A/N: Yello, I brought the goodies. Sorry for the lack of updates, I wanted to make sure that the battles are on-point.
RhoMarck: Yeah! Dick jokes! They are only human, afterall.
konmek43: What are you talking about? Not so smoothly? NAHHH. (Don't worry about the length of the chapter.)
As night approached and the sun started to vanish on the horizon, Bemaia, who had just wasted his entire afternoon playing a card game with three old men, began to wonder what Weiss was doing while he enjoyed the trip.
He hadn't seen her leaving the room for breakfast when he first woke her up, nor had he seen her leave for lunch at noon. Something was up. Why waste the entirety of a trip locked away in their room?
Bemaia knocked thrice on the door and received no response.
He waited a moment and knocked thrice once again.
"Come in." Bemaia heard the muffled voice of Weiss through the door, prompting him to unlock the door and open it.
Weiss sat in one of the two armchairs, book in one hand, and a glass of wine on the other. "How's the trip been?" She asked, her eyes never left the hard-cover book.
With a loud exhale, Bemaia closed the door behind him, removed his shoes, and flopped face-first into his bed. "Productive." His voice was muffled by the mattress and blanket.
Noticing a disturbance in the air, Weiss' nose scrunched up, then she looked at the Librarian. "You stink of alcohol, go take a shower." Bemaia sighed, raising himself from the bed and walking towards the bathroom, then glancing at Weiss for but a second, "Aren't you too young to be drinking?" he said, as he finally registered what the girl was drinking.
That comment earned a small chuckle from her. "Since when do you care about that?"
Bemaia stopped in front of the bathroom door, right as his hand touched the doorknob, he froze in place looking back at the girl.
He noticed two things.
First, his brain turned to the book's title. 'Maybe you should speak with someone, By Violet Steele.' Humorous as the silly name is, the book seemed thick enough to hold at least three hundred pages or so. What's worse was the small line of text right below the title and author name. 'A Self-Help Book'.
It would be funny if it weren't so sad.
Why would she have- No, why would she need one of those books? Surely it's not to pass the time. A question for later.
The other thing, though of less importance to the librarian, was the fact that his business partner wore a white dressing gown, a pair of white slippers, and, apparently, nothing more. Bemaia's eyes immediately shot towards her white hair, untied.
His male instincts would have flared up, if not for the fact that Weiss' cleavage could be compared to the cleavage of a wooden table.
A fact Bemaia would not say out loud.
"Huh." He turned to the door and opened it. "True. Do whatever you want." He said, closing himself inside the bathroom, and locking the door behind him.
On the marble sink bench sat a surprise for him. A clean black suit, black pants, a white shirt, and a fresh pair of socks, neatly folded and waiting for him. "Did she..." He speculated who could have left those for him, but the only plausible answer was Weiss. "I suppose I should thank her later."
In the shower, the Librarian gathered his thoughts. 'So, Jaques Schnee.'
'The opinions about him couldn't be more polarized. The average Faunus sees him as a devil, while the people of Atlas think of him as a successful man who serves as inspiration. So far, he's responsible for dust in basically the whole world, has a finger in the transport business, in the drink business, and also creates requests for huntsmen. Still... Something still bothers me. My Fixer gut feeling tells me there's more to these loose pieces of info about him. I shouldn't fuck around, but I must find out. As it stands, he's as dangerous as they come. Resorcefull, inteligent. Folks like him are always scheming something. Addicting sodas, odd huntsmen jobs in the middle of nowhere, what seems like slave employment, and polarization of the people... Something's up. Should I just get this money and vanish? He seems to be the kind of person who doesn't let go of an asset he needs. If I sell myself as this great chef, I will be trapped within his game, and if I sell myself short, he won't even give me his spare change. I must find the right amount. Where he wouldn't be bothered if I vanished, and would be delighted to see me. Perhaps a chef for special occasions only? Maybe. I'll have to spew bullshit at him like never before. I'll ask Weiss what she thinks of her father, she'll likely have an unfiltered opinion of him.'
The suit prepared for him fit perfectly, uncannily so, it even had a hole for his singular wing to fit through. Did they get his measurements in some way?
After giving himself a few finishing touches in front of the mirror, Bemaia exited the bathroom, sitting in the other cushioned arm-chair, groaning in satisfaction while doing so.
"Getting old?" Weiss snickered, her eyes glued to the book.
But Bemaia paid no mind to her rude commentary and instead got comfortable in the cushioned surface his body rested upon, closing his eyes in the process.
"Hm. Maybe you are." She continued her mockery. "Try not to sleep there, Grandpa. Dinner's almost here."
Bemaia lazily got his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst massaging his eyes. "Can you not?" His head fell to the side as he spoke.
She did not answer, the paper flick from the turning of a page was all Bemaia heard. He sighed. "You spent the whole day..." He spoke, looking around the room for any sign that would suggest that Weiss did something else, but failed to. "Like this?" He asked, genuinely both curious and concerned.
Weiss blinked once and glanced over to the Librarian. "No." She spoke, taking a sip of her glass. "I did my daily workout, I ate plenty, and now I am relaxing."
The librarian nodded at her answer. "Fair enough, but why not leave the room? I'm sure there are some nice people out there to interact with."
The heiress stopped for a second, placing her glass of wine on the small table between the two, closed her book, and put it atop her lap. "You can't tell why? Maybe I overestimated your intelligence."
Bemaia lifted his head from the pillowy chair. "I have a few guesses." He then glanced over to her, as his arms rested on the armrest of the chair. "Which is it? Tired of boot-licking? Perhaps the crew wouldn't like you thanks to your father? Or maybe you're just socially awkward."
The moment Weiss' hands gripped the armrest more tightly, Bemaia knew he'd hit the nail on the head. "So you've figured it out. It doesn't take a genius to notice that." She said, confirming Bemaia's theory.
"The average Faunus turns their nose at my presence, everyone else treats me like some sort of goddess... I just want to be left alone." Bemaia took a deep breath, struggling to feel pity for the girl. "Let me guess, this is thanks to Jaques?"
Weiss could only nod her head. "Ain't this problematic..." Bemaia snarled, exhaling. "So, what do you think of him? Your dad, I mean."
The heiress took a few seconds to answer. "Gosh... Where do I begin?" She chuckled by herself. "Well, he made the Schnee Family the giant it is today, at the cost of our reputation..." She took a deep breath, becoming increasingly unstabilized due to the nature of the conversation. "I believe my father to be a horrible person... But his achievements are undeniable. I think that you and him are very similar in that regard, though you are far more reasonable."
"Ouch," Bemaia said, faking to be hurt by her comment.
"The things my father have allegedly done... He always assured me they're lies." Weiss reached for her scroll on the table. "I know they are mostly true." She then pulled up the menu from the train's restaurant and handed it over to Bemaia.
"Pick whatever." She said, getting up from her seat and going to her assigned wardrobe.
Searching for his dinner of choice, Bemaia stared at the girl, reminiscing about her opinions. 'So, she knows of some of her father's deeds but doesn't believe in a few others. Very optimistic of her. I don't believe she knows about some of the deeper things such as the Antarctic, and neither will I ask her about that. But...'
Bemaia quickly selected his food and placed the scroll back on the table. The time it took him was enough for the girl to vanish from his sight and close the bathroom door behind her.
'Maybe coming here was a bad idea... I jumped on the opportunity of easy money too hastily, without knowing most of the important details, and now Weiss is in a bad mood...' The comfiness of the seat reminded him of his purpose, as his eyes closed in reaction. A yawn escaped his mouth.
'Eh... I'll see it through. What's the worst that could happen anyway? It's not like I have bad luck with trains or anything.' Bemaia reassured himself as his mind drifted away into sleep.
Silence and focus, those two words were being practiced by Beacon's resident bald freak. His right and only available hand made precise movements with a sewing needle, as the overall cloth he worked on was held atop a table with his left foot.
His half-dozen eyes paid close attention to the job at hand, while his mind practiced a great deal of Aura control since any sudden activation could spell disaster for this project of his.
