Chapter 7: Out of the big city.
All rights go to their owners.
Cover art by Ars Goetia Games on Twitter. Their commissions are open, so go ahead check 'em out, or even their games: Hellslave or Blind Prophet.
Talking: "Stars of the midnight ranges."
Thinking: 'Shining through the night.'
"Hey, Donnie. That weird guy is back, big order this time. Double time it, would ya? He gives me the creeps."-Waitress at the diner Alex frequents.
Ask a slave what freedom is and it differs from victim to victim. One might say freedom is simply being able to do whatever they desire. Sleep in a soft bed without ever getting out. Wasting the whole day as if there was no quotas or milestones to meet. Another might say it was the ability to eat what they want, when they want. No spoilt gruel or old bread as hard as steel.
For Adam?
It was the air.
That thing that every person needs but forgets just how important it is. This realisation only comes in when the mere action of breathing causes agony. When every inhale of life fills your lungs with unfiltered particles of Dust and powdered stone, scratching on the way down. Every exhale makes your throat sting from the dryness of it. The scent of death and misery mixed into a putrid miasma that stuck to you like a leech so you hate breathing through your nose, but breathing through your mouth just made the back of your throat feel like sandpaper.
Its why he smiled when he smelled the salt on the air. He stared out into the open ocean with the sun glazing off the calm blue waters. Because it was clean, it was free and the salt in the air could never compare to the hell that was the Rock.
The hairs on Adam's neck stand up, his instincts warning him. He turns around to find a human approaching him, Adam's shortened tail touches the edge of the boat. He stifles his sneer but can't help his lips turning into a frown.
"Captain wants to see ya, Fang." The human crew member casually said.
Adam looks over to the cockpit, unable to see the captain from the deck of the boat. He turns back to the human who stood awaiting a response. Adam rolls his eyes. "Message received, would you like a cookie as a reward for performing a task that must be so difficult for you?" His tone drips with toxic sarcasm.
The human scoffs. "Yeah, you got chocolate chip, prick?"
Adam doesn't respond, instead just brushing past the human to get to the cockpit. He walked past other crewmembers, humans and faunus. 'Least the captain doesn't hire on race but rather skill or some other qualifying factor. He's still an annoying human.' Adam thought derisively.
"Saw you staring out into the great blue. Thinking on a lover, Red?" A baritone voice was heard as soon as Adam entered the cockpit.
'Case in point.' Adam thought. He looked at Captain Marlowe. The man was tall, around six foot six. Tanned skin with a few scars on his face. A faded leather jacket with fur along the collar, a pale blue shirt along with dark blue trousers. A well-cared for admiral hat on his head. Attached to his trousers is a pair of holsters, in both sat huge revolvers, the barrel of the revolvers were about half as long as Adam's arm, looking more like rifles with a revolver stock then an actual handgun. Underneath one of the revolvers sat a scimitar. It was a simple blade, no excessive proportions to it like the revolvers.
"No, human. I wasn't." Adam said, annoyance clear in his voice. The sight of the captain grinning at him causes his frown to delve even deeper.
The man gives a smug nod, leaning on the locked wheel. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Red."
Adam lets out a growl, his temper flaring. The captain chuckles in response to Adam's annoyance. "Do you have a reason for calling me other then to annoy me?"
"We'll hit the port in about two days. Hope ya got an actual plan to finding Iron Crown bases other then stumbling around all of Mistral." Marlowe asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.
Adam crosses his arms with a sigh. "I'll go to Maros straight after. Someone has to know some intel on the Iron Crown encampments."
Marlowe hums in response before nodding his head. "Not the worst move ever, but they probably know jackshit about the locales of Crownies."
"And you do?" Adam coldly retorted.
"More then Maros most likely. While back, I heard on the grapevine that the Crownies recently lost a couple of slave ships. Fucking morons must of not kept their maintained or Oum decided to hit 'em with a storm." He grunts. "Least the people they stole had a quicker death then they would have in the mines."
Marlowe pointed out the silver lining, but it really wasn't comforting in any sense of the word but Adam agreed nonetheless, as much as he wanted to save his people from suffering in the mines, his cold realism told him it wouldn't happen yet. It was better to die at sea then to suffer in the mines for potentially years. Heknewit was better.
