Chapter 18
The two men stared each other down, each waiting for the other to make the first move. A slight breeze wafted over the clearing, rustling the trees and sending waves through the grass. Qrow kept his eyes trained on Arthur, searching for any hint on how he was going to strike first. He could already see that the outlaw's gun belt was nowhere to be found, which gave him an advantage. Arthur was more focused on Qrow's weapon, knowing that it would decide the victor in their scuffle. He couldn't afford to let the man start swinging.
Slowly and deliberately, Arthur paced to the right, straying away from Summer's house while keeping the same distance from Qrow. The Huntsman let him, just as interested in preventing damage as he was causing it; preferably to Arthur's face. They circled for a moment, steadily moving away from the house. As Arthur reached the point to where house was behind Qrow, he stepped onto a small stick, snapping it beneath his boot.
The sudden crack filled the clearing, and they both took it as a starting pistol. Qrow swept in low, swinging Harbinger toward Arthur's feet. The outlaw stepped back, twisting to the side to avoid Qrow's follow up kick. He drove his elbow down into the man's shoulder, earning a grunt and sending Qrow past him off balance. Arthur capitalized and jumped onto Qrow's back, locking his arms together and shifting his weight to throw him down to the ground. Qrow staggered, planting his feet, and threw his head back with a growl, nearly breaking Arthur's nose. The outlaw flinched as his eyes watered, blinking rapidly as he recovered. The momentary stun was enough for the Huntsman to break free, throwing Arthur's arms off of his and swinging sideways. The thicker edge of the blade caught Arthur in the arm, and the outlaw cursed and backed off to get some distance.
Qrow spun and jumped after him, swinging downward and then across Arthur's knees when he sidestepped. Arthur's Aura flared up to protect him, but it only dulled the pain as he gritted his teeth. The outlaw kicked out at Qrow's knee, missing the follow up punch by a hair's breadth and throwing two more. The second one caught Qrow square in the chin, and he ducked the third to give Arthur one in return. The cowboy flinched as the strong blow landed, backing up a bit from the strike, and it opened him up for a solid kick straight in the gut that sent the air from his lungs and his body rolling through the grass. Arthur hacked and coughed as he struggled back up to his feet, and just barely shied away from a strike that would have cost him his arm. Qrow came in viciously, giving Arthur no room to maneuver as he swung Harbinger with speed and ferocity. Arthur had to stay mobile to avoid the blows, deflecting the flat of the blade with his hands wherever he could as he retreated quickly. Qrow pressed the advantage, swinging and striking with relentless fervor to keep Arthur on the back foot.
"Alright, enough of this!" Arthur snarled to himself, and stepped in instead of back. The sweeping slash that Qrow had chambered came into him, but Arthur was too close for it to connect. His arm wrapped around Qrow's and tightened, twisting the man's elbow at an awkward angle and forcing him to release Harbinger. Arthur turned his body into Qrow's and forced him back with his shoulder, distancing the Huntsman from his weapon and throwing in a backhand to the face for good measure. Qrow growled when his hand left the grip, and he came right back with a haymaker that Arthur blocked. The gunslinger blocked two more and reached forward to grab Qrow's shirt, dragging him in for a vicious headbutt and giving the drunk two body shots while he was dazed. Qrow backed off and tried to circle around to collect his weapon, but Arthur kept between the two of them, his fists raised.
"Let's see how well you do without that over sized razor." He snarled, spitting into the dirt. Qrow's only reply was to smirk. The two closed in with bouncing steps, fists up. Qrow probed Arthur's defenses with a few jabs, both of which Arthur blocked. Confident that he had the range advantage, Qrow shook his arms out with a huff and offered a 'come hither' gesture. Arthur obliged with a straight punch to the chest that Qrow nimbly sidestepped, letting the gunslinger swing as he dodged the blows. His feet began kicking up dirt and grass as he moved, proving a slippery target that was frustrating to chase. Arthur knew he was being baited, but he had to press the advantage before Qrow collected his sword.