"Phew." Francisco sighed, stopping his tailoring for a moment to clean off any excess sweat forming on his forehead.
He decided to make his team's combat suits with two layers of Yellow Dust, that hardened in response to being bludgeoned and slashed at while leaving a Black Dust for an idea he had while he first designed the suits.
The headmaster had allowed him to dabble in the world of Dust infusions and even agreed to give Francisco just enough of the material he requested. Apparently, not a lot is known of Dust Infused clothing and Ozpin wanted the information, but couldn't be bothered to commission someone to do it.
So happy was he, when Francisco came in with this idea to make one himself. 'Why did Ozpin desire to know more about it?' Francisco couldn't be bothered to ask further.
*RING* *RING*
The silence was broken by the sudden and annoying sound coming from somewhere the Librarian did not know.
*RING* *RING*
This time, this hellish tune came in with vibrations in his pocket. Reaching for the source, Francisco put the ringing scroll on the workbench and watched it without knowing what to do.
*RING* *RING*
The damned thing continued to yell at him for a response. Francisco touched the scroll's screen and watched desperately a series of eleven numbers pop up brightly. A string of letters accompanied the numbers, sitting just above them, but Francisco was ignorant of the way of words.
*RING* *RING*
It screamed again, begging for his attention. In a frenzied blur, the librarian noticed two colored circles, the one on the left was red, and the other one on the right was green. Both had a white phone icon on the center, alongside a phrase on their side.
Afraid of the uncertain consequences that might befall him should he not do something about the yelling, complex yet compact, machinery called a scroll, Francisco pressed the green button to make it stop, uncaring for color theory and the common sense that 'Red' means 'Stop'.
The thing did stop, but something worse seemed to happen.
"Hello? Is this Francisco?" A voice came through the scroll, it appeared to belong to the Headmaster.
"Yes?" Francisco answered, holding the scroll with his right hand.
"Are you busy? I need to discuss something with you in my office, the sooner the better."
Well... He was somewhat busy, but he didn't feel like It was enough to justify declining Ozpin's invite. "I'll be there in a few minutes," Francisco said as the call seemed to abruptly end with no warning.
"Hm." Francisco made a mental note to figure out how to use this contraption later.
Francisco let out a tired yawn as the claustrophobic elevator took him to his destination. The moon was already up and high in the sky, so late was Ozpin's sudden request.
The elevator's doors opened, prompting him to lazily walk into the Headmaster's office.
Inside, the librarian noticed that Ozpin was not alone. To Francisco's right, there was the general, and to his left, there was Professor Goodwitch. The general had his back turned to him, preferring to gaze at the stars through the gigantic windows of the office instead, while Goodwitch locked eyes with the Librarian as soon as he stepped in the room.
"Greetings." The headmaster said, sitting behind his desk, between the two imposing figures. "How's the day been?" Ozpin asked with his ever-present friendly voice.
Francisco stepped forward, taking the liberty of sitting in the chair in front of Ozpin's table. "Productive." He said, groaning as he sat on the chair.
"Good to know, I've heard that you began training Mr. Arc, correct?" Ozpin's inquisitive nature got the better of him.
The Librarian nodded. "He asked for it, so I'll do what I can to help."
What he couldn't help, however, was the intensity of this room's aura. The pressure of Goodwitch's gaze, combined with the silence the general promoted, did a number on Francisco's ability to remain calm.
"As for the other project I'm working on, progress is going slow, but steady. I should have it finished before the festival." He added, feeling proud of his honest work.
Unfortunately, this meeting wasn't for these matters. "Tell me, Francisco," Ozpin spoke, pushing his round glasses against his head with his middle finger. "What's your favorite fairy tale?"
The general, upon hearing that, immediately turned around to face the librarian, making Francisco swallow in reaction.
"Well..." The librarian began, "I was often attacked by fairy tales back when I worked for L-Corp, so that made it hard for me to have a favorite..."
Francisco felt as though he was the main attraction in some kind of circus, as the trio had different reactions to him saying that. Ozpin cocked an eyebrow upon hearing that, Goodwitch scoffed at him, and Ironwood exhaled loudly, covering his eyes with his right hand.
"Still, do you have one that would be classified as your favorite?" He pressed the librarian, despite the absurdity of his claim.
"Hmm..." Francisco searched his mind for a proper answer. "It's hard to say..." So he decided to go with the alternative which gave him the least trouble back then. "I suppose... Wizard of Oz, then."
Ozpin cocked the other eyebrow at that. "Oz... Hm? What's it about?" The headmaster asked with innocent curiosity, while the other two waited.
"It's one of the few I managed to piece together once I was re-awoken in the Library. The Wizard of Oz is a story about finding the true value of having a home, for me that is." Francisco spoke with a sense of pride in his voice.
"It tells the story of Dorothy being sent to another world by a cataclysmic event. There, she embarks on a quest to find the wizard Ozma, alongside a few side characters she meets along the way."
Francisco chuckled to himself, unaware of the looks the headmaster was giving him. "I'm sure I'd have enjoyed it more if not for the fact that the Scarecrow would suck our brains through our skull, the Tinman would tear our hearts out," Voice got progressively more agitated. "the girl threw a whole house at me, the cowardly lion being a gigantic nuisance," His hand gripped his knee in an attempt to remain composed. "and the fact that Ozma turned me into a fucking pumpkin once!"
Ozpin couldn't quite understand how to deal with the information provided to him by the former librarian. 'Ozma?' He thought to himself. 'This is too much for a coincidence.' And, by the looks Glynda and Ironwood gave him, they thought the same as well.
"Sorry for the outburst... When the doctor requested my presence a few days ago, I fought the scarecrow again, and by the wings... That was agony. I hate that thing with a passion."
Ironwood raised his palm to get Francisco's attention. "I'll tell him to keep that in mind next time he uses it."
The headmaster managed to gather his thoughts well enough. "Did you learn something from that story?" He asked the student.
"I'd say so. It teaches you to find your own 'home' no matter where you are, and well..." Francisco looked to the side, feeling somewhat ashamed for what he was about to say, scratching his cheek. "I didn't have a proper 'home' until now... It's nice, even if I'm here because of the medical bills."
His expression softened a bit, feeling almost touched by Francisco's confession, if not for the fact that the story he just told him didn't feature a few of his contacts and even named him by name. 'The scarecrow... The tinman... The cowardly lion... Ozma... Dorothy...' Ozpin could draw a line to which person each of these represented characters, except for Dorothy.
As uncanny as that was, the headmaster still felt confident in Francisco's loyalty, though it also felt like he was about to commit a horrible mistake. "Do you think that story was real?" Ozpin asked, taking a sip from his white mug.
The former librarian shook his head. "I don't think so." He said, earning a frown from Ozpin, only to correct himself moments later.
"I know so. With excruciating detail."
Ozpin smiled. "Then, I have a favor to ask you." Francisco's face turned serious, frowning his eyebrows. "Is it in the contract?" The librarian asked, subconsciously raising gigantic red flags.
But Ozpin soldiered on, doubling down on Francisco's goodwill. "No, after all, It's a favor. If you accept, I'd be very thankful."
Francisco began thinking for a moment. Maybe he could get something more tangible out of this? "If you get me a sewing machine or a loom, I'd do anything."
Glynda, somewhat taken aback by his odd request, couldn't help but inquire about the nature of it. "Do you know how to use them?" That earned a nod from him. "I used to 'work' in the Index workshop, so I had to learn everything about the trade, from weapon smithing and crafting equipment to tailoring with uncommon materials. I can't say I'm good at it, since it wasn't my specialty, but I can say that I am competent at the very least."
The professor took that at face value, and turned to Ozpin, waiting for his response. "Consider it granted. I'll have it delivered by tomorrow morning." That was great news for him. With more sewing tools, he would be able to finish the month-long project in maybe a Week! And if he'd also get a Loom, the production of the dust-infused string he needed would be greatly expedited.
Francisco sighed with relief. "Phew! What's this favor about then?"
