Chapter 10: The Myth Spreads.
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Cover art by Ars Goetia Games on Twitter. Their commissions are open, so go ahead check 'em out, or even their games: Hellslave or Blind Prophet.
Talking: "If I bow my head and beg God for His forgiveness."
Thinking: 'Will He breathe new life within me and bring her back to me?'
"Terry mentioned some new person been going around, called the Grimmlander. Been killing Iron Crown, took out an entire dock of them all by himself. W-Well, yeah! I know Terry is a bit of a waffler but he's not lying about this one, heard others talking about him."-Gossiper spreading stories at a bar.
Ollie fidgets in the lift. One hand tightened into a fist while the palm of his other hand rolls over his knuckles in some nervous ritual in an attempt to take his mind off the messy situation. He didn't regret giving Alex the job, his people were in danger and they needed someone to deal with the bandits and the Grimm.
However that did not quell the worry within him. He received a summons from Headmaster Ozpin himself. Someone as important as the Headmaster of Beacon Academy telling him to meet him in Vale? With expenses paid and everything? Foreboding was nowhere near a strong enough word for it but Ollie couldn't think of anything else to describe it.
Though it wasn't the end of the world, if he was going to be arrested for hiring an unlicensed mercenary, they wouldn't have bothered with sending him a summon to Vale. They would just send someone to pick him up in Vinves before tossing the legal book at him, then just throwing him in jail. No ceremony, no fanfare, especially not an all expenses paid trip to Beacon Academy.
No, Ollie believed that they, or rather Ozpin; didn't care about the whole hiring an unlicensed mercenary thing, more who he had hired:
Alexander Wyatt. The Grimmlander.
Alex headed towards Vale, and later on a bunch of Iron Crown were dead, bodies mutilated. Any other time he would say it was just a coincidence but he had a gut feeling it wasn't, especially with the elevator slowly rising towards what could mean prison for him.
The door makes a ding noise as it opens, Ollie steps in. A warm voice greets him. "Ah, Mr Verde! Please, come and take a seat." Ozpin said, waving toward the seat opposite him at the desk, a cheery smile on his face. Ollie gives a curt nod, attempting to hide his anxiety under a veneer of a professionalism and calm.
It didn't work in Ozpin's case. The experienced Huntsman could spot Ollie's nervousness a mile away. Ollie takes the offered seat. He stares right into his golden eyes. Like gazing deep into a snake's iris. Ollie clears his throat, gathering himself to sound calm. "Thank you, Mr Ozpin."
Ozpin shakes his head. "Please, call me Ozpin." A easy-going smile on his face.
Ollie nods. "O-Okay, may I ask why I've been requested to come here, expenses all paid for?"
Ozpin readjusts his position in his seat. He leans a little bit forward, his height almost made him seem as though he was leering over Ollie, the smile on his face weakens just a tad, unseen by Ollie. "Before we start, I need you to understand. I want the complete and utter truth, Mr Verde. No lies, half truths or even omissions. The complete and honest truth or else I will have you punished to the full extent of the law for breaking the law. I don't want to do that, mind you. You seem like an affable gentleman, and personally I don't quite care much about you hiring someone to deal with a threat. To me, it's understandable that you would go against the law to protect your home, your people, your family. So, please Mr Verde, don't force me to do something unreasonable."
Ollie takes in a deep breath, the smile on Ozpin was no longer as bright as before, as if it was sympathetic to him, Ollie didn't know it was fake or at least somewhat forced in a manipulative attempt to endear him to Ozpin. The good cop at the moment. "I… yes, sir. Anything you want to know."
Ozpin hums. "Again, Ozpin. No need to call me sir or any other formalities, I just have simple questions and that's all. If you answer me truthfully and to your best capability, then we'll forgot you even hired a merc, understood?" Ollie gives a reluctant nod at that. "Good. Let's start with a simple question, you hired a mercenary by the name of Alexander Wyatt, correct?"
This was no possible way Ozpin didn't know, rather he was testing Ollie's willingness to tell the truth and how much he would divulge to him. How specific or ambiguous the info he would give.
"I did, although the first job was not paid with Lien rather; a bed, food, water and a map."
"Did he demand extra payment upon completion of the job?"
Ollie's brow quirks at that but he shakes his head regardless. "Uh, no? He just came back with the bandit leader's head. Handed over the truck keys with our quota of Dust and that was it really. Took him to his temporary home for him to rest after that."
Ozpin hums in response. "The body of the bandit leader was burned, correct?"
"...Yeah, I heard about it from Dan, the leader's chest and leg was just… melted, almost like it was a puddle... I dunno what he did and to be honest, I don't want to, but he dealt with him and that's what I hired him for, so, I can't really hold it against him too much."
