A/N: Hello. Sorry for the delay! Unfortunately, I now have a new PC, which comes with about 200 new distractions. Oops. That plus the fact that I didn't have much time last month to actually write anything past the first ten paragraphs.
So, here it is! I know, I know. I said I'd finish this Rubica thing two to three chapters ago, BUT, ideas keep coming in. Sorry not sorry.
Rhomark: Poor Ruby indeed. Y'know, I always wondered why the villains never thought about getting rid of Ruby's silver eyes since it's something that simply DESTROYS the Grimm. Now, I understand that Cinder doesn't know about them at this point in the story, but guess fucking what? I like competent villains okay?! And yes, the situation is not very ideal.
The air inside Morello's office was unnervingly still, broken only by the faint hum of a row of monitors and the steady click of his polished shoe against the floor. He sat behind a heavy oak desk, its surface cluttered with ledgers, schematics, and a stack of faded dossiers. His high-collared shirt remained crisp, his tailored suit impeccable even as frustration flickered in his eyes.
He stared at the primary screen before him, its grainy feed displaying a split view of his facility's lower levels. Cameras captured the labyrinthine corridors, the medical ward, and the recently breached elevator shaft. What drew his attention was the figure moving through the shadows with deliberate purpose, leaving behind a trail of disarmed, or incapacitated, guards.
Morello leaned forward, his brow furrowing. The man's grotesque arm was a thing of nightmares, its writhing tendrils and unnatural form, unlike anything he had ever encountered. The sight of it brought no fear, only a cold calculation. Whatever this intruder was, it wasn't normal. But then again, the world hadn't been normal in a long time.
"Who the hell is this guy?" Morello muttered under his breath, his tone sharp with annoyance. "He isn't part of Team RWBY... That 'Blake' person is a girl, not this... Baldie. A friend of Qrow? Impossible, he doesn't have anyone..." He tapped the desk lightly, the faint sound barely cutting through the low murmur of his subordinates' voices over the intercom.
"Boss, we've lost contact with the guards on B-13," came a nervous voice through the speakers. "The subject, the girl, is still in the operating room, but-"
"Keep her secure," Morello snapped, cutting the man off. "If anyone gets near that room, I want to know before they take another step."
"Yes, sir," the voice replied, shaky but obedient.
Morello exhaled slowly, letting his gaze drift to the monitor that displayed the operating room. Ruby Rose lay still on the table, her pale face illuminated by the harsh surgical lights, the unknown intruder cupped her face with his single normal hand. The sight of the cylindrical container on the ground, glowing faintly with its morbid cargo, brought a grim satisfaction to his face. He didn't care much for the science behind it, but Cindy had been very specific about the condition of the silver eyes.
The price she'd offered for them was exorbitant, more money than Morello would have thought anyone would pay for a pair of eyes, no matter how rare. He didn't know Cindy's true identity, and he didn't care. He didn't need to.
He turned his attention to another screen, this one displaying Weiss Schnee. Qrow had her, it seemed. Did Raven come around and help? Or did Qrow know of this location? The Schnee heiress was a bonus, a stroke of luck from the night's events. Whether it was her father or the White Fang who eventually paid up, Morello knew she would fetch a hefty price.
That meant she wasn't priority one. Qrow was past his prime anyway, and even then he wouldn't put up much of a fight. He was an opponent he could beat whenever at his leisure.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Two prizes, each valuable in their own right, delivered into his hands with minimal effort. If not for the sudden appearance of this bizarre intruder and Qrow, the night would have been perfect.
"Boss." Another voice crackled through the intercom, breaking his thoughts. "We've got a situation."
"I'm aware," Morello said curtly, his eyes fixed on the figure moving on the monitor. The man was fast, methodical, and clearly experienced. The way he dismantled Morello's guards without hesitation was a testament to his skill, not just brute strength.
"He's heading toward B-13," the voice continued. "We think he's after the girl."
Morello's jaw tightened. "Think? He's already there, idiot. Lock down every corridor out of that wing."
"Yes, sir."
Leaning back in his chair, Morello steepled his fingers, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the intruder's movements on the camera's record. Despite the grotesque arm, the man's combat technique was disciplined, almost clinical. He wasn't a reckless thug or a desperate vigilante.
Morello didn't like unknowns. They were messy, unpredictable, and disruptive to the careful order he cultivated. And yet, something about this man, a huntsman, undoubtedly, nagged at him. The arm was more than a... thing. It was something unnatural, a mockery of the very nature of humanity itself.
