Everything hurt.
Literally everything hurt. Not debilitatingly painful but painful enough that he couldn't move two feet without wincing.
"Son of a bitch..."
Six groaned in pain as he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun beaming down through the window of his suite. His body ached as badly as his brain did during hangovers and he knew damn well why.
The Mojave was a desert. Naturally, it was terribly hot. From Arizona to Texas to Nevada to even California, it was goddamn hot. And he was used to it. Then suddenly, he was up in one of the most frigid places in this part of the wasteland. And despite the radiator in his suite keeping things warm, his body—no matter what kind of technological wonder-crap got sewed into it—was not liking the sudden change in temperature one bit.
Damn cold.
"Ugh, damn cold," hissed Yang who had been coated in her own blanket after waking up to her body adapting to the high-altitude chill.
"Tell me about it," Blake moaned from her own cocoon on her own bed nearby.
Ruby let out a garbled noise against her pillow just as Weiss trudged out of the bathroom with hands too limp to lift a book and a face too tired to face the day.
Velvet then walked in with a tray of their mid-morning breakfast and a dosage of everyone's medication. With an apologetic smile, she laid it down on the end table and segregated the dishes. And though she played the part of caretaker, it was obvious in the slump in her step and the bags under her eyes that the rabbit faunus was suffering about as much as her underclassmen.
"Doc never said anything about, ugh, this," the blonde groaned. "I'll take a runny nose over this..."
"Eat up, everyone. One tablet per person," Velvet chirped as cheerfully and optimistically as she could. Even though her legs hurt. And her ribs still hurt. And her joints too. In fact, she had been straining to be lively for her underclassmen's sake despite the aching in her muscles.
"Moving for days under the searing desert heat and to suddenly be pummeled by the freezing cold," the heiress droned. "Our bodies are acclimating poorly to the change..."
Her teammates grunted out unintelligible responses.
Thud, thud. Knock, knock.
Weiss opened the door.
"Oh my dearies!" exclaimed Lily, whose housekeeping duties landed her in front of their open room. "You're all so sick! Don't worry, your great grandma will fix you all up."
Team RWBY-V eyed each other warily.
"Um, that's okay, Lily," the heiress tried diplomatically. "We can—"
"No, that's not okay, dearie! You all need to stay in bed! Don't worry, sugar. Great grandma will make you some nice brahmin soup."
With that, Lily Bowen pushed her cleaning cart down the hallway and while having a loud disjointed argument with someone named Leo...who must be either downstairs or behind the corner because, as far as team RWBY-V could tell, there seemed to be no one else around.
When Lily mentioned that they were going to have pancakes and brahmin stew for breakfast, the first thing to hit the five girls was relief. This was followed immediately by sudden realization capped with primal dread knowing that Nora loved pancakes.
Then team RWBY-V noticed the door to team JNPR-S's room was open. And it was empty.
Then they saw a small group of super-mutants idling in the foyer. Some of whom were covered in batter. Copious amounts of batter. Ridiculously egregious amounts of batter.
Then they walked into the kitchen. Or what at one point had been a kitchen.
With Ren sitting tiredly on the floor, covered in dough. And Jaune, dazed and confused, slouched over one of the fluorescent lamps suspended from the dough-painted ceiling. While Pyrrha painfully tried her best to keep Syrup from eating Nora's bowl of...something. Something that she baked. Something that she, Nora Valkyrie, had cobbled together from the lodge's assortment of ingredients and threw into the oven until it exploded in the hopes of conjuring something edible.
And to think either Ruby or Weiss were bad at cooking.
In the corner, Marcus let out a long sigh as he picked up a mop and began mopping the pasty cream pools on the tiled floors. Meanwhile, Keene strolled past with his feather duster and pink tutu, grumbling about 'these dirty humans always ruining everything.' To which Nora harked that she was 'just trying to make pancakes.'
Then Lily, overseeing the entire fuster-cluck of an operation, clasped her hands in adoration and loudly admired her 'great granddaughter's' handiwork.