His mind moved on, not dredging on old traumas. He thought on the newly revealed tidbit of info. "When did they lose their ships?"
"Told Sienna about it arooound… about two weeks ago, maybe two and a half."
"So, before my brothers and sisters were murdered by Iron Crown?" Marlowe nods in response to Adam. "Then that means the loss of the ships was severe… and to keep a strong face they lashed out."
The captain of the ship nods in agreement. "Aye, I would say Iron Crown has a wound." Marlowe lets out a huff. "Even heard, that the Vale subsection was wiped out, whatever presence they had in the city. Broken if not gone. People are saying its Fang, but Sienna told me they wouldn't do that." His brow was raised, staring at Adam in a curious gaze.
'We wouldn't.' Adam thought. "We didn't." They wouldn't kill in Vale, it was pretty much an unspoken rule among the White Fang, no killing or anything somewhat illegal in Kingdom-affiliated locations. Would draw too much attention onto the group, something no one wants, especially now after the recent loss.
Marlowe stares at Adam for a bit longer before shrugging. "Then that means, someone has got a score to settle with Iron Crown, which brings in the question of them losing their ships… I mean that's some shitty luck to not lose just one but enough ships to royally fuck you up enough you got to pretend you're still standing in front of all the other kids."
"Unless of course its not bad luck but rather sabotage, but who…?" Adam replied, his hand to his chin, deep in thought.
"Who knows, maybe some Crownie gained a fucking conscious all of a sudden and decided to make Crown hurt."
Adam shakes his head. "Doubtful. Iron Crown make their disgusting followers show their loyalty to ascend in the ranks. A grunt would need to prove their worth, or their hate to be given a higher position, and if there was a traitor, they wouldn't risk retaliation, not until they purge all traitors for sure. They're unfortunately not that stupid." Adam finishes with a growl, so filled with rage it steams in open air.
"Know a lot on Iron Crown, huh?"
"Can't destroy them without knowledge." Adam bitterly remarked. With his thoughts entirely on Iron Crown, his left eye and tail begin to throb in phantom pain.
Marlowe's voice snaps him out of it. The man intentionally speaking loudly. "Thing is, Iron Crown aren't stupid like you said, so if they are weak they wouldn't hit you without making sure retaliation won't break them, which means either they're recovering quickly,-" His face becomes a bit more grim. "or maybe the attack has maimed White Fang in ways you hadn't yet noticed." The captain leans on the locked wheel. Adam sneers at the captain's words. The mature man doesn't respond to the sneer, instead continuing on his thought. "This is a big mission and there's only you, hell you aren't even a full on Hunter yourself, right?"
Adam glares at Marlowe. "Most if not all Hunters are indisposed, dealing with the surge of Grimm and while I myself am not a Hunter yet, I am still capable of performing this mission."
"Look, Sienna would never pull the rug under one of her own, I know that, but to scour Mistral and Vale for key Iron Crown bases, alone? That's a bit of an impossible task, no?"
'Is it?' Adam asked himself as he looks down at the floor in thought. A prideful part of him wanted to say no, he was skilled enough to figure it out, but the realist in him told him that while yes, he was certainly skilled enough to handle most threats, he however did not have any connections or trusted people to contact. To ask for intel and knowledge of the goings-on. 'Well, that just means I have to begin the task of creating these connections.' Adam thought, '...Perhaps I should of practised socialising back in Kuana.'
Marlowe's voice loses its serious edge, an easy-going tone replacing it. "But to be fair. Sienna set you up with me, which means this job is as good as done." Marlowe said with a shit-eating grin.
Adam scoffs at Marlowe's words, shaking his head. He stares at Marlowe as he speaks. "I don't understand Sienna's trust of you, I've never known her to deal with outsiders, especially pirates."
Marlowe huffs, rolling his steely grey eyes. "First off, I'm not a pirate, I'm a smuggler who sometimes deals in illicit cargo and sometimes sell military grade equipment to certain groups." He points at Adam when mentioning groups. "And second, me and Sienna have worked together before you even hit puberty."