But that wasn't Morello's concern. He wasn't a scientist, nor did he dabble in the esoteric realms of Grimm research. His focus was business, and business demanded clarity. He would handle this intruder, just as he'd handled countless others before.
Morello stood, adjusting the cuffs of his suit as he moved toward the weapons rack along the far wall. Among the neatly displayed tools of his trade hung his huntsman weapon, a sleek halberd with a collapsible form. It gleamed faintly under the office lights. He wasn't nostalgic about his days as a huntsman, but the skills he honed back then remained as sharp as ever.
"Have the remaining mercenaries converge on B-13," Morello ordered, his voice calm but firm. "If he's as dangerous as he looks, they'll keep him there. I'll handle him myself once he's cornered. Just don't hurt Ruby."
The intercom crackled again. "And the girl, sir? What if he gets her out?"
Morello's expression darkened. "He won't."
The room fell silent as Morello lifted the halberd, its weight familiar in his hands. He turned back to the monitors, watching as the intruder glared at the doctors. The thought of losing Cindy's prize, of letting this nameless man disrupt his carefully orchestrated plans, sent a flicker of irritation through him.
"Whoever you are," Morello muttered, his voice low and dangerous, "you just made the biggest mistake of your life."
The sterile air of the operating room was thick with tension, suffused with the metallic tang of blood. Francisco stood over the prone figure of Ruby Rose, his breath coming in sharp, heavy bursts as his fleshy arm twitched erratically, its tendrils coiling and uncoiling. His eyes lingered on her pale face, framed by the harsh glow of the surgical lights. His fist tightened, and his voice came out low and raw.
"Fix her," he growled, his words dripping with barely contained fury.
The doctors stood frozen, their faces pale and slick with sweat. One clutched his bleeding stump where Francisco's blade had severed his arm moments ago. The crude bandaging he had hastily applied to his wound was already soaking through, his teeth gritted against the pain. The other two pressed themselves against the far wall, their hands raised in desperate supplication.
"We can't," one of them stammered, his voice trembling. "It-it's impossible to-"
Francisco turned to face the man, his left arm snapping upward, its sinewy tendrils spreading wide. The embedded eyes twitched in unison, locking onto the doctor with an intensity that made the man visibly flinch.
"I didn't ask what's impossible," Francisco said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying enough venom to make the doctor's knees buckle. "I said fix her."
Another doctor, a woman with trembling hands, tried to step forward. Her voice wavered as she spoke, her eyes darting nervously between Francisco and Ruby. "It's not that simple! The extraction process, once the optic nerve is severed, there's no-"
The grotesque arm lashed out with a sickening crack, slamming into the metal cart beside her and sending it skittering across the floor. Instruments clattered noisily to the ground. The woman shrieked and fell back, clutching at the wall for support.
"I don't care about your damn excuses!" Francisco roared, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. He advanced on the doctors, his right hand curling into a white-knuckled fist. "Undo it! You took her eye. Put it back!"
The doctor with the severed arm crumpled to his knees, his head bowing in despair. "We can't," he rasped, his voice thick with pain. "It doesn't work like that. Once they're removed… they're gone."
Francisco's entire body tensed. The fleshy arm seemed to pulse in time with his rising anger, the tendrils tightening and flexing as if eager to rend flesh. His jaw worked silently for a moment, his breath coming in ragged bursts. The air around him seemed to thrum with barely contained violence.
"Don't lie to me," Francisco hissed, his voice low and guttural. He reached down, gripping the collar of the doctor's coat and hauling him up with effortless strength. "You did this. You can undo it."
The doctor's eyes were wide with terror, his good hand clawing weakly at Francisco's grip. "It's not a matter of will! We don't have the capability to restore eyes once they're extracted, no one does! Please, you have to understand, we were just-"
"Shut up." Francisco's words were icy, his hand trembling with the effort of holding back. He released the doctor, letting him crumple to the floor in a heap.
The sight of Ruby's hollowed socket made his chest tighten, a knot of helpless rage and guilt coiling in his gut. He turned back to the cowering doctors, his voice cracking with frustration.
"If you can't fix it," he snarled, "then tell me who can."
The woman hesitated, her lips trembling as she tried to form words. "I-I don't know… But the one who commissioned the procedure might. She-she goes by Cindy. She contacted us through Morello. She's the one who-"
"Cindy," Francisco repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a curse. "Didn't I hear Torchwick say that name?" He rose to his full height, his grotesque arm twitching violently as he stepped toward the woman. "And where is she?"
"I-I don't know!" the woman cried, shrinking back against the wall. "She's not part of the facility! We only deal with Morello!"
