A/N: Alrighty, moving right along. Changes will be made after this chapter is posted. Don't want you guys going hungry out there.
Chapter 16
Arthur looked up at the well crafted wooden sign, scratching his head and wondering just what in the hell he had gotten into. Beside him, Famine nuzzled his shoulder and knocked his hat off, causing Arthur to curse and bend down to pick it up. Sienna had directed him to a stable about ten miles north of their base, in the small town of Prestwick. Apparently, it was a special shop that catered to service animals and Hunstman companions, but the real trick to it was that they could unlock the Aura of an animal. At least, that's what the brochure had claimed. Arthur placed his hat on his head and gave Famine another look, then grabbed the reins and walked in underneath the sign.
The stable was almost the size of a small ranch, with wooden fences and a few corrals next to a medium sized barn. It was bigger than Sadie Adler's old barn, but not quite the size of the Braithwaite establishment. It was definitely built with better materials though, but there were other differences from most stables he was familiar with. Most of the horse stables Arthur had seen carried tack and horse equipment, and had hitching posts and training corrals. This place had training dummies and what looked like restraints in each stall, though for what purpose he couldn't fathom. The doors to the big barn were open, and Arthur could see a few people doing chores in and around the barn. A couple of younger boys, maybe twenty at the oldest, and an older man that looked closer to Arthur's age. Both boys had short red hair and freckles, wearing buttoned up plaid shirts with some working jeans while the owner of the place was dressed in a green over shirt and some denim coveralls. Or at least, he assumed that the man was the owner.
"Hey, boss! I think we got a customer!" One of the boys called, before he finished tightening one of the restraints in a stall. The other was tending to a beautiful golden Turkoman in another stall, though a small sign noted that it was not for sale. The owner came out from mucking an empty stall to see Arthur, who waved and nodded. The man set his pitchfork down and wiped his brow, his long dark hair flecked with gray. He had a pointed nose that reminded Arthur of the brothers near Rhodes that had fenced stolen horses. This feller seemed much more honest, however.
"Hello there, sir. Name's Trevor. I run these stables." He nodded toward Famine, and whistled appreciatively. "That is a magnificent beast you have there." Arthur grinned and nodded in appreciation, patting the ebony Arabian on his neck.
"Yeah, he's been through a lot with me. Part of the reason I came up here." Arthur held up the brochure Sienna had given him. "I heard you boys can give a horse Aura? Or at least unlock it?" Understand dawned on Trevor's face, and he rubbed his chin as he approached the gunslinger. His eyes, however, were all on Famine.
"We do offer that service, but awakening the Aura in a horse is no small matter. Do you mind?" Arthur nodded, and Trevor stepped up to Famine slowly. The horse shied away at first, edging closer to Arthur as the unfamiliar man approached. But Trevor just kept moving slowly, soothing the horse with a calm, gentle tone. "Sshhh, it's alright now. I just want to take a look at ya." Famine still seemed hesitant, but another series of pats from Arthur and he finally relented. Trevor ran his hands up along Famine's neck and chest, presumably checking for sores or any sign of neglect. He felt along the edges of the saddle and underneath where the blanket was. The entire time, Famine tolerated his presence, though a fresh apple from Arthur helped to smooth his ruffled feathers. When the man finished his examination, he stepped back with a pleased smile on his face.
"You've taken good care of him, that's for sure. And he definitely seems happy with you." Turning to look at the two younger boys, Trevor motioned with his hand. "Edgar, Allen, go get one of the stalls ready. We've got a good one here." Arthur snorted at the names of the two brothers, earning a look from Trevor.
"What, do they got a brother named Poe, too?" Arthur joked. Trevor didn't see the humor in it, and he gave Arthur a queer look.
"No, their brother's name is Geoffrey. Why do you ask?" Arthur waved him off, not really feeling like going through the trouble of explaining himself.
"Forget about it. So tell me, why do you need to put him in a stall?" Arthur gestured toward the one with restraints that Edgar and Allen were currently bustling about. They had anchored several eye bolts into the wall itself, and were running straps from there to the harness, measuring it for Famine's size. Arthur started feeling nervous, and he wasn't even the one going into the contraption. It look too much like something Charles Chatenay would have gotten into with one of his many 'songbirds'.
"As I'm sure you're aware, activating your Aura is no small matter. You're pretty much weaponizing your soul. Now for people, that means you get in touch with who you really are. Your will shapes your Aura, and there's not really much of a downside unless, say, a hardened criminal gets it done. For animals, however, it's got a little more weight to it." He took the reins from Arthur and gently guided Famine into the stall. Arthur followed beside the horse, more for support than any actual know how when it came to fastening him into the stall. The horse protested with a toss of his head, showing his teeth and flattening his ears. It took Arthur stepping up and patting his neck, reassuring the stressed out animal as Trevor and his two assistants finished their tasks.
"Alright, what do you mean? Is he gonna explode or something?" Arthur kept himself in Famine's field of view, and that seemed enough to keep the horse calm for the rest of the set up. When Trevor stepped back, Arthur did so as well.
"Who knows?" Trevor said with a shrug, which wasn't something Arthur was comfortable with. "Your Semblance is random, but some say that it can be an embodiment of all you can be. For us, that seems philosophical, but for Famine here it is incredibly literal. The horse clearly trusts you, and you have a good relationship with him. That's the only reason we're about to give him super powers. He'll have Aura and be stronger, faster, and more resistant to Grimm. And who knows what kind of Semblance he might have?" Stronger, faster, and kicking monster butt? Didn't seem like a downside to Arthur, but then again he took proper care of Famine. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that a horse that wasn't properly cared for could easily become as dangerous as the Grimm, if not worse. A rogue horse that could shrug off bullets and kick a truck over? That did not sound good at all.
