Death is expected by all. Yet even if life ends in death, it must not be without hope. Only then will the story of the life be treasured.
Awakening
Quiet.
A dull lifeless haze drowned all he could see in darkness. Dark formless clouds chafed against his body as Adam Taurus slowly brushed the sleep from his eyes. He blinked, staring out of the fogged-up window, his own breath misting the surface and making looking out of it an even more difficult endeavour than it already was. 'Still here… Damn it.'
So it hadn't been a dream.
He found himself in a luxurious compartment that was unlike any room he had ever been in. There were only a few seats, each one upholstered in plush leather. The compartment was long and thickly carpeted, with a long folding table, each corner embossed with a golden 'V'. His mask and weapons however, were nowhere to be seen. Whoever had brought him here had at least had the good grace to have given him a window seat—but then they were all window seats. And as things stood, it was hardly much of a blessing. The outside landscape was covered in snow and ice, rising to meet a pitch black sky as far as the eye could see. An endless monochrome void.
The rumbling of gears under his feet and jostling of his seat when he had first awoken had given him the answer to his immediate question of where he was; it had to be a train of some kind. The more pressing questions, that he thus far had yet to receive an answer to, and ones that caused him far greater concern, was, where it's intended destination was, and even more importantly, how and why he was here.
That was a matter that was unequivocally a cause for alarm; not least because he was trapped—he'd tried the only door, but it wouldn't budge an inch. Which meant getting out of dodge was priority one. The other passengers were certainly no help. Those figures he could see in the other cabins were bundled up against the blistering cold with scarves, hats, gloves, and high collared coats that obscured their features, sparing the faunus no mind as they sat silently around him, oblivious to all.
It was all he could do simply to observe.
Sometimes, the silhouette of one of the conductors would pass by his compartment, visible through the opaque window in the door, but they had yet to enter his cramped room, which by all accounts appeared to be locked from the outside. Adam had tried to start a conversation earlier as the conductors passed to no avail; none of them even glanced at his words, and he was left alone with his thoughts while he returned his gaze to the passing scenery. Or rather, lack thereof.
Releasing the heavy velvet curtains that hung on either side of the window, Adam sighed and leaned his head back against the ornate headrest, deciding to pass the time by doing something else than staring out at an empty expanse. To his dismay, he couldn't find his earphones and groaned silently, digging out his Scroll— at least that was still there. He found himself flipping it around with mixed feelings.
"I keep meaning to change that screensaver."
The picture was an old one. taken back when he'd first been promoted to captain in the White Fang. He had been nineteen, the youngest officer in the organization's history, and well on his way to being one of its most exceptional warriors. Trifa and the twins had thrown him a midnight party on the beach, and even Blake had snuck out to attend. Granted, she also couldn't handle her liquor for crap and got blindingly drunk within the hour, but Adam chose not to remember that part. Or the part where he'd had to carry her home, or that she'd thrown up down his favourite jacket…. Yeah. Maybe those parts were best left out of mind.
Who even gave her a bottle in the first place?
Adam looked down at the picture again, unable to resist the beginnings of a smirk.
The younger version of him looked terrified, his mask having been stolen from him as a smiling girl with blue hair pounced onto his back, her hands over his eyes as he lost his balance. Off to the side of the screen, he could make out Blake's ears as she stumbled out of the shot to vomit into the sand, and in the distance, the twins… doing something. And of course, there was Sienna, one of his oldest friends, the one taking the picture and predictably doing absolutely nothing to quell the ensuing chaos forever memorialised in that single snapshot of time.
He wished things had stayed that way.
Nostalgia was something he typically tried to avoid; he found thinking on the past an arduous task at the best of times. He didn't have many good memories of …. well, anything. If he was honest. His life had been one full of blood, violence and death from the second he had first taken his first breath, and he had known little else ever since. It was not a matter of self pity, but of simple reality. He knew no other way to live, and had neither the means nor the knowledge to seek another. By the time Menagerie and the wider faunus population at large had stopped swallowing Ghira Belladonna's snake oil and false promises of peace, Adam himself felt no injury to his own soul at plying what he knew to protect those that lacked the strength to protect themselves.
Even if he truly had been born damned, to know nothing but endless bloodshed, that was no reason to flee his curse. Because like it or not, he was good at it, and because of that, he needed to make some kind of difference. It had to have meaning. But some days, it got too much. He would let his anger, his endless depth of rage soothe him, a balm that would hold him together when he was knee deep in bodies and the memories threatened to overwhelm him, but it wasn't always enough. No matter what gains he made in the name of justice and progress, no matter how far he felt he had come, all he could truly remember was that which he had lost.
And that chief of all, was why he avoided the past like the plague.
Because if he ever stopped to think, about anything, he feared he would break, and that to him was unacceptable. Not with his men and countless others depending on him.
And he didn't see much sense in tainting the few good memories that he still had.
Adam turned the device over in his hand; it made a pitiful noise and died in his hand, the screen turning black before his eyes. With another sigh, he pocketed it again, tugging the corners of his jacket closer to himself as he turned his attention back to the window and the endless expanse of ivory before him. The only things marring the unnatural canvas on the other side of the glass were lonely, steadfast trees that weathered the seemingly endless blizzard in all their mangled glory, striped of deep black so dark that they seemed almost void.
But as he finally grew irritated enough to draw the curtains, he caught sight of something glittering in the folds of cloth.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Adam stood slowly, bracing himself on the edge of the table. Gently, he reached out for the material, trailing a finger gently along it in hopes of not disturbing that which had drawn his eye.
As he neared however, the glittering… thing began to glow brighter. Before he could react, it had fled the confines of heavy cloth, and was now hovering in the air. The sudden movement startled Adam, sending him sprawling back into his seat.
The light fluttered closer to his fallen form, perching on his knee.
Despite the shock of his fall, something compelled him to reach for it again as it shimmered.
"What are you?"
As if in answer to his words, the light drew closer to his outstretched hand, fashioning itself into a radiant blue butterfly. But before it could touch his skin, the little insect beat its tiny wings with all its strength, rising into the air again, towards the door, touching down on the handle.
A loud and unmistakable 'click' reverberated through the enclosed space, loud enough to rattle the windows, and jar the faunus into full alertness.
Had he just heard…
Adam was on his feet in an instant, his hand on the door handle in the blink of an eye.
"Here goes…"
He pulled down and pushed as hard as he could, and from the corner of his eye, Adam caught sight of the butterfly taking advantage of the empty space the door had occupied, flitting out of the room and through the doorway. He noted absently that the the velveteen ensconced handle that he had released in his surprise was emblazoned with the same golden calligraphy as much else in this location, and came face to face with pitch black void, blacker than even that of the sky beyond the window, lit only by the gentle glow of the compartment windows.
What a thought. The faunus took notice of the ravenous sense of danger gnawing at his own stomach, and instead of returning to sleep as per his original plan - the whiteness of the snow had bled into darkness with the night outside - The train whistled a low and deep sound, drawn-out and otherworldly in the night, the dim lights flickering once, twice, before Adam took in the narrow hallway extending into both directions, not knowing which one to take. Emblazoned everywhere were subtle insignias in the form of the same cursive V, with wreaths of golden leaf vines raking up in a semicircle around the symbol. It was quite pleasing to the eyes, if Adam were being honest, something about the gold and blue iconography of the train making him feel at least somewhat secure.
