Chapter 11: A Meeting.
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Cover art by Ars Goetia Games on Twitter. Their commissions are open, so go ahead check 'em out, or even their games: Hellslave or Blind Prophet.
Talking: "An old cowboy went riding out one dark and windy day."
Thinking: 'Upon a ridge he rested, as he went along his way.'
"What do you mean he's dead!?"-Villager just before the Grimm attack.
Qrow rubs the back of his head. The elevator lets out a ding and he exits, right into Ozpin's office. "Qrow? Why aren't you following the target?" Qrow heard as soon as he entered the room. The dishevelled man doesn't respond, instead he marches over to Ozpin's desk, pulling out the weird chair and takes a seat in it. Letting out a deep sigh as he does.
Upon closer inspection, Ozpin spots a few new scars on Qrow's face. Whatever cuts he suffered already healed, the scars themselves just like the cuts would fade due to Aura. "Any severe injuries?"
Qrow shakes his head with a grunt. "No. Lost the Grimmlander at sea, flock of fucking nevermores decided to fly right into me, had to haul ass back to land so I wouldn't get pecked to death by the damn birds. Tried to fly back where I lost him to see if I can find him." The man shakes his head. A deep frown on his face.
Ozpin gives a huff, a knowing smile on his face. "Well, he'll be back sooner rather then later..." The smile fades and he looks Qrow dead into his eyes. "Qrow, be honest with me. How confident are you in taking the Grimmlander down, alive?"
Qrow shrugs. "I can handle him, If I get the drop on him, it'll be as easy as 1, 2."
"-And if you don't get the drop on him?"
Qrow takes a deep breath in. "It'll be more difficult but I got some tricks up my sleeve and knowing about his Semblance means just keep within melee range and smack him a few times, his low Aura will break sooner rather then later." Qrow leans his seat back. "So, this a capture job, huh?"
Ozpin blinks, lowering his eyes to the table. "...I plan on putting him on the No Wasted Potential Program."
Qrow's wobbles, almost falling backwards. He rebalances himself before he looks at Ozpin with a shocked gaze who looks back with a stoic gaze himself. "What?!"
"He'll be brought in by you on charges of murder, to which we coerce him to enrol in Beacon on the N.W.P-"
"Because that's worked out so well in the past."
Ozpin frowns at Qrow. "It did in your case."
"Didn't for Raven, bitch is still out there with training you gave to her. Train this killer and he'll might end up even worse then her."
"That I vehemently disagree with. You'll have to forgive me, Qrow, but Raven is a monster, a mistake, a person who was too weak to change. She and her tribe have pillaged and plundered dozens, raping and murdering countless. Alex has not even shown anything as revolting as that. He has despite his violent nature, protected innocents. Something Raven and even yourself back in your younger years never performed, so I disagree entirely that the two are even anything alike." Ozpin lips twist as he glares at Qrow. "And honestly, I find myself a bit disappointed that you compare the two in any sense."
Qrow grumbled, his face locked in a deep frown. "There's more similarities then you care to admit, yeah he's not a piece of shit like Raven, not a very high fucking bar to pass by the way, but like Raven, like me, he's different to your usual student. I mean shit, me and Raven already felt out of place but we at least had each other, him? He's got no-one, so he's gonna feel that even worse. You're gonna take someone who's whole life is combat and survival and put him with other kids who don't even understand what it means to go hungry or anything like that."
"Because of that, they'll shun him, 'cause he won't even understand the most basic social things: He won't get jokes about TV shows, celebrities or any other fucking pop media type bullshit. He'll just be that creepy kid covered in blood and that's all he will be, because he is so different to their civilised upbringings, they won't be able to see him as anything else. Even if you somehow do get kids that like him, you're still putting a mirror up to his differences, he'll get to see how fucked he is compared to others. Which at that point, I ask you. How long do you think it takes before it makes him crack? Before he completely loses his shit because you put him amongst his supposed peers." He spat out the final sentence with a sneer.
Ozpin didn't respond to that, mulling over Qrow's words. The old headmaster lets out a huff of air. "You make a good point, however I have no choice but to proceed with him joining the academy."
Qrow shakes his head, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "Why? What grand plan do you have in mind this time?"
"Simple really, Alexander Wyatt is starting to become a legend. The name Grimmlander is becoming a household name, especially out in the villages. Villages that are starting to doubt their association with Vale, villages that view the Grimmlander as a folk hero."
