Fed By Your Dread
Qrow watched, or tried to watch, as the golden giant tore the cultists apart. He couldn't track its movements, just follow the trail of corpses. The majority of them had died before any of them hit the floor in chunks and blood. The blade was cutting with such speed and precision that it was nothing more than a blur when he did catch a glimpse of the giant.
Not a single shot was fired. Not a sound was made other than a few, abruptly cut off screams.
The Cultists were nothing in the face of golden monstrosity before them. Within a few moments, the only sound was of the fires raging above or a distant crack of gunshots or Grimm.
The golden figure stood tall as it turned back to himself and Glynda, taking large strides as it walked back, turning what she assumed to be its head to look down each and every gap between the buildings. Bricks and corpses were crushed under its feet as easily as one would crush a wet cardboard box.
He blinked and the thing was in front of him and his partner. They stared up at the red-eye sockets. Well, he hoped they were eye sockets.
"What name do you go by?"
Both Glynda and Qrow jolted at the normality of the accented male voice that came from the helmet, only slightly distorted with an echo, but human all the same.
Glynda held a hand out hesitantly, "Professor Goodwitch,"
It looked at her hand for a moment then held its massive Glaive in its right hand and took hers in its left with astonishingly gentle grip for a handshake, a single finger nearly dwarfing her palm. He turned to Qrow, "and you?"
"Qrow, also a Professor," he held his hand out as greeting as well, the large man took it,
"You are in possession of something incredibly rare," it spoke as he released Branwan's hand,
Qrow swallowed, "oh?"
"A Pict of a Custodian,"
Qrow's attempts to calm his nerves failed as his voice cracked, "You saw that huh?"
The giants- the man's- head nodded once, "very little escapes me,"
"With how fast you are, I'd believe it,"
Glynda cleared her throat with nerves still evident, "may we know your name?"
The golden helmet tilted towards her, "I have hundreds, which one would you like?"
"Whatever one your colleagues call you, then,"
A noise echoed from the helmet, sharp and concise. Almost like a shotgun going off, startling the two Hunters. A laugh? He's laughing?
"Kotek," the man said, "The Watcher of The Throne."
"Uh, which one?" Qrow queried,
"Either, otherwise I would not have given them," he took his Glaive in both hands.
The size of the weapon was intimidating in of itself, let alone its wielder. Just how did someone reach a size like the man before them?
Goodwitch coughed awkwardly as the giant stood silently over them, "your eagle, it's familiar to us. Do you know a… Saint by any chance?"
At the question, the Custodian, Kotek, faced Glynda with full attention, "I am aware of many Saints, both living and dead, you'll have to be more specific."
"Golden armour, white wings, she calls herself Celestine?" Qrow responded,
The crested helm nodded, "Yes, she worked with an Aeldari to revive the current Lord Commander and one of my own on San Leor. why?"
Qrow and Glynda glanced at each other before Goodwitch spoke, "she's here and we believe she may be a vital component with fighting against a natural threat,"
He remained silent, whatever was going on under the helm, the two Hunters weren't privy to it. The cavern rattled slightly causing the giant to glance upwards, "we are wasting time. The area is unstable and there are noncombatants nearby,"
Qrow hoisted up Harbinger and gestured around him with his free hand to the sound of combat, "you can tell over all that?"
"Yes." Kotek's response was accented by a distinct scream and crack.
Kotek was surprised when Qrow ceased to be and a black bird was in his place. His hands gripped his Guardian Spear tighter, "Psyker." While his voice was steady, it was the lack of tone that shot a shiver down Glynda's spine, "I assume you are one as well?"
Glynda nodded and lifted some small rocks no bigger than her hand, "yes, but not the same abilities as Qrow, scouting is what he's for,"
A hum that sounded more electrical than human left the helm as his mind worked, "you are to retrieve groups or crush threats."
The conversation was cut off by golden light from where Qrow should be, "that must be the Saint. Follow." he ordered as he took off in a rapid jog, more of a sprint for a regular person, leaving Glynda confused and far behind.
Kotek rounded a pile of rubble and climbed an even larger one to the top, from there he took in the clearing where a massive structure once stood, now demolished to make room for a camp. The cleared debris was positioned to create a defensive wall around the large clearing. Tents were stationed along the wall to his close left and a series of cages to the furthest right at roughly two-hundred metres, a maze of crates and vehicles scattered around being used as haphazard cover by the one hundred and fifty or so cultists.
Near the cages were Qrow and the golden Saint fighting the Cultists. Dark red contrasted the pristine white of her wings and the flames from the Ardent Blade torched all who were close enough. Her Aforementioned wings spread as much to cover the cages as possible from the gunfire, unable to leave otherwise the lives behind her would be at risk. A bullet skimmed her right temple, cutting dark hair and skin.
All happened in the span of a few seconds.
Kotek levelled his Guardian Spear and unleashed fury down on the gunmen firing on the Professor and Saint with the Bolter, leaving the close-quarters combat to them. Each shot was as rapid as it was precise; each gunman or woman lost their heads in rapid succession. Each gun fell silent in rapid succession, but the distinct cracks of the Bolter alerted the myriad of other hostile forces below.
With the immediate gunners down he shouted over the steadily increasing gunfire to Glynda, who had just made it to the top with him, "Goodwitch! The captives left side!"
The Custodian leapt down, landing on a six-wheeled truck parked below, completely crushing the cabin and chassis. If the Bolter hadn't drawn attention, that spectacle did. So long as the attention was off the captives and on him, the better.
"Some type of Atlesian droid!" a cultist shouted in a mild panic over the increasing fighting and growing drone of engines in the sky,
"I thought they were still in tes-"
His blade lit blue with energy while he became a blur to the mortals as he sped from the crushed truck and into the gathered cultists, some were crushed beneath his feet, others fell in perfectly square chunks from where blade met flesh.
Time appeared to lag with each moment that passed, not a single movement matched the speed of the Hetaeron Guard's insanely fast rapid attacks. Each strike was in milliseconds of speed and with immeasurable amounts of force.
The Guardian Spear's blade made short work of a cultist; cutting a perfect 'X shape with the centre point being the middle of their chest. Without so much as a thought, the blade swung around and met the torso of another splitting them in half.
When a large clustered group stood in his line of sight, Kotek converged with the Guardian Spear spinning like a turbine immediately tearing through flesh and personal force fields as if they weren't there. One was barely out of reach of the Guardian Spear's angle of attack, so with the spear in his right hand he gripped the shoulder of the cultist in his left hand and tossed them as hard as possible while he spun.
Kotek heard the body impact on a shipping container with a crack and squelch behind him as he turned the Guardian Spear back into a blurry turbine of death.
At the end of the group's collective life, four and a half seconds had passed. Two dozen were dead and not a single shot was fired from the cultists. He stood at the distant drone of engines.
"EY!"
He turned to the shout and found a dark-haired man not far away, moving back and forth in an attempt to mimic a predator sizing up its prey. Only Kotek's helm moved as it tracked each movement the man-made, ignoring the few other cultists that appeared with the man.
The man rapidly drew a hand up in a finger gun and took aim at Kotek's helm. In doing so, the Custodian readied to move once a commitment was made to whatever attack was planned. The man's thumb came down like a hammer of a pistol and an electric projectile came forth from the index finger. Kotek dashed to the left and then forward, taking a cultist out along the way.