Arthur feinted to the right and dashed forward, grabbing hold of the one thing Qrow couldn't defend; his cloak. The rogue let out a surprised yell as Arthur turned and yanked, pulling him to one side and off balance. He kicked Qrow's leg out from under him and balled the cloak in his hands, sending Qrow to the ground with two hundred pounds of pissed off cowboy on top of him. Qrow landed on his side, immediately rolling to his back to keep Arthur from turning his head into paste with no way to retaliate. He got one arm free to block, but the first thing to hit his face wasn't a fist, but rather his only cloak. Blinded, Qrow had no way of predicting the raining fists as Arthur threw punch after punch, changing direction and timing to keep the Huntsman guessing. Each hit that landed got a grunt of pain, and Qrow waved his arm wildly before he remembered his training. He bucked his hips, unseating Arthur from his base, and was able to free his other arm and drag the cloth from his face, though he had to eat two more punches to do it. Once both arms were free and his sight was clear, Qrow jerked his head to one side to dodge one of Arthur's punches, then trapped the appendage under his arm. Arthur tugged, trying to get his arm free, and was pulled off balance and tossed to the side as Qrow rolled. The motion gave Arthur a split second of leverage to free himself, and he kicked away from Qrow and rolled to his feet as quickly as he could, the other man doing the same. Arthur was panting slightly, winded already by the constant strain that came with ground fighting. Qrow looked to be in better shape, though the sweat that beaded his brow showed that he was feeling the fatigue as well. Both men hazarded a look around, and Arthur cursed; Harbinger was six feet away, equal distance from both of them.
Qrow took off, diving for his sword even as Arthur moved to intercept. The Huntsman reached the blade first, but he couldn't pick it up before Arthur slammed into his back, charging him into the side of the house with a crack. Where fists and boots had been the weapons before, now it was all elbows and knees. Arthur kept his weight into Qrow to keep him from coming off the wall, but it left him open for an elbow to his eye and cheek. He took the strikes with a growl, shifting his weight and bringing his knee up into Qrow's gut. He did it once more, then feinted and pulled the man into a headlock when he reacted. From the side, all Arthur had to do was maintain his grip and the choke would succeed. Qrow threw a few more elbows into his side, floundering as he realized the danger he was in. When those proved ineffective, the man drove his foot into Arthur's instep, causing Arthur to cry in pain and move his leg further away. When he did, Arthur watched one of Qrow's hands ball into a fist, and the next thing he knew he was seeing stars.
"Ack!" Arthur gasped out in pain and felt his grip loosen, pitching forward on his own accord to cup his groin as Qrow staggered away, massaging his neck with a satisfied smile.
"Ah, nothing beats the nutcracker. Always gotta protect the jewels." He joked, leisurely walking over to scoop up Harbinger. Arthur wheezed as the waves of pain rolled over him, but he still managed to take some kind of stance even so. It was a dirty move, but one he would have done in the same situation. The two men stared each other down once more, raring to go for another bout, and they charged forward the same time.
"QROW BRANWEN!" A furious voice cried out, stopping both men in their tracks as they looked at the front door. There, standing in all of her glory, was Summer Rose in a white nightgown and black pajama pants. A hastily thrown on and poorly adjusted nightgown, seeing as how one strap was falling down her shoulder. But the state of her clothes had nothing to do with the look of utter shock that crossed Qrow's face. He let Harbinger fall with such disregard that the segmented blade dug into the dirt, propping itself up with no help from his limp fingers. He was completely and utterly starstruck at seeing his friend alive, regardless of how pissed she looked. Arthur... was not.
CRACK! A fist drove into Qrow's cheek and brought him out of his trance, sending him to one knee. He coughed and groaned, spitting a glob of blood from where he bit his tongue. Arthur shook out his wrist, giving Qrow a venomous look as he turned away from him.
"That was for the nut shot, asshole." He growled, then nodded to Summer. "Sorry bout the noise, Summer. I tried explaining it to him the first time." The pajama clad woman turned her scathing glare onto him for a moment, then returned it to Qrow when the outlaw held up his hands in surrender.
"Tai told you to meet us in Vale tomorrow! That does not mean come to the house in the middle of the night and attack my guest, bird brain!" Wow, even for one o'clock in the morning, that was harsh for her. Summer stomped over to where Qrow was knelt, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up to face level, even as the man continued to stare at her in shock. "Do you have any idea what you interrupted? I've been away from my family and my husband for nearly eight years, you inconsiderate oaf! I have needs, and having you damage my house in the middle of those needs is not what I need right now!" As she screamed her ire into his face, Summer began to shake Qrow around, causing his head to flop this way and that. Finally snapped from his reverie, Qrow brought his hands up and pried Summer's hands from his collar, standing to his full height even though the dumbfounded look never left his face.
"Summer? You're alive?" He cut his eyes to Arthur, who was gingerly walking off his discomfort from their scrap earlier. "You knew about this?" At that, Arthur threw up his arms and glared at him.
