Notice:
There will be no updates from 13th – 19th June inclusive of both days. I'm away at an expo and stuck going out with clients pretty much every night. Going to be exhausted, overworked and drunk or hungover whenever I'm not. I'll be back 20th June to write as normal.
That means no update next week.
Also, I know in the show it's Saphron Cotta-Arc, but since ARC Corp is a big deal here and the family duty is integral, Saphron calls herself Saphron Arc still. In fact, any member of the family marrying out would probably demand the person marry into their family and not the other way around. Her and Terra are still wed and still have Adrian. They just obviously wouldn't bring him here, and since Blake doesn't know he exists, she can't bring him up.
Cover Art: Kirire
Chapter 9
The boat rode up over the wave and came splashing down the other side with a stomach-lurching drop and a splash of white foam that came up over the inflatable, rounded edges and over Blake's legs. Then they would ride over another, cut through the top, and splash down again, the motor on the back whirring as they cut through the gloom toward the huge cargo container anchored out past the bay, barely within sight of the city's quiet docks. Approaching under the cover of night, targeting a Schnee transport vessel and boarding it with ill-intent. If it weren't for their overly fashionable attire, Blake would have thought herself back in the White Fang. And at least Adam wouldn't force her to storm a ship dressed in a suit and skirt! Even so, and with the dire warnings from Jaune about the Fist Office's violent record, she couldn't help but dread the upcoming mission.
"We're not going to blow this thing up, are we?" Blake had to shout to be heard over the engine and the loud splashes whenever their inflatable boat hit the surf again. She directed the question to Saphron, who was kneeling on the front with a pair of binoculars held up to her face. "Not with the crew still on board."
Adam's morbid response to that question had sealed the end of her time with him. She was less certain of jumping off a speedboat a long way out from shore than she had been a train, and thankfully Saphron Arc turned to face her with an almost irritated expression. "Why would we do that?"
"I don't know. Seemed like an obvious way to get rid of any evidence."
"I'm not sure how you think blowing up a cargo container off the coast, killing a whole bunch of people and starting an ecological disaster spilling dust into the ocean counts as `getting rid` of evidence. That sounds like a good way to create a lot of it – and to incentivise the city and activist groups to investigate."
Okay. Good. Saphron wasn't quite Adam levels of uncaring. Terra chuckled from her place at the back, controlling the motor, and Pyrrha was sat beside Jaune, having given up on trying to engage him in conversation. It wasn't that he was ignoring her specifically – Jaune had ignored Blake as well, too busy mulling (sulking in her mind) about having his big sister here taking over his duties. He was huddled down with his coat wrapped tight around him to shield from the cold wind and colder ocean spray.
The cargo container ahead was a long, flat, metal thing in a dark shade of orange-pink. The kind of faded colour that made her think it had once been red and was in desperate need of a new paintjob. There were at least two anchors coming out from it, one on their side and one on the other, both positioned toward the front, and the flat deck was mostly cargo containers at the front and a raised bridge and control tower at the back. There were lights on in the windows up there, along with a few blinking lights to warn ships away in the dark and even a spotlight angled down toward the water. Despite that, it looked quiet. It was gone one in the morning and the ship hadn't reached Vale in time to register to enter its waters, and as such anchored itself in place to wait until morning. The perfect opportunity for ARC Corp to approach, board, find the anomaly and get out. Such was the plan anyway.
"We're getting close." Terra said. "I'm killing the engine."
The motor slowed to a quiet whine and the boat suddenly became far less stable in the water, sloshing about left and right as the waves took them. Terra moved the handle again, slowly igniting the engine so that it rumbled like a sick housecat choking on a furball. Their progress for the last hundred meters or so was a painstaking crawl, and a test on Blake's patience. At any moment she expected the floodlights to turn their way, and she'd heard rumours from some of the White Fang veterans that even commercial cargo ships like this sometimes had weapons teams on board to deal with pirates or aquatic Grimm. A big ship like this wasn't going to be able to safely chart the waters without firepower capable of taking a Grimm down. Their inflatable raft with its outboard motor felt significantly squishier than that.