The man, while unable to see the movements of the Custodian, still dodged at an unexpected speed, firing his literal finger guns in the general direction Kotek would be in.
Kotek threw himself into the few cultists and with a handful of precise slashes, the remaining cultists accompanying the Psyker were taken down, allowing full attention on the man.
Kotek came to a stop and held the Guardian Spear in a relaxed grip. The man, unwilling to enter closer combat, paced back and forth once more with his red-tinted eyes glaring at Kotek.
The man raised both finger guns, the absurdity not lost on the Custodian, and fired, this time an explosive round came from the second hand. The Custodian dashed in a serpentine as he rushed towards the man and in the last few meters, used the Guardian Spear as its namesake and jabbed forwards through the forcefield.
With a simple squeeze of his right hand, the Bolter fired and the man's personal shield crackled and failed in a spray of red.
A duo of bulbous airships circled overhead until one crushed a series of smaller tents to land. Kotek faced it, Guardian Spear bloodied and at the ready. The doors slid open to reveal a group of white-armoured soldiers and a single Sister of Silence alongside an Inquisitor.
The Inquisitor gave a sharp nod as she took off towards the Saint with the soldiers trailing behind her while the Sister flicked her fingers in a pattern rapidly as she approached, ignoring the threats thrown at her from the new batch of arriving Cultists.
"Sister! On me!" Kotek shouted over the abruptly increasing gunfire.
She nodded and a faint uncomfortableness washed over him as if his skin grew a tad tighter. A mere annoyance to be gotten used to as the Cultists encircled them in an attempt to overwhelm the duo. In response, the Null intensified as the Guardian Spear was twirled in a challenge.
As the Cultists charged, the two became a flurry of action, from the Guardian Spear separating halves of a body and slicing with near surgical precision to the Bolter making viscera and violent clouds of red mist. Either way, they became a blend of perfect movements that covered each other.
The Sister of Silence barely flinched as the sparking blade of the Guardian Spear missed her head by a hair's width as they danced around each other. The Sister even weaved between and around his legs with surprisingly practised ease and grace using taps against his armour to signal her location and direction.
Old- ancient- and distant memories flashed briefly in the Custodian's mind.
Even if one made it past the Guardian Spear, the Null would have rendered them useless. Some didn't even need to make it that close for it to destroy their psyche.
Their weapons fell silent as the last cultist toppled, blood squirting and gushing from where their head once was, now a torn stump sat upon a pair of shoulders. The blade hummed with its notorious blue hue of energy while blood boiled and popped off it. They circled with their backs to each other, waiting and poised for an attack.
Kotek slowly rose and glanced at the Sister, "what is your name, Sister?"
Her hands flicked, "Alexea,"
"You fight well enough,"
She nodded in thanks.
His helmet jerked in the direction of the rest of the camp, "Come, we will clear the camp out on this side. If a leader is found, capture them."
The duo slowly and methodically swept through the tents, soaking the canvas structures and ground red as bodies fell in the dozens and dozens of pieces. A cultist rushed from the side and found himself further back from where he came with a crushed rib cage.
Any that threw themselves at the Custodian met their rapid end, more often than not seeing what the blow that killed them was. Every now and then, amidst the Boltershots from the Sister of Silence came an unbalanced scream as minds collapsed, much like the cavern was beginning to do.
Sections of the roof crumbled, as did the skyscrapers that acted as the massive support pillars. While it was limited to a few distant sections, it was bound to spread to the entire cavern eventually, just like the fires were starting to do.
He just idly hoped they weren't here when it did.
Kotek let his Guardian Spear and hand go on auto-pilot until he and the Sister came up to a large tent. The Custodian let the Sister remove the entrenched guards by simply allowing her to get closer and acted as a living shield, in doing so the first and only projectiles bounced harmlessly off his ornate armour.
As he strode in between the piles of crates and boxes being used as a cover with the sister at his side, only a few cultists had to be eradicated by his Bolter, the rest fell into insanity and killed their comrades or themselves. Some quickly, others slowly.
One was repeatedly slamming her head into the corner side of a metal box with wet, meaty thuds and cracks as her skull shattered a bit more with each impact. Another was on their knees with their back bent as far as it could go, slowly snapping as the natural limitations on the muscles contractions ceased and he screamed with blood gushing down his face from his nose, eyes and mouth.
Others simply beat themselves or each other into pulps before turning on themselves.
His mind briefly imagined what would have become of them if it were Krole, not an average Sister and was amazed to find he couldn't despite experiencing it when she was alive, before the assault on the Palace. Even he would suffer in her presence, let alone an average human who could not see her.
Kotek followed the Sister inside the large tent, barely fitting with the peak of his helm pushing the canvas roof up further than it should go.
A single, wild shot rang out from the third occupant, a man on the other end of the tent, the projectile missed and placed a new hole within the tent's sides. How the shot missed, the Custodian would never know, but it was of no importance as the Null field eased while the Sister pistol-whipped the man to the ground and placed a foot firmly on his back to hold him there.
Kotek took a single step forward, ignoring the tearing off the canvas from his helm, "I assume you may be the leader?"
The man nodded into the floor.
"You have information that I require. Example; is this the only branch?"
He received a shake of the Sister's head and a verbal no from the man. Intriguing, the Sister knew.
"Sister, how willing is one of these to talk?"
She shrugged and signed, the only experience I have is with killing a hit team.
So any which way on that scale. The Cavern had little time left standing yet information was needed to be extracted. He turned to the exit of the tent, "Stay here, I shall retrieve the Inquisitor."
His armour clattered together as his feet pounded on the ground in a sprint behind his Squad Lead and the armoured woman. He didn't know who was worse, this so-called Inquisitor or that other thing.
Lingering nausea brought forth a shudder. The Inquisitor was far better.
A burst of cracks and the man next to him crumpled head first onto the ground, white bits of armour shattered and coated red.
Clifford barely heard his Sergeant scream for cover over the monstrous booms from the Inquisitor's weapon. He dived behind the nearest object, a series of wooden crates and flared his Aura unlike the man before.
He peeked up and shouldered his rifle. His first target was a poorly trained cultist, their head stuck up just a bit too high from behind a series of debris and crates. He squeezed the trigger gently, yet the recoil was harsh as the rifle discharged with an electric crack.
Aura flared on the person and they stumbled but not before another shot hit them, turning their head into a mist.
More loud booms came from the Inquisitor and her target's chest vapourised, Aura played no factor in the hits, being seemingly ignored at best or destroyed in two shots at worst.
Movement to the right showed a series of more Cultists and he swung his rifle around. He pulled the trigger again, this time in rapid succession and the rifle barely moved. Clifford's fellow squad saw the targets of opportunity and opened fire, the Aura of some granted enough time for cover to be taken, but most fell under the concentrated fire.
Another target was to his left, prepping some grenade. He settled his sights on them, even as bullets whizzed past or impacted the crate in front of him, and squeezed.
A fist-sized hole blew through the cultist's shoulder and another in their chest. They dropped heavily to the ground behind the cover and were engulfed in flames as the Fire Dust detonated.
"Push!" came his Sergeant's orders.
The squad began to move from cover to cover, methodically; two would advance under covering fire then provide cover for the others to move up. Rinse and repeat.
