The New Recruits
Trubel's motorcycle roared down a dirt road, the pine-scented air of Montana whipping past her helmet. Strapped to her back was a weathered backpack containing Josef Nebojsa's Grimm Heritage Book. The ledger had been a revelation—filled with names, locations, and stories of Grimms who had either chosen to fight or disappear into anonymity.
She flipped the bike's kickstand down in front of a secluded cabin nestled in the woods. The place screamed isolation: overgrown shrubs, faded paint, and the faint hum of solar panels on the roof.
Ethan Granger stood in the doorway, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed as Trubel approached, every muscle in his body taut like a coiled spring.
"I'm not interested in whatever you're selling," Ethan said curtly.
Trubel held up her hands, then slowly unzipped her jacket to reveal the mark of the Grimm etched on her forearm. "I'm not selling. I'm recruiting."
Ethan's gaze flicked to the mark, then back to her face. "Grimms don't recruit. We barely even talk to each other."
"Maybe that's been the problem," Trubel shot back. She stepped closer, undeterred by the rifle. "I know what happened to your family. Black Claw tore my life apart, too. But hiding out here isn't going to stop the next Black Claw—or whatever comes next."
Ethan's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around the rifle. "You don't know what you're asking."
Trubel met his glare head-on. "I know exactly what I'm asking. And I'm not leaving until you hear me out."
After a tense pause, Ethan relented with a gruff, "Fine. Come inside."
That night, they sat by a crackling fire inside Ethan's cabin. The place was sparse but functional, with hand-carved furniture and shelves lined with canned goods and hunting gear. Ethan stared into the flames, his face lined with the weight of grief and regret.
"I've been out of the game for years," Ethan said, his voice low. "I lost my wife and son because of this Grimm curse. You really think I can just pick up where I left off?"
Trubel leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "No, I don't. But this isn't about going back. It's about making sure no one else has to go through what you did. We're stronger together, Ethan. And we need people who've been through the worst of it—people who know what's at stake."
Ethan scoffed. "And you think I can help with that? I can't even help myself."
Trubel shook her head. "You're still standing, aren't you? That means something. You know how to survive. You know how to fight. And right now, that's exactly what we need."
Ethan was silent for a long moment, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. Finally, he let out a weary sigh. "You don't give up, do you?"
"Not when it matters," Trubel said with a small smile.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with one hand. "Alright. I'll hear you out. But I'm not making any promises."
"That's all I need," Trubel replied.
With Ethan reluctantly in tow, Trubel continued her journey. Each name in the Grimm Heritage Book was a new challenge, a new story of a Grimm whose life had been shaped—or shattered—by their legacy.
Some were eager to join the fight, like Elena Varga, a Grimm in New Mexico who had spent years hunting rogue Wesen along the border. Others were harder to convince, like Marcus Adler, a Grimm in Pennsylvania who had buried his past under the guise of a quiet suburban life.
But with each recruit, the hidden network grew stronger. Trubel kept in touch with Nick, updating him on her progress. Every Grimm she found brought them one step closer to a future where Grimms didn't have to stand alone.
By the time she returned to Portland, she wasn't just bringing allies—she was bringing hope.
The smoke hung thick in the air, the acrid smell of burning wood and metal mixing with the scent of blood. Trubel's heart raced as she stepped over the charred remnants of Viktor Stein's forge, eyes scanning the devastation. The once-pristine blacksmith workshop was now a smoldering ruin, and scattered tools lay broken across the ground.
Her fingers tightened around the machete in her hand as she followed the trail of destruction. The bloodstains led her through the overgrown path toward the woods behind the forge. She could hear the grunting of struggling bodies, the crackling of branches underfoot, and the growls of the Wesen closing in.
She didn't hesitate. Her Grimm senses guided her forward, honed by years of experience.
As she reached the edge of the trees, Trubel saw him—Viktor Stein—backed against a tree, his body bruised and bloodied but defiant. He was holding a large steel mace, its head gleaming ominously in the dying light. But the gang of Skalengecks had him cornered. Their reptilian eyes gleamed with malice, and their scaly, armored hides made them formidable foes.
Viktor swung the mace, but his strike was wild, weakened by exhaustion. A Skalengeck leapt forward, swiping at his side with a vicious claw. Viktor staggered, but before he could fall, the first of the Wesen collapsed to the ground—Trubel's machete had done its work, slicing clean through the creature's throat.
