6: Hyperballad
It'd taken a few hours, but Little Red had finally fallen asleep. Roman took a quick look at his unwanted passenger and suppressed an irritated sigh. "Who asked you to come along anyway?" he muttered.
She was the one dumb enough to think it'd be a great idea to bust him out of jail before he could rescue himself. It wasn't as if he didn't have options. Shitty options, to be sure, but they were still options. Still, the girl's misplaced sense of heroics had saved him some effort, so he figured allowing her to tag along was the least he could do in return.
Of course, whether or not she got to keep that ridiculous weapon of hers was another matter. Damned if he knew how to use a scythe, but any fool could pull the trigger on a gun - and Roman was no fool. He reached over to relieve her of that particular burden, but his hand paused over the rifle, fingers spasming.
Don't kid yourself, that irritating part of himself that just wouldn't stop running its mouth off whispered to him. You need that girl with her scythe because you're a fool. A fool who's flying straight into Exsul to chase your backstabbing friend.
He openly snorted at that. "I don't have friends. Friends are liabilities," he muttered under his breath. He could almost picture Neo laughing at the thought. "Fuck," he muttered after a moment, and adjusted the course of the airship once he spotted the ruins he was searching for. "Fuck fuckity fuck fuck," he repeated as he eyed their surroundings, lowering the throttle to slow the Bullhead down. He forced himself to loosen his grip on the yoke. "Why the hell am I flying us straight into this Grimm death pit anyway?"
He imagined Neo's eyes following him, and gritted his teeth as he lowered the airship, carefully tilting the duel engines up to hover above the ground. He tried to focus on keeping the ship steady, rather than the fact that they were landing in a veritable nest of Grimm.
The ensuing jolt when he touched ground shook Red awake. "Wha- Huh? What happened?" Panicking, she made a grab for her weapon first, obviously relieved when she found it still attached to her belt. Then she patted her other side, and her face scrunched up. "What'd you do with my bag?!"
"You mean this thing?" He held up the cross-body sack she'd been carrying before he'd liberated it. Seeing her puff up made him chuckle. She's so easily distracted this almost isn't any fun. This kid has the attention span of a chipmunk! "I was hungry. By the way, thanks for trying to give me diabetes," he added as he powered down the ship. "Didn't you pack anything without sugar in it?"
Her expression didn't improve. "If you didn't like the cookies, you didn't have to eat them."
Roman opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. Hang on… her stupidity is catching. "Forget about the cookies, kid!" he exploded. "As you might have noticed, we're a little low on supplies. Hence landing here." He gestured expansively at the ruins outside the windshield.
Red sat up and took in their surroundings, dimly lit by the morning light. Her brow furrowed. "Where's here? Are we in Exsul already?"
"... you didn't study much at the academy, did you? No, brainiac, we're not even close to Exsul yet. There's the slight problem of an ocean to cross and a lack of fuel to do it." Unbuckling his belt, he stood and stretched. "Which is why we're here, at River Dell."
Copying him, Red also stood. "River Dell? Is that the name of a town? I never heard of it before..."
"It was the name of this town before it got overrun by Grimm. We're on the westernmost edge of the Kingdom, just below Vale City." Opening the hatch, he led the way outside. "No one's been living here for years, which is lucky for us."
"But if no one's here, how are we going to find supplies?" She shivered, one hand reaching for her rifle as they stepped onto the cracked asphalt. "This town feels so… empty."
Roman swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. I hate this place too. Wearing his best bored expression, he swung Melodic Cudgel over his shoulder and tapped it there, trying to ignore how empty the barrel felt. The kid from before might have managed to nab his weapon, but he'd conveniently "forgotten" to provide Roman with any ammunition - not quite the most comforting thought while stuck in the middle of a Grimm hellhole.
Fortunately, he still had his personal Grimm lawnmower on hand. He smiled at Red.
"Don't do that, you're creeping me out."
