Chapter 92 - Atlas - The Wrong Place at the Right Moment

Year 74VE, January

Cover Art by Mi Chumi

Watts had found, to his displeasure, that the Red Claw was proving difficult to guide. Adam Taurus had not, as he had expected, responded immediately to his offer. On the reverse he had also apparently not communicated Derecho's offer to Sienna Khan. Meaning he either did not receive the message, which was unfortunate, or he had ignored it.

Never the mind.

In Watts' estimation, the mere existence of such a splinter group as the Red Claw was playing into his hands. The fact that Menagerie was causing political chaos, combined with the fact that the Faunus in Mistral were daring to push back against the status quo? Well, it raised all sorts of hackles among certain quarters of Mistralian and Atlesian society.

Hackle-raising that he was happy to encourage, with the full knowledge that chaos breeds opportunity. And he would use that opportunity, to prove to Salem that he could, in spite of the meddling of a certain feckless girl, advance their cause in a manner that could not be ignored.

And he had not limited his encouragements to the humans. Their excesses had caused reactions among the native Faunus of those two Kingdoms.

Reactions he was, likewise, happy to promote. One Atlesian group in particular, who had nicknamed themselves The Scarred, had proven remarkably biddable, not particularly intelligent, and harboured a remarkably transparent hatred for the Schnee family. Something to do with ill-treatment in the SDC mining camps. They'd already carried out several acts of petty violence within Atlas. Sabotage of mining equipment. Fake bomb threats. That sort of thing.

Pitiful, really.

With his assistance, and guidance, they would ramp up their activities somewhat.

Rhodes was heading for his normal watering hole late Thursday evening. He'd been thinking about getting his own apartment. An actual apartment here in Atlas. With Garek and Selene relocated to Menagerie, he didn't see himself doing as much work outside Atlas, other than periodic visits to see Cinder, who was be settling in at Breakwater Academy, though her last call had told him not everything was sunshine and roses.

Oh, he'd still have to hit up Mistral fairly frequently, shuttling packages between Polendina and the band of nutjobs in Argus. And of course, since he was now part of that group, that made him just another nutjob. Eh, it was better than being lonely, or dead. Hell, in point of fact, he was enjoying life more than ever, even if his closest friends had moved to Menagerie. They were just a scroll call away, and he was likely to live to see retirement, at this rate. And he still had a few acquaintances here in Atlas. Dr. Polendina was alright.

As he walked, he noted there was some big event going on at the posh Crystal Palace Banquet Hall on the street running parallel to the one the Broken Grimm faced. Normally this area was pretty quiet this late on a weekday. The frontage was packed with reporters, nobs, and various security contractors, spilling out into the street. He recognized a few of the security guys and gave them a nod. Not all of them were assholes. Except the SDC guys. Those guys had a stick up their asses the size of Sanus.

Normally he'd have turned down the near side street before the hall to cross over before heading to the Broken Grimm, but with mass of vehicles and people there, he didn't feel like it. Instead he stayed on the far side of the main street until he was well past the Crystal Palace, and then cut across the street and headed down the narrow alley without a care in the world.

This was Atlas, and he was a Huntsman after all.

That was how Huntsman Rhodes ended up in the wrong place at the right time.

Hitting a tee and turning right to a second alley that ran roughly directly away from the Crystal Palace, he noticed two things immediately.

The first was that there was a small group of men ahead of him, who were trying very hard not to look predatory, and failing miserably. His first clue was the way they were spread out across the alley, and focused on someone ahead of them. One of them even had an earpiece in his ear, for the gods' sake.

The second thing he noticed was their target, a cloaked and hooded figure, clearly a woman, oblivious and so drunk she could barely walk straight.

There was no way she'd even noticed she was about to be mugged, assaulted, or worse.

Ten years ago, Rhodes would have dragged his maces out from beneath his own cloak and charged the men from the back in full Huntsman style. Wade in, ask questions later.

But hanging out with former Specialist Reggie Cass had tainted him. He'd learned the value of keeping a human opponent off-balance in, maybe, avoiding actual combat.

