I do not own RWBY or Warhammer 40,000, only my original characters.
Return of Faith
Chapter Eleven: Nearing Thunder
"Come on, you slow pokes," cried the ever-energetic Neon Katt to her teammates. The faunus girl was ahead of her team, lazily weaving around the civilians they shared the sidewalk with on her custom rollerblades. She dodged them with incredibly grace, made only more impressive by the fact that she was doing it backwards, not even looking where she was going as she regarded her friends with teasingly dramatic flair. "We're never gonna get there if you guys don't pick up the pace!"
Kobalt groaned and Ivori shook his head in amusement at her antics. Their leader, Coal Flynt, just smiled. He was well used to her enthusiasm, found it both charming and useful. A positive personality was beyond practical when you were a Huntsman, making it less likely for the Grimm to find you before you find them. Her peppy attitude had given them the edge on a number of missions, keeping them all happy and therefore making it less likely for Grimm to come looking for them.
Though it did get on some of his teammates' nerves from time to time, as evidenced by Kobalt's grumbling.
"Chill, Neon," Flynt called back, his own amusement leaking into his voice, "the club's not going anywhere. 'Sides, it's not even six yet. Won't be a lot for us to do if we get there early."
"Yeah, there is," she retorts, performing a figure-eight as she wove around a couple of people. "We can dance! And I'll have, like, the whole rink all to myself!"
Kobalt sighed and Ivori chuckled, as did Flynt. The sun drew ever closer to the horizon as the Atlas team made their way through the streets of Vale, prompting the automated streetlamps to turn on, and illuminating the darkening city in their stale glow.
The club Neon was currently leading them towards was a place called Rock & Roll, a sort of roller-rink/dance club hybrid. She'd heard about it from one of the Beacon students a while back and had been dying to go check it out. Flynt was never one to turn down a good time, so after a pretty intense training session, he decided they'd finally check it out, much to Neon's joy.
"Vale cult subdued by Atlas soldiers!"
The words somehow cut through the din of the evening city noise, drawing the musical Huntsman's ear and stopping him in his tracks. They'd been passing by a holoscreen store, a small crowd of people was gathered around the window where a large holographic projection showed a news anchor at a desk and the image of a violent looking two-headed eagle floating in the corner.
"Yesterday, a daring raid was undertaken against an unnamed extremist cult group belonging to the outlawed Church of the Emperor," The anchor said, the image in the corner switching to now show a freeze frame of Atlas soldiers arresting several people. "Attempts were made to resolve the situation peacefully, but group opened fire and the Atlas forces sent had no choice but to return fire, resulting in the deaths of many cult members."
Kobalt gave a grunt. "Good riddance," he said, earning him a few looks from the crowd. Some seemed to agree with him, but others glared at the young Huntsman, sending all kinds of warnings off in Flynt's mind. The sound of approaching rollerblades made Flynt turn as Neon rolled up to them, ready to nag them for stopping. Her words died on her tongue when she saw why they'd stopped though.
"After the firefight," the anchor went on, "it was discovered that the cult had been stockpiling weaponry and Dust. As of now, it is unknown why they were doing this, however officials believe they were planning to execute a terrorist attack during the Vytal Festival.
"In the wake of this event, the Vale Council offered General Ironwood their thanks for saving the city from another threat, commending his vigilance and dedication to protecting the people of Remnant in these trying times." The image in the corner faded away, and the focus was put solely on the anchor. "The council urges that Vale citizens stay alert for any suspicious activity and work with Atlas forces to ensure everyone can have a safe and enjoyable Vytal Festival. And now…" The news moved on to different topics, not that anyone watching cared. The civilians around them were all muttering to each other about what they just heard.
"They don't care Atlas just shot up a bunch of people," Flynt heard someone ask, his voice quiet but outraged.
"The Council doesn't give a shit about us," another man said, louder and more bitterly, "they want to be on Atlas' good side so they can get some of that shiny tech they always brag about."
"They saved a lot of people during the Breach, though," a woman defended.