"Like hell you were going to listen to me, anyway. After that fight in Mistral, I could have told you anything and you'd call me a liar. And that's with me saving your ass!" He jabbed an accusing finger at Qrow. "She asked me to keep it quiet so them that ain't so fond of her wouldn't come here to finish the job, so don't take it out on me because you're out of the loop." With his piece said, Arthur stalked back inside, hoping to find an ice pack at least. Summer watched him slam the door closed, then turned and looked back at Qrow. He had the good grace to look sheepish, but there was some irritation in his eye as well.
"Why the hell couldn't anyone tell me you were back? All Tai said was that he had a surprise for me. You know as well as I do that surprises aren't my favorite thing." Summer sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes as she massaged her brow.
"We couldn't tell you over the scroll because I'm still trying to keep it a secret. And you were on the coast, for crying out loud. Tai told you to meet us in Vale, so that means you had time to take a train, or at least an airship. There was no need to be so paranoid." She reprimanded. Qrow cocked a brow and reached behind his back, pulling out his flask and unscrewing it.
"Sorry." He took a swig and grimaced, feeling the sting as the alcohol washed over his bitten tongue. "Comes with the territory when your friend goes and dies on you." Any other irritation Summer might have had at that died, and her shoulders slumped. He took one more drink and stowed the flask, stepping forward and pulling his team leader into a hug. She blinked, surprised that he hadn't at the very least cussed her up one wall of the cabin and down the other.
"Still, though. Out of all the times I've been lied to, you being dead is a damn sight better than the truth." He looked down at her as he stepped back. "You know you owe me an explanation, though." And he was right; Qrow deserved the lie as much as the rest as her family did, and she was still trying to smooth things over. They weren't back to normal, not by a long shot, but it was still something worth doing. Offering him a wry smile, she nodded toward the house.
"Might as well come in, I guess. We already gave the couch to Arthur, though. You get the chair." Qrow sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and shrugging.
"Just my luck."
"Again!" The clash of metal on metal rang out, nearly comparable to the waterfall in the back ground. Gambol Shroud swung out, catching Marcus' claymore and diverting it to the side. The large Faunus let the blade fall and reached out, grasping a handful of hair and hauling to the side. Blake cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise as he interrupted her spinning counterattack, only for her form to distort and fade away. Sensing an attack coming from behind, he brought the massive sword up behind his back just in time for Shroud to ring off of it. His claymore swung in a wide arc, as much to force her back as it was to use its momentum to turn and face her. Blake rushed in once more, spinning both of her weapons in a deadly dance. Because of the size of his weapon, Marcus was forced to fend her off with his Aura covered arm as often as his weapon, draining it even as she picked up her assault. He retreated slowly, taking one step at a time as his eyes tracked her movements.
His opening came when Blake spun, bringing both weapons around in a horizontal slash that his sword was too low to block. Marcus' eyes glinted as he kicked his blade upward, the massive hunk of steel sending bother of her weapons skyward. Blake's eyes widened as the return swing came down on her. She flashed to the side, her clone taking the hit, and was surprised again when a meaty hand wrapped around her throat. The cat Faunus gasped in surprise, thankful that the larger man wasn't actively trying to strangle her. She brought the handles of both weapons down on his wrist, but he was too stout for it to have an effect. The world spun around her as he reared back, then slammed her down into the ground with enough force to break the top layer of dirt.
Blake's eyes bulged as her breath rushed from her lungs, coughing hard and trying to get her bearings as he readied his weapon once more. By the time she knew what was happening, all she could do was cross her blades in front of her as the massive sword came down.
"Enough!" The command was barked, and Marcus' massive blade stilled in an instant. Blake panted heavily, her eyes fixed on the edge of the blade that was just above her crossed swords. She knew full well that the hasty defense wouldn't have been enough to stop a blow of that strength and weight. On the edge of the training area, Adam clapped his hands a few times, signaling that the bout was over.
"Better than last time. You're getting more creative with your swings, but your escapes are still predictable." The red headed man lectured, entering the ring with Illia at his side. She wore a black and gray stealth suit, one that stopped at her thighs and her shoulders with a golden zipper and black boots. Her Dust-filled whip, Lightning Lash, was holstered safely on her hip. Blake slowly set her weapons down, looking up at Marcus as the big man brought his claymore up to his back, his free hand coming down to offer her up. She took it, and was lifted back onto her feet as if she weighed no more than a piece of paper.