Ozpin adjusted his glasses, and took a deep breath, calming himself. "I asked about your favorite fairy tale because here in Remnant, a few are real as well." He took a sip out of his mug. "Have you ever heard about the Silver Eyed Warriors? It's one of my favorites."
Francisco promptly shook his head. "Never heard of it." Though that did ring a few bells in his head, after all, he did know of a little girl with silver eyes.
"Well, it is fabled that they are legendary warriors, protectors of justice, and banishers of darkness. They are extremely proficient at exterminating Grimm, or so the story is told." Ozpin explained, "They are all pure of heart by nature."
Francisco nodded, already seeing where this was going. "So?" He pleaded with the headmaster to get on with it. "There is a thing in the air now. An uncertainty. You've probably noticed it yourself as if something big is about to happen at a moment's notice."
Though Francisco did get what Ozpin was hinting at, it was all superstition. "First we find a terrorist base right at our doorstep, then we discover that someone got through our cyber security, and then Amber-" Ozpin closed his mouth before he spoke more than he should. "With the Vytal Festival already in sight, I need you to be one of my many fail-safes."
His eyebrows frowned further, an indication of how serious the librarian was. "This does not leave this room. Not even your teammates should know of this." Ozpin said though it felt more of a threat than anything. "Sure, sure. What do you need me to do?"
Ozpin's hand shook a bit due to already being on edge, but upon taking a sip of his trusty mug, he felt immediate relief. "Forces beyond our control conspire against us, and I fear they have their sights directed at Ruby Rose." Francisco exhaled loudly with his nose. "If the worst happens, let no harm come to her, would you?"
The librarian was ready to accept the task, but there was one lasting question that bugged him. "You're influential, don't you have anyone better to do the job?"
The headmaster shook his head. "We've seen how you deal with threats, you don't hesitate. You also don't seem to care about money or status, so it's nigh impossible to bribe you. Every other competent available huntsmen are needed elsewhere, and I can't trust most of them. So who's better fit for the job other than you?"
Francisco looked down to the ground, almost ashamed of something. "See, I've made a promise to her and her team that I would stop with the murder thing."
Ozpin's eyes couldn't be seen behind his glasses reflecting the ceiling's light. "So long as you chose her safety over a promise, I have no qualms against it."
Just before the crack of dawn, the winged librarian woke up in cold sweat, his black wing shivered with anticipation for something he did not know. As comfortable as his nap was, Bemaia felt horrible with an empty stomach.
'Did I forget to eat my dinner yesterday?'
Considering he was sitting down in the exact same armchair he napped on, it appeared to be the case.
Getting up from the chair, Bemaia opened the minibar with the faint hope that Weiss was nice enough to store his plate there. Unfortunately, he didn't find any plate there, but he did find some fruit, as the light from inside the refrigerating unit illuminated the room, alongside a faint yellow light originating from behind him.
'Wait, yellow light?'
Bemaia turned around searching for the source, but the yellow light appeared to be originating from behind him once again, even after turning around.
Moving only his head toward his wing, he noticed its eyes open wide, and apparently, glowing faintly, just enough to produce light string enough to serve like a low-quality torch. "Lamp?" He asked himself, knowing full well that there was no one on the planet capable of answering his question.
Shoving those questions away, he figured that not knowing would be more beneficial, Bemaia took whatever fruit his hand touched first, an apple, and turned to gaze out through the window of the cabin, opening the blinders just enough to see outside without perturbing Weiss, whom he imagined to be sleeping soundly right now if the gentle and steady sounds of inhaling and exhaling behind him meant anything.
Through the window he noticed that the sun was already out, not fully, however, and the signature morning fog of Autumn. A shame, he thought, considering he was eager to watch more of the scenery.
Speaking of it, the train's immediate vicinity felt somewhat out of place for him. "Wha..." He suppressed himself from vocalizing his thoughts.
Bemaia blinked and rubbed his eyes for a moment. 'Surely, this must be me being sleepy.' He told himself.
It was not just that.
The rails were not moving following the train's movement, in fact, it seemed as though they weren't moving at all!
'It's either the train moving too fast, or we've stopped in place.' The fog made it difficult to tell the difference. He could only discern which was which when a fly landed on a wooden part of the rail, that understood which was it.
'The train has stopped!' He finally understood. Call it intuition or insanity, but his gut told him that something was amiss.
The librarian reached for Weiss' bunk bed and tugged on her arm to wake her up. It worked like a charm, since the groan she let out sent a shiver down his spine. "Hey. Wake up." He whispered, "The train has stopped and I think something's up."
"What?" The heiress asked, thoroughly bothered by the rude awakening, getting herself out of bed and directly into the bathroom, still half-asleep.
"What are you doing?!" He half-yelled half-whispered. "Didn't you hear me?!"
Though, Weiss was unbothered. "It stopped, so what? I won't be able to get back thanks to you..." Bemaia heard her complaining accompanied by the sounds of bottles being opened and drawers shutting shut. "Now, I gotta get my hair right before I can leave..."
It was clear that the desperation of the situation was lost on her, but it was not lost on the librarian, who reached inside his appointed wardrobe and pulled out the silver-painted suitcase he came with his only luggage, and placed it on the nearby table.
Opening it, he pulled out a leather holster, which he promptly put on, alongside his belt, then, he pulled out his power arm, Reliquit Custodiam, and promptly strapped it to his right arm.
He then pulled out his beloved Honestus Finis and began to count how many bullets he brought along. "Twenty 'Roland' Rounds... What a name. I hope that's enough." He said to himself, promptly loading five of them in the hand cannon, and the rest, grouped with auto-reloaders for the revolver, were stored inside the holster since he had no intention of storing the actual gun inside.
Lastly, he took hold of all three of the Dust vials inside. One Red, One Light-Blue, One Yellow, and Three Black. He stored each of them inside his suit, but promptly put a Black one inside Reliquit Custodiam.
The gauntlet started to glow with a black hue, as the gravity dust inside made it lighter, for the skinny Librarian, to use without tremendous effort to even move it around.
What concerned him, however, was that Francisco handed over to him a Yellow Dust Vial. After all, according to him, using explosive dust on a blunt weapon, A.K.A Reliquit Custodiam, was highly illegal. So he chose to leave that for a situation most dire, even if his curiosity ran rampant with the reason behind the ban.
Bemaia quickly and silently made his way to the door, pressing his ear against it, in an attempt to hear anything behind it, but unfortunately, the insulation was too good. So got to his knees and lowered his head to see beneath the door. Again, no luck, nothing was happening outside the door's immediate vicinity.
"What are you doing?" Weiss' voice came from behind him, "Do you want to get kicked out for carrying your weapons?!" He didn't need to look at her face to know what expression she was making.
"What do you think I'm doing? I just told you something was up." He said, raising his body and attempting to take a peek through the door's keyhole.
"No. You said that you 'Think' something is up, and 'Think' isn't enough reason to arm yourself to the teeth!" Weiss said in an elevated tone of voice.
The keyhole proved too narrow to see anything through, so there was only one alternative that didn't include breaking the windows. "Where is your rapier?" Bemaia asked, showing great concern.
Weiss scoffed at the question. "At Beacon, inside my locker! Why would you even ask that? You're the weird one for coming here armed."
The situation was getting increasingly more dire. Bemaia cursed internally, and opened the door, slowly, pointing his hand cannon through the opening.
Scoffing at the boy's senseless actions, Weiss' face fell on her hands, as she turned tail and sat on the armchair, ready to call for room service, uncaring for wearing that same nightgown she wore during her first day at Beacon. "Please, don't get out there with a gun. If someone sees you, they are going to freak out."
Ignoring the girl, the librarian kept opening the door until he could see that there was no one on one end of the corridor. Bemaia then quickly jumped out of the room, pointing his gun on the other end of the hall, and sighing in relief when he saw nobody.
"Lock this door and don't let anyone in unless it's me. I'll knock five times, so you know." Bemaia ordered, as the girl simply stared at him with a vein almost popping out of her temple.
Uncaring for Weiss' input, Bemaia closed the door and went to investigate.
