Shade's New Blood – Chapter 21

Maron wandered through Mantle's streets besides Steele. The snow piles gradually grew as time went on and, now, much of the ground was a thin layer of the powdery ice. Another breeze touched upon Maron, reminding her of how ill-equipped her simple button-up shirt and skirt were for the harsh Atlesian climate. She shivered, her Aura adjusted, and she pressed on. Every step of the way, Maron felt the subtle crunch under her boots while her thoughts wandered elsewhere.

She cursed her own misfortune. Long had it plagued her life and now it reared its presence once again. When she thought she could help her team, she instead had to keep what she knew hidden from them. It may have eaten away at her a little, but it was Viri's words that sunk the deepest. No matter which way she faced, Maron was sure to lose one way or another.

Her thoughts dwelled on her team. Envy, mostly. If only it were them, not her, that had accompanied Steele, then they could have picked up the scattered pieces to this case of theirs with ease. But it had to be her, hadn't it? It could have been anyone else—anyone! Yet it was her. Maron knew she was out of her depth. She only hoped that one of the others had better luck than her. What else could she to do? Sabotage her team's already bleak future? Or rob someone else of theirs?

Maron's shoulder was grabbed by a gentle hand which startled her. She turned to see Steele eye her with a concerned if slightly puzzled look. "Hey, something up?" He asked in a tender voice, clearly sensing some trouble.

The girl blankly stared back into that lignite-colored gaze of Steele's while precious seconds passed without a reply. She blinked a few times to snap out of her daze, "N-No," Maron declined. She shrugged off his hand and turned from him. After she took a quick moment to steady her breath, she spoke again, "I just—" she furrowed her brows as her usual self returned, "Ugh, forget it. I'd just like to get this over with quick."

Steele raised a brow but gave a slow nodded, "Alright, but do let me know. Last thing we need is you freezing up on me in the middle of a fight, alright?"

"I said, I'm fine," replied Maron, now annoyed.

Steele didn't press her and took the lead again. They eventually arrived at a fairly mundane intersection cut off by parked Atlas-insignia-marked vehicles. Barely a dozen officers surrounded a fairly old-looking inn sat at the corner, protecting it from any outsiders while also securing a perimeter from a growing number of curious bystanders. Gone were the full sets of armor typical of Atlas military personnel. In their place was a simple, but thick, protective vest with a white, Atlesian uniform underneath. Naturally, they wore the kingdom's insignia on their shoulders and chests with a small, underlining label that told onlookers their role was mere 'Security'. Unfortunately for them, appearances could only do so much when it was well known who they ultimately responded to.

Much like its neighbors, the inn was old, dirty, and covered in years' worth of grime, filth, and post-construction additions. Rusted pipes and ducts snaked up the side of the inn, connected to only a single heating unit barely kept functional with its dim, orange glow from within telling the world that it was indeed still alive.

Maron snuck a glance toward Steele, then back to the scene in front of her. From the sparse number of officers, one woman took notice of them and approached. Her white uniform was clean and fresh along with a small cap. She carried herself with excellent posture and a discipline afforded to just about everyone under Atlas's command. Despite coming off as professional, her eyes told a different story. It was one of exhaustion starting to catch up to her. The rest of the thinly stretched officers didn't look any better either. She drew up her hand in a sharp, authoritative motion to stop the two from coming any closer, "Hold it, this place is off-limits until further notice. I suggest going around instead." She turned her attention to a tablet-sized Scroll in off-hand and began to work at it.

"Sergeant Fluss?" Steele asked. That had caught her attention. "Captain Cye sent us," he said.

The woman looked to have brightened up a little, "Ah, you must be the Huntsmen I requested," she said. However, she frowned again after having a quick peek behind the two, "is there… no one else joining you?"

"We're it," Maron said matter-of-factly.

Fluss pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "And here I am risking my neck in this part of the city. I had hoped for more than the two of you, but I guess we're all stretched to our limit. Just—Just come with me," she said before working on her Scroll again. "Our person of interest is one, 'Cole Cassavot'," the woman informed, "He's waiting for you inside."