Ozpin suspected the leader had Aura, with him using his burn semblance against a single target, just like with Junior. Why didn't he utilise it more often? Why use guns when you have access to such a powerful Semblance? It had to be limited in some shape or form, something to keep in the back of his mind. He also didn't ask for extra payment despite dealing with a AAU. Did he not care enough to ask for extra or was bypassing Aura such a simple task that it means nothing to him? Considering how he dealt with Junior, Ozpin would go with the latter, but again that brings up why not use such a powerful Semblance more often?
"You gave him another job after that, correct?"
"Yes, we had a Grimm nest with an Alpha. A boy got harmed by a Beowolf, and so I was worried that the fear from the attack would result in a horde attacking."
"A understandable concern. He dealt with the Grimm and that was it?"
"Actually, before he dealt with the Grimm, he performed first aid on the one injured for payment."
"Oh? Did he ask for a large amount?"
Ollie shakes his head. "Just wanted payment, didn't say how much."
"Was his medical skills adequate to heal your injured?"
"Guess so, Hans is walking around, says he's still a bit sore and he's got a big scar, but fine all things considered. Our doctor praised his stitch work, other then that, I dunno how good he is."
Experience with first-aid and a plethora of scars? It sounded as if Qrow's suspicion that Alex's Aura was weak seemed to have some credence. Ozpin had to admit however, he was impressed that Alex is still alive, and still going after threats. Undeterred by his seemingly low Aura.
"Tell me, did he threaten anyone, act violently towards someone or anything like that?" Ozpin asked curiously. He wanted to know, more about Alex's personality and attitude. Was he just a boy broken by trauma into a cold killer or was he a psychotic animal that got his kicks from murder. Ozpin was leaning towards the former, considering he had saved Iron Crown slaves, but even then, he knew that Alex's mental state would be complex. His morals of right and wrong almost a complete contrast to others.
Ollie shakes his head, his lips twist into a frown. "No, he was…" The middle-aged mayor lets out a sigh. "He just kept to himself, didn't like interacting or being seen." Ollie looks away, pondering on Alex. "He… seemed aggravated with waiting for his license, but he didn't take it out on anyone. I could tell though he was getting fidgety. Getting uncomfortable with us, getting uncomfortable with socialising."
Ozpin's brows lifted just a tad. "That's all?"
"Pretty much, he saw one of your Huntsman and got… all weird, like he was ready for a fight. After that he pretty much did nothing, gave him the bounty hunting license, his payment and off he went. Towards Vale."
Ozpin hums once more. His two hands intertwining as he looks into Ollie's eyes. There's silence between the two, Ozpin staying quiet for moments in attempt to manipulate Ollie into speaking more, but the mayor says nothing. The old headmaster gives a nod. "I see. Well, thank you for your time, Mr Verde. Sorry to drag you out all this way for a few simple questions. I hope yo-"
"Wait." Ollie interrupts, somewhat stumbling out of nervousness. "I…-"
"-Yes?"
"I… can I give my honest opinion on him?"
Ozpin just gives a cool smile. His tone was calm. "Of course, it's what I wanted, remember?"
"He's just a kid. Younger then my daughter, I… I dunno, I just wanted to say that I don't think he's evil or monstrous in any shape of form. He's mentally fucked, but I think he's a good person, underneath all that grunge and ice."
Ozpin blinks at the man, his smile turned into a straight line. "That kid has tortured Iron Crown. Honestly, the word torture doesn't really give a clear enough picture of the pain he made them suffer."
Ollie shrugs. His lips in straight line, neither smiling or frowning. Ozpin had confirmed what he suspected but even still, he wouldn't shed any tears for Iron Crown, and he doubts he was alone in that. "He's got issues, I won't deny that, but I mean, I dunno I think being a Grimmlander has made him… ruthless, y'know? Cruel. but despite that; he helps people. Sure he asks for payment and all that but, he's not greedy about it, just wants to get paid for dangerous work, nothing really wrong with that." Ollie rolls his shoulders. "And to be honest, it's not like Iron Crown are really innocent victims."
"Do you think that warrants horrific torture?"
"No, I… I dunno, I just think it's not that simple, at least when it comes to him."
"What brought this on?" Ozpin asked, his brow slightly crooked.
Ollie doesn't answer right away, mulling on the question asked by Ozpin, by himself too. Why did he care so much? He could've just left right now, leave whatever this was behind him, but it felt wrong. "I don't know. Maybe my eyes are staring to go and I saw something in him that doesn't exist, but… but I think it does. Buried deep down. He acts like some Atlas robot; cold and empty, closing himself off from the world, but the act falls apart sometimes. He looked confused at times, like he was out of place. His eyes just… wandered around, looked for a monster that wasn't there, when he realises there's nothing. He just stands there, lost." Ollie shrugs. "I-I dunno." He couldn't give his thoughts on Alex a proper explanation, whatever words in his head came up short, not enough to explain the odd boy.
Ozpin stares at the man, the frown on the mayor's face, his calm eyes. Ozpin looks away, letting out a sigh. "If it makes you feel any better, I believe you are right about something within him." Ollie tilts his head in confusion as Ozpin turns back to the mayor. "He had recently saved a number of imprisoned villagers from slavery, he brought them home and took no payment."