"Probably just saw it as an excuse to kill stuff," her friend argued, "they're nothing but a bunch of warmongers."
"I heard they kill you if they think you worship the Emperor up there."
That remark made a few people turn their heads toward Kobalt, and the rest of FNKI. Flynt knew why. The four teens didn't exactly hide their status as Huntsmen-in-training, carrying their less than standard weapons openly and wearing some pretty eye-catching threads. Though currently, Flynt didn't like the looks of the eyes they were catching.
"You got a problem with my friend," he asked one of the men glaring at Neon. The guy didn't look to special to him, just another average joe on the streets. But that didn't mean Flynt was about to underestimate him now. That sort of thing could get you killed.
The man turned his glare on Flynt, eying him up. "You're not from Vale," he said, and it wasn't a question. "You from Atlas?"
"Yeah," Flynt said, "we're here for the tournament. That going to be a problem?" Flynt folded his arms over his chest and glared at the man from behind his shades. As other members of the crowd turned to look at the team leader, Neon, Kobalt and Ivori carefully got into position beside him, but didn't go for their weapons just yet. Flynt was grateful for that. FKNI might not be the picture-perfect example of an Atlas academy team, but they had the discipline of one when it counted.
"It will be if you make it one, kid," the man said, "you're not in Atlas anymore."
A tense silence passed between the Vale locals and the Atlas students. Flynt held no doubts that his team could wipe the floor with these fools, but beating up civilians wasn't FNKI's MO.
Though it stung his pride, Flynt was the first one to look away. "Come on, FNKI," he said, "we're heading back."
"What!? But Flynt-" Neon started, but her partner cut her off.
"No buts, Neon. We are heading back."
"We can take them, Flynt," Kobalt whispered in his ear, "Only about six of them, and they're unarmed. We should teach them a lesson-"
"We do that and we're just proving their point," Flynt whispered back, keeping his eyes on the big guy in front of them. "You want to get heat for beating up a bunch of civies? Cus you can kiss our spot in the tournament goodbye if you do."
Kobalt backed off with a grumble. Neon looked close to tears. The only one keeping his composure besides Flynt was Ivori, for which he was grateful. Flynt turned back to the man and small crowd of civilians and tipped his head to them.
"Sorry for disturbing your night." The man just grunted at them. Flynt turned back to his team, "Come on, FNKI, let's go. We've overstayed our welcome."
Flynt and his team left the way they came, reluctantly. Kobalt grumbled with his hands in his pockets while Neon scooted along sadly in the back. You'd think someone had just kicked her puppy in front of her with how gloomy she looked.
"We'll check the place out next weekend, Neon," Flynt promised once they were out of ear shot.
Neon made a sound somewhere between a huff and a sniffle. "But I wanted to go tonight~~" she bemoaned, her tail trailing limply behind her showing just how bummed out she was. "I've barely done any partying since we came to Vale and I wanted to party till dawn! It was gonna be so lit!"
"I still can't believe you let that guy walk all over you like that," Kobalt remarked sourly.
"It was either that, or start something I'd rather not start," Flynt told him in a voice that brokered no argument, "if we had thrown down, it'd be all over the news."
"Not to mention on the Headmaster's desk," Ivori added in, then in a hammy impersonation of an anchorman; "'Atlas students brutalize six Vale citizens in street brawl'. We'd be lucky if he didn't expel us right on the spot."
Flynt snapped his fingers, "Right on, Ivori. Besides, we got stuff we can do in the dorms. How's about giving SSDG that dancing rematch? That sound cool?"
Neon pouted and folded her arms across her chest, looking too much like an angry toddler for Flynt not to crack a smile. "Fine…" she grumbled, and Flynt gave her a thankful nod.
"That's the spirit. Come on, we don't want to miss the ferry." They didn't speak much during the walk back to the dock, still bummed out that they weren't heading to the club. Flynt understood their annoyance, hell, he was pissed off too, but life had taught him that stuff like this could and did happen all the time.
Besides, he didn't feel like partying anymore.