Like he was supposed to be here somehow.
Wherever' here' was.
Though that was hardly something he was going to figure out by standing stock still in the middle of an empty fancy hallway.
But where to go?
He clenched his fingers, trying to force the circulation in his digits to start running again.
The good news was, he only had a choice of two directions.
If he followed one to its natural end, it would lead him to the front of the train, and more importantly, a conductor, where he could get some answers on where they were going, why he was here, or failing both of those, stop the train entirely. In the other, the path would take him to the back of the train. That would; A: give him a chance to better formulate his bearings, and B-... well, he didn't think this was much more than a statement borne of a practiced fool, but there was the option of jumping off the train. If he timed it right, and got his roll down pat….
Anything was better than being in potentially hostile territory with no means of defending himself or escape, especially that with which he himself held no power over. But fuelling his desire to leave even more so, was the increasing, minor but ever pervasive thought…. that he may not wish to.
His thoughts were broken by the butterfly that had decided to flutter down from one of his horns to land directly and deliberately on the bridge of his nose, beating its wings with a gentle vigour.
He made to bat it away, but it dexterously dodged his palm, circling his head before landing on one of the golden railings that lined the hallway's numerous cabins. For some bizarre reason, he had the impression that it wanted him to follow.
Adam paused.
Absurd.
He sighed and turned away, before throwing a glance over his shoulder.
The butterfly seemed to pause with him, twitching it's wings expectantly.
It wasn't as if he knew which path would lead him to which end anyway. And if it didn't work out he could always retread his steps.
Taking a gamble, he turned left after it and followed the hallway, passing more compartments and sometimes glancing inside, seeing more warmly-dressed people sitting around; some were smoking, some playing cards, some seemed to be sleeping, all studiously avoiding the windows, Adam noticed with a sense of increasing foreboding. Not that he could blame them, really - the weather was awful to look at, the blizzard still strong in the pitch-void of the night.
As the hallway grew ever darker, the butterfly's wings glowed a brilliant blue, scattering light particles with every wing beat. It's wings lit an unexpected if unnecessary torch through the darkness to guide his way, Every time he slowed down, or stopped to look around, it would stop too, seemingly allowing him to sate his suspicion and curiosity with nary a hint of impatience before carrying on once his inquisitiveness had been satisfied.
The corridor was quite possibly without end, growing darker and darker with every step Adam took.
'You cannot flee forever, child.'
Adam's head turned — and quite sharply at that; he had not expected to be spoken to. He had tried to communicate with the others on the train before, but he had received no response— it had been as if they were deaf and blind to the world beyond them. The sheer surprise of actually being addressed directly for the first time in what must have been hours, if not longer; he had no way to accurately divine time in his current circumstance, was an ice cold shock to his veins.
He looked backwards, towards the way he had come, and saw nothing. Darkness had long since swallowed his path, and even with his naturally superior senses, he could perceive nothing. Not even the pale blue light of the windows that had illuminated his way shone anymore.
He turned again, and that was when he saw it.
The butterfly had gone.
And in its place, stood a giant mirror,
The antique looking frame was a dapple of blue and gold, the two of them woven in perfect pitch. It stood floor to ceiling, and there was no way to move past it
Adam examined it cautiously. His reflection stared back at him. There didn't seem to be anything wrong at first, save the sudden appearance of the mirror itself. Tentatively, he rapped the glass with his knuckles, and his double did the same. They both took a step backwards, raising a hand to their chins. Still nothing odd. Adam began to scrutinize the mirror further. It was almost like he was playing spot the difference. His suit jacket had crimson lining atop his red shirt, with red thorn sigils atop a black flap attached to the bottom of the left hem. All of that made perfect sense. Except, Adam realized, leaping back with a start, adrenaline flaring, there was something different. A few differences that should have been blindingly immediate, actually.
The first being that his reflection was wearing his familiar white mask. A mask Adam currently didn't possess. The second ,being that it carried a familiar sword at his side, an item belonging to him that had also been significantly absent since he had arrived. And the third? Well, if the supernatural glowing sickly looking light coming through the eye holes beneath the mask hadn't clued him in, the sickening ax-murder slasher smile that grew to fit horrifyingly well on his counterpart's face pretty much signed and sealed the whole picture.
"What the— who the hell are you?!"
"Really?" The doppelgänger asked, tilting his head to one side in disbelief. "We're asking stupid questions now? I'm you, of course. Which means I know everything about you."
The space between them seemed like a thousand miles and like nothing at all. "Spare me the horror movie nonsense! Tell me who you really are, and stop wasting my time!""
The yellow eyed Adam Taurus smiled. It was almost so friendly that it felt disarming. Disingenuous at best, and yet when he spoke, his reflection had a voice that felt like it was being tuned through various channels, as if there was a natural static that ebbed with whatever waves it was picking up, like a bad radio signal.
" I told you already. I'm you. I know everything. Which means I know just how pathetic you really are."
Adam never had a hope of seeing the attack coming. One moment, his reflection had its arms folded, clearly amused, and the next, Wilt's sheath met Adam's face, with such force that he immediately flew backwards. The sheer force of the blow was enough to send him to one knee, head reeling. A boot to the face knocked him to his back, and Adam struggled to push himself up as the being in the white mask approached.
"You carry yourself as some great and noble warrior, clothing yourself in honor and conviction. Fighting for the future of your people. Yet in your most private moments, when no one's looking, you look at the stars, wondering if somewhere out there in the wide and infinite cosmos, finally, is a place you belong. Truly belong. Somewhere you aren't constantly fighting for everything you have, where you have people you can genuinely put what little faith you still have left in."
The other Adam shrugged, malicious sneer still on his face.
"It's tiresome watching them, isn't it? Their tedious hollow friendships and petty sense of self righteousness. Do you honestly believe that you can change humanity? How many have come before you, with the same dreams, the same ambitions, greater and wiser than you, and yet every one of them fell short? It's because the task is impossible. They were evil pieces of shit before you were born, and they'll be ten times as bad once you're dead and gone. All you've ever done is stem the tide. Any 'good' based on a society of vermin is pointless, and any society that allows itself to fall to such a level, frankly deserves to be purged. Better to just undo all of it. Put a sword to all of civilization. Because why not? When a farmer looks upon a field and sees nothing but rotted crop, he burns the field and plants again. You have nothing tying you to this meaningless world. And yet you live. Because dying feels too much like surrender."
"Shut up!"
"So here you are. Constantly feeding into the presumption that you're oh so unfortunately unique. Nobody understands you. But the truth is you're the one who finds everyone & everything to be a pain in the ass. There's maybe five people in the entire world you honestly really still give a damn about, and none of them give a damn about you. And you're so afraid of being alone, of standing on your own two feet, that you won't admit it."