The wagon was eerily silent, with no movement aside from his chest expanding and contracting. The ceiling light flickered for a moment, but Bemaia saw nothing that could have prompted such a reaction. Both ends of the wagon were closed doors.
"Which one to choose..." In one direction, there was the lounge, and in the other were the employee's things. Bemaia turned to the direction of the lounge, opened the door to the airlock between wagons, and entered it.
The soundproofing of this place was nigh inexistent, so he was able to hear almost everything that happened inside the next wagon. Ducking beneath the door's window, Bemaia put his ear against the door once again.
What he heard was haunting for the common man.
"...Take whatever you can fit in your pockets..."
"...When you're done, stash it and return to..."
"...Economic class is done..."
"...Keep an eye out for a girl with white hair..."
"...Next is first class..."
It seemed like many people were talking inside of there, and it made it hard for him to pay attention to a single person. But it was enough for his suspicions to be proven.
Reaching for his Scroll, Bemaia thanked whatever gods Remnant had for he still had signal, and sent a few messages to his current Employer. 'We have been ambushed.', 'Send help.', and 'Will acquire more intel.' were the messages sent, alongside a pin of his current location.
He did not want to wait for an answer, and sheepishly raised his head over to the glass part of the door, and immediately figured out what was going on. He saw at least six adults wearing black & white uniforms with a distinct trademark on their chest and back. At least two of them had black sacks full of many items, but he did see one of them shoving a bottle of Henessy inside one.
Another text was sent. 'It's the White Fang.' He typed. 'I'll go greet them.'
The morning fog clung to the stationary train like a spectral cocoon, its tendrils weaving through the air as if to keep the secrets within the bar car confined to its metal casing. Within the dimly lit compartment, six White Fang members reveled in the spoils of their thievery. Stolen drinks, pilfered goods, and the echoes of their laughter hung in the air, creating an atmosphere of illicit celebration.
Little did they know, the tranquility of their clandestine gathering was about to be shattered by the arrival of an unexpected force.
Bemaia materialized in the adjacent wagon, his back adorned by a solitary black wing that seemed to bear witness to the unfolding drama. The dark wing's yellow eyes gleamed with an otherworldly awareness as if it held secrets untold. Bemaia himself, stoic and determined, stood ready with Reliquit Custodiam and Honestus Finis.
As the door between the two cars swung open, the stolen goods clattered to a sudden halt, and the revelry transformed into uneasy silence. The six Faunus caught off guard, turned to face the intruder. Bemaia, his gaze unwavering, stepped into the bar car, the ominous hum of Reliquit Custodiam filling the space with an eerie resonance. The fog outside seemed to thicken in anticipation as if nature itself sensed the impending clash.
"Who the hell are you?" sneered a wolf Faunus, his twisted grin revealing a hint of feral aggression. Bemaia met their collective gaze.
"You're the ones who stopped this train, aren't you?" Bemaia's words, more statement than a question, carried the weight of a long-held conviction. The White Fang members exchanged wary glances, the fog outside mirroring the tension within the wagon.
"What's it to you?" retorted the wolf Faunus, defiance etched across his features. Honestus Finis, cradled in Bemaia's left hand, discharged its first shot directed towards the ceiling. A warning shot, one he never did before. The bullet, a harbinger of destruction, sliced through the air, a promise of grievous harm to any who stood in its path.
The bar car, once a sanctuary of stolen delights, transformed into an arena. Bemaia's wing unfurled with an eerie grace as he stepped forward, his resolve unwavering.
The White Fang members, now fully aware of the intruder's intent, readied themselves to defend their ill-gotten gains. The stage was set for a dance of shadows and steel, a conflict that would play out in the murky embrace of the autumn fog.
NOW PLAYING: [Limbus Company - Canto III Battle Theme A1]
The echoes of Honestus Finis' shot reverberated through the bar car, signaling the commencement of a clandestine ballet between a lone librarian and six White Fang members. The fog outside seemed to thicken further, as if nature itself held its breath, awaiting the outcome of this enigmatic encounter.
The wolf Faunus, the leader in this impromptu dance, responded with a snarl. "You've got a death wish, coming in here like that!" His hand reached for a weapon on his belt, a crude sword that gleamed ominously in the dim light. The others, their eyes reflecting a mix of fear and determination, fumbled for their weapons – makeshift metal clubs, stolen firearms, and crude blades made with metal sheets.
Their weapons were a reflection of their poverty, earning a smirk from the librarian. 'Who would have thought that no one would sponsor an organization that targets people with actual money.' he thought to himself.
Bemaia, unfazed by their threats, let Reliquit Custodiam unleash its might. The gauntlet, wreathed in an ethereal glow, collided with a stolen crate one of the Faunus wielded as a makeshift shield. The impact shattered the crate and sent its owner staggering backward, a yelp of pain escaping his lips with the sickening cracking sound of his ribs shattering on contact with the librarian.
Meanwhile, Honestus Finis found its mark. A precise shot severed the sword-wielding arm of another Faunus, a spurt of crimson mist was all that remained of their arm. The injured Faunus howled in agony, collapsing to the floor while clutching the severed limb.
The atmosphere in the bar car shifted, the thieves now realizing they faced a formidable adversary. "Damn it! This guy's got serious firepower!" shouted a cat Faunus, her agility allowing her to dodge the swing of Reliquit Custodiam. However, she couldn't evade the quickdraw of Honestus Finis. Another shot and her stolen pistol clattered to the floor as she clutched her wounded shoulder. What was left of it, that is.
The skirmish intensified as the fog outside mirrored the chaos within. Bemaia moved with an eerie grace, his singular wing casting shadows that danced in the mist. The remaining thieves rallied, determination overcoming their initial shock.
A bat Faunus, armed with a stolen firearm, took aim at Bemaia. The shot rang out, but the librarian's reflexes were quicker. Reliquit Custodiam intercepted the bullet, sending sparks flying. In retaliation, Bemaia lunged forward, striking the bat Faunus with a powerful blow that left him crumpled against the bar. The arms the bat Faunus used to try and block, were now pulverized, falling limply downwards as a stream of blood discharged through their mouth.
Two Faunus remained, their resolve undeterred. A chameleon Faunus, brandishing a stolen bottle as an improvised weapon, lunged at Bemaia, attempting to strike from the shadows. However, the librarian's keen senses allowed him to anticipate the attack. With a swift motion, he evaded the strike and countered, incapacitating the chameleon Faunus with a calculated blow with Reliquit Custodiam to the nape.
The final member remaining seized the opportunity. With a stolen dagger in hand, she lunged at Bemaia from behind. The librarian, however, sensed the threat, his wing twitching as if reacting to an unseen danger. In a rapid turn, Reliquit Custodiam intercepted the dagger mid-air, disarming the last Faunus with a resounding clash.
The bar car fell into an uneasy silence, the fog outside now bearing witness to the aftermath of the confrontation. Four Faunus lay injured and defeated, their stolen spoils scattered and forgotten. Bemaia, his wing still unfurled, surveyed the scene with a mix of weariness and determination.
Yet, as the dust settled, a question lingered – the identity of the unseen orchestrator behind the White Fang's interference with the train journey.
An answer he would get very soon.
Returning his attention to the fifth Faunus, Bemaia approached the stammering mess on the ground. "W-W-Wait! Let's talk! Let's talk!" A feminine voice came from behind the mask, whilst she cowered backward and eventually stopped when her back touched a wall. The other four were either unconscious or grunting on the floor, on their wit's end.
The librarian crouched in front of the White Fang grunt. "What's your plan?" He asked plainly, more interested in paying attention to his surroundings.
"You must have figured it out by now!" She said with a shaky voice. "The Heiress is here, r-right? That's what they want!"
Bemaia scoffed at the girl's comment. "Really? Already?" He said, confusing the Faunus girl beyond comprehension. "What do you mean 'Already'? You-" She closed her mouth shut when the end of Honestus Finis' barrel met her cheek.
"I'm disappointed on behalf of the White Fang." He explained, not bearing to even look at the girl. "Imagine giving away information to the enemy without as much as a threat. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I did." He said, lifting the hand cannon away from her face.