Francisco's eyes narrowed. He stood there for a moment, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the doctors. His arm twitched again, the embedded eyes darting wildly as if impatient for violence.
The operating room fell into a heavy silence as Francisco stood motionless by Ruby's side, his normal hand resting gently on her forehead.
The doctors, huddled against the walls, exchanged terrified glances, their shallow breaths barely audible over the steady beep of the monitors.
Francisco's chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths, his head tilting slightly as if he were contemplating their words. His eyes flicked to Ruby's empty eye socket, the faint trickle of blood staining her pale cheek.
"You did this to her," Francisco said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You tore her apart for someone else's greed."
The female doctor stepped forward, trembling, her hands raised in a pleading gesture. "We-we didn't have a choice! Morello! He ordered us to-"
"I don't care about Morello," Francisco snapped, his voice cutting through hers like a blade. He stepped forward, his grotesque arm surging outward with terrifying speed. The tendrils wrapped around her neck in an instant, lifting her off the ground as she gasped and clawed at the unnatural appendage.
"You think I care why you did it?" Francisco growled, his voice low and seething with rage. "You think that's going to help you?"
The arm twisted violently, and the sickening crack of bone echoed through the sterile room as the woman's body went limp. Francisco tossed her lifeless form aside like a rag doll, his breathing heavy as he turned to the remaining two doctors.
"P-please," stammered the doctor with the severed arm, his eyes wide with terror. "We-we were just following orders!"
Francisco's lips curled into a snarl, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. "Well, ain't that fucking poetic." His voice was calm, almost chillingly so, as he reached the man and placed a heavy foot against his chest, pinning him to the ground. "You don't get to walk away from what you've done."
The man's protests dissolved into a choked scream as Francisco's arm lashed out again, piercing through the man's torso with a sickening squelch. The embedded eyes blinked rapidly in ecstasy, before retracting with a wet sound that made the remaining doctor gag.
Francisco turned to the last doctor, the man frozen in place, his back pressed against the wall. His face was ashen, his hands trembling violently as he stared at the monstrosity before him.
"Please… please…" the doctor whispered, his voice cracking. "I-I have a family-"
"Good for you," Francisco interrupted, jerking his head toward Ruby. His steps were measured as he closed the distance between them. The doctor's breath hitched as Francisco raised his grotesque arm.
"Too bad for them." Francisco said softly, almost regretfully. The arm surged forward, and the doctor's scream was cut short as the appendage impaled him against the wall, his body convulsing briefly before going limp.
The room fell into an eerie silence, the only sounds were the faint dripping of blood and the persistent beeping of Ruby's monitors. Francisco stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as the grotesque arm twitched erratically, the embedded eyes flicking across the room as though searching for more prey.
His gaze returned to Ruby, his expression softening as he knelt by her side once more. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his voice barely audible.
"I will fix you up... I promise." He murmured.
The arm twitched once, almost impatiently, but Francisco ignored it. Rising to his feet, he turned toward the door, his jaw set with grim determination. There was still one more person who needed to pay.
"Morello," he muttered, his voice low and cold. "Where is he?"
Francisco turned to the door, Ruby's unconscious form cradled over his shoulder. Her frame felt smaller, lighter than it should have. The cylindrical container holding her stolen eye sat snugly in his pocket.
His fleshy arm twitched erratically, the embedded eyes darting in all directions as though sensing the danger awaiting him. Francisco didn't care. His focus was on the girl on his back, her shallow breaths brushing against his neck.
"Now I'm conflicted." He muttered under his breath, "I want to get Morello, but I don't wanna get you in danger..."
The door looms before him, he pushes it open with his grotesque arm, it coils like a serpent around the doorknob, however, his normal arm has to hold Ruby over his shoulder, meaning that he can't use Downpour.
The scene outside was about what he expected.
Morello's men stood in a semicircle, their weapons drawn but not yet raised. Their faces betrayed no fear, only a cold professionalism that spoke of years in the business. These weren't the panicked medics he'd just left behind. These are mercenaries who knew exactly what they were doing.
Francisco's sharp gaze swept across the group, counting seven in total. Rifles and batons gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, but none of them moved immediately.
They are waiting, sizing him up.
"Easy," one of them said, stepping forward with his hands raised in a placating gesture. He was tall, with a scar cutting across his chin, and he spoke with a practiced calm that made Francisco's gut churn. "Let's not do anything stupid, alright? You're carrying cargo we can't let you walk out with."
Francisco didn't respond. His grotesque arm twitched violently, and the man's eyes flicked toward it, with sliver of unease.