"Any trouble?" Steele questioned.

"No, he's only wasted our valuable time thus far. He says he won't move until he has 'proper escorts' to rely on. We could have left long ago but he insisted on a request for Huntsmen to fill that role."

"Odd. Did he explain 'why'?"

The woman tapped her Scroll against her shoulder and clicked her tongue in frustration, "If only. Regardless, the Captain instructed us to take special care to cater to Mr. Cassavot's whims. Old acquaintances, I guess, but orders are orders and we're not exactly in any shape to question him anyways." Sergeant Fluss led Maron and Steele past the guarded entrance into the inn. They were greeted by an empty ground floor of homely wood. Lonely tables stood about while their missing chairs were stacked and pushed against the walls and against the back wall. Ahead of the entrance was a bar that looked to be already looted of its bottles. Just then, behind them, was the sharp sound of a siren followed by a booming voice from a speaker giving out a stern warning. Sergeant Fluss slumped her shoulders and sighed, "Looks like another curious crowd. Sounds like they're getting restless too." She straightened herself once more and showed the two up a flight of stairs, "Let's be quick, I've got a bad feeling about all of this and we may have overstayed our welcome."

The three eventually stood outside one of the many old doors of the inn's upper floors. It reminded Maron of Viri's dorms, except the halls were narrower and more lifeless in more ways than one.

"Mr. Cassavot," Sergeant Fluss knocked on the door, "The Huntsmen you requested are here to—"

"I said leave, sergeant!" shouted a man from inside the room.

The woman let out a low growl to herself, "I don't know why the captain insists…" She silenced herself and shook her head. Fluss then looked over to Steele, "Get him down, quick. I don't care how." She turned on her heel, cursing as she marched back down the stairs.

Steele looked to Maron, "Ready?"

"Just open the door," came her reply.

Steele gave the door an obligatory knock before barging in with Maron behind him. The air was heavy with alcohol and a light scent of smoke which forced Maron to slightly recoil in disgust. There, stood at the window, was a man in a crisp, light-grey suit who watched Mantle's people go about their lives while the island city of Atlas hung high over them all. In spite of the ill-kept room he called his refuge, the man still had the grace enough to make himself presentable. His short, black hair showed signs of age and his stoic stance portrayed that of a typical, well-refined businessman. However, his otherwise steady hands betrayed his calm. From the subtle squeeze around his wrist to the barely noticeable but constant tremble of his fingers, it told of a man stricken with worry.

"Mr. Cassavot," Steele called out to him, "We're here to escort you. Ready to go?"

"Moles," the man replied.

"What?"

"They don't know that their whole system is already compromised. I suppose that's one blessing you Huntsmen have," the man noted. He turned back and looked at the pair with sullen, smokey-black eyes that looked to have missed a few days of rest. "…Independence," he finished. His face looked aged, more so through stress than however many years had gone by him. A light stubble showed on his face as did a small cut wound across his cheek that looked to be just finished healing.

"Is that why you requested us?" Steele asked.

"Mistral. That would have been the preferable, but I do not have such a luxury anymore. I've already been found and my once plethora of options are no more. 'They' have already taken all that I own and destroyed all that I've built," Cole said. He grabbed a nearby bottle, pouring what was left from it into a small glass that he then stared into, "All that's left is my life. Soon, they'll take that too." He downed his drink in one go. When he was done, he fixed his tie, straightened his back, and turned to the Huntsmen with him, "All the more reason to find safety in Atlas, let us move. I do hope you exceed my expectations, Huntsman," He said to Steele, before glancing to Maron, "And that your pupil here can keep up."

Maron frowned at the remark but Steele spoke up before her, "This way, sir." Steele checked the halls before leading the three out of the room. "Cars are waiting for us downstairs," he said, "The sooner we get out of here, the sooner—"

The lights flickered off and on, slowly growing dimmer each time.

"What… What is that?" Maron asked, instinctively hovering her hand over her staff. Her ruby eyes scanned the cramped surroundings as if she would find some new opening or threat, but the hall was just as empty as when they arrived. However, she and the others heard the creaks in the wooden floorboards and a howling wind outside that rattled against the windows.