Qrow scoffs, he understood instantly. "You wanna use him as bait to keep the frontier villages with us."
"It wasn't my original idea with him, but I see an opportunity, a risky one, as you have explained but an opportunity nonetheless."
"And when he snaps, you think people will still view him as a hero?"
"You speak like its such a guarantee, like him having a mental breakdown is destined."
"Isn't it?" Qrow lets out a sigh. "Look, I don't want to be right. The kid is-" Qrow gives a shrug, his lips puckered. "-heroic, in some ways. He helps people when he can, protects 'em without a second thought, he's a decent kid despite his background but as bad as it sounds. He's like a rabid dog, you can't fix him. You'll never be able to fix him, he's, through no fault of his own, too far gone. He won't ever be normal. He won't ever be your shiny icon of a Huntsman."
Ozpin shakes his head. The older man's lips in a straight line across. Displeasure clear on his face. "So, what? You believe we should kill him, put him down like a rabid dog as you say?"
"Or maybe just leave him be, stop using him as a fucking tool."
"Well, unfortunately, I still need him. My plan requires him."
"Come up with a new plan then."
Ozpin glares at Qrow. "This is the best one I have, the others… will have worse consequences on all of the Kingdoms."
Qrow lets out a sigh. Rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "I don't want him anywhere near Yang, or Ruby."
"Yang and him will unlikely never even interact, considering he will be a year over her and Ruby will be first year while he would be a third year."
"Or if we even get him…"
Ozpin stares at Qrow, a knowing look on his face as he gazes at the veteran Huntsman across him. "Like I said before, he will return."
Qrow questioned internally how Ozpin was so sure of that.
Two figures stand in a dark alleyway. Both of them had usual clothing you would find in a village with trade routes going through it. Nondescript hoodies in a drab brown colour and casual jeans. Nothing attention grabbing or thought provoking just simple clothing on monsters wearing masks.
"Target is within the building. Room 204."
"Will the demolition charge be enough to kill them?" Asked the other figure, looking over the explosive in his hand before stuffing it within his hoodie.
"I purchased Room 104 already, enter the room, arm the charge and plant it in the left corner of the ceiling, that should be directly under the target's bed." He hands the room key to his partner, the receiver grabs it and stuff it in his pocket.
"Hmmm, how about the A.G?"
"Charges already set on that, linked it with your detonator, same as the one you're planting in your room. You get two for the price of one." One of them said with a dark chuckle.
"Let's go then, burn this fucking zoo to the ground."
"I'll be at the truck, need to go over the plan?"
The other figures scoffs. "A fucking retard could do it, plant the charge, go out the window and hit the treeline, then boom. Ferals get a nasty surprise."
"All right, see you soon." The other figure taps the man on the shoulder before exiting the alleyway, leaving the other man completely alone. The weight of the explosive felt comforting to the man. A comforting weight to it that showed that it was the real thing.
With that he himself leaves the alleyway as well, heading straight for the inn.
He gives a nod and fake smile to other villagers who smile and nod back. The false mask of friendliness fooling all of the simple, easy-going townfolk. A few children even heading home, having stayed up past their bedtimes to play and run around the village for entertainment.
He reaches the inn. He pushes open the door and steps right in. He gives a curt greeting to anyone that looks his way and heads right for room 104.
He enters. The room was rustic, a wooden dresser here, a wooden wardrobe there. Wooden floorboards. A comfy looking bed sat in the corner, away from the window. A simple carpet on top of the floorboards around the bed, to ensure no bare feet would be touching the hard floor.
The man flicks on the lights. He waits a minute or so before flicking it off, heading over to the bed. He takes a seat on the bed and wait again for a few more minutes. The waiting seemed unnecessary, no one had suspected a thing. The whole village welcomed them in, not with arms outstretched, but cordially nonetheless. They receive plenty of traders and individuals going to and from. Strangers were a normal thing to see.
The man stands up, bed under his feet as he pulls out the brick of destruction. He pulls off a protective layer off the back, sticking the explosive to the ceiling. He presses a button and holds it for a few seconds. A single beep responds causing the man to let go.
He smiles at the primed bomb before getting off the bed. He heads over to the window, pulling it open and slipping out, closing it behind him.