It was a relief then when the boat slowly drifted up against the much taller container and bumped against its side. Terra was quick to toss a rope up, and Pyrrha scaled a metal access ladder they'd drawn up by, then secured the rope at the top and signalled down with a thumbs up. Blake made to move, only for Saphron to hold a hand across her chest. "Jaune first."
"Huh." Jaune looked up. "Why?"
"Because Terra and Blake are wearing skirts, you little pervert!" she hissed. "Move."
"I'm not-" He signed and gave up. "Ugh. Fine."
Jaune placed a foot on the lowest rung and began to haul himself up, his sword dangling on his back by a leather belt over his coat and chest. Only amateurs held a sword as such, for drawing it was a logistical nightmare, but since Jaune never bothered to use the thing anyway she supposed it wasn't a problem. When he got over the top, Saphron sent Blake up next, and she scaled the side quickly, accepting Jaune's gloved hand and letting him pull her over the ledge.
They'd scaled the side near the cargo containers and a brief glance left and right showed they hadn't been seen. Or if they had, no one was challenging them just yet. She crawled so her back was to a container and waited for Saphron to climb next, then Terra, who Saphron helped up and then dusted down. Terra smiled, whispered something and knocked Saphron's hands away with a blush. Judging by the aggravated growl Pyrrha let out, this was just more of the lovey-dovey crap she'd had to put up with for five torturous years.
"Alright." Saphron said. "We know the SDC are smuggling an anomaly to Vale somewhere and this is our best bet. It could be in any of these containers."
"Please tell me we're not checking each and every single one." Blake said.
"Of course we are. What did you think we'd be doing?"
"That'll take hours!"
Saphron cocked a single eyebrow. "Yes. And…?"
Bloody Arc. This was just like Jaune and his casual ability to stare at a newspaper for hours and call it productive work. The worst part was that Terra didn't even comment, she just smiled and walked away, working on unlatching the first Schnee container she found and slowly, and loudly, grating the cargo container's door open. Stacks of boxes stood inside, and since they had no idea what the anomaly might look like, Terra walked in and began searching each and every one.
Blake wanted to scream. There were fifty containers at least and searching one from top to bottom would take a good twenty minutes. Split between the five of them, that meant almost four hours. Four hours of rifling through stacks of dust looking for something they wouldn't even recognise. What if the anomaly was a bottle, a crate – or worse, a container? They'd have no way to tell. No, that wasn't entirely true. They could tell when she stepped into the container and it tried to eat her, ripped her head from her shoulders or tossed her into a temporal anomaly where clowns wanted to eat her alive. Blake looked desperately at Jaune and let out a quiet, plaintive sound. He heard it and shrugged back.
"Sorry, Blake. This really is the only way to handle this. I know it's boring but look on the bright side-"
"Boring is good," she recited in a defeated monotone. "Boring means we're not in danger of being exposed."
"Exactly."
"What about the crew? What if they see us?"
"Our cover is that we're customs inspection officers. Here." Jaune handed her a fake ID, along with a printed-off warrant to search the ship. It might even be real given that ARC Corp had the local council on side. Whether it was or wasn't, she felt a little better for having a way to deal with crew that didn't involve killing them. "Just flash that in their face and tell them to speak to me or Saphron if they don't believe you."
"This isn't as explosive or heavy-handed as you made me think it'd be."
"What do you mean?" Jaune sighed unhappily. "It's totally unsubtle."
"Uh. We're sneaking here in the middle of the night with fake warrants, Jaune. That's pretty tame."
"It's a paper trail is what it is." Jaune waved his angrily. "What if they remember our faces, names or take photos of us? What if the captain demands to speak to our superiors or asks the dockworkers tomorrow? Think of how much explaining this is going to require. This is what I mean - the Fist Office have no subtlety."
