Chapter 3: License to Kill
All rights go to their owners.
Cover art by Ars Goetia Games on Twitter. Check out their twitter, or their games: The Blind Prophet, and Hellslave.
Talking: "They call me a drifter, they say I'm no good. I'll never amount of a thing."
Thinking: 'Well, I may be a drifter, and I may be no good.'
"Life out here is so different from the Vault. You know it's something I never wanted you to face."-James speaking to Alex at Project Purity.
Alex was hurt, badly. He was desperate for aid. What hurt him? What was after him? He couldn't tell, it was too dark, blending in with the shadowy concrete hallways that seemed to go on forever. He kept moving, don't stop, just keep moving. His heart pulses in raw agony, causing him to stop. The pain in his chest doesn't slow, it ticks repeatedly, like a thousand needles stabbing into his heart, over and over. He grips his breast, trying to will the agony to something more manageable, but it fails. A sudden stab of pain causes Alex to cry out.
*Click!Click!Click!Click!Click!Click!*
A Geiger counter can be heard, causing Alex to shoot his head up to the sound. He finds a figure in the shadows, standing not too far away. It stared at him. Despite the fact it wasn't very far, it was hard to make out the features of it, the figure just resembled a dark oily shape of a humanoid, but it was all wrong, twisted arms, misshaped legs, and a Cheshire grin that split the shrouded face of the shadow in two. Its mad grin was the only thing he could make out. Its teeth was bright red, blood coagulating on the fangs, chunks of flesh stuck to the incisors like Velcro.
Alex spun around, attempting to escape the monster in the dark, but the pain in his heart sends a massive shock, his body locking up as he tumbles to his knees, unable to keep himself up right. He was however unwillingly to let the monster take him, so, he crawls. His fingers stab into the hard floor as he drags himself along. The foul shade right behind him, walking ever so slowly.
Alex keeps moving forward, even when his arms scream at him to stop, even when he just wants to just stop, to hit the floor despite this he keeps moving. He spots a familiar person ahead. The raven black hair tied into a ponytail. The loose belt. The tanned skin tone.
Amata.
Alex dragged himself to her until he was mere feet away. "A-Amata, help me!"
She turns, facing Alex.
He open his mouth in shock. Her head was malformed, two faces sit on it with all the normal features of an ordinary visage. Four eyes look down at Alex, two mouths open. "I have to ask you to leave. I'm sorry, but the situation is just too delicate for you to stay."
What? "I… No, please. I need help!"
The two faces don't even blink. "I'm sorry, really I am, but… you can't stay, people still blame you and your father for what happened back then."
*Click!Click!Click!Click!Click!Click!Click!*
Horror morphs on Alex's face as the sound of the clicking is right on him. He turns to find the shadow standing over him, its grin widens before opening, the clicks become deafening loud. Its impossible mouth extending further then what was humanly possible, so much so, that Alex could see inside its mouth as if it was a fleshly container.
Inside he could see chewed apart gore,
a bloody baby rattle,
a dirty water bottle,
as well as various bullets and other types of ammunition nestled in its mouth.
Alex turns back around, trying to reach Amata one more time, but she was not even looking at him any more, she had just turned her back on him. He stares in shock, completely still, unmoving, as his words hitch in his mouth from the sight of abandoning him to the shadow. The clicks of the Geiger counter reach a thundering crescendo as the monster suddenly rams its spindly arms into Alex's back, grabbing his heart and-.
Alex shoots up in bed, his arms shaking from the adrenaline. He was back in his room at Vinves, he lets out a heaving snarl. He looks around his room, finding nothing. He was alone, in his temporary home. The thought of Amata and his old childhood home made his lips twist into a dark frown. Violent thoughts swirling around in his head.
Betrayal is the greatest killer of love. It can twist even the most purest and heartfelt love into something dark, something volatile, something broken.
His view of Amata had changed in that moment, every single showcase of affection was placed into doubt, did she ever love him? Was he just a suitable candidate for marriage and nothing more? It didn't matter, The love he felt for her turned into toxic contempt, the kind where you feel nothing for them but annoyance, when even their misery and pain doesn't even matter to you any more.