"You're in no position to fight us," the man continued, taking a cautious step closer. "You're outnumbered, and you've got someone to protect. That makes you vulnerable. So, let's talk."
Francisco's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking briefly to Ruby's still form. His mind raced, weighing his options. He couldn't afford a fight, not with Ruby so exposed. Every instinct screamed at him to lash out, to tear through the men like he had the doctors, but one stray bullet, one missed move…
He took a deep breath, his voice coming out low and dangerous. "Talk fast."
The man smirked faintly, taking another step closer. "Hand over the girl. She's valuable, but not to you. We've got orders to secure her, and if you cooperate, we'll let you walk away."
Francisco laughed, a bitter, humorless sound that echoed through the corridor. "You think I care about your orders? About what your boss wants?"
"You should," the man replied, his tone sharpening. "Morello doesn't tolerate loose ends. You walk away now, and maybe you get to live. Fight us, and you won't make it to the next corridor."
Francisco shifted his stance slightly, adjusting Ruby's weight on his shoulder. The arm twitched again, its tendrils coiling. He fixed the man with a glare so cold it could freeze fire.
"You think I'm scared of you?" he asked, his voice quiet but laced with venom. "I just tore through your facility, took out your men, and left your doctors in pieces. If you think I'm handing her over, you're dumber than you look."
The man's smirk faltered, his eyes flicking to the others. The tension in the corridor thickened, every muscle in the group visibly tensing.
"Look, pal," another voice piped up from the back, a wiry man with a shotgun resting casually over his shoulder. "We're giving you a chance here. Morello doesn't hand out second chances. You walk away, we pretend we didn't see you. That's more than fair."
Francisco exhaled slowly, his gaze sweeping the group again. His grotesque arm twitched, the embedded eyes darting toward each weapon in turn, as though assessing the threat.
Ruby stirred faintly on his back, a soft murmur escaping her lips. The sound was barely audible, but it was enough. Francisco's jaw tightened, his decision made.
"You're right," he said, his voice low. "I can't fight you like this."
The man with the scar relaxed slightly, his grip on his rifle loosening. "Smart choice. Now-"
Francisco moved.
Before the man could finish his sentence, Francisco's arm lashed out, its tendrils coiling around the barrel of his rifle and wrenching it from his hands with terrifying speed.
The weapon clattered to the floor as Francisco pivoted, his normal hand grabbing the nearest soldier by the collar and slamming him into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.
The crack of a rifle being raised reached his ears, and he pivoted sharply, his body twisting to shield Ruby with his back.
"Hold your fire!" the scarred leader barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "We can't risk hitting the girl!"
Francisco froze, his sharp gaze snapping to the leader. The words echoed in his mind, their implications settling into place.
They don't want her dead.
They need her alive.
The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was enough.
His grotesque arm lashed out, coiling around the rifle of another mercenary and yanking it free before tossing it down the corridor. The mercenary stumbled back, his hand flying to his belt for another weapon, but Francisco didn't give him the chance.
With a single, fluid motion, Francisco turned, pressing his normal hand against Ruby's back to hold her securely while raising his left arm defensively. "You don't want her hurt," he growled, his voice low and venomous. "Then back the hell off."
The mercenaries hesitated, their weapons half-raised as they exchanged uncertain glances. The scarred leader held up a hand, his expression twisting into a grimace. "You're making a mistake," he said, his tone measured but laced with frustration. "We can end this without bloodshed. Just hand her over."
Francisco scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You think I trust you? You think I care about ending this clean? You brought this on yourselves."
He took a slow step back, then another, using his grotesque arm to block any clear shot at Ruby. The embedded eyes blinked erratically, darting from one mercenary to the next as if daring them to move.
"Stand down!" the leader barked, his frustration growing. He turned to his men, gesturing sharply for them to lower their weapons. "Nobody fires until I say so!"
Francisco's chest heaved as he took another step, his grip on Ruby tightening. 'This isn't right. She's not a shield.' The thought clawed at the edges of his mind, but he shoved it down. She's alive. That's all that matters right now.
"I don't want to hurt her!" the leader said, his voice rising as Francisco continued his retreat. "But you're running out of options, friend. You won't make it far carrying her like that."
"Watch me," Francisco spat, his voice dripping with defiance.
The scarred man's lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers twitching at his side. "You think you can take us all on? With her slowing you down?"
Francisco's jaw tightened. He could feel the weight of Ruby's limp form pressing against him, her breath warm and steady against his neck. No, I can't take them all. Not like this. Not with her. But he wasn't about to let them see that.
"I don't need to take you all," he said, his voice cold. "Just the first idiot who tries."
