The snap and whizz of a round flying by caused two individuals to take cover. A rifleman threw himself behind the nearest object, his body thudding against the black-painted steel.
His side hurt after slamming his body onto the 50-ton tank.
Amin flinched and shook his head after another shot.
"They're here for you, asshole! Don't stand in the street!" The Militia fighter yelled at him.
"Your Checkpoint bottlenecked my route Fucker!" Amin retorted.
"That's not my problem, fight!"
Amin gave a thumbs up and obliged the fighter's demands. Standing and peeking below the bent tank gun, he took aim. It took but a moment to find his attacker, highlighted by a distant flame, wearing a Gorka suit and steel helmet.
Amin pulled the trigger. The muzzle flashed in a disorienting fireball, and he involuntarily flinched. The effect hit him first, as if it were a small explosion in a tiny room. The round barely missed him. Another round from his unwilling partner struck him in the chest. But he managed to stay up.
Amin pulled the trigger again. A massive fireball erupted from his shortened barrel, and a heavier round hit center mass. The bandit dropped his rifle, held his gut, and eventually fell to the side, slumping against a destroyed truck.
Taking advantage of the moment, Amin stood and moved forward. Approaching, he witnessed the man struggling to raise himself to a kneel.
Amin knew the army's doctrine. Raising his rifle, he took aim. The bandit fell backwards and started to drag himself away. Another flinch, and he stopped squeezing the trigger. He was hesitating.
The Bandit, seeing the momentary show of indecision, reached behind him and pulled out a handgun. Amin froze. It was aimed at him, and Amin's instincts screamed for him to respond. But he stared like a deer in headlights.
Shaking from blood loss, the Bandit fired. The low-caliber round was aimed at the soldier's head. The nine-millimeter bullet hit the rim of his helmet and shattered. Copper and lead fragments sprayed from the initial impact point, cutting up part of his nose and chin.
It took getting shot to snap the Half-Cree Boy out of his fear, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet entered his head and exited out the back in a spray of red, and his body dropped. After the body lay motionless, the Militia fighter pushed it aside. Crouching down, they started rifling through the dead man's pockets. Amin realized he should keep moving.
"Uh, Bye." The Rifleman said his goodbye and started down a nearby alley.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever dickhead,"
As Amin walked, he thought about the past few days. He had been reunited with his platoon but hadn't been transferred to a new squad. Instead, the man in charge sent him off alone into the city. A runner. Taking specific orders deemed too risky to send over the radio.
Even with his training considered lackluster, Amin managed. He adjusted the strap attached to the repurposed Ammocan.
He walked through the alley for a good bit. "Alright, around the frozen leopard, take a left," he thought aloud. Finding said leopard, he stared at it for a moment. The first time he saw this thing, he felt it looked off. An eastern bloc turret forced onto a central European hull.
The hull looked alright, but the turret was egg-shaped, and the gun was different from their own. It had a 100mm gun with a larger section at the end of the barrel.
The private stepped up and found his footing on a de-tracked road wheel. Hoisting himself onto the front hull, he stepped forward and jumped down. Turning back, he heard crumbling. Freezing as the building it had crashed through made the unnerving sounds. After a moment, a brick clattered on the engine deck, making him flinch.
The crumbling stilled. Before he could sigh in relief, a light shone from behind, displaying the black cross marking on the side of the turret. Amin turned quickly and took aim. The figure was already aiming at him but stopped and pointed the flashlight downward. The light illuminated a piece of fabric hanging from the soldier's back.
"From western hills! To northern shores!" the soldier exclaimed.
"To Niagara Falls, where the waters roar," Amin responded. The soldier waved him over.
"Shouldn't play around these ruins; shit's held up by hopes and dreams and bent rebar," the now-revealed A Guardsman said. His helmet bore his rank, painted on the damaged steel—a Private, marked by a simple yellow chevron. Despite this, the man had likely seen more battles than his entire platoon combined. Bolted to the front of the helmet was a makeshift faceplate, made of thin steel. The scratches and dents indicated to Amin that it was enough to warrant the limited vision. His thoughts turned to the ratty cape hanging from his back, signaling that he had found the group the message was for.
"Take me to 13th Shock HQ," Amin requested of the Guardsmen.