Ollie looks down, he snorts to himself, a smile replacing his frown. He looks back up and speaks. "If that's all, can I go?"
"Of course, thank you for your time, Mr Verde." He offers a scarred hand to Ollie to which the mayor shakes. A pleasant smile on the mayor's face, he had thought this would go much worse.
"Your welcome, Mr Ozpin." Ollie said. The mayor stood up, straightening out his more expensive outfit, and off he goes, leaving the room via elevator leaving Ozpin alone to himself. The smile on Ozpin's face is instantly gone the moment the elevator doors close. The headmaster was sat alone in his office. He looks over his pile of student papers.
He repeatedly taps his finger on the desk, an idea forming in his head. Possibly a very bad idea but a bad idea was still far better then none.
He takes his scroll, calling up a contact in the news industry. The more the legend spreads, the better it works out for him.
The moon was the only celestial body that could be seen. Its shattered parts hung in the sky behind Alex. The Wastelander moved forward, passing by bush and shrub until he hits a flat section of grassland. Every step was marked by crinkle of grass being compressed under Alex's weight. It was kind of funny in a morbid way. The sound of their approaching doom, of their upcoming deaths; was the soft crinkle of frosted grass.
Concrete walls stood blocked his way into the dock, a watchtower on each corner. His shadow growing with every inch closer until it formed on the wall like a great beast, the moon glittering behind him.
He pulls out a makeshift grappling hook, the hooks of the grappling hook being bent kitchen knives, reinforced by scrap metal. A metal chain serves as the rope. With Alex's weight, there was no way a normal rope would suffice in holding him.
He swings the ramshackle grappling hook up the watchtower, impacting the edge and latching on with the point. Alex gives it a few test tugs. It held firm. Alex hums. He begins to lift himself upwards, he didn't doubt the stability of his grappling hook. Alex had made it himself and while it didn't look pretty, it performed its task as required. Almost at the top, he hears footsteps. Alex grimaces, speeding up the process.
"What the fuck?" A voice calls out, surprise and worry clear in it. "Shit!" Alex slams his hand on the edge. He throws himself over the edge, right into the guard fumbling with their weapon. The two hit the concrete floor, the guard sprawling out, trying to get his rifle free to fire at him. Alex was a bit disoriented, allowing the guard to use Alex as a spring board and push himself away from the Wastelander, creating distance between the two. The guard rises up quickly, gun at the ready, about to fire before Alex's open palm hammers into the guard's throat. A wet crack echoes out. Alex still on one knee, slowly gets up, turning to his grapple hook, removing it from the edge. Casually pulling up the chain.
Uncaring about the guard who drops to his knees with gurgle. The guard scratches and tugs at his throat. His Adam's apple flattened, he grabs at the flesh, trying to rectify it back to its normal place, but its pointless. His eyes water as he falls head first into the floor, the meaty thud marking his death.
'One.'
First kill of the night.
He loots the corpse, tossing the body over the edge, the carcass makes a hefty smack noise as it hits the floor. Bones cracking from the drop, if he wasn't dead already, the fall would killed him, or made him screech in agony, either/or.
He moves around the watchtower, granting him a better view of the whole dock then when he was on the outside. He lowers down, his sniper already pulled out, he scopes over one watchtower, one sitting in there, his legs kicked up while watching something.
He aims at the occupant's head and fires, the silenced sniper fires out, the bullet impacts the man's head, a spew of blood paints the one section of the room.
He does the same with the two other watchtowers, their bodies fall with no fanfare.
No snipers to worry about now. He gives a deep frown however, with his better position over the dock, he gives it a proper look over, and he was not pleased:
Docking bays with large lorries in good condition. Layers of dust and dirt clung to the wheels but other then that it was clearly well-maintained.
Proper buildings made out of concrete, utilitarian in a complete sense of the word, every single building looked the same, unable to defer what was what without it being obvious like the loading bay right next to a large boat, perhaps quadruple the size of the Duchess Gambit. The thought of that ship made him growl.
And dozens of gangsters standing guard, all of them within each other's sight lines. Machine guns hanging by their side, handguns in their holsters and electric prods on their backs. Ready for any poor soul that would try luck, in reality there would be no chance, just a beating or a quicker death, but he was here to reverse that fate, to free them and slaughter Iron Crown.
He could see Iron Crown's symbol on some of the gangster's arms, on their forearm, their bicep, it didn't matter. It was their uniform; their icon of hate and evil. He stops his scope on one the tattoos, the inked image of a skull impossibly winking at him with a goading smile, as if it was trying to bait him into a bloody rampage.
He sneers, suspicion running through his mind. He lowers the sniper, looking over the dock with a more wide view of it. 'Well established, been here for some time. Funded well enough to arm every guard. All look well-fed.' His frown deepens as he continues in thought. 'Not possible to get this much funding and resources without attention, both from other gangs and government.'