Cate by crate, truck by truck, they slowly advanced forward with bodies being left in their wake. In the Inquisitor's case, any who poked out of cover proceeded to promptly collapse behind it, a cloud of fine red in their wake. Any projectile pinged and bounced off her armour but she remained steadfast in her advance; not a flinch nor reaction other than slaughtering those who shot at her came from the Inquisitor.
A blast and shockwave from his left threw him off his feet and onto his side, his Aura and armour taking most of the damage. He tried to get to his hands and knees but a bullet punctured his armour and knocked him to the ground, winding him and sending his vision dark.
A hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him roughly behind cover.
"Hey! Hey! Get up and fight!" He rolled onto his hands and knees coughing and groaning as his HUD reset itself. He crawled over to his GHK-109 and collected it in his right hand and used his left to clear the underbarrel attachment of dirt. He looked up in front of him to find a broken and charred set of armour lay crumpled just to the side of where the blast went off.
He stumbled to his feet and shuddered as screams from the tents outshone the sounds of combat. He'd heard the screams of the dying in a few towns under attack from bandits or Grimm in Mistral, but that?
His heart quickened as the screams were abruptly cut off by loud, almost explosion-like shots just like that Inquisitor's weapon-
A hand spun him around whilst shoving him forward, "Get out there and fight!"
Clifford didn't need to turn back to find who did that, as the Inquisitor and the squad's Medic sprinted past him up to his squad. They thought I was dead…
No surprise, not only was he blown up, he toppled over when his armour was punctured. He shook his head and bolted up to the nearest squad member, "Blue comn' up behind!"
Unable to stop his momentum in time, he shoulder-slammed into the side of the flatbed and used the bonnet as a mount while his squad member knelt around the front, popping off a shot where she could.
He watched as shots were exchanged between the two groups and jolted at the periodic sound of the Inquisitor's weapon. However, just before he began firing upon the Cultists, a truck on the right exploded into the gap between the two warring groups, the blast scattering chunks of metal and burning fuel into the battle as the golden giant charged through it with a Beowulf impaled on its weapon.
"Comms! Tell the General that Grimm are starting to show!"
The dissolving corpse slid off as the giant spun the weapon at ludicrous speeds and advanced through the defender's lines, butchering anyone in his way with the blade or turning them into nothing but red mist with the projectile weapon on the end. Or he thought it was on the end; the weapon was nothing but a blur and he never stopped it from moving to fire, but the familiar boom came from it.
"Honestly, it's just arty on a stick!" the squad member, his Sergeant, muttered with fear tinging her voice,
"It's so damn fast…" he said back. His eyes flicked to his HUD that barely registered the thing on radar, "can- can you track it?"
When they left the Bullhead minutes prior, none of them had thought the giant would be of much use like the Inquisitor said it would. Hell, on the ship down, the term 'Custodian' gave them an image of someone who was an old banker or a librarian, some even laughed it off then and there. He laughed it off.
And by the Gods did he feel like a dick for laughing now.
The Inquisitor threw herself into the fray, her own sword becoming a flurry of death to all who got in range.
He looked to his CO, "Where'd she get the Sword from?"
"Fuck if I know nor care! The woman's a bitch and scary as hell!" the Sergeant shouldered her marksman variant of the GHK-109, "lay down covering fire!"
He followed the order and fired on whatever target he found, each shot landing on its mark, but sometimes requiring a follow-up to puncture Aura. He let his aim snap to wherever his gut told him, experience in firefights leading the way. But it soon lingered on the cultist who stood in front of the Custodian. A dark-red, leathery gauntlet and red mist blocked the view.
It was as the gauntlet pulled back and the Cultist fell, did he note the lack of head and gold covered with red. The Custodians fist uncurled and took hold of its weapon in a now bloodied hand.
His rifle lowered slightly and his eyes wandered across the battlefield. Grimm left a mess after an attack, but the dead were left alone and somewhat clean; slashes and pools of blood were the most common, the rare mauled bits left around depending on what Grimm attacked. Bandits left a few dead, usually guards or people who fought back.
The Inquisitor brought her weapon to aim at a cowering cultist and fired, the chest of the person exploded into viscera and blood.
It became obvious who killed who; the kills associated with them were full of precise bullet holes or concentrated ones if their Aura was strong. But theirs? Chunks were missing in squared inches, blood and organs coated metres around the corpse. If the corpse was intact that is. The Custodian's weapon more frequently cleaved the Cultists in two or threes, whereas the Inquisitor's weapons tore them apart violently. Viciously. Enough so that it matched the stoic disdain on her face.
Maybe his Sergeant wasn't far off with comparing the weapons to artillery; their bullets, no, shells detonated like a small grenade.
"Inquisitor Greyfax is leaving with me. Continue to the Saint." the Custodian's voice rumbled, drawing the squads attention.
"But the Genera-" the two were gone before his CO could finish, "motherfucker... alright let's move!"
The squad advanced cautiously towards where the Inquisitor told them where their second VIP would be through a maze of containers and crates that varied in height and any shape and size. Dead ends and circles led them in all sorts of directions, the only thing keeping their bearing being the compass on the HUD in their helmets. The further they went and the closer they got, the more and more corpses were found.
Even then, the labyrinth of containers still proved to be difficult to navigate with dead end after dead end, each usually filled with an unruly sight. One of which being gutted corpses, dangling from the makeshift ceiling, dripping the black ichor that was the blood of Grimm.
At a slower pace than any of the squad would have liked, they made their way through the bloodied corridors.
"They're not even cultists..." the Medic muttered.
Clifford gagged at the mangled half of a naked woman, everything below her rib cage gone and her chest was pried open. Black ichor leaked out, "are we too late?"
Their Sergeant breathed deeply, "not with that attitude, Private,"
He morbidly searched for her bottom half but found other bits of corpses scattered around. He lent to the side as bile rose up and gagged. He could hear others follow along.
After a short moment, they continued their journey again through the twisting maze, finding corpses every step of the way. The odour clogged their nostrils to a point that the taste of rotten meat filled their mouths. Clifford much preferred the taste of bile to this. It was easier to handle. Tasted better by comparison.
From around the next left bend came a cultist flying into a shipping container and was pinned to the container through the neck via a flaming sword wielded by the Saint they were looking for.
Her golden armour was coated red with splotches of black from some Grimm while her wings were more red thanks to blood than the white they were told they should have been. She twisted the sword so it's blade was horizontal, the cultist let out a final gurgle as a series of cracks and snaps signalled a destroyed neck, and the Saint tore it out sideways. Not only beheading the cultist but leaving an elongated, charred slash in the container's metal structure.
The Saint eyed the corpse as she turned to them and Clifford felt his blood freeze at the scowl that bordered on a snarl and the woman's hardened, flaming blue eyes.
His heart stopped when it was rapidly replaced with a pleasant white smile, contrasted by the blood seeping down her left temple, "Nice to see you have caught up. Come, the prisoners are secured by two hunters and myself but require medical aid," without much more of a word, the Saint turned on a heel and marched the way she came.
"We're here for a fuckin' pet of all things?" one of the riflemen whined, "I thought the wings were fake, but no-"
Their Sergeant rounded on them, "Cut it. We have a job to do, even if it's with the Faunus,"
"Yes, Mam," they echoed together.
They followed after the Saint with Clifford letting his gaze linger on the smoldering head of the Saint's victim for a moment. The smell of cooked steak rose from it and he marched away while swallowing more bile.