"You're too aggressive for fighting someone like me." Marcus added. "A big opponent is usually going to be slow, and closing the distance does you more harm than good. Gambol has a ribbon and a pistol on it, so consider your ranged options before you try to close in. I would have tired myself out chasing you, especially with that Semblance of yours." Blake nodded, thankful for the advice even as she fought down the shame of losing. Not that she should have expected victory in the first place; Marcus was a veteran from the Faunus Rights Revolution, and had fought people twice her skill and lived to tell about it.
"I know. I just don't want to run away from everything. It doesn't feel like I can do as much from a distance." Marcus chuckled at her explanation and patted her on the head, ruffling the bow that she wore. At first, Adam had questioned it, but the small black ribbon worked wonders for helping her blend in with humans. Considering she was being trained as an infiltrator with Illia, it was a change that eventually had his blessing.
"Don't try to bring politics into a fight, girl. Fighting on the battlefield doesn't have to mirror how you fight in the war. Sometimes, you gotta step back before you get crushed." He pulled the chain from his belt and let it drop, then hooked the bottom of the claymore into it. A hooked piece of metal on his back took the hilt, allowing him to free his hands as the blade sat diagonally across his back. When he turned around to walk toward Adam, Blake caught the word 'Lancer' inscribed on the blade.
"You're improving quickly. At this rate, I'll be recommending you two for duty by the end of the week." Blake's cheeks colored at Adam's praise, and Illia looked away in embarrassment as well. "Your father's training has done you both some good." The training Adam mentioned had been provided by Ghira, who would die a thousand deaths before he would let his darling daughter leave the walls of Kuo Kuana without being able to defend herself. The constant presence of Grimm coupled with the racist views of humans had prompted him to impart some training on her early in life, though not to the level of a Huntress. When Illia had been relocated to Menagerie, her proximity with Blake had allowed her to get in on the training as well.
"Thanks, Adam. It would be nice to actually win a fight for once, though." She added with a wry smile. Adam returned it, but shook his head at her point.
"Failure teaches far more than success, Blake. I got tossed around quite a bit before I learned how to fight back." He let the end of Wilt's hilt rest on his palm, thinking back to all the demonstrations gone wrong. And how the SDC had branded him for his rebellion...
"Don't look now, but we've got an audience." Marcus' gravelly voice snapped Adam from his thoughts, and he turned and looked back toward the base. Walking up the short trail toward the waterfall, Romulus and Remus Lupin were making their leisurely way toward the four of them. At the sight of them, Adam's mouth set into a thin line, but he turned away before Blake could see it.
"Marcus, have them spar a bit more before we take a break. Some repetition will do them both some good." He declared without looking back. Marcus nodded, then stepped between the two teens and Adam's retreating back. It was as much to get their attention on him as it was to block whatever meeting the Lupin brothers had in mind.
As he walked, Adam could hear Marcus imparting more words of wisdom on Blake and Illia, but his mind was conflicted. Ever since Sienna had taken power, the Lupin brothers' own influence had waned. They were merchants, and had made their way in the world by rubbing elbows with those that the White Fang opposed. However, though their methods put them in the graces of snakes like the SDC, it also granted resources and influence around Remnant that were useful to the White Fang. And in all reality that is what they were; useful. Not comrades or freedom fighters, but merchants that were of use to the cause. But even a useful wretch was still a wretch.
When they were close enough to speak without shouting, Remus stepped to the right, away from his brother.
"Good afternoon, Adam. A nice day for some training." He offered pleasantly. An empty statement, meant only to open the conversation. One he had no interest in entertaining.
"I would prefer rain, myself." Adam replied, crossing his arms. "The harder the training, the easier the living. Or so my father once said." Remus smiled shallowly at the wisdom, clearly irked by his disagreement but only willing to show teeth. His brother cleared his throat and ignored the slight.
"We were wondering if you would be willing to sit down and have a chat with us? There are some things needed to be discussed, about the future of the White Fang." Of course they would ask that. Adam cast another glance behind him, glad that Marcus had Blake and Illia's full attention. If either of them overheard the conversation, the Lupin brothers would be flayed alive by sundown. Not that Adam planned on being kind, but they had approached him for a reason.
Sienna had been Supreme Leader a scant few weeks, and they were already approaching him to discuss succession. They believed him a young fool, one best suited at pointed toward the nearest target and stepping back. They were not the first to make the assumption, nor would they be the last. But he could not remove this tumor within the White Fang without at least hearing them out.
"What did you have in mind?" He kept his voice civil, if barely, and both men lightened at his words.