Alex shakes his head. 'Stop, leave it.' He squeezes the bridge of his nose. He buries his thoughts linking back to Vault 101, but like most things in his past, it gets stuck on the sharp corners of his mind, dirtying it like raw sewage pouring into his skull. He hated this, hated thinking about Vault 101, about Amata, because such thoughts should make him enraged, and in a way it did but something was always wrong with it. The anger was there but it always felt like it was miles away, it was so alien to him he couldn't even really remember what it felt like. It felt forced, like his brain tries to trick itself into feeling something but it just doesn't connect.
As if he was nothing more then an empty husk, emulating the echo of life.
He squeezes the sides of his face, he shakes it one final time as if the action would toss out his thoughts, but it doesn't. So, he just gets out of the bed in response. He walks out of the bedroom into the spartan lounge, taking a seat at the table. it was probably the only table in the entire building.
He pulls out his combat armour and plants it on the simple wooden table, as well as various equipment for repair. He starts the monotonous task of maintaining his armour, and his arsenal. Filling in the slash on the armour with his own epoxy. He takes out various guns, such as the Terrible Shotgun and Xuanlong and so on, carefully pulling them apart before cleaning and oiling all the important parts of the weaponry, putting them back together with experienced ease.
Clair Variia takes a deep breath. She readjusts her position, the ghillie suit shuffling as she stretches out her legs, completely flat on the ground. She watches the White Fang camp before her via her sniper's scope. Men and women, faunus and humans spread around the rudimentary camp, either sitting at the campfire, socialising with each other or performing duties of some sort. She spots the trucks with metal crates in the back, all of them strapped down to ensure that none fall off. Various labels and warning were plastered on the side of the crates. 'Dust shipment spotted. Now, where is the target?'
She surveyed the area, searching for her mark. Analysing all of the occupants of the camp. Eventually she spots her mark. A well-built male kangaroo faunus with the White Fang emblem tattooed on their forehead. The target can be seen with their arms crossed, speaking to human with a clipboard, right next to a large tent. Clair aims the scope over the tattooed faunus' chest.
Clair exhales then a second after, she presses the trigger. The shot echoing out violently in the forest. An orange shimmer envelops the target, the faunus activating their Aura subconsciously, it didn't matter. A second later, a tunnel forms centre mass of the target, the bullet going straight through without any difficulty. The faunus drops to the floor, the human letting out a shout as they drop the clipboard to try and pull the faunus away.
It didn't matter, in mere moments Clair pulls back the bolt on her rifle, the spent bullet flying out. She breathes in, then exhales out once more, pulling the trigger to ensure the faunus' death. The bullet pierces through with ease just like the first shot. Blood splatters onto the cold dirt. The force from the shot sends the human and dead faunus to the floor. The human points at the treeline, letting out a shout. He couldn't see her, all he knew was the general direction of the bullet.
Clair huffs coldly. She pulls back on the bolt and pulls out the magazine. Replacing it with another with a red strip covering the bottom of the magazine. She pushes it in until there's a click to which she pushes the bolt in, locking it in and priming the rifle to fire. She takes aim. Breathes in and then out, before firing. The bullet penetrates the sealed metal containers, the result? A violent explosion that nearly consumes the entirety of the camp, a brutal cacophony of fire and electricity.
Clair lets out a hum, unbolting the sniper, the spent round flies out. Clair grabs the casings, her gloves protecting her from the heat of the ejected rounds. She casually saunters off, the camp in blazes as screams and shouts echo into the night.
Clair walks up to her armoured off-road jeep. The whole thing painted black to blend in with the darkness. She opens her boot, planting the rifle inside its case before closing the boot shut. She gets into the driver's seat, puts the key in the ignition and drives off. Unseen, unheard.
Hours pass as Clair mindlessly drives, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding up her head. The sun begins to peak over the horizon as Clair can see a village in the distance. She spots the tall radio tower, upon the sight of it she pulls up to the outskirts of the village. Close enough to get maximum signal, but far enough no villager would randomly walk by her vehicle.
She opens the glovebox, pulling out a shoddy scroll. She opens it up to find full bars, she taps through her contacts then presses on the only saved contact. She sits there, scroll pressed against her ear. She taps the dash as she listens to the ring.
Eventually it comes to halt, a gravelly voice on the other end.
