but it was hardly an opponent for the memories. Last night she stood with Jaune, lips locked mere moments before pushing him into one of the rocket lockers from Beacon, sending him off as she marched to her demise at Cinder's hands. It had been so vivid, so raw; how could such a thing be only a figment of one's imagination?
Combined with the various memories of his growth she'd seen from Ruby's eyes, Pyrrha had understandably grown quite the attachment to the young man. She knew where he was headed, and what type of man he was and would be. Though he wasn't there yet, with a little work and some help he would be. The boy wanted to be a hero, and while she was certain he would attain such aspirations...
Pyrrha wasn't so sure she'd live long enough to see it.
Fate, through its very concept alone, was cruel. If she was meant to die, then the girl had no doubt it would happen. Still, with these dreary thoughts and torments it was the stark, joyful cry of Nora who swayed her back into the present, as her eyes widened and she dove to the left.
"NORA!" Both Jaune and Ren cried, the former full of worry and the latter silently withholding his personal feelings of defeat.
"Oh yeah!" Their hammer-wielding friend drifted to a stop beside a tall tree pridefully standing at the corner of the street. She reached up, plucking the balloon string caught in a branch and handed it to a small girl beside, who smiled and took off. Nora faced them again with a smirk. "How's that for cowgirling?"
Pyrrha allowed her worries to momentarily subside at the sight.
"I'm not sure Yang would approve of you on her bike without asking." Despite the obvious warning, Pyrrha allowed a peaceful smile to display across her lips as she finished. It was moments like this which reminded her that while she might be doomed, there was still joy to be found in the journey leading up to that end.
There was a loud 'ahem' followed by a man clearing his throat, and Pyrrha watched as Nora smiled sheepishly to the police officer stood next to the bike, arms crossed and looking less than pleased.
"Here we go again." Jaune let out as he, begrudgingly, walked over to hopefully clear everything up, all the while Pyrrha sent him a sympathetic look.
.
.
"Back again, hmm?" His smirk was infuriating, and although I was face down in the shallow waters of the void, I just knew he was having fun. From there I rose, casting only the filthiest of glares his way.
"Shut it, I'm not in the mood."
"Hmm?" He licked his lips almost playfully, and twisted ever so slightly askew. "Things not going the way you wanted? Was Jinn's revelation really so painful."
"Jinn huh?" I scoffed, making it clear I was not so easily played in his games. "Do you honestly think I believe any of that nonsense?"
"I've said it before, your belief is irrelevant" He clapped twice. "But to each their own."
"What do you want." My apparent other never showed himself unless he wanted something, and that 'something' was always a form of cryptic gibberish. He, in a look of gentle shock, held his hand before his lips with a gasp.
"Oh my, what do 'I' want?" The following giggle pissed me off further, but I restrained myself. "Truthfully, there's nothing more I could ask of you. So far you've diligently succeeded in every step necessary; even now you walk the perfect path, although that's less born of choice and more... expectation."
"You didn't answer my question." He smiled at that, and sauntered over with his hands supposedly linked behind his back. Stopping just before me he spoke.
"Persistent, I like it." His face morphed into one of succulent lust, similar to that of a yearning lover. "I only want you to see the truth, to accept the honest and powerful courage Jinn showed when ripping the blinds from your eyes." Before I knew it his tongue was scraping across my lower cheek, and momentarily frozen I felt the rough and slimy organ flick across my earlobe before his voice filled my mind. "To know their strengths."
His body slamming across the empty floor as the thumps uprooted the still water was enough to quell me into a solid state of mind. The ends of my fingertips were wet and bloody; I must have broken the skin as I flung the revolting copy away. He was so keen on pressing into me, in seemingly uniting every aspect of his touch to me, it was truly awful...
And my body physically loved it!
I burned those thoughts away however, as while perverse in his actions my core understood exactly what he was implying; it frightened me further. He was me, in everything but mind, at least that's what I believed. I wanted to deny it, yet every touch had my skin yearning to bond with his. I did not understand just who exactly he was, only that he was a part of me. My body in response however did, and I knew from the reactions within that the only end to these inklings would be to let him join with me.
Again I did not understand why, nor how I came to these conclusions, only that they were correct. I refused however, as it felt that if I were to merge with him, this apparent part of me, then I would change into someone undistinguishable, and wholly opposite of I.
I would never merge with him.
As if in opposition to my previous thought, I suddenly had the urge to laugh loudly, as if someone told an astounding joke; my body, clearly, was taunting me. Almost as if he heard my thoughts, or merely found humor in my suffering, the other me on the ground bleeding from his sides laughed, and then melted into the water as he fully disappeared. The water rose, taking his shape, and color was restored.
"That was fun, but you know I cannot be defeated; you cannot destroy a part of yourself, lest you eradicate it all." He walked close again, only this time he stopped some steps away. "I'm not your enemy you know. I, like you, desire to see change, even if the current state of things makes it impossible."
I said nothing to that, instead sighing in an offer of defeat, as I knew nothing would change his mind on what it was he wanted; he'd get it, no matter what. And so I lowered myself and sat, taking a moment to enjoy the lukewarm water just barely eclipsing my ankles as I looked up to him and waved him to continue; with any luck this would be over with soon.
"Alright." I offered. "Tell me what you want." He shook his head lightly and sighed.
"We." He pulled his hands into his chest, fingers grasping as if to emphasize. "Not 'I', not 'you', 'we'. This benefits 'us', because we are one. A solitary soul, split and experiencing itself from differing perspectives, with one side ignorant of it's truth, as the other holds answers it was never born with, but made for." He chuckled, though this time I noted a drop in his sassy tone. "Unlike you, I hold all these answers, and believe it or no, if you knew right now what I do, you'd hold the same reactions as I."