He quickened his pace, speedwalking quietly, and heard a muttered curse when he slipped right through the middle of the pack sped past them…

And took the woman immediately by the arm. "Dammit woman, I told you I already had the tickets! Come on we're going to be late!"

The woman bleared up at him with ice-blue eyes, frowning and failing to focus. "Buh-" she slurred.

Ignoring her half-protest, he powered on, urging her forward. There was another opening to the left, and he immediately into that alley which would take them to the closest primary street.

He heard earpiece guy mutter quietly behind him "She's heading south, picked up male."

"No buts, woman!" He said loudly, seemingly oblivious to the men behind him. "Do you want to miss the start of the show?!" He doubled his pace, nearly dragging her as she began to stammer an attempted protest, eyes widening in confusion and growing concern.

He almost made it to the mouth of the alley when two more men stepped into the opening from the main street. One smiled broadly at him. "Hey pal, can you spare a few lien?" The man was hooded, and a scar ran across his right cheek, wrinkling and contorting when he grinned.

Rhodes made as if he would pause for a moment, and said "Sure thing, man." And moving his free hand down as if to reach for a pocket, he instead pushed Aura forward, lowered his shoulder and charged into him. As he knocking the mook aside, he lifted the woman completely off her feet and bolted around the corner.

"Shit!" He heard someone yell behind him, and shifted Aura toward his back.

The woman was starting to squirm and panic in his grip now. "Ma'am," he hissed, "those men were about to hurt you, I'm trying to save your ass. I'm a Huntsman!" He was relieved to feel her still, so he hoped he'd gotten the point across.

He was charging ahead, down the sidewalk. The streets here were as empty as they normally were, which was a pity, because now he wanted a crowd. He thought about yelling for help, but wasn't sure whether that would attract more of the sort of people he didn't want, considering the fact that he'd now run into two separate group. That screamed organized effort. A criminal gang, or worse.

And he was right, because there were more people headed his way. And from a glance, not ones he wanted.

He had what, eight behind him now. He could see four more coming toward him down the sidewalk on his side of the street, a block and a half away. They had hands reaching into coats. He caught the sight of four more in a side alley across the street, they were starting to move.

He was about to be cornered. He made it another block, but the noose was tightening quickly.

"Hand over the woman," he heard Earpiece Guy growl, "and no one has to get hurt." He started at the name, but was distracted from giving it more thought due to the fact that Earpiece had pulled out some sort of short-barreled shotgun.

And the rest were pulling out a variety of firearms.

Rhodes felt himself relax. These men might have Aura, but probably aren't Huntsman trained. Oh, they could kill me, eventually, but…

But that wasn't the problem, he realized, as his blood went cold. The woman who is now clinging to me probably doesn't have aura. She wouldn't survive a gunfight.

There was a door only ten feet away. And the men coming from the other directions were closing fast. He cursed, grabbed the lady and pulled her tight into him with both arms, ignoring the urge to draw a weapon of his own, and charged toward the doorway, pushing Aura to his back and sides. Here goes Operation Human Shield.

"Fuck it, kill 'em both!" Earpiece guy yelled behind him.

As Rhodes charged toward and then into the recessed doorway, he felt the pain as his Aura tanked multiple strikes. Shotgun slugs nearly knocked him off his feet. Wood splintered and stone chips hit him and the woman as missed shots struck the building, even as he shoulder-checked the door and ran into the darker room inside.

A darker room where a man stood behind the bar, staring at him in shock.

"Lotus! They want the woman, hide her!" Rhodes hissed, and literally threw her at the bar. Her body bounced across its surface once, hit Lotus in the chest. He managed to grab her and dropped immediately behind the bar, cushioning her fall with his torso. Rhodes didn't slow down, and moved quickly past shocked patrons and pool tables to the far end of the room, still hunched over as if he carried someone.

He heard the door bang open again behind him and the sound of multiple booted feet charging into the bar.

"Nobody move and nobody gets hurt!" A voice yelled. Rhodes looked back over his shoulder to see almost twenty armed men enter the bar, fanning out, but half a dozen walking slowly toward him. "Like we said, we just want the woman. Nobody has to get hurt, pal."