"Yeah, keep close," he began escorting him to a set of stairs. They led down, deeper into the city. Upon further inspection, these likely led into the nearby parking garage.
The Rifleman stopped as he eyed the specific form of a very tall Shocktrooper. Standing in the corner, he'd say the trooper stood a few inches below seven feet tall.
He wanted to speak to him. Despite the face coverings, something about him felt too familiar.
"Sarge is waiting, let's go!" The guardsmen shouted. Amin realized stopping in the middle of the busy camp wasn't too smart when he was carrying the Platoon-sized battalion's orders.
He entered a makeshift office sectioned off by a wall of empty crates. He inspected the old man behind the makeshift desk. The old man wore the armor of the Shocktroopers. His face was rough, with a gray beard. In the corner, he saw more soldiers in the makeshift office. Another soldier, it was another guardsman, and his helmet had a maple leaf. The difference between him and the other guardsmen around was his winter long coat.
The other sat in the dark corner, the only thing he could make out was a massive rifle leaning on his lap. The Private let his rifle hang from its sling, pulled up the can, and unlatched the lid. He ignored a pile of books, grabbed a piece of paper, and read it in his head for a moment. Then, he began to relay the message aloud.
"Mookiitaw Ashi-nizh-Ningodwaak" From what he remembered, the Army spoke in a broken-up version of the language. The paper held more words, but he was only taught how to pronounce them.
"Twelve hundred hours, quiet attack." He paused for a moment, looked at his watch, and sighed. "Son of a gun, that was ten minutes ago." He reached out, and Amin handed him the piece of paper.
"Civilian checkpoints made me take a detour, sir."
"Doesn't matter." He took a radio and clicked a button, "Sergeant Green and Lieutenant Stoufer, urgent briefing." He finished with that line and looked over the contents of the paper while grabbing another radio, "Bowbender, Tomahawk, get over here ASAP." He looked to Amin. "Take a break at the thirty-third's outpost. It shouldn't be hard to find, considering it's three floors above us."
"Sir"
Alan read the orders on a crumpled piece of paper. He wasn't really interested in what they were doing; it was more about the reinforcements. Thirty-four veteran Shocktroopers from the Nunavut front and twenty from Newfoundland had been transferred to them.
The fighters at Baker Lake Ice Sheet were having a similar problem. Since they pushed the Bandit armies back over a year ago, they had been stuck fighting light infantry. They got pinned in the small communities that replaced the burned Inuit villages.
The troops at Newfoundland were having an easier time. A bulk of Quebec's forces were there; a total of seventy thousand were pushing them off the island of Labrador, last he'd heard.
Placing down the orders, he looked through the other papers in the repurposed ammo can. Seeing a "burn after reading" marked on the front, and he saw why. A bear walking in front of a pine tree presented itself.
He opened the booklet and raised an eyebrow. It was a list of available assets. One he'd thought wasn't even an option anymore.
F-35B callsign "Hillside" will soon be available for air superiority and close air support missions from a nearby helicopter base, alongside A Flight of AH-1Z Vipers. These missions will begin within a week.
And more will become available in the coming year. The areas surrounding California are finally joining the war. They just needed time to mobilize. If his memory serves him correctly, California's reserve force had one hundred thousand men in it alone.
Staring into the box again, he saw more similar booklets. One held a Lone Star. Another had an Anchor surrounded by a circle of stars. He began inspecting another of the five books. It showed a proper flag: green, white, and red. In the middle of the flag was the side profile of a Golden Eagle biting down on a rattlesnake while perched on a cactus.
A hand snapped its fingers in his face, drawing his attention from the book. He saw it was Ben trying to get his attention.
"What?" Before he could look up, he saw him point at a set of words on the top of the book. "Battalion Command and above." He read aloud, "Oh," handing it over. Alan watched the old man read it over a few times.
"Twelve years later," Ben threw the booklet into the can and began explaining what they were doing. "Today's OBJ will land us an Attack on the Airbase in the center of the city." He held out a hand, and Alan responded by giving him his mapcase. "Cratered and damn near useless now it has been severely drained of manpower." Unfolding the city map, he pointed from the south. "The 31st Infantry Battalion and their MP Company will assault from the south." He pointed to the east side. "The 13th Shock and 33rd Watchmen battalion will assault from here."
"They sending three depleted battalions to do this?" Green asked.