'Are the Kingdoms aware and supplying them? Would explain access to guns, building materials and so on… but Iron Crown takes anyone as slaves, doesn't matter if they're Kingdom affiliated or not, deal would sour immediately if Iron Crown took Kingdoms' civilians.'
Alex shakes his head, a frown on pale face. 'Doesn't matter, crush Iron Crown and the roaches working with them will scurry out under boot.' He stands up to his full height.
Fine then, he'll go loud. Slaughter them like the animals they were.
He pulls out a grenade rifle, aiming it a group around a table. The usual thunk echoes out and before you know it, a blast thunders throughout the base. The group around the table turned into chunks and giblets. Screams and shouts echo out. Alex pops open the launcher and puts in a fresh 40mm round.
It clicks as he closes it, he lifts it once more and fires at another group. Another explosion, another spew of body parts.
"Up there!" A voice shouts out and a moment later, a spray of bullets were aimed at Alex. He ducks down, not a single bullet impacts him. He calmly waits behind the concrete barrier, the ping and crack of bullets becoming more and more often as more gangsters start to fire on his position. For an average person, the bullets would challenging to dodge without luck, good agility or bad aim on the shooter's part. For Alex? Well, he already got used to dodging bullets in the Wasteland, ducking and diving around, under or over the hails of gunfire.
And Remnant bullets?
They were a bit lacking in terms of speed and stopping power.
Alex pounces up, the moment there's a lull in the gunfire. Minigun brought to bare. The barrel spins with a whir and less then a second latter, the minigun spews out hellfire.
*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!*
The noise was deafening, drowning out everything else with a sound so violent you could feel it in your bones, like a chainsaw with a megaphone attached to it. It ripped through the small army of gangsters that decided to move up with Alex suppressed at the watchtower. That was a mistake on their part, pushing just left them open to a hail of 5mm ammo via belt-fed tool of tinnitus and death.
A bullet pings Alex's chest, the round doesn't even scratch the surface of his combat armour. A few other bullets go past his head. He turns to the ones responsible for the counterfire, the fear on their faces could be seen clear as day. One raises their hand as if to beg before suddenly being bisected by gunfire. He wasn't alone in that regard. Faces are shredded, limbs are ripped off and holes are made.
Ten more seconds of complete deafness before the vicious sawing came to an end with fast clicks, marking the minigun empty. The minigun bellows out smoke like a dragon. Screams and gags could be heard from below, amidst the piles of bodies and pieces, along the flowing river of blood. The smell of sulphur and gore mixing into some unholy concoction. An affront to the senses.
Only a handful remained and they didn't stick around. All of them running for their lives, screaming and hollering as they went. Confidence and ego shattered and broken like their many comrades lying on the floor.
Apart from one, a gangster sneaking up the stairs of the watchtower, thinking himself about to get the drop on Alex. He reaches the top of the stairs and steps out of the narrow stairwell, shock baton primed only to get smacked by the side of the steaming minigun barrel. He grunts, his jaw stings before a hand grips the gangster's collar. Alex lifts the gangster up and slams him into the concrete wall. The gangster slumps from the impact, the grip of the baton dropped as pain courses through his body.
An elbow presses against the gangster's throat. Alex's minigun already gone, replaced by his standard 10mm pistol. The barrel planted at the gut. "Slaves, where are they?"
"W-What?"
Alex lets out a sigh. He knees the gangster's stomach, the thug slumps once more, only held up by Alex. "Slaves, where do you keep them?"
The man takes a deep gasp of air, struggling to speak. "N-Next to the docking ba-" He lets out a violent cough, the knee to the gut doing more damage then expected. "Fuuuck! I-It hurts!" Alex shakes his head, readying to knee the gangster once more which inspires the gangster into continuing. "Right next to the dock! Building with double steel doors. Please!"
Alex thinks he knows the one. "Show me."
"O-Okay!" Alex lets the grunt go, the man stumbles off, stopping right at the top step. The man hunched over in pain, grunting and wheezing. Alex rolls his eyes, with a kick to the ass, he sends the man tumbling down the stairs. Alex follows after the gangster. The human supremacist tumbles down the metal steps, head smacking on one step. The gangster reaches a corner of the staircase. His shoulder impacts the wall with a dull thud. The man gasps weakly, leaning on the concrete staircase wall. Blood begins to gush from a wound on the head.
'Still blocking the stairs.' Alex thought with annoyance. As casually strolls down the steps right before the gangster.
Alex grabs his shoulder, the man dimly lifting his hands, unable to formulate words as blood begins to spew down the side of his face. His attempt at pleading was ignored, and he was shoved down the stairs once more. The gangster eventually reaches the bottom. Slumping at the ground floor.
Alex reaches the bottom himself, shortly after. He kicks the gangster in the arm. "Get up." The thug doesn't respond, resulting in Alex kicking the arm once more. No response. Alex grimaces. 'Suppose pushing him down the stairs wasn't the best move if I wanted him alive...' Alex shrugs nonchalantly, pistol already aimed. A bullet goes through the back of the head of the gangster, more as an assurance that the gangster was dead then anything else. 'Doesn't matter in the end, I'll find whatever slaves are here and free 'em.'