The leader's eyes narrowed, his patience clearly wearing thin. "You're desperate," he said, his tone softening slightly. "You're scared. I get it. But if you keep pushing us, you're going to force my hand."
Francisco's laugh was harsh, bitter. "Your hand? You think you're the one with the cards here?" He shifted slightly, angling his fleshy arm so its tendrils flicked menacingly toward the nearest mercenary. "The second you shoot, she gets caught in the crossfire. You want to explain that to your boss?"
The tension in the corridor was suffocating. The mercenaries stood frozen, their weapons half-raised as they awaited orders. Francisco's eyes darted between them, his mind racing.
'This isn't sustainable. I can't keep this up forever.'
Ruby stirred faintly on his back, a soft murmur escaping her lips. The sound sent a pang of guilt slicing through him. He hated this. Hated using her like this. But he couldn't stop. Not yet.
"I'm walking out of here," he said, his voice steady but cold. "You try to stop me, and you're the ones who'll have to explain to Morello why she's not intact."
The leader's jaw tightened, his eyes burning with anger. But he didn't give the order to fire. Francisco took another step back, the hallway stretching endlessly behind him.
"Don't test me," Francisco said, his voice a low growl.
The scarred leader didn't reply, his fingers twitching at his side. Francisco took one last look at the men before him, the tension in the room threatening to snap like a taut wire. Then, he turned and walked away, Ruby's unconscious form bouncing slightly with each step.
Behind him, the silence lingered, heavy and suffocating.
But no one fired. Not yet.
Francisco moved through the clean corridors, Ruby's unconscious form shifting gently on his back with every step. The eyes on his cheek darted wildly, scanning every shadow and corner. Francisco's face was a mask of calm, but his mind churned with frustration.
Behind him, the soft shuffle of boots echoed down the hallway.
The mercenaries weren't far. They weren't subtle either, their deliberate footsteps betraying their intention to stay close without engaging. Francisco exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on Ruby.
'They're waiting me out. Fine. Let them.'
The leader's voice carried clearly over the ambient hum of the facility. "Keep your distance," he ordered, his tone calm but firm. "We're not engaging until I say so. Eyes on him at all times."
"Boss, he's heading toward the main wing," one of the mercenaries muttered, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "If we don't stop him-"
"I said, hold," the leader snapped. "I don't want needless death here, not after what he did in the operating room. Let him think he's got the upper hand."
Francisco's jaw tightened. Every word grated against his nerves, but he kept his pace measured, steady. Ruby's fragile weight against his shoulder was a reminder of his priorities. He couldn't risk a fight, not now. Not with her in this state.
"You're really planning to wait until Morello gets here?" another mercenary asked, his tone skeptical. "What if this guy slips past us? Or worse, bolts the second he sees Morello?"
The leader sighed audibly. "We stick to the plan. Follow him, keep him cornered. If he tries to double back, we intercept. If he keeps moving, Morello will cut him off. This isn't complicated. Besides, If Morello says it's okay to hurt the girl, then we'll just blast him."
Francisco's sharp ears caught every word, the tension in his chest tightening like a vice. He knew their leader was right. If Morello got involved, this would spiral out of control.
He needed to get to Qrow. Now.
One of the mercenaries snorted. "And what if he decides to throw that creepy-ass arm of his at us again? You saw what it did to Doc's rifle. That thing's not normal."
"Neither is he," the leader said flatly. "But he's not invincible. He's protecting the girl. That's his weakness."
Francisco's fleshy limb twitched violently, reacting to the insult. Francisco clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving.
'Don't stop. Don't rise to it. Keep her safe.'
The corridor stretched endlessly before him, its oppressive silence broken only by the mercenaries' footsteps and their hushed arguments.
"You're putting too much faith in Morello," one of them muttered. "What's he gonna do that we can't? This guy tore through our people like paper."
"He's a huntsman," the leader said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. "Unlike the rest of us, Morello can actually take him on. And he knows how to handle situations like this."
"Yeah? Well, Morello ain't here yet," the wiry one with the shotgun grumbled. "And if he's as good as you say, why does he need us following this freak?"
Francisco smirked faintly, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. The mercenaries' uncertainty was almost amusing if it weren't so dangerous.
"Enough," the leader snapped, his patience wearing thin. "He's listening to every word you idiots are saying. Stop giving him ideas."
The corridor branched ahead, and Francisco hesitated for the briefest of moments, scanning his options. Left, or right? Both paths stretched into the unknown, their dim lighting offering no hints as to which might lead to safety.