Team RWBY-V, their bodies still painfully reeling from getting slammed by Mount Charleston's average mean temperature, slowly began to feel the migraines that Six complained about.
Six was fiddling with the knobs on his hot plate when he heard the knocks on his door.
Damn it, housekeeping! Go away, I'm busy. "Who is it?"
"It's grandma, sugar!"
Ah hell, what is it now? With an angry sigh, the Courier hastily put away his makeshift moonshine still—a tray that held an empty glass bottle, a bottle of water, a fission battery, a pouch of yeast, two heads of corn, and some cuttings of Nevada agave that he plucked from the lodge's back gardens. With his alcohol-to-be safely tucked under his bed, he trudged over to unlock the knob and stood back in anticipation of it being yanked off its hinges.
"It's open," he called.
"Good!" greeted Lily who, thankfully, calmly eased the door open. For some reason, Pancake was grinning behind her. "You need to be more responsible, dearie."
The fuck is she going on about this time? "Responsible for what exactly?"
"Your children, of course! My great grandkids. In fact, they need you right now."
Six raised a brow as he regarded Nora sheepishly grinning behind the super-mutant and whistling not-so-subtly at the ceiling. I don't like the look of this. "Need me to do what?"
Lily then regarded Pancake with a grandmotherly (or somewhat grandmotherly) nudge on the shoulder. "Go on, sugar. Tell daddy what you need."
This better be good. Then again, this is Pancake. This is probably the opposite of good. "What is it?"
"So~o," the ginger drawled. "We're kinda doing something re~eally important and...we're sho~ort on one person so~o..."
The Courier was unimpressed. "I'm busy."
"Oh. Maybe you're not busy now?"
He glared at her. "What did I just say?"
"But that was like three seconds ago," Pancake whinnied. "Are you not busy now?"
I don't have time for this shit. I got maintenance to do, moonshine to make, and balances to check. And a lot of other, more important things to handle that involve keeping the Mojave in order. "No. I'm busy."
"Sugar!" chastised Lily. "Don't be so rude."
"Yeah, Six!" parroted Nora. "Don't be so rude."
Shut up, both of you. It's ten in the morning and you're giving me a headache. "Look, I'm pretty sure you can get Marcus or Keene or—wait, scratch that. Not Keene. Uh, you can get Calamity to help you out if it's that important."
The super-mutant folded her massive bulging arms and shook her head like a disappointed parent. Which confused and irritated Six even more.
"I think this calls for a sterner hand," Lily remarked.
I don't like the sound of that. He eased his hand back over the knob. "I'll see you later then."
"Hey, that sounds like a yes to me," chirped Pancake.
"It actually does, sweetie." With that, Lily grabbed Six's wrist before he could swing the door closed and dragged him out into the hallway. "Come, now, dearie. Your kids need you to spin the bottle."
Spin-the-...are you shitting me? "Seriously!?"
"Seriously," snickered Nora.
For all his strengths and augmentations, the Courier could have easily muscled his way out of this. But the look on this little ginger's face, the smile she had, the brightness of a child eager to play with someone who never had the time for them because they were so busy with more important things...than spending time with those who...really mattered...
"You left... You left the ones you cared about... You left to protect others."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Fuck it. It's just spin-the-bottle. Nothing really bad comes out of that dumb game. What could go wrong?
So many things nearly went horribly, horribly wrong.
First, someone dared Nora to make a bomb out of the ingredients in the kitchen. Six put a stop to that quick. Then Nora dared Pyrrha to do some kind of sleight-of-hand bullshit with her Semblance. The Courier ended up tackling the redhead after she sneezed and accidentally magnetized every single metallic thing in the room. Thank goodness he had enough electromagnetic shielding on him to keep from getting dangerously tingly.
By the time he got Sparta under control, the empty whiskey bottle had landed on Lily.
"Ooh! I know just the thing," chirped the nightkin.
Christ Almighty, what is it going to be this time!?
So they waited. And waited. Then something more concerning happened: Lily started talking to herself. Specifically, she started to talking to Leo...her violent warmongering alter ego that was characteristic of the purposes for which super-mutants were initially created.