"Yep," Ben confirmed. "Major Ignis said we'll get reinforced once we secure a rallying point."
"Do we have any assets?" the only remaining lieutenant asked.
"Right now, we'll have Reaver Two and Bulldog One." A flight of one F-18 and a jump jet. Ben checked his watch again. "Lover One and Lover Two will be on station in twenty minutes from now." A flight of two F-15Es.
"Any more questions?"
All troopers shook their heads. The most experienced trooper in the room nodded and clapped his hands together. "Troopers, inform your attached guardsmen to move out!"
Amin's eyes opened suddenly at a noise. He looked around and took a moment to realize he was in the dorm. His tired eyes fell upon the tall figure of Alan, who stood on his side of the room. The private grabbed his scroll as Alan made it to the center table. He powered it on and stared at the time. Five fifty AM.
Alan opened one of the several bottles on the table, took a long drink, and slammed it onto the table. Seemingly glowing amber eyes met shining blue.
"It's five in the-"
"Yeah!?" Alan interrupted Amin. The older Trooper sighed.
"Sir." Relenting, he watched as Alan pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.
Amin sat up from the bed and attempted to wake up by rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"My head hurts, and we have a busy day today," Alan said after a moment. "Grimm predictions are as follows: heavy potential for Ursa and Beowolf packs. Prep for contact when we land-"
Amin pulled the bolt of his rifle back and let it go. He focused on what was going on.
"-Defensive Teams CRDL Clearing Northwest, RWBY Clearing South East and JNPR Clearing Southwest," Alan spoke with authority. Their class was given the job of making a clear landing zone. "Once it's confirmed the LZ is secure, Command will go to Goodwitch, and Team Aqua will move out. Am I clear?"
"Yes", "You got it", "Yes sir!" The responses of the teams gave Alan their confirmations.
The radio in his helmet crackled in his ear. "Yep, plenty of Grimm down there! We got three, no, four packs of Beowolves and multiple Ursas!" the pilot yelled, and Alan nodded.
"Alright! Grimm are confirmed, Amin, on me." The Trooper shook his head as he checked his scroll. It was Nine. Hitting the plate of his vest, he proceeded to stand.
"Ready,"
As Amin finished his confirmation, the aircraft thudded against the ground, and the doors opened. "Out!" Teams RWBY and JNPR exited the craft from the door behind. They and CRDL exited from the right-side door.
Jumping out, he raised his rifle and spotted the first targets. Beowolves, and a lot of them. Eight on their end alone. Amin inhaled, reached a hand up to his visor, and lowered it. Releasing a breath, his gaze hardened.
"Eyes on, Fire at will!" was all he needed to hear. The wolves started their attack, immediately taking off toward the two landed Bullheads.
He focused and lined up the iron sights with the lead wolf on the right, and fired. Next to him, another shot barked, and two wolves collapsed. The troopers lined up another shot and fired again, and once more, two wolves collapsed.
As the four remaining wolves closed in, Alan activated his bayonet and lowered himself to stab an incoming wolf. Amin prepared by grabbing a tab on his chest and pulling it, which tightened his sling, allowing his rifle to fit snugly on his side. He placed a hand on the sword hilt and unsheathed it.
Holding it forward, he prepared to intercept the wolves less than ten meters away. The troopers stepped forward and met the wolves.
Ducking under one, he pushed past it and shoulder-checked the other wolf. Switching the sword to his other hand, he stabbed it into its chest and pushed it through the side, slicing around the wolf's ribs.
Pulling the sword free, he turned and had to block an oncoming hit from the wolf. He evaded, steel and claw met, and he sent a leg into its stomach and pulled away.
Alan stabbed his Hardlight bayonet into the wolf and used its momentum to throw it over him. Turning, he pushed it off the bayonet. After throwing the wolf, he kept turning while raising his leg and sent the heel of his boot into the last wolf.
The monster rolled and got back up immediately. But Alan was ready. Aiming his rifle at the wolf, he fired a round into its jaw. The bullet glanced off the bone plate. "I missed?" he mentally berated himself for a moment before the wolf lunged at him. He fired another round at it, and the skull exploded.
Alan saw movement in the corner of his eye. The remaining Beowolf leapt at him. His reaction was to grab its arm as it came to claw at him and send his free fist into its face. Alan regretted punching it, but the attack left the Beowolf on the grass once more.