Behind him, the mercenaries slowed, their boots scuffing faintly against the floor.
"He's stalling," one of them muttered.
"Or he's lost," another said. "This place is a damn maze."
Francisco suppressed a growl, choosing the left path and quickening his pace. Ruby's slight murmur against his shoulder made his heart tighten, guilt gnawing at him as he imagined how much worse this could get.
"Still no sign of Morello," one of the mercenaries whispered, frustration creeping into his voice.
"Doesn't matter," the leader replied, his voice calm and measured once more. "He can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, he's going to make a mistake."
Francisco's lips pressed into a thin line. Every word they spoke only reinforced what he already knew, they were banking on him falling into a corridor with no exit, on the impossible weight of carrying Ruby to safety.
But they didn't know him. They didn't know the sheer, stubborn determination that drove him. Francisco continued down the dimly lit corridor.
He could still hear the muffled voices of the mercenaries and the occasional barked order from their leader. It was almost comical how patient they were, like hyenas circling a lion, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Ahead, the corridor opened into a small chamber. Two elevators stood side by side, their brushed steel doors gleaming under the harsh fluorescents. Francisco stopped, adjusting Ruby's weight on his shoulder as he turned his head slightly, speaking loudly enough for his pursuers to hear.
"Alright," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "What the hell are we doing here?"
The footsteps behind him faltered, the mercenaries clearly caught off guard by the unexpected question.
Francisco turned slowly, his grotesque arm curling slightly at his side like an oversized claw. His sharp eyes scanned the group, lingering on their leader.
"This cat-and-mouse thing?" Francisco continued his tone dry and tinged with sarcasm. "It's stupid. You're following me. I know you're following me. You know I know you're following me. So, what's the plan here, huh?"
The scarred leader stepped forward, his expression as unreadable as ever. "We're waiting for Morello," he said simply, his tone calm but firm. "You're just making it harder on yourself."
Francisco laughed, the sound echoing off the steel walls. "Harder on myself? I'm carrying an unconscious child, and I've still got the upper hand. You're all standing there like scared kids, hoping Daddy Morello shows up to fix this mess for you."
The leader's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. Behind him, the other mercenaries exchanged uncertain glances, their confidence clearly wavering.
Francisco gestured toward the elevators with his free hand. "Tell you what. I'm going to call down both of these elevators. We can split up. I'll take one, and you can take the other. I'll go to the top floor. Go ahead and tell Morello exactly where I'm going. Let's see if he's as big and bad as you all seem to think."
The leader frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied Francisco. "You're not serious."
"Oh, I'm dead serious," Francisco replied, his tone laced with mockery. "Because, honestly? I'm tired. You're tired. She-" he nodded toward Ruby, "-needs to get the hell out of here. And this little dance we're doing? It's not working for anyone. Morello won't find us if we keep running in this maze, and I won't ever get out."
The leader hesitated, his gaze flicking to the elevators, then back to Francisco. "You think you're walking out of here alive?"
"I'm alive now, aren't I?" Francisco shot back, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "And I'm giving you a golden opportunity to avoid ending up like those doctors back there. You saw what I did to them. You want to test me?"
The room fell silent.
Francisco turned back to the elevators, pressing the call buttons for both with his grotesque arm.
"Your move," Francisco said over his shoulder, his voice cold and steady. "Tell Morello whatever you want. But don't think for a second I'm giving her up."
Francisco remained perfectly still, his sharp gaze fixed on the mercenaries as he waited for their response as the faint hum of the elevators descending filled the air.
The mercenaries exchanged glances, a ripple of disbelief running through the group as Francisco leaned casually against the elevator frame, waiting for a response.
"He's gotta be kidding," one of them muttered, a wiry man with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. His tone was a mixture of confusion and irritation. "Who the hell just calls down two elevators in a situation like this? It's a trap."
"Yeah, or he's lost his damn mind," another chimed in, a stocky figure gripping a baton. "What, does he think we're just gonna play along?"
"I mean… maybe we should," said a younger mercenary near the back, his voice hesitant. He shifted his weight nervously, his grip on his weapon tightening. "It's not like we're making any progress tailing him like this. And if we try to fight him," His gaze flicked to Francisco's fleshy arm, shivering slightly. "You saw what he did to the docs."
"Shut up, rookie," the wiry man snapped, rolling his eyes. "You don't negotiate with psychos. You shoot 'em and move on."
"Well, then why haven't you shot him yet?" the younger mercenary shot back, his voice tinged with defiance. "Oh, right, because he's got the girl, and you're scared of what Morello would do if you screw this up."