"Nothing at the moment, seeing as how you are, ah, busy at the moment." Remus gestured dismissively toward the sparring trio behind him. "But we'd like to invite you to come speak tonight, near the second entrance to the facility. Just to share some insights." Romulus nodded eagerly as well, his grin hoping to be genial and inviting. Adam would have called it predatory if either of them actually had any spine. He tucked his chin, mulling it over some, before finally nodding. His answer given, Adam turned and stalked back toward his trainees, not able to keep up the facade a moment longer. The brothers turned to go as well, though Remus couldn't resist one last parting comment.
"We can't wait to see what you can do for the cause, brother." A sick feeling crept into his gut, bile rising in his throat at even the notion of calling the two Lupins 'brother'. They knew nothing of fraternity. Were the White Fang to disband in the morning, Romulus and Remus would wash their hands and head to Atlas, eager to test their Lien and mettle in the stock exchange. Their loyalty was to themselves, and it was made evident by their machinations today.
But... he wouldn't involve Sienna until he had some hard proof. Any action he took now would be ineffective, and merely silence them in his presence. If they wished to draw him over to their side in hopes of usurping Sienna, then Adam would give them enough rope to hang themselves with.
Sean waved goodbye to Arthur as the older man made his way to the airport. He had an appointment in Mistral, from what he told, and Sean could see that it was important. Arthur hadn't even made time to visit the Marstons; as soon as he'd left the store with his new scroll, Arthur Morgan had packed his things and left. It had only been by a stroke of luck that he'd run into the man. Well, Arthur and the family he had stayed with.
They were a lovely family, too. Doting wife, caring husband, with the ever watchful brother in the background. It was almost storybook, and Arthur had given him a brief summary on how they'd met. Summer Rose was quite the looker, but Sean had not survived run ins with Huntsmen by flirting with their wives. Even to his comparable inexperience, he could tell that Taiyang would wipe the floor with him.
And so, with Junior in control of the slums and Arthur crossing the continent yet again, Sean found himself with nothing to door. Normally, he'd find the nearest watering hole to test his luck with women and his liver with drink, but somehow the prospect wasn't as appealing as he hoped. A year ago, he and Arthur and John would have been right terrors, crawling across half of Vale with a bottle in every hand and a tune on their lips. But ever since his little heart to heart with Marston in Vacuo, the man had acted like a spooked deer in Sean's presence. Even Arthur gave him some long looks, though the man was never keen to explain when Sean questioned him. The camaraderie from their time under Dutch was still there, but it felt buried and faded.
"Ah, who needs 'em?" Sean proclaimed loudly, earning a few concerned looks as he passed pedestrians on Vale's busy sidewalks. Fridays were busy enough as it was, but with Academy terms coming to a close, Signal and Beacon were letting out of classes a little early, so students were flooding Vale to escape the tedium of schooling. Sean had managed to pick a few pockets, but ultimately he'd decided to make himself scarce once Huntsmen and Huntresses in training started flooding the shops. The last thing Junior needed was to bail him out of a brawl because he fingers weren't as light as he thought.
Sean passed another corner and turned onto Baker Street, a lovely little avenue with a coffee shop, a bakery, and a few other little storefronts. It was close enough to the main drag to still be popular, but small enough to only allow foot traffic. It also had the benefit of sporting several alleys that went unexplored, except perhaps by amorous couples seeking privacy. It mattered not to Sean, as all he had to do was step out of notice.
Once he was in the alley, he prepared to use his Semblance to get to the Club, but was stopped when his scroll started ringing. Cocking a brow, Sean looked around to see if he would have any eavesdroppers, then pulled out his scroll. No number was displayed, but the name Doctor sat underneath a gray square where the caller's portrait would normally be. Sean pressed answer, then brought the device to his ear.
"Afternoon, doc. A little early for your call, innit? Figured I had another week before your payment." The doctor responsible for his cybernetics had agreed to take the money for his surgery in installments, though the man did include a hefty interest rate. Twelve hundred Lien a month, with a fifteen percent interest rate, kept Sean active and on the hunt for more jobs. Junior's work was lucrative, if somewhat illegal, so by Sean's math he'd be paying for at least another year.
"Good afternoon, mister McGuire. I was actually calling to see if you would meet with me." The doctor said in his posh accent. "I have a small update for your eye, and I was hoping you could help me with something. I'd be willing to waive this month's payment in return." Interested, Sean hummed in curiosity.
"Alright then, I'm listening. Same place we always meet?" There was an abandoned office building that the doctor used as a part time clinic for his prosthetics near the Club, and was where Sean had woken up after the events in Rhodes.