Little brat. "This town might have been abandoned by its good upstanding citizens, but not by the White Fang. At least, not until recently, when the Grimm got a little too tough even for those bastards." He watched the sun peeking over the horizon. "I used to use this place as one of our base of operations before… well, you know," he finished, stopping himself from bragging about Beacon's destruction. "With any luck, there should still be something left lying around the ol' cache. Hopefully there'll be enough Dust left to make sure we can get off of Exsul, too." His mood soured. "Though usually, I'd have grunts to do all the carrying for me." He inspected Red's toothpick-sized arms and sighed in irritation. "Your job is to keep the Grimm off my back. You do that, and I'll get us refueled and ready to be outta here by the time the sun sets."
"Oh," Red said, sounding subdued. For a moment he wondered if she was feeling alright, before deciding he didn't care.
She unhooked her rifle from her belt and hefted it in her hands, warily scouting the area. "We're clear to move for now… It's lucky the sun's coming up, because Grimm don't really like wandering around in daylight."
"No kidding, I never realized," Roman mocked, earning himself a scowl. He led her towards one of the less dilapidated buildings in the square. The door was boarded over, but with a well-aimed kick, he managed to break it open. "In here," he said, before realizing that Red was being too quiet. Usually at this point she'd be making a speech about breaking other people's doors down without permission or something equally inane. Stopping, he looked back at her; she was standing outside with her head lowered. "Are you coming or what?"
"I really didn't think this through at all, did I."
"That's what I said," he answered with a shrug. "Good of you to finally catch up with the obvious. Now if you could just step inside here," he added, resisting the urge to turn around and scan the building for Grimm. Nothing seemed to be scratching at the edge of his consciousness, but he wasn't foolish enough to let his guard down just because the little bastards were being quiet for once.
The kid wasn't, though. His eye twitched as she began to ramble.
"You know, I'm supposed to be a leader, but it seems like you've been the one doing all the leading since we left Vale."
Roman stared at her, bemused. Does she really believe I'd follow some kid around like a trained puppy? Me?
"Why do things always turn out like this?" she continued as she trudged in behind him, almost visibly oozing juvenile angst. "Is there some fundamental aspect of leadership that I'm missing?" Each sentence was getting higher pitched, transforming her voice into a nasal whine that made him want to take his cane and break it across her head. "Why do I keep failing like this?"
"Will you just shut up?" he finally bit out, exasperated. "I'm not here to be your guidance counsellor! Get your head on straight and scout this building for Grimm!"
"What the heck!" She snapped out of her self-induced misery quickly enough to give him whiplash. "Killing Grimm? Is that all you care about?"
"Well, pardon me for raining on your little pity-parade there, but… yeah?" He shrugged; academy kids were always a little thick. Still, though seeing her face turning as red as her cloak was satisfying, it wasn't in his best interest. "Before you bite my head off, just take a look around you for once. If we aren't ready for whatever Grimm might be waiting, they'll be the last thing you care about too."
Red regarded him with a sullen pout, but then took a deep breath and nodded once. "Good point. My feelings can wait, we need to survive getting through here first." She forged ahead of him, as though she'd flipped a switch, replacing the whiny emo teenager with the Huntsman-in-training he was much more familiar dealing with. For a moment he was struck by the memory of how she'd made a similar switch - although in reverse - to that boy who'd accompanied her to Beacon's tower.
"Well it's no wonder you're a crap leader," he observed as he followed her in.
"What was that?" she hissed, not bothering to face him as she tracked her visual search of the room with her rifle.
"You need to be ruthless if you want to lead. Nobody wants to take their inspiration from a wet blanket."
That did get her to stop and look over her shoulder to glare at him.
"Hey! You're doing fine right now," he added appeasingly. "But that's the difference. You don't show this part of you to the people who actually matter. Besides me, of course," he added with a smug grin.
"I don't want to be a ruthless leader. My teammates are my friends!"
Roman pointed with his cane towards a bar at the far end of the room. "Over there," he said. "And that's your problem. If you see everyone as your friend, you won't be able to send 'em to their deaths. If you hesitate over every tough decision you have to make because of that bleeding heart of yours, you'll never amount to anything."