"Oh, and that's why you tried to fill me full of holes out there?" Rhodes snarked back.

"Warning… shots..." The man sounded puzzled, trying to understand past his own adrenaline how they'd managed to miss, but chalking it up to bad luck. And also trying to figure out what it was about the people in the bar that seemed kinda off.

"Sure pal. I don't think I'll be handing anyone over today." Rhodes said, shrugging off his heavy cloak and reaching for his maces as he turned around.

He heard someone snigger, and it wasn't the mooks that had just charged in.

There were two audible clicks. The first of the front door swinging closed, and the second as one of the patrons quietly locked the door of the Broken Grimm.

Rhodes' face broke into a savage grin as the sound of multiple chairs being pushed back echoed from the modest tavern. He saw Lotus stand up from behind the bar with some sort of combination shotgun and axe, and a half dozen Huntsmen and Huntresses, some of whom he recognized, stood up with looks ranging between amused and pissed off. The one that had just eased her way to the door and locked it had already grabbed a mechashift javelin from the stand by the door, and was preparing to toss several other weapons to her teammates.

"If you break my fucking tables, you're paying for them." Lotus grumbled, as he jumped up on top of the bar in one smooth motion.

Willow Schnee had not been enjoying herself.

Truth be told, she'd not enjoyed herself for over a decade. But it had at least once been tolerable in the early years. It had begun slowly as her husband had grown steadily colder toward her, and doubts about his feelings had gradually crept in, eating at her.

The final significant catalyst had been Winter. Winter, who had shocked both parents by first insisting that she wished to attend Atlas Academy. Jacques had been livid, and had tried everything from threats to enticements, including putting pressure on Captain Ironwood to intervene and inform young Winter that he would not accept her, but Winter had held fast.

Willow had intervened there, though Winter had been unaware, convincing her husband to allow at least two years of Academy training before Winter reached her majority. She hadn't realized it then, but the fact that she'd supported Winter instead of taking his side had secretly enraged him. Oh, she had attempted to placate him, saying that it might be merely a phase, a fancy, and that once Winter saw how difficult it was, she might yet change her mind.

But secretly she knew better. Winter was, in many ways, very much like her father. Once she set something as her goal, she would not be dissuaded.

Jacques, perhaps anticipating this, had taken steps to ensure Winter did not become attached to Academy life by demanding that she not be assigned to a Huntsman team. He'd thus calculated that this would yet bow her to his will.

He probably should have known better.

And then, the day of their middle daughter's tenth birthday, Jacques had made a disparaging remark about Huntsmen in front of Winter. He'd goaded her, in fact. And their oldest daughter, now nearing sixteen, had dared to argue back. Jacques had slapped her, shocking everyone in the room, and Winter had merely frowned, turned her back, and left the Schnee Manor without a word.

That had been even more of a shock.

Jacques had stormed off, and missed his younger daughter's party completely and leaving Willow unable to pursue either of them, to ensure Weiss's celebration was not ruined.

It was only after the guests left that Willow was able to locate her husband in his offices, and the resulting argument had been like nothing she'd ever experienced. On her part, it was a combination of factors. Outrage that he'd raised a hand to their oldest daughter and then missed their youngest's birthday celebration. Years of frustration finally bubbling to the surface. Frustration because he seemed to not take her opinions into account. Frustration because he seemed to have less and less time for her over the last decade.

And Jacques had raged at her. He'd sneered at Winter's choices, and at what he called Willow's weakness in coddling both children. There were moments where she feared he might strike her.

But he didn't.

No, he had not struck her, even though he was clearly as angry with her as he had been with Winter herself.

He'd done worse.

He'd revealed to her, coldly, that had never cared for her in their two decades of marriage. That he'd married her solely for the family name and the prestige that had come with it. That all pretense of affection and adoration for her had been just that… pretense. That the times when he'd lain with her, and the resulting children, had been perfunctory or merely to assuage his own needs. Oh, he'd found her physically desirable, at first, but now… he had what he wanted. The name. The empire. And heirs that he had believed he could mold and guide to continue his legacy long after he was gone. Not her father's legacy, but what he now saw as his.