"Alright, I think I see your point." Arthur allowed, then gestured toward his captive partner. "So how are you gonna do this?" Edgar, or maybe it was Allen, snickered at the question. Trevor hushed the boy with a look, but it still caused Arthur to raise a brow.
"That's the trick of it. I'll provide the security and the instruction, but you're the one who is gonna do it. You have the greatest bond with him out of everyone here." Trevor made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go on, get up next to him. Hands on his neck and chest are usually best." Arthur did as he was told, walking up and placing his hands on Famine. The horse looked at him faithfully, trusting him completely even despite the strange circumstances. It occurred to Arthur right then that out of everyone he had known in America, except maybe Dutch, Hosea, and John, no one had stood by him quite like Famine. The horse had been his companion in everything he'd done, ever since that fateful day out on the plains.
"Now all you have to do is say his name, and channel your Aura into the horse. If you're as close as I think you are, Famine here should get a nice boost." Trevor instructed. Arthur barely heard him, so wrapped up was he in the solemn realization of his partner. He tried pushing Aura into the horse where he had his hands placed, and Famine only snorted as the energy began to move. The horse had been with him on train robberies, escapes from the law, and had even kicked a bear in the jaw for him on one occasion. The memories brought a wry smile to Arthur's face.
"Famine." As soon as he said it, his Aura dropped from his body with a snap, draining his energy with a sound like the crack of a whip. That same white-gold shimmer covered Famine, and the horse reared up in alarm – taking the stall with him. The sturdy wooden partitions shattered and broke in an instant, sending splinters flying as Edgar and Allen dove for cover. Trevor pulled Arthur away, groggy as he was, and together the pair stepped back a bit as Famine came back down. Arthur noticed that when the horse's hooves struck the dirt, they left an indentation and sent a rumble through the ground. Awe rushed through him, even as the black horse's Aura slowly faded away. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees, panting slightly. He'd been tired before, sure, but draining your Aura was another feeling altogether. It wasn't just shortness of breath or that familiar ache in your limbs; Aura loss felt like the world just couldn't go on anymore. His motivation just to stand took all that he had, but the feeling faded with every step.
While Arthur struggled with restoring his own Aura, Trevor rushed forward to grasp Famine's reins once more. The Arabian looked ready to bolt, giving that he was both newly strengthened and confused as hell. Thankfully, Arthur's training won out over the panic in the horse, and he reluctantly allowed the stable owner to pull him from the ruined remains of the stall. Arthur stood up shakily, heaving a breath as he grabbed hold of Famine and leaned against him. His Aura was replenishing quickly, but it still left him feeling drained and tired. Trevor was nearly beside himself.
"That was by far one of the most powerful rituals I've ever seen! You have quite the horse here, sir." The man clapped Arthur on the back, and with his fatigue the blow nearly put the cowboy on the ground.
"He's...he's definitely one of a kind." Arthur allowed, though the stress the horse had put him through in the time he'd had it made him question his choices. "So, how much do I owe ya?"
After a brief respite, Arthur and Trevor haggled out a price that left them both somewhat satisfied. It helped that Trevor and the boys had been so enamored with Famine's awakening, as Arthur felt like they would have charged more otherwise. Even so, he found himself trotting back to the camp, on a horse that could survive bullets and blades.
The ride back provided enough time for Arthur to finish recuperating, and he had to admit that Famine had a lot more energy in his steps. The horse would normally need brief breaks if he was trotting cross country like they were now, but the horse continued to keep a quick pace and showed no signs of stopping. If anything, Famine seemed happy to move as quickly as possible.
It took roughly half an hour, but soon enough Arthur was tying the Arabian off at the edge of the White Fang construction site. Famine watched him walk away calmly, though Arthur was now certain that the horse could uproot just about anything he was tied to. If Aura had boosted his strength as much as it had, he would hate to receive a kick from the Arabian now. When he reached Sienna's tent this time, she had three other White Fang members gathered around her table. He recognized Marcus, but the other two he didn't know. Judging by the rough leather armor they were wearing, they had probably belonged to the bandit tribe Sienna had absorbed into the White Fang. He considered walking up, but decided against it at the last moment. This was her business; if Sienna wanted him involved, she would ask.
He could overhear the meeting from his position, however. And even though Arthur was courteous, he wasn't stupid. He did his best to listen in, though he kept his back turned and acted as if he was observing the construction. Behind him, he overheard Sienna asking multiple questions, and it sounded like she was asking about itineraries and schedules. The answers she was getting were less than pleasing, judging by her irritated grunt. Still, she didn't rebuke her followers simply for giving information she didn't like. He heard them mutter a few more things, and then they all went silent. Arthur pretended not to notice, though he suspected that he had been noticed.
"Arthur!" Yep, she noticed him. "Come on over! I thought you would be longer." Now formally invited, Arthur joined the White Fang at the table. The two former bandits gave him appraising looks, and Marcus simply nodded once. He liked that about Marcus; you always knew where you stood with the guy. He nodded in return, then looked back at Sienna.
"I made good time getting there, and Famine's even faster now that he's upgraded. I don't know what it will take to stop him now." He joked. "So, where we at on this mansion job?" The others glanced at each other, and then looked at Sienna.
"It's fine. I told him a little bit about it earlier." She then turned to Arthur. "There's been a bit of a snag. The man in charge of the retreat was dismissed recently, though I doubt it had anything to do with our questions. Apparently, some precious things had been going missing." Arthur winced at that, and leaned against the table.
"That puts a damper on things. What's plan B?" Sienna shrugged, even as the two bandits exchanged irritated looks.
"For now, we don't have one. Normally a change in leadership would provide a good chance to strike, but I don't like the uncertainty that comes with it. Until a new master of the house is hired or chosen, I would rather we wait. This is our first operation to make a difference for Faunus everywhere; I will tolerate NO mistakes." Somehow, Arthur felt like that statement wasn't meant for him.