"That… that can't be true," Adam's left eye shut tightly, mouth quivering. "It's… not." He was now completely reduced to an eidolon in the face of this…. creature, this thing, that continued to advance on him, his pace as leisurely as he was taking a stroll on the beach. The space between them seems like a thousand miles and like nothing at all.
The doppelgänger observed his episode of panic and disbelief, staring down squarely at the young man with sadistic disinterest.
Adam staggered away, pain seizing him like a vice. "What do you want from me?"
Not-Adam blinked. "You don't deserve this life. So I'm taking it away from you."
The being that so delighted upon Adam's suffering and misery emitted a low rumbling laugh void of any humor, instead containing promises of pain and torment everlasting. He raised his sword, using the tip to tilt his counterpart's head upwards.
'Is this really how things are going to end?'
That was when it happened.
Adam could almost feel something spark within him, setting fire to his skin and urging him to go down fighting. His mind ran into overdrive. He had no intention of simply taking the beating lying down, like a dog. No one would ever take anything from him, ever again. He met his would be executioner with a cold glare, his single blue giving way to the fearless warrior that lay within.
"Come and try."
And with that thought, he lunged. He flung out a fist, striking his target squarely in his masked face with all his strength, causing him to be forced back. A crack reverberated through the air, the silence making its interruption permeate the still atmosphere all the more. A jagged fissure ran through the centre of the mask. A second crack sounded, barely audible in comparison to the first. Neither of the two Adams moved.
Finally the silence was broken with the sound of hysterical laughter, and the mask shattered for good, the pieces falling away into the darkness.
The face underneath the Grimm Mask was his own. He'd known that already. Nonetheless, Adam had not been prepared for the haunting golden eyes that lay beneath it. Or the way they twisted in joyous mirth as the doppelgänger held his stomach laughing, dropping his sword.
But what set this laughter apart was something different. This laughter was not mocking, or callous. It was genuine. The creature composed itself slowly, meeting Adam's eyes again.
"Good… That's very good. I like that. Hold onto that fire in your soul, boy. You will need it for the journey that lies ahead."
In a sudden spurt of blue flame, the apparition that wore his face was gone, and Adam found himself staring at another door.
He took a firm handle of the door and pushed hard. It gave way almost immediately under the force of his weight.
The setting changed for a second time .
Looking around, Adam wondered if he hadn't slipped back three hundred years in time.
It was an extraordinary sight. Oil-burning torches had been lit and the flames cast flickering shadows across the palatial room. The flooring and pillars were pure marble, decorated in what could only be hand-crafted tiles, with almost every spare corner of the room being filled with antiques and fine art. Servants, dressed in a similar color scheme to the conductors he had seen earlier, circulated with silver trays of food.
However, in spite of that, there were few people gathered in the expansive room. Most of the tables were empty, save a single central table near a raised dais. Two pairs of eyes locked onto Adam as he made his way over to it, situated next to a curtained window. Slow jazz music was playing next to the table, a pianist and a singer harmonizing a soft duetto, the pianist's eyes curiously bound by a matching blue cloth.
The aria had turned into something sorrowful and slow while Adam approached the two figures at the centre table, who eyed him with smiles that elicited a great deal of discomfort in the faunus.
It was a bizarre old man with an exceedingly long nose who spoke first. He had pointed ears and bulging, bloodshot eyes, and wore a black suit much like Adam's own. His gaze, set unnervingly on Adam, was full of curious mania and matched solely by the Stepford grin that seemed permanently glued to his face.
"Ah… how delightful. It has been some time since we last received a guest. Not least one with such an intriguing destiny.
Adam raised an eyebrow.
"My name is Igor… and I am delighted to make your acquaintance."
"What is this place?" Adam asked, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. "And how did you fit a room this big inside a train cabin?"
His partner, a golden-eyed woman, shifted her shoulders. "Your body in your reality is currently at rest. You are experiencing the Room through dreaming."
Adam looked around the room again. He noticed that the opulent bright blue curtains were swaying to and fro, swaying in an intangible breeze. "So none of this is real then?"
The woman let out an amused superior huff. "On the contrary. Just because you are dreaming, does not mean that what you are dreaming about is not real." She brought her finger up to tap her temple. "You can dream about real moments from your past, can you not? This is much the same."
The long nosed man chose that moment to interject.
"This place, as you call it, exists between dream and reality, mind and matter... It is a place that only those who are bound by a "contract" may enter... It may be that such a fate awaits you in the near future. Now then... Why don't you introduce yourself...?"
"Adam. Adam Taurus." Short, curt and to the point. It said much, without really saying anything.
Igor's Cheshire grin grew ever wider, as he appraised the new arrival, in a way that served to unnerve Adam. Hm... I see. A good name. The First of the Sons of Men. There's an irony to that, I should think. "
The woman spoke. Her tone was softer, far more melodic than her counterpart's, but also far younger, though Adam couldn't divine exactly how old from her speech alone.
"It is rare for those who arrive here to remember who they are in reality. Such a powerful resolve has earned you the power of the Wild Card. You are a jack of all trades… The Fool."
"A… fool?" Adam grimaced. He couldn't tell if the woman was insulting him by calling him a fool, but was too caught up in his own lingering pain and curiosity to deliver a witty remark.
The woman with the golden eyes smiled amusingly, "No, The Fool. Do not be deceived by the name, The Fool Arcana does not mean that it can be taken lightly. It is zero in the tarot deck, the void from which all things begin. You have already begun the process of awakening to your full power by confronting your Shadow."
Adam raised an eyebrow. "My what?"
"Your Shadow. Your true self that slumbers within you." She adjusted her glasses with a finger. "Shadows are the lowest parts of the psyche every mortal has... Suppressed human thoughts given will and physical form. When people are unable to face their darker selves, they break loose, free from all control. But sometimes, those with special awareness like yourself can tame their Shadows and..."
Igor spoke up, his low baritone causing the woman to withdraw into herself, forgoing any further explanation.
"Now, let's take a look into your future, shall we?" With a practiced wave, a deck of cards appeared, to be effortless shuffled between his hands. A bloodshot eye looked up from his desk, scrutinizing the disturbed and increasingly confused faunus. "Do you believe in fortune telling?"
Adam didn't answer. His mind still struggled with trying to process the information he had been given. Shadow? True Self? Did that mean that the things he'd said….?
"Each reading is done with the same cards, yet the result is always different…" Igor continued, chuckling. "Life itself follows the same principles, does it not?"
"Not everyone starts out with the same deck." Adam growled finally, shadows darkening behind his eyes.
Igor on the other hand, seemed unperturbed.
"Indeed. An interesting mentality…". He flipped one of his cards, before spreading the rest along the table cloth.
"Hm... The Tower in the upright position represents the immediate future. It seems a terrible catastrophe is imminent. The card indicating the future beyond that is…"
The long nosed man fixed his face into a hard stare and nodded, flipping another of the cards. "The Moon, also in the upright position. This card, in particular, represents "hesitation" and "mystery"... Very interesting indeed."
"Fascinating" Adam drawled, drumming his fingers against the table, sarcasm flowing from his tone like venom. "But none of that actually tells me anything of value. And that's assuming I even believe you…. Or whatever insanity has clearly taken hold of you."