"If you don't mind. I'll meet you there shortly, I just have to finish some business with another associate." The doctor replied, and Sean nodded even though the camera was disabled.
"As you say, doc. I'll be there in two shakes." With that, Sean hung up his scroll and pocketed it. He looked around once more for any witnesses, then thumbed his hat with a grin. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he was standing on the rooftop of a building two streets over from the alley. That's what he called his Semblance: Blinking.
Sean had discovered his Semblance after a robbery gone wrong, bolting down a dead end alleyway with some of Vale's finest in hot pursuit. When he'd discovered that the alley ended at a brick wall, all he could think of was how badly he wanted to be up on the roof. When he turned to face the police, Sean found himself standing exactly where he had hoped to. The surprise had almost caused him to fall from the height. With further experimentation, Sean found that as long as he wasn't observed, he could cross the entire city of Vale in roughly five minutes. Even when someone was watching him, he could Blink away, though it took more effort.
Sean pondered why being seen cost him so much more Aura as he dropped from the roof, Blinking in mid fall without breaking stride to walk leisurely down the another sidewalk that was much closer to the Club. He passed a small group of teenagers that were milling about, turned another corner, and then Blinked again. When he opened his eyes this time, he was standing in front of the Doctor's office. An old office building shut down by its former owners, the Doctor operated out of the center of the building and kept the front just as dilapidated as anyone would expect. His actual office was cleaned and maintained, but anyone giving the building a cursory glance would see only entropy. Figuring that he would rather wait inside than out, Sean pushed the door open and stepped in, shutting it behind him.
The Doctor had never actually given his name, but that didn't bother Sean much. He'd come to see how useful anonymity was, and he could understand why a doctor this capable would want to keep his identity secret. Still, Sean knew that he had little to no leverage on the man, and did everything he could to keep things civil. And it wasn't just to stay in the Doctor's good graces. Whenever Sean's eye needed updating, the process knocked him out cold. He was defenseless for as long as the man was rooting around in his head; not a position he wanted for someone looking to be rid of him.
"Doc, ya here?" Sean called out, stepping into the building's foyer. An abandoned office building like this came with a front desk and waiting room, dusty and bereft of whatever furniture hadn't been bolted down. He heard no response, and none of the sensors in his eye detected any signs of movement. Figuring that he had time to spare, Sean strolled deeper into the office, whistling a merry tune as he went. These little check ups with the doctor were starting to become routine, nearly clockwork unless something came up with Junior and Sean had to reschedule. Every six weeks or so, the Doctor would drop by or send a representative, Sean would plug in, and they were done in thirty minutes.
Behind the foyer, a staircase covered in discarded papers and refuse descended down into a basement. The lights weren't powered, but Sean could see well enough with his enhanced vision. The basement continued opposite of the staircase, and as he walked down the musty corridor Sean could hear voices further in. That in itself was strange, since the Doctor only ever came alone or sent an assistant, never both. But, he was a busy man. Maybe he was on a call?
As the corridor approached the single room in the building that still saw use, signs of upkeep began to appear. An absence of dust halfway from the next door, the door itself in perfect condition compared to its surroundings, and the faint hum of power on the other side. Normally it would go unnoticed, but with the rest of the building cold and dead, one could faintly hear the gentle thrum of electricity.
Sean knocked once he reached the door, and the voices on the other side paused for a moment. Now that he was closer, the Irishman could definitely recognize the Doctor's posh accent, though the words he spoke were still too muffled to understand. After a moment a few more hushed words, the Doctor cleared his throat.
"Come in, Sean." The redheaded cyborg did as asked, swinging the door open and closing it quickly to keep the hall's dust where it belonged. As he had suspected, no one was in the room but the Doctor, and he had his scroll in hand. The Doctor was a man of middling age, with short black hair that was gray on the sides. A thick mustache hid his mouth from view, and his green eyes examined everything with analytical intelligence. He wore a gray overcoat with yellow lining and a maroon undercoat with yellow buttons, and a yellow dress shirt could be seen underneath that. A matching pair of gray pants and shoes covered his legs and feet, though his fingerless maroon gloves were absent. "I trust you weren't followed?"
"Kinda hard to follow me, Doc. I don't exactly leave a trail, y'know." Sean spread his arms out in front of him. "But, I made sure no one saw me before I poked my way in." The Doctor nodded in satisfaction and gestured behind him. The white tile and tan walls were scrubbed and sanitized, and in the center of the room was a segmented metal chair with leather padding. There was a bowl-like indention in the head of the chair, which allowed the Doctor access to Sean's cybernetics without causing undue harm. Beyond that, a few cabinets with supplies and a curtain to hide the chair were all else in the room.