She looked annoyed, but didn't bother with any retorts. Thankfully. I really am starting to feel like a goddamn guidance counsellor here.
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked, looking blankly at the wall.
"Down," Roman told her, sweeping away some debris from the floor to reveal a trap door hidden behind the bar. Leaning forward, he pulled on the latch with the handle of his cane and let the cover fall open with a loud bang. A cloud of dust rose on impact; it dissipated quickly, revealing a ladder leading down into a dank, dark hole.
The girl squinted. "What's down there?"
"Hopefully nothing," he told her. Then he bowed slightly. "Ladies first."
Red glared at him. "This again? Are you scared or something? What's the matter with you, anyway? Besides, since somebody destroyed my scroll, I don't have a light source-"
She stopped complaining when he pulled out the flashlight he'd been carrying in her sack and held it up. When she reached to take it, however, he snatched it away. "Sorry, sweetheart. This one's mine."
"Unless you find a way to power up this building, I'm gonna need that if you really want me to go first. Otherwise, you and your flashlight can be my guest." She crossed her arms. "Leaders need to make tough decisions sometimes, remember?"
Growling, Roman reluctantly handed over the light. "Don't try anything cute down there, or…" He drew his thumb over his throat with a menacing grimace. She looked unimpressed, ignoring him to hook the flashlight to her belt so as to keep her hands free.
You think I'm not serious? It was only a partial bluff - he really would rather have been sitting in one of Goodwitch's jail cells than exploring a Grimm-infested dungeon. This is the second-to-last place I wanna be right now. Don't push me, kid.
"Fine," she said, sarcastically holding up her hands, rifle still gripped in one of them. "Try to keep up." Then, ignoring the ladder, she hopped straight into the hole.
"Why do these kids love ignoring gravity and their kneecaps?" He reached for the ladder and slid down, choosing to go at a somewhat less breakneck pace. By the time he hit the ground, Red had already returned. The scent of exploded Dust rounds lay heavy in the air.
"There was a Beowulf down here, but I think he was a loner," she told him. "It's a little weird, though… without any prey around, usually they'd be moving into hibernation at this time of day. The one I met was agitated."
Closing his eyes, Roman listened, reaching out into the darkness. A few muted, unintelligible whispers reached him and his eyes flew open. "They never come alone," he corrected her, his voice cold.
"Well, it's not me who's pulling them towards us, so…" She stared at him.
"Get that light out of my face, kid," he snarled, striding forward and ripping the flashlight off of her belt. Ignoring her surprise, he turned on his heel and marched forward, trying to fall into his usual lazy swagger.
The voiceless whispers in his head wouldn't let him relax, though.
"This room is connected to a network of tunnels that we used to store supplies," he said loudly, drowning out the whispers. "I heard River Dell fell pretty fast after the Grimm swarmed. The Fang weren't expecting it so they shouldn't have had time to clear everything out. Which is good news for us."
Stopping before a large metal door, he pushed it open and peered inside.
"Umm…" he heard her say behind him as his flashlight panned over the ransacked room.
"Can it. This isn't the only room down here." By the time they'd inspected the second, third, and fourth rooms, however, Roman was cursing under his breath. Red's continued silence behind him felt heavy with the weight of judgement.
He stopped before yet another door and took a deep breath. The whispers were getting louder, starting to form into actual voices in his head. Stay, they crooned. He ignored them and swung the door open.
"Are you sure there's anything left?"
"Jackpot!" Roman gloated, triumphant. He turned, a smug smirk on his face. "What'd I tell you?"
Red wasn't inspecting the room for once; her head was turned, as though she was listening for something.
A momentary feeling of confusion overcame him. Can she hear them?
But then the kid darted forward and snatched the flashlight from his hands. She kicked him into the room with enough force to send the crates stacked there rattling. "Shut the door!" she yelled uselessly before slamming it closed herself, trapping him in darkness.