He walks off casually, the bottom of his boots all bloody. Every once in a while he comes across a few groaning victims, still alive. He finishes them off. Small mercies from the Wastelander. He wades through the river of blood, eventually reaching what he believes to be the holding area for the slaves. A large concrete building with no windows, no nothing. Just a steel double door contrasting against the dull grey of the building.
He had half a mind to just break the door open but he could just pick the lock instead, spare any possible slaves within the building the stress of something bashing on the door like an animal and to not alert any potential guards within he was entering the building. Alex's height made it necessary for him to get low just to have access to most locks. Not surprising, most people didn't make doors for seven foot tall cyborg mutants.
With the lockpick over the pin and the screwdriver over the plug, he begins to twist and adjust accordingly. He's almost got the door open before it slams open, the one side of the door smashes right into his face. With his lowered position, he falls to his ass, a low growl emits from Alex. More annoyed at being hit then the actual pain from the smack.
"Fuck! Someone's on the other side!"
"Drag 'em in! Before the others find out!"
The other side of the double door opens. Alex on his knees, about to get up when a hand grabs at him, trying to tug him in. Alex responds by grabbing the wrist. Pulling the one responsible out and standing up. The man that tried grabbing him now all of sudden was dangling from the air, a disgruntled Wastelander glaring at them. 10mm placed against his heart.
Alex takes in the face of the dangling man. The man's mouth agape as he pales at the sight of the Wastelander, his eyes as wide as saucers and his fuzzy mouse ears folding on itself in terror. Wait. Mouse ears? "You're a faunus." Alex said with a bit of surprise in his voice.
"You better put him down, you Iron Crown fucker!" The threat is hissed out, attempting to put as much possible malice and hate into the words as quietly as possible. Alex turns to the side, spotting another a lizard faunus pointing a pistol at him, bloodied and bruised knuckles wrapped around the handle. "Warn anyone and I'll blast your brains out."
Alex scoffs. He lowers the dangling faunus down, not taking his eyes off the one pointing a pistol at him. "No one left to warn."
"What?" The one holding the gun lowers it slightly.
Alex turns his head to which the two men follow along, spotting Alex's grim work for themselves. "Fuck me…"
There's a bang and on instinct Alex jolts to the side. A bullet smacks against his pauldron. His arm lifted ready to fire back. His eyes dart forward to look for the shooter, only to find the lizard faunus, smoking gun in his hand and a look of total horror on his face. The kind when you realise you severely and utterly fucked up in the most stupidest fashion possible. "O-Oh shit! I-I'm so sorry!" The faunus lowers the revolver to the ground.
The mouse faunus who had jumped at the sound of the gunshot rushes to the lizard faunus with a snarl. He snatches the revolver from the other's hand. "You fucking retard! You could of killed him! Or alerted the whole fucking base if they weren't already dead!"
"I-I didn't mean to! It-, It just jumped, okay!" The other faunus tries to argue his case but his defence is weak.
Alex rolls his eyes in annoyance but that was all. "Word of warning." The two look at him. A look of guilt on the lizard and a look of worry on the mouse's. "Finger always off the trigger when you're not planning to shoot, trigger is more sensitive then people realise."
The mouse lets out a sigh. Relived at Alex not becoming violent towards his ally. "Good advice, but Private fucking Butterfingers here isn't getting access to a gun."
"You alright? I… I didn't hit anything important, right?"
Alex shakes his head. With his index and thumb, he pulls out the bullet embedded into the pauldron. "No damage." He tosses the bullet at the floor before holstering his 10mm.
"Again, I'-I'm real sorry man." A look of pure remorse and regret on the man's face was clear.
Alex accepted it, the man looked genuinely regretful. He even understood. Nerves were on edge for the escapees. "It's fine. You've been kidnapped and enslaved. No doubt you're stressed, resulting in a twitchy finger. How many other slaves are there?"
The lizard faunus' face brightens just a bit, the guilt fading as he lets out a sigh of relief, the mouse faunus rubs their nape. "About 50 others-"
A woman pops out, scales on her cheeks. She wears an angry look on her face as she aims a pistol at Alex. "Don't fucking move!" Another gun pointed at him. This was starting to become a trend.
"Rachel! Gun down, he's on our side." The lizard faunus shouts out, standing in front of the gun.
"Wha-?" The one named Rachel dimly says, confusion on her face. "What, were you the one making all that noise?" Alex nods at that. "Protector's tits, I thought it was some type of Grimm or something, never heard anything so loud in my life."
"Can you do us a favour?" The mouse faunus said, taking charge of the conversation. Alex nods again in response. "You look like you got uhhh,-" Alex's stench of death and blood stained armour front and centre. "-stronger stomach then all of us. You mind going through the bodies and collecting their guns, or hell any keys?"