Feeling his wrist ache, Alan pulled his sidearm out and fired three shots into its skull. One of the three shots left it motionless.
Alan turned to check on his teammate and saw the private sidestep the last wolf and, in a swift motion, slash off the wolf's head.
Their eyes met, and they had a silent confirmation. The area was clear.
The large Ursa stood to its full height and roared. Before it could charge, a grenade slammed into its face, causing the bear to fall onto its back. A rifle-assisted javelin hit it in the chest and pinned it to the ground.
Jaune and Pyrrha ran forward and made their move to end the bear. The blonde boy turned his sword downward and stabbed its neck, just then Pyrrha's weapon stabbed into its eye.
His eyes traveled to Team RWBY, who had taken care of another Ursa and a pack of Beowolves. Then to his teammates. Ren and Nora watched their backs, while he and Pyrrha took out an Ursa.
Pulling his sword free, he looked back at the Crimson Forest and sighed. It was clear, at least on his end.
"Good work students, Now, on we go," Professor Goodwitch confirmed they were clear for now.
Jaune inspected the rest of the class again and watched his leader walk deeper into the forest. Vaguely in that direction, Goodwitch was taking them.
"Jaune, let's go!" Nora exclaimed, and Jaune turned away.
Amin filled another jar with purple sap. He handed it over and felt it taken from his grasp. Glancing back, he saw that his teammate seemed a little out of it today.
Amin got about halfway through the jar when he decided to ask something.
"Did you sleep well, bro?"
"Not particularly."
"Any reason?"
"Needed to piss, couldn't fall back asleep, I guess," Alan lied as he finished with the last jar.
"Right,"
Amin remembered something else. "Do you think we'll ever see home again?"
This question gave Alan pause: "What brought this up?"
"I miss my mom, I miss home... I accepted I was going to die in that City, But now we're here after God knows what happened, Every time I wake up I wonder." He paused. "I wonder if we'll get the chance to go home." Amin expressed that all previous seriousness devolved into Amin spilling what he felt. The Older Trooper placed the jar on the grass turned and sat against the tree.
Alan took a moment to kneel next to what he considered his last remaining family.
"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," he kept saying. "I'm here for you."
Alan and Amin simply sat there next to the tree, taking in the moment. Amin eventually reached into his shirt and pulled out his tags. It revealed his name, date of birth, blood type, and serial number. The other tag held a crescent. "This place is fucking scary,"
"No shit," Alan agreed, thankful that Amin was ignorant of what he knew.
"You're doing some secret agent shit, I'm over here talkin' up some baker's daughter," Amin admitted.
"You are?"
"Yeah, we kept in contact after leaving the patch, and she mentioned wanting to pursue a relationship." He paused again, eventually muttering something in a language Alan didn't know.
"Are you green now?"
"No, Physically I'm Green," he affirmed.
"Good enough. We set out west by southwest and get ISR on what's below the cliffs. Then we'll continue to Patrol Point Beowulf and check in with Team One. After that, we'll proceed to Patrol Point Sabyr and repeat with Team Two," Alan repeated the briefing. Amin nodded, thinking now wasn't the time for this.
"Rog," Amin confirming he grasped the simple plan grabbed his Jar of sap, placed it into a bag and sat up from the tree. Alan copied his actions with another bag.
The two troopers started their way further down into the mountainous area.
As they walked, Alan turned back and inspected the red foliage. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he continued walking. But he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. He chalked it up to a student nearby; they were less than a hundred meters from the rest of the class after all. He felt a slight chill in the air, despite the supposed warm weather.
'that is a little concerning,'
Ruby turned and inspected the nearby bushes and trees. Team RWBY and JNPR were standing around a clearing, talking while gathering sap from the trees. When they finished gathering their share, she heard something. Ruby and Weiss sat not too far away, deciding to talk about team management away from the group.
"Hey, Weiss, can you follow me for a moment?" she requested,
"Sure, what is it?"
"I think a Grimm is nearby."
"A Grimm? Alright, let's take care of it," she accepted. The two stood from their spot and walked over. Ruby waved to her sister and made a simple signal to her: "Grimm nearby, support." Yang nodded in confirmation, signaling back, "Wait one."