The remaining Skalengecks turned toward her, surprised by the swift intervention.
"Didn't think I'd be saving your hide, did you?" Trubel said with a smirk as she lunged forward, her machete flashing through the air. The second Skalengeck fell with a guttural scream, its body twitching before going limp.
Viktor's eyes widened in shock, then steeled with newfound resolve. He swung his mace again, the heavy weapon crashing into one of the Skalengecks' heads with a sickening crunch. The creature crumpled, and Viktor kicked its body aside, pushing himself to his feet.
"Not bad for a blacksmith," Trubel said, glancing at Viktor with a half-smile.
He wiped the blood from his brow, his face a mix of relief and pain. "Never thought I'd have to swing this thing for more than just forging." He took a deep breath, eyes narrowing as he scanned the woods. "There's one more."
The remaining Skalengeck, realizing it was outmatched, turned and bolted into the forest, vanishing like a shadow in the underbrush. Trubel didn't give chase—at least not immediately.
She walked over to Viktor, her eyes still scanning the area for threats. "You good?"
Viktor nodded, though it was clear he was still catching his breath. "I'll be fine. Got worse scars than this. Thanks for the help." He looked at her more closely now, his eyes assessing. "What's your name?"
"Trubel." She gave him a small nod. "I'm part of something bigger. Hadrian's Wall. I'm gathering Grimms to fight back, and I think you're exactly the kind of help we need."
Viktor's brows furrowed. "Hadrian's Wall? I haven't heard that name in years." His gaze flicked back to the ruins of his forge. "I used to fight. But… I chose this life. This is what I'm good at."
Trubel stepped closer, looking down at the steel mace in his hand. "You're still good at it. You're just using the wrong tools. You've got weapons here that could save lives. But it's not just about fighting, Viktor. It's about using what we have to protect the people who can't fight."
Viktor stared at the ground, the weight of his decisions hanging heavy in the air. "I didn't choose this life, Trubel. I didn't choose the Grimm curse. And I sure as hell didn't choose to lose my family to these damn Wesen."
Trubel's voice softened. "I know. I lost people, too. But hiding here, building weapons—it's not enough. We can't keep running from this. The Wesen aren't going away." She paused, letting her words sink in. "You're more than just a blacksmith, Viktor. You're a Grimm, and that means you have a responsibility. You've got skills that we need. Skills that could change the fight."
Viktor remained silent for a long moment, his gaze flicking back to the broken forge. Slowly, he lowered his mace, the fire in his eyes dimming for a moment as he considered her words.
Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but steady. "You're right. I can't hide forever." He met her gaze, determination hardening in his expression. "Alright, Trubel. I'm in."
A week later, Viktor had packed up his most important tools and traveled with Trubel back to Portland. The journey was long, but the quiet moments in the car allowed Viktor to reflect on the decision he'd made.
By the time they arrived, he was ready—not just to join the fight, but to contribute in ways only a blacksmith could. The Grimm Heritage Book had given Trubel insight into his past, but Viktor was more than just a relic of history. He was a craftsman, an innovator, and now, he was part of a network that would help reshape the future.
As they walked into the Hadrian's Wall headquarters, Trubel smiled to herself. This was just the beginning. The more Grimms they found, the more they could stand together against the dark forces that threatened their world.
Viktor clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I've got a few ideas for some new weapons. Some custom-made, just for Wesen. Think you can keep up?"
Trubel's grin was wide. "With you by my side? I'll always keep up."
Trubel's motorcycle hummed steadily beneath her as she rode through the diverse landscapes of the West Coast, each stop bringing her closer to her goal: a new network of Grimms who could help face the growing threats in the world. Each person she recruited added a vital piece to the puzzle, making their collective effort stronger.
Her first stop in San Francisco had led her to Leah Kwan, a Grimm with a no-nonsense attitude who had spent years honing her skills in mixed martial arts. Leah had discovered her heritage at a young age, but rather than hiding in fear or retreating, she embraced her Grimm blood and trained to fight.
Leah's apartment was filled with the remnants of her training—heavy bags, sparring mats, and countless trophies lining the walls. When Trubel arrived, Leah was finishing a set of drills, sweat beading on her forehead as she executed a perfect roundhouse kick.
"You're here about the Grimm stuff, huh?" Leah asked without pausing her routine, already knowing why Trubel had come. She didn't wait for an answer and lowered her guard, her sharp eyes locking with Trubel's. "I'm in. But if you're looking for someone to talk about feelings, you're in the wrong place. I don't need to be convinced."