She was merely a tool. A means to an end.

That day, Willow Schnee's world had collapsed. Her entire family felt like it shattered over the course of months. Winter ceased visiting or calling, not wanting to hear Willow's protestations. Young Weiss grew bewildered as her mother and father separated within the manor. Separate bedrooms. No longer speaking to each other. Gradually ignoring each other. Little Whitley seemed to be hurt the most.

It might have been possible for Willow to hold the family together, at least regarding her relationship with the children, but Jacques began purposefully driving a wedge there too, and her own hurt ran too deeply. She took solace in drink, withdrawing into herself against his betrayal, unable to see how that initially hurt her children.

Her entire marriage, loveless. Used by a man who had professed to adore her.

Thus she spiraled into a cycle, from sober guilt over how she was not there in any real way for her children, to impotence regarding how to correct it now that it had gone so far, to despair over what her own life had become, to the distant numbness of alcohol, and back again to sober guilt.

For two years now, she'd lived her life this way, only participating as much as absolutely demanded of her. She did so for appearances sake, to stave off the threat that Jacques might divorce her, taking her children completely from her, and leaving her destitute if she did not maintain a public façade.

And so she wore a mask at public events made up of her own face. Polite. Bland. Proper. And he, knowing her pathetic ways, ensured the staff knew when to cut her off from further alcohol so that she did not embarrass him.

. . .

The fundraiser at the Crystal Palace had been going on for several hours. Willow was miserable, tired, barely functional, and wanted another drink. It had been almost an hour since she'd finished her last glass of wine, and the waiters had declined to bring her another.

Jacques was standing with a small group of wealthy business contacts. Winter of course was at the Academy. Her two younger children were at a table with the notable youths of other families, with Klein keeping careful watch over them.

Willow sat alone.

She sighed. She might have been able to leave, but Jacques' security detail had been given orders, she knew, to ensure she stayed, a trophy for Jacques' arm. Her personal valet, Winston, might have helped her to bypass that. Would have in fact, which is why Jacques had insisted he stay back at the manor.

Fine. She grumbled to herself. Washroom. Yes. Washroom would… be a break. Yes. She levered herself up from the table, putting all of her incredible Schnee willpower into walking with purpose and poise to the side doorway, through it, and down a hallway to the ladies washroom. Her energy lasted just that long. Once inside, she nearly fell, but grabbed a sink and steadied herself.

Willow Schnee stared into the mirror at her mask. A mask of haughty indifference.

But she could see through it. The eyes behind that mask were haunted. Angry. Tired.

What… am I doing here?

She made it to a stall, feeling pain trying to fight through the alcohol, and relieved herself. She would not be missed for a while, so she sat there longer than was really required, head in hands.

Don't want to be here. Want… a drink.

She schooled herself again. Leaving the stall and washing her hands, an observer would have been impressed with how she went from weaving drunk to finishing-school graduate as she passed out the door of the washroom. She would have sufficient energy to get her back to the table, but that was all it would do. She was unsure what would happen after that.

She was so focused on maintaining that poise, that when a banquet staffer in the hall gestured that she should turn left instead of right, she believed him, and opened the door at the end of the passage and stepped through.

And found herself outside as the door latched closed and locked behind her. It had been an exit only.

Oh.

Well.

She at least had her cloak with her still, since it had been cold in the hall. She gazed blearily around her, finding herself in a side alley, and pulled the hood over her head against the sudden chill. There was no one here to see her, so she abandoned her poise, and staggered forward.

Maybe there is… somewhere... I can get a glass. Yes, just one. And then. Winston perhaps?

Just one glass.

She moved down the street. No. Not a street. Alley. Was that bad? It seemed, untidy. Cluttered. But it was difficult to focus.

It seemed only moments passed before a man suddenly grasped her by the arm. "Dammit woman, I told you I already had the tickets! Come on we're going to be late!"

Her brain was too fogged to understand this. Don't know you. Tickets? I was. Who are you? She frowned and his face swam in her vision. "Buh-" she slurred.

But he seemed very sure. He moved forward, and she stumbled trying to keep her feet. This is… wrong. But he was pulling her along, turning her.