As they walked, she thought of the signals they had been taught. She saw the usefulness of wordless communication and felt a tinge of excitement as they flawlessly communicated just then.
After walking for a bit, she finally spotted something. Sitting in the middle of a field was a single stag skull. It was fresh, with blood.
"I-is this some kind of prank?" Weiss started. "If it is, this isn't funny."
"Silver eyes, secondary target, approach, follow, speak," a voice whispered. She turned to Weiss, seeing she hadn't heard it at all. Somewhat unnerved, she calmed herself and took a step forward. Whatever it was, mentally pulled her forward.
"Ruby?" Weiss asked. The heiress's concern grew as her team leader walked toward the freshly skinned skull. The air grew colder, and the forest stilled.
Of all the things she'd seen, a snowflake drifted into her vision. "What?" she questioned. A thousand questions flew through her thoughts. Her eyes turned to the young team leader, and she froze.
A Grimm she vaguely recognized descended from the tree cover. It took one of its tentacles and crept its way to Ruby's forehead.
"R-ru-" she tried to yell, but she felt so cold. She tried her best to raise her hand to the weapon at her belt, but failed. A purple flash, and she saw it withdraw the tentacle. Ruby fell to the forest floor, unconscious. And it turned to her.
"Blue eyes, not a target, no use to the master, kill, feed, grow," a voice entered her psyche. She could feel a feral hunger emanating from it as it approached. She noticed a blood-covered beak revealing itself as it got close enough.
It reared a barbed tendril, aiming for her neck. Weiss attempted to raise her aura, but failed as the cold froze every fibre of her being.
"Monster!" The voice of Yang snapped over the forest, and a shot hit its glass dome, which was its head.
"Danger, Retreat, hide, find-" It didn't finish as a ribbon flew past, and Blake's weapon cut off some of its arms.
It let out a screech as it bled purple fluid onto the grass. As it continued to mentally berate them, it made a motion with its remaining arms and, in a burst of movement, flew away at breakneck speeds.
"Go chase it down," Jaune ordered, and Blake disappeared further into the forest. Then JNPR each ran past, using their own mode of transportation.
Seeing as her ability to move returned, Weiss picked up her weapon by its hilt and fearfully inspected the surrounding forest.
"Ruby!" Yang exclaimed, clearly worried for her sister as she jumped closer to the little leader, fell to her knees, and scooped up her sister. "Ruby, wake up!"
She turned to Weiss, "What happened!?"
"I don't know!" she yelled back.
"She's not breathing!" Yang tearfully yelled.
The two silently sat where they were, both lost in what to do.
Yang fears the worst possible outcome.
Ruby inhaled and opened her eyes, coughed, and held a hand to her head.
"Owie"
"Oh my Gods your okay!" She held her close and inspected any possible wounds.
"What happened?" she asked, but it was ignored.
"You're okay," Ruby, seeing Yang in distress, raised herself up and wrapped Yang in a hug. She let out a sigh of relief, and Ruby held a questioning look to Weiss.
And she had no idea what she had witnessed. That thing spoke. It wasn't physical speech, but she heard it in her head.
Dove eyed the tiny scorpion inside the small container. It was all black and had a white design on its face. The colors were meant to impersonate the look of a death stalker, making animals that hunted its sand-colored cousins ignore it.
They were an invasive species from Vacuo, only recently coming north. Despite that, they somehow haven't affected much.
He sighed, lowered it, and stared down from the tree. He needed to be quiet. Popping open the container, he looked for a specific shape.
Waiting for the perfect opportunity, he followed one of two targets and had to assume their path and stay put.
That's when he saw them, idly talking about something while they scanned the farther woods.
If Dove was going to be honest, he didn't hate these two. And he didn't want to do this at all. If anything, these were the most respectable Faunus he'd ever met. Well accomplished too, at least from what he'd heard.
The fear of Cardin's threats reached the forefront of his mind. He shook his head and focused. Holding out the container, he waited to drop it onto them. The venom of this one would at most paralyze a man of the corporal's stature for about a few days, plenty of time to get him to a hospital, fulfilling whatever petty vendetta Cardin had with the soldier.
A painful sting at his neck took him out of his focused state. He quickly swatted what he assumed to be some kind of wasp, sending it deeper into the woods, where it presumably flew off. Dove refocused.