The Courier's eyes went wider than any of the others in the room. Oh no.
"Who's Leo?" Ruby asked.
"Uh, Ruby," Blake eased in cautiously. "I don't think Lily's..."
"Lily's not in the right state of mind, right now," Six intoned. "Hyper, call Marcus. Now."
The reaper tilted her head. "Huh? Why?"
"Shut up and go," he hissed. "I'm serious. Call Marcus! Use your Semblance if you have to."
"Um, okay then." Then she disappeared behind her rose petals.
Damn it. Did Lily take her meds today? Doc said her dosages have been irregular lately. "Lily? Listen to my voice."
"Sugar? Is that you? Hnn, sorry, dearie. I'm having a really"—snarl—"urgh, a very important talk with Leo right now."
"What's happening?" Jaune whispered.
"Is Lily okay?" Pyrrha asked.
The Courier ignored the questions behind him. "Lily. It's me, Theo. You know you shouldn't be talking to Leo. Especially not now."
"But Leo...he doesn't really like you."
"Yes. He doesn't. Which is why it's better if you talk to me, instead. Theo, not Leo."
Growl, hiss, snicker. "Of course, sugar. What is it you need?"
"How about..." Six noticed the bottle rolled up to the side his boot. He gave the kids a fierce glare that told them to shut up and let him handle this. "It's my turn to give you a dare, Lily. And I dare you...to go back to cleaning the lodge. For the day. How's that?"
"Ooh! I like that dare! Don't worry. Grandma will keep this place spic and span!" With that, the nightkin got up, withdrew her duster, and existed into the hallway just as Marcus ran in with Ruby in tow.
A moment later, Yang asked, "What just happened?"
Six sneered. "This. This is why this game is fucking stupid."
"Now, now," Marcus interjected, clapping his shoulder a little too roughly. "Let's not be too harsh, Major. Lily's still playing the game, after all. And if she finds out that it ended, she wouldn't have to continue fulfilling her dare now, would she?"
The Courier gawked at him. Shit. Does that mean I have to stay until this whole shebang's over? Seriously?
"You don't have to be so denigrating," Weiss groused. "It's just a game."
"Game, huh? Speak for yourself, Snowball," Six snorted. "I thought you and I had a same mind about this charade."
The heiress blinked back at him, eyes wider than usual.
"O~okay then!" Ruby interjected with a fragile smile. "Whose turn is it?"
And just like that, the brats went back to spinning that empty whiskey bottle. At least that pesky deathclaw wasn't here; something about Velvet being on 'Syrup duty' which meant she had to chaperone the damn thing while Doctor Henry held his magnifying glass over it so he could figure out how to get his own pet deathclaw.
I could really use some booze right about now. Goddamn it, Doc.
At least from now on, Marcus made sure that whatever crazy ideas these kids (particularly Pancake and Blondie) thought up wouldn't cause any significant damage to the lodge or the entire commune. And after enduring more stupid dares (letting Ruby piggyback him like a horse, armwrestling Nora until he nearly broke her arm, and bench-pressing Blake of all people), he managed to weasel his way out of this after being given the chance to issue a dare.
He dared the kids to let him leave or they stop playing.
And so they did.
They could argue and pout and puppy-dog-eye him all they want; he was done. Well, not really. Not entirely. He just wanted to get back to his room and get back to his guns and get back to secretly brewing his moonshine. Goodness knows he was itching for some booze. At least the pills Doctor Henry prescribed him were keeping tabs on his withdrawal so he wouldn't have to worry about his hands shaking every now and then.
Besides, these brats could have all their fun without him.
Really, for crying out loud.
They didn't need to waste his fucking time doing dumb shit that wouldn't help anybody.
Why the hell are you giving me that look, Marcus? You know damn well I'm not interested in this bullshit. I got work to do.
Marcus only shook his head with that same level of disappointment that continued to irk him. The super-mutant didn't stop him when the Courier violently kicked the door open.