He had a point. Not much of one, though. When he spoke of them before, she'd expected something a lot less bureaucratic and a whole lot more explosive. "It's better than what you made me think!" she said. "You had me worrying they'd blow this whole ship up from a distance to destroy the anomaly, sink everyone on board and call it done."
"Give it time." Jaune said. "Give it time."
/-/
Blake wrenched yet another cargo container open and stepped inside. Her night vision made her uniquely suited to searching them, which wasn't exactly anything she wanted to boast about. Another container, another set of crates, another opened box lined with bottles that she had to draw out one by flipping one and check over. After all, what if the anomaly was inside a bottle? It wasn't enough to just assume it'd be in a nice container labelled `anomalous goods; handle with extreme paranoia`. It might be hidden inside a crate.
It hadn't been so far of course, but Blake was determined – absolutely determined – not to be the first to complain. Pyrrha hadn't yet, going from container to container without a word, and Jaune had that dogged look on his face she was used to seeing. It meant that if she did pipe up, she'd stand out as the only one whining, and instantly validate all of Associate Director Saphron's comments. Tonight, Blake wasn't fuelled by professionalism – she was fuelled by spite.
Call me a useless stray, will she. I'll prove her wrong. I'll be the best damn agent she's ever seen!
Another crate split open. Yet more bottles glinted in the moonlight, taunting her with their glass curvature and lack of defining features. Blake hissed angrily and ran her hand over them, rotating each briefly to take a look inside. Dust, dust, dust, dust, more dust. Oh look, dust. Crazy that. Dust, dust, dust. The first crate done, she picked it up and set it down and went to the next. Dust, dust, dust, dust, dust, spilled dust, dust, dust, cracked bottle dust, dust, dust, dust. Next crate. Dust, dust, dust, dust, dust. On and on and on.
Boring is good, she reminded herself. Boring means the world is safe. Damn it, I'm going to have nightmares where I'm counting bottles of dust at this rate.
At this rate, she'd pay to have someone challenge her. It was odd that no one had really. They'd been here an hour and a half, over ninety minutes now, and whether they were trying to be quiet or not there was a certain impossibility to wrenching open big metal containers without making any sound. Someone ought to have heard them. Maybe they had. If she were a totally normal person on a ship that was suddenly invaded during the night, she wouldn't feel up to racing out to challenge those people. It was possible the crew had detected them, called the police and were hunkering down in a cabin for safety. It'd make the most sense.
The whirr of a distant turbine engine reinforced that notion.
As much as she'd said she would be happy for a change of pace, the two Bullheads flying out toward the container was not a happy coincidence. Not for her, and certainly not for ARC Corp. Saphron, Jaune and the rest met her at the edge of the ship, Saphron gripping the railing with an angry snarl.
"Terra," she said.
"On it." Terra brought up her weapon – a frankly gigantic sniper rifle that Blake was sure most people would use laid down. The barrel was large enough to fire anti-tank shells, and it was aimed directly at the approaching aircraft.
Blake shot a hand out and pushed the weapon down. "Are you fucking insane!?"
Terra stared back at her, eyebrow raised. "I'm only using the scope…"
Blood crept up Blake's neck. The fact that Pyrrha chuckled under her breath did not, in fact, make her feel any better. Saphron rolled her eyes, while Jaune spoke up in her defence. "It was a fair concern. You can't blame her."
"I can blame you, little brother, for apparently filling her head with ideas that we would shoot down unidentified aircraft. Terra?"
"Looking." The sniper rifle came back up and this time Blake paid actual attention to the fact it wasn't loaded, the safety was on, and Terra's hands were nowhere near the trigger. "They're not VPD. Not Schnee either. Unmarked Bullheads. They have their signalling lights off and are coming in low enough to avoid radar. I can't make out the pilots due to the low light."