The golden eyed woman, unamused by Adam's insolence, glared intensely at him, a gesture that would have proved far more threatening if she hadn't twisted her face into an adorable pout as she did so. It was like being threatened by a giant puppy, Adam mused, trying his best not to smirk. As for her companion, the faunus was hardly surprised that the man on the other side of the table seemed to ignore his words, fully engrossed in the cards. Even so, he couldn't say that the vague nature of his words didn't cause any degree of annoyance, particularly with how this Igor seemed to be so absorbed in his task.
"It seems you will encounter a misfortune at your destination, and a great mystery will be imposed upon you."
"Imposed?" Adam's eye twisted into a withering glare. He didn't much like the sound of that. The idea of anyone or anything even daring to impose something upon him was something that immediately raised his hackles. Perhaps it was still the lingering emotional effects from encountering his Shadow, as the woman had so deftly named it, but he couldn't help but feel slightly hostile.
"Indeed. The coming days can be considered a turning point in your destiny... If the mystery goes unsolved, your future may be forever lost. My duty is to provide assistance to our guests to ensure that does not happen."
With another wave of Igor's hand, the cards vanished in a flash of light, leaving only one, which perched precariously on a razor's edge at the tip of his gloved finger. The strange man examined it for a moment, before flicking into the air towards Adam, who caught it effortlessly on its descent.
"That card, your arcana, is a symbol of power, and proof of our contract. I'm sure you will be a most exceptional guest." Igor steepled his hands, his ever present Cheshire smile twisted into a frown. "Hmm. I could have sworn there was something else. Ah!" His face lit up again. "I have neglected to introduce my assistant to you."
"Contract?" What did that mean? He tried to search his memories, but couldn't recall ever signing anything. No, nevermind that. There was something more important to consider.
For the first time since he had set foot in the room, Adam's attention was fully drawn to the woman who had been standing behind Igor's chair.
"This is Glynda. She is a resident of this place, like myself."
Examining her attire, Adam quietly noted that she was dressed almost entirely in a shade of dark blue which matched the decor of the corridor, and of this very hall. She wore thin golden-framed ovular glasses, her light-blonde hair tied back in a bun with a single elaborate curl hanging down the right side of her face.
Her long-sleeved, pleated blouse, an elegant mix of black and blue, bore a wide keyhole neckline and gauntlet cuffs that flare in pleats at the wrist. Her lower body is covered by a black high-waisted pencil skirt with golden buttons and black fading into blue stockings.
To complete the ensemble, she donned a black cape with a royal purple interior lining, the cut being stylized in in a way that resembled flames.
Glynda, catching his examination of her, bowed at the waist, meeting Adam's eyes. It was then that the faunus once again noted her own, unnatural glowing golden eyes. Whoever, whatever she was, it most certainly wasn't human. Or mortal for that matter.
"My name is Glynda. I am here to accompany you through your journey."
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah, your boss kinda told me the first part already…"
Glynda at least had the grace to look embarrassed, her face lighting up like a firework, and an apology approaching her lips, before she thought better of it, huffing and turning her head, no doubt to hide her shame.
Igor continued with his ever present smile. "And these are our resident musicians, Nameless is our pianist, and our songstress here is Belladonna. Without missing a beat, the blindfolded Nameless looked towards Adam and nodded courteously. But Belladonna's name drew a shiver. The woman, noticing his shocked and gormless expression, winked a painted eyebrow at Adam, taking him off guard for a moment, before ascending into her sorrowful aria.
"Is something the matter?" The peculiar old man enquired with what may have been the beginning of mild concern.
"No… It's nothing." Adam shook his head.
Igor met his eyes for the briefest of moments, searching Adam's expression for a detail only he could ascertain, before he closed his eyelids and continued. "As I was saying, we of the Velvet Room have brought you here for a reason. As per the contract, you are required to face the trials of your future without fear and to forge your own destiny." He gestured to the other residents. "That is where our duty begins. We are here to provide you the tools necessary to succeed. The task-"
Igor's speech was interrupted by the abrupt sound of radio static, jarring Adam into alertness.
"Ah, but I believe we are out of time." The bizarre old man bowed in his seat. "Until we meet again, my dear young man."
The room started to fade. The wall began to peel away in layers, being stripped into a white canvas. The aria and the piano grew more and more distant, and even Igor and Glynda's forms were beginning to evaporate. Before Adam could say anything, they were gone, and gravity seized him in its ruthless talons.
He was falling, falling, falling eternally into an everlasting white void.
A familiar voice echoed sinisterly, "I am thou…"
"Adam!"
He awoke with a start, cold and clammy, shooting upwards and colliding hard with something, earning a very feminine yelp of surprise and pain.
Adam blinked trying to gather his bearings.
There on the floor of the tent lay Blake Belladonna, clutching her nose, and scowling in his direction. It didn't take Adam long to work out what had happened. Extracting himself from his bedroll, he quickly found his feet and made to help her up.
"Sorry about that. I was having this really weird dream an-"
His words were cut off by her suddenly tackling him to the ground, and seizing him with all her strength.
His first thought was that she meant to take revenge for the headbutt, and he was ready to defend himself, in spite of his grogginess, but to his surprise, the arms that came around his neck, were not to throttle him. Though admittedly, the force behind them most certainly felt similar. The hug was tight, but oddly gentle, and he could feel the subtle shakes that accompanied her sobs. Her tears ran down the side of his neck, and her emotion washed over her, flooding him with a sea of …grief? Relief? Protectiveness? Whatever it was, it was enough to keep him away from annoyance and anger, and thus, in his eyes, it was more than welcome. After a moment of uncertainty, Adam's hand slowly came up to pat her head, eliciting a low rumbling purr. He could feel her mumbling something into his neck, but it was muffled by both her long curtain of hair, and her refusal to remove herself from his shoulder.
"Blake," he sighed, drawing on what patience he knew he could still muster. "I can't hear you. You're going to have to speak a little louder."
"When I couldn't wake you… "She mumbled again, only marginally louder, but enough for Adam to pick up.. "I thought you…"
Adam's mind swam through the fog of sleep, trying to work out what the hell she was talking about. Finally, it hit him, and realization hit him with a sharp shock.
"Oh…"
There had recently been a number of bizarre incidents throughout the four Kingdoms, in which people had died suddenly in their sleep. Dubbed by the world media as the "Sandman Syndrome", several of the unique and brutal hallmarks were the secretion of a black liquid from the victim's eye sockets and their body undergoing severe atrophy that so far, had not been linked to any natural cause, giving rise to the more popular nomenclature "The Waking Death." Adam had seen some of the pictures on late night broadcasts; no description could really do them justice. The bodies of those ravaged by the condition barely looked like people anymore. And as with all disease, it did not care for age, gender, creed…. or race.
Several of the White Fang's Vale chapter's major operations had been put on indefinite hold or outright cancelled, due to an untold number of his subordinates either needing to take care of family afflicted, or because they themselves had fallen prey to it. Recruitment simply couldn't make up the numbers, so Adam had had no choice to re-evaluate his plans.