Just when they got beneath him, he turned the container upside down and watched as nothing fell out. A bit of drowsiness hit him, and he looked at the container.
It was empty.
His throat felt dry, and his muscles started to feel like they were on fire. He started to tilt to the side.
"Oh boy," he silently exclaimed. Then he hit the ground, all the air in his lungs disappeared, and he couldn't breathe. Panic began to set in as he tried to reach for his throat, but the pain in his muscles was too great.
Alan turned at the sudden thud behind him. Raising his rifle, he took aim and saw nothing in his immediate sight. Amin tapped him on the shoulder and pointed down.
He saw a figure lying in the grass.
"Bronzewing?" The boy didn't respond. Instead, he let out a squeal.
Alan took a step forward and crouched. He took off a glove and checked his pulse. It was quick, and the boy was struggling to breathe. Turning to Amin, he raised an eyebrow.
"What the fuck do you want me to do? You're the one with CLS training." Amin responded, and Alan sighed. He then proceeded to inspect any wounds.
The Swordsman of CRDL started to breathe but still didn't move. Alan concluded he'd fallen unconscious. "We need to get him to Goodwitch," Alan moved to pick him up but Amin held his hand forward.
"Let me carry him; I need the workout anyway,"
"Fair enough," Alan turned and watched the forest. Amin walked up to Dove, raised his knees, then grabbed both arms. The Trooper pulled and got the Swordsman onto his back, holding him by his arm and leg. "They should still be back over the woods. Move out."
"Sir," he started back from where they came. A thought crossed Amin's mind. "What the fuck do you think he was doing out here?"
"I don't know," a few gunshots sounded from their front, "but all I know is he's injured and we need to go." Concluding the students could handle a few more Grimm.
"On it!"
As they walked, Alan walked alongside the cliff, staring down at the rocks and river even further below. Less than a minute later, something burst from the woods in front. Alan locked his eyes on a seer rapidly approaching.
The three stopped, eyed each other for a moment, and suddenly, JNPR and Blake burst from the same woods.
They too stopped, staring at the unconscious student on Amin's back.
Alan pointed at the odd-looking Seer, "Kill this fucking thing!" he shouted, raising his rifle. Alan fired. It dodged at an insane speed, a simple stutter to the side.
"We've tried shooting it!" Jaune shouted. The purple glow in its bulb seemed to look back and forth.
Alan let go of his rifle and pulled out his trench knife. This got its attention,
'Zaasaakwe,'
Alan narrowed his eyes at the words. "Fuck off," he said, and ran forward. Instead of dodging the hit, it lunged its remaining arms at him. Alan sliced one arm apart and dodged another until he reached the glass dome.
Alan punched it, and it fell back. But not before one barb hit his helmet. His mind went dark, and he flopped to the ground.
Everyone had a look of surprise on their faces as the corporal fell to the ground. In one moment, the entire team charged in.
Amin noted the corporal's chest start moving and sighed in relief, watching the huntsmen try to chase the monster. He didn't know what it was or what it did. Taking a few steps, he gently placed Dove on the ground next to Alan, pulled out his scroll, stepped over, and crouched next to the unconscious Alan. He called Goodwitch.
"Ma'am, we have two confirmed casualties. Both are unconscious."
"What? I'm on my way. Do you know what did this?" She asked, a hint of worry etched in her words.
"Uh, Some weird-looking floating Grimm," his eyes travelled to Dove and he eyed a swelling mark on his neck. "And some sort of bug bite,"
There was a whoosh above as the weird-looking Grimm flew higher, and eventually away, becoming a dot in the distance.
Blake landed next to him. "Damn it, that thing is fast."
"No shit," Blake turned to see Amin on his knees, inspecting the two downed individuals.
"Are they..." she paused.
Using his chin to point at Alan, he said, "He is asleep." Pointing to Dove, he added, "And he was stung by something, I think."
"Huh?" Alan made a sudden noise, turned over, and looked around. "God, that fucking sucked!"
"What did it do?" Blake asked, kneeling next to him.
"Shit," he simply said. His mind was thinking of how to convey the jumbled mess it had encountered.
Alan stared up at the enormous mushroom cloud in the distance. It was massive, reaching beyond what he assumed to be the cloud layer. Looking down, he saw smaller detonations, and the air looked like it was made of fire.