"Piercer, I take it the job's done?" The tone in the man's voice revealed he knew already what the answer was but asked for posterity sake.
Clair hums. "White Fang Hunter is dead, along with a large number of other White Fang members; collateral from the dust shipment explosion."
Clair could almost hear the grin on the man's face. "Trying to get a bonus, Piercer?"
She shrugged to herself. "It was the easiest way to deal with the shipment, besides, not like you care about collateral especially for White Fang."
"Too quick for the animals and race traitors in my opinion but I digress." A shuffle can be heard. A few moments later and the voice returns, speaking. "Other half of the payment's been sent."
Clair pulls out her own personal work scroll from the glovebox, far more clean and refined then the burner scroll. She swipes through and goes to her banking account. She spots the new 75k lien payment, sitting there in her account looking all pretty. She smirks at the sight of it. "Got it. Good doing business with you."
"As with you, we'll call you again when we require your services." The line goes dead. She puts her personal work scroll away. She deletes the saved contact before snapping the burner scroll in half, tossing the remains under the back right jeep's wheel. Better safe then sorry, she didn't want to piss off Iron Crown. She lets out a satisfied sigh as she starts to drive off, the snapped scroll crushed by the vehicle going over it.
Another day, another lien.
Ollie gives a warm smile. One knee on the floor as he sits at level with his granddaughter in her high chair. "Come on, say ahhhhhhh." He tries to place the spoon in the young girl's mouth, only for her to shake her head in disgust. Ollie lets out a huff, his smile still present. "No? Okay then, more for me then." He plants the spoon in his mouth, the warm porridge going down easy. He makes an exaggerated noise of delight. "Mhmm! Very good."
"Fueh!" The little girl reaches towards Ollie, her little fingers grabbing at air. Childish jealousy at the sight of her food being stolen.
Ollie's brow raises. "Oh, you want some?" The child nods with energy, her hands back on the tray of her seat. "Really? But you didn't want it earlier…" He trails off at the end, teasing the little monster in the high chair.
"Fueeeh!" She reaches out once more, her hands opening and closing. Her chubby face twists, as she appears to be on the verge of tears.
Ollie lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright. No need for waterworks." He gets a spoonful of porridge and delicately plants the spoon in her mouth. The child swallows the porridge with ravenous hunger. She slaps the table with all the might a child would have. Ollie laughs once more, grabbing another spoonful and placing it back in the maw of the hungry girl. "As greedy as your mother."
"I wasn't that bad." A warm voice calls out, a woman walks in. The features between the woman and the child were almost the complete same. Hazelnut hair and tanned skin, even a small amount of freckles dotting their faces.
Ollie snorts. "Sure you weren't."
The woman rolls her eyes. She moves next to her daughter. "You got a Huntsmen looking for you." A thin line on her face, worry clear on her face.
"Fu-." He stops himself, looking into his granddaughter's eyes. The child demanding more porridge. He lets out a sigh. Standing up, he hands the bowl and spoon over to his daughter. "What's the Huntsmen doing?" He asked, his face set back into its usual stoic nature.
"Sitting in June's bar, waiting for you." The woman gives a pitying look.
Ollie shakes his head, he gives a kiss on his daughter's forehead, as well as his granddaughter's. "Hopefully this one is drunk enough to not start a fight…"
He walks out of the kitchen, out the family home and into the street. A few villagers waving at him with warm smiles. He waves back, a fake smile to shroud the worry underneath. Huntsmen were a fickle lot. Mostly you would just get people who only cared for doing their job and getting paid, they never really bother with the locals. They just perform their duties, take their payment and leave. If you were lucky, you might get more altruistic individuals. Ones who truly believed in the protecting the weak and slaying the monsters of darkness. Then, if you were unlucky. You got some power-hungry, money-grubbing wolf in shepherd's clothing. They would demand extra, demand the entire village to serve their entire beck and call or even just abandon them in times of need.
Fortunately, the worst of Huntsmen were a rare sight but even still, Ollie couldn't help but worry that this one was going to be one of those types. He enters June's bar, and he instantly spots the Huntsmen sitting at a table. A battered red cloak that clashes with his grey dress shirt. The shirt hangs low, hanging off the back of the chair, partially covering the man's black pants. The most eye catching part of the man, that also marked him as the Huntsmen was the folded up weapon planted on the table.
