Chapter 2: Help I lost my team leader

"I get called an adrenaline junkie every other minute, and I'm just fine with that."

Robin's legs were on fire as he ran down the sewer. Part of his mind tried to tell him that splitting up the team was a bad idea. It's almost nothing against the roaring of blood in his ears. The thrum of his heart. Aura flaring, pumping into his tired legs. It is fire. It is needles through his body.

It pushed him on.

His eyes constantly searched the water as he ran. Looking for any hint, any slight bubble of air, the swishing of something, anything. His ears were strained, but he heard nothing but the blood in his ears, his heavy footsteps, and ragged breathing.

Why was he pushing himself this far? The thought appeared in his head, almost unwelcome. Why wouldn't he push himself this far? Who wouldn't go as far as they can to save someone they…

The realization invites another thought. What happened to not getting attached? To just floating through and getting out as soon as possible.

He shook his head as he ran; he didn't have time to think about that. Not yet. He needed to focus on something else. A slight scent of ozone tugged at his nose as he continued to run—a strange and foreign smell, entirely distinct from the almost overwhelming stench of the sewer.

It must be his brain playing tricks on him. He had to focus.

He had to-

His foot slipped as he ran. He found himself flying through the air right toward the water. It didn't take long before he splashed down in the water and felt himself being pulled by the rushing water.

His coat and breastplate dragged him down. The weight prevented him from doing anything more than just occasionally breaking the water's surface, and he couldn't fight the current.

The current kept dragging him down, down, down. He felt hands on him, his legs, his chest. They were pulling him even further along.

Finally, part of his mind supplied something to help him finish this farce. Something to let him go onto the Next Place, whatever that may be.

The thought lingered in his head. It was almost enticing. To give up now.

Something in the back of his mind snapped.

No. No. No!

This can't be how it ends. He couldn't give up without putting things right. Without fixing his fucked up life. Without seeing home again.

Aura flooded his limbs as he forced himself to the surface, just in time to see a hand grab the front of his coat and haul him out of the water. Dove, his mind dimly supplied as he broke the surface and was dragged onto dry concrete.

The two collapsed in a pile of limbs as Robin gasped for breath.

Dove broke the silence first. "You… are a fucking idiot, you know that?"

Robin let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough. "I may have been told that once or twice."

"Since when the fuck were you able to move that fast? And why weren't you showing in spars?" Dove questioned.

"I don't know, it sort of just happened." Robin shrugged.

"Well, warn us next time you have an attack of stupidity," Sky said as he finally caught up to the other two.

"I make no promises," Robin said.

"Good enough," Sky sighed. "Now get off your ass, we still need to find Cardin."

"Right," Robin slowly stood, getting his bearings again. "I wonder how he's doing."

[center]-2-[/center]

Cardin was having a very no-good, terrible day, and in his entirely unbiased opinion, it was entirely the fault of his strangest teammate. Robin Dubois. He had been able to beat off the monster for now, but the entire venture was doomed from the start, in his opinion. Sure, let's go into the sewer based on a rumor and urban legends. That's how totally ordinary people spend their time off.

It sounded like a way his Grandfather would spend his time, and he hated his Grandfather. Then again, it was only because of his Grandfather that he was alive right now, the tricky old bastard. Despite how shit he was as a person, he knew how to fight. Of course, his Grandfather's fighting style was meant to destroy people, not beasts. However, the old man might have disagreed. He shook his head, trying to dispell the distracting thoughts, just as the old man's voice sounded off his in head.

"In a fight, maintaining focus is the most important thing you can do," he would say while lighting a cigar as Cardin spat out blood. "Those faunus are wily creatures. They'll eat you alive when you let your guard down."

The damned fool hadn't ever let go of his time in the revolution, always sure the Faunus were plotting another attack. Cardin's father dying in a White Fang attack hadn't helped matters.