The Bullheads buzzed over head a few moments later, flying to the other side of the cargo ship and then slowing down and turning back. So much for the idea the crew might not know something was up. If they hadn't heard them approach by speedboat, they'd surely heard this nonsense. Blake watched as the doors to the side of the Bullheads open and several figures dropped down. One had a white coat, but the rest were dressed in shades of black.
"What do we do?" Blake asked.
"We deal with the issue." Saphron said. She drew on a pair of fingerless gloves and stretched her hands open and shut. "With me. Terra, find an elevated position. Usual method. You know the drill."
"Yes ma'am." Terra sprinted off quickly, her red coattails flapping behind her.
Saphron shoved her hands into her pockets and marched around the container section of the deck with Pyrrha a step behind and to the side. Blake turned to Jaune, who shrugged and followed, leaving her to do the same. The four of them rounded the containers in time to see a tall figure in a white coat with a black hat orating to a gaggle of suited men. It was one of those men that saw them, pointing and calling something out. The apparent leader turned, a cigar burning before his mouth, to face them. He held a hand up as the men readied weapons. Blake tensed, but Saphron strolled forward like she had every right to be there.
"Well, well, well," the man said, twirling his cane as he sauntered up to meet them. "I don't recognise you, ladies. Wait." He eyed Pyrrha and blinked. "I tell a lie. I totally recognise you. What on Remnant is Mistral's champion doing out here?"
Saphron answered for her. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you and yours to leave this ship." She pulled out a piece of paper and held it before the man's face. "We are customs officials conducting a spot search of this vessel. You will have to return later."
Blake almost tripped and fell on her face.
Even Pyrrha groaned. "Associate Director…"
The men laughed raucously, and the leader did the same, taking the document from Saphron's hand. He pretended to read it, then leaned in with a hum and pushed his burning cigar against the corner of it. The document went up in flames and floated away on the air. "Whoops," he said. "My mistake."
"Apology accepted. I have another."
The man's smile turned strained. "I think you're missing my point, my dear."
"I think you're missing mine," Saphron Arc said. "Would you please kindly fuck off?"
He smirked. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"I do not."
The man winced. "Seriously?"
"I'm new to Vale." Saphron admitted. She looked back. "Jaune? This is your stomping ground. Who is this man?"
"What? I don't know. I've been here, like, two weeks."
"Two weeks and you haven't a lay of the land or the organisations within the area." Saphron tutted her head. "This is why you're not ready to run your own office." She turned back to the man. "I'm afraid we have no idea who you are, but if it helps then I probably wouldn't have cared even if I did."
"That does not help actually. I am Roman Torchwick."
"That's nice. I still have to ask you to leave. We're conducting a health and safety check."
"I thought you were customs officials."
"We were." Saphron smirked. "But then you and yours stepped foot on here and are in extreme danger of a workplace accident and I felt it would be remiss not to address the issue."
"Oi. Listen here." One of the suited men with a red tie stormed forward and grasped Saphron's wrist. He flashed a red cleaver at her face. "You don't know who you're dealing with, missy. You don't get to tell us what to do or-"
Saphron twisted her wrist suddenly, breaking the man's grip, then gave him a little shove with the same hand before punching her other into his chest. It was a good punch, Blake supposed. Well-executed. It would have winded and knocked her back if she didn't get her aura up in time. What it would not have done was whisk her up off her feet and sent her sailing some thirty feet up in the air and twenty feet out to splash down into the ocean.
Which was what it did to the unfortunate man.
Blake's jaw dropped.
Roman Torchwick's did as well.
That had to be a Semblance or something. The punch hadn't been delivered with enough power to throw someone back like that and if there had then it would have also made the man practically explode. Some kind of transferral of momentum or force but not damage-based pushback? Blake couldn't even see where the man had landed.
"O-Okay." Roman Torchwick said and took a step back. "I didn't expect that."
"I warned you, sir." Saphron politely said. "Workplace accidents are very common. If he had a harness, this might not have happened."
"Yeah. Well." Roman took another step back. "I'm going to have to ask you to-"
Saphron raised a fist in the air.