Adam hums in response, nothing to say back. A silence fills the cockpit, as Marlowe goes back to staring straight ahead, leaning on the locked wheel. "...If you worked with Sienna so long, then why have you not joined us?"
"Because joining up means a lot of my contacts and suppliers cut ties with me. In their eyes it's one thing to occasionally deal with White Fang but it's another thing completely to join up, means my loyalty changes from profit to a group. White Fang is getting stronger, but its not yet reached the point where they're completely self-sufficient."
"Would you join? When we become self-sufficient like you said." Adam asked, genuinely curious.
Marlowe doesn't respond immediately, instead chewing on the question, imagining the future for himself. "...who knows, maybe Fang will become strong enough to rely on itself completely in my lifetime, maybe not. I'll tell you this much, Red. Calm seas or high storms, I'm in it for the long haul."
Adam gives a subdued nod, actions meant more to him then words, but the captain was here. Helping him with his mission. He turns to face the front of the ship, staring out of the cockpit out into the ocean.
"If we're all done with the reports, we need to discuss this new serial killer." A voice chock full of authority and irritation
Ozpin sighed. Rubbing his forehead as he sits at a round marble desk. No matter how many times he did these council meetings, he never grew to like them and he probably never will in the future.
All four council members sat opposite each other. They all looked at each other when the Wastelander was mentioned.
Perry Thomas; head of Thomas Industries, the largest construction company in Vale, with various subsidiaries in differing fields. Perry even deals in the Dust trade. Although his Dust trade could only rival the SDC corporation in price alone. Despite his wealth he wore humble clothing, a simple suit and tie. Nothing extravagant. His usual warm smile was replaced with a small frown, as if he couldn't keep up the happy image any more.
Pearl Sirona; director of health. A caring woman with seven years as a surgeon and five as a paediatrician. Various health programs that have saved lives have been credited to her. She truly cared about the people and the younger generation, wanting to make a brighter future for then.
'Good people.' Ozpin thought, he had no issue working with them.
Shae Anders on the other hand. Ozpin wanted to tear his ears off whenever she was in the room. The human general of the entire Vale military. She always had a chip on her shoulder, sneering at Ozpin and always with the backhanded comments about Huntsmen or Ozpin, or even both in the same sentence.
Every time he had these meetings, Shae would always take personal offence to his presence. Her grizzled face would sour like old milk, the claw marks on her right cheek stretched. The deep cut on the cheek revealed teeth and gave her the appearance of a snarling animal.
"You know something, Ozpin?" Shae muttered out with menace. She eyes up Ozpin for any tells, hearing his sigh.
"Gleaning the info from the police report, this individual seems to be some sort of demented avenger, killing criminals and only criminals." Ozpin replies, lifting a Lotus Lane coffee cup and sipping, his brand new addiction it would seem.
Pearl gives a sad frown. "Perhaps some sort of childhood trauma was the trigger for this horrid violence?"
'Or growing up in the Grimmlands kills whatever mercy you have.' Ozpin thought glumly.
"It doesn't matter if this wackjob has childhood trauma or whatever, we can't have them running around killing!" Shae barks at Pearl. "Mount Glenn is still in production, we don't need to have our focus cut in two. We need to find this freak and deal with them. Quickly and effectively."
Ozpin had the same opinion, much as he didn't want to admit agreeing with Shae. "A rare occurrence, but I do concur with Anders. This individual is extremely violent and seemingly trained. He or she does not care about the pain and suffering they wrought, so long as the pain is upon those they consider guilty."
Perry's lips are set into a stony grimace. "Do we have any leads on this criminal?" Perry asked, his voice stoic but still with a hint of friendliness. As if coaxing others to inform him more about the killer.
"Police report indicates they are utilising special ammunition that is seemingly one of a kind, no other leads at the time." A lie unnoticed by the other councillors. "Rest assured, so long as this killer remains in Vale, I will catch him and bring them in."
Shae scoffs, but the other two councillors nod their heads. Perry changes the subject. "Have you met the quota of accepted applicants, Ozpin?"
"I have."
