Chapter One Hundred
The Previous Morning.
Roman Torchwick, Paragon of Wit, Criminal Extraordinaire, and all-round Snappy Dresser was having… not the best day.
It wasn't really a bad day, per se, someone as amazing as him never really had bad days, but, as of lately, his life had taken an… annoyingly constrained tone.
Not that he had been captured by the 'authorities', like those fools could ever keep up with him, but, actually, that would have likely been better, as then he could escape with ease, style, and panache!
Escaping the Queen of the Grimm, meanwhile, was… more difficult.
Though, really, he only had himself to blame.
It was amusing how much the clowns in charge went out of their way to try and hide the fact that, newsflash, the bad guys could get Aura too, which, if anything, made his job so much easier, because, while only a fool let someone shoot them in the face, the looks on the faces of the defiant rubes who realized that no, they weren't getting out of this, was always so delicious.
That, or when Neo killed some uppity Huntsmen or Huntress who thought they'd 'finally taken him down'.
Puh-leeze. Roman would say 'get on my level', but, let's all be honest, that wasn't going to happen.
No, it wasn't because he'd made a mistake that saddled him here, it was because of the fact that he'd played it safe that the Master Thief had been downgraded from Babysitting, to Pet Duty.
In a way, he had gotten what he wanted, namely out of Vale, though not anywhere close to the manner in which he wanted, and it was everything he could do to avoid getting fleas.
I mean, come on, he got that Big White had her Grimm Digits in a lot of pies, but the White Fang?
Really?
There was that sycophant of hers, sure, but Scorpio was kind of mono-focused, if effective, while the White Fang were a bunch of uppity mongrels that didn't know their place.
Now, Roman wasn't racist, of course, he didn't hate them because they were furry, or scaley, or whatever else they popped out of their mothers as.
No, Roman hated them because they were stupid.
And, worse than that?
They were boring.
'Oh nooo, we're soooo oppprreessseeed! Who cares if we got our own bloody country, we're gonna dress up like freaking Grimm and whine at peopleto give us more of what we want!'
Blackmail, well, blackmail at least took a bit of skill, as you had to do so with subtlety, since revealing the con would negate the con, but, no, the White Fang were bandits, except at least bandits had the respect to be honest about what they wanted, like that black-haired chick from Mistral, the one with the selectable sword-blades. Terrifying woman, but she did pay on time. Again, with the Grimm Mask, but at least she made it work, and didn't have all her little boys and girls wear mass produced knockoffs.
Was it too much to ask for some originality?
Though, little Ms. 'Oooh I'm sooooo hooot's newest plan was at least ambitious.
Pity it was also retarded.
The crazy bint wanted to destroy Vale, which, yes, they'd stolen a lot of Dust, but it was nowhere near the amount they'd need to pull something like that off.
Which is why they weren't going to do it, the Grimm were.
But, again. Destroy. Vale.
Now, if he'd taken out Ozzie's boy, he might've had the swing needed to get Queenie to get him the fuck out of here, but the kid never came back to Vale after his little tête-à-tête with the popo, which, on one hand, good of him to stay out of Roman's hair, since he seemed like one of those 'hero' types, if a bit blood-thirstier than usual for a brat his age, but it also meant the assassins that Roman had met with hadn't been able to do squat, and he'd still had to pay the greedy bums, lest they ply their trade on him.
The nerve of some people!
But, well, when it became clear that little miss shake-dat-ash wasn't doing a Pump & Dump after having jacked up the price of Dust, at least explosive Dust, since someone was flooding the market with the Ice-y version, he'd had his fun-sized sunday go out and offload the bit he'd held in reserve, getting them a comfortable nest-egg, though Marcus' crotch-spawn and the gutter rat had managed to kill his contact before he'd scampered off to Vacuo to set up a nice little landing pad for the Master Thief and his partner, which was… aggravating.
So now Roman was camping.
In a Glenn!
Mountain Glenn, to be specific, the crumbling cityscape a monument to the dumbassery of the biggest, and least efficient thieves of them all!
Politicians!
Seriously, who builds the skyscrapers before they build the defenses?
It'd be like robbing a place without scoping out all the exits!