Instantly, the crack of a rifle sounded, and sparks flew up in front of Roman's feet. He took another hop back, looking up with a grimace. His men shuffled nervously. They'd obviously come expecting to cow some sailors and make off with some dust. Not to deal with Saphron and a hidden sniper ready to take them out at the drop of a hat.
"That was a warning shot." Saphron noted.
"Some health and safety officials you lot are." Roman groaned.
"What do you mean, sir? A warning shot is the epitome of health and safety – it's like a safety barrier. It makes it clear that should you cross the barrier and bother me further, your safety will not be guaranteed any further. Think of it like yellow and black tape but in bullet form."
Okay. This girl was a bit of a badass. Blake had to admit that. It looked like the would-be thieves would have to as well, because they were sweating and looking to their boss for leadership. He, meanwhile, was set to rolling his cigar in his teeth, swishing it from one side of his mouth to the other.
"Look," Roman said. "We're just here for some Schnee dust. You don't need all this dust, right?"
"We don't need any of it."
"Then why not let us take a little and get out your hair?" Roman offered. It was obvious he was buying time for something. Stalling. Blake eyed his reinforcements in case of a sudden attack. The tense moment was broken as Saphron tapped her chin.
"Hm. A transaction? Very well. One moment."
The man nearly fell over. "THAT WORKED!?"
"One second." Saphron repeated, then turned to them. "Can you point out the containers you've already searched?"
"Are you seriously suggesting we let a thief make off with the dust?" Blake asked.
"Why not? It's the perfect cover for us when people find out after. They'll blame him for everything, and we'll be away with the Schnee family none the wiser. What's more, it saves us having to fight them."
"Which wouldn't be difficult." Pyrrha pointed out. "We're much better trained than a bunch of thieves ever would be."
"It wouldn't be hard," Saphron admitted, "But convincing them to stay silent and not blab to the police what happened after would be – and you're an easily recognised face. Look. Robberies happens all the time. We're ARC Corp. We stop anomalies. We don't police people. There's nothing anomalous about people breaking the law, stealing dust or having terrible fashion sense, and if the SDC wanted to stop all of that they should have paid for an escort for this ship. The other option is all-out combat on a ship filled to the brim with explosives. Your choice, little brother, but I thought you wanted to contain this thing, not blow it sky high."
Jaune took the predictable choice. The boring choice. "Fine. Let's do this."
"Good." Saphron turned back and cleared her throat. "Ahem. My associates here will mark several containers that you are free to ransack and loot as you see fit. We ask that you do not enter any others. For the record, I'm asking at the end of a sniper rifle."
Roman winced. "Noted. And we can just take the dust?"
"Sure. We don't care for it."
"Well…" He looked back to his men, who shrugged back at him. He shrugged his own shoulders. "I mean, sure. Whatever. As long as we get paid, doesn't much matter how it happens. Not how I expected this to go but I can't complain. Some of you lot fish your friend out the water. The rest of you, try not to piss off the nice ladies capable of launching you into low orbit."
Somehow, from there, what should have been pandemonium turned into a bizarre schadenfreude. Blake, Jaune and Pyrrha left to point out containers they had already searched, and the mobsters nervously entered, picked out crates and began carrying them back to load on the Bullheads. It was tense at first, no one quite knowing what to expect, but after a few minutes and with Saphron going back to searching, the crooks began to calm down and even chat among themselves. It should have been the end of it but for the stench of cigar smoke sneaking up behind Blake.
"Sooo…" Roman lazily drawled. "Not quite how I thought I'd be spending my night. Who are you guys again?"
"Health and safety inspectors."
"Right. That." He rolled his eyes. "It's just that I'm used to identifying most of the factions in the city and I don't quite recognise yours. If it's not the dust you're after, it must be to rub the Schnee's nose in things. Which is no concern of mine obviously. Just call me a little… curious."