"I'm gonna wring her scrawny neck…" he muttered, standing and working the crick out of his back. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness - to no avail until he activated his Semblance, bringing the room into sharp focus.
The voices returned in that quiet darkness, louder and more intense than before. Hungry, they murmured. Kill! The dark felt suffocating; a bead of sweat rolled down Roman's temple as he backed into another crate, then sunk to the floor, shaking.
It was black, too black, and even his enhanced vision wasn't providing any relief. The darkness pressed against him, transforming into something pulsing and viscous. It was rapidly becoming too warm, and he tugged at the scarf around his neck, trying to loosen the knot.
"Calm down," he muttered to himself. "Breathe… they like it when you choke. Shit… breathe!"
A loud bang against the closed door made him jump; his eyes widened as the thick metal dented inwards in the shape of a claw, like a bad movie.
Then there was the sound of gunfire, followed by a wet tear. After a moment, the darkness receded, the static in his head dying back down to a faint murmur. The door creaked open, and he scrabbled to his feet, brandishing Melodic Cudgel.
His eyes were blinded by the bright beam of a flashlight. Blinking away his disorientation, he focused on Red, who stood in the door frame none worse for the wear. She flicked her arm and her scythe retreated back into its rifle form; by that time he'd noticed how annoyed she looked, as though she'd been forced to swat some fruit flies.
"You're not thinking happy thoughts are you!" Her tone was accusatory.
It was that absurd, high-pitched declaration that brought the first manic laugh out of him. Scowling, she chucked the flashlight at him and he barely managed to catch it through his mirth.
"What's so funny? Did you know how many Beowolves I had to kill just now?" She huffed, looking even more like a chipmunk than before with her cheeks puffed out. "Are you calling them here on purpose? What is wrong with you?!" She looked so put off that he couldn't help but fall into another round of uncontrollable guffaws.
Leaning on his knees, he managed to stop laughing long enough to look her in the face. "Listen, kid. From here on out, you and I, we're going to be best friends," he wheezed.
Red looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "I'm not like Neo," she said sharply. "I don't think I want to be your friend."
Wiping his eyes dry, he nodded. "No, you don't." Turning his attention to the crates, he pried one open using his cane. His grin narrowed as he inspected the goods.
"Dust rounds," he said, beckoning her over. "Restock your arsenal with as many of these as you can carry. And then some." Removing her bag, he tossed it at her. "Fill 'er up."
He didn't bother to see if she was following his orders, instead cracking open a few more boxes. "Useless… useless… trash… now hold on a minute." He cackled, throwing the lid aside and pushing away the rough padding to admire the crate's contents.
"What're you doing? We can't carry all of these back to the ship by ourselves."
"We don't need to," he told her smugly, reaching into the crate and pulling out one of the battle rifles stashed inside it. "Where there's ammo, there's guns. And this is one of Atlas' best," he added, checking its weight and balance.
Red came to his side, her eyes lighting up as she appraised the weapon. "That's an Atlesian SCAR, isn't it? Ohh, it's in compact form! Can you switch it? How many modes does that one come equipped with?"
Roman held the rifle away from her grabbing hands with a look of disbelief. "Great. Don't tell me you're a gun freak?"
"I built the Crescent Rose myself, you know!" It took him a minute to figure out that she was talking about her rifle-scythe.
I knew it. She must've been her school's resident nerd. Rolling his eyes, he relented and let her have a closer look at the rifle. "It's standard-issue military. Three modes: compact, heavy, and marksman. No special customization like that… thing you use," he added with a sneer.
"Well I knew that," she said with a small grin, which then turned to a probing look. "But how did you?"
"Hello? Arms dealer here?" He brushed off the lapels of his jacket.
"Not all arms dealers know how to use those weapons," she pushed, still scrutinizing him. "In fact, most people don't know how to use Atlesian military equipment. It's too complicated for a layperson. You only learn about that sort of stuff in the academies… or the army."
Ignoring her stare, he slung the gun over his shoulder and started rooting through the rest of the crate. "We need to find more ammo and something to fuel the ship," he muttered, irate.