"I see. Well, how long do you think the wait will be? Got any more jobs available?" Not that he was hurting for lien, but he had just turned his horse into a living weapon. When Sienna shook her head, he sighed heavily. "Then I think it's about time I fulfilled my promise. I'll run to Vale real quick while y'all build and get scope things out. By the time I get back, we should be ready."
"That would likely be best. Our sources inside the Schnee family's staff seem to think that six weeks is a decent guess. Until we have anything further, you're good to go. Just..." She glanced toward Marcus and the others, then looked back at Arthur. "... be careful. We know there are worse things between here and Vale than Grimm."
The strange man that had paid her a visit. From Sienna's tale, he was definitely powerful, and he wanted Summer dead. Since Arthur was carrying the Relic that he was most likely after, all caution was warranted until the thing was safely in Ozpin's possession.
"Yeah, you're probably right." He stepped back from the table, taking that as his cue to leave. "Let me know if anything changes. I'll be back quick as I can. I may stop in to see the Marstons before I come back, though." Were it just the two of them, Sienna would have likely sent him off with a hug and a parting joke. Since she was surrounded by her subordinates, however, all she gave him was a regal nod before she went back to work planning out the revolution. Arthur cast a look back at them for a moment, then shook his head and started back down the cliff side. He waved goodbye to a few of the Fang that noticed him, then took Famine's reins from the post he had been tied to.
It was finally time to remove the burden that rested in his saddlebags.
The glass that slid across the bar to John went untouched, though he wasn't above sampling the boss' alcohol. No, he needed to be sober for this discussion. Judging by Junior's guarded expression, the information broker wasn't about to start imbibing either. John sat at the bar of The Club, though during daylight hours it was less of a nightclub and more in line with some fancy restaurant. As such, the dance floor was deserted with the exception of a few goons performing cleaning duties in anticipation for the night's festivities.
"So what makes you think you can ask me something like that?" Junior demanded, leaning across the bar in what he probably though was a relaxed manner. John knew full well he was just resting closer to the pistol that stayed behind the bar.
"The guy that has almost wiped out the Red Axe Gang, that's who." John said firmly. "Come on, Junior. You know as well as I do that they're good as finished. I even beat a few of them that had Aura." The fights had been hairy, no question, but John's experience in ducking Pinkertons and countless outlaw gangs had paid dividends up against this young urban group. Their leader was still on the loose, but the last place John and Chester had raided was filled with ledgers and records of the gang's activities. If Junior's preliminary report was anything to go off of, the Red Axe was just about buried.
"Yeah, so what? Chester says you've been doing good work, but I reward more than muscle. So far, all I've seen is someone who is quick with a gun. If that was all it took to hand out Aura, half of them would be fighting for the top and the other half would have Beacon down on our heads!" Junior seemed pretty adamant about the topic. "I'm not saying you don't have what it takes; it's just too risky for me to be handing something like that out." The two stared each other down for a few moments, then John broke the eye contact first. He turned in his seat and picked up the glass he had been offered. John knocked it back in one go, wincing slightly as it burned into his belly. If Junior was handing him whiskey like this, the broker didn't hate him at least. But still, if John was going to have any chance of surviving in this new world, he needed that added security that was Aura. And if Beacon kept a tight watch on it, he was going to have to acquire it through...illegitimate means.
"Is there any other way to get it, besides somebody doing it for me?" John asked. Junior shrugged, standing tall as he pulled out a glass and began polishing it. Great. Some kind of information broker.
"The Academies keep a tight lock on information like that. I only know of the one way, though I hear there is another. You'll have to ask the twins if you want a real answer." He pointed his chin toward the dining area of the club, where Miltia and Melanie were serving guests as high class waitresses. Somehow, John felt that not a single customer realized just how deadly the Malachite twins were. John mulled the idea over, then set the glass down with conviction and stood up.
"You know what, I think I will. Do you think they'll mind if I poke my head in for a bit?" Junior looked John up and down, then eventually shrugged and tossed a thumb toward the door.
"You aren't dressed like some ranch hand, so you shouldn't look too out of place. Go on in, and hope Melanie is in a good mood." John nodded his thanks and walked away from the bar, crossing the dance floor toward the far door.
Unlike the get up he'd been wearing the day they had come to Remnant, John's new employment with Junior had allowed for a few more expenses. Instead of the coat that had been through many a wash, she wore a knee length charcoal coat with black lining in the pockets and a silver pen sticking out of the lapel pocket. His ranch pants had been traded for charcoal gray slacks, and he wore a white buttoned undershirt underneath a black vest. A gray paragon town hat sat on his head, much cleaner than what he had worn on the trail. It was close enough to the Xiong Family's normal outfit for him to be easily associated, but still allowed for his own input. Or rather, Abigail's input. We finally have decent place to live, John Marston. I will die of the plague before I let you wander around like the vagabond you used to be!
John shook his head at his wife's words, pushing the door open and entering the restaurant part of The Club. Like Junior had said, roughly ten people sat at various tables, all decorated with red table cloth and expensive plates. Here, the silverware was actually silver, and Miltiades and Melanie Malachite took every pain to make sure the customers were happy. Well, maybe not every pain. Judging by Melanie's furious scowl, one of the patrons had gotten on her bad side. Normally humorous since he wasn't in the line of fire, but today it didn't work in John's favor. John wisely looked around the room for her sister instead.
Miltiades Malachite stood at the entrance to the restaurant, her crimson dress and black fur shawl perfect for welcoming the more distinguished patrons of the club. And unlike her sister, Miltia had the patience and level head to deflect or ignore any impropriety directed toward her. Doing his best not to attract any attention, John stayed close to the wall and approached the host stand at a casual pace. Most folks would ignore you completely if you looked like you belonged there, and the last thing John needed was to bother Junior's more affluent customers. An elderly couple had finished seating when he made it to the stand, and Miltia nodded politely to him.