"We've had a boost in recruitment ourselves… Most likely those who didn't make the Huntsmen cut." Shae mutters out, annoyance clear in the end of her sentence.
The room goes silent, all the reports and discussions already have been said. Ozpin stands up out of his seat. He straightens his jacket. "If that will be all, I need to file some paperwork for transfer students."
Perry nods standing up himself. "I have some paperwork to file myself, some insurance on Dust forms need to be signed."
"It was nice to see everyone again, hopefully the next meeting will have more fortunate news revolving this new killer." Pearl said, her smile warm as she looks at everyone. Shae didn't say anything, she just leaves the room without any fanfare.
Ozpin leaves the meeting room himself, right into the hallways. Treated marble floor, white stone pillars and archways. The very definition of fancy. He steps out of the city hall and is immediately hit with the cold air. He lets out a small shiver, looking up at the sky to find nothing but grey. The smothering of the sun by the clouds made the air feel even more frigid. A buzz in his suit pocket causes to pull out his scroll, a text notification.
{Toby: IMG-078}
{Toby: IMG-079}
{Toby: IMG-080}
{Toby: Found a guy matching the description and pulled what little documentation I could find on him.}
Ozpin opens his messages. The image of the mass murderer was unmasked before Ozpin's eyes. The images of his visa and bounty hunting license attached as well.
He was young, he looked like he was barely at the drinking age and yet his eyes were void of light. A few small scars here and there on his face apart from one large instantly visible one across his both cheeks. A jagged mark that looked like a grin. It was almost mocking, as if the actual person with the scar would never grin so widely like that.
He looks over the visitor's visa, as well as the Grimm Bounty Hunter license attached to his name. It matched up with Qrow's story of meeting the Grimmlander out in Vinves, as that was where the license was issued. The name of the Grimmlander plastered near the top of the document of the bounty license.
Alexander Wyatt.
Ozpin hums in response, odd that there was no colour name but he had concluded that since he came from a different society he would not follow the usual colour naming norm. Of course he didn't know that the real reason the Lone Wanderer didn't have a name based around a colour was because he was from another world entirely.
{-Is he still in Vale?}
He types away a message and sends it off, pocketing his scroll for the time being, heading down the stairs. A group of protestors at the bottom of the steps; men and woman, human and faunus all bundled together showing off signs and banners to any walking past. Ozpin spots a police officer standing at the top of the stairs, a bored look on his face as he scrolls through social media. Either this happens regularly or the officer was extremely trusting of the group of protestors.
He calmly walks past the group, a few of the protestors stare at him, a few with glares and a few with smiles. His scroll vibrates in his pocket once more, but he holds off on pulling it out, instead calling down a cab with a wave of his hand.
The vehicle comes to a stop before him and he enters.
"Where you headed?" The cab driver asks with a thick accent.
"Closest Bullhead station, please." Ozpin responds. Adjusting on the well-worn leather seat of the cab. The cab driver gives a nod, fiddling with his dashboard to input the address of a Bullhead station, to calculate the cost of the ride. With it set, the driver flicks the cab off neutral into first gear and drives off. Ozpin now seated pulls out his scroll.
{Toby: No data on him leaving, so, maybe?}
Ozpin gives a frown at his scroll, maybe wasn't good enough. He couldn't allow this individual to slip past his fingers.
{-No card charges or anything to make sure he's still in the cit-}
Ozpin stops mid text, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He doubted the Grimmlander set up a bank account so how would he have card charges? He deletes the message completely.
{-Any way to find out if he's still in the city?}
He watches as the writing prompt from Toby shows up, it goes on for a few minutes which wasn't inspiring.
{Toby: Not really, could look through some CCTVs cameras but if we don't know what area to keep an eye on to check for him for it'll take forever, if we'll even find him that way. Best bet is to wait for him to leave through a checkpoint. We can have him marked for detainment then you can swoop in and arrest him, simple.}
'About as simple as a heart attack.' Ozpin thought sardonically. The Grimmlander was dangerous and they knew how much of a threat they were. Attempting an arrest on him in a public space was a bad idea. It was begging for bystanders to get hurt or worse. No, this required a swift strike in a secluded area to ensure no lives were lost, but even then his Semblance that allows him to go through Aura like nothing was by itself a serious deterrent. The possibility that he could have dozens of these weapons even more powerful then the pistol just made the prospect of arresting this mass murderer damn near suicidal. Even a tiny skim with the weapon could cripple a Huntsmen, leaving them open for a kill shot.