Trubel smiled. "We don't have time for feelings either. But we do need you. Can you fight?"
Leah grinned back, her eyes hard with determination. "Let's just say I'm good at making things break. Count me in."
Next, Trubel headed to the dense forests of the Pacific Northwest, where Rory MacAllister had been living off the grid. Rory, a Scottish-American Grimm, came from a long line of monster hunters in the Highlands. But rather than hunting for sport, he used his skills to survive and help others, tracking down Wesen who had been causing trouble in the remote areas where most people wouldn't dare go.
Rory's cabin sat at the edge of an expansive forest, and when Trubel knocked on his door, he answered with a weathered face and a wary but curious gaze. The hard lines of a man who had been through his fair share of battles softened when he saw Trubel's Grimm mark.
"You're a long way from home," Rory said in his thick Scottish accent, stepping aside to let her in.
"I'm gathering Grimms," Trubel replied simply, not wasting time with pleasantries. "The fight's getting bigger, and I need someone who can track Wesen in places most people can't even navigate."
Rory considered this for a moment before nodding. "Aye, I've done my share of tracking. But I've got no interest in getting caught up in some big war, lass. I hunt alone."
"I get that," Trubel said. "But the fight's coming to your doorstep soon enough, whether you like it or not. You've got the skills to keep people safe. You can keep hiding, or you can do something about it."
There was silence between them for a long beat, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Rory was weighing his options, but eventually, the corners of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. "You make a convincing argument. I'm in."
Further south, Trubel found Sophia Alvarez, a Grimm scientist from Texas. Sophia had always been more interested in studying the Wesen than fighting them. Her passion for biology and the intricate ways Wesen physiology operated made her an invaluable resource for understanding the enemy. Trubel had discovered Sophia's work in scientific journals and was impressed by her in-depth studies on Wesen anatomy, and the ways certain species could be countered biologically.
When Trubel arrived at Sophia's lab in Austin, the scientist was in the middle of an experiment, measuring the effects of a specific herb on Wesen biology. The lab smelled faintly of chemicals and incense as Sophia carefully adjusted the microscope, unaware of Trubel's presence until she cleared her throat.
Sophia looked up, startled, but then relaxed when she saw the Grimm mark on Trubel's forearm. "Didn't think I'd be meeting another Grimm today," she said with a small smile. "How can I help you?"
"I need your knowledge. Wesen biology is our best weapon, and you're the best at understanding it," Trubel replied. "We're forming a team to fight back, and we need someone who can give us the intel to take down specific Wesen threats."
Sophia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're looking for someone to make sure you don't die in the first five minutes of a fight?"
"Exactly," Trubel said with a grin. "We need to know their weaknesses. And you're the one who can teach us that."
Sophia leaned back in her chair, thinking it over before standing up. "I've been studying them for years. Might as well put that knowledge to good use."
A New Grimm, A New Threat
While Trubel was in Texas, a call came through on her phone. It was from a source she hadn't expected: a local police officer, who had come across a teenager on the run.
"Trubel," the officer said over the phone. "We've got a situation here. A young guy—Malcolm Preis—he's on the run from a gang of Yaguaraté Wesen. They've been after him for days, and he's injured. He's got nowhere to go."
Trubel's heart raced. The Yaguaraté were one of the most dangerous and elusive Wesen, known for their stealth, speed, and their brutal nature. Trubel had no time to waste. She hung up and sped off toward the location.
When she arrived, she found the teenager, Malcolm Preis, huddled under a bridge, covered in dirt and blood, barely able to stand. He was no older than fifteen, his eyes wild with fear.
"Malcolm?" Trubel called out, kneeling beside him.
He looked at her in panic but didn't run. "I—I don't want to die," he whispered. "They're coming for me. The monsters—they'll rip me apart."
Trubel put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not going to let that happen. You're not alone."
Malcolm met her gaze with wide eyes. "I'm… I'm a Grimm," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't know how to fight. I didn't want any of this. I just… I want to live a normal life."
Trubel nodded, understanding all too well. "You don't have to fight alone, Malcolm. We can teach you. But you have to trust me. You have to come with me."
With no other option, Malcolm nodded, and Trubel helped him to his feet, leading him back to her car. The fight was about to get even more intense, but with the new recruits she had gathered—and the help of a young Grimm like Malcolm—their chances of success had never been higher.