The librarian sighed. "Tell you what," he began, rising to his full, though unimpressive, height. "I have the Heiress. You take your guys back to whatever place you came from and tell your manager I'm open for negotiations."
Yet, as those words reached her, she couldn't process why was he letting him go. Wasn't this the guy who left dozens of bodies in his wake back in ? "You're not gonna kill us?"
Bemaia stopped for a second and turned back to the girl. "Do you want me to?" He asked, already pulling the hammer of his revolver and pointing it at the nearest person in the room, the Wolf Faunus who lost an arm.
Protesting against the librarian proved effective when he retracted the weapon, pointing towards the ceiling. "Then, what are you waiting for? The more you stall, the less chance your friends have of getting out alive, wounded like that."
The girl mustered the strength to get up and help the wounded leave the train, the ones who couldn't get up on their own, needed to be helped, and the rest left.
Bemaia too, left the bar car and returned to the room. As he arrived in front of the door, he sighed. "They didn't have Aura... Why?" But shoved those thoughts away, knocking on the door exactly five times.
The door did unlock after a while, perhaps enough time for Weiss to think if it was worth it to even let Bemaia in.
Weiss answered the door with a vein pulsating out of her forehead while a scowl defined her complexity. "So, did you get..." Her comment started sarcastically, but upon noticing the blood stains on Bemaia's suit and face, she lost herself mid-sentence. "What? Who did you kill this time?!"
Before answering her question, the librarian looked both ways through the corridor, and upon noticing no one, he pushed the girl inside and closed the door behind them. "After that whole talk, we had at Kyleneath's... You still went in and did it! What good is your word when you can't even keep it!"
Wordlessly, Bemaia opened the cylinder of Honestus Finis to check his ammo. "The White Fang are here." He spoke, shutting Weiss up. "They are looking for the Heires… So, you."
Weiss observed the boy, perplexed at how he pulled out three spent cartridge cases from the cylinder of his gun and added three bullets back in. "You shot that thing three times and I didn't hear anything?"
Bemaia scoffed at her comment. "That's what you're impressed about?" He said, silently telling himself 'seventeen.' He cursed internally. "That's what I get for throwing in a warning shot."
Weiss quickly went for the door, opening it, and peering out into the corridor. It was dead silent with nothing out of the ordinary. "We should warn the people of the other rooms and call for help."
Her reasonable line of thought was met with negation. "And risk them panic and bring in Grimm?" Bemaia retorted back, shaking his head. "No. And I also sent a few messages to the Headmaster." He said, pushing Weiss to the side of the door frame to make space for himself.
"Hey!" She yelped from the sudden displacement.
"Come with me," Bemaia commanded, as he went back towards the bar car's door. "I'll make a 'deal' with them." He said, adding emphasis on the 'deal' part.
Weiss did nothing but follow suit with a scowl on her face, completely irritated that she had to follow this madman's orders for the time being.
Nothing but the sound of their steps rang out in the corridors. Weiss cursed internally for getting out in the open with nothing but a pair of white slippers and a ball-pattern blue and white nightgown, her scroll being held tightly by her slender fingers.
The duo hastily got inside the bar wagon, revealing a scene most concerning for Weiss' eyes.
The bar was completely destroyed. Wooden splinters and shattered glass littered the ground, making it impossible to walk without stepping on something undesirable. What's worse was the smell of alcohol and blood that permeated the room. "Where are the bodies?" She asked, convicted of the death of whomever met with the librarian.
"There were five of them. They left, wounded." He answered truthfully. "No one died, I think."
The 'I think' part became apparent when Weiss noticed the severed arm still holding onto a metal sheet sword, not to mention the white and red bits still plastered into a wall and ceiling. What's worse was that she could see the bloodied footprints leading to the next wagon.
Pulling Weiss out of her torpidity, Bemaia looked her straight in the eyes. "Can you call your weapon?" He asked. "No, we are out of the rocket-locker's effective range."
He nodded. "Take that sword then. It's the closest thing to a rapier we have."
Eyes darted back and forth, going from Bemaia to the severed hand on the floor. While Weiss mustered up the courage to go and take the weapon, Bemaia scouted the next wagon via the door window once again. It seemed like the White Fang was preparing something out there with the sheer volume of them he could see within the immediate vicinity.
One of them stood out amongst the rest, however, since he was also the one who appeared to be throwing commands around. A man with red hair using a more sleek mask on his face that seemed to fuse with the short bull horns on his head, he also wore a more expensive-looking outfit than the rest, alongside an actual weapon on his side, a curved blade of sorts.
The only comparison Bemaia had for this man's outfit was the garb of the lower sections of the Liu Association. Curiously, he didn't seem to-
*Splat*
His thoughts were shaken back to reality when a wet, splattering sound originated from behind him, and when he looked behind him, Weiss was on the ground on all fours, above a pool of vomit of her own making. The puke got into her hands and atop the severed hand's sword.
He could also see tears forming in the girl's eyes, alongside a thick line of intestinal fluid connecting her mouth to the floor.
"For fuck's sake." Bemaia cursed under his breath, as he approached the girl, pulling her hair with Reliquit Custodiam to both take it out her face and raise her head, uncaring for any accidental pain he might inflict on her. "What are you doing?" He asked, attempting to remain as stoic as he could.
The girl seemed like she needed a moment to recover her composure, so Bemaia decided to do her a favor and reached for a used rag behind the bar's counter, and cleaned her mouth and hands for her.
It seemed that the girl couldn't handle a bit of gore up close. Shame.
He took hold of the sword, lifting it alongside the severed arm, and with a flick of his wrist, the hand flew away from the sword, landing on the floor somewhere, while also cleaning off most of the girl's puke from the blade, scattering it around the room. "Disgusting." He commented, lifting Weiss and handing her the sword. "Hold this and take deep breaths. Things are gonna get worse."
Bemaia then turned his attention to the bags of stolen goods that sat right by the counter. Rummaging through one of them, a mischievous idea formed in his mind, as he listed the things he found inside.
"Alcohol bottles, cigarettes, lighters, paintings..." he listed one by one, taking the things he found useful and placing them out of the bag. "Small decorations, expensive clocks..." He sighed. "No Dust in sight."
Still, this would do.
He took hold of two whiskey bottles, opened them, and began to pour the bottles' contents all over the bar. When the bottles were empty, he reached for another two and continued the process until each square inch of the room was moistened with alcohol. Despite that, he did keep one bottle of rum strapped to his belt for safekeeping.
Bemaia then pushed the tables and chairs that didn't break and put them in strategic locations across the bar, such as right by both doors, but not with the intent of blocking the entrance.
On top of each table and chair, he stacked a small pile of both empty and full bottles of alcoholic beverages. Bemaia stood right in the middle of his little trap, unlit cigar in his mouth, and a lighter in his pocket, as he waited for his adversaries with a smug smirk on his face.
"Shut up!"
Bemaia almost jumped in place, being legitimately scared for a moment by the sudden shout. Fortunately, it came from Weiss and not anything else.
"Shut up!" She shouted again, this time, even louder.
The librarian simply observed the girl commanding the literal void to shut it, considering that he was completely silent and had not said a word for at least two minutes.
"I told you to shut up! I don't care for whatever you offer!"
"..."
Bemaia blinked once. 'I see. She's talking to her, isn't she? Just like Philip did...' He thought to himself. "That's troubling." He said, approaching the girl.
'The voice does that to people…' The librarian told himself, keeping that thought to later.
Returning his attention to the heiress, it was clear that some trauma of hers was brought back to light. Her arms and legs are trembling, her breath is ragged, scratch that, she is straight up hyper-ventilating, all while standing atop a pool of her own vomit.
"You don't know me, so don't say things like you do!" She shouted once again.
A thug on her shoulder seemed to do the trick, as Weiss' eyes met Bemaia's. "Wait to have your breakdown somewhere comfortable. We've got bad guys to deal with now."
"Sorry..." The heiress spoke with a trembling voice. "I heard a voice just now, talking about things I didn't want to hear..." It was clear that she was experiencing some pretty heavy things for a girl her age.