The crates and cargo containers rattled with the low rumble of Bullhead engines maneuvering through the massive cavern overhead. He took note of the lack of distant gunfire and howls of Grimm. His hands adjusted their grip on his rifle as his eyes looked over and past his squadmates shoulders to meet the bloodied feathers of the so-called Saint who was silently leading them around corners and down paths through the maze.
Next we'll be deployed to the zoo we gave them…
He didn't dare speak the thought, not that he would have to. He knew the squad felt the same, with how often they questioned the General's new mandates with the Faunus being allowed above an enlisted rank or even in positions of command amongst each other, it was hard not to know.
Now, the question was; is this "saint" one of Ghira's pets?
No. She was too willing to use violence to achieve her goals. The still smouldering, beheaded corpse was telling of that enough, so what was she here for?
"Outta my pay-grade…" he mumbled.
His helmet crackled with transmissions signalling two newly arrived squads requesting their position and status. An ear-splitting screech reverberated through the cavern before being silenced by a series of shots from either the Inquisitor's or the Custodian's weapons.
"The hell was that!?"
The Saint responded before any of them could, "The last of the Cultists on that end being flushed out and purged, now keep moving."
They reluctantly continued to follow behind her, the paths still holding a series of corpses in varying degrees of mutilation and rot. Little black flies formed small clouds that buzzed over exposed meat.
"Gods… what- what is this?"
"A reason to let not the heretics live."
His Sergeant snorted and muttered, "first time I agree with an animal…"
Clifford couldn't help but agree as well.
The Saint ahead of them suddenly began to slash horizontally and diagonally while guttural roars turned howls of pain reverberated off the containers, the bright flames of her blade lighting everything in an aggressive orange glow.
More roars came from behind them but were silenced by the deafening shots from either the Custodian or Inquisitor's weapons, the odd crack of a GHK drew further away and as increasingly scarce as the transmission while the roars grew in intensity and volume.
"Fuck, Grimm!" someone shouted as a black form barreled out of the cross-section they came from and into a container. Energy prickled at their skin and the air around them grew electrified with some type of power. The soldiers braced for an energy release of some kind but instead, the Saint forced her crackling, armoured form through the squad and behind them.
Blue, almost electrical sparks shone across the golden armour as the woman raised her blade, "if you wish to survive, run!"
The soldiers took less than a glance at each other before climbing over the corpses of Beowolves and sprinting as fast as they could down the makeshift halls; left, right, right, dead-end, back, straight, left, dead-end. Every so often their feet pounded through puddles of some liquid or other, then bolted straight before they burst out into an open area, the air grew heavy and powered in a sudden burst.
Blinding white light poured out of where they came and any gap in the makeshift labyrinth coupled with the dying howls of the Beowolves.
Clifford knelt over with his hands on his knees, panting, "Did she just suicide bomb them?"
"If she did, we failed our objective," his Sergeant told them,
The man finally stood after a few more seconds and looked around and found the two Beacon Hunters surrounded by corpses and prisoners, soot and ash slowly raining down from the pillars of smoke.
"Hey!" the radio operator called out, "The battleship and Bullheads are pulling back, the smoke's destroyin' their engines and lowered visibility considerably,"
"Jimmy's pull'n out? Shit…" the caped Hunter swore, earning a small look from his partner and Cliffords squad leader.
The Radio Op ignored the man, "Orders are to link up with Panther and Leopard squads then fall back with the secondary objective of destroying the generators and any power supplies we can find,"
Qrow groaned, "with all these people to get out?" he waved his hand around to the dozens of freed prisoners, "we need to bail now"
The radio op took a step towards the Hunter, "we are, just without air support and once all objectives are met,"
"I am capable of taking the generators offline," the gathered group whirled to the Saint who could barely be recognized under the black ichor that coated her from head to toe, only her wings and flaming sword gave away who she was.
"Well, you live…"
The Saint nodded, "Naturally, Branwen. The Emperor protects, as always," she suddenly perked up as if she heard a voice and looked to the furthest end of the area, roughly twenty metres away.
A container was forcefully shoved to the side, creating an opening for the Custodian and company to enter. Whatever Grimm that were around avoided the trio and sneered at the collective of people but never stepped closer. Even the two Atlesian Squads kept their distance as they followed behind.
The Saint on the other hand made her way up to the golden giant and knelt, "It is an honour to be a presence such as yours, Lord,"
His form cast a vast shadow over the Saint while he was lit by raging fires from behind. The Custodian stared for a moment and all bar the four outsiders took a breath as his massive weapon moved.
It was for naught as the Guardian Spear was held vertically in the giant's right hand, the bottom of the Guardian Spear rested gently on the ground, "rise, Saint, we bow only for the Emperor Himself," the crested helm slowly swept its gaze across the gathered people, "how are we to leave this place?"
"That is something I was starting to plan, Lord,"
He faced the collected Atlesian soldiers, "do any of you Guardsmen know the layout of this cavern?"
Clifford's Sergeant responded, "and who're you to order my soldiers around?"
His helm faced the woman, "I understand I may hold no official power here, however, a way out is not only advisable but a necessity," his voice grew heavy with command, "One I will, and am, taking into action by my own will if need be."
"And we answer to the General's command, not yours,"
The Inquisitor to the Custodian's left raised her weapon at the Sergeant only for a massive gauntlet to block her aim forcing her to lower it, "very well."
He faced the two Hunters, ignoring any and all comments from the Atlesians, "you?"
Qrow nodded, "best bet is near through the old tunnels, I've had to stop people from entering through gaps within the collapsed sections in the past,"
"We'll come out outside Vales walls," Glynda spoke up, "but it is preferable than being here," as if to increase her worry, a series of explosions followed by collapsing support buildings and chunks of cavern could be heard.
The Custodian nodded, "direction of both the exit and generators?"
"I know the tunnels are north, towards Vale," Qrow responded, "so, the generators and power lines connected to Vale's grid are most likely there as well,"
Kotek took the Guardian Spear in both hands and faced the freed prisoners, some of whom had followed the Saint's example and knelt before him, "all who wish to leave, follow our lead exactly!"
They hesitantly nodded and one spoke up, "some of us can't move what of them?"
"There are already too many to protect on foot," their faces grew weighty, "there are a series of trucks we can use to move the most incapable,"
A sudden heated gust of wind filled with soot and embers knocked down prisoners and Atlesian soldiers alike, however, their awe at the Custodian grew when they saw the giant had not moved in favour of standing firmly against it.
"Oxygen is being burnt up as the fires grow,"
Qrow's eyes watered at the dry heat, "a firestorm?"
"Potentially." red-eye sockets glanced at him, "Either way, death will come if we stay here any longer. Saint, take care of the generators and ensure the tunnel entrance is clear for our escape,"
The winged woman nodded up at Kotek, "it will be done, Lord," in a literal flash, she was gone.
"Qrow, Goodwitch, start preparing the people to move while myself and the Sister move the trucks closer,"
Clifford took a hesitant step forward, "Sir, where do you need me?"
The Helm never looked his way, "Drivers will be needed, are you capable?"
The Atlesian soldier ignored the glare from his commanding officer, "yes, sir,"
"Follow." the simple word commanded the other two squads to group near Kotek.
The Inquisitor's hat tilted back as she looked up to the Custodian's helm, "and what of myself?"
"Search the bodies for any more potential information on Callows."