It was dark out now; the sun was gone, and the moon shone brightly in its place. Flynt decided to pocket his shades so he could see better, the lamps helped but they weren't Atlas grade. As they walked on, he noticed something, a bright shimmer coming from a distance window. He raised an eyebrow at it, and as they drew closer, he saw that it was a candle, set in the windowsill of a darkened apartment.
Weird, he thought, but didn't think much else of it, not until he saw another candle set in another windowsill, and another. He looked across the street, and found half a dozen more windows, each one dark, save for a single lit candle in the frame. Just what the heck was going on?
Flynt tried to ignore it, thinking it might have just been some freak power malfunction or something. But the further along they went, more candle-lit windows he saw. He turned back to his team, wanting to see if they had noticed the candles too. They did, and they looked just as confused by it as he was.
Was this part of a tradition here in Vale? Was it some local custom they hadn't learned about in school? They hadn't seen this sort of thing in their previous trips into the city, so it could be part of some minor Vale holiday or-
Flynt's head snapped toward Neon as the cat faunus let out a sharp gasp. She had her hands over her mouth and her eyes were wide as she stared at one of the windows. Flynt and the others followed her gaze but saw only a lit candle sitting in a window.
"What is it?" Kobalt asked, glaring in the candle's direction, itching to go for his weapon. "What did you see?"
"I saw someone," she whispered, eyes still wide, "I saw them light the candle."
"And?" Ivori asked, wary but not as high-strung as his teammate.
Neon's gaze shifted to each of the three boys before falling onto Flynt, "she was talking to it; to the candle, I mean. Almost like she was… praying," she revealed. "And before she lit it, she made… this sign with her hands."
Tentatively, Neon recreated what she'd seen, much to the shock of her teammates. She broke the symbol as soon as she made it, fear and worry clear on her normally cheerful face. Kobalt and Ivori exchanged looks between one another, and Flynt turned his attention back to the candle-lit windows of Vale, taking in just how many of them there actually were.
Way too many, he thought, way, way too many.
"Come on, guys," he said hurriedly, "we better get going." Team FNKI obeyed without question, practically jogging the rest of the way, all while trying to ignore the glow of the candles that burned in the windows of what felt like every building they passed.
That guy was right, Flynt thought to himself, we really aren't in Atlas anymore…
~o0o~
As Viole entered the dance club, she winced. The club's music loud and obnoxious, matching the personalities of everyone flailing around on the dance floor. It hurt her heightened hearing, and the violet haired faunus pressed her single fox ear down against her head. It barely helped.
Viole made her way into the club, weaving through the throng of degenerates that flocked to such places. They were all dressed in obscene and garish clothing. All manner of clashing colors and styles that melded into a riot of colors that, under the strobing lights of the club, were almost nauseating.
In contrast to their bright and colorful clothes, Viole's clothes were far more… conservative. The priestess of the hidden Faith was dressed in a dark gray top along with a black jacket and a long black dress. Equally dark stockings covered her legs, and her feet were clad in comfortable gray shoes.
The outfit made her stand out in a crowd like this one, and a few people shot her sideways glances. She ignored them and continued toward the back of the club, where a man dressed in black and red stood guard beside an inconspicuous door. He saw her approach and looked at her, his eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses.
"I am expected," Viole said loudly as to be heard over the booming music. The man regarded her for a moment, shaded eyes drifting to the single fox ear she had before making a sound she couldn't hear and opening the door for her. Viole nodded her thanks and quickly entered, letting the bouncer close the door behind her.
The moment the door shut closed, the noise of the club was muffled significantly, to which Viole was grateful. The room inside was well lit, a sharp contrast to the strobing madness she had just escaped. A large wooden table took up the majority of the room's space, surrounded by ten seats, eight of which were occupied.
There were five men and three women at the table, all of them human except for Viole and one other. Like her, they wore dark clothes of black and gray. Like her, their expressions were serious and grim.