Sienna and Rowan, his second in command, seemed furious about this, but he stood resolute. Most of his men weren't true warriors, not in the way he and the others were. They were just faunus who had been battered down one too many times and had decided to do something about it. He trained them as well as he could, and pushed them hard, but it could never make up for a lifetime of experience. Even more so, he needed his men focused, and they couldn't do that if their minds were with their new-born child being torn apart by a deadly unnatural malady or their spouse suddenly dropping dead the previous night.
As much as Adam wished otherwise, he wasn't heartless. While he no longer had a family of his own, it did not mean he felt nothing for those who had pledged themselves to his cause, even if he couldn't truly connect with them. He held no grudges, at least not for this. The cause was an everlasting battle. It was here before he was born, and for as much progress as they had made since they had cast off Belladonna's chains, as much as it pained him to admit it, it would likely be here long after he was dust and worm food. But kin, family? They only had so long in this world. They were a prize to be treasured, and guarded jealously, and Adam could never begrudge anyone for choosing to be there for their final moments, instead of here.
Even if that was not a path he himself could follow. The cause was all he had. There was nothing else left for him, but his sword arm and his will. He would fall in battle one day, another nameless soldier in the endless war, destined to be forgotten by time. Yet he fought anyway, in the hopes that what he did mattered, to someone, somewhere. That they might have the life he never could.
Even lately, he had started to take more and more solo missions, distancing himself from both his troops and from Blake. He had seen the constant worried looks she would throw his way whenever he returned to camp, beaten and bloodied, returning to his tent without a single wasted word. He could never be sure whether she was scared of him or for him, but it scarcely mattered.
This was what he was good for. His purpose.
It didn't matter how much pain he endured, or how much he bled.
There were people trying to work on a cure of course. Mass media did their best to try and quell the hysteria the deaths were causing, not least to quell the influx of Grimm that fed on the fear of the lemmings. Vale and Mistral had sent several trillion lien's worth of funding and research to Atlas' best scientists, who were reportedly working night and day to provide a remedy. Central Command in Menagerie had tried to have Adam attack a few of their shipments, but he had again put his foot down. Killing Schnee pawns and corrupt humans was one thing, but stealing from the sick was a low even he couldn't debase himself to touch.
Some Atlesian eggheads theorized it was the work of an Apathy or perhaps a group of them, but that didn't fit, at least in his non-scientific opinion.
The symptoms didn't add up for one thing.
While it was true that they had the ability to use a scream that weakened their prey by draining their will, and that it worked largely through remote proximity, if the Apathy could see their target, the effects became much stronger.
But that was just it.
They had to hear the Apathy's cry in order for it to be effective. And yet, none of the victims had heard a thing, as proven by the fact that none of the people around them had either. Furthermore…. Well, Adam would be the first to admit most of the teeming masses were blind, stupid imbeciles, but he didn't think even they were ignorant enough to somehow miss the numbers of Apathy required to cause death on the scale they were currently seeing. No one was that wilfully ignorant. Except perhaps Ghira Belladonna, but that was beside the point.
No Apathy victims in history had ever looked like those of the Waking Deaths either.
So why would anyone assume the two could be correlated?
Moreover, from what he knew of Apathys, they weren't the type to pass up victims. Several cases, as he'd already thought, had multiple people sleeping together, yet only one of them or a handful at a time, had suffered a Waking Death, as it were. If an Apathy were responsible, they would have killed everyone they found, not just pick and choose a target as they felt like.
Simply put, it was quite the mystery, and Adam didn't think anyone was even close to making heads or tails of it.
He looked up to see that Blake had removed her face from his shoulder, and was studying him, unshed tears still in her eyes. His former apprentice looked forlorn, but was doing her best to hide it. He however, had known her far too long, to be fooled, and had just about reached his limit.
"Well, since the rumours of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," He remarked sarcastically, with just a hint of impatience, "I hate to ask, but would you mind letting me up? I do have a mission today, you know."
"You mean, we have a mission."
She griped , her tone tinged in defiance, as if daring him to disagree, and for the life of him, Adam couldn't figure out why.
It was nothing especially egregious, as far as he knew. He was to board a freight train carrying SDC product, and decouple it, with the secondary objective of trashing the prototype combat drone on board and retrieve the combat data chip. There were no human targets aboard the train according to intelligence, so it was a glorified heist at best. Give or take any complications, it was hardly possible for things to go completely FUBAR.
Typically he would delegate and send a team to perform the task, but he had decided to undertake this particular mission himself. There were several reasons behind that decision, not least because it would give him some much needed space.
The proverbial wrench in the works, however, was his dear protégé.
She had essentially forced her way onto this mission, in an uncharacteristic show of spine, that on any other day might have made him proud. Today however, it merely irritated him.
Did she really have nowhere else to be?
Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Blake, contrary to your beliefs, I do in fact know how to dress myself. If you'd be so kind as to leave, that would be great."
Suddenly, she looked up, glaring at him with all the strength she could muster, but Adam simply met it with a dead-eyed expectant stare. He was an international criminal, and the entire world hated him. The wroth of a seventeen year old girl was quite frankly the least of his concerns.
Seeing that he was entirely unaffected, Blake cast one last look at him with an unreadable expression and left. He rolled his eyes. Why he allowed that girl to take such liberties with protocol, he frankly had no idea.
He thought she'd gotten over that puppy crush on him already.
He sighed.
That was just one more problem he was going to have to eventually deal with.
Looking down, he noticed that his hand was gripping something tightly. As his fingers opened, he felt a shock of cold and his eyes widened.
Immediately, he closed them again, screwing his eyes shut as tightly as he could..
"'It's not real. It's not real, it's not real. It. Is not. Real."
He opened both his hand and his eyes again, slowly, as if to resist tempting fate.
The weight in his palm did not disappear.
Adam's mind raced. Suddenly the very foundations upon which his whole life was built had been shaken.
Because sitting, quite neatly, in the centre of his hand, was a somewhat translucent blue key, with a very familiar ornate 'V' carved into the flat circle.
Reaching the edge of Forever Fall hadn't taken too long.
Adam had to admit, as he and Blake moved between shafts of lustrous-gold light, and showers of dry red leaves, it truly was a beautiful place. The mountainous area had many cliffs, and hills; each the same dust-red color as the leaves and vegetation, and even the grass. The glory of the forest was revealed in the birthstone-bright light, as almond-brown trees stood serenely, awash with a tender glow.
Despite the lack of even ground, by all accounts the two were making good time, though Adam would be making better time if he didn't have Blake with him slowing him down. marching through the long grass, his ears perked up at the metallic, tinkling sound of a stream.
They were close now. He was sure of it.
Finally, the trees parted, giving way to the edge of a tall grass covered cliff.
Adam had chosen this position well.
The tracks ran right underneath the cliff itself, and the elevated position gave him a clear view of the horizon, which meant he'd have time to see the train coming and prepare. Obtaining the schedule had been no easy feat, but the intel from his sources had always been good, and he was perfectly capable of adjusting his plans as necessary. Additionally, his vantage point was close enough to the treeline that it would be near impossible for any train conductor, or sensors to spot him before his attack, especially at the speed the train would be moving.