He lets out a silent grumble. His fingers jab at his scroll, the only sign of his mood.
{-Don't flag him for detainment, instead just have him delayed until Qrow is in the vicinity.}
{Toby: ?}
{Toby: You sure, Ozzie?}
{-Positive, too dangerous to try and arrest him in a place with civilians, needs to be done in an isolated location.}
{Toby: Fair enough. I'll have him marked to be delayed until I give the go ahead if he shows at a checkpoint.}
{Toby: Right, I got to go. Got to go through some paperwork, talk to ya later Ozzie.}
Ozpin gives a pitying smile to his scroll. Paperwork, the enemy of all.
{-Thanks.}
He turns off his scroll and plants it back into his coat pocket. He looks out of the window as the cab makes it way to the station, stopping every once in a while due to traffic lights and other cars. He leaned on the side of the window, deep in his thoughts on the Grimmlander.
Ozpin was grateful for the fact that this Alexander Wyatt held enough sanity to not start a bloody crusade in Vale, hunting down every gangster and criminal. The city already had problems of its own, it didn't need a cruel serial killer running around, which thankfully the Grimmlander wasn't doing.
'Small mercies.' Ozpin thought, but it also made him think on the why he wasn't causing any more murders. Why he was focused on Iron Crown. Was he a victim of their cruelty, or just a bloodthirsty wretch that slew Iron Crown because most wouldn't care and it satisfies a dark urge.
Ozpin lets out a sigh. This was just going to become extremely complicated he could just tell.
The cold bitter wild rolls over Alex. The Wastelander doesn't even let out a shiver, more engrossed in his current project involving the portable A.G.
Music he never heard before playing through his pipboy's radio but he liked it, it was a new genre of music, nothing like the songs Three Dog put on, which Alex was grateful for, he had heard those songs to death.
Having finished connecting the final wire, he puts down his soldering iron safely back onto the newly acquired wireless soldering kit. He was actually happy or as happy as he could get with this purchase as he didn't even go out to get it specifically, only coming across it when looking for a bundle of maps of the world. it was cheap for what it was and above all wireless, he could power it with a standard rechargeable battery which he bought, he would have to figure out a way to recharge it out in the wilds.
With the wires all connected, he pulls out his screwdriver and sets the wire fittings in place, ensuring the wires and fission batteries weren't loose. The entire rewiring of the portable A.G was simple but time-consuming, but it was important, he had to make sure the wires could be capable of handing the increased voltage from the fission batteries.
The increased power would boost the range and going off how long fission batteries usually last, he would give the portable a solid 100 years before it ran out of charge if it was in constant use. Regularly turning it off and on would conserve it for far longer.
He lifts up the portable A.G. The two fission batteries hung on the sides of the device, the faded casing of the batteries made the writing completely illegible. As the song on his pipboy ends, a voice comes blaring through.
"Welcome back, my friends! Surely you have all heard about the recent mass murder performed upon Blair street, a group of Iron Crown dead. While I hold no sympathy for Iron Crown, I have a revelation to unfold before you all about the case-"
Alex gives a side-eye to his pipboy. A bit curious on what the radio host was about to say.
"The perpetrator is… a being from another world!"
Alex snorts in amusement.
"How do I know this, you may ask? Well, from what my inside contacts say this being uses weapons that doesn't exist anywhere else on Remnant! That screams off-world to me, my friends!" The radio host's voice gains a mocking tone. "Imagine being such a vile person that even an alien wants to kill you…" The tone is gone, replaced by something more friendly. "Moving onto more important things. I want to remind you all that we have Truth Hunter merch out now and its limited stock, and more importantly we have a charity fund-raising event on Friday for Helping Hands! Pop in, my friends, I'll have some amazing people on and if you can, donate to a good cause! Up next, an oldie but a goldie!" The eccentric radio host voice is replaced with an upbeat song.