Greyfax looked around at the charred and burning bodies left behind by Celestine and the few ones intact by the Hunters. Accepting there was probably very little to be found she started searching anyway while openly watching every move the Hunters made.
The cage rattled and the puddle of varying liquids vibrated as a series of booms rocked the underground cavern, sprinkles of dust covered his clothless and wounded body. By the Gods, did the wounds sting and ache as dust entered them.
He ignored the pain as he stared at his nearly invisible and distorted reflection in the rancid, dark brown and red puddle. Was the puddle distorting his image or did he really look like that? Bent nose, torn cheek and a bloodied hole where an eye once was. Where did it go? Probably in a puddle somewhere in the cage. Maybe one of the rooms.
The smell of the hellhole used to burn at his nose while he wept, but now the sobs and pleas of others hammered at his ears. Though they were far and few between, just as were those within the cages; only five within his one. Two men, including himself, and three women. There once were six, however, the Faunus was taken days before, his last sounds being nothing bar terrified and pain-filled screams of whatever was happening.
Leaving the five left in the same state as he. One of the women sat in the corner staring pale and horrified at her right leg where her femur jutted out of her skin sharply, the snap leaving the bone pointed and rough. The leg bent at an unnatural angle as she toppled onto her side and flesh tore further without a reaction.
Four people.
He looked back into the puddle with his single eye. How long until they all died? Hours or days? Minutes if the shaking continued.
Heavy footsteps coupled with the sound of dragging drew the attention of the captive to the poorly lit entrance to the room outside the cage. They knew they were in some decrepit building under Mountain Glenn, the guards weren't quiet about that.
From the doorway came two guards, dressed in their black undersuits and white armour as always. Both hauled a body between them and bits of armour and two weapons, both some type of large, serrated knife. The body only moved as the guards handled it roughly while they tossed the armour and knives into a corner haphazardly.
The entire building shook violently while the sounds of crumbling walls and caves resounded loudly in the room's inhabitants' ears. The walls cracked as the floors above could be heard collapsing. All the people within the room took cover where they could, the guards dumping the body as they dove under a table.
The cage suddenly warped inwards as a large chunk of concrete slammed onto the roof, through the floor above, crushing one of the women and the second man. He was thrown back and tried to scramble away but the liquids provided very little grip and the other people tried to climb over him to safety.
As the sounds of crumbling died out, he looked over to find nothing bar organs and bone squashed out like a tube of toothpaste were left of the people caught under the rock.
He and the only other person in the cage lifted themselves up with groans containing various amounts of pain and whimpers. He looked to the guards who were now clambering about.
"Fuck, those Hunters cause this?" the first guard spoke with a distinctly feminine voice as she observed the blocked exit.
The other guard shrugged, "could have been a structural collapse? But I thought I heard an explosion before shit went south…"
The first snorted, "you got a fucking shit reaction time then,"
The other angrily retorted, moving to check on the cage, "Blow it out your bloated cunt,"
"Yeah, yeah-" a blade whipped across the female guard's throat while a hook latched onto her cheek and tore it open, sending the guard to the floor clutching her throat and face in a futile attempt to stop the blood from squirting out.
The second guard barely had time to react before the woman they dragged in was on him. Many would have, and certainly did, kill for Vects rumoured consort to be on top of them, male and female alike. Yet they all turned out the same as the second guard; lacerated and cut in every possible weak spot in a matter of seconds.
The second guard gurgled as he fell into a bleeding heap at The Queen of Knives naked form, much to the surprise of the captives within the cage. She stepped over the dying guards, uncaring of the blood that splattered over her legs and other parts of her almost-light-grey skin. Before Yvraine and the Ynnari, blood was the most common liquid in Lelith's life, still is in many ways. Always being spilt in some way or another, but never her own.
The lack of armour and basic clothing was a testament to the prowess and confidence she held in battle. One would hold arrogance if a millennium was spent in the rings of Commorragh and all they had to show was a single scar and an unrivalled reputation for it.
Dark purple eyes took stock of the destroyed room as she tied her red hair into a loose ponytail, a dark streak went along and down the centre-right. The Hooks and blades that were woven into her nearly floor-length hair reflected what little light there was off the scalpel-sharp edges, almost as dangerous as the glint of death in Lelith's eyes.
The building shook a little more as gunshots rang from outside. Hesperax finished with her hair, leaving it in the organised mess of a ponytail it was always found in and took to what little armour she wore discarded in the corner. Dark armour that covered her legs from her ankles to her mid-thighs held spikes that ran up the outside in a line, while a set of armour covered her left arm. Spikes also running up the gauntlets outside.
"Hey, y-you gonna get us out?"
She turned her head enough to look out of the corner of her eye to find a blonde man with a single eye in a collapsed cage with one other. She let her eyes search for a door of some sort but found none. Most likely under the crushed side.
She shook her head and the female let out a sob while the blonde man stared blankly ahead without a word. In moments her legs and left arm was covered in spiked armour, while leather covered her chest and groin. Her bare feet made little noise in the pools of blood and liquids that seeped out of the cage as she collected her knives.
The blades twirled in her hands as she rolled her shoulders and neck.
"You can't get us out can you?"
She didn't look back as she shook her head again.
There was a distinct silence then audible gulp as the despair seeped off them, "H-hand me the guards...the guards gun,"
Lelith faced the cage, pity wasn't something she felt at the sight, the millennia in Commorragh crushed it, and any emotion like it, till nothing was left. She scooped up the small handgun from the waist of one of the guards and tossed it through the bars of the cage. Both the man and woman stared at it until the woman faced her,
"We'll wait until you're gone…"
Hesperax ignored them as she looked around the room; the doorway was completely blocked and there were no windows, but above the cage was the hole the concrete fell through. She strutted up to the cage and climbed onto the rocks swiftly. The cage let out a metallic groan at the added weight. She placed one of her blades in her mouth, using the grip to bite down on to hold it, she jumped up and used her free hand to latch onto the edge of the hole to hoist herself up further.
She pulled herself up far enough so she could use her other forearm to gain a foothold, and once that was gained, she sprung up to the next floor. The majority of the roof above was gone, as was the majority of the walls leaving concrete support beams and rubble behind.
She took a few steps forward and the drug that was horror, despair and a myriad of other emotions could be felt. The sound of a gunshot reverberated from where she came from below, followed by a second one moments later. A way out for many of their similar situations took if they got the chance.
An old life. That's what that was, an old life lived for far too long.
She cleared her mind and found the nearest window to her right, she sauntered over and peeked out.
The sight of an old, desolate underground city slowly burning met her sight. The cavern roof above was still slowly crumbling at the edges of a large hole and buildings swayed as others collapsed. The only lit place being a cleared section just off to her left a good kilometre or so away if the size of the people were anything to go by.
The walls shook and cracking could be heard around her. Lelith glanced out and down to the ground. Fifty metres down was solid ground, if it wasn't covered in debris and piles of rubble, she might survive the fall through sheer luck and skill. That left working her way down through the building the only option.
Hesperax let out a sigh with a small frown on her sharp, almost feline-like features as she pushed herself off the windowsill but peddled backwards as the entire window and a bit of the floor toppled away, eventually falling to the ground below.
She turned to her left and started her way down the damaged hall and over the piles of rubble and the odd crushed corpse, her movement near silent. At the end of the hallway, she checked both her left and right; the left was completely cut off. Halfway down the right corridor, the floor collapsed into an incline which in turn created a hole in the floor below it.