"No buts, woman! Do you want to miss the start of the show?!" The man was speaking very loudly. He was strange and frightening. Then he sped up even more, and she felt her feet dragging. She wanted to protest, but the world was spinning, making her dizzy.

There was a pause as he spoke to two men, and then she was no longer on her feet at all. The world shifted and she was being hauled forward and she felt nauseous. She panicked and started to try to break free of him. "Ma'am," the man hissed, "those men were about to hurt you, I'm trying to save your ass. I'm a Huntsman!"

Something cold wormed its way through the alcohol and she felt a metallic taste in her mouth. Her vision sharpened slightly, and she saw men. Many men. Some with guns. They were surrounding them. "Hand over the woman, and no one has to get hurt," a man with a gun said.

She was going to be hurt. She could feel the certainty. She had once had modest control over Aura and the Schnee Semblance, but that had been a different time. A sober time.

"Fuck it, kill them both!"

Winter. Weiss. Whitley. I'm sorry.

And then the Huntsman… moved.

She felt powerful arms draw her up and against him and the world flew past. She heard the sounds of gunfire, deafening her, and felt stinging in her face. Her ear was pressed against the Huntsman's chest and she heard dull thuds echo through his torso as he was struck in the back.

But he didn't stop. A door banged open, and suddenly she was flying through the air and bounced off a hard surface. Someone caught her, and rolled her to the ground behind a counter.

The man that had caught her leaned down, "Don't worry ma'am, everything's going to be fine. Stay down and quiet." And then he reached under the counter, and pulled out something that looked like a double-headed axe had mated with a large-bore fowling piece before turning his back.

There was yelling, and then the man jumped up onto the counter.

There was more yelling, and she covered her ears with her hands and clenched her eyes shut.

And then gunfire. And screams. More gunfire. Screams. Silence. Laughter.

Laughter?

"Dammit Rhodes…" she heard the man who had been behind the counter with her a few moments ago say.

"Don't worry, Lotus." A third voice said. "We'll take up a collection."

"Who the fuck are these idiots?" said… Lotus?

Willow felt acid in her throat and her mouth began to water. She knew the portent, and she managed to turn and throw up toward the wall instead of on herself. She retched in horror and terror and relief and misery.

Then there was a hand, rubbing her back. It was the Huntsman again. She heard him saying "It's okay ma'am. You're safe. We took care of them. You're going to be okay."

Okay? Something bubbled up inside her, and she began crying. I've not been okay for so very long.

. . .

Thirty minutes later, she was seated in a back room, sipping water and shaking badly. The Huntsman… Rhodes was his name, was using her scroll to contact Winston. He had one arm around her shoulder, attempting to comfort her.

The video flicked on, and her valet's eyes widened. "Mistress Schnee! What has happened?"

The Huntsman answered for her, "Mrs. Schnee ran afoul of some bad guys. I happened to come on the scene before anything bad happened. She's safe but we need to get her home."

"She's bleeding!"

"A few scratches. Splinters and stone chips. I promise, nothing serious."

Willow Schnee tried to focus. "I don't need… medical. I want to go home, Winston."

"Where are you, Mistress?"

The Huntsman spoke again. "Bar called the Broken Grimm. Owner is a friend of mine." Or will be again once we cover damages. "It's a local Huntsmen hangout. We've got people guarding the doors."

"I will send a vehicle, along with a security detail-"

"No!" Willow exclaimed. Then pressed her hands to her face, speaking through them. "They… were not suffic… not enough. I wish, the Huntsman… he will guard me."

Mistress Schnee. Rhodes mused. That had to mean Willow Schnee. She hadn't asked him if he was willing to continue guarding her. I guess the Schnee doesn't fall far from the tree. But then again, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress, and she has been through some shit just now. "I'll be happy to."

"Mistress…" Winston struggled for a moment. "Very well I'll have an SDC detachment follow in another vehicle, and escort the limousine." He frowned. "I will inform the master of the house as well."

Willow shuddered, and Rhodes felt it through her shoulder. The call ended and she collapsed against him.

"It's okay, Mrs. Schnee. We're going to get you home safe. I promise."