"Enough," the scarred leader barked, cutting through their bickering. His sharp tone silenced the group instantly, their gazes snapping to him as he stepped forward, his rifle resting loosely in his hands. His eyes locked on Francisco, scrutinizing him with the intensity of a man trying to solve a puzzle.
Francisco smirked faintly, tilting his head as if to say, Take your time.
"This is stupid," the wiry man insisted, breaking the silence again. "Boss, come on. He's screwing with us. What's stopping him from, I don't know, rigging one of those elevators to blow?"
The leader didn't look at him, his sharp gaze still pinned on Francisco. "If he wanted to kill us, he could've done it by now. Or at least tried." His lips pressed into a thin line. "No, this is something else. A distraction. A delay. Something."
"Or maybe I just want to see who gets there first," Francisco offered dryly, his voice laced with mockery. "You guys are so paranoid. It's almost flattering."
Another mercenary groaned, rubbing his temples. "This is the dumbest thing I've ever seen. We're seriously gonna humor this guy? Just walk into an elevator and wave goodbye while he takes the other one? What if he's stalling for backup?"
"Backup?" the leader finally spoke, his voice low and steady. He gestured toward Francisco with a sharp tilt of his head. "Does this guy look like he has backup to you? Look at him. He's running on fumes, carrying a girl, with no way out but the elevators. This isn't a trap. It's desperation."
Francisco's smirk widened slightly, though he said nothing, letting the leader's words hang in the air.
"So, what's the plan then?" the shotgun-wielding mercenary asked, crossing his arms. "We split up, we take one of the elevators, he takes the other, and hope for the best? And what happens when he gets to the top and Morello's not there yet?"
The leader exhaled slowly, his expression hardening as he made his decision. "We stick to the plan. Call Morello, tell him where we're going, and make sure at least one of us keeps eyes on him the whole way."
He stepped toward the nearest elevator, his boots clicking against the polished floor. Turning to face his team, he gestured toward the other one. "Everyone, to the second elevator. I'll go with baldie over there. Keep your weapons ready, but don't engage unless I give the signal."
The wiry man frowned, clearly displeased. "Boss, I really think-"
"You're not here to think," the leader snapped, his voice razor-sharp. "You're here to follow orders. Now move."
Francisco stood by the elevator door, three cheek eyes blinked once each, scanning the mercenary leader who moved toward him. Francisco tilted his head slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"You're really coming with me?" Francisco asked, his tone laced with mild incredulity. "What, you think you can babysit me all the way to the top floor?"
The leader smirked faintly, his confidence a sharp contrast to the unease rippling through his team. "Somebody's gotta make sure you're telling the truth," he replied, his voice steady as he stepped into the elevator. He turned to his men, his sharp gaze cutting through their growing murmurs of doubt. "Besides, if this guy tries anything stupid, you've all got a clear line of fire."
One of the mercenaries, the wiry man, took a hesitant step forward. "Boss, are you serious? You're gonna trap yourself in a box with that... thing? What if he snaps? You saw what he did in the operating room!"
The leader shot him a glare, his tone turning cold. "That's exactly why I'm going with him. If he pulls something, I'll be the first to know. And if I don't make it out, you know what to do."
His words hung heavy in the air, the unspoken implication sending a ripple of discomfort through the group. Another mercenary, a stocky man gripping a baton tightly, shook his head. "But if you're gone, who's gonna call the shots? You can't leave us like that, boss. We're not trained for,"
"You don't need training to follow orders," the leader snapped, cutting him off. His gaze swept over his team, his expression hard as steel. "You stay here. Watch the second elevator. The moment this one moves, call Morello and tell him where we're going. If something happens to me, you make damn sure this guy and the girl don't make it past you. Understood?"
The team exchanged uneasy glances, their confidence visibly shaken. The wiry man muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with frustration. "This is suicide. He's a freakin' monster. And you're just walking in there like he won't tear you apart the second the doors close."
The leader sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before fixing the wiry man with a sharp glare. "If you think I don't know the risks, you're an idiot. But sitting out here, doing nothing, isn't going to get us any closer to finishing this. I'm going to make sure this elevator goes where it's supposed to."
A tense silence followed. Finally, the younger mercenary, the rookie, spoke up, his voice shaky but earnest. "Boss... just be careful, alright?"
The leader's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "What are you, my mom? I'll be fine. Just stick to the plan."
Francisco, who had been leaning casually against the elevator frame, watched the exchange with faint amusement. "Touching," he said dryly. "You sure you don't want to hold a team huddle before we go?"