"Hey there, John. What's up?" John stepped to the side and out of the way so that anyone entering would think that he was a waiter or something, and to allow Miltia to work if necessary.
"I had some questions about Aura, and Junior sent me to you two. He said he knew more rumor about it than anything, and seeing as how Melanie looks fit to be tied..." John nodded his head toward Miltia's irritated sister, and she nodded in understanding.
"I see. Well, I can't claim to be an expert or anything, but I'll try to answer." She turned more toward him, half facing John but still watching the door.
"Well, he said that there were two ways to activate your Aura. One was to have it released by someone else, but he didn't know the other." John held his arms up helplessly. "Figure you can shed any light on that?" Miltia covered her giggle with the back of her hand and waved him off.
"Let me guess, you wanted in on the weaponized soul that also protects you from bullets, blades, and bombs?" When John nodded, the girl could only sigh heavily. "Well, I'm guessing he didn't want to activate yours. Not that I blame him."
"He mentioned that Beacon would come down on him something fierce if he gave it to me. What gives with that?" At that, Miltia frowned slightly and huffed.
"Leave it to someone else to ruin our fun, but he's probably talking about the Vices. They were a pretty strong gang up until around seven years ago. Apparently, one of their recruiting pitches was that they would unlock the Aura for anyone who proved themselves. I'm talking guys lower on the totem pole than you and Chester." The hostess crossed her arms expectantly. "Three guesses what happened?"
"The Huntsmen and Huntresses found out?" John tried, wincing at the thought of being so restricted by the Academies. To his surprise, Miltia snorted.
"Hardly. By the time Headmaster Ozpin and Vale's council found out, there was nothing left of the Vices to clean up. Turns out, handing out superpowers to every idiot that could count to twenty without taking off his shoes was a bad idea. In two weeks, what members of the Vices hadn't been killed in the power struggle of the century had been picked off or recruited by other gangs. Junior had heard about their tactics, but he hadn't been sure. Now, he owns a lot of turf that used to belong to the Vices." Which meant that no matter what John did for Junior, the likelihood of him getting his Aura unlocked was slim. It was a frustrating prospect, but he couldn't really fault the big man for that.
"I see. Well, what's the other way to unlock it? Maybe I can go that route." Miltia winced at the question, and it only made his hopes plummet further.
"Yeah, see. Having it unlocked for you is the easy way. The hard way is to put your own life in such danger that it activates on its own. Apparently, when you reach the absolute point between living and dying, your soul has a tendency to step in and shift the balance. However, it's so dangerous to reach that point that most people who go through it weren't trying to activate their Aura in the first place. They just wanted to survive." John briefly considered it, but he threw the notion away. Even if he could manufacture a situation where his Aura was unlocked, it wouldn't stop Abigail from burying him underneath Beacon.
"Yeah, my wife would kill me if I tried to do something that way." John put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Ah well. Thanks, anyway Miltia. Anything I can do to help around here?" John figured if she was willing to part with info like she had, the least he could do was offer to help. The crimson dressed girl reached into host stand and drew out a scroll, black and sleek unlike the standard one that Jaune had.
"If you're on your way home, can you drop this off at Maurice's place? The idiot left it behind during his cleanup this morning." One of the night shift guys that actually wasn't involved in shakedowns and thievery. John had met him in passing, but only really knew where he lived because the Marstons were so close by. Hell, Abigail knew more about the guy than John did. John took the scroll and pocketed it, offering a grin in return.
"Sure. Only fair to return it, or we'll never get him to come back." Miltia chuckled at his joke, then waved him off with a smile.
"Thanks John. Be safe getting home." The outlaw nodded in return and went back toward the door he'd come in from. He didn't want to disrupt The Club's more legitimate business, after all. As he left, he never noticed the pair of eyes watching him from one of the tables. As the door closed, those same green eyes stared at the door for a moment. Until a hand came up in front of his face, prompting the man to look back at his dining partner.
"Were you even listening, sir? Or did you space out again?" A very annoyed Glynda Goodwitch demanded. The blonde woman glared at her superior, and the gray headed man had the good graces to look sheepish.
"Not quite, Glynda. Just doing some...information gathering." He brushed off her irritation with an easy smile, but his eyes were sharp as he stared at the door. The man from before that had been asking about Aura matched the description of someone Ozpin had heard about, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what...
John found his way home easily enough, just a few blocks from The Club. It was deep enough into the city to stay away from obvious criminal activity, but still within Junior's turf. That way, John didn't have to worry as much about Abigail or Jack being in danger. His service with Junior these past few weeks had been enough to bring them into the Xiong Family fold. That came with perks, including neighborhood security and even a sponsorship to a nearby school.
Jack wasn't fond of school at first, but being around a bunch of other children his age had helped him grow. Many of them were children of the other gang members, but many locals that were unaffiliated attended the school as well. Jack didn't have many friends yet, but John knew he would make some in time.
If Jack had attended school in Saint Denis or Valentine, he would have been an outcast at best, a pariah at worst. Most children in towns and cities had grown up together and formed cliques, and any newcomers had difficulty integrating. Much like society itself. In Vale, however, Jack's imagination and stories from America had earned him attention. In a world like Remnant, stories and fairy tales were rampant, and anyone with a good story became pretty popular. The fact that it was true had no bearing on how the kids looked at Jack.
John knocked on Maurice's door not ten minutes later, and returned the man's scroll with a smile and a wave. The middle aged man apologized for the trouble, but John waved off his thanks and headed home not long after that. The front stoop of the apartment building they living in was made of brick and concrete, just a series of small steps leading into the building itself. The apartment manager kept it and the foyer clean, and so far they hadn't had any issues with the man. John walked into the small foyer, nodding to the night guard that sat behind a bank of monitors. The security cams showed the hallway for each floor, as well as the front stoop and the laundry room. Truly, technology was amazing. Abigail couldn't stop lauding the merits of the washer and dryer, and had been able to join Jack in his studies. Her reading was far ahead of what it had been in America, and she had begun searching for a job outside of the apartment. John's work brought in enough money to live on, but Abby wasn't content to simply live. She would thrive in this new world, and drag John along with her.