"Yes… I… I believe you." She seemed to gather her wits for a second, then frowned. "You're hurt."

"Not really. Few bruises. It'll heal."

"You were shot. Several times. I heard it."

"Had my aura up. It hurt something wicked, but not a cut. Hell, you lost more blood than I did, and yours are just scratches, ma'am."

She stared for a minute. Blue eyes scanning his face. "You saved my life."

Rhodes grunted. "Yeah. Big damn hero." He laughed at himself. "Garek will be impressed. Reggie will kick my ass."

She shuddered again. "Those men… they wished to take me, or kill me."

"Don't worry about it."

She considered the tabletop, and her voice lowered. "Are they dead?"

Rhodes shook his head. "No, but they wish they were. Like I told your man, Winston, this is a Huntsmen hangout."

Willow considered the implications of that. "Were any of your friends hurt?" She sipped water again. Sobriety was hitting hard, but for the first time in years she was feeling relief and disbelief rather than despair or sadness as the alcohol faded. It was novel.

The Huntsman gave a wry grin. "That bunch of brawlers? We eat Grimm for breakfast, ma'am. Bunch of morons like that was not a problem. Them coming in here… let's just say it wasn't their best life choice in series of bad choices."

Willow felt a laugh try to bubble up, and let it. It came out in a dry chuckle He is… boorishly charming. Then she realized something with a start. When is the last time I laughed… at anything?

He stayed there with her, talking to her. She realized at some point that he was trying to keep her mind occupied. He was avoiding serious topics, keeping the conversation light. He kept one arm around her shoulders, but his hand was draped loosely.

"You have comforted those who have suffered trauma before…" She hazarded quietly.

Rhodes appraised her. "I have. Unfortunately, it's something Huntsman learn. Well, some of us. You feeling better?"

"Somewhat."

"You'll get the shakes at some point. Don't worry about it and don't try to fight it. It's normal. It's your body trying to reset."

Willow nodded. "Thank you."

"Need anything? More water?"

"Wine," she said instantly.

"I would wait." He saw her frown. "Seriously. Alcohol is a bad idea right after that kind of adrenaline and shock."

Willow felt a flash of anger. Who was this man to tell her…

He saved my life. That is who he is. And he is trying to help. "Very well. Yes, more water then."

He stood and cracked open the door, and after a few moments a pitcher of ice water was handed through. "Thanks Lotus. Should be a ride here shortly for her. I'm going with her." There was a murmur and Rhodes gave a low laugh. "Don't even start."

She watched him as he sat back down beside her and refilled her glass. He didn't put his arm back.

She wished he would, then cursed her weakness, then cursed again for seeing needing comfort after nearly being killed as weakness.

. . .

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later, and it opened slowly. It was the bartender, Lotus, again. "There's a big white limo out front, with two SDC escorts. Guy at the door says his name's Winston.

"That's her ride." Rhodes stood and offered a hand, which she took gladly. Her legs felt like jelly. She leaned into him for support and they made their way to the front. The room was empty of her attackers, but there were signs of a fight. Broken furniture. Bullet holes. Her legs buckled and Rhodes helped propel her forward. Winston started, then seemed to see she was taken care of, and instead held the door open.

"I'll give you a ring later Lotus." Rhodes nodded to the other Huntsmen and Huntresses in the room. "Thanks for the assist, guys."

"The normies are tied up in the storage room," one Huntress said helpfully.

Lotus scowled, "We'll have the cops on the way, soon as you folks are clear. You owe me an explanation, Rhodes."

"Thanks man, you'll get it."

The ride to the Schnee Manor was uneventful. Willow sat in the back bench seat. Winston on a side seat to her right, and she had indicated she wished Rhodes to sit next to her. He'd never ridden in a limo before. It was… damn nice.

Willow spent most of the ride staring at nothing. Rhodes knew that look. "Ma'am-"

She started, seeing him for the first time in several minutes. Her brow furrowed. "Willow. You saved my life tonight. You need not call me Ma'am or Mrs. Schnee."