Maron looked to Cole, his eyes focused on the ceiling above him as if seeing something through it staring back at him. They white of his eyes grew as terror rooted him in place, yet he still upheld his image as best he could. With a shaky breath, he answered her, "The past, come for blood."

"Who?" Steele demanded. Cole was silent, his gaze passed Steele and Maron who in turn followed it to the end of the hall.

There she stood; a slim form silhouetted against the moon-lit window. In the dark, a pair of mint eyes stared back at them and a long snow-leopard-like tail emerged from behind her, slowly swaying. She was dressed in black, her face half-hidden by a cloth. She drew a pair of daggers from behind her. The blades glistened under the moonlight as their owner slowly approached. Maron and Steele equipped their weapons, and the Faunus quickened her speed.

Together, Maron and Steele went for simultaneous strikes at the small woman's chest and legs, but her agile frame glided between them. The Faunus then sliced across Steele's abdomen and followed through with an upper cut across Maron's chest. With one dagger already raised, she drove the blade's point down on Maron who just barely deflected it in time with a quick strike of her staff to the Faunus's wrist.

From behind, Steele wrapped his arm around the woman's neck to subdue her only to receive several elbows to his side. Maron rushed to assist him, but the Faunus raised a foot and thrust it into Maron's chest with all her might, smashing her through a door while slamming her back, along with Steele, into the wall behind her. She slipped under and freed herself from the man's grasp. He tried to swipe at her with his glaive, but the awkward angle and narrow hall limited him. Nonetheless he narrowly missed his mark as the blade sliced the air in front of the Faunus's face who then proceeded to kick it into the ceiling. Steele ditched his weapon and tackled the woman. Unfortunately, the two tumbled down the stairs, wrestling and trading blows all the way down each flight.

With a groan, Maron had picked herself up from the ground covered in bits and pieces of whatever remained of the door. She was quick to regain her senses after seeing an empty floor and heard the growing noise downstairs. Maron yanked free Steele's glaive from the ceiling and charged downstairs as well. The further she got, the more fighting she heard. Shattering glass, gunshots, splintering wood, and a few pained cries reached her ears.

Once Maron reached the ground floor, she found it already torn up from battle. The entrance had been sealed in a sturdy layer of ice, a few tables had been thrown around or broken, and dots of red peppered the wooden floor. Cole had just been cut off from the entrance with the Faunus right behind him. However, a single Atlas officer had been present, putting themselves between the both of them. However, they paid for it with a gash across their chest and were now slumped against a knocked over table.

"Steele!" Maron called as he rushed forward in spite of being unarmed.

She tossed his weapon to him and, without missing a step, Steele twisted around precariously on one foot to catch it before he landed back down and continued his sprint. His quick steps closed the distance. The assassin's blade was already poised to strike, but Steele swept the woman's leg with his glaive, driving her off balance.

The Faunus missed Cole, only managing to graze his other cheek which left a thin trail of red, not too dissimilar to his first. She stretched out a hand and caught herself, spinning her body around before landing down on all fours while facing Cole and Steele. The Huntsman, now with Cole securely behind him, knelt to the ground and checked the fallen officer but was careful not to divert too much of his attention away from the threat before them. Meanwhile, Maron drew her bow, her eyes trained on any place the Faunus could step.

The woman's tail swept close to the floor, her cold gaze shifting from one person to the next. She studied them. Steele smashed down the ice-blocked door to allow Cole through while she watched. She sheathed her daggers, but with a deft swipe of her hand she drew and threw a dust-tipped kunai. It hit the floor just short of Maron, but upon impact, a sudden gust of wind knocked the girl from her feet and sent bottles and tables crashing. The Faunus then turned to Steele and rushed in to get close.