They were her peers, the priests, and priestesses of Vale's most influential cults. Each of them was a servant of the Emperor's Will, each of them was a shepherd for the lost and unwanted of Vale, and each of them was, by law, a criminal. Ordinarily, it was forbidden for leaders of different cults to meet one another, let alone host gatherings of this size, but recent events had forced their hand.
Each of them regarded Viole, offering quiet greetings or nods of the head in her direction. The other faunus, a goat-horned man named Father Brann of the Cult of the Emperor's Flame, gave her a smile. One of them, a frail old man, rose from his seat and regarded Viole. His eyes were glassy with cataracts, and it took him a moment to recognize her. "Welcome, Sister Viole," the man said, his voice sounding as ancient as he looked. "God-Emperor protect you and your flock. Please, take your seat."
Viole nodded, "thank you, Father Raymond," and sat down in one of the two remaining seats. Despite herself, Viole couldn't help but cast a glance at the last vacant seat, fully aware that the man who would sit there was never coming.
Father Raymond sat down too, letting out a huff of effort once he was sitting. The old man then held his hands up in the sign of the sacred Aquila. "Glory to Him, our beloved God-Emperor. May He ever guide us on the path to righteousness and peace. Ave imperator."
"Ave imperator," the others intoned, making the sign of the Aquila themselves.
"Let us share a moment of silence," Raymond added, "for the brothers and sisters we lost in the Back Alley Massacre." No argument was given as all nine of them bowed their heads, closed their eyes, and offered silent prayers for the dead. Once proper respect was given, Father Raymond spoke again, "I thank you all for coming on such short notice. I know this risk this meeting creates, but much has happened, and we must decide on our next course of action."
"There is nothing to discuss," one of the priests quickly remarked, earning everyone's attention. "Our course is clear: we must prepare for the Angels' return."
"And how are we to do that," another asked him, "roll out the red carpet and hold up cardboard signs saying 'welcome'? Atlas has a fleet of warships hovering over our heads, if we try anything, we are all dead."
"If we do nothing, they will still hunt us down," argued Brann. "We need to take a stand; show them that we are not the scared animals they believe we are."
"And lead our faithful into a pointless slaughter," said one of the priestesses, "I will not make martyrs out of my flock over some vain hope that the Angels will come and save us before the bullets start flying if they are coming at all."
"You doubt the word of His herald?" Viole snapped before she even realized she'd said anything. The woman, Mother Telia of the Cult of the Emperor's Shade, glared at Viole from behind tresses of dark curly hair.
"Yes, Viole," Telia replied curtly, "when a stranger enters my sanctuary, promising me an end to decades of persecution and providing no proof to support his words, yes, I doubt him." She looked at the rest of the gathered priests and priestesses. "We have all been contacted by these strangers, these self-proclaimed heralds of the Emperor's Will. Yes, they spoke of His domain and his Angels, but did they tell us when they would come? No. They have given us nothing but pretty words and promises but nothing to support their claims." Telia gave a sorrowful glace to the empty chair before continuing, "and now Carmine is dead, his followers murdered in cold blood by Atlesian robots. You may call me a coward if you want, but I will not allow my flock to suffer the same fate."
"We can't fight Atlas," agreed the first naysayer, Father Elijah, "Carmine had the most fighters out of all of us, and Atlas wiped them all out in under an hour. Our only hope is to go into hiding."
"We are already in hiding," argued another, a young woman who Viole did not know, "where would we go? The sewers? The outlying towns? Mountain Glenn? We cannot keep running like this, we need to make a stand! Not just for our faith, but for our Kingdom."
"The people of Vale are growing tired of their presence here as well," added Father Brann, "we have all seen the candles at night, lighting the windows of apartments, homes, and businesses. The city mourns for them, just as we do. It is time for us to reach out, increase recruiting, spread our influence, stockpile weaponry."
One of the priests scoffed, "of course the former terrorist wants to start a revolution."
"I want retribution!" the faunus growled, slamming his fist against the table, "as should all of you! Carmine was the best of us, a true paragon of our faith. I owe my life to Carmine, and I refuse to let his death go unavenged."