"Alright. Willow… you're going to have some flashbacks. Things that will trigger very vivid memories of what just happened. I'd recommend getting some counseling. One thing that helped me in the past when I felt it coming on is what I call shock and awww." He shook his head. "Sorry I'm not the best at naming things. I would stick an elastic on my wrist. Something that would sting a little when I popped it. When I felt that metallic or acid taste, I'd give it a pop. That's the shock. Drags you out from digging into your own head."

"And the other?"

"Give something a squeeze. Spouse, family, friend, hell even a teddy bear works. It's about convincing your brain that things are warm and cuddly, that you aren't stuck in whatever memory it's trying to loop you into. Might not be the clinical way of handling it, but it helped me."

"Thank you. Huntsman Rhodes."

"And if you're Willow, I'm just Rhodes. I'm not telling you what my friends call me."

She felt the laugh again, trying to bubble up. She looked at Winston and saw he had a small smile as well.

Eventually they reached the Schnee residence, and several servants were there to help her to her rooms. She took Rhodes' hand before she turned away. "Rhodes… I am in your debt, and a Schnee always pays her debts."

"Seeing you home safely is payment enough."

"No… that will not be enough. Not by half. You will provide Winston your information, and we shall contact you." She frowned. "I'll ask you and your friends to be discrete. Our family is the target of many kinds of threats. The reputational can be as dangerous as the physical."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of that." And my friends are known for their discretion.

To Rhodes shock, the man Winston waited until the other servants and Willow had left, before re-entering the vehicle and closing the door as it idled in the drive. "Huntsman, tell me exactly what happened, please."

Rhodes nodded, and relayed it all, leaving out nothing.

The man shuddered. "A Schnee pays their debts, but I do too. Mistress Schnee is dear to me, and has not had a pleasant life. You have saved her from a terrible ending to it. I am in your debt as well, sir."

Rhode frowned. "Well, I'm not gonna ask for anything. But I won't insult you by turning down anything she thinks is appropriate." He waved his hands. "As long as it's appropriate. If they try to give me an island or something…"

Winston gave an honest laugh. "No, I daresay it won't be that. You're a good man, Huntsman Rhodes." More quietly he added "Despite what some might say about the profession." He reached for the door handle. "I'm sure you need to return to your friends, and I will tend to my mistress, and determine how to inform Jacques of what has occurred and how to channel his anger away from her."

"Excuse me?"

"Ah, sorry for my musings." Winston gave him an appraising look. "Master Schnee is not an easy man to deal with, nor does he, in my opinion, provide anything approaching care for the well being of his wife. He will likely be more concerned with how this will reflect on his reputation than how it impacted her."

Rhodes cursed under his breath.

"Indeed. Again, I trust you will be discrete regarding that knowledge as well, though it is obvious to anyone who cares to pay attention."

"Understood."

They traded contacts and Winston exited.

The driver took him back to the Broken Grimm, which was at this moment truly broken. Lotus and a handful of the others were still there, along with a police officer and a well-dressed man.

"Ah, Huntsman Rhodes, I presume. This officer will be taking your statement. I will be… assisting. Counselor Carrigan, at your service. Mr. Winston requested that I help you remember things properly."

The officers seemed bemused by this, but otherwise didn't react.

"You got here fast," Rhodes observed.

Lotus scowled. "They took away those men we dealt with already. We were just telling these two fine gentlemen," the scowl deepened, "that we heard a gunfight outside. You barged in, threw a gods-be-damned woman at me as you ran by, and then those fuckwits tried to murder everyone."

"And this woman," Counselor Carrigan interjected, "was clearly an unfortunate victim of a random street crime, and was completely unknown to any of you."

Rhodes stared carefully. "Right. But doesn't that risk…"

One of the officers interrupted. "Oh, those animals in custody are up for attempted murder charges, among other things. Some of them already have records a mile long. Affiliation with a terror group called Scars, or something like that, for one thing. But they stormed into a bar and tried to kill a bunch of Huntsmen. Stupid, sure, but also enough to put them away for life. People don't appreciate terrorists going after the people who keep us safe from Grimm."

"I see."