The blade sections were sharpened to perfection, looking as though they could slice through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter. Ollie takes a mental sigh. 'Lets get this over with.' He moves up to the Huntsmen, the well dressed man taking a sip from his glass. Ollie takes a seat across from the Huntsmen. He's about to speak before the man interrupts him.
"You know, for a mining village; you guys got some decent booze." The man said, his lips in an easy-going smile as his eyes locked onto Ollie's grey. Ollie got a better look at the man. He has a rugged handsomeness about him, with his dull red irises that seemed to exude some sort of smugness and charismatic smile, and he seemed to know it, with the top section of his shirt open to the world, showing off his collarbone and the crooked silver cross necklace. His spiky black hair looked odd, his hair was unkempt like ruffled bird feathers but it suited him, along with the thin stubble on his chin.
Ollie blinks, he was a bit surprised at how this conversation started, but if the Huntsman wanted to talk about alcohol instead of pay then so be it. Ollie gives a shrug as he speaks. "Mining is a stressful job, and people want to unwind after a long day, and I for certain don't want hookers up and down the street, so good drinks are the result."
The man huffs good-naturedly. "Shame." He motions toward June. "Can I get another shot over here!" He turns back to Ollie. "I'll take my drinks and leave, unless of course you suddenly have another Grimm infestation?"
Ollie almost grimaces but keeps it buried. "Sorry, only had the one, which I already sent off the form to cancel, but y'know takes a while for things to get back to Vale."
The man chuckles. "Its fine." June plants a glass in front of the man. He takes it with a nod. "Thanks." He takes a swig, half of the glass already gone. He plants it back down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Although, if you put my drinks on your tab, I'll forget about the unlicensed merc you gave a headhunter bounty, and a Grimm bounty." He gives a sly smirk to Ollie who's eyes widen in shock and his lips turns into a frown.
"You know?" Ollie grimly said. Hopefully the Huntsman would keep to his word about not talking for a few drinks. Brothers know that if Vale finds out, they wouldn't be happy with him, they would instantly toss him out of the mayoral position, place a hefty fine on him, or give a sentence maybe even all three.
The man scratches his stubble. He answered with a nod, before speaking. "Problem with small villages like this? Rumours and stories spread like wildfire. A Grimmlander just walking into town, killing bandits one day and Grimm the next is quite the juicy story, especially when he turns out to be a fucking psycho that burns people alive."
"He's… complicated. I imagine living in the Grimmlands isn't exactly a cakewalk." He heard about the burning himself, apparently a headless carcass had a melted leg and torso. Ollie didn't know what Alex did to cause such burns, and he certainly didn't want to know.
The man hums in response. Taking one last swig of his glass before standing up. The man croaks out, "Best I get going. Got other bounties need to get to." He casually saunters off, leaving Ollie with the glasses. Ollie lets out a sigh as he stands up himself, deciding to check up on the resident Grimmlander.
He shouts out to June. "Put the drinks on my tab, June." She doesn't respond but Ollie knew she heard, what with her faunus hearing and all.
He steps out the bar, to find the Huntsman still at the entrance with Alex across the man, he was noticeably without his usual black combat armour, old blood stains present everywhere on his shirt. The two stare at each other, silent for a minute or so, eventually the Huntsman lets out a humourless huff, shaking his head. Ollie could see the empty smile on the red-eyed Huntsman's face, he walks off. Alex keeps his eyes on him the entire time, not even blinking for a mere moment, like an animal watching a potential threat.
When the man is out of sight, Alex seems to go back to normal, or at least as normal as a sociopathic mercenary can be. He takes alert steps over to Ollie, asking a question to the mayor when he gets close. "Who was that?"
"Huntsman, came here about the Grimm bounty you dealt with." Ollie said, kissing his teeth as he shakes his head. "Talk about bad fucking timing, the job listing was up for a week and a half and the moment we get someone else to do it, they send a Huntsman." The middle-aged man lets out a sigh. "Thank the Brothers that this Huntsman doesn't seem to really give a shit about not getting the job." And being easy to bribe to keep quiet about the whole unlicensed mercenary thing.
Alex looks off in the direction of the Huntsmen. "That was a Huntsman?" Ollie gives a nod in response. "What was that on his back?" It looked odd to Alex's eyes, the long thin red handle made him think it was melee weapon of some sort.