Without hesitation, she slid down into the corridor two floors down and straight into a group of men and women who resembled those who brought her here in the first place. The group had their weapons aimed at her in some form yet they barely moved as she strode forward one foot in front of the other, her hips swinging gently and her chest puffed out, tightening the leather covering her breasts to a point where her nipples and their piercings were outlined in vivid detail.
She let a small smile show her larger canine's, ones that could be considered vampiric in shape. Sharp yet oddly elegant. She knew any distraction would work, and she knew her body would do all the distracting she needed; many eyed her with awe and envy over her figure, not that she blamed them, no. She knew what she was.
Lelith let one hand slide down her abdominal muscles and her thumb caught on the band of leather covering her crotch, the weight of her blade pulled it down. Her other hand trailed up to her breasts and pushed one into the other, showing off their handful size and accentuating her cleavage.
Amatures fell for the copious amount of skin and flashes of her breasts, or even let confusion roll over them. The experienced watched with interest yet held their weapons high. Veterans were the fun ones, never letting her skin fool them and meeting her face on in a fight. The truly fun ones were those who met her blow for blow, who could stand against her; the ones who saw her show and lack of dress for the taunt it really was.
The closest, a few metres away, lowered his weapon slightly but jolted as he was told off by another. At that, she dropped the act.
Dashing to the side and using the wall as a springboard, she pounced to the other and spun over the man horizontally; the blades in her hands and hair shredding the man violently before her feet even touched the ground. When she did let her feet land, she immediately pushed herself into another spin with the blade in her hands amputating the second above the knees before slinging them vertically at the end of her spin.
The third was bisected with the top half flung at the fourth and final person as a distraction to close the distance. The fourth recovered slightly quicker thanks to a personal forcefield and let off a potshot at her, one that she dodged with a dance-like spin and her blades came up across their outstretched arms while she hit the back of their knees.
The fourth sat upon their knees, staring in horror and shock at the profusely bleeding and shaking stumps. Lelith crossed her blades at their neck, and only when their eyes locked did she slash.
She used the body as a stepping board as she continued down the hall with her saunter and blades twirling slowly in her hands, flicking the blood off the blades and over the walls. Her eyes scanned every little corner with a dangerous edge to them and a twisted smirk displaying a canine.
They laid their hands on her. A privilege so few were granted and many tried to take. Those died, as would these vermin of a lesser species. This world didn't deserve to touch the soles of her feet.
Yvraine may have helped save her soul from Sai'lanthresh and a stagnant, boring life that being a Drukhari had become, but not the one thing she was perfect at. Natural at.
The blade in her right hand suddenly inverted itself in her grip as she stuck her hand out into an intersecting hallway. Her arm was pushed as a body impaled itself on her blade. Her smirk grew into a wicked grin.
With a push of her feet, she flung herself into the hallway and whipped her head to the left, her hair followed suit in a fling and the hooks and blades tore into the first of many victims.
Bullets ricocheted off the wall where she should have been, instead, she danced her way in between the corridor filled with guards in the same black undersuits and armour. Her blades minced and sliced through swaths of meat as she performed her more famous dances, leaving her hips and chest out for them lay their eyes upon in their last moments. No one could call her not generous for offering the dying their last moments to witness her body taunting them.
With a consistent, single slash of her blade, the last of eight fell. She placed one foot in front of the other and a hand over her chest with the blade in an inverted grip. She bent forward in a mocking bow. She straightened with an intrigued expression as the gunfire rapidly picked up.
It wasn't the actual gunfire enmass that intrigued her, no, it was the all too familiar thundercracks that drowned out all other noise. Yet something was missing from it…
Lelith's brows furrowed minimally as she continued to find a way out. The three or four Bolters over shone the rest of the firefight, which in of itself contained the cracks of powder weapons and a few energy-based weapons, neither of which resembled the Mon'keigh's traditionally used ones.
She made her way down a stairwell as the building shook and cracked more.
The fact that she could differentiate the number of Bolters in action was enough for her to raise an eyebrow. An Astartes Kill Team? If it weren't for Yvraine wanting some form of minimal cooperation with the Mon'keigh, being the lapdog she was, killing them would be a treat. However, even she could see the use they held in the survival of the Aeldari, as loathed as she was to admit it to herself let alone aloud.
And if this was an Imperial world, they would be the best bet off the planet if she were able to convince them. If not… a missing ship and crew would go unnoticed if she tried hard enough that is, or even just stowaway on a warship moving to an Aeldari held sector and planet hop back to the Ynnari to continue searching for Lucius.
With a semi-plan produced, she turned her attention back to finding a way out of the building as her feet met the tenth floor and a small pool of blood, entrails scattered out from a crushed body.
"Anyone know what the hells goin' on out there?" a female male voice coughed from down the hall outside the stairwell,
"No, last I heard was some fuck-off golden dude down there before comms were cut," the second female responded,
"You think they can handle it?"
"One man?" the second scoffed just outside the stairwell, "of course they can, there's like, a couple of hundred of us down there. Besides, we gotta protect the generators and power lines,"
"True, we can't contact the teams above or on the other side of the city,"
"You think the collapse gottem?"
"Yeah, maybe, if the other Atlesians didn't, the place falling apart would've. If we don't leave soon, we're all dead," A shadow on the floor gestured to the pool of blood, "don't wanna end up like that…"
Lelith burst around the corner, her blades swinging with perfected precision and dexterity. One of the women lost their head in a single slice, while the other was vertically disembowelled with a scream.
A generator and power supply? If getting off-world were to be made easier, disrupting that would certainly help, not to mention gratifying some oh-so-sweet revenge…
She stood next to the disembowelled woman and knelt down, "Mon'keigh," Lelith's voice was a sweet, velvety, sensual one that held an innocent airiness to it, "generators, where?"
"F-f-foyer...you'll n-neve-" a blade jammed into her neck and cut through her spine. Never destroy them? Never leave alive? Or was it a more juvenile insult the humans loved to spout so much out of desperation or in a last act of defiance?
Hesperax spoke softly- teasingly as she stood, "I believe I can, Mon'keigh," and tore the blade from the woman's throat, blood briefly spraying everywhere.
A bullet hit the wall next to her and she flicked her gaze up to another group, this time some held makeshift melee weapons as well as projectile ones. She faced them with her blades inverted and held up her forearms, nearly out of their sights. Nearly.
The two largest of the group slowly advanced towards her and she flung the blades at them, the moment they broke skin she bolted towards the left one and tore the blade out while smoothly weaving around him and silencing another regular troop.
The tightness of the hallway was proving to become difficult for all to fight in, especially the group of cultists. Luckily, she didn't have to worry about friendly fire as she stopped toying with them with her body and half-hearted attacks.
The result was their deaths in rapid succession with incredibly little fanfare; only dodging when she had to and straightforward attacks they would be far too slow to counter in any shape or form. They were barely worth her time in general if they couldn't counter her most basic of attacks.
The group on the floor below were much the same and so was the one after that, and the one after that, all the way down to the floor above the foyer. Each floor became a kill zone to be painted red and paint them red she did. Dealing with the bullshit was of the least concern but it helped play into convincing the Imperials to let her off-world.
Or it should, she murdered her way out of a cult on one of their worlds.