It would have been nice if Bemaia gave a singular ounce of shit for whatever she was going through.
It's a shame he didn't.
"Hold that thought." He said, pointing at the door leading to the next wagon. She more or less understood the assignment.
"You're right… This is no place for that." Weiss admitted, taking deep breaths, slowly recovering her composure
Weiss' nose scrunched up in repulse. "What's this smell?!" She asked as her eyes began tearing up once again, this time, from the absolute pungentness of the smell that assaulted her senses. "A special tool that will help us later." That was all Bemaia gave her for an answer.
It was only then, that she stopped to analyze the weapon in her own hands. It was a crude blade crafted with sharpened sheets of metal, bolts, and screws. The metal was akin to the one found in street signs. Now that she thought about it, the handle had odd patterns of black and yellow... Maybe this was a street sign indeed!
"Leave it to the primitives of the White Fang to make something like this..." She further explored the sad excuse for a sword even further. The edge didn't even have a semblance of an alignment, let alone an actual balance between the blade and the pommel. The only redeeming quality of the weapon was the relative comfort she had while holding it.
It would be a miracle if this did anything in combat. "This will only serve as a focus for my semblance..." She said to the librarian. "So I'll be your support."
Bemaia gave her an approving look followed by a nod. "With any luck, things won't escalate further, but if it does, It will be much appreciated."
The librarian's attention turned to the door where the White Fang would be coming from. 'It's clear that they would also try and flank this wagon… What do?' Bemaia turned to Weiss once again. "Think you can take a few goons with that sword?"
She nodded. "Yep, but without any Dust, and depending on their number, it could prove difficult."
That's all he needed to hear. Shuffling through the inside of his suit, Bemaia pulled out a Light-Blue, almost White Dust vial, and handed it to her.
"And this is…?" She asked, unsure of what he wanted to do with it.
"What else could it be? A vial of cum?" Bemaia asked, sarcastically, earning a growl from the already emotionally unstable girl, though she did compose herself before answering.
"And what do you want me to do with this Vial of semen?"
The air around the librarian permeated with a thick desire to say 'Shove it', but the common sense he's developed with the time he's spent in Remnant told him not to.
So he told the actual thing. "This wagon is basically a kill box. Once they're inside we'll talk and try to reach a common consensus. If that fails, I need you to do your thing and block that door. Can you do that?"
Weiss wasn't exactly sure if she could. Her semblance relied heavily on her skill to keep her feelings at bay and exercise control over the Dust using her weapon as a catalyst of sorts. She wasn't exactly calm, nor did she have a proper conduit.
What Bemaia was asking of her was akin to telling a drunkard to drive a misaligned motorcycle in a straight. Doable sure, but it would require a lot from her, and a lot of time
"I can try, but this sword barely passes as a catalyst, so It'll take some time." Bemaia nodded in understanding, pointing at the bar. "Then hide behind the counter and get your thing ready."
After a few minutes that felt like hours, the door to Bemaia's little trap of a car opened as three individuals entered, all of them, unsurprisingly, were Faunus. Bemaia stood perfectly still in the center of the wagon, watching the trio, his left hand that held Honestus Finis was hidden away behind his back, while his right arm hung lazily to the side, tightening into a fist.
The first two who got in were indistinguishable from the rest of the terrorist group, same outfit, and same mask, but no crude weaponry. The third one, however, was the one Bemaia had a feeling was the head honcho of the group. Red-hair, completely different and also stylish attire, adorned sword on his hip, not to mention the overconfident smirk on his face.
He couldn't afford to underestimate this man.
Each of the goons positioned themselves on each side of the leader. Bemaia could only hope that Weiss wouldn't be spotted while she channeled her semblance. The air was thick with a mixture of blood and alcohol, something that the trio noticed but remained undisturbed by.
The goons' weapons were not to be underestimated. The two held sleek, silver, rifle-like guns, the likes Bemaia hadn't seen before. He only assumed those were rifles due to their shape and the way they idly held them. And when they pointed their guns at him, it only nailed that theory home.
It was only then, that the one in the middle spoke. "I was told that you wanted to talk. So talk, brother." Bemaia took a deep breath, his eyes darting back and forth between the two guns traced to his head.
"I know what you're here for, and I know it's not for me." He stated. "That bitch Schnee is in the next wagon. I can-"
Though, what Bemaia said was but a ruse, a certain someone did not take kindly to his comment. Surfacing from her perfect hiding place, and losing concentration over her semblance and carefully laid trap, Weiss walked up to the librarian, her face was beet red with anger. "Excuse me?!" She said, calmly. "What did you just call me?!"
At this point she was already in his face, holding Bemaia by the collar with one hand, and the stolen blade with the other. If not for their difference in size, she would have lifted him from the ground with how much strength she was outputting.
All Bemaia could do was sigh, placing his armored arm in front of his eyes to hide his embarrassment from his enemies, who stood there with amused looks. At least, he thought so, he couldn't tell through their masks.
"For fuck's sake." He cursed, incredulous at the fragility of this girl's ego. "Don't you know what 'Acting' is?!" Bemaia raised his voice, pulling away from the girl's grasp. "Don't touch me."
Weiss, much like the librarian, was not thrilled whatsoever. "That was uncalled for and rude! How dare you refer to me that way?"
In all his years working as a fixer, not once did he come across someone so stubborn and obnoxious as her. He could put up with the Thumb's bullshit, he could put up with Angela's bullshit, but this was on another level.
On the other side of the room, a single phrase escaped the red-hair's mouth. "You should be thankful that I am letting you have this moment, I'm very pissed at the two of you." A vein popped up, in the small line of skin that showed through the mask, on the bull faunus' forehead.
"Then, how else would-" Bemaia cut himself off. "You know what, no, this is not worth it, none of this is worth it." He then took a few deep breaths and managed to calm himself.
"I really don't like you."
"On that, we can agree."
Bemaia then turned towards the Faunus. "Can you believe this shit?" He asked, motioning to Weiss. One of the goons looked at the girl, then back at his partners. "It's a Schnee, so it checks out." Making the other goon chuckle for a moment.
The girl scoffed at this interaction.
The librarian faced the red-haired faunus. "Is there any way you let us go?" The bull faunus shook his head. "Thought as much." Which made him get into a battle stance, already accepting that the only way out was through fighting. He held no expectations with this fight.
The redhead, before adopting his own stance, raised his voice. "Before we begin, why did you betray us, Kin-Slayer." Bemaia shrugged. "Everyone seems to think I'm a Faunus, but I'm not. I'm a human, this wing just grew out of my back one day."
He was not thrilled with the answer. "So, you are a faker then." He then moved his attention to Weiss.
"You there, 'bitch Schnee'." The Faunus spoke with ire in his voice. "Once we're done with this faker, you will take me to my Darling." Though somewhat irritated with this man's manners, Weiss didn't know anyone who could qualify as this man's 'Darling'.
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but I don't know who this person you're looking for." She answered, prompting a smirk to appear on the man's face.
"I'm hurt. Blake never talked about me to her teammates?" He joked, making Weiss's eyes widen in realization, and Bemaia's eyes narrow in confusion. It felt as though he wasn't part of the conversation anymore.
"You're Adam Taurus!" Weiss exclaimed.
"You know him?" Bemaia asked. "He's a general of the White Fang, and is also the guy who trained Blake before she left the Fang."
It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. "So, you're Blake's ex?" Bemaia blurted out, making Weiss facepalm.
Adam, unbothered by the comment, nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes." He said, clutching the hilt of his blade. "These two are too much for you two, let me handle them alone, but make sure they don't run away." The two White Fang grunts nodded and stood on standby.
It seemed that the time to talk was over.
Now Playing: [Limbus Company - Canto III Battle Theme D1]
The train car crackled with tension as the trio faced off. Adam Taurus, the formidable White Fang general, sneered beneath his sleek mask. Weiss Schnee, her face a mix of determination and lingering frustration, wielded the improvised street-sign sword. Bemaia held Honestus Finis at his side, eyes narrowed in cautious anticipation.