Amateurs!
And, while murder wasn't his cup of tea, at least Torchwick usually only killed the people he meant to, and, if he missed, he didn't oopsie away tens of thousands of potential marks!
But that was why this entire plan was stupid, because, yeah, humanity bad, down with government, the world is a terrible place and deserves to be ground to dust and shadows, yadie yadie ya, but, between living in Vale, and living in Mountain Glenn?
He'd take Vale!
He'd take Vale every time!
Because no one did delivery to asecret terrorist camp, and gods-damn did he want a pizza!
And not those Atlas Ration Pizzas, either!
Honestly, for all they claimed to not be animals, the mongrels he was surrounded by sure as hell ate like them!
But Roman was stuck here, and while he could trust Neo to do a supply run, he was well aware of the fact that these mangy mutts didn't like him, and the fact that she could be hanging around at any time was one of the reasons they hadn't tried anything yet.
And, when it was showtime… oh, things were going to get so much worse.
The plan was a simple one, befitting of Ms. Hot-to-Trot, but he had to hand it to Cinder, she at least did her research, as he couldn't see either of her kids having planned this out, especially as how uncomfortable the mint-headed one was with it, though she tried to hide it.
See, Mountain Glenn was supposed to be the sister city to Vale, and, again, not just putting the cart before the horse but delivering the damn thing before the equine was even born, they'd built a fully functioning rail line between the two, from the industrial center of one to the other, to make it easier to deploy materials, except, that didn't work when Grimm started attacking.
They'd then been right bastards and sealed the Vale end, which was something he'd do, but that was kind of his point, leaving the Glenners to be trapped in the connecting tunnel as the Grimm had ripped them apart, limb from limb, then left their bodies to rot.
And they'd had to clear out a lot of decayed bones and torn up, fouled clothing to clear a path for the train to work.
And by they, he meant the White Fang.
After all, Roman was management!
But, with the way cleared, and with a train abandoned right at the station, they'd set everything up, got it working again, loading up their pre-packaged delivery method, setting the charges along the track, and getting everything ready, because they didn't have enough Dust to blow up Vale, but they did have enough Dust to blow up the barrier between here and Vale, and open up a path for the Grimm to come pouring in.
They even had a little bugger in a box from Big White that essentially called 'dibs' on them to the other Grimm around here, letting them work in peace, with orders to feed it a special little pill when it was time, where it'd call in everything in the area, dragging in a Grimm Tide down the channel of the tunnel to flood the city, which, again… why?
But it was not his place to ask, apparently, even though if they'd actually told him what they were doing he could've pointed out how they were being idiots, no, it was his to do, from a safe distance, and make sure to have Neo kill everyone on his way out so no one could tie him to… to this.
Which was plan A, specifically it was setting the train in motion, activating the Grimm Lure, and slipping away as everyone else was drowned in the Tide as they'd be riding the train there.
Plan B, if he had to use the train himself, like if they had to do this in a hurry, was to start the train and jump off halfway down the track, taking a maintenance tunnel that Neo had found, and slipping out of this cluster that way.
And plan C, for Crap, was riding the damn thing all the way down. Watts had given him an Atlesian Hard Light Dust forcefield generator that should protect everyone in the cabin on the point of impact, but, well, if Roman wanted to take someone out, the ol' 'faulty protective gear' trick was the kind of thing he'd pull in elementary school.
Ah, Jimmy had never seen it coming.
Stupid little shit.
"Uh, boss?" a fairly dumb voice called, though with this crowd that didn't narrow things down that much, as the Master Thief relaxed in his office, waiting for the minions he'd been saddled with to fuck something else up.
At least Junior's boys could follow basic directions.
"Yes, Perry?" Roman called back, not moving.
"Uh, can you come out here?" the aardvark Faunus called.
And, really, who named an aardvark Perry. Like, if he was a pony Faunus, that'd make sense, or maybe even a platypus! But an aardvark? Just call him Aaron! The joke was right there!
But no one ever accused the White Fang of sense.
With a sigh, Torchwick yelled back, glancing to Neo, who was laid out on his couch, reading something on her Scroll, the jammer they were using meaning she had to slip away to get updates for them both, "And is there a reason you're bothering me during my private time?"