All that remained to do now was to wait.
Boulders colonized the edges of the hill, buffed with pillows of moss, and, growing tired of standing, he moved to sit on one, carefully watching for his approaching target.
Throughout the entire hike, the key he had found in his fist when he woke up was practically burning a hole in his inner pocket. Every so often, both on the earlier trek, and in the here and now he would check for it, letting his finger curl around the cold metal, as if to remind himself of its presence. That it was real. Memories of the dream would come back to him in waves, and it was all he could do to compartmentalize, to not analyze all that he had learned. The Encounter with his Shadow, the Velvet Room, Igor and Glynda …. What was the truth behind all of it? What was the great mystery they were talking about? And what did those two want with him? Whatever the answer was, he suspected that the key, bearing the unmistakable insignia of the Velvet Room, held the answers. They had bestowed it upon him for a reason. Of that he could be certain. He just needed to examine it and find some way to figure out what that was.
Though his most pressing obstacle to that end was that he hadn't been able to get a single moment alone to do that without Little Miss-Can't-Mind-Her-Own-Business dogging his every step.
They hadn't spoken to each other the whole trip. Adam was too fixated on his Igor problem, and Blake, far too busy making her displeasure known by staring holes into his back when she thought he was ignoring her. Which to be honest, that much was at least partially true.
He sighed, watching from the corner of his eye, as Blake flounced into the tall grass, before crossing her legs and sitting down.
"I'm perfectly capable of handling this on my own, you know." He remarked quietly. It wasn't especially loud, but his voice had enough commanding presence for the girl 's spine to straighten unconsciously. "You don't need to be here, if you don't want to."
A childish growl was her only response. Adam rolled his eyes.
"If memory serves, I'm somewhat certain that I offered you indefinite leave. Several times." Adam continued calmly, looking out onto the horizon without turning to face her.
"That's not the point!" She hissed, ears flattening. " I was worried about you!"
He could feel her glaring daggers into the back of his skull as she opened her mouth to say something before cutting herself off.
What's that?‛ she asked.
He frowned.
She had heard the clanging of a bell. 'The gate crossing!' Adam realized, leaping to his feet. It was signaling the approach of the train, signaling the changing of the tracks.
The realization was followed by a second sound. The screech of a train whistle. It was still a mile or more away, but the silence carried the noise even louder than he had been anticipating, and he could feel it cutting into him. And then another sound: the rolling thunder of the diesel engine. It was moving fast toward them.
Underneath his feet, the ground vibrated more violently.
The time had come.
Rapidly approaching was a freight train, the freight train, traveling about twenty miles an hour. It had at least thirty train cars being pulled by a powerful engine. Adam cast himself from the bluff, grinding down the slope with practiced ease. He could hear Blake behind him to his left, but it didn't matter.
The train rounded the bend at breakneck speed.
But it would only be there a few seconds. He had to move fast.
Working entirely instinctively, Adam found a last mound of hard earth and, using it as a launch pad, catapulted himself up into the air. Now he was above the train ... now level with it. He shifted his weight and came down with a thud onto the roof of one of the cars. The surface was covered in condensation, and for a moment he thought he would fall off the other side, but he managed to swing around so that he was running along the roofs of the cars.
If he lost his momentum, he would be flung off the edge, and violently at that. As the train sped around to the right, centrifugal force threw him to the left and Adam barely caught himself, twisting his body into a deft roll, before landing loudly atop one of the freight containers.
An equally loud thud behind him told him that Blake had done the same.
With a single slice of his sword, Adam cut open the nearest roof hatch and jumped in, Blake following after one final glance to ensure they would not be followed.
The first thing the two noticed, was the darkness of the place.
The air seemed to hang in the air llike a frozen cloak, so much so, that even breathing felt almost painful, the miasma of tiny ice crystals seemingly freezing in their lungs which each intake of breath. As their night vision adjusted to the pitch darkness, Adam's sharp eyes, picked up something glistening against the wall. Moving closer was enough to give him a sign of severe alarm.
"Ice…"
It had spread over the entire wall, like some form of eldritch barnacle, forming serrated icicles that protruded from the flat surface like daggers.
Had some hapless human grunt been playing around with a Dust Crystal?
Adam wouldn't have put it past them. The number of times he'd caught his own recruits horsing around with valuable Dust was far too many than he cared to count or give voice too, so one could only assume how much dumber a human could be. Not that he believed anyone could quantify that particular threshold, but he digressed.
He heard a yelp of pain as something hit the ground hard. Adam turned, his hand went to his sword, only to Blake sprawled onto the ground.
"Would it kill you to exercise just a little care in minding your surroundings?" He hissed with barely restrained venom, irritation seeping into him further as he watched the girl shrink back from his outburst. Why was it the only time she seemed capable of manifesting a spine was when it was to intrude where she wasn't wanted, or to defy direct orders?
She made to retort, no doubt to summon an equally pathetic excuse, but seemed to think better of it, for once, keeping her mouth shut.
Good.
He was in no humour to suffer fools.
Not with what he could now smell now.
The scent of iron hung heavily in the air, and taking a closer look at the icicles, caked in heavily in patterns of red and brown, gave a fairly good idea why.
"Someone's been here before us."
Adam uttered quietly, now more conscious than ever of making as little noise as possible. "And there's a very real chance they're still here."
The area of floor near the door was iced over too. The bull faunus could only wince as the metal dragged against the compact ice in a low, dull scrape, as he pried the door into the next car open.
The ice in here was even worse.
It seemed to grow like an unnatural ivy, fusing to the metal cabinets and seemingly every corner of the room, like some form of living parasite. Bodies, metal and human were frozen solid in solid blocks, the latter's expressions warped in fear and pain as they had fled their attacker. "Clearly" Adam thought with a morbid sense of amusement, "to no avail."
There was so much blood. Frozen spikes of gore covered the walls, covered the cold steel floor. There was too much blood to focus on all at once, so much that you couldn't even tell whose blood was whose, which was also further muddled by the frost-covered cadavers lying all over the place in various distressing positions.
"What happened here?" Blake muttered under her breath, horror evident in her every syllable. She'd never had a taste for gore—she couldn't so much as gut a fish without fighting down the urge to vomit, but even he could see that she was handling this as well as she could have, given the circumstances.. In spite of his best attempts at callousness, he was about to offer her one more chance to go home, when the thought was interrupted.
"Intruder! Identify yourse-'' Adam launched his sword from its sheath, cutting off the robotic voice as his sword hit the offending android hilt first, knocking it's head off balance. He shifted, catching his sword as it bounced off his target, before lashing out with a single strike. A clump of steel and circuitboards that had once been the android's head clattered to the ground with a clang, bouncing across the icy floor before finally falling silent.
At least whoever had beat them to the punch had made his job a little easier by freezing the few tincans that could still function to their charging stations. But who could have done it?