"Brann is right," another agreed, "retribution is owed. Atlas must pay."
"And how are we going to make them pay, exactly?" Telia asked, "do you have a secret army you've been hiding from us, Brann? Like the one Atlas found hiding in Forever Falls?"
The talks devolved from there as the priests continued to argue. Viole was not exempt from this, she too added her voice to the cacophony, loudly supporting the call for action against Atlas. There discourse went on, concealed by the thudding beat of the dance club, before Father Raymond raised his hand for silence.
"Enough," he said, quietly at first, resulting in no one hearing him.
"I said, enough!" he repeated, louder this time. The other priests and priestesses listened, falling silent as they all turned to the oldest of their ranks. Raymond lowered his hand, "Brann speaks the truth about Father Carmine, he was indeed the best of us, a true believer, a humble leader, and a friend to many here today. We all grieve for him and his murdered flock, but we cannot let our grief and fear blind us to our responsibilities. Now, more than ever, the Faithful will be looking to us for guidance and safety."
Father Raymond paused for a moment, taking a few breathes before continuing, "But Mother Telia is also right; we do not know when the Angels will return to us. If we were to rise up now, without their holy wrath and might, we would all be killed." Telia straightened a bit at that. "But" he said, causing Telia to frown, "they are coming, there must be no doubt in this. It may not be tomorrow, it may not be next month, but the Angels are coming, and we must be ready for them. We must prepare ourselves and our followers for the trials ahead of us."
"Fine words, Father Raymond, fine words."
Everyone turned at the new voice. Several shot from their seats and pulled out guns, most just stared wide-eyed at the dance club guard who was supposed to be standing outside the door. The man grinned at them, removing his glasses and hat to reveal snow white hair, green eyes, and a face Viole recognized almost instantly.
The Emperor's herald raised his hands into the air in a placating gesture, "Now, now, I am not here to cause trouble," he said, slowly moving toward the table.
He stopped at the edge of the table, between Viole and the empty chair. Elijah glared at him. "You have no right to be here, outsider. You may claim to be the Emperor's herald, but you-."
"I," the herald, Yole, interrupted, "am here to make sure you don't do something you'll regret. To provide you all with a, I believe the term is 'a silver thread'."
Several cult leaders narrowed their eyes at him. Brann had holstered his gun and sat down, as had the others. "What do you mean, Herald," asked Father Raymond.
"Father Carmine's death was a tragedy," Yole began, voice solemn and heavy, "as were the deaths of his followers. The Emperor weeps for each and every one of them. Innocent people, cut down simply because of the god they chose to follow. All on the orders of a visiting Atlas general."
"We know all this," snapped Elijah, "what is your point?"
"My point," Yole stressed, giving Elijah a look, "is that such things have consequences. The Council has altered the events of that day to make it seem like the Atlas military had no choice, that they wanted to resolve the situation peacefully… but" and here, he grinned, "if the truth were to be shown to the public and Atlas' true face revealed…"
He let the statement hang there, giving time for the gathered priests and priestesses to comprehend his meaning. When they did, their eyes went wide. Yole's grin grew as they each realized his intention.
"No… no!" one of the priestesses exclaimed, her face horrified. "What you suggest… it would cause chaos! Riots in the street!"
"Do you not want Atlas to pay for everything they've done to us, Sophia," challenged Brann, "the people have a right to know the truth!"
"The people would become more sympathetic to our plight," Viole remarked, "lose trust in the Council and their Atlas masters."
"It would attract the Grimm," another pointed out, "all that shock and outrage, it would be like sounding a dinner bell."
"And leave the Huntsmen and Atlas forces too busy dealing with them to stop us from making our move," Viole elaborated.