"Yeah, the airship. You knew how to fly that too! That's not exactly street knowledge…"
Exasperated, he looked up. "Drop it, kid. If you're expecting me to open up and tell you my life story, you're in for a disappointment. Just concentrate on finding what we need and getting outta here before our little friends make a return."
She continued to observe him for a few more uncomfortable seconds, before shrugging and helping him search. "This… is going to take a while, isn't it," she said, peering into one of the opened crates with dismay.
"You don't say. Now, are you gonna help me lift this or not?"
.x.x.x.
Whatever Grimm may have remained in the town left them alone for the day; probably because Roman was much too busy trying to refuel and restock their airship to worry about talking Grimm. He was even feeling too harried to be annoyed at his chatty companion.
All the heavy lifting they had to do together was irritation enough.
"Just how many more of these do we have to carry over?"
Roman grit his teeth, adjusting his grip on the crate. "Don't you ever stop talking?" he puffed. "Keep moving! Jeez, this is why I prefer working with mutts over humans. At least they know when to keep their muzzles shut and listen to orders."
He nearly tripped when Red stopped moving, cursing as he scrambled to keep the crate - and all the volatile Dust inside of it - from dropping.
Red glared at him, an expression of fury on her face.
Sighing, he carefully lowered his end to the ground; she followed his lead, though her eyes were still stabbing him like knives. "I needed a breather anyway," he said, rolling his shoulder. "What is it this time?"
"Mutts? Are you serious?!"
"Oh," Roman said, bored. "I see, you think you're an "Equal Opportunist," huh? So sorry, I meant to say Faunus. Happy now?"
"They're people, just like you and me! How can you treat them like they're animals?"
He stared at her, uncomprehending. "Because they are animals! You've seen the Faunus. Are you really that stupid? Or is this just because you're friends with that cat bitch?"
She planted her hands on her hips. "Don't talk about Blake like you know her. In fact, I bet you've never bothered to befriend a Faunus before have you? Otherwise you wouldn't talk like that."
"If I wanted a pet, I'd get a dog," Roman told her crossly. "Can we drop this and pick up the crate instead?"
"You're such an idiot," she hissed.
Apparently not. He mentally prepared himself for a long lecture.
"How can you hate people you don't even know? You especially. You have so much in common with them!"
What? Did she just call me an animal? A chill, followed by a swift hot rush of anger raced down his spine. "... I have nothing in common with those miserable creatures playing at humanity. I act like I'm better than them because I am."
"Why are you so sure of that?"
"It's in our genes, sweetheart. Everyone knows humans are the top of the food chain." He scoffed. "No matter how civilized any Faunus mutt tries to act, eventually their animal side will show. Leave 'em alone for long enough, and they'll lapse."
Red didn't look convinced. "Lapse? Just how exactly can a Faunus lapse?"
"They'll act like animals if you give them half a chance," he hedged. "They're violent and stupid, and they'd wreak havoc on half the world if we let them have their way. Kind of like the White Fang is right now, eh?" His tone was smug, but Red's dogged questioning was making him uncomfortable. He'd never really had to defend his beliefs to anyone before - it was common knowledge in the circles he'd traveled. Humans were better. It was something you weren't supposed to have to explain, like asking why the sky was blue.
"Even humans act like animals when they're pushed into a corner. I thought you'd understand that by now." She was looking at him with those judgmental eyes again, just like she'd done three years ago, and he bristled.
"What's next? Are you gonna try to convince me that Grimm are people too?"
"For Neo's sake, I hope they can be."
His breath hitched. He thought about Neo's black-and-red eyes, thought about the whispers that plagued his mind, and something inside of him shrank back. If she knew… He imagined the kid, recoiling in disgust, reaching for her scythe to deal with him as efficiently as she had the Beowolves in the underground bunker.
Just because I'm damaged goods doesn't mean I'm not human, damn it!