Being in charge of the Vale chapter, Adam made it a point to keep himself abreast of the local criminal underworld, and he paid his informants well. It was very much a necessary evil of his work to know their goings on, their numbers, and their strengths, and their weaknesses, to plan his own operations around them if nothing else. The Spider Syndicate's Vale branch, their rivals, even Torchwick….. All of them had dedicated White Fang informants in their ranks, and all of them too braggadocious and foolish to know it. It was how he knew for certain that none of them could be responsible for this.
Torchwick and his midget partner fancied themselves phantom thieves; their work carried a certain sense of panache….. For humans anyway. They typically preferred jewels, but no high value theft was truly beneath them, and they would steal in such a way that there would never be a doubt of their handiwork, leaving both figurative and literal calling cards. Both of them were far more of the style over substance type. Wholesale murder of Atlesian Military personnel in such brazen and inelegant a fashion was not the brand of attention they would typically attempt to bring to themselves, even if the two of them theoretically had the resources and general lack of moral code.
That pretty much just left the Spiders. Their rivals had neither the organization, competence or resources to plan a heist such as this one. And it wasn't as if they didn't have form in the 'stealing Atlesian tech' department. Communications with the Mistral branch had reports of them regularly stealing valuable tech shipped into port, and reselling it for their own ends. Hi-tech armaments, armour, guns, mechs, hell, they were even selling cloaking tech now. That fact certainly lent itself to motive, for sure, but by all accounts, this wasn't their style. Even in Mistral, a place where they had far more influence, their typical MO was to simply pay off the dock workers and officials to "lose" a few crates in transit and then fudge the numbers. It yielded less product, sure, but a much more frequent success rate, and was specifically done to provoke the idea of the Atlas Military seeing them as too small of a problem to intervene with.
Why would they suddenly go for a far riskier route in a place where they had a far greater chance of failure, as well as risking the direct ire of Atlas?
It didn't make sense.
As he mused in silence, the deep whirring of large mechanical joints interrupted his thoughts, followed by the high pitched scream of metal.
He leapt away just in time just in time to avoid a giant robot landing where he was standing with a loud metallic clunk.
The robot was huge, barely fitting inside the enclosed train car. He wondered how it even fit in here in the first place, or how they could have missed it. This machine was different from the others that lay disabled and frozen around the munitions carriage.. It stood on four, spider-like legs, sporting two shoulder mounted cannons, along with two additional guns on its arms., and perhaps to give it an Atlesian flair, the murderous automaton had a red metallic finish to most of its armor plating, giving it an imposing, almost Grimm-like, appearance.
"Adam!" Blake screamed,
The mech didn't wait for them to have a conversation, however. It began charging its cannons just as Adam sprinted towards it. The ice gave him little traction, but he was still nimble enough to dodge the incoming cannon fire, making the robot focus its fire on him.
There weren't any viable options for cover, so the best he could do was use the enclosed space against it, keep it firing blind until he spotted an opening. Its head was heavily armored, so he'd never have the time to hack through the plating, without his semblance, which didn't have nearly enough charge to do the deed before those cannons turned him into confetti.
As if to prove his point, a blast tore open the roof of the car, narrowly missing him, and showering the ground in shrapnel and debris. Finally, he got lucky. As it was attempting to crush him under its spider-like legs, it failed to notice the weight of ice had made the ground brittle. As it slammed its limb down into the space Adam had once occupied, the hunk of metal blasted through the floor of the train car, essentially disabling its mobility at least temporarily. The scream of whirring gears reverberated through the enclosed space as it shifted its priorities to freeing itself.
Adam smiled.
Perhaps it was time to make that loss of mobility a little more permanent.
"Blake! Take out its front legs!"
She seized the opportunity and sprinted towards the mechanical monstrosity, making sure to avoid its fire once it started aiming for her. But to Adam's annoyance, and horror, instead of disabling its legs, once she was close enough she leapt upwards,no doubt hoping to attack its head and disable it. She would pay the price for her arrogance just as swiftly.
"Agh!" It backhanded her with one of its cannons instead, sending her to the floor with incredible force, where she bounced hard, and rolled towards the other end of the carriage.
"Idiot! What did I tell you about minding your surroundings?!"
Despite himself, Adam winced. That was going to leave a bruise for sure, even if it was her own fault. He knew full well she was entirely lacking in both stamina and physical strength, which was why he had given the order he had; her fortitude lay in her agility and speed, the ability to dance around an opponent until they tired. But they were dealing with a machine that did not slow, did not feel fatigue. Adam would have thought it common sense for the girl to deny the machine advantages that played directly against her own; he had trained her better than that. Why in the nine circles of hell had she believed she could cut through heavy armour knowing damned well she was so physically feeble?
A question to ask another time, it seemed.
The machine had freed itself, and was advancing in the unconscious Blake.
Stupidity, however, was not a fatal offence in his eyes.
Before it could get too close and finish her off, he appeared at the robot's side, landing several hits with Wilt, driving it away from its would-be victim.
He spared a glance at her to make sure she was alive, and was rewarded with a hard kick by one of the robot's other legs, sending him flying to the front of the car. He rolled as he landed, avoiding more of the robot's cannon fire. The crates behind him weren't so lucky, being launched across the train car under the robot's assault.
The blow was hard, far harder than he was expecting.
"Someone's been putting extra oil on their servos…"
He rose, shielding his fallen artery with his body and trying to regain his footing before it could press its advantage.
But it was too late.
The robot transformed its four guns into one large cannon, charging up a huge ball of energy and hit them dead on, sending them through the wall of the train car, and into the open air.
Adam was the first to recover. Slowly but surely, he crawled from the wreckage of the shattered crates and metal debris his body had just smashed through, his mind desperately trying to process what had happened.
That….shouldn't have happened.
He knew his semblance. Had years of training, and knowledge of how it worked. He absorbed, nullified the energy from an enemy attack and unleashed it in powerful red energy strikes; and though he played that card close to his chest, he could even use the absorbed energy to increase his speed and strength.
He had been counting on that.
He should have absorbed that hit.
The faunus was hit with a realization that made his blood run cold. There was only one conclusion that made sense. For a moment he couldn't breathe. It was extraordinary. His breath was stuck in his lungs and refused to get up to his mouth. His whole body was paralyzed as if some switch had been thrown in his brain.
His semblance was gone. Completely. Definitively.
He felt his aura, but the dark, overwhelming power that flowed through his veins, the power to return that which was dealt…. was gone. For the first time in nearly a decade, pure unadulterated panic began to swell in him.
"The… time…"
A voice whispered in his head, but Adam simply couldn't focus. An echoing voice, oddly similar to his own, yet somehow more refined, … It was too far away, like a distant dream… What little concentration he could muster was quickly broken by the loud clanking of the mech approaching them
The engine of death seemed to stop in its tracks, as the smell of something burning filled the air.
An eruption of ice echoed through the air, as a violent explosion of white crystals forced their way through the mech's chest cavity. With every second, Adam could see how the ice expanded , prying open the seams of the metal. The mech's front legs had collapsed now, and steam was beginning to escape the cracks on its body.
It's arms twitched, intermittently, the final lament of a dying creature, before it finally collapsed entirely
From the explosion of white came a being that was definitely not a Grimm.