Bemaia's gaze remained fixed on Adam as he spoke, his voice dripping with contempt. "Let's get this over with," the Faunus general growled, unsheathing his curved blade with a menacing flourish.
The remnants of the destroyed bar car created a chaotic battleground. Shattered glass, wooden splinters, and the pungent scent of alcohol lingered in the air. Tables and chairs, strategically placed by Bemaia, hinted at a trap waiting to be sprung. The narrow confines of the train car limited their movements, adding an extra layer of challenge to the impending clash.
Weiss took a deep breath, her earlier breakdown momentarily pushed aside. Bemaia maintained his stoic demeanor, though a flicker of annoyance danced in his eyes. Adam, this new foe Bemaia had never seen, reveled in the chaos, eager to prove his prowess.
The tension escalated as Bemaia and Weiss prepared for the onslaught. With a swift nod between them, the librarian and the heiress moved into position. Adam charged, his blade gleaming with deadly intent.
Bemaia stepped forward, calmly raising his right arm. Weiss moved to flank, her street-sign sword held at the ready. The clash erupted, the first strike coming from Adam's blade meeting Reliquit Custodiam. The force of the collision reverberated through the confined space.
"Weiss, cover my left," Bemaia ordered, parrying a relentless onslaught from Adam.
Weiss nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. She unleashed a barrage of ice glyphs, aiming to freeze Adam in his tracks. The general, however, danced between the glyphs with uncanny agility.
"You're making this personal. It's just business, remember?" Bemaia retorted, his movements fluid and precise as he dodged Adam's strikes.
Adam sneered, "Business or not, you are a faker, an insult to the White Fang and all of Faunus kind, Kin-Slayer! There is no going back."
Weiss, frustrated with the chaos, shouted, "Focus, Bemaia! We can't afford to lose here."
Bemaia, skillfully countering Adam's attacks, replied, "I'm not planning on losing to this lunatic."
Adam, a whirlwind of crimson and black, countered with a series of slashes. Bemaia deftly dodged, leaving Weiss an opportunity to unleash a volley of ice projectiles. Yet, Adam anticipated the attack, evading with a dancer's grace.
As the battle unfolded, words punctuated the clash of steel.
"A faker and a Schnee. How quaint. You're both out of your league," Adam mocked, his confidence unwavering.
Frustration flared in Weiss as she witnessed Adam effortlessly defying their coordinated assault. "We can't keep up like this. Bemaia, any ideas?"
Bemaia, keeping a watchful eye on Adam, assessed the situation. "Weiss, lure him towards the center."
Understanding the plan, Weiss nodded. She began a calculated retreat, drawing Adam away from the train car's walls. Bemaia, seizing the opportunity, moved with swift precision, circling Adam to the opposite side.
As Weiss drew Adam closer to the trap, Bemaia took his sweet time taking the red Vial from inside his suit and used to lit the cigar in his mouth, and, only when Adam was in the ideal spot did he unleash a barrage of gunfire. Five shots were fired. Adam deflected the bullets with his blade, seemingly unfazed. "You think bullets will stop me?"
Bemaia smirked, already reloading another five bullets, "Who said I was aiming for you?" He said, taking a puff at the cigar, taking it between the fingers, and flicking it towards the Faunus. Upon hitting the ground, the embers started a small flame- A prelude to the hell the librarian was about to unleash.
The tables and chairs, drenched in alcohol, burst into flames as Bemaia's explosive shots triggered a combustion. Fire erupted, enveloping the center of the train car. Adam, caught off guard, was momentarily blinded by the inferno.
"Time to end this," Bemaia declared, charging through the flames. Weiss, her semblance fueled by the elemental chaos, conjured icy tendrils to bind Adam in place.
Adam, disoriented but not defeated, roared with fury. He broke free from the ice, emerging from the flames unscathed. "You'll pay for that, Kin-Slayer."
The train car became a cauldron of chaos as the flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows that danced across the narrow confines. Adam, temporarily blinded by the unexpected inferno, staggered back, his imposing presence momentarily shaken. Bemaia, undeterred, emerged from the flames with the calculated determination of a predator.
Weiss, her icy tendrils still lingering in the air, assessed the situation. The once-controlled battlefield had become a tempest of fire and frost, an unpredictable battleground where the balance of power shifted like the whims of fate.
"You can't escape, Adam," Bemaia declared, his voice cutting through the crackling of the flames. His wing, an enigmatic appendage, seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy as it responded to the chaos.
The wing, a manifestation of the well, took on an ethereal glow, its gaze fixed on Adam. The Faunus general, recognizing the danger, attempted to summon his Semblance—a deadly power that could cleave through anything with a single stroke. However, the normally indomitable Semblance faltered under the piercing gaze of Bemaia's wing.
Adam's eyes widened in disbelief as the ominous glow of his Semblance dulled, its potency nullified by the mysterious force emanating from Bemaia's wing. The librarian, a master of his own uncanny way of fighting, revealed yet another facet of his strange powers.
"What's the matter, big guy? Like what you see?" Bemaia taunted, his eyes never leaving Adam. The wing, seemingly aware of its influence, maintained its gaze, a silent sentinel against the Faunus general's formidable abilities.
Unknown to all but him, a soft feminine voice echoed through his mind. "I have to hurry up and find them. I can't have the beast destroy this place…" The context of which, he knew very well.
Weiss, catching her breath amidst the chaos, seized the opportunity. "What did you do, Bemaia?"
He spared her a glance. "I have no fucking idea. Power gain nullification, maybe?" He himself wasn't sure.
Adam, unwilling to accept defeat, roared with frustration. "You won't escape this. I'll rip you apart."
Weiss, emboldened by the turn of events, raised her sword. "This is your chance, Bemaia. Finish it."
Bemaia, his expression unreadable behind the mask, approached Adam with deliberate steps. The Faunus general, sensing the impending threat, reluctantly retreated. The librarian's wing maintained its unwavering gaze, a silent warning that forced Adam to reconsider his strategy.
"Weiss, keep your distance. I don't know how long I can maintain this," Bemaia instructed, his attention never wavering from Adam.
As the trio circled within the fiery chaos, the train car transformed into a battleground of conflicting elements. Flames danced along the edges, casting a surreal glow upon the combatants. The scent of burnt wood and melting ice permeated the air, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.
So chaotic this was, that the two White Fang grunts decided to cut their losses and bail.
Adam, cornered by the unpredictable forces at play, attempted to summon his Semblance once more. Yet, each time he tried, the enigmatic power of Bemaia's wing nullified the attempt. Frustration etched across his masked face, revealing a glimpse of the Faunus general's vulnerability.
"You can't run forever, Adam. Surrender," Bemaia urged, his voice cutting through the crackling flames.
The Faunus general, driven to desperation, glared at the librarian. "You think you can stop me? I am the future of the White Fang."
Weiss, her resolve unyielding, interjected, "You're only destroying yourself. Surrender, and we can end this without further bloodshed."
Adam, a storm of conflicting emotions beneath his mask, hesitated for a moment. However, the fires of defiance still burned within him. With a primal roar, he charged forward, determined to break through the mysterious power that held him captive.
Bemaia's wing, undeterred, maintained its vigilant gaze. As Adam swung his blade with ferocious intensity, the librarian dodged with uncanny grace. The dance of fire and frost continued, an intricate display of combat prowess amid the chaotic battlefield.
"Your assault ends here, Adam," Bemaia declared, seizing an opening in Adam's relentless assault.
The librarian, exploiting his opponent's momentary lapse, unleashed a swift series of strikes. Each movement was calculated, a testament to the years of honed skill and strategic thinking. Adam, his defenses compromised, struggled to keep up with the librarian's elusive attacks.
Weiss, sensing the tide of battle turning, summoned her glyphs, the light-blue Vial just reached its halfway point. "Let me help, Bemaia!"
He nodded, and with a synchronized effort, Bemaia and Weiss orchestrated a coordinated assault. Glyphs of ice encased Adam, restricting his movements. The combination of Bemaia's agile strikes and Weiss's elemental prowess created a synergy that overwhelmed the Faunus general.