That was the most dangerous thing he could be in a situation like this.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
"Aren't you a-?"
"Don't finish that."
"Right. Right." He smiled charmingly. "Just a little banter between professionals on the wrong side of the law. You know how it is. You must be some hotshot mafia then. Those suits look pretty crisp. I noticed the different styles. Different branch families?"
"Something like that." Blake admitted.
"Don't want to tell me?"
"If I did, we might have to kill you."
Roman laughed.
Blake did not.
Suddenly, Roman wasn't either. "Wait, you're serious?"
"Deadly."
"Okay. Well. Shit." He puffed on his cigar again. "Neo warned me my horoscope was looking rotten this month. Last time I tell her to stop with the trashy superstition. I owe her some serious ice-cream now. Kinda glad I didn't bring her out here. Do you guys really not know who I am?"
"I've been in Vale barely a week and a bit and that makes me the second-longest resident here."
"I'm on the news!" he said, practically whining.
"We tend to watch… uh… different news channels."
Conspiracy theorist news. Tinfoil hat stuff. It was like subjecting her braincells to bleach but Jaune said there could be important information in there. Proper news tended to gloss over things that were odd because they weren't as important as the latest celebrity, political or whatever drama going on.
"Right. So, you're happy for us to take dust from the containers you've already checked but I notice your people are opening up just about everything. You're looking for something."
Blake shrugged. It didn't take a genius to figure that out. "It's not something you could sell for a profit. Look, just leave us to our work and we'll leave you to yours. What do you need all this dust for anyway?"
"Cash."
"Cash…"
"Cash." Roman repeated. "What? Money makes the world go round and dust might as well be liquid lien. You can sell it anywhere and a cargo ship like this mooring out here is an inviting target. They're usually run on a skeleton crew." He frowned suddenly. "Speaking of, what did you do with the crew? They're not dead, are they? Bodies are bad for business."
"Actually, we haven't seen them."
"Eh?" He almost dropped the cigar – which would have been pretty freaking bad seeing as how they were stood in a container full of dust. "You what?" he said. "We just landed pretty freaking loudly by Bullheads, you fired a dammed sniper rifle at us, and you're telling me not a single member of the ship's crew had complained about that? Not one?"
"Well… no…"
"And that doesn't concern you any?"
Suddenly, the ground under them lurched. It was slow, the stirring of the cargo ship, but surely enough it began to drift forward as the large engines whirred to life. Blake stumbled and bounced against the cargo container wall while Roman steadied himself by grabbing the door. Once the initial movement began however, it became smoother and she was able to balance easily.
Why were they moving now, though? Blake cursed and pushed back Roman to look outside. She could see the city slowly moving on the horizon as the ship moved ever forward. There was even a rattle as the anchors began to raise. A quick look up to the bridge showed the lights on as before, but from the angle they were at it wasn't possible to see who was driving.
"Jaune!" she called. "We have a problem."
"I kinda noticed." Jaune said. "Saphron, we have a-"
"I noticed." The elder sister hopped down from another container with a growl. "Blake, Rowan-"
"Roman."
"Whatever. Check the bridge and put a stop to this."
"You know, I'm not part of whatever you have going on." Roman said. Saphron began to raise her hand in a fist again. "But I'd be happy to help!" he yelped. "Positively thrilled. Come on, girl. Let's check this out. Ahah. Heh." His voice dropped to a mutter. "Fucking crazy psycho…"
You don't know the half of it, Blake thought. Working with a crook wasn't her best idea of a good time but she supposed she couldn't throw any stones with her background. Sighing, she walked alongside him up the metal staircase leading up the side of the main building – tower, whatever it was called. Despite growing up on Menagerie, she was not what one would call nautically minded. With the ship beginning to pick up speed however, they didn't have much of a choice but to deal with this.
It was probably the captain or crew trying to reach Vale and safety from them. Not an unfair idea, but if they were anyone more violent then it might have got them in serious trouble. As it was, Blake figured she could let the apparently known criminal threaten them a little while she stayed hidden. He could take the heat for ARC Corp, and no one would have to know they were involved. He owed them for pretty much handing the dust over.