"So really, we don't need any further statements about the woman." The officer flipped his notebook closed, frowned, and then reopened it. "Er… did you sustain any injuries?"

"Right. Okay then. Well, they shot me about a dozen times. The shotgun slugs weren't fun." He pulled up the back of his shirt, and the officer took a few photos.

"Geez, must be nice to have aura," the cop mused.

"Doesn't help unless you train years with it. And it also attracts Grimm."

The officer shuddered. "Right. Maybe I'll stick with the vest. Alright, that's enough for now. If we need you to testify, we'll be in touch."

"And please, remember what you said here," Carrigan reinforced. "There's no need to… exaggerate any details if anyone asks in the future." He turned toward the owner of the Broken Grimm. "Oh, and Mr. Lotus. I trust it is understood that any repair costs should be forwarded to me, along with the signed NDA forms I have left with you." He eyed the remaining Huntsmen and Huntresses in the room. "Along with the replacement or repair of weapons or ammunition expended. Perhaps even some modest improvements would be well within your rights to see reimbursed. For your services to the Kingdom, of course."

A couple of the Huntresses grinned at each other.

"Have an excellent evening. I'm sure you are all weary from your exertions," he smiled, and followed the officers out.

. . .

Lotus and Rhodes were sitting in the empty bar, drinks in hand. The rest had left, laughing at the night's hi-jinks. For Huntsmen, it was barely a spar.

"Rhodes what the fuck."

"I'm just lucky that way, I guess."

"Rhodes… you stormed into my bar, in a hail of gunfire, and…" he lowered his voice to a hiss "threw the wife of the most powerful businessman in the entire Kingdom at me." He flailed around. "Do you have any idea how deep of shit I would have been in if I'd missed her? If the gods-be-damned woman had cracked her pretty little skull on the edge of my bar?!"

"I had to get her behind cover before they walked in and saw her. Not a lot of time to think. And you're a big damn target."

"I hate you Rhodes."

"I got your bar upgraded."

"You got my bar repaired."

Rhodes frowned. "I… don't think so. I'm willing to bet you hard cash money that if you were to… upgrade pretty much the entire bar, that you wouldn't have to ask twice about it being approved."

Lotus blinked. He looked down at his drink, and drained it.

"Holy crap, Rhodes. Did we just save the life of the wife of the most powerful businessman in the Kingdom?"

"You didn't hear it from me, Lotus. Drinks on the house?"

"Yeah… yeah I think they are."

. . .

When he got back to the hotel, Rhodes called his best friend, Garek.

Who didn't answer, so he called Selene's. Twice.

Garek answered his wife's scroll the second time, audio only. "Dammit Irons, it's one in the morning."

A laughing female voice added, "And we were… occupied, Rhodes."

"Well tough, Claude. And sorry Selene. But I couldn't sleep, and you want to hear this."

It didn't take long.

"Holy shit, Irons. You just saved Willow Schnee's life."

"People keep telling me that."

"Willow Schnee owes you a favor."

"And a Schnee always pays her debts, she told me."

"This is big, Irons. This is huge," Garek sounded excited.

"What do you say, Garek?" Selene asked, and Garek gave her a hurried explanation of just who Willow and Jacques Schnee were, and how much influence they had. "Oh… yes… I see."

"Right. If we can gain influence with the Schnee family, that with our existing relationship with Team November and Doctor Polendina's team… this could give us access to support our work that we'll need later."

"Yeah…"

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not sure that Willow… Mrs. Schnee… has any actual influence on her husband. There's apparently some… tension there."

"Crap. Well still, it's something. You still saved his wife." He sighed. "Regardless, this is opportunity. And we damn well grab those with both hands. Do what you have to… what you're comfortable with… to build ties with that family, Rhodes. It's important."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Goodnight. And sorry to interrupt your sexy-sexy time, guys."

"Go to sleep, you reprobate. We can talk more later."

[A/N] Thanks as always to my frequent reviewers and I hope you had a happy holiday! AtomicR4y you now know what Rhodes has. He has himself a Schnee!

Ah Rhodes, our poor immature playboy and Willow Schnee, our poor abused alcoholic. Life has a lot of curve balls to throw at you two.