On his way back to his own suite on the other side of the lodge, Six couldn't forget the look on Snowball's face when he stormed out, like he shot her dog or something. Out of his supercharged brats, it was Weiss—not Ruby, not Yang, not Nora—who seemed the most offended over the fact that he up and walked out of their game like it was a damn waste of time.
Because it was.
In fact, he had expected her to be the least involved with this crap. That little ice princess was very uptight and even hesitant to even play to begin with. And she smiled the least. Granted, she still smiled at the stupidity of it. But it wasn't like the wide grins that the brats had on their faces after every cockamamie dare.
Either it's that time of the month or she's just being crabby.
Ruby was doing her best, Weiss noted.
Their hyperactive team leader, though under the weather as half of them were, gave her all to make their sick day as fun as could be. After their rather messy breakfast, she had gotten team JNPR-S to hang out in their dorm (since they were under the weather as well) and even initiated a few parlor games that she claimed she and Yang played with their father back home in Patch.
The heiress bit her lip.
Even now, after the Courier so callously left their game (even if it was a little...childish) to go do whatever it was he did, Ruby still tried to maintain their spirits. But the exhaustion from their bodies and the fact that Six did not mince his words when he expressed how...disinterested...he was in this charade...
Yes. Charade. This was all a charade. A pointless mimicry of something so benign and irrelevant that it was worth no one's time at all.
Truly, there were far more important things to attend to other than spending the rest of the day indoors coughing at crude jokes and building pillow forts within the walls of their self-induced quarantine. Because, out of their whole party, Weiss—born and raised in Atlas—was the least affected by the chill temperatures.
Which meant that she was the most fit to brave the snowy outskirts surrounding Jacobstown.
Come to think of it, she could use a break right now.
Why? She...honestly...did not know why. Or she did not want to acknowledge why. She just stood up, fetched Myrtenaster and her Browning sidearm from under her bunk, slipped on her oversized leather boots, and donned her NCR jacket as she made her way out of their room.
"Weiss? Where are you going?" Ruby asked her.
"Just...need some air," Weiss squeezed out. Why was her throat suddenly dry?
"Um, you okay there, Ice Queen?" Yang tried.
She finally found her voice. It came out a little too harshly than she intended. "I have a name, Yang."
"Whoa. I was just asking."
"Weiss," Blake prodded. "Are you—"
"I'm fine. I just need some space, that's all."
Weiss felt the jovial atmosphere cool and mentally cursed herself for being so abrasive. Then again, she couldn't help herself. For some reason, her emotions right now were...difficult to control.
"Miss Schnee?" Marcus asked.
"If you'll excuse me, I would like some time alone," the heiress managed. She could sense the uncertainty between the two sister teams behind her.
"I see. Very well," acquiesced the super-mutant leader. He shuffled aside and opened the door for her. As he would have for the Courier earlier...if the man didn't tear it off its hinges while spitting his vitriol.
Blake had a mind to go after Weiss.
She could tell that the heiress was not in a very happy place right now. And she knew that it was because of Six; he had been having one of those moments where he didn't realize he had been thinking aloud. Then again, the man sometimes had no filter.
Ruby and Yang tried to get back into the game, spinning the bottle and pointing at each other for who got to give the next dare. Then Marcus fished out a packet of playing cards from one of his satchels to which Nora then jumped on, insisting they play Caravan. Since the cat faunus was admittedly never really good with card games, she used this as a chance to check up on her teammate.
"You're gonna check up on Weiss, huh," Yang chirped.
Blake tilted her head. "How'd you know?"
"You're easy to read."
Seriously? Was she that easy to discern? "Look, I'll just make sure she's okay."
"Well, if you're going to do that, then we're coming along," Ruby said.
"But you're—"
"Sick?" The blonde brawler scoffed. "So are you, kitty cat. I mean, I'm feeling better now with some pain meds. And besides, it's not like Ice Queen's gone too far. She's probably sulking in an empty room somewhere."
"Yeah," her sister agreed. "We're A-okay to go walking around the lodge."
"Mind you don't stray too far," Marcus intoned. "I do hope you find your teammate as well. You're all under our supervision now that you've been confined her to the lodge for health reasons."