The leader ignored him, stepping fully into the elevator and pressing the button for the top floor. He glanced back at his team one last time, his gaze sharp and commanding. "You know your roles. Don't screw this up."
The wiry man hesitated, his fingers tightening around his shotgun. "We won't," he said finally, though his voice lacked the usual bravado.
The elevator doors slid shut with a soft hum, sealing Francisco and the leader inside. For a moment, the only sound was the faint whir of the elevator ascending.
Francisco turned to the leader, his smirk fading into a more neutral expression. "Gotta say, I didn't expect you to have the guts to walk in here alone. You've got either a death wish or a lot of faith in your people out there."
The leader crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "Faith? No. But I do know they'll do their jobs. And if you try anything," his eyes flicked to Ruby on Francisco's shoulder before locking onto Francisco's face, "they'll light you up, girl or no girl. Mission be damned."
Francisco snorted softly, shaking his head. "You people and your missions. You talk about her like she's cargo, not a person. No wonder you're all willing to die for Morello's paycheck."
The leader didn't rise to the bait, his gaze steady as the elevator continued its climb. "You wouldn't understand," he said simply. "People like us? We don't have the luxury of making it personal. You do the job, or you die trying. It's that simple."
Francisco studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he said finally. "But hey, I'll give you this much, you've got guts."
The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, the silence between Francisco and the leader heavy with unspoken tension. Francisco leaned slightly against the elevator wall, Ruby's unconscious form still draped securely over his shoulder.
The leader stood rigid, his rifle slung loosely at his side, his sharp gaze fixed forward. His posture betrayed none of the unease he might have felt, though the occasional flicker of his eyes toward Francisco suggested he wasn't completely at ease.
Francisco broke the silence first, his tone uncharacteristically casual. "You know, you're pretty good at this."
The leader didn't respond, his focus unwavering.
"I'm serious," Francisco continued, turning slightly to face him. "You've got guts, discipline, and your people actually listen to you. Ever think about becoming a Huntsman?"
The leader snorted softly, shaking his head. "Not my thing."
"Not your thing?" Francisco raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Come on, you've got the makings of a great leader. Most of those idiots out there look ready to bolt, but they still do what you say. That's something."
The leader finally turned to look at Francisco, his expression unreadable. "I don't have Aura unlocked, neither do them. I prefer to keep it that way."
Francisco blinked, mildly surprised. "What, seriously? A guy like you? Why not?"
The leader's jaw tightened slightly, and for a moment, he seemed reluctant to answer. Then he exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "People with Aura unlocked are more emotional. It's part of the tradeoff. You feel things more strongly, and that makes you a bigger target for Grimm. They're drawn to strong emotions like moths to a flame."
Francisco tilted his head, considering this. "So, what, you're afraid of the Grimm?"
The leader's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yeah. I am. Call me a coward if you want, but I've seen what they can do. Whole towns wiped off the map because some guy with Aura couldn't keep their emotions in check and was followed by a pack of Grimm back home. I'm not about to become a walking beacon for those things."
Francisco studied him for a long moment, his grotesque arm twitching slightly at his side. "Huh," he said finally. "That's... actually pretty smart. Paranoid, maybe, but smart."
The leader shrugged. "It works. And it keeps my team alive. That's all that matters."
There was a pause, the faint hum of the elevator filling the silence. Then Francisco spoke again, his tone softer. "What's your name, anyway?"
The leader glanced at him, his expression briefly wary before he answered. "Call me Vance."
"Vance," Francisco repeated, rolling the name over in his mind. "Alright, Vance. Listen, I don't know how this whole mess is gonna play out. But if we both make it out of here alive," he gestured vaguely with his normal hand, careful not to disturb Ruby's position on his shoulder. "I'll buy you a drink. Hell, maybe even two. You've earned it."
Vance raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "A drink, huh? You think we're gonna be buddies after this?"
Francisco chuckled, a low, rough sound that echoed in the small space. "Not buddies. But you've got guts, and I can respect that. Doesn't mean I won't smash your head in if you try anything, but respect's respect."
Vance shook his head, his smirk fading as his expression turned serious. "We'll see if there's anything left to drink about when this is over."
Francisco shrugged, his gaze flicking to the glowing numbers above the elevator doors as they approached their destination. "Fair enough. But hey, if you don't die, and I don't die, I'm holding you to that drink."
Vance said nothing, his sharp eyes shifting briefly to Ruby before returning to the doors. The faint ding of the elevator signaled their arrival, and the tension in the air thickened as the doors began to slide open.
"Here we go," Francisco muttered, his voice low. "Top floor. Let's see who's waiting for us."