With that thought in mind, John made it up the stairs to the second floor, where he could already smell dinner through the door. The key went into the lock almost faster than John could turn it, and he stepped through the door with a wide grin on his face.
"Honey, I'm home!"
The cell doors opened and closed with a frequency that was both irritating and reminded him of his hopelessness. The other inmates received visits, both professional and personal, with enough time in between to bring on the illusion of sleep. But never rest, as the next visit would awaken him with the loud clanking of metal gates and jingling keys. Once night fell, the visits would cease, but the guards allowed for no rest with their untimely patrols. He would sleep, fitfully, only to have some blue uniformed bastard come by with his baton and rattle the bars.
It was once considered in ancient times that sleep deprivation was the most efficient form of torture. At least, he had gleaned that from a number of texts on their journey through America. Only now did he see how effective it was. Alone, his every movement and interaction controlled by the government, and Dutch Van der Linde's greatest complaint was how little sleep he was getting. The man rolled over on his cot, wondering just how long the bureaucracy of the American Justice System would stall his execution. Bill and Javier had managed to escape, but without Dutch, Hosea, or Arthur, there was little the two could accomplish. Javier was brave and Bill was strong, but the two didn't have enough of a brain between them to accomplish anything significant.
Another gate down the hallway signaled the coming of another visitor. A wife, and child, maybe even a lawyer if the sap involved had any money. Regardless, it meant nothing to him. Dutch had been abandoned by those he had cared for. Betrayed by Micah, left for dead by Pearson and the Marston family. Even Arthur...
The thought of his wayward son brought another cold fire to Dutch's gut, dragging him further and further into his spiraling depression. Arthur had been sick, dying even from a terminal disease. But that didn't stop him from sending a madwoman to tear the gang apart and kill Micah. Her claims of Micah's collusion with the Pinkertons might have had some merit, but that had nothing to do with John and Abigail deserting him when he had needed them most. Which apparently had been Arthur's plan all along.
"They betrayed me...all of them..." Dutch muttered to himself, torn between anger and despair. Arthur had moved on, most likely dead and buried by this point. John was nowhere to be seen, and everyone that had wronged him in the end had gotten what they wanted. All except him.
The rattle of a baton on his cell door interrupted Dutch's musings. He rolled over far enough to cast an eye at the door, and found a prison guard standing there.
"Wake up, Van der Linde. You have a visitor." The officer reported, stepping back immediately to allow room for someone to step up. Curious, Dutch rolled over and sat up. As the guard placed the key in the lock and opened the door, Dutch's jaw dropped at the man that stepped inside.
"Hello there, Mr. Van der Linde! I'll be representing you in the coming trial. My name is Isaac Norman." The posh accent was still there, as well as a flare for the theatrics. The guard might have believed it, but Dutch knew that he was looking at Josiah Trelawny. Dutch looked between his disguised friend and the guard before finally realizing that he was required to speak.
"Well, come in, mister Norman. I'm sure we have much to discuss." Dutch slid toward the wall on his cot, allowing room for Josiah to sit. The man stepped into the cell with a confident stride, but paused before he sat down. The con artist turned and looked at the guard expectantly.
"May I have some privacy with my client? Attorney-client privilege is a sacred thing, you know." The guard bristled and crossed his arms, clearly not willing to cooperate.
"My orders are to make sure you don't orchestrate an escape. Dutch Van der Linde is notorious for schemes like that." Trelawny was unfazed by his words, and looked away with a whimsical sigh.
"Very well, listen in if you must. However, if the prosecution says anything that even remotely sounds like it came from this discussion, I will use the resulting mistrial to have you dismissed. I'm sure that's not a discussion you want to have with your sergeant, mister Jacobs." Trelawny was all confidence, his voice even as if he were stating the results from the day's races. He kept his eyes on the guard, and there was a tense few moments of silence. Finally, Jacobs relented and stepped back.
"You've got fifteen minutes. When I get back, your meeting is over." He closed the door with a slam, locking it and stepping away to leave them in peace. Josiah waited a few moments to make sure the guard was really gone, then took a seat next to Dutch with a grunt.
"What a charming fellow." The con artist muttered, shaking his head at the guard's behavior. When he turned to Dutch, he found the gang leader giving a pitiful, searching look.
"Why are you here, Josiah? Come to say goodbye?" Trelawny's mustache curled as he smirked, dusting off his shoulder before he adjusted himself to be more comfortable on the cot. Which was difficult to do, considering all the lumps.
"No, nothing of the sort. Though I can see things aren't going so well for you." Dutch scoffed at the understatement. "In either case, I'm assuming you haven't heard?" Dutch wearily groaned, wondering just what kind of new Josiah could have. None of it was good these days.
"What could possibly have happened that prompted you to come here?" Dutch asked despondently, not seeing the logic in braving the state pen just to give Dutch an update on current events. Granted, Josiah made himself scarce whenever he helped them on the big jobs, but the man had a few run ins of his own with the law. He was tempting fate just by being there, and under a false name, no less.
"Well my boy, I'm here for a multitude of things. I've news, first and foremost, and a request. We can discuss further from there." Josiah cleared his throat. "I regret to inform you that Mr. Williamson and Mr. Escuella have both been captured by the law. They shipped Bill all the way to New York, and let Mexico have Javier. I'm afraid we won't be seeing either of them again." Another pained look crossed Dutch's face at the loss of more of his boys. The last two to stick by him, even when all others had betrayed him.