Cardin wasn't racist; at least, he didn't think he was. He didn't think Faunus were beasts; he didn't hate all of them, and he knew the Grimm were the real threat. His entire being at Beacon was proof enough of the fact in his mind. It wasn't his fault they couldn't take a bit of playground teasing.

Where was he going with this again? Ah, right, focus. A giant monster, isolated from dumbass team, nothing but his wits and his mace against some mystery monster that he hadn't ever seen before, not even in Robin's notebooks. Not the worst odds.

The sewer alligator rumors apparently had some basis in reality, but it was a Grimm gator, not a normal gator. Part of him wondered if it took the form of a gator because everyone was scared of the monster in the sewers being a gator. Maybe that was how most of the species of Grimm spawned? Fear of wolves created Beowolves, boars into Boarbatusks, and scorpions into Death Stalker. Who had a fear of birds, though? That was like the lamest thing to be scared of. Okay, maybe his theory didn't hold as much water as he thought it did.

Wait, brain, shut the fuck up. Ears are hearing something. The slightest splashing of the water. Getting louder and closer. He found that his body could often pick up the slack where his mind fell behind. And so it did now, aura flaring into his limbs, muscles tensing. His mace was sailing through the air when he heard the water break.

His mace smacked against the side of the beast's bone-covered face. Cracking it's face plate and revealing scaly hide underneath. The beast, which had been in the middle of a lunge toward his back, was sent reeling to the side, falling onto the concrete.

He could fully take it in for once, with it no longer lurking under the sewer water. It was large, with the usual bone-covered face that most Grimm seemed to possess, with beady red eyes staring out. Its body was covered in a thick, scaly black hide. Part of its tail seemed rotted away, with only a thin stretch of bone remaining. Despite its size, it appeared emaciated, with ribs poking out of its sides. Could Grimm even starve? Whatever the case, it seemed entirely intent on turning him into it's next meal.

Cardin vaguely remembered reading about alligators once or twice during a wikidive. Something about it's being easier to keep its mouth shut than to pry it open. Was he about to risk life and limb based on some dubious information someone online probably made up? Yes, yes, he was.

He put his mace to the side and cracked his knuckles. He can do this. He pulled in a deep breath. One, two, three, and he let out an exhale. Then he charged, with his mind for just a moment clear of all distractions as he put everything into this fight.

The Grimm lashed out, whipping his tail at Cardin. Aura and metal met with bone and rotting flesh as it struck him in the chest with a thunderous crack, but he wasn't idle as it hit and forced the air from his lungs. He brought his hands up to grab a hold of its tail as it tried to retreat.

Straining muscles fought against it's attempt to escape his grasp. At some point, he heard a distinct pop from his right shoulder, which caused him to grit his teeth in pain, but he didn't let go. Instead slowly dragging it closer to him. Once it's body was close enough to him, he hopped off the ground onto it's back. He reached for its head and wrapped his arm around its jaw, trying to prevent it from being able to open its mouth and bite him.

It thrashed and writhed on the ground, but Cardin held on, keeping it locked in a headlock. Right, he had it locked down. Problem, he hadn't thought of where to go from here. When in doubt, brute force is the way to go. He grabbed onto it's head and pulled as hard as he could. The creature roared in defiance, but Cardin didn't let go, instead yanking once more until he heard a sickening crunch and the beast slumped.

He stood straight as the Grimm's body began to vanish into shadow. As he stood recovering, he heard a gaggle of footsteps approaching. His team rounded the corner and stared at him as he stood over the rapidly fading monster.

"Took you guys long enough, didn't it?" Cardin spoke. "Why the fuck are you drenched, Robin?"

AN: Yeah uh, I ain't got really much an excuse for this one. I rewrote it like twice, and struggled with this shit for two weeks. And the end result is mostly filler. But I'm back! Hopefully gonna get onto better stuff now. Hope y'all enjoy, call out any mistakes, and as always have a wonderful day!