"… birds."
With a groan, the Master Thief got up, shaking his head, his partner in, well, everything, shrugging and giving him a 'what can you do' smirk as she rolled to the side and smoothly stood, grabbing her Dust-woven parasol, Hush, its stinger retracted, following him out.
"What did Erik and Delilah do now?" Roman questioned, sauntering out onto the underground boulevard, the seagull and dove Faunus duo just… so clumsy. "I know they're birdbrains but…"
He trailed off as he exited the ruined storefront he'd claimed as his office, looking up.
Thing was, Mountain Glenn was built as a two-tiered city, because they apparently looked at the shitshow that was Mantle and Atlas and decided they needed themselves some of that on-the-nose class divide, which meant that there was an above-ground city, and there was an undercity, where the railyard was, hidden beneath the streets of the first.
It also meant they had a great place to hide out, as any pesky bullheads that passed anywhere close wouldn't see his busy little bees prepping everything, and, while parts of the topside had crumbled away, or been helped to crumble, to allow a bullhead to carefully maneuver itself down here to drop off cargo, they didn't really have to worry about any kind of Flying Grimm even getting close, and scaring the men, like the Beowulfs that roamed the streets above did.
Until now.
Because there were Nevermores.
A lot of Nevermores.
Like, thousands of Nevermores, crowded on every available ledge, all of them small, little more than black, white, and red pigeons, but, just like he was worth a couple dozen of the bumbling fools he was overseeing, Roman knew there was a certain quality to quantity that the concentrated awesomeness that was himself, or Neo, did not possess.
So, looking up into all of those masks, well, for once he could sympathize with Perry, and the others, as work had completely stopped, not that they had much left to do, and, while he wasn't a Huntsman, Roman was pretty sure that Nevermores weren't supposed to stare, practically motionless, only moving just enough to track the people below, a third of them having twitched, as one, to stare at the snappily dressed man as he'd exited his office
I thought the little doohikey was supposed to keep the Grimm away, the flame-haired criminal thought, as, while her pet inventor liked to play games, Salem hated that shit, and her word wasn't just rock solid, it was Dust-forged steel, and about as forgiving.
"Well," Roman said, voice a little strained, but, well, could you blame him? "Having a bit of an audience doesn't mean you all should stop working. What's wrong, can't perform while you're being watched? I've heard they make pills for that, ya'kn-ohshit!" he swore, as, at once, every single gods-damned Nevermore took off in unison, lifting up into the air before diving down, the Master Thief bringing up Melodic Cudgel, flipping his weaponized cane into Dust Cannon mode, Neo fading from sight to get ready to do, well, he wasn't sure what, but the Grimm weren't coming for them.
No, they were diving into the groun-
No, they were diving into each other.
It was a sight that made his brain hurt, as the thousands of Nevermores came down into three groups, melding and merging, in ways that made no sense, three masses of twisting feathers that grew, slowly, too slowly, white overtaking black until the writhing forms condensed into three eight foot tall women, clad in similar, but different, dresses made up of Grimm bone in the shape of overlapping feathers, covered, head to toe, clearly women, but with beaked masks, the eyes of which were the flat rid of Grimm eyes.
And, looking at them, there was no doubt in Roman's mind that they were Grimm.
But also that they were… something more.
Greetings, Little Flame,
the lead one spoke, in a way that seemed to slide across the Master Thief's mind, mask not moving, but heard, perfectly clear. In some ways, it was like how Big White talked, with a… presence beyond what you could see that told you to watch out, because you were dealing with someone you didn't want to piss off, but this was… this was a step beyond that.
But Roman Torchwick wasn't one to stumble when a curveball went his way!
"Hello, ladies!" he smiled, removing his bowler hat with a flourish as he bowed grandly. "And welcome to our humble little operation. Can I offer you any refreshments? Tea? Beer? Blood of the arguably innocent?"
While their masks didn't so much as move, the amusement in the voice of the lead Grimm… lady, left no mistake as to what she felt.
No thank you, dearie.
We've already fed.
And, reaching into their dresses, the two behind her pulled out... heads.