"Of course we won't. Hell, you're the first person I've seen these past few weeks that wasn't wearing a star or stripes." Dutch looked down at his own ratty uniform, nothing like the resplendent vest and hat he had been notorious for. The dapper outlaw, reduced to this? It made him want to vomit. Josiah patted him comfortingly on the shoulder, though he noticed that the man's grip was much stronger than he remembered.
"What happened, Dutch? I managed to speak to Bill for a moment before they whisked him away, but he had the most outlandish things to say. That you had been attacked by a witch?" Dutch's eyes hardened, and the memory of that fateful day came back to him in glaring focus. The day that woman had come, sent by Arthur, to take everything he had left. "His last dying wish was that John Marston and his family get away from you." She'd said it so accusingly, as if she knew even half of what they had suffered, what had been taken from them. Her ignorance could be forgiven in time, but Arthur knew full-goddamn-well what had happened. And he had sent the silver eyed devil to them anyway.
"She didn't attack us. If she had been there to kill us, the Pinkertons and the government would have no need for this cell. Not when she could deflect bullets with a damn sword and take a shot to the back of the head. No, she came for Marston." Dutch looked back at Josiah, and there was a hint of desperation in his eyes. "She said Arthur had sent her, shortly before he died. My boy set a demon upon us! Why?! To punish me like I'm somehow responsible for all this hardship? Didn't he realize that I was suffering just as much as the rest of us?!" Dutch made to stand up, to begin a tirade to end all tirades. He tried, but the weaselly, weak, never-raised-a-fist-in-his-life Josiah Trelawny didn't let him move a muscle. If anything, he pushed Dutch down further with an iron grip.
"Dutch, I need you to focus. Tell me about the woman. What did she look like? What did her sword look like? Did she say anything?" The gang leader turned and looked at Josiah again, his eyes narrowed at the unprecedented strength and seriousness the man was showing. Trelawny had always relied on illusions, sleight of hand and misdirection to get by. He'd never been able to manhandle one of the Van der Linde gang, let alone Dutch himself. His eyes narrowed, and he wondered just how long Josiah had been hiding this strength.
Reluctantly, Dutch recalled how the strange woman had entered his camp with Micah and Agent Milton in tow, and had completely torn him apart without inflicting a serious injury or taking any kind of damage. When he got to the part after she had left, Trelawny held up a hand.
"I was afraid of that. It seems that I miscalculated." The cheerful Josiah Trelawny was gone, replaced by this calculating man. He twirled his mustache as he thought, leaving Dutch in suspense as he considered something. "Yes, I see. There are new pieces on the board." Trelawny stood up, facing the door as he did so. Their time was almost up, by Dutch's reckoning. But he had gotten more questions than answers.
"What the hell are you talking about, Josiah?" Had the man gone mad? Just what he needed, sharing a cell with the last of his gang right when his mind cracked. A fine end to the tale of Dutch Van der Linde. Josiah turned around, a searching look on his face as he studied Dutch. Unsure of what Josiah was looking for and caring very little considering his overall situation, Dutch just stared back.
"Very well. I see I have no choice. We're in need of some assistance anyway. Tell me Dutch; what would you say if I offered you a job?" A what? "I'm afraid your gang is no more, and the hierarchy of my organization may be a little different than what you are used to. Still, I'm sure it will be far better than the alternative." Josiah had truly lost his mind. Dutch stood up to look him in the eye, but there was no quirk of the lips, no twinkle in his eye. Josiah was serious.
"I'll do any damn thing you need me to. But it's gonna be hard to do anything when they wrap a noose around my neck in two weeks." Dutch waved a hand at dapper illusionist. "What the hell kind of organization are you talking about? Is this what you've been doing whenever you go off and disappear for weeks on end?"
"None of that now, Dutch. We're short on time. All I ask is that you keep an open mind and trust me, Dutch. I can make all this go away." He gestured at the cell, the door, and the cot. "But what comes after may not be what you wish. We'll be dealing with the devil this time. Quite literally, I'm afraid." What the hell was he talking about? The occult, maybe? A certain amount of apprehension settled in Dutch's gut, but at the same time...what did he have left to lose? His gang was scattered to the wind, any chance of his dream coming true along with them. Arthur was dead, John on the run, and the last two loyal souls would be dead before the year's end. If Javier wasn't, already.
"Alright. You've got me. Now tell me how we're going to get out of here before mister sunshine comes back." Josiah chuckled at that, finally showing some semblance of the man Dutch thought he had known for years. Josiah pulled out a pocket watch, looking down at it for a moment before he snapped it shut and cursed.
"Blast. Running late again. A terrible habit for me, I'm afraid. Just one last question, Dutch." He held out his hand, and either it was a trick of the light, or did it shimmer? "What's your favorite fairy tale?"
When the guard came back, the door was locked, just as he left it. He opened the cell door, however, and immediately began calling for help. Because Dutch Van der Linde was gone, and so was his attorney. In fact, the only thing left inside the cell was a small calling card, with a white rabbit printed on one side.
Taiyang Xiao Long just couldn't get enough of listening to his daughters squabbling over schoolwork. Ruby and Yang were both excited to go to Beacon soon, and Signal Academy just wasn't challenging anymore. Yang was due to transfer for Beacon in a few more years, and Ruby wasn't far behind her. They'd even made their own weapons already, fitting to their strengths and styles. He and Qrow were leaning harder on them in class now, pushing them to work even harder.
A few parents had cried about special treatment, but considering the difference between how he treated his kids and how he treated their kids was determined by the five hundred extra pounds Yang had to punch, the complaints were largely unfounded. He knew what Yang was capable of, and she asked him to push her as hard as he could. It worried him, though. Yang had done a lot to step in after Summer disappeared, and he had to wonder if she was pushing too hard and why. Whenever he asked her about it, the blonde girl just brushed him off with another corny joke and went back to what she was doing. If it was her way of coping with losing both of her mothers, then Tai had no real reason to stop her. But it didn't stop him from worrying.