Yet, even in the face of adversity, Adam fought with unyielding tenacity. The flames of determination burned bright within him, fueling a final, desperate surge. With a primal roar, he shattered the ice glyphs, breaking free from Weiss's constraints.
What could have been the worst luck in his life, Bemaia noticed the ethereal glow originating from his ominous wing, ceased to be. The far-sighted eyes of the wing have closed. Adam was free to unleash his semblance. A singular bead of sweat dropped from his face.
With the golden glow of Bemaia's wing dissipating, Adam seized the opportunity. The Faunus general unleashed his Semblance—a devastating surge of power that carved through the air with lethal precision. Crimson energy coalesced around his blade as he swung with newfound ferocity.
As Adam's semblance erupted in a torrent of crimson energy, the confined space of the train car seemed to warp and twist. The sheer power of his attack threatened to overwhelm the delicate balance of chaos Bemaia had established. Weiss, her eyes widening in realization, summoned a protective glyph, forming a crystalline barrier between her the Librarian, and the impending onslaught.
Bemaia, with his wing's gaze no longer holding Adam in check, faced the full brunt of the Faunus general's Semblance. The librarian's reflexes kicked in, and he evaded as best he could, but the devastating energy still grazed him, leaving a searing trail across his chest. The force of the attack sent him crashing into a burning pile of debris, and pain radiated through his body.
The Librarian cursed internally as he analyzed his injuries. Just by grazing against him, Adam's attack managed to cut through Weiss's protective glyph and Bemaia's aura, leaving only a clear diagonal cut through his chest and belly. He shuddered to imagine what would have happened should that blow hit him directly.
Weiss, witnessing Bemaia's injury, clenched her teeth in frustration. The battle had taken an unexpected turn, and their advantage had crumbled in the face of Adam's overwhelming power. The flames around them roared, seemingly fueled by the chaos that now threatened to consume them.
Bemaia, though wounded, pushed himself to his feet, his gaze locked onto Adam. The scarlet energy of Adam's Semblance still crackled around him, an ominous display of the Faunus general's formidable might.
"You thought your little parlor tricks could stop me?" Adam sneered, reveling in the chaos he had unleashed.
Weiss, her mind racing to find a solution, shouted to Bemaia, "We can't let him keep using that power."
Bemaia, wiping blood from his mouth, nodded in agreement. His usually composed demeanor now bore the strain of the battle, but determination still burned in his eyes. "Weiss, create an opening."
Weiss nodded, her glyphs glowing as she conjured a series of icy spikes. She unleashed a barrage of projectiles, each aimed at forcing Adam to defend himself. The Faunus general, caught in the flurry, shifted his attention to Weiss, deflecting the ice with swift strokes of his blade.
Seizing the distraction, Bemaia activated Reliquit Custodiam and placed inside of it a Red Dust Vial, its ominous glow intensifying. The librarian lunged forward, his movements a blur as he aimed to exploit the vulnerability Weiss had created. However, Adam, ever perceptive, anticipated the attack and countered with a swift spin, deflecting Bemaia's blow.
The clash echoed through the train car, a cacophony of steel meeting steel. Weiss, not one to be sidelined, repositioned herself, glyphs swirling around her as she prepared for the next phase of the assault.
Adam, his mask concealing the frustration beneath, taunted, "Is this the best you've got? You can't hope to match my strength."
Bemaia, undeterred by the setback, retorted, "Strength alone won't win this, Adam."
Weiss, with a glint of determination in her eyes, unleashed a blinding flash of light using her semblance. The sudden brilliance disoriented Adam, momentarily breaking his focus. It was the opening Bemaia needed.
Reliquit Custodiam, now wreathed in a heated glow, swung with a calculated precision. Adam, caught off guard, struggled to parry the librarian's assault. The fist, imbued with fire Dust, struck true, leaving a deep searing mark across Adam's chest. The Faunus general staggered back, his aura flickering under the impact.
Bemaia, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and determination, pressed the advantage. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, each blow aimed at exploiting the weakness in Adam's defenses. The train car, already battered by the chaos of battle, bore witness to the intense exchange between the two warriors.
Weiss, seizing the opportunity, conjured a massive glyph beneath Adam, encasing him in a prison of ice. The Faunus general, trapped and momentarily incapacitated, glared defiantly at his adversaries.
Yet, even in his frozen state, Adam's eyes burned with relentless defiance. The icy prison, while a temporary setback, couldn't contain the sheer tenacity of the White Fang general. With a primal roar, Adam summoned the full force of his being, shattering the ice around him.
The resulting shockwave sent Bemaia and Weiss sprawling, their defenses temporarily shattered. The flames in the train car flared, casting elongated shadows that danced across the chaos-ridden battlefield.
Adam, now free from the icy confines, stood amidst the aftermath, his chest wound seared badly, but his determination unbroken. He glared at Bemaia and Weiss, a feral intensity in his eyes. The scars of battle adorned his mask, a testament to the relentless conflict that defined him.
As hellbent as Adam was on finishing this battle, the White Fang general wasn't an idiot, he knew that If Bemaia managed to activate that strange power again, he was dead meat, and he also knew that if the fight continued like this, he would lose regardless. He searched for an escape route, but his intentions were quickly understood.
Bemaia, nursing his wounds, rose to his feet. Weiss, though fatigued, summoned the remnants of her semblance. The trio, locked in a tense standoff, assessed the toll the battle had taken. The train car, once a controlled environment, now lay in ruin.
"Weiss, we need to end this, we can't let him escape." Bemaia urged, his voice strained but resolute.
Weiss nodded, determination burning anew within her. The battle had taken its toll, but they couldn't afford to let Adam slip away. As the trio prepared for the final confrontation, the train car crackled with the remnants of a chaotic clash, shadows flickering against the backdrop of the relentless flames.
Adam, sensing the determination in his adversaries, snarled beneath his mask. He knew he was wounded, but the flames of defiance still burned within him. With a swift motion, he lunged forward, determined to make his escape.
Bemaia, though weary, intercepted Adam's charge. The clash of blade against gauntlet resumed, a final exchange between the forces that had collided within the narrow confines of the train car. Weiss, summoning the last of her strength, joined the fray, glyphs swirling around her as she unleashed a final barrage of elemental assaults.
The battle reached its climax, a symphony of steel, ice, and fire echoing within the chaotic battleground. Adam, sensing the relentless pursuit of his adversaries, knew he had to retreat. With a powerful swipe of his blade, he created an opening and, with uncanny agility, evaded the coordinated assault.
Bemaia, his chest wound throbbing, tried to pursue, but the Faunus general, fueled by sheer determination, tore open a gash in the train car's wall from which he used to escape, and vanished into the shadows beyond the train car. The flames, now the sole witnesses to the intensity of the battle, cast an eerie glow upon the retreating figure of Adam Taurus.
"Weiss, stand down," Bemaia called, his voice a mix of exhaustion and frustration. The battle had taken its toll, and the elusive White Fang general had slipped through their grasp.
Weiss, though reluctant, lowered her weapon. The flames danced around them, casting a somber ambiance upon the battered train car. The scars of the clash were etched not only in the physical remnants of the battlefield but also in the wounds borne by Bemaia and the lingering sense of an unresolved conflict.
The narrow confines of the train car, now devoid of the chaotic dance of combat, stood as a testament to the clash of forces that had unfolded within. Bemaia, a hand pressed against his chest wound, sighed as he surveyed the aftermath. The battle had ended, but the scars, both seen and unseen, would linger.
As the flames continued to flicker and the remnants of chaos settled, Bemaia and Weiss remained within the silent aftermath of a battle that had tested their limits and left an indelible mark on their journey.
The pursuit of Adam Taurus would continue at another time, but for now, the train car stood as a silent witness to the clash that had unfolded within its narrow confines.
"Weiss... I know I should've asked before, but..." Bemaia said, struggling his way through the door in order to leave this burning heap of a train car. "Does your dad's ensurance cover the train?" A low chuckle left his throat, accompanied by a bloody cough, followed by a low *Thump* noise, as his unconscious body hit the ground.