Human heads.
Two men, one with green hair, the other having orange hair with black stripes, which, combined with his now vacant slit-eyed pupils suggested Faunus, and two women, grey and black haired respectively, all four frozen in expressions of terror and agony, as they were tossed down to his feet.
And we took care of a few rats for you!
"Ooooookay, well, thank you!" Roman smiled, even if it was a little forced. He recognized the black-haired head, having had to run from that Huntress a couple years ago, when the quiet bint had managed to sneak up on his operation at the time, which… well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about her anymore, apparently. "It's always just so interesting to meet the types that Big White employs!"
Because if these three worked for Cinder directly, the ashy little witch would've made sure to rub it in his face, which meant the little Firestarter had managed to mess things up enough that her boss had sent… help.
Yay?
And, somehow, these three weren't the creepiest people he'd met.
Barely.
But… Still, it takes a village to butcher a child, or however the phrase went.
Big… White?
the one to the right questioned.
Oooooh, that ain't good.
"Uh, yeah, about yay high," the Master Thief said, waving at eye level, "white skin, black veins, white hair, red and black eyes, magic powers, immortal, goes by Salem?"
The righthand 'lady' cocked her head, swiftly, a bit like, well, a bird's, before the one on the left, without warning, threw her head back, the movement swift but somehow…wrong, as she let out a cawing laugh with birdy overtones, getting hold of herself after a few seconds to state,
He means our Little Sister!
That sent the right-hand one into fits of cawing laughter as well, Roman smiling awkwardly, as the lead Grimm woman shook her head slightly.
Oh, No.
We do not work for the Youngling.
We smelled one of her little projects, and came to see what she'd made this time.
You are her Slave, yes?
"Absolutely!" Roman agreed readily. "And these are my Slaves, so, really, we're all working for your… 'Little Sister', so we're all on the same side! Just one big terrifyingly Grimm family!"
"Hey, screw you, I'm not a Slave!" one of the Fangers objected, and, glancing over, it was Jeffery, a… Roman couldn't remember what he was, but he was leaning towards donkey, because the man was an ass.
From the way all three of their guests looked at the other man at once, that was not the right thing to say, and the conman felt the need to try and salvage things, going, "Now, now, you heard the scary Grimm ladies. We're all Slaves, right?"
"…but they didn't say anything," the Faunus frowned.
Blinking, Roman looked at their Visitors, who'd not exactly been quiet, and back to the Fangers. "The rest of you heard them, right? It's not just me?"
Because that was a marker that they were dealing with some kind of Semblance, like Cinder's amateur thief, though something on this scale was beyond the girl. However, from the murmured "Yeah's" and "Uh, I can't hear anything either's", it became clear that only the recruits they had with Aura were able to hear their guests, which…
Well he wasn't sure, but, like everything else about these three, it was waving more red flags like a Mistral New Year parade.
"Ah, well, either way, we're all slaves to our own causes, which means we're all Slaves, working together, to do what is asked of us by our leader, right, Jeffery?" Roman questioned, adding, under his breath, "Just nod and say yes, you stupid animal, then shut up, and let the adults talk."
"Screw you, you can't talk to me that way!" the idiot argued instead. "I'm no one's Sla-gurk!"
And, between one moment and the next, the left-hand woman had moved, fast enough that Torchwick had trouble following it, one long, taloned arm lashing out and catching the Faunus by the throat, and, turning the Fanger away from the others, her dress opened, like unnatural wings, and she pulled Jeffery into herself, his gurgling scream mercifully short as he was messily ripped apart, from the sound of it, the process taking only a handful of seconds, until her dress was closed once more.
The Grimm Woman turned around, the only sign of Jeffery a little blood splatter on her bony feathers and the talons of her right hand, though, as she seemed to float back to the others, the bottom half of her dress not shifting the way legs should, the V-shaped blood splatter she left behind very apparent.
The lead one gave the returner a dry look, the murderess replying with a half shrug.
I was feeling... peckish.
That got a chuckle from the right-hand Grimm, as the lead one questioned Roman,
But the rest of you belong to her, yes?