Ruby, on the other hand, was taking off with her studies and her style. Her Semblance allowed her to move at ridiculous speeds, and Qrow mentioning that a sharp blade cuts more at higher velocity had been all the excuse she had needed to take up the scythe like her uncle. Unlike good ol' Qrow, she was working on fitting a sniper rifle into the workings as well, though the young girl was still struggling on that front. There were a lot of moving parts in a mecha shift weapon, and the designs she had for her scythe were ambitious, but still largely theory at this point. Qrow worked with her when he could, but between traveling and teaching, the old lush didn't have the time to help her completely. Still, Tai was proud that Ruby pushed ahead regardless.
The blonde man pulled another plate out of the soapy water and set it in the drying rack, reaching for a glass he had just rinsed. The water was hot, all the better to clean the dishes, but it left him flushed. The window above the sink swung outward easily, and the gentle breeze brought immediate relief. Tai sighed in contentment and stepped away to find a towel for his hands. From what he could hear of the girls, Yang was being stubborn over her Aura theory, and what she was screaming wasn't quite right.
Tai listened to the girls bicker for a few more moments before he decided to head upstairs, but a clatter behind him made him pause. Tai turned around, alert for any suspicious activity, and found the plate he had just set aside back in the sink, its round edge sticking halfway out of the soapy water. In its place on the drying rack was a small paper note, folded neatly. Tai looked from the note to the window with apprehension, and shut the window and locked it before he grabbed the note. His hands were still damp from the dishwater, but thankfully it was a very simple message.
Come outside – alone. Next to it, a rose emblem that he had not seen in many years. Tai stared down at the note for a few seconds, then crushed it in his grip. Was this some kind of sick joke? Stalk him until he left a window open, then leave a note with his dead wife's crest?! Oh, he was coming out alone alright, and anyone involved was going to be thoroughly thrashed for this.
Ruby and Yang's argument completely forgotten, Tai stomped over to the front door with a thunderous expression. He threw the door open, scanning the front porch for threats. None sprang to mind, but the side of the house with the kitchen window was opposite of the front door. Tai turned left, toward the shadowed portion of the house. Up above him, the shattered moon shone down on Remnant like the world's largest street lamp. It provided decent light, but the shadows of his house still hid the ground closest to the wall. He turned the corner, tensed and ready for a fight, but he was not prepared for the sight he found.
In the shadows cast by his home, a woman stood quietly, a white cloak pulled up around her with a hood, covered everything except her chin. She stood in a relaxed pose, leaning forward slightly as if she would take off running at any moment. Just like Summer had. Was this some kind of copycat, someone looking to torment him with the image of his dead wife. First her crest, then her cloak, now this?!
Unless...
"Who the hell are you?" Tai demanded hotly, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles popped. "What's the big idea, dressing like Summer?" At his challenge, the woman winced, or as best he could tell from her exposed face. She did not respond, her silence pensive as if she were considering his words. When no answer came forth, he stepped forward threateningly. "Well?"
In response, the woman tilted her head up. And Taiyang gasped at the silver eyes that looked back at him. Even worse, she was crying. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, and she even sniffled like Summer had. Like Ruby did when she was upset.
"Tai...I'm so sorry..." She whispered, almost afraid to say his name. But that was her voice; was there a Semblance out there that could mimic a dead woman like this? The words knocked his breath from his lungs, and Taiyang took a small step back. He blinked, then shook his head and blinked again. But Summer remained, standing in front of him in all her glory. Snotty nose and all.
"What is this? You can't be Summer? This is..." The pain of her loss those years ago stole anything further from his lips, He'd already been down that road, and the grief had nearly killed him. Not only that, but the girls had been hurt too. But she couldn't be here!
"It's me, Tai. I swear." Her voice trembled, but it was Summer's voice all the same. "I was injured, and had to go into hiding for a while. If you had known, you would have come after me. And they...they threatened the girls, Tai! I couldn't let them hurt Ruby and Yang!" Summer apologized, her eyes wide and frantic as she begged him to believe her. Tai had heard something about what Qrow had found in Vacuo. Craters everywhere, blood and some strange venom lying around. More of it Summer's than not. They had assumed that the Grimm had claimed her body, bandits the rest. It was an easy conclusion to reach in the lives of Huntsmen and Huntresses. And he wanted to believe; Gods, did he want that more than anything. But all the hurt of losing her came rushing back all at once and cemented his feet to the ground.
"...Summer?" He choked the name out, and it was enough to spur her into motion. The silver eyes warrior sobbed in relief and dove forward, wrapping her arms around Tai's neck. The blonde man was so shocked, he couldn't possibly react. He simply stared ahead, frozen as Summer sobbed into his shoulder as she clung to him. After a few moments, however, the paralysis ended.
Summer gasped when Tai's strong arms wrapped around her, crushing her to his chest as he returned her embrace. He towered over her, but she could hear the sobs he had been fighting ever since he'd first laid eyes on her.
"Summer...we looked for you for so long." He whispered, and she could feel tears dropping onto her hair. She said nothing in return, simply savoring the feeling of his embrace that she had craved for so long. Man and wife stood there for a time neither could recall, long after the tears had dried. When he finally got a hold on himself, Tai wrapped his hands around Summer's shoulders and looked down at her.
"What happened, Summer? Why did it take you so long to come home?" He looked her over, but there was no obvious sign of a permanent injury. Not the kind that would have kept her away for years. Summer sniffled and wiped her eyes, but her sad smile still shone in the moonlight.
"I'll explain everything, I swear. I'm so sorry it took so long for me to come back. You wouldn't believe who convinced me." She said with a breathy laugh. Tai cocked a brow, and she chuckled again. "It was Ray. Raven sent me back. She took my place, and sent me here to protect my family." Taiyang blinked, somehow even more surprised. Not only had his wife returned to him, but his ex-wife had sent her back to him? This...this was all too much. When he said as much, Summer winced.