Red, of course, noticed nothing of his internal struggle, instead reading his silence as his typical insolence. Sighing, she bent down and reached for the crate. "Talking is getting us nowhere. We can get back to arguing when we're not stranded somewhere this dangerous. Ignorant jerk," she added under her breath.
"Fine," he grunted, relieved that she'd missed his minor mental breakdown. Fuck you, kid, he thought privately, preferring the familiar comfort of anger to the nebulous feeling of self-doubt.
They finally broke for lunch when the sun rose high in the sky. It consisted of nothing more sugary-sweet rolls thanks to the kid's lopsided idea of proper nutrition, but he was still too angry to bother trying to talk to her - and it seemed she felt the same way, too. They continued to work in stilted silence, speaking only when absolutely necessary. When the Bullhead was properly stocked, Roman decided to catch a quick nap in the back of the ship.
Red had looked as if she'd wanted to argue about that, too. Considering that Goodwitch and the entirety of Atlas were out for his blood just a city away, he brusquely negated that idea and made a show of making himself comfortable. Whatever she thought of his actions, he didn't care - she wouldn't be able to run off without someone to pilot the ship, and she was too straight-laced to stab him in his sleep anyway. He drifted off quickly, the weariness of the previous day catching up to him in an unexpected rush.
The dreams that came were, as always, unpleasant. Strangely enough, it was the Faunus that chased him this time, rather than the Grimm. The little gazelle girl with her dead-eyed stare watched as her rhinoceros boyfriend slowly crushed him under the weight of his enormous body.
"You're no man, Mr. Torchwick. You're scum."
He woke sweating and gasping for breath - only to be met by two huge silver eyes, boring straight into him. Yelling, he slammed his head against the side of the ship as he jerked away from Red.
The kid leapt back in surprise too. "Are you okay?"
"What kind of a question is that? How could anyone be okay waking up to a face like yours?" He pushed his ruffled hair - and pride - back into place. "What the hell were you doing?"
Red's attitude turned several degrees frostier. "Oh, sorry. I just heard you whimpering like a baby in your sleep and thought maybe you'd caught a fever or something." She rolled her eyes and stomped away from him. "Should've known better than to try helping," he heard her grumble.
Nonplussed, he adjusted the angle of his bowler hat and smoothed out his jacket. "For your information, I don't whimper," he ground out. "Now stay in here. I'm going outside to take care of a little business before we leave."
"Overshare!" she shouted from the copilot's chair.
He shrugged, pleased with himself at having made her uncomfortable.
Five minutes later, he was feeling less smug as the whispers gathered in the back of his mind, pooling like stagnant water. His footsteps slowed; the Bullhead was still standing in the middle of the field like a ray of hope, but the whispers turned his head towards the dark of the forest beyond. Shadows rose there, flickering phantoms that beckoned to him.
Come, they crooned. Come home.
"Torchwick! What are you doing?" He was jolted awake by Red's call; blinking, he realized he'd been drifting towards the forest. He also saw, to his dismay, that the moving shadows weren't the product of his overactive imagination. She must've spotted them too, because she pulled out her rifle with a flourish.
"Ah, hell," he muttered. This time, at least, he had a real weapon - and the ammunition to use it. He activated a switch on his Atlesian rifle, switching it into marksman mode. Then, with measured steps, he eased his way back towards the Bullhead, tracking the shadows warily.
Stay, they whispered, and the first Beowolf made a move.
Roman didn't waste any time; his Semblance flared and he pulled the trigger, dropping the Grimm in one shot. The noise set the others off; they emerged from the tree line en masse, circling around the ship. He kept walking backwards and firing methodically, counting them off in his head as they fell.
He heard Red also firing her rifle behind him; they were still too far away for her to hit them accurately, and he mentally cursed her wasteful shooting; all she was doing was serving to rile the Grimm up even more.
"Give it up!" he yelled, turning tail and racing for the hatch. "If you're not gonna drop them in one, save your damn bullets!"
Red caught him by the arm, stopping his charge. Her eyes were wide, and looking straight into his-
"Shit," he grumbled.