Yang shrugged. "We're not that sick."
"I can see that. But I suggest you adhere to Doctor Henry's advice. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to check up on the other residents so I trust that you all can handle yourselves from this point on?"
"We can," Ruby replied firmly.
"Team JNPR?"
Jaune likewise gave a thumbs up. "Looks like we're going to be here for awhile. Nora really wants to play Caravan so...yeah."
The super-mutant nodded. "Alright then. If you need me, you know where to find me. Oh, and if you happen to come across Lily, it'd be best if you continued your spin-the-bottle charade."
Charade.
Blake had a feeling that Weiss did not really like that word.
The Courier was halfway through secretly brewing his moonshine when he caught the blue lights flashing between the pine trees on the northeastern slope. For sure, a lot of the other super-mutants did so, too.
That ain't right. He peered through his binoculars and caught sight of something moving between the dense woodland. Okay, if that ain't some mercenary squad fucking around with their strobes, it's probably much worse. Goddamn. Could be something more serious than that. Shit. Worst case scenario, it's some scientific anomaly or some mutant thing... Hell, it's probably another trans-dimensional rift.
Six did not like the prospect of something from Remnant dropping within sight of Jacobstown. It was best if he dealt with this quickly and quietly before these super-mutants might get tangled up in this...assuming they weren't already. Goodness knows, Marcus had his fair share of secrets here.
Damn. At least, the kids are out of commission.
He quickly replaced his alcohol behind the dresser and started packing for a light excursion into the wilds. With an excuse worked out and a rough perimeter outlined on the GPS on his Pip-boy, the Courier then headed downstairs where Marcus was discussing the sightings with Keene. It took awhile to convince them to let him loose for this one—after all, Jacobstown wouldn't be risking much of anything if he went out to investigate it instead of a standard patrol. Goodness knows what it could be really: wasteland anomalies or something more belligerent that could be dangerous even to heavily-armed super-mutants.
The flashes were abrupt and sporadic, attracting a curious crowd of onlookers from the commune. Even Doctor Henry and Calamity were peering through the windows from the medical bay.
Great. So this isn't normal for this place.
Outside the walls, Six found a single set of bootprints snaking up into the northwestern face of the forested mountainside. They were irregular and showed that someone who was not entirely used to trekking on untrodden snow had been hiking up here hours ago. Interestingly, the boot size was similar to his own.
Okay, not a super-mutant.
Still, someone or something was out there. Revolver out, Six continued meandering up the slope until he reached a point on the mountainside where he could see the entire whole haven from point to point. Set against the sun going down, it was like witnessing a bastion of hope lighting up this dim apocalyptic hell-scape. Funny how vulnerable that fortress looked from up here.
Flash. Two o'clock.
Low rumble. Five yards out.
Resonant humming. Creak, creak. Crash. What the hell?
The noise of splinters—definitely timber being ripped apart—echoed between the trees. Now it wasn't just lights, it was also ejection of force. Something strong enough to fell a whole pine.
Doesn't sound like any weapons discharge I've ever heard of. Looks like something an energy-based weapon would do, though. The Courier watched and waited until he zeroed in on the location of the possible source: a small glen marked by a few twisted logs. A shape was moving around in the dark; twisting and turning, it looked like.
Hold on. This looks familiar. Dropping to a crouch, he made his way as quietly as he could, using the low shrubbery to conceal his silhouette, until he got a solid visual on his target. Is that...?
The person in the middle of the glen slouched into the snow, panting and sweating and leaning on her weapon for support. That was when she saw him easing out of the wilderness.
"Six?"
"Snowball?" Was this all you? What the fuck are you doing? Where're your teammates? Shit, are you alone out here? "What the hell are you doing out here?"
The look Weiss gave him was most unwelcoming.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: August 6, 2020
LAST EDITED: October 19, 2020
INITIALLY UPLOADED: October 6, 2020
NOTE: Six isn't perfect. And neither am I.
Glad to know some o'y'all correctly guessed the production I was referring to.