"I'm sorry, Tai. I never should have stayed away as long as I did. But the ones that attacked me, they threatened to come after you and the girls. And they were so strong..." She shivered at the memory of the fight that had nearly killed her. "I sent someone here to bring Ozpin the Relic. He should have been here by now." Tai was well aware of the struggles of Ozpin and Salem, but he hadn't heard anything from Qrow in some time concerning the Maidens or the Relics. Then again, he'd dropped all that stuff after it had cost him his wife, so maybe Qrow had just decided to keep it a secret.
"We'll figure all that out later. Right now, I need to know what happened." And so, she told him. The ambush in Vacuo, how she had found the gateway that led to America. Stealing the Relic of Choice had been especially tricky, but once Summer had it she made her way back to America to hide out. When she explained meeting Arthur and activating his Aura, Tai hand to stop her.
"You sent a man you had only know for a period of hours into a world he had no idea about, with one of the four most powerful things on the planet in his saddlebag? And then, you just somehow hoped that he would find his way to Ozpin?" Tai sighed heavily. "Honey, that's kind of really, really dumb." He said it as gently as possible, but Summer pouted harder all the same.
"I didn't have any other choice! The gateway was unlocked thanks to me, but I'd used up my choice when I did that. Arthur saved me and needed a doctor, so I figured I'd send the Relic back to Oz in the same trip." Tai still looked unimpressed, but he remained silent until she finished her story.
When she did, Taiyang heaved a great sigh, then drew her into another embrace. Summer returned it, glad to finally hold her husband for the first time in years. When they separated again, she stepped back, though she kept a firm grip on his hand.
"I'm sorry, Tai. I should have come back earlier, but I was afraid that Salem's people would go after Ruby or Yang. If they thought I was dead, they would at least leave them alone for a few years. I was scared." Tai ruffled her hair, causing another pout. It was just like he had done when they had gone to Beacon together, and she had reacted the same way back then too.
"I understand. I know it must have been terrifying, but I'm just glad you're back. Wait until the girls see you." He turned and nearly dragged her toward the front door, Summer squawking in surprise as his superior strength brought her along for the ride. Tai threw the door open and dragged her in, his excitement visible in how the door frame cracked. Summer winced at the damage, but was able to close the door without much difficulty.
"RUBY! YANG! COME DOWN HERE!" Tai barked forcefully, though there was a smile on his face. The girls had been arguing earlier, so they would likely come downstairs thinking they were about to be scolded for arguing. There was a scuffle upstairs, along with some more heated words, then he could hear the stomping of feet coming down the stairs. Yang came first, as she usually did during their arguments, and was so busy defending herself that she didn't even seem to notice Summer. The young blonde was wearing an orange t-shirt and some brown gym shorts, already changed into her pajamas.
"Ruby started it! She said she knew more about how Nevermore attack than I did, and...she..." Yang's voice died down along with her temper as she slowly realized just who was standing in the living room. Ruby came down a second later, dressed in a long sleep shirt and pajama bottoms covered in little cartoon Beowulfs.
"Yang, don't tell lies like that! Mom never let you get away with that!" She protested hotly, before realizing that her rambunctious older sister had fallen silent. When she noticed, Ruby too turned to face Summer, and her eyes went as wide as her sister's had. The two just stood there, processing what they were seeing, but Summer couldn't help but squirm.
They had both grown so much, and Tai had raised them on his own. Would Yang resent her, for leaving her behind as Raven had? Would Ruby, for never being there for her? Would they hate her for abandoning them? All these worries ran through her mind, but Summer toughed it out and put on a watery smile. She couldn't stop the tears that ran down her face, however.
"Look at you two. You've grown so big!" She spluttered, her voice breaking as she did so. And like that, the spell was broken.
"MOM!" The two girls shouted in unison, and Summer had never been more glad to be tackled to the ground. She landed on her butt with a grunt, but soon found herself buried in a mane of yellow hair as Yang latched onto her. Judging by the weight on her right side, Ruby had the same idea. Now, all three of them were crying. Yang and Ruby both blubbered words she couldn't even begin to understand as they clung to her, like they were afraid she would disappear again at any time. Summer held them close and sobbed a bit herself, but her tears were those of happiness. She looked up at Taiyang, and the smile on his face was the biggest he had seen since Ruby had been born. The blonde man stooped down and wrapped his arms around his family, pulling them close as the girls all cried together. Summer let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and she smiled even despite the tears running down her face.
She was home.
A/N: A tearful reunion long overdue, in my opinion. I was looking forward to this scene ever since I made the decision to bring Summer back. Arthur will be clearing up his Vale troubles next chapter too, but I have to make some revisions before we see chapter 17. A reviewer said that Arthur seemed to be stuck on a lot of side quests, but my man: Red Dead Redemption is all about them side quests! If all you play are story missions, you ain't playing right.
Writing for you guys is fun, and I love to read the reviews, but I can't express what this outlet does for me, too. I had my first suicide attempt call on my shift last night, and it really hit home. I got the girl the help she needed, but while I was cataloging evidence I found a bunch of suicide notes addressed to different people. The pain and lack of self worth in those letters had me sitting in my cruiser for a little bit. Writing this story and others brings me joy, both in the responses I get as well as shaping the stories themselves. But if you or someone you know are considering self harm, please talk to someone. I promise you that you can get through whatever storm you face, even if you need to ask for help. Even if you don't call 911, a friend or family member can be all the support you need. And if a friend calls you and asks for help, please support them as best you can. This is a cold and brutal world we live in, and all we have is each other.
P.S. PeppyClown, I know I keep missing you, but I promise we'll kick some ass together.