"Hello!" Roman banged on the door to the bridge. Had this been a military vessel, it might have been sealed, but here it was closed by one of those rotating hatches. "Hello in there! Look, I know this is sudden and all, but we'd really like you to stop this ship. Preferably before we have to do something regrettable like take you hostage."
"Very endearing." Blake said sarcastically. "I'm amazed they aren't opening the door."
"Yeah. Yeah. I didn't expect the night to go this way. Cut me some slack." Roman grabbed the wheel and began to turn it, grunting as the rust seized for a moment and then gave way. It squeaked and groaned as it turned, and the metal door lurched outward with a horrible sound of old and uncared for metal. "Hello in there. It is I, the fabulous and famous Roman Torchwick. Please, please, autographs after the robbery."
No one responded.
That was kind of scary.
"Tough crowd." Roman chuckled nervously. "Okay, well." He stepped in. "Uh. There's no one here."
"What?" Blake pushed in after him and sure enough the bridge was empty. The control panel was on, dials blinking, and the ship's wheel was turning left and right, but it was doing so sporadically and more like the water was shifting the rudder. There was no one in sight. "But we came up the stairs!" she said. "There's no way they could have snuck past us."
"They could have jumped out the windows."
"That are all shut and unbroken?"
Roman shrugged. "I'm just say-whoah!" He tripped over something and caught the ship's wheel, almost falling before he could steady himself. "What the hell was that?" He raised his foot, looking down at some white fabric tangled around his foot. He picked it off and held it up, the fabric falling down to reveal a torn and jagged remnant of a white, uniform shirt. "The hell happened here? Looks like a shirt."
"A ripped shirt." Blake said warily. "Where's the rest of it?"
Roman seemed to catch onto what she was implying. He licked his lips, raised his cane defensively and looked around the bridge. It was quiet – too quiet – and the ship was still moving ever-so-slowly through the water. Worse still, it was becoming abundantly clear that no one had been up here to start it. Or that if they had, they had vanished rather suddenly.
"We should… uh… stop the ship, right?"
"Yes." Blake answered. "That sounds like an idea."
"I'm full of them." He was already looking over the controls. "Not much of a captain but I guess this is the speed." He cranked the lever down. "Aaaand it's not done anything!" he said cheerfully. Or hysterically. "That's normal. I could drop the anchor. Not sure that's a great idea but hey, nothing about this is feeling a good idea anymore." Blake was about to tell him that no, he shouldn't do that, but he went and pushed the button anyway. Luckily – although not calmingly – the anchor didn't drop. In fact, nothing happened at all. "The hell!?" Roman cried. "Something started this fucking thing up and raised the anchor not five minutes ago. Why the hell is none of it working now? Is it some security override?"
"Maybe. I'll try the wheel."
He stepped aside. "Sure thing, captain. You gonna take us further out to sea?"
"Less chance of us getting caught," she said, settling her hands around the raised knobs on the ends of the wheel. She wasn't sure what they were called. Maybe just handles. Either way, Blake took hold of them and tried to turn the ship left. Port. Whatever.
Key word – tried.
"Hngh. Guh." She'd tried to turn it gently at first, and now strained against the weight of it with her whole body. "It's stuck!" she hissed. "Is fighting against the current meant to be this hard?"
"Maybe you're just pathetically weak."
Blake glared. "Then help me!"
"Alright. Alright. Sheesh." Roman rolled his eyes and settled himself behind her, placing his arms on either side of hers and taking hold. He, too, strained for a moment. "Okay, this is a lot worse than I thought it'd be. On three? One, two… three!"
Blake threw her entire weight into it along with Roman. Not only did they not manage to turn it to port, but the wheel suddenly turned against them, forcing itself starboard so sharply and so harshly that they were thrown off the wheel and sent to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Blake's hands smarted from the pain of having the wheel wrenched out of them so suddenly.