"And what move is that, exactly," challenged Telia, "march on city hall and take the Council hostage?" She then shot a glare at the herald, "and how would you even do this? Atlas killed or captured everyone in Carmine's flock, and if any managed to escape, who would believe them? This isn't some bad crime drama where the testimony of some random person will make everyone change their minds and–"
"For one who leads others in worship of the Emperor," Yole interrupted, "you seem to have very little faith in other people, Mother Telia." Her face went red with outrage and opened her mouth to say more, but he would not let her. "Whether you want to believe it or not, I am a servant of the Emperor. It is through me His Will is done." He started walking around the edge of the table, everyone twisting their heads to follow him as he made his way over to Father Raymond. "I assure you; I have a plan in place. Before the Vytal Festival's end, every man, woman, and child will know the truth of the Back Alley Massacre and see Atlas for the monsters they are."
Father Raymond stared at the man through blurry, narrowed eyes, looking for something in the herald's calm and determined expression. He licked his lips before asking, "and what will our role be in this plan of yours, Herald of the Emperor?"
With those words, Yole's grin turned predatory.
"To spread His Word."
~o0o~
Yang was pissed off.
Anyone could see it. Just one look at the blonde's face was enough to let everyone know not to get in her way. And as she stormed down the hallway of Beacon's dormitory wing, a bag slung over her back and dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her, everyone wisely stepped aside to let her pass and refrained from asking what she was doing.
No, scratch that, Yang wasn't pissed off. She was downright furious.
When she and the others confronted Ruby and Jaune about their little… dates, the plan had been to make them leave the cult, get them to understand the dangers of being a part of it. But Yang… she let her temper take control. She was so angry with Ruby, angry with her sister for hiding this from her, for lying to her about not following the emperor anymore, for putting herself in danger. Blake and Weiss chewed Ruby out too. They were just as angry with their young team leader as Yang was, but for very different reasons.
Yang wished she'd taken those reasons into account before doing what she did. Things might have ended differently.
Ruby shot back at them with accusations of her own, retaliating with a venom and zealotry Yang didn't know her sister had. Ruby kept going on and on about how the emperor was a good god, how she was a victim in all of this. It only made Yang angrier.
She snapped, said the one thing she should have never said, and Ruby bolted for the door.
Only to be greeted by those damn soldiers.
They arrested Ruby and Jaune on the spot, taking them up to one of their warships. Yang had wanted to stop them, punch their teeth in and send them flying, only for Weiss to stop her. Anger turned to shock as the Schnee heiress let her partner and their leader be taken away by the Atlas troops. The shock didn't last long though. Yang screamed at Weiss for what she did, calling her all kinds of nasty and rude things. The Schnee heiress shot back, trying to justify herself to the now thoroughly enraged Yang.
She only got as far as admitting to ratting Ruby out to the military before Yang punched her in the face. It sent Weiss smashing into the wall on the other side of the room, putting a hole in the wall that was still there when Yang left. She would have done more to the snooty Atlas brat, but Blake and the others grabbed her, physically holding her back until Professor Goodwitch showed up and shut everything down.
The assistant headmistress of Beacon ordered Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren back to their room before using her Semblance to pull Wiess out of the wall and take her to the infirmary, telling Yang and Blake to stay put for the time being. Yang was still angry and challenged Goodwitch, asking why she wasn't trying to help Ruby and Jaune.
Goodwitch responded by leveling Yang with the coldest glare she'd ever seen the woman give. It was enough to make even her tremendous temper cool down. Then she left the room, though not before promising them both the headmaster would be having words with them after this.
And boy, was she right.
The next day, both Teams RWBY and JNPR were summoned to headmaster's office. Weiss and Yang glared at each other when they were reunited, the Schnee heiress now sporting a large bandage over her clearly broken nose. Served her right, Yang had thought.
The Headmaster spoke to them each, one on one. Time seemed to drag as Yang waited for her turn, watching the others go in and come out. Finally, Blake stepped out of the office and it was Yang's turn. The faunus gave Yang a peculiar look as the two passed each other, but Yang just kept her eyes front. When she entered, she met the disappointed gaze of Headmaster Ozpin.
And as soon as she sat down, the talking started.