Adam blamed what he was seeing on the concussion. It was the only thing that made sense.
Because standing at about three feet tall, on the twisted and warped metal chassis, was a snowman.
It had large beady black eyes, and a wide open mouthed smile, revealing two little barely visible fangs. But that wasn't close to the most absurd part of what he was seeing. On its head, it donned a twin tailed hood and collar, the latter bedecked with large golden bells. But the craziest part of all was the fact that it was somehow wearing little blue booties.
"Hi!".
It spoke with a cheery voice and innocent grin, seemingly uncaring that its hat was still smoking, or that it had just climbed out from inside a state of the art Atlesian battle mech, waving at the two faunus with over the top exuberance, practically bouncing on its toes in excitement.
"…Hi."
Adam breathed out, trying to manage his agony. Hallucinations were the last thing he needed right now. The wounds across his chest and back radiated unspeakable pain. as he tried to marshal some form of competency. Each breath he drew, caused deep waves of pain within his abdomen, he was sure he'd broken a rib. Or three. Dark ichor stained the corrugated metal under him as he tried to haul himself to his feet.
The snowman's cherubic face seemed to light up at being acknowledged, tapping his blue boots on the ground.
"It's nice to me-heet-you, ho!"
Adam's sword hit the ground first, falling from his stiff fingers, clattering to the ground. Colliding with the steel floor, he let out a groan, followed by a chesty cough expelling heavy flecks of blood from his mouth. He looked over at Blake's fallen form.
She hadn't moved yet.
"That's… not good." He spat, struggling to get himself back on his feet. He got to a standing position before his knees buckled, and he collapsed again. The only reason he knew she wasn't dead was because her chest was still rising and falling, but there was no way of knowing how long that would continue to be the case.
"So what brings you here, Mr Snowman?"
How he found the wherewithal for snark when he was in this much pain was something of a mystery even to him, but it was best to keep it talking for now. He allowed himself to breathe deep, allowed himself a moment of rest. He closed his eyes once more. He let his breathing pattern calm himself. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
In.
Out.
In.
A sharp pain in his chest and a cough broke up his calming technique, and a trickle of blood made its way down his chin, much to the amusement of the snow sprite.
"You're funny! My fe-heet, silly!"
It raised a leg and pointed to one of its blue boots, leaving Adam to wonder if he was in fact already dead, and this was his own personal hell.
A few moments of silence passed, as the two observed each other, only the rattling of the train and the wind beneath them serving to amplify the tension. Much to Adam's surprise, it was the creature that spoke first.
"I'm sad."
The little snow man folded its arms behind its back, his head downcast, as its wide toothy grin twisted itself into a frown. Watching its reactions, its mannerisms. The way it's facial features? Twisted, as though they had been caught doing something they shouldn't and were about to be scolded by an angry parent. They were those of a child. A toddler.
Perhaps a different tactic was called for.
Putting on his best child-friendly voice, and doing his best to control his sharp tongue, (and his bleeding) he asked.
"How come?"
"That I have to kill you. Like the other humans. Cause that's what Master wants!"
His mood seemed to swing the other way again, like a pendulum, but Adam wasn't focused on that. In spite of the danger, his analytical mind was breaking apart that errant sentence, disassembling it and racing to ascertain the context. The part about the other humans was fairly obvious; this hapless little menace was responsible for killing everyone else on the train. But from what he gathered, it didn't seem especially malevolent. Aside from the whole mass murdering part, but he was hardly in a position for judgement on that front. It was the mention of a 'Master' that really took his interest. That meant someone had put it up to this.
Could it be Igor? Some twisted test of character that he had neglected to mention due to the suddenness of his guest's exit from the room? Or perhaps something more malevolent? He desired proof of Adam's value, of his resolve? Or another party entirely could be responsible.
Whatever the reason, Adam despised enigmas, and the only way he was going to get to the bottom of this one, is if he got back on his feet, and got some answers out of the talking snow-child. Gods, that was an insane sentence to say….
He was halfway to doing just that when he was brought back to reality by the tapping of small feet on iron.
It was approaching.
"The time is finally at hand…" Adam gasped, raising a gloved hand to his head. He could hear it again…. Louder. Clearer.
Pain lanced through his head. Bloodsoaked hands clawed at his forehead, and he stumbled, gritting his teeth. The voice did not travel through air, but thundered inside Adam's head – his own voice for the third time, but distorted and deepened, amused, faintly taunting.
"How quickly you forget…I am the other you , dwelling in the realm of mankind's souls." It chuckled, though not unkindly. "You may have little knowledge of it, but I have been at your side for far longer than our last introduction. This world and the sea of souls that begat me have become one. Our conquest is at hand! I am thou, thou art I….Speak my name, and call me forth!"
Adam's hand closed into a fist. Taking hold of his blade in his other hand, he used it to push himself up, finally standing upright. Determination burned in his eyes, as he ignored his wounds, and readied himself for battle.
He smiled viciously as he held out his palm. His body began to burn into scarlet embers, tongues of flame springing into life in his bloody hands. When they abated, he was holding a card. The card. At once, Igor's words words washed over him again.
'That card, your arcana, is a symbol of power, and proof of our contract.'
His arcana. A symbol of power.
That was all he needed for everything to fall into its proper place.
"So that's it…" Adam laughed, a low chuckle that built and built until it became a full cackling fit. "To think it would be so,,,"
"Freeing."
A simple word, spoken in two voices that were one, with an incalculable amount of anticipation, was enough to set the power within free; the card evaporated in his hand. The flames that burned over him suddenly flowed behind him, manifesting into a towering visage. Looking up, Adam laid eyes upon something straight from nightmares. A towering humanoid figure floated down from the heavens, one sporting armor so dark he seemed forged from oil, a living, crawling darkness in contrast to the lustreless emptiness of his enemy's eyes. A black flowing cape stretched from his neck across his back, complete with glowing highlights and pupiless eyes of piercing blue flames from within a scarlet bull's skull. A pair of spiked manacles adorning their base of its broken horns, with trailing broken chains flowing from them. This magnificent, no, horrifying creature stood behind him, bearing a long glaive at its side. At the splintered and shattered end of its horns, instead of a single point, the same cerulean fire as that which manifested in its eyes, burned without end.
"Let us put fire and sword to all who would stand against us!"
At those words, Adam couldn't help but let a savage grin stretch across his face.
"Took the words right out of my mouth….."
Persona Compendium
Adam Taurus.
Persona: Mars
Bio: A god from a distant world. Mars was a god of war and an agricultural guardian. Mars represented military might as a means of securing peace, rather than the pure violence of his counterpart, Ares.
AN: I've recently started to get a little burned out on Red Moon, but I assure you, It's not abandoned. I'm planning on changing my upload schedule a little so I can release chapters more consistently. Red Moon is still my priority, but I had this one boiling in my head for a while, and it wasn't going to leave me be until I put it to page. As such I should hopefully releasing one chapter for this fic and Red Moon once a month, barring any personal crises yet to come. Please enjoy, and if you get a spare second, feel free to leave a review!