Alex shrugged at that, wasn't a difficult task and looting the bodies was something he was going to do eventually. "Sure."
"Why do we need to send him to collect the guns, surely it'll be quicker wit-" Rachel words die in her throat as she spots the carnage. It was like looking at the mythical River Styx. Corpses poking out, broken bodies, ripped off limbs and innards pocketed around like stones in a lake. "Fuck me, the hell did you do to them?"
"Killed them."
The woman's face scrunches up. "Obviously, wiseas-"
"-Rachel, not the time, unless you want to go wading through blood and guts?" The lizard faunus barks out, frowning at Rachel.
"N-Nah, I'm good." She sputters out. Her face gains a tinge of green.
The mouse faunus nods at Alex. The three faunus reenter the building, leaving Alex to casually stroll back to the stream of dead. He uses one dead Iron Crown member's jacket as a makeshift bag to hold the dozens of rifles and handguns he collects, along with any ammo. As well as scrolls. He had hundreds of the things and he wasn't even sure why he was collecting so many, but they weighed nothing to him and could fetch decent prices.
He even finds various vehicle keys.
He returns to the building where he spoke with the faunus. He walks into the nondescript building, entering the lobby room, steel bar doors and claustrophobic concrete hallways. The smell of dampness and iron shackles hung about in the air.
"H-Hey, you get all the stuff?" Alex turns to find the mouse faunus staring at him. He plants the jacket down, the rifles slowly slip out, magazines and such tumble out. Alex hands the sets of keys he found as well to the man, the mouse faunus blinking in surprise before nodding his head in gratitude.
"Do you require me to follow along and try guide you home?" Alex asked.
"Uh, no. Thanks for asking but… we should be able to make it back on our own. Wait, is the way out open?" Alex shrugs at that. "Well, whatever. We can handle that, opening a gate should be relatively simple compared to breaking out of our cells."
If they would be fine without him, he would stay here then, explore the surroundings. "You wouldn't know of any building where I can gather intel on Iron Crown?" Alex doubted they did, after all, why would slaves have knowledge on a place that kept them imprisoned. Not like the guards were talking to the slaves. Nevertheless, Alex asked, just in case they do somehow know.
The former slave gives a regretful smile. "Sorry, don't know really anything. Maybe check the boat? Could have a map to the drop off point for…" The man's smile fades. "For us." The man shakes his head. "Listen, if you weren't here, chances are we would have just been executed, no way we would have gotten out with that many guards, which… is a better fate then being an Iron Crown slave, but thanks to you, we're free and going home. If you ever need a place to stay, Velsanna's doors will always be open to you."
Alex blinks at that. "Stay safe." That was all the Lone Wanderer had to say, all he really could say. With that he left the building. A voice following him.
"Don't die, world is worse off when we lose people like you." Alex heard it but didn't acknowledge that. He just moves on, towards the boat.
His feet clanging against the metal steps up to the boat. He was on the boat itself now, a door ahead of him which lead into the boat itself and walkways to the left which lead to the front of the ship and a corner to his right. How does he get to the cockpit?
He opens the door infront of him, a hallway with a door on the other end revealed to him. Stairs to the left heading up and down. Blood dripping from above, onto the lower steps. A leg dangling like a curtain from the gaps in the stairs. Alex's eyes narrowed in suspicion. 10mm primed as he slowly moved up the steps. A dead Iron Crown member was responsible for the dripping blood. Her neck was brutally chopped, only mere strands of flesh and sinew kept the head attached to the body.
Was there already a slave on board?
He reaches the top of the stairs, a bulkhead blocks his way forward. Looking through the window on the door, he can see a man kneeling. Covered in blood with a hatchet in his hand. Alex hums, he grabs the wheel and turns it, the bulkhead door giving a loud clang as he does so, causing the kneeling man to shoot up, hatchet at the ready.
There was a smouldering hate in the man's eyes. His unkempt beard dripping in blood. The man blinks in confusion when Alex walks through the threshold, hunching over to get through the door. "You're no Crownie."
Alex shakes his head. "No, neither are you."
The man gives a sneer, blood coating his mouth and a bit of skin stuck to his incisors. "Guessing you're the one that slaughtered those fucking pricks?" Alex nodded at that. The man gives a dark grin. "Nice work." His grin fades almost instantly. "The slaves, are they free?"
"They are, they'll be leaving soon, most likely taking the trucks to escape."
"...Good, hope they forgot this slice of fucking hell." Rage burned in the bearded man's voice.
"Who exactly are you? One of the slaves?"
"In a way, name's Captain Venta, Iron Crown took me captive after they lost their ships, forced me to ferry along the people they captured." The man shakes his head in disdain.
"So, you know the drop-off point?" Alex asked.
The man nods. "Yeah, it's a dock in Mistral, been to it… too many times at this point."
"Can you take me there?"
The man's eyes lock onto Alex's, searching deep into his soul. "You gonna kill them?"
"Yes."