Ollie gives a shrug. "Probably his weapon, all Huntsman and Huntresses make their own weapons. Standard tradition, even for other Kingdoms I'm pretty sure."
Alex blinks. "Do they intentionally make all their weapons look like overcomplicated mishmashes of nuts and bolts?" It looked moronic in his eyes, exposed gears and segmented blades. Shove a knife into the side of it and those gears which Alex assumed allowed the weapon to transform into something useful, gets broken, unable to work, leaving you with a hunk of metal.
Ollie gives a grimace as his arms cross. "Word of warning, don't insult a Huntsmen's weapon, like I said most of them make it themselves, so they take pride in it."
'Why?' Alex couldn't help but wonder. A weapon was a weapon, its purpose was to kill, nothing more, nothing less. Sure he would get annoyed if one of his more unique weapons was lost to him, but that was more that the substitute weapon is generally worse. He shakes his head, 'who cares?' He speaks with his usual gruffness. "Is my license here yet?"
Ollie shakes his head. "Not yet, Should come in with the weekly shipment." He blinks at Alex, surprised to find him outside his temporary residence. "You hungry?"
Alex gives a simple nod in response, the two entered the bar. June's tail coming to a dead stop when she spots Alex walking in.
Days passed, Alex was getting testy. He was slowly starting to subconsciously get into a routine. He didn't like that. He wraps a makeshift plasma grenade in duct-tape, the wires sticking out. He sticks it to a kitchen knife, attaching the explosive to the knife's handle. He lifts it by the blade, feeling the weight of it.
There's a knock on the door. Alex looks up at the door and then back down at his makeshift explosive. He plants it in his Pipboy's inventory. He stands up, moving over to the door. He opens it slightly, peering through the crack to find Ollie standing outside. The man in his usual attire but with a small bag held in his hands. "Can I come in?"
Alex opens the door fully in response. The middle-aged man walking in, Alex closes the door behind him. Ollie stares at the messy table with a frown. The surface was covered in oil, grease and granules of sanded epoxy. He even spotted a needle with thread. "Brothers, do I even want to see the bedroom?"
Alex shrugs, moving over to the couch, which was also had dried blood splatters. He sits on the stained couch. "Probably not."
Ollie shakes his head with a sigh. "Whatever." He sits opposite of Alex, he pulls out a plastic card and plants it on the table. "Your bounty hunting license."
Alex picks it up, looking at the thin piece of plastic. His name plastered across the identification. He took interest in the stamp on the bottom left of the card. Light green crossed axes, a circle around it with laurels at the bottom.
Alexander Wyatt.
Bounty hunting license authorised by the Valian Court.
October 22nd, 1081.
"Keep that safe, kid. You lose that and technically no one is allowed to hire you." Ollie said. He opens up the bag and plants a bundle of lien on the table. "Here's your payment. 11,500 lien. 10K for the Grimm bounty, the extra 1.5 for healing Hans."
Alex tosses the license onto the table, looking at the payment. He didn't know why he thought it would be caps, this wasn't the wasteland, but someplace far more civilised and intact. Lien reminded him of pre-war money, which would make more sense then caps would in this scenario. He grabs a note, feeling the texture and such. It was thin and swayed in the air like pre-war money, however it felt nothing like paper, the texture reminded him more of plastic. Perhaps some form of synthetic polymer.
Alex looks up at Ollie. "I don't know the value of lien." He said, watching Ollie intently for any possible deception.
Ollie lets out a sigh, as he finger drum on the side of seat. Pondering in thought for a moment before explaining. "So, you stayed in this house for 6 days that would total up to about 2,250 lien."
Alex thought about it; 2,250 lien for 6 days meant it was 375 lien a day. A room at Weatherly Hotel would cost 120 caps, cheaper but it was a single room against an entire house, an empty house but a house nonetheless.
Ollie continued on. "A meal at June's is dependant on what you get really but for most people a full meal would cost them around 20 to 30 lien."
A meal of that quality would be worth thousands of caps in the Capital Wasteland, only rich assholes would have access to that, like Tenpenny. Even the large cup of water would be worth around a hundred caps, or at least it would have before Project Purity.