He plants the portable A.G in his pipboy's inventory as well as the cordless soldering kit. The weight is shuffled around his body, although the Wastelander's unnatural Strength meant the sudden distribution of weight went unnoticed.
He goes about his usual routine. Leave the dilapidated construction site, avoiding crowds. He heads down to the same diner, take his spot in the corner of restaurant. He was intruding, his presence like a foul odour that leaks in. He felt the hairs on his neck stand causing to snap to the one staring. A mother with kind eyes snaps away, unable to stare back at Alex.
"What can I get you…" A high pitched voice is heard, tension clear in the tone. Alex turns to the waitress. She was somewhat used to Alex, so when his dead eyes settled on her she only slightly stiffened but quickly brought it under control. A notepad and a pen in her hands in her calloused hands.
"Can I have the pork ribs and the classic hotdog, please." If he was going to leave the city shortly then he was going to try the hotdog; a symbol of pre-war America, he was always curious on how it tasted, why it was so popular pre-war.
"What sides do you want?"
"Onion rings and mashed potatoes with gravy with a glass of water, please."
The waitress finishes the order on her pad with a poke, punctuating the end. "Your order will be with you soon." She quickly walks off, leaving Alex alone to himself. He looks from his corner of the diner at the other occupants of the diner. The mother from before fussing over her child, a smile on her face as she dabs at the messy cheeks of the boy.
He looks away, pondering on his own mother. He always wondered what kind of a mother she would be, what kind of a woman she really was. All he had to know of her was an old faded photo and saudade stories from his father.
Would she be ashamed of him?
Who wouldn't?
He shakes his head, letting out a silent sigh. Lucky for him a minute or so later, his meal is placed onto his table: A huge plate with a juicy rack of ribs, slathered in BBQ sauce, a crispy bun with a hot dog in the centre, ketch-up and mustard zig-zagging up the sizzling sausage. Buried underneath the mains, was the crunchy fried onion rings drowning in the hills of mash and gravy.
A large glass of water placed right next to it, a lighthouse next to the sea of food that was Alex's plate.
Unbeknown to Alex, he had received special treatment in the sense his food was prioritised to get him out of the diner as quick as possible. Like a leper he was unwanted, but none had the courage or a reason to force him out.
Fortunate for those perturbed by Alex's dark aura, he finished his meal quickly. The plate of food enough to fill a family emptied. He waits for the waitress to come by, she takes the plate and cup away before returning to hand Alex the bill. "That'll be 28.90, sir." Alex counted it out in exact change and handed it over. "Thank you, sir. Have a nice day."
Alex didn't respond, he just nodded and stood up, walking out of the diner to the relief of the waitress. He pulls out one of the scrolls, pulling it apart for the screen to turn on… only for nothing to happen.
No light, no nothing.
Did he somehow break it? No, how could he have done that, it was in his pipboy's inventory, he never took it out unless there was a reason to.
He clicks on the volume and power button in hopes of activating some sort of restart. It works but only to show an empty battery symbol flashing before switching off once more. It would seem his scouring through the internet for information on Grimm and Iron Crown had taken its toll.
He had two choices, either brute force his way into another scroll, or talk to someone and ask for directions. Alex decides to go with the former, spare himself and the poor soul he would question. He strolls down the street, the hustle and bustle seemingly shepherding him like a sheep towards the park.
He steps into it, like passing a threshold, the air becomes more still and calm in comparison to the frantic march on the streets. A gravel path leads deeper into the park, dozens of trees spread across the side, most missing their leaves but a few hold on in spite of the season. There was a shine to the grass, melted frost Alex assumed. He walks down the gravel path.
The path leads to a clearing, a playground with a small number of children in thick puffer coats playing, their screams of joy and entertainment fills the air. The parents watch on the sidelines. He notices on his path a boy staring up into the tall branches of the trees. The boy frowns sadly at the branches of the tree. A man kneels before the boy, rubbing his shoulder. He stops before them, his shadow cast upon them. The father stands up while the boy hides behind his father's leg, fear in his eyes.