Yang… she tried to defend herself and Ruby, tried to explain things to him. She knew the headmaster had a soft spot for her sister, and their team in general. He'd let them get away with plenty of stuff in the past. Yang had hoped that meant he'd help them out again, talk to the general, or maybe even the Council. Something, anything, that might get Ruby back.
Ozpin listened throughout all of Yang's words, not interrupting or pipping up for clarification. It gave Yang some hope that he'd be sympathetic. But when she finished, Ozpin just gave a defeated sigh, and Yang's hope sank.
Ozpin told her there was nothing he could do regarding Ruby. He had tried talking with Ironwood, but the general flat out refused to release Yang's sister into Beacon custody. He said that due to her religious affiliation, she was deemed a threat to the Festival and therefore fell under his jurisdiction. The headmaster expressed his regret over the situation, of how we wished he could be of more help. Yang had wanted to shout at him for it, call it all bullshit and tell him he could do something, that he was just too scared of pissing off Atlas to try. She wanted to say that, but the next thing Ozpin told her robbed the brawler of her fire.
She was being kicked out.
At first, she thought it was some sort of sick joke, but the look on Ozpin's face told Yang it wasn't. For deliberately harming and injuring a fellow student outside of training, he explained, she was to be expelled from Beacon Academy. He went on about how he wished things had not turned out this way, but by that point, Yang wasn't listening. Too much had been flooding through her mind for her to hear anything the Headmaster was saying.
Eventually, either sensing the turmoil inside her or because he'd said all that he needed to say, Ozpin dismissed her. She went back to her dorm room – well, former dorm room now – and just… just…
Yang's breathe hitched and she pushed the memory down, replacing her melancholy with anger.
Yang had never been one to shy away from her anger, of any negative emotion it was the one she believed to be the most useful and easiest to work with. Sadness just made you feel bad about yourself, and hate just attracted more Grimm, but anger… anger could add weight to attacks, make you push through injuries, it could make people so scared of you, have them think twice about trying to trick you.
And Yang was feeling a lot of anger right now…
Anger at Ozpin for kicking her out. Anger at Atlas for arresting her little sister. Anger at Weiss for telling on her sister. Anger at Jaune for not stopping Ruby from going to those damn cult meetings. Anger at the cult for putting Ruby in danger in the first place. Anger at Ruby for being such an idiot…
And, most of all, anger with herself…
She'd made it out into the courtyard when she felt the tears start back up. She rubbed them away with her arm. She told herself it was so she could see.
Yang caused all of this. She had been the one to suggest they all follow Ruby and Jaune into the city, she had insisted on following them into the alleyway, even seeing that hidden Aquila on the wall. She should have turned back then, told everyone to just head back to Beacon and talk to Ruby and Jaune when they got back. She should have been careful, considered what to do and say. Instead, she rummaged through her sister's things, found that damned book, and used it to corner Ruby when she and Jaune came back.
What. Had. She. Been. THINKING!?
With a yell of frustration and regret, Yang lashed out against the supporting pillar of one of Beacon's decorative aqueducts. The white plaster layered over the stone shattered beneath her fist, and the gray stone beneath became cratered and cracked. Several passersby saw this and quickened their pace, having no desire to be near such a volatile girl.
Yang stood there for a while, panting angrily, her eyes burning crimson and her fist still lodged in the pillar. After a while, she pulled her fist back, causing dust and chunks of stone to come loose and fall to the floor. Yang leaned against the pillar, gripping at her magnificent golden locks as she slumped to the floor, and finally allowed herself to cry.
In contrast to her usually nature, Yang was a quiet sobber. When Summer Rose left and never came back, Yang had had to take up the slack around the house, taking care of Ruby while their dad mourned. She'd mourned too, but she had tried to hide it, for Ruby's sake. Yang couldn't cry in front of her baby sister, she had to be strong, she had to show things were alright.
Not an easy thing to do when you were five.
Damn you, Yang thought bitterly. You could have stopped this, but you didn't. You could have kept her safe, but you didn't. You never do anything. Why? What did I do to deserve this? What did we do to deserve this? Why don't you do anything!? Why!?