"What about guns? Like those guns the bandits had?" Alex asked, they may have been peashooters but the value would let him know if those guns were bottom of the dumpster or if they were your usual guns in this new world he find himself in.
Ollie shrugs. "Truthfully I have no idea, not cheap I would imagine. Maybe around 1,000 lien?"
A decent Chinese assault rifle would normally set you back around 300 to 600 caps. Alex frowns, he asked himself why he even bothered comparing the two currencies. There wasn't even a central bank or an average price range for most items in the Capital Wasteland, which resulted in the prices of all the goods being dependant on how the store owner felt it was worth, and what they thought about you.
You were some young, desperate vault dweller that just recently entered the Wasteland? 260 caps for some shoddy .32 pistol that if you were lucky could kill a radroach.
Now the big bad Lone Wanderer? Only 500 caps for a pristine Tri-beam Laser Rifle that could melt the innards of a super-mutant like nothing.
"What's the average payout for a Grimm bounty, or even bounty on a person?" Alex asks, if this was going to be his new line of work, it was best to at least get some idea of the payout for these types of jobs.
Ollie goes silent once more for a moment. "Really, it depends on the job. Bounties on people depend on how dangerous the person is. Most of the time bounties just want you kill the target. They don't really give a shit about capturing a criminal and holding them until they can finally send them to court, only for the criminal to get hit with a death penalty. You might get some special cases, like that one bounty, about… 22 years back? Some government official was fiddling with kids, when word got out, he ran to the frontier, trying to hide. The Valian Court wanted to crucify this guy publicly for some PR damage control, so they put out a high value bounty on him but the important part was, he had to be alive, dead meant no payment and possible murder charge pressed against you."
Alex frowns, his eyes held hate. "What happened to him?"
Ollie nods. "Fucker got caught, given to the court in a battered state and then, sent to prison. A week later he got killed by an inmate who wasn't suppose to be in his cell. Unfortunate mishap is what the guards said." The older man lets out a snort. "Good riddance for that scumbag." Ollie waves his hand. "Back to the topic at hand, like I said, capture alive bounties are rare, normally its for something political when it comes to Kingdom making a bounty like that, so generally you'll be dealing in corpses."
"What about Grimm bounties?" Alex asked.
"To start off, you get Grimm hunts, which are fairly simple, just kill a pack of Grimm that bunching up out in the open and job's done. Grimm nests pay more then your usual hunt but comes with more risk, as you know.-" Alex hums in response, the Alpha Beowolf would have killed him if he didn't move his head. "-Now you get bonus pay if the pack or nest has an Alpha, depending on what variant of Grimm too. Most dangerous job involving a Grimm? Elder hunt, but that's more something for elite Huntsmen, not mercs."
"Elder?"
Ollie gives a suspicious look. "You know, Elder Grimm?" Alex shakes his head in response. "You're a Grimmlander. How do you not know?"
Alex shrugs. "We don't call anything Elder or Alphas over there." Apart from Elder Lyons, but then again he's not part of his little group of shiny assholes any more, not after that incident with that squad of knights and the Underworld.
Ollie gives a hum, before speaking. "Right… well, you know how Grimm work right? the older a Grimm gets, the more dangerous it becomes? More intelligent, bigger, tougher?" Alex nods in response, he didn't obviously but it was best to just let Ollie believe he did. "So, you know that the average Grimm isn't really a threat unless its something like a Beringel or Brothers forbid a Nuckelavee. Grimm are like flies, they die in droves, they come back in hordes. Its the ones that survive which become threats, they generally live on to become Alphas, or as mentioned Elders." The older man looks straight at Alex. "Surely, you seen at least one Elder over in the Grimmlands?"
Alex shakes his head. "No, I haven't. Guess I got lucky."
"Suppose you did. Doubt even a Grimmlander could take on an Elder one on one." Ollie said, rubbing his chin. Alex thought about it, maybe he could? Couldn't be anymore dangerous then say a super mutant behemoth or a horde of reavers. Although he shouldn't be stupid and underestimate them, the Alpha Beowolf was smart enough to use ambush tactics, an Elder would be even more intelligent going by what Ollie said.