"The hell is going on here!" Romans shouted and lunged to his feet. He reached for the horn's control in his anger, and Blake tried to call out a warning. The last thing they needed was him signalling Vale. Roman didn't pay any attention, too angry to care. "Does nothing on this damn ship work properly?"
He yanked the lever down.
"Uwoooooooorgghhhhhhhhhh…."
The wet, bubbling, gurgling sound came from below them and everywhere at the same time. It was deep, rumbling and most assuredly a sound given by a living and torturously pained being. It was not a ship's horn. That much Blake could say for certain.
Roman turned to her with a panicked expression. "Care to explain?"
Blake hated herself for saying it. Hated herself for, in her moment of need, having no better an excuse than what Jaune used on her. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for that!"
Suddenly, a loud crashing noise sounded from outside. Metal cracked and fell, containers were pushed aside and people began to scream. Blake rushed to the window along with Roman, their hands pressing flat against the glass as they watched the deck split open and the SDC containers be tossed aside like children's building blocks. One of the Bullheads dipped and began to slide down into the crack, but it didn't fall in. Oh no. Something came out the chasm, wrapped around the aircraft and hoisted it up into the air violently.
A huge, slimy tentacle a sickening shade of moss green filled the window before her and Roman both, thousands of tiny suckers with pincers snapping and biting up and down its length. It squeezed once and the aircraft exploded in a ball of fire, its two halves falling flaming to the deck, igniting dust and quickly spreading a blaze across the ship, which in response groaned again and twisted. Metal split open and the hull fractured as another tentacle slammed out the left side of the hull, and one out the right. More rose from beneath the ship, out the ocean, picking up and hurling the boat they'd approached on up into the air.
As a large section of the deck fell down, Blake saw the monster's bulk. She saw the fused flesh and machinery, the cogs and the engine burning away that looked half-machine and half-organic. The entirety of the cargo ship, its insides included, groaned and shuddered, metal and cephalopod-like flesh rippling wetly as yet more tentacles rose up out the water around them and latched onto the ship.
The anomaly wasn't on the ship. The anomaly is the ship!
"Is there a perfectly reasonable explanation for that as well!?" Roman demanded shrilly. "Because if so, I'd love to hear it!"
/-/
A sleek speedboat drove up onto the beach of Vale and spluttered to a stop. The driver, a woman, slipped out the cockpit, picked up a briefcase and hopped off the prow onto the sand. A man approached, bowing his head and greeting her. "Lady Winter. I hope your journey was uneventful."
"Uneventful enough." Winter Schnee smiled and handed the case to him. Turning, she glanced out over the water to the distant shadow of the cargo container drifting away. That shadow looked larger than it should. "It seems my gift to ARC Corp is keeping them busy. They really are much too predictable. Dangle a lead before them and they can't help themselves but investigate."
"It is an anomaly, ma'am," the man said. "Assuming they destroy it, they won't walk away empty-handed."
"True. But a sentient, infested ship turned monstrous creature is not a marketable one, so the profit isn't really there for us anyway. Unlike that," she said, nodding to the closed case. "Our guests are going to be rather impressed with this one."
"Will you be hosting the event yourself, ma'am?"
"I think that I shall. It's been a while since Vale played host to a Schnee auction. It's time to fix that."
It's another monstrous organic-based anomaly. I know that might come across same-ish given the Welcoming House, but I can assure you this is the last such one for quite a while. And there is a very good reason IT is here, which is obviously hinted at by Winter at the end there. It was chosen to distract and potentially kill members of ARC Corp and so the SDC chose a violent, dangerous anomaly to target them specifically.
Given it was to be used as a distraction while she smuggles the real anomaly to be sold into Vale, they went for the biggest, loudest, most attention-demanding one they could and tossed it to ARC Corp to keep them busy.
Next Chapter: 20th June (Two Weeks)
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