Sean removed his hat and coat and set them on the counter near the door, then took his place in the chair. Above him, what had once been the mirror arm for a dentist now boasted a wide range of automated tools, ranging from hypodermic needles to miniature screwdrivers to magnetic disks. The first time Sean had come for his update, the armature above the chair had nearly caused him to run out of the room. Now though, he knew the function of each individual tool, and it was much less frightening.
"What's on the list for today, Doc? Standard update?" Sean asked genially, leaning his head back into the seat like he knew he was supposed to. The Doctor was focused on his scroll, but he came around to Sean's side even so.
"Yes, as always. However, I was wondering if you could look at something for me?" Sean turned his head in the seat, and found himself eye to screen with the Doctor's scroll. Clearly displayed was an image of a woman, a little fuzzy and blurred, but one he recognized immediately. It was the one he had seen Arthur with earlier that day.
"Have you seen her before? My associates are trying to get in touch with her, and she's rumored to have been seen in Vale." The Doctor explained, dragging down the cable that plugged into Sean's eye. The Irishman looked at the image for a moment, and an uneasy feeling settled in his gut. When they had reunited in Vacuo, Arthur and John had both been leery of telling Sean about the woman that had rescued them. Something about some bad people being after her. Sean hadn't begrudged them the secrecy at the time, figuring it weren't none of his business, but now that he saw that same woman on the Doctor's scroll...
Well, it's not Sean McGuire had never told a lie.
"Can't say I have. She's a pretty little bird, though." Sean said after a moment. The Doctor nodded, then shrugged nonchalantly.
"Ah, well. Worth a shot, I suppose. Tell me, have you had any issues with the equipment?" The man plugged Sean into the apparatus, and already he could see lines of code running across the display. It was all Latin to Sean, and he could never tell how to read the software language.
"Nothing of the sort. Your work's mint as always, Doc." The Doctor smirked at the praise.
"Alright then. Just lie back, and I'll install the update. It may take a few minutes." He swiped a few more commands, and Sean's vision grew dark. As the machine went to work inside his head, Sean's consciousness receded, and he fell still with slow and even breaths. The Doctor watched him for a time, his eyes going over the lines of code on his scroll. Once he was certain that Sean wasn't going to wake up, he looked back toward the other door in the room, one hidden behind the curtain.
"You can come in now." The door opened, and two men walked in, closing it behind them as they regarded the Irishman in the chair.
"Is he out?" One of the men asked, stepping forward to examine the cable plugged into Sean's head, rings on his fingers clinking as they made contact with the metal frame.
"Of course, mister Van der Linde. So long as he remains connected to my machines, I have full control over mister McGuire here." Dutch looked up at his name, then back down at the young man that he had once thought dead. Behind him, Isaac Norman, formally Josiah Trelawney, looked upon the scene with some manner of distaste.
"Hard at work with your machines as usual, Watts? Got enough oil and batteries for them all?" His distaste for machinery and technology had never been properly explained, but it certainly led to him butting heads with the disgraced Atlesian scientist.
"No, I'm afraid my creations are above such vulgar requirements. Norman, remember why you came here. The sooner you are gone, the sooner I can get back to my own work." Arthur Watts sneered. While the two servants of Salem bickered, Dutch's eyes remained locked on Sean's face, the Irishman looking all the while like he was resting peacefully.
"Well, get on with it then. I don't see why we must rely on the bloody things anyway." Norman huffed, leaning against the counter to distance himself from the whole affair. As Dutch watched, Watts dragged a larger monitor down from the armature, and began typing in a few commands on the monitor and his scroll simultaneously.
"Dear mister McGuire is under the impression that our meetings are for servicing his prosthetics. A ruse, for nothing I build would ever require such routine maintenance, but a useful ruse nonetheless. While he's been walking around the past year in Vale, his implant has been connecting with the CCT on and off. I've had a thousand little programs in his head, poking and probing their programming so that I could exploit the network's weaknesses." An image of a black chess piece, a queen if Dutch remembered correctly, appeared on the monitor for a moment before more lines of code flowed across it. Too little time had passed for the old bandit to be wise to the many different things on Remnant, and he figured it best to leave the computer wizardry to the man that was proficient with it.
"And why is Sean strapped down in a chair at this moment?" Dutch asked, his hands on his hips as Watts continued to type away. If the doctor was perturbed by Dutch's tone, he didn't show it.