"Yep!" the most intelligent person here agreed. "We all do. Right, everyone?"
The chorus of frightened agreement clearly amused the three in front of them, their leader asking,
Now, what is it that you are doing here?
With no real reason not to, and at least one splattered indicator that he should, the Master Thief quickly gave the very tall, very scary women the lowdown on their operation, the back two tittering in appreciation, and, upon mentioning Big White's creation, asked to see it.
Motioning for the others to do so, Neo nowhere in sight, Perry handed him the box, which the conman opened up, revealing the tied-down Grimm inside.
Oh, Little Sister.
You never learn, do you,
The woman crooned, and then, in a single strike, crushed the box, killing the creature in a spurt of black and red gore.
"Uh, we, uh, kind of needed that," Roman felt the need to point out, dropping the now ruined container to the side.
Oh, don't worry, Little Flame.
Trust in The Fates.
The Grimm woman reached out a clawed hand for his head, and the Master Thief stiffened, worried, but not for himself.
"Neo, don-!" he started to order, but his partner was already moving, having positioned herself in the middle of their three guests, lashing out with lighting speed, her parasol's spike out and stabbing into the back of the tall woman's armored nec-
Clink!
The tip of the weapon snapped, easily, the pint-sized assassin's eyes widening as she dropped down, the leader's clawed hand swinging around with lighting speed, only catching a few brown and pink hairs, the larger woman following with several more claws, as her compatriots drifted backwards, opening up the range, Neo seeming to move a bit too slow, a taloned hand darting in to rip into her face, only to hit an illusion screen as the assassin rolled forward, and slammed her folded up weapon into the visitor's side, the metal-interwoven lace of Hush able to hit like a club, but barely moved his partner's opponent.
The Grimm Woman seeming to drift away from the hit, the air in front of Neo tinted slightly, as she put up another screen, darting to the side as their white giant lunged, the assassin pulling a stiletto from her boot, leaping up and over a low slash, above the woman's head, and moving to thrust it into the visitor's bright red eye.
Only to miss.
By millimeters.
The taller combatant tilted her head, just a little, and then stood, slamming her mask into Neo's stomach and sending the girl higher into the air, spinning, trying to right herself, as the Grimm Woman followed, seeming to walk on air, Neo opening her parasol to try and change her path of decent, snapping Hush shut at the last moment to drop beneath another slashing swipe, only for their visitor to leap downwards, take hold of Neo's head, and slam them both into the ground hard enough to break the cement in a spiderweb pattern a dozen feet across, and for, in a shower of pastel pink sparks, his partner's Aura to break.
And, lifting up the assassin, who was bleeding from the impact, indicating just how hard she'd been hit, Neo took her now broken blade, and jammed it into the seam of their visitor's mask.
Which did jack-all.
Ooooh, I like this one,
the right-hand Grimm Lady noted.
Can we keep her?
"I'm sorry," Torchwick stated, taking a step forward, hesitating as all three 'women's' heads snapped over to stare at him, as one, a feeling, which he really did not like, as if he were a worm being considered by a particularly large bird, filling him.
But… Neo.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, fingering the switch on Melodic Cudgel, trying to figure out how the fuck he was going to pull this off, and coming up with nothing, but that just meant he'd need to figure it out on the fly, which, incidentally, is where he did some of his best, if loudest, work. "But I really need her help. I can offer you literally anyone else, hell, take two, or even three, but… not her."
The feeling redoubled, then doubled again, everything in him screaming to open fire, flee, or throw himself down and beg for mercy, but the first was clearly suicide, the second was not going to happen without Neo, and the last, well, it was tempting, but it probably wouldn't work either, so he stood there, staring down the three of them, waiting for something to happ-
Hmm,
the lead Grimm mused,
At least Little Sister has good taste.
Thinking that, hot damn, they might actually survive this, Roman smiled, "I try. Also, Neo, what have I said about playing with guests?"
His partner sent him a terrified look, so he just smiled harder, trying to subtly gesture to the Giant Superpowered Monsters, the assassin turning a chagrined look towards the white-clad vaguely human-shaped creature holding her and shrugging helplessly.