No matter how hard he tried, Steele could not grab the distance he needed which rendered his glaive all but useless. The silvery-haired woman kept herself a literal breath away and almost brushed against him were it not for her excellent footwork. She weaved through Steele's counters with elegance and a peaceful look in her eyes. Her moves and twists were little more than a routine dance with the Huntsman being her unwilling partner. For mere seconds, Steele was on the backfoot as the Faunus pressed herself close until, finally, he made a slip. Then the woman struck, sliding her foot at just the angle to tip off the man's balance before determination lit up in her eyes. Quick, decisive knuckle strikes to his side, neck, and joints before one final, heavy punch to his chest sent him down. The woman then stole his weapon and swiped at an incoming Maron who barely blocked it in time. However, the power behind it still crashed Maron into nearby table, breaking it in two. When the woman finished, she dropped the glaive and backed out of the inn.

Maron and Steele hurriedly picked themselves up and retrieved their gear. The two kicked open the set of doors to the inn and rushed outside. There, a handful of officers already lay defeated, witnesses and bystanders panicked and fled, and it set forth a scene of general chaos. Only a pair of other officers were left to keep order while the rest sought to protect Cole in futility. Sergeant Fluss, meanwhile, violently shook her Scroll, yelling at it as her remaining subordinates fell one after the other while Cole had been backed against one of the cars. The woman turned to see another of her subordinates who rushed to the driver's side of one of their cars only, only to receive a thrown kunai to the back. "Come on, get through, get through! Someone, answer me dammit!" Fluss exclaimed.

No reply came.

Soon, Fluss found that she stood alone. She drew her sidearm just before the approaching Faunus could strike Cole. She fired a few rounds, but none hit their mark. The Faunus, undeterred, prioritized Fluss, dodging another shot before disarming the officer with a painful twist of her wrist. The pain, alongside a gentle push from the Faunus, brought the uniformed woman to her knees.

From behind were a set of footsteps. Maron approached and readied her staff for strike. The assassin stared the incoming girl in the eyes as her dagger slashed across Fluss's chest, easily cutting through her armor. She then tossed the wounded Fluss toward Maron who stepped just out of the way.

With her staff in hand, Maron drove it forward like a spear to jab at the masked woman. She missed. Her shirt collar was grabbed and, before she knew it, a knee rammed into her stomach. Maron stumbled off balance but shook her head and tried again. She swiped at the woman who dodged the attack by an inch. A kick struck the back of Maron's knee, forcing her down. She couldn't get up in time. The Faunus followed up with a powerful back kick that crushed Maron against the side of the parked car beside them, leaving a small dent.

Maron slumped to the ground and groaned. Her half-opened eyes glanced over to see the woman scan her surroundings again. She received one last narrow-eyed look before the Faunus turned away to chase after Cole, who had used Maron as an easy distraction. Maron reached out as if it could have stopped her but she got away. A thought crossed her mind: Steele. She sat up only to see the Huntsman knelt over Fluss, focused on her without a trace of attention to the assassin whom he let escape.

"Hey, Steele!" She furrowed her brows while a seed of anger grew in her. "What are you doing?" Maron exclaimed. Was he not the one who warned her about being unfocused? He should be helping her! "We don't have time to sit around!" Maron told him, "If we don't leave them, dozens more—"

Steele shot her a disapproving glare, "Listen to yourself, Maron. You're better than that. It's not always about the assignment," he said sternly. Her turned his eyes back to Fluss, whose blood soaked his hands, "Even one life, is worth saving." There was a brief pause between them. What was left of the Atlas security detail joined in tending their fallen as Steele shook his head in frustration. He looked up to Maron again, "But you're right about that assassin. We can't afford to let her succeed. So, you go. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can!"

"What—What about—"

"Go!" shouted Steele

Maron backed off. Her eyes lingered on Steele for a moment longer as he turned away from her. She looked around to see just how much carnage unfolded. Broken glass, officers downed, third-party opportunists around the scene. A question popped in her mind: 'Why?'. Why wouldn't he listen to reason? She was surprised, confused as to why he would stay, especially knowing that so many more were at risk. Maron didn't allow herself any more time to ponder that thought and turned on her heel. With a determined look, she sprinted away, following the very path the assassin took.