An awkward silence rolls in. Alex stands up, Ollie following suite. "Best I start going, I've been in one place for too long." He picks up the license and plants it in his pant pocket. He also places the lien in the bag brought by Ollie, he would place it in his inventory later.
Ollie gives a smirk. "A wanderer huh?" The man shakes his head. "You might have been creepy as fuck, kid. But thanks for dealing with the Grimm and bandits." He offers a hand to Alex. The wastelander staring at in caution before eventually grabbing it. They two shake and let go. "Good luck on your journey, kid." Ollie said.
Alex nods again in response, and exits the home. Ollie still standing in the lounge. The older man stares at the couch. "…Probably going to have to burn all this shit."
End of Chapter 3
Just for my sake, 1 lien equals 1 US dollar, would have made it equal to 1 pound but RWBY is from an American company, so I figure just make it a dollar.
Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review and I shall you in the next one.
White Fang Hunter: White Fang Hunters or more commonly called Hunters could be considered the Huntsmen of Kuo Kuana. Only the best and loyal fighters are allowed to join the Hunters. Those that do, gain Aura and superior weapons, as well as more respect amongst the populace of Kuo Kuana, and various other villages affiliated with the White Fang.
Back during the Kingdoms Revolutions, Iykos Bron and allies in suffering were given Aura by an unknown individual, sympathetic to their cause. This would be one of the major turning points, as Iykos and his group were now capable of striking back at Huntsmen now that Aura advantage was mostly moot. Through use of ambush and blitzkrieg attacks, they had killed a large number of Huntsmen, demoralising the Kingdoms while invigorating rebels. Their brands would become infamous, a sigil of death in the eyes of Huntsmen.
The brand which was forced upon their forehead by cruel slavers would become the White Fang emblem in a mocking fashion against their former slavers. Used to show how even the lowest of slaves could rise up against their oppressors and win. Iykos and his warriors would become the first White Fang Hunters, training more of their people to join the ranks of the elite group.
A Hunter is easy to spot due to the White Fang emblem being on their forehead as is tradition for them. However most younger Hunters instead of branding their forehead, tattoo the emblem on. This is supported by the new head of the White Fang, who says that the branding comes with unnecessary risk. Older members argue against this, as it is tradition to unite the Hunters regardless of race, and it is in remembrance of Iykos and his group.
This has resulted in friction between the old guard and the new upcoming generation of Hunters, despite this conflict, the two sides work alongside each other in the name of protecting its people and villages that stand with them.
Evolution of a Grimm: There are three stages of a Grimm, the first stage of Grimm could be considered adolescents, children still getting used to their bodies and the world. Mostly weak with a few exceptions dependant on what Grimm it is.
Alphas would be considered teenagers or young adults, their bodies begin to metamorphise, becoming far more stronger, tougher and most importantly more intelligent. They can begin to command packs of Grimm with rudimentary leadership skills. It it easy to differentiate from simple young Grimm to Alphas not just by size but by their bones, an Alpha's bones will be more grey, becoming darker and darker as time goes on, until eventually their bones are pitch black at which point they are considered Elders.
Elders are the final stage, the apex of Grimm. Their threat level is exponentially higher then any Alpha. They are monsters of raw power and cruelty, capable of easily slaughtering entire villages in mere minutes. Their skin allows them to resist most firearms, barring explosives and armour piercing rounds. Their strength increases even more so, to the point that even elite Huntsmen must beware taking hits from an Elder Grimm. The most dangerous aspect however is there intellect, which becomes comparable to that of the average adult.
Although most Elder have been noted to be solitary in nature, which is odd when compared with how Alphas quickly create packs to forward their plans of destruction. Some theorise that Elder Grimm dislike younger Grimm and have no desire to be around lifeforms they consider lower, there has even been a few cases of Elder Grimm slaughtering other Grimm, their reasoning is unknown.
The most dangerous Elder is one that is willing to command younger Grimm. Although these cases were extremely rare, due to the exceedingly low rate that Grimm reach the Alpha stage, let alone the Elder. This rarity has even increased with how aggressive Kingdoms react to Elders, with entire elite Huntsmen squads to eliminate the Elder. The aggression increases tenfold if said Elder is leading a horde of Grimm. Kingdoms have even been noted to work together to completely exterminate the Elder and its horde, utilising combat bullheads, landmines, or even suicide drones.