His eyes blinked at the black liquid that rained from the sky. Raising his hand, he saw it pass through.
Upon this, he realized that this was some kind of dream or vision. Noticing something else, he found himself surrounded by water, and he was standing on the black-painted hull of a submarine.
Further away, he saw sand. It was a desert. Looking to the other side, he saw more desert. Alan learned that the submarine was traveling through some kind of canal going through the desert.
Time seemed to tick by in the blink of an eye. He was in some sort of harbour, where hundreds of ships were docking in any available space, be they warships, from the mightiest carriers to the smallest patrol boats, or civilian freighters and fishing boats.
He looked up and saw a massive red bridge. Then he blinked, and it all changed.
It was somewhere in the freezing woods. A shot echoed. It was a familiar thump. He watched as soldiers jogged past him. They took spots and prepared for something.
Explosions above, he looked up and watched a group of aircraft contrails chasing each other.
Everything changed again. A dark forest, and a familiar ash-covered sky. He decided that inspecting his surroundings was a better idea than gawking at the sky.
"Oh fuck!" he jolted in surprise at the pale figure watching him nearby. He stared at it, and it... its head looked in his direction.
Its eyes were sewn shut. These were his first observations. Animal hides covered its body. Its head was adorned with a stag skull headdress, and long yellow teeth, jagged and cracked in spots, sprouted from its mouth. Long arms at its sides were armed with long sharp claws.
"This is what I was, a feral spirit, following anything that looked like the next meal, anything to satiate the hunger, the pain. It thought that following and consuming the last pureblood alive would satiate its hunger for longer." A larger shadowy figure appeared next to it. It resembled a monster even more than the grotesque shape it stood by. "I was given a mind that could control itself, and the power to use the abilities I was born with,"
"Okay..." He paused, staring up at the creature. "Why show me this?" he waved to nothing in particular.
"I was just looking at your blood's journey through the ages," he said. The surroundings changed again. The monster disappeared, and this time it was a riverside in a forest. He saw a young man with brown skin and warpaint on his body. Holding up a bow and aiming it down at another painted man holding a tomahawk.
"You have the blood of a warrior, and warriors live short and harrowing lives," Alan had to think about what it said.
"What are you getting at?" he asked, standing next to him and staring off into the dark void.
"I need you to live, live a long life," it eventually said. Asking him to simply live.
"Why?"
"By you and your brother-in-arms being here, you are keeping my powers from becoming feral." The monster walked from behind a tree, and the area disappeared. "Another power freed me from the shackles of the Grimm."
Another change, this time a burning village. In the middle of the destroyed village, sat a single Grimm. It looked wrong, and it was doing something even more disturbing. Consuming the carcass of a guard. With each chunk it swallowed, something changed in its body. A new spike on its back and another branch of the purple lightning pattern on its mask appeared.
The wolf stopped eating and looked directly at him, then snarled.
The void returned, and something happened: a shudder. The black void began to crack, with purple, jagged breaks in the darkness.
"I'll be in touch," it said, reaching a clawed hand toward him. Alan tried to step away, but couldn't. "I think that is how it is said," it mentioned, tapping his forehead. A purple spark made him flinch. It glowed across his body in the form of his Aura.
"What was that?" he asked, but watched as the spirit stood to its full height and vanished.
Alan scratched his chin, as he thought of something. "Grimm from our homeland are going to become more common."
Amin seemed to understand his need to lie. "Yeah, I see that." He looked off into the distance. "That one is rare, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I need to talk to the headmaster," Alan said, standing shakily. The three stared at the stir of movement from the unconscious swordsman. Slowly, he was lifted off the ground.
"I can take you there. You can leave your partner here to take care of the rest of your duties," Goodwitch appeared from the trees.
"Thank you, ma'am," Alan nodded and began walking alongside the professor.
JNPR reemerged from the Woodline, ran up to Amin, and began questioning him. He stopped paying attention after that.
Problem after problem, Something always needed to happen. 'I guess I wished for some shit to keep me busy.' Internally grumbling.
AN
I Shit you not I forgot to press the upload button, This is why this chapter came out in three weeks instead of my usual finishing time of two.
Anyways, Incompetency at using technology aside. I am going to try and go back and edit some older chapters as there are some mistakes, Grammar, Left over text, things like that.