It was simple and to the point. The man stared into Alex's eyes for a few more seconds before giving a huff, his dark grin back. "Let's get sailing then, got some Iron Crown bastards waiting for us and I want to see those fuckers burn." He points at Alex. "Head down the front, need you to use pulleys on the starboard and bring up the anchor, can't move if it's down. I'll handle fuelling up the boat."
Alex had no idea if he was telling the truth, and he wasn't going to trust another ship captain completely but he had no clue on how to start a boat, let alone captain it. So with great reluctance, he left for the anchor. Heading down the steps past the woman's body still caught in the steps. Pushing the leg as he moves through.
He would snap his head back from time to time, just in case the captain tried to sneak up on him. He got to the front of the boat.
…
'Wait, what is starboard?'
He turns left finding nothing, just a simple metal railing to prevent people from easily falling off, gaps and holes to shove arms and limb in case one fell. He turns right finding a large metal turn wheel. The pulley system he imagined. He gives one final look behind him and moves over to the wheel, the cold metal stained by Alex's bloody gloves. He starts to twist the wheel around, the clinks and chunks of a metal chain could be heard.
It took a bit of time but eventually the anchor was lifted out of the water and reaches the top. Alex gives the pulley system a look over, finding a lever. He pulls it, locking the anchor at the top.
He heard the sound of engines sputtering to life with a bellow. It wasn't the ship itself but rather came from the loading bay. He turns around and walks over to the left side of the boat, overlooking the dock. He spots them, the former slaves getting into the trucks. Children and parents getting into the vehicles.
He couldn't turn away, stuck watching the entire time. At the end, he spotted two familiar figures. The mouse and lizard faunus. They didn't see him on the boat, they just kept looking at the open gate. Freedom right before their eyes.
With smiles they got onto the trucks, the mouse faunus pokes his head out, scanning the area. He spots Alex at the corner of his eye. The man gives a two-fingered salute to Alex before disappearing into the truck.
Hopefully they forgot this place. That whatever scars and pain that was wrought on them by Iron Crown fades with time.
They're going to die.
Alex scowls. He hated that voice.
"Hey, killer! You got the anchor up?"
Alex turns to the voice, spotting the ship captain. His hands and face was scrubbed clean, or at least as clean as the man cared. Still a slight tinge of red to his skin. "Anchor is up."
The man nods. "Good, let's get going then."
"Perhaps I should check the area first, see if there's something else of value here? Other bits of intel?"
The captain shakes his head. "Nope, any intel you could have gotten is either in that pile you slaughtered, or in the pile I chopped. Iron Crown don't keep paperwork or anything like that hanging around."
"What about their scrolls?"
The captain freezes in thought before shrugging his shoulders. "Hah, maybe? Have to know the password and not reset the damn things though."
"I can crack into them without losing data."
"Go for it then, killer. Trip's gonna take time as is." He motions his head back to cockpit. "Come on, need your help starting the ship up."
Alex lets out a sigh and follows along.
One thing was for certain however, he was going to keep a close eye on this ship captain.
Six figures sit around a fine wooden table, two on each side. The one sitting at the head of the long table was a lithe man, slightly below average in terms of height. He was in an expensive suit. A fancy ring with a skull and crown on its head.
"We're losing ground to this new feral lover." A grizzled man said, a completely shaved head with a trimmed beard to go along with it. Combat jeans and boots along with a leather jacket to go along with it. His face seemed to only two emotions, hate and apathy.
"Plus that massive Dust shipment that was going to put us in the black for construction of more ships." A portly man said. More of a refined sense of clothing too, but nothing too extravagant. Dress shirt and jeans with a nice watch.
"Slate, Nick. I know, now do you have any actual fucking ideas instead of telling me things I already know?" The man at the head of the table turns to the two others. The defacto leader at the table: Tim Jade. "What about you two?"
"Need to find this feral lover and deal with him. Quicker the better. Reputation is starting to take a hit." A woman said, her face completely emotionless. In similar clothing to the bald man.
"I said ideas, Mara. Not fucking goals, especially not a goal that I damn well know. David, any actual ideas?"
David, the last one speaks. He had simple and seemingly a cheap hoodie and trousers. "Maybe we should lock down Big Rock make sure the shipments out of there are all safe and sound. To keep the money coming in and flush this fucker out when we're more ready."
The woman turns to that. "We'll look weak if we don't react to this."
The man in the hoodie shrugs. "We don't know shit about this prick, any intel we tried gathering about him has ended up empty, even our inside friend knows jackshit about him, so we can't even react. He's like a boogeyman, people talk but they don't know shit."
"Maybe we should wipe out a couple of White Fang zoos? The two are connected, I have no doubt about that. If we squeeze them, maybe we make this son of a bitch slip up." Slate said.
"Or leave us open for this fucker to squeeze us harder." Tim replied to Slate. "We run the risk of losing more boys to White Fang Hunters if we make them rush the zoos."
"...Could call him back?" Nick muttered, looking at Tim.