"Because the woman that attacked you on the other side of the Gate and the woman mister McGuire just reacted to are one in the same. I've dealt with him long enough to know he was lying. Not only that, but with a little review of the footage he has been recording, and I will be able to find out more than just where they've been." The day's happening flashed by on the monitor, almost faster than Dutch could keep up with, and all from Sean's perspective. Dutch had known and watched many people, and could decently predict their behavior, but it was another thing entirely to watch through another person's eye like they were. It felt...unnatural, though he knew better than to say so in present company. Unnatural was this group's specialty, as he had found out.
"Ah ha! Looks like the man you're after bought a new scroll this morning." Watts paused the scenery, then tracked it to freeze on a particular frame. In the scene, several people were walking by Sean as he raised a hand, and Arthur Morgan was grinning at him from a small group of people. One of them was the she-devil that had laid open his hand and killed Micah, and the other two were presumed family of some kind. It mattered little at this point; Summer Rose had attacked him, but she had also revealed traitors in his camp. Micah had been handled, but the other...
Arthur had to pay. When Dutch had needed him most, when the gang had needed him, Arthur had turned tail and ran. He'd left some half assed note about TB and then slunk off into the wilderness to die alone like a wounded dog. And when he failed to even do that, he sent this silver eyed witch to haunt him and steal away the rest of the gang entirely. The thought of his wayward son ignited a fire in Dutch's chest, and he couldn't help the hand that trailed to his pistol.
"I checked the purchase records of that store thanks to my connection to the CCT that mister McGuire has helped me build," Watts continued, ignoring Dutch's inner turmoil to gloat on his abilities. "With the proper device ID, I've added mister Morgan's scroll to your map. Anywhere he goes, you will be able to find him." At this moment, Isaac stepped in and placed a hand on Dutch's shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie.
"We appreciate the mumbo jumbo, doctor. And our queen has decreed that mister Morgan be taken alive, yes?" His eyes bore into Dutch's, driving the point home. "Until we know what it is that Arthur was doing with miss Rose, he's more valuable to us alive than dead. That, and I would hate to kill someone that has done me so much kindness."
Thunder crossed Dutch's face, and he shoved Isaac out of the way and walked back out the door they had come through, slamming it behind him in the process. The two in the room that were still conscious watched him go, and Watts looked at his companion wryly.
"And why do we need mister Van der Linde at all, Isaac? You're not one to drag along stray pets." Isaac scoffed and tighten his tie, blatantly ignoring Watts' searching eyes.
"Dutch has skill in manipulation people, though he may need to adjust to Remnant and its intricacies. Once this Arthur business is settled, I can assure you he will be a fine addition to our little alliance. All he needs is the proper guidance." The dimension hopper looked down at Sean, his brow creasing slightly. "What will you do with the young man, now that he's covered for Arthur and the others?"
"Deception was expected, so I can't really fault him for it." Watts keyed in a few more commands, his eyes combing the lines of code for any discrepancies. "As long as he remains in Vale, he's providing me with a window into the CCT. If Cinder's gambit is to come to fruition soon, a back door into Ozpin's computers will prove useful." At the mention of Ozpin, it was Isaac's turn to frown. Watts knew that there was history between Beacon's Headmaster and Salem's favorite vagabond, but Isaac remained tight lipped about it. It was nothing important enough to distract him from his task, but mysteries were meant to be solved.
"Thank you for your help, Doctor. Let me know if there's anything I can do to ease your burdens." With that, Isaac followed his new recruit back out, undoubtedly to the car that had brought them there. Alone with an unconscious Sean, Arthur Watts allowed a devious smile to cross his face. Isaac may have been Salem's favorite, but bringing Dutch into the fold was causing him no small amount of problems. Three of the Van der Linde gang were running rampant around Remnant. One was loose, one served the Queen of the Grimm, and the other was unconscious, firmly under the disgraced scientist's thumb.
"Your friends are rapidly finding more trouble than they can handle, boy." Arthur Watts told his unconscious patient, closing the window and stepping to the side. Though he was done downloading the footage from today and checking on the CCT's latest changes, he made no move to unplug Sean from the machine.
"I'll think I'll keep you here for the night if you don't mind, mister McGuire. Just so that I can...keep an eye on you." A chuckle escaped Watts, and he placed a hand on the light controls near the door. As the lights dimmed, Sean McGuire slept on.
A/N: Short compared to the last chapter, but we've got a lot of different angles going right now. Dutch is after Arthur, Sean is strapped to a table, Qrow is FINALLY in the loop, and Adam is being tempted to the dark side. What will happen next?