Her rageful thoughts were interrupted when she heard a familiar chime song coming from her pocket. Yang sniffed and pulled out her Scroll, hesitating for a moment when she saw the name of the caller on the screen. Swallowing her dread, Yang opened the call.
"Dad…?" Her voice was weak and quiet, a far cry from her usual, confident tone.
"Yang," Taiyang Xiao Long began, his voice the most serious Yang had ever heard in her life. He didn't sound angry, or sad. His voice seemed almost devoid of emotion. There was something there though, an underlying gravity and tension that Yang had never heard him use before. "What happened?"
~o0o~
Far from the world of Remnant, out in the vastness of space, an unnatural phenomenon appeared. The calm emptiness of the void was shaken and churned as a portal to unreality was ripped open. Weird energies and malevolent things shrieked and thrashed at the edge of the tear, desperately wanting to leave their realm and enter this new one. Some leapt into the void only to instantly dematerialize back into the abyss. Still, they persisted, trying over and over to enter this reality, only for its laws to banish them back to the hell they came from.
Along with these nightmare things was the entity that opened the tear. A great beast of metal, stone, and plasteel poured out from the rent in reality, entering the void like a man might step through a door. Its engines howled and its systems flared to life as the massive starship was returned to its home realm, like it was happy to be free of that dreadful place. Not fraction of a second after had the ship left the Warp that the tear into the Materium collapsed upon itself and blinked out of existence.
Upon the ship's command bridge dozens of deck officers, serfs, and servitors went out their duties, recalibrating systems, performing augur scans, running diagnostic checks, checking weapon systems, and offering due praise to the God-Emperor for another safe voyage. On the command dais overlooking all of this were three figures, two demigods and one mortal.
The mortal was hooked into a throne at the dais' center, cables and wires plugged into his nervous system so that he became one with the majestic and ferocious vessel he commanded. He listened to the reports of the officers and serfs, taking in everything said and answering with orders of his own.
The two demigods stood, side by side, looking out through the main view screen at the endless expanse before them. They wore their armor of black and red and gold, their plate bedecked with honors and purity seals and etched with hymns and passages taken from the holy Lectitio Divinitatus. Neither wore their helmets, nor did they speak, content to listen to the serfs as they gave their reports.
Once he heard all he needed to, the mortal shipmaster dismissed his subordinates and turned his head to the demigods. "We have arrived at the coordinates Inquisitor Kress provided, my lords. We are on the edge the Remnant system."
"Reduce speed and wait for the rest of the fleet to translate in," said the less ornately armored of the two warriors, "Once they are in formation, make full ahead for Remnant."
"At once, Lord Davos," the shipmaster said to the Black Lions' Master of the Fleet before conveying the orders down to his officers.
Time passed as the great ship, a mighty Battle-Barge known as The Wrathful Roar, waited in the void. Eventually, other rifts in reality opened, disgorging more ships into realspace. These new vessels quickly fell in around The Wrathful Roar.
"All fleet vessels have translated in system and are in formation, my lords," the shipmaster announced, "they await your command."
Davos looked to the warrior beside him, his brother and his liege. Alexander Castimere returned his friend's stare with one of his own before looking back out at the vast expanse of space. "Make for the world of Remnant, Shipmaster. Full speed."
And like a pod of marine predators, the six Astatres warships and single Inquisitorial light-cruiser ignited their engines and made all haste for the planet that had dared turn its back to the Emperor.
~o0o~
Author's Note: THAT'S RIGHT EVERYONE! THE LIONS ARE IN THE REMNANT SYSTEM! CUE THE PARADE MUSIC! But yeah, the Black Lions are drawing closer to Remnant. Next chapters will have more focus on them as they prepare for their invasion, along with two of our favorite infiltrators. I do not have much to say besides that at the moment, was going through some personal stuff so I didn't have much drive to write here and there. Still, I hope you enjoyed the end of this chapter.
DeadRich18 Out!