Tim glared at Nick for that, not even responding to that question. He looks at Mara. "You know people who can sneak into the zoos, Mara?"
The woman blinks before nodding. "I do, thinking of sabotage?"
"I am, we'll pick the furtherest zoos from the animals, damage their , then I want the person to poison, murder, rape, I don't give a fuck. Just make it enough the whole place gets up in arms about it. Let the Grimm deal with the fucking animals, that way we push the Fangs back and let us use our boys to lock down Big Rock."
Slate rubs his chin. "If we hit certain places, we could cripple the Fangs even more."
"And run the risk of Fang grunts or Hunters discovering them and killing them."
Tim points at Mara. "Figure a way around it then, the more damage we do to the animals, the easier dealing with them and this new attack dog of theirs." Tim turns to Nick. "You'll head over to the Big Rock, speed things up. Hiring people to sabotage White Fang villages is going to get expensive and I want money to remain coming in."
"I'll make sure everything is… optimised." Nick said with a sick grin.
Tim turns to Slate. "I want you to handle this fucking feral lover, call Piercer, use the squads, I don't give a shit, the moment we figure out who this bastard is, I want them dead. Fucker has cost us too much to continue living."
"Wilco."
He turns to Mara and David. "You two, handle the sabotage. Plan it out properly, I want this cut into the animals to be a fucking deep one."
"They won't know what hit 'em."
"Understood."
"Get this done." He waves the others away. "I need to talk to our friend on the inside. See if he has anything on our little feral lover."
Alex hated the sea, or rather, he hated travelling by boat. So much dead time that he tried to fill by cracking the scrolls. A few of them were actually useful, mentioning some mine it however did not mention the location of this mine. Of course that was only the few, the rest just had nothing on them. Group chats with the other gangster with odd pictures, like cats or something with text overlaying it. It was supposed to be some sort of joke.
He didn't get it.
He leaned on the side of the ship, nothing of interest had happened, apart from a large flock of birds called Nevermores had rushed past the ship. The ship captain had proceed to fire into the murder of Grimm birds, startling the little monsters to speed up their process of passing by the ship. Like a black cawing cloud they just zoomed past the boat.
Thinking on the captain, Alex hadn't seen him for a while.
He didn't like that. His mind instantly going to worst possibilities, that the captain preparing some sort of poison or something.
Isn't it funny how you always end up in these situations? What part of your brain are you gonna lose this time, freak?
'Fuck off.' He really wasn't in the mood for this, needed something to distract him.
He pushes off the railing and decides to search for the captain, ease his paranoia and in turn give him something to do.
He goes off, searching for the man, not finding him in the cockpit of the boat, the wheel locked in and unmoving.
He searches in the quarters the captain uses and still didn't find him. Alex found it odd. This wasn't the real captain's quarters, rather just a standard room for any crewmate, bunk bed and all, it was odd on how the captain seemed unwilling to use his supposed quarters.
He checks the cafeteria, nothing. Just silence and dull drippings of sinks.
He delves deep into the ship, entering the cargo bay and finally, he finds the captain. Sitting on a box overlooking rows of cages. The man stares at the cells with a haunted look.
"What are you doing?" Alex asked, his cold voice cutting through the melancholic air. "Why are you just sitting here?" His tone was accusatory.
The man doesn't respond to that, he doesn't even turn to Alex, instead he rambles on about something while in a trance. "Won't ever be able to get the stains out, the scratches… the blood. Even if I do somehow remove it, it'll always be here." The bearded taps his forehead. "They've bastardised my ship, the thing I always felt free on, into this; disgusting fucking mess." He growls out, waving over all of the cargo bay. "It'll never go back to being my pride and joy, till it dies or I die… it'll be a reminder of how fucked everything is, it'll never go back to normal… they tainted that."
Alex blinks at that, the words striking a raw part within him. He looks over to the cells. The metal floors, the poor lighting that barely illuminates the room and the cells making a tight and claustrophobic space which reminded of the Vaults, specifically 101. he couldn't help but imagine himself standing there. The young him, the pure him.
Oily sleeves from working with machines alongside his father and Jonas. No scars on his face, just a bruise on the cheek, consequence of his meekness against Butch and his group. Despite the bruise, he could see the smile on his younger version's face. It was such a small thing, but it was blinding to the Wastelander.
The corners of Alex's lips slightly drop. He turns away from his young self. It was like a mocking spectre, cruelly showing how far he had fallen, how much he's lost and how little he gained.
Alex had no words of comfort or inspiration for the ship captain. He didn't even have it for himself, so he left, left the man to his traumas. In the belly of the ship.
The man's words, stuck in his head as he slowly returned to the front of the boat.
End of Chapter 10
Ozpin's got a plan and Alex is starting to become a legend thanks to the Headmaster. Alex is starting to spiral even more with the contrast of a more healthy world that is Remnant.
Hope you enjoyed leave a review, comment and so on. I shall see you all in the next one.