How many Mon'keigh could she kill aboard a ship before being caught? Stealth was never a strong suit of hers, but if all went to plan, she could find out...
She came down a set of stairs to a large hallway, at least double the width of the others, that held a set of double doors at the end. Said doors burst open with a few of the cultists running through in a panic, the sound of one-sided fighting on the other side of the doors.
She left only one alive and held the other with a blade at their throat.
"What's out there?"
The man stared with wide and wild eyes, "th-the Angel of Death!"
He began to struggle against her grip and was met with a slit larynx and esophagus.
Lelith jogged over to and through the double doors to a railed opening over the foyer itself. The room held two massive machines with large, thick cables connected and running from them out the main entrance that had its doors burst in and burning. Next to the generators were boxes upon boxes of light blue crystals and large jars of what looked to be powdered versions of said crystals.
Corpses littered the floor in varying states of dismemberment and burns, their living counterparts attempting to fight off their killer, a black liquid covered woman with wings and a flaming sword.
The thick liquid made many identifiers difficult to make out or flat out covered them up, however, the design of the armour and the Iron Halo held in place by a skull gave away what she was. While she had never met one in combat personally, Lelith had heard of the Corpse-Emperor's Greater Daemons.
Yvraine had spoken of one while reviving one of the Corpse-Emperor's so-called sons. Self-righteous and preachy were also used in between humble and forbearing, something she didn't know the Mon'keigh had the capability or capacity to be. Humans, so contradictory yet simple.
Hesperax vaulted over the railing and flung a blade at a cultist coming up behind the Saint, hoping the act would further her standing. The blade embedded itself through an eye socket and was just as quickly torn from it, splitting the person's skull in two.
The Saint took down a couple with a burst of flames from her burning sword and almost struck Lelith with a swing at another cultist, who had their throat and chest sliced open by the ex-Drukhari. Lelith took a twisted pride out of the briefly confused look the Saint held that soon morphed into determination as she took to air with a single flap of her wings, revealing the pristine white feathers underneath as the black liquid was flung off.
Fires surged forth from the Saint's blade, obliterating the remaining cultists and nearly engulfing Hesperax if it weren't for her reflexes allowing her to take cover behind a receptionist's desk.
The flames ignited the fuel, the crystals and the powder, with an electrical explosion. The foyer and the building trembled violently as the generators went up in bright flames, flinging shrapnel all across the large room.
After a moment of waiting out the final falling pieces of shrapnel, Lelith made to stand but felt the hilt of a sword whip her across the face as she was shoved into a wall and held in place with a vambrace pushed into her neck, the very tip of a hot blade touched the skin of her sternum.
She barely held back a snarl at what it would do to her image and met the flaming blue eyes of the Saint, who held snarl of her own on her lips,
"If I receive an answer I do not like, you die. If I feel as if you are a threat, you die. Move before I say so, you. Die. Understand me, Drukhari?"
Lelith snorted at the threats, "I left them for the Ynnari, Mon'keigh,"
A tiny smirk wormed its way at the puzzled look the Saint held. It was erased as the tip of the sword pushed a tad harder,
"Lies are commonplace with your kind, especially the Drukhari,"
Hesperax held her head high, "And here I believed Yvraine's almost-praise of a Saint,"
The blade eased ever so slightly, "pity, I have heard of nothing involving yourself to vouch for your words,"
"I do not expect anything, other than to let off this world and back to the Ynnari,"
"And how am I to know you will not assassinate the woman who brought back a Primarch?" the vambrace pushed harder at towards the end of the Saint's sentence,
"It would bring about the destruction of my species." Lelith tried to swallow, "Yvraine is our last hope at ending Sai'lanthresh,"
The Saint's brows furrowed as Lelith continued, "besides, Lucius the Eternal is the one I want dead,"
The two stood in near silence, the crackling of flames and crumbling wood being the only thing heard. The Saint suddenly removed the sword and shoved herself off Lelith, who brought a hand up to rub her sternum with a deep frown.
"I am giving you a single chance. If you are lying or become hostile I will end you no matter where you run to" the Saint spoke as she made her way to the door, "your name?"
Lelith followed with a dubious look, "Lelith Hesperax, Mon'keigh,"
She received a side-eye, "Celestine, a Living Saint and servant of the God-Emperor,"
The lack of a reaction of her name nearly drew her back, the woman truly didn't know who she was. All things considered it isn't much of a surprise, very few survived an encounter and if they did they were dragged to the pits or for the lower levels of Commorragh to have fun with.
"So," Lelith started, "Yvraine has spoken of you,"
Ash slowly filtered down from the skies as hot winds blew between the ruins lit by a burning backdrop. It would have been beautiful in its own way if such sights weren't common for the both of them.
Celestine led them down a ruined street with her sword still lit and firmly in her grasp, "I care little of what she has to think of me, though I am grateful of her actions at Cadia and Mcragge. As such, you are alive only out of favour to her for her deed."
They settled into an almost comfortable silence, even if Lelith was sure they both were ready to attack each other if the need arose. It, however, did not stop her from twirling her blades as she sauntered beside Celestine until they reached a massive, arched entrance to a tunnel that was partially collapsed.
"What is the importance of this tunn-" Lelith cut herself off as the distinct sound of the flames from Celestine's blade filled her ears.
Fearing an attack she dodged to the right with her blades up and ready, instead she found the Saint standing over a burnt object a few metres away. Lelith stood slowly to make her way over and stood opposite Celestine who knelt down and picked up the object.
From behind a series of headlights lit them up as four large trucks pulled up and the Saint shouted over her shoulder, "Branwen!"
A few moments later a scruffy, caped man made his way forward with a mass of gold that stared into her soul at his side, "you rang?"
Celestine turned and held the tentacled creature up, "what is this thing?"
The man's face swirled through surprise, concern and confusion in a matter of seconds before he cleared his throat, "uh, burnt?"
"I hadn't noticed," Celestine deadpanned, "it was in the shadows, watching…"
"W-watching? Grimm don't do that unless you're a known threat in the area,"
The golden giant shifted his gaze to Branwen, "those creatures can adapt like that?"
"Yeah, mainly near the Kingdoms and towns nearby. The further ya get, the more unpredictable they become. Age is also a thing; the older, the smarter."
The answer seemed to appease the giant as it turned back to her, "Saint, what is she doing alive?"
Celestine dropped the creature and its spherical top shattered on impact with the concrete ground, "she is with Yvraine, Lord."
Despite Celestine stating the truth, the red, predatory eyepieces drilled into her and for the first time in a very long time, she felt a slither of fear creep up as the gaze continued while he spoke, "you are alive out of a favour to the Aeldari. Step out of line and your corpse will be on my spear, understood?"
Lelith nodded. Perhaps Astartes would have been easier to deal with. She swallowed and maintained her confidence, "I do not wish to be in your presence any longer than I need to, Mon'keigh,"
"Nor do I, however, that is something for another time," the helm turned to a blonde woman, "those creatures, where would they be now?"
The woman brushed a lock of hair aside, "the Grimm should be here," the woman looked to the caped man, an entirely silent conversation was had between the two, something that the Inquisitor didn't fail to miss while staring her down with contempt while a... Sororita? No, the armour was different, a variant of one? Possibly. Either way, a Bolter was pointed at her, something she didn't fancy that much.
Then again, the massive weapon the golden giant held didn't look much more appealing despite it not even being aimed at her.