"You're a Huntsman!"
"Are you kidding me?" he yelled, shaking her off and squeezing out a few more rounds at the encroaching Grimm. "Now is not the time!"
She glanced at the Grimm and seemed to agree. "How long is it going to take you to start up this ship?"
"Too long," he cursed, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Come back. "´They just came outta nowhere..." Come home.
She caught his arm again. "Focus," she said, her expression sharp as she watched him. "Stop panicking. Nothing's going to happen to you."
"Why are you so sure of that?!"
Her fingers tightened around his elbow. "Because I'm here." Then she let go and flashed him a victory sign. "Took down a Grimm dragon, remember?"
He stared at her, uncomprehending.
"I'll make it so we can take off. Start the ship up… and keep the hatch open this time, okay?"
"Your life, your choice," he finally said. "You really should've gotten me a ship with a gun."
Come back, the voices whispered in his head, more insistent. Stay! They multiplied the longer he sat still.
"We need to preserve our Dust, right?" Red's voice grounded him, and he blinked at her. "I can keep them off the ship without using my gun that much." She tapped one toe and then the next on the floor; he heard a soft snick and looked down to see a tiny, wicked-looking blades emerging from the heel of each of her boots. "You just concentrate on taking off." And then she was gone, a burst of rose petals slowly floating to the ground where she'd stood moments before.
He gawked for only a moment. "Is she insane?" he muttered, racing for the cockpit to start the engines. His fingers hovered briefly over the closure for the back hatch, before he decided to skip it.
By the time he looked up through the windshield, she'd already crashed into the pack of Beowolves at such a high velocity that she'd sent several of them careening through the air from her speed alone. He saw her rise above the pack, her rifle unfolding into its massive scythe form as she was twisting through the air. A circle, roughly the reach of her weapon, formed where she landed, an assortment Grimm limbs demarcating its circumference.
That didn't stop the others from surging towards her after a brief pause.
"Idiot," he growled, lifting the Bullhead slowly into the air. He couldn't help but glance back at the kid; she still wasn't using the gun, and two of the smarter Grimm had somehow managed to grab both ends of her scythe, trapping it. She hooked her arms over the handle and flipped, sending one Grimm flying with a boot to the face and the other two whirling through the air when she landed. Almost immediately another Beowolf rushed her; she ducked low and a spray of blood flew in an elegant arc along the path of her kick.
That was all Roman had time to observe, however; a loud roar snapped his attention back to the front. There was a Griffon flying directly towards the ship and he froze, the whispers suddenly flooding back full force.
Come back, come home, come!
His fingers reached for a trigger that wasn't there, but his throat was too dry to even curse. He watched, unblinking, as the Griffon reared before the windshield, its clawed feet reaching for him.
There was a thump, then a splash of red. Reflexively, he reached for the switch that activated the shield wipers, swiping away the gore. The Griffon was still there, but it was now missing its front claws, and Red was standing on its back. Her eyes were fierce as she hefted the scythe, bringing it down in a mighty swing that decapitated the creature. She was already leaping off of the corpse as it fell; she flipped, landing on his windshield before she pushed off into the fray again, leaving two red, dripping boot prints across the glass.
Shaking off his surprise, Roman turned the engines of the Bullhead. "Hurry up, kid," he muttered under his breath. "Don't get carried away." He rotated the ship slowly through the air, trying to get a glimpse of her. The sound of a gunshot caught his attention; there! To his left, below - she was firing the rifle to gain leverage, he realized, shooting herself into the air towards another Griffon. Everywhere she landed, they were falling, pieces of their bodies shorn off as her scythe cut through them. Then he realized the trajectory of her flight and swore, twisting the yoke.
The airship swung around, metal creaking in protest from the speed of his turn. He was rewarded with the sound of a loud crash as she came flying in through the open hatch. His fingers were already on the controls, shutting it behind her.
She joined him in the cockpit, flushed and breathless. "Can we leave yet?" she panted.
Roman was only too happy to oblige.