"Then why not tell me?" I leaned back, crossing my arms beneath my head as I rested in the comfort of the still liquid, awaiting his response. Once more he chuckled before carrying on.
"That's not how this works, unfortunate as it is." I saw him come over, laying beside me and curling in, much like how I recalled Angela once used to do as we watched the stars from the upper castle gardens. His head leaned against my chest as he spoke.
"Unlike everyone else in this world, we were never meant to exist. This in turn makes us uniquely capable of greater alterations, so long as they do not disrupt the ending of Remnant's tale. We may be powerful, but we are not gods..."He wrapped a single arm over my chest, now on top and staring deeply into my eyes. "Once upon a time Remnant never had such a thing as fate you know."
"Really?" It was an interesting thought, though I didn't know how to feel about the whole 'never meant to exist' part. "Care to tell, or is this yet another thing I must discover on my own?"
"The latter again."
"Of course." My breathing was even again, and strangely it was relaxing to have him on my chest; the thought of us free of bickering felt nice, though I was loathed to admit it. "So, what is it you do want to tell me? I'm assuming it's in regards to Jinn."
"Partially." He leaned off me, sitting back some distance away. I rose to meet his eyes, and he spoke in an impartial tone. "Though this is more in line with all the spirits bound to the relics; all three of them."
"Three?" I questioned, recalling the relics themselves. "Are there not four relics?"
"There are, but only three have spirits; creation, choice, and knowledge."
"What about destruction?" He snorted, which had my mind zeroing in on the thought.
"The sword is nothing more than a cheap bastardization; a knock off designed to fill out the final corner of the puzzle. But even a dagger can cut, though nothing its force may be in the eyes of a great sword. However it is the limits of our... mystical friends." He looked to smile again, showing off his taunting mug; and subsequently drawing back my irritation. "All of them have strengths, but along with their unique positives, is a corresponding limit. Take Jinn for instance. Unlike the other two she is only able to speak truth, in the way the user intends."
"What do you mean 'intends'? Isn't she supposed to answer people's questions?"
"She does, but not how they may be asked. Think of this, when you ask a question, there is always a chance that the way you word it might make it hard to understand, and thus the answer received might not be the one originally desired." He stood, and so did I; keen to face him on equal footing. "You saw what happened with Ozma, our not so divine lord-"
"Don't." I stated, and he just gave me a look of pity.
"Fine, swamp yourself in delusions for the time being, it hardly matters. Now, as we recall, Ozma asked how to destroy Salem. Normal people would assume he was asking to kill her, Jinn however saw this different. She saw that he wanted to defeat her, and perhaps save her, restoring her to the Salem of old; the woman he fell in love with, a woman of curiosity and kindness. However this, as proven by her, was impossible for him to do in his state, and so she answered thusly. Jinn is able to see everything, the past, present, and most recently earned, the end of it all. Jinn's fault though, is in her insistence of truth; she is entirely incapable of lying."
"How is this a fault?" I tried, to which he laughed.
"It is a fault for her, not necessarily us. But sometimes, when presented with an absolute truth, people will shut out any alternate solutions to the problems they sought answers for in the first place. The other two can lie, but their faults also present themselves in creative ways, one only needs a keen eye." He leaned in again. "Keep that in mind; Jinn cannot lie, and will always speak the truth, even if she herself doesn't know it."
"And the others?"
"What about them?" And there it was, the sassy smirk I hated, now back in full force.
"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" I should have know it was too good to expect such a thing.
"Jinn decided to give you a little secret, so I found it fair to do so as well." He clapped again, melting into the water as it rose, and rose, and rose.
The water was above my head now, and painfully it began to fill my lungs, burning my innards as I suddenly realized I'd lost the ability to hold my breath.
"Now wake up before we drown in the snow, okay?"
.
.
Flinging away into a roll I sputtered and hacked my lungs out. My eyes were open again, and I saw the snow all around me. Looking at the spot I rationed I must have been lying face down, and with how the cold was much more piercing assumed I was out for quite a while; and if my low aura was anything to go off, it had been keeping me from freezing.
Drowning huh? It was one of the few ways a hunter could die, even with aura. The shield of the soul defended the body, but that body still needed air, food, and water; aura couldn't substitute that. From what I saw it was dark now, and last I remembered it was day before meeting with the other me. My body was heavy, but at the very least it wasn't entirely agonizing.
Maybe continuing on without rest, especially after a battle and train crash, wasn't such a swell idea. I was surrounded by trees though, and so decided to make my way to the nearest pillar of wood. I was shielded from the sharp snow still flurrying; a small benefit.
Seeing as I must have passed out, I decided to let my body rest a few minutes before carrying on; at least to prevent any more unwanted naps. Looking at it the storm was less ravaging than before, a good sign that hopefully meant it would be over soon. Looking around I could see the barest of dips in the otherwise untouched snow, showing where I had come, and allowing me to discern the direction required.
Argus was, at best, another day or so away, and so once I rested for an hour or so I started off again.
Author's note
...
Once more we are graced with Nora's nonsense; clearly the most important part of this chapter.
Terrible jokes aside, I'm certain this has been a bit of a heavy one - weighted more by thought than raw emotion. Several... I suppose you can say important things have been stated, and knowing how this story often goes, this is either a blessing, or a warning.
More memory nonsense, Pyrrha's suspicions, Adam's history, and then V's chat in the void; Yeah, this is a fittingly bloated chapter. But hey, at least you got a few answers to questions you probably never even asked, except one of you... maybe - I have hope one of you internally asked a related question.
Catch you again later.