"Saint, she is your problem now,"
"I don't appreciate being treated like a stray,"
The Inquisitor's eye narrowed, "Funny, that's all your kind is; a fleeting stray struggling to survive,"
"And yet so are you," Lelith tilted her head with a small smile, "your outward fangs mean nothing to me, Mon'keigh,"
The Inquisitor's scowl deepened, "you will only call me Inquisitor,"
She leant forward as the golden giant walked past, "Hmm, Mon'keigh,"
"Enough, we are to leave first then argue as much you two like," the giant called from behind Lelith,
The large vehicles slowly made their way past and Celestine gestured for her to follow. The man and the woman waited until the vehicles were making their way down the tunnel before they followed behind the convoy while the Inquisitor and Sororita stuck with the giant at the front. Leaving herself and the Saint in the middle.
"Do not antagonise the Inquisitor unless you want to die,"
Lelith ignored what Celestine had said in favour of watching the golden giant at the front move with surprising grace for its size. Surprising grace for a human, even. Yet something about it felt off, she didn't know what or why. The age of Primarchs was a bit before her time, stories were told of what they could do before the Imperium fell due to arrogance and corruption.
And this thing felt just as ancient and battle-worn.
By far a worthy opponent, yet her mind held the want back with an age-old adage 'there is always bigger fish', and she had a feeling it was one of them.
A blade twirled as a hunger gnawed in her mind. Fear was for the weak. The cowardly.
She was anything but.
A/N:
Relatively important; I'm back at work as a keyholder and it's chaotic currently with a backlog of 3 months worth of receiving to do, so updates are going to be further apart. Exhibit A of this is how late this chapter was released compared to the planned date a week or so ago... I'll try to update as often as I can. But as always, they'll come out when they're ready.
I hope I did Kotek justice in combat 'cause goddamn am I scared he doesn't live up to his potential.
On that note, the part where the Guardian Spear couldn't reach one cultist but his free hand could. In character reason why he chose to toss the cultist: psychological terror; imagine your buddy getting pegged into a wall half a kilometre away by a Giant, Golden, Crack Addled Monkey that's zipping around faster than you can comprehend. Meta reason: it sounded cool to me.
Yes, literal Finger Guns. I thought it was stupid and fun enough to fit into the absurdity of RWBY.
The weapons of Atlas are from Soundwave3591 on DeviantArt, so credit for them goes there.
And finally, Lelith Hesperax. Originally, she was a part of one-shots and disconnected bits as alternate versions of this story I wrote when trying to get past writer's block and never intended to be a part of this. But the parts slowly grew more in size to the point that I have over 30k words with her and shaped to be its own thing within the story itself.
I considered releasing them as a separate thing to run alongside DI as a part of the same "universe", but there's no way it wouldn't crossover eventually and merge into each other. And I don't have the confidence in my ability to run two stories like that but didn't want what I have already to go to waste.
So, as my 2IC likes to call her, the "Murder Whore" is here.
Hell, the idea of Mt. Glenn collapsing the way it did and the cult originated from the section in this chapter. (that section dates back to roughly june 20th. It's old.)
But writing her and Koteks combat was really fun since it was more than "sword swing in direction A" or "bolter go boom, target dead" because she's a dancer and acrobat with speed unmatched by anyone bar Kotek and potentially Celestine. Though I do need to work more on writing Kotek's combat just a tad more.
No, I didn't forget about Clover. He just didn't appear because I wanted to keep attention on the Imperials and what he was doing will be explained a bit next chapter.
Now, review time!
Gilgamesh King of Mongrels: Damn a companion, it's basically a shark in a small pond. RIP Salem
Or anyone who gets on the Imperials bad side.
Guest: Well figuring out who the leader among the Imperials is gonna be interesting since all answer to the Emperor directly though the SoS might defer to the custodian more.
Nice touch on the Custodian's name Kitten in polish. Now if that is his formal name is up for debate as they have tons of them.
Just for laughs his various names is Kitten in various languages of Ancient Terra and some low/high gothic.
I love the idea of his name being Kitten in various IRL languages but no one knows what they mean. I have two more TTS references I wanna use, one in the coming chapters, the other will be way further down the line.
I think leadership will ultimately fall on Kotek as a Custodian when the time calls for it, but they'll be independently working together if that makes sense.
Guest: So we have an angel, a blank mute, a puritan and a Golden Banana a companion no less well Ozpin's secret war just got. really complicated.
Well at least they're right about Celestine being a Maiden only that she is a Maiden of The Emperor who is by all intents and purposes an Order greater daemon.
And now a Murder Elf to make five.
Gamesaturn: It is FUCKING Cannon
Great job best 40k fix I've ever read you gona do a card game scean with kotek:)
Lol, I like to think Volume 9 finishes with Ruby challenging Salem to a Children's Card Game!
In terms of this fic though, I do want him to interact with a card game for the joke but I want it to feel natural. So, definitely in the far future.
Brother Bov: KITTY DEAREST IS HERE
I cackled so damn hard when this review came through! Glad you like the homage. As a small note, he won't be like Kitten for obvious reasons, but I'll try to give him a few personality traits or references if I can.
Jctherebel: Awesome chapter
Thank you!
Guest: Wonder how will Ozpin and the rest of remnant's leaders handle Chaos manifestation since they'll probably think those that fell are redeemable and with the Imperials MO of cleanse chaos in holy fire its gonna be hard convicing them that sacrificing innocents to more is justifiable when comes to chaos corruption.
Glynda mistaking the custodian as a guardian of Celestine only later to realize said custodian is never going to take orders from her, requests maybe but orders never though both serve the same Master.
I feel sorry for the Faunus especially the White Fang that would believe Celestine would side with them if WF declares war on humanity only to realize said Saint will burn them without hesitation. I could already see them asking "why" only for her to answer that she serves the Emperor of MANKIND.
Anyway I look forward for the next chapter and the moral dilemmas of each side one being idealistic and the other fanatical but at the same time realistic to a degree.
That would honestly be pretty entertaining but Chaos isn't a threat here, so I won't be touching on that. Why? I got tired of Chaos in general. It's something I tried to show with Celestine pondering about the Warp in the first few chapters and something I'll get into in the next chapter or so maybe.
Yeah, that's part of why I had Kotek takeover anytime he had a moment to; to show both the Characters and you guys that he aint following anyone. Same with how he shakes Glynda and Qrows hands at the start but never does it to anyone once he figures out Semblances are a thing and a potential danger.
I like the idea of her saying something similar somewhere down the line...don't be too surprised if Celestine does, you've inspired me lol.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for your review!
E: Our homie in gold has arrived, I'm hyped.
I await more, as always.
Well, I hope this lived up to your hype, god knows I want Kotek to live up to a Custodians reputation for everyone.
Malgrath: It is my fervent prayer to both the God-Emperor and Machine-God that the Imperium fucks over Ozpin, cause I HATE that lying, manipulative, arrogant fuck.
Well, you'll soon find out!
Ace of Hate: Nice to see a different character than usual dropped into the RWBY 'verse. Keep it up.
That's part of why I wrote the first chapter out of boredom and spite; I got worn out from crossovers being Space Marines, Imperial Guard, a fleet or all trying to fight Salem who has Chaos on her side for some reason. And as I've said before, Celestine is rarely used, and never as the MC.
More Kotek and gang next chapter, and Greyfax being a bitch as usual.