Alex looks down into the boy's fearful eyes then up into the father's. He looks right where the two where looking, the father clears his throat. "M-My kid lost his balloon in the branches…" As the father mentioned Alex could see a balloon wrung around one of the branches out of reach for the father, yet alone the son.
It was not out of reach for the Wastelander however. He easily grasping it with his towering height. He untangles the balloon. He bends over, offering it to the boy. The child stares awe-struck while the father smiles. He gently pushes his son. "Go on, take it." The son looks up at Alex and the balloon before taking it out of the Wastelander's hand. "Say; thank you." The father taps on his son's shoulder.
The boy meekly mutters. "T-Thank you."
Alex gives a nod and steps around the two. The father and son walk hand in hand in the opposite direction. The boy smiling as he sways the balloon around.
Eventually Alex finds a secluded spot, away from the children and parents. A solitary cold bench away from the laughter and joy. He pulls out one of the scrolls as he takes a seat. He opens the device and begins the process of cracking into it.
He'll be done shortly and then he'll get out of the city. Hunt down Iron Crown and other malcontents.
If there was one thing Alex despised above all, it was mindlessly waiting. With the scroll cracked, he found an exit out of the city. A building settled into the side of the huge wall separating the outside world from the city. The building was spartan, no chairs, no nothing. Just a simple secluded desk for depastures and arrivals. Just like when he entered the city for the first time, he had to wait in a line, which thankfully was shorter then the one entering as he could see through the glass wall sectioning the two sides off.
He reached the front and handed off his bounty hunting license and his temporary visa. The baggy-eyed man flicks in the documentation onto his computer. His eyes slightly widen, noticed by Alex. He looks back at the Wastelander. "Sir, have you recently acquired your visa?" Alex nods. "Then you will need to step to the side and wait for verification. Sorry for the inconvenience." He said with empty regret.
Alex frowns but does as said, standing to the side of the check-in and watching as the others had started to pass through. Paranoia screaming at the odd action of the man. He scanned his surroundings non-stop, while keeping an eye on the queue.
His frown deepens with every person passing through with no issues, until his face was set in a heavy glower. A few passer-bys gave him a sympathetic smile, as if to say they understood. That helped his paranoia slightly, perhaps this just happens once in a while to people and he was just unlucky this time but even still, he kept his eyes on his surroundings.
45 minutes passed. Alex stares daggers at the receptionist who tries his best to ignore the glaring Wastelander, but the icy gaze on him made him shiver.
50 minutes passed. Alex's glare turned malicious, the receptionist hoping the earth would open up and just swallow him whole. A prompt on the computer causes to let out a sigh of relief. He waves over Alex. "S-Sir, you are now authorised to go through." Alex steps up to the desk, the receptionist slides the documentation back to Alex who snatches it. "S-Sorry for the w-wait." The receptionist utters, hoping to placate The Lone Wanderer.
It didn't.
He was annoyed at waiting on the sidelines like a fussy child told to stand in the corner. He does not push it however, instead heading right through the gate without a word. He continues down the hallway, exiting the building onto the outside of the city.
He lets out a deep breath as soon as he steps past the threshold separating the city and the wild. He turns to the city. It leered at him, as if pleased he was leaving.
The feeling was mutual.
Out here he felt more natural, less like a freak.
He starts to move, having taken the south exit of Vale, all he had to do was go straight to hit Mount Glenn, he doubt he would be allowed in due it being under construction apparently, nor did he really want to. It sounds like a big government project which means lots of civilians and the Huntsmen, Alex had heard so much about.
The feeling of being watched causes Alex to snap around but he finds nothing. Just his paranoia from earlier he tells himself, not knowing a large crow with red eyes watched him from a distance, hidden by tangle of branches.
End of Chapter 7.
Alex leaves, Adam shows up. This won't end well for Iron Crown.
Hope you enjoyed. As usual please leave a review/comment whatever and I shall see y'all in the next one.
Winter Solstice: A celebration on the 22nd of December. This day is usually celebrated with large feasts with family, presents shared with each other and so on. The celebration exists due to Grimm activity dropping during the month, this mixed with the general cheer and joy of families and friends joining together in celebration causes Grimm to become a mere afterthought during the holiday.