It's alright, Dearie,
the Grimm Lady stated, placing Neo down, and patting her on her two-toned head. After a moment of consideration, she added,
And your soul infusion was not too bad, but you need to concentrate it at the tip to get it in.
Reaching up to the stiletto jammed in her neck, the Grimm removed it, closed one hand over the broken blade, pulling back to reveal it had been repaired with a feather-patterned stretch of bone, offering it to the assassin.
Hesitantly, Neopolitan took it, and, looking to Roman, who nodded, wanting to go along with whatever these 'people' wanted, she closed her two-toned eyes, a shimmer of pink glimmering on the blade.
Ah, no.
Let it flow through the core of the blade, like a wand.
Then harden it at the tip, like a spear.
You don't need the rest, little one, and you do not have enough as you are, so let it be.
Following the Visitor's advice, the glow shifted, a little, and while Roman couldn't tell the difference, the eight-tall-woman made out of freaking Nevermores clearly could, as she patted the assassin on the head again, cooing,
Very good!
Now, go stand by your mate and work on that.
"Uh, we're not like…" Torchwick started to say, and, was the Monster's look disapproving?
The other one just ate Jeffery, for crying out loud!
"We're not like that officially," the Master Thief corrected, the deadly shortstack turning red in embarrassment, scampering over to him to put her partner between herself and the monsters, which, just, thanks Neo. "So, uh, since you turned our lure to paste, you said you had a way to handle it?"
I did.
The eight-foot-tall woman nodded, gesturing, as the other two drifted over to the waiting train, and, with unhurried movements, tore open the inch-thick steel plating, casually lifting out Dust barrels that required two men to carry, ripping off the tops, and dumping the glimmering sand inside.
Do you know how long that took to collect? Roman thought, but held his tongue, as the Grimm woman hunched over their respective barrels and…
Vomited.
Not only that, their masks seemed to break open, given he saw the side of one's 'face' flapping free, as dark liquid poured out, seen falling past their hunched over forms, one glob hitting the ground, before, twisting, it formed into a Nevermore, that took off before flying into the left-hand woman's bone-dress, which rippled slightly, despite, having seen Neo hit it, being hard as stone.
"Oh, well, that's… horrifying," the conman commented, feeling nauseous himself. "So, instead of bringing a Grimm Tide to them, we'll…"
Deliver it yourself,
the monster stated, amused.
"…That'd do it," Roman had to agree, watching as they did that to a dozen more barrels, manually re-attaching the lids each time, gripping the rims hard enough to mash them back on through strength alone, finally shoving the metal side of the train back in.
"Good as new," the Conman sarcastically offered. "So, uh, you're, The Fates?"
That got a curious look from the murder-lady standing beside him.
You do not know of us?
Well, that's a loaded question if I ever heard one, Roman thought, offering, "Only in passing, synonymous with destiny. 'You can't fight Fate', and things like that. Not as the… beautiful, and terribly imposing presences that I see befor-"
The ground shook.
GRRRRRRRRRRR.
"I, what was that?" the Master Thief asked, not having heard of this place having earthquakes.
However, instead of talking to him, the Grimm Woman looked down, and to the right, almost sneering,
We're leaving, you obese oaf! Go back to sleep!
Sharing a glance with his partner, Roman asked, "Uh, what?" Neo nodding in agreement.
Patting him on the head, with enough strength in that gesture to snap a regular person's neck, their visitor just stated,
Don't worry, just someone being territorial.
You lot aren't strong enough for the big lug to be bothered over.
Looking over to the other two, she commanded,
Girls?
Time to go.
"Well, uh, it's been, well, certainly something meeting you three," the Master Thief waved. "Definite highlight of my day."
All three looked at him, cawed in laughter, and exploded into thousands of Nevermores, that flew out every crack in the ceiling, hundreds of feet above them, their leader's voice calling out as they did so,
Meeting a Nemisi always is!
Music:
Until now - Ajolote Lunar / The Raven (Gothic, Victorian And Dark Fantasy Music)
Patting him on the head - Music for Uncovering Dark Mysteries - Fables
AN: Welcome to the reason this world is Tier Seven, instead of being Downgraded to Six like Canon ended up being.