With him slipping out the window, he quickly makes his way to the treeline. A few odd stares here and there, but he didn't care. In just a few moments they would have far bigger concerns then him.
He reaches the outskirts of the village. He squeezes the detonator. A second later. A deafening blast echoes throughout the village. There's screams and shouts heard, villagers running to the blasts. He lets out an amused huff and walks off.
He spots his ally by a reinforced truck, a small A.G in the back to allow them to ride off into the night. His companion's arms crossed, he couldn't see it but he could tell there was a smile on his face. His friend gets into the driver's seat while he rides shotgun. The driver turns to him. "Up for the next one or should we let the heat die down a bit?"
He turns and scoffs. "Let's keep it going, burn these zoos to the fucking ground."
The driver gives a nod, offering a fist and the two bump knuckles. The truck roars to life and the two drive off.
Leaving behind a broken town. The event would be etched into the history of it forever, if they survived.
Adam stood on a hill. With binoculars in hand, he scans the coast of Mistrial, looking over the dock. Iron Crown's dock. 'Found you, finally.' Adam thought, his target before him. A festering stronghold of those he despised most of all.
He would have grinned, but instead there was an agitated look on his face. A large ship was crashed into the dock, corpses and bodies strewn about, some killed in such cruel fashion that they undoubtedly died in agony. Adam didn't care, they were humans. In his eyes; their pain was like the pain of cockroaches to him.
Utterly and completely meaningless.
The reality of it was that Adam was more annoyed then anything else. The idea that he was late and someone else already killed Iron Crown frustrated him. Any possible leads so far were on the floor, dead as doorknobs.
With a grunt, he moved over to the dock, passing over rocks and grass. Spotting a well used road, tyre tracks permanently set in the earth. Trucks that most likely take the slaves to the damned fates. Adam lets out a subdued growl but moves on toward the dock, nevertheless.
He stands before it, slicing open the lock with Wilt. He casually strolls in afterwards, the gate easily opening to him.
Adam walked on, bodies and chunks of gore everywhere. Someone had been thorough. Adam could oddly enough smell something sulphuric over the blood. He grimaced, while he smelt far worse, didn't mean he enjoyed the scent of corpses.
He entered one of the buildings, combing through the facility. More bodies and blood. All of them with oddly varying damage, some suffered deep lacerations, revealing bones and organs, others had their had caved in with something blunt. Some even had their necks snapped.
They fought back, at least that's what the shell casings on the floor implied. Didn't do much good for them.
Adam frowns. 'Did one of my kin perform this?' His hand on Wilt's handle. Ready to unsheathe the blade at a moment's notice.
He continues along, the bodies becoming less numerous. Chances are most died outside. These were just the cowards hiding, unwillingly to face whatever was killing them.
Adam could handle whether was here, unlike the rats that scurried about. Perhaps he could even join forces with the one or ones responsible for this, if they were his kin.
He could see that whoever was killing them held hatred for them, that no mercy would be granted to them, but the bodies implicated a sign of skill and training. It was what made him suspect they were White Fang. This couldn't just be some disgruntled villager.
More evidence to that being some of the bodies seem singled out, evidence of torture clear on the isolated bodies. Their bodies cooling in the hallway or separate rooms. He doubted any random villagers or civilian would have the stomach for such grotesque torment, even Huntsmen would struggle with such macabre acts of cruelty.
Adam stopped dead in his tracks, He saw someone. A tall figure ahead of him. A massive futuristic looking sledgehammer in his hands. Blood drips from the head of hammer, a few bits and chunks of brain matter stuck to it. The figure stared at Adam. An unusual spike of fear goes through Adam before he squashes it down.
The Hunter in training points at the figure. His shoulders held high. Wilt was still sheathed, but that could change in a nanosecond if need be. "Identify yourself!"
"A faunus... here for Iron Crown as well?" The figure responded coldly. Adam could see the blood on the towering person. The mask on their face made impossible to make out any features of the face, only the eyes which were locked in an empty gaze, staring right at Adam with dispassionate stare. Their blue eyes were a direct contrast with all the red blood around, especially the stain on the mask. The blood splatter was shaped like a mad grin. A psychotic smile that promised pain and torture, but the eyes were like a void, an empty hole devoid of any light.
Adam snarls, at the unanswered question. "I said, identify yourself or else!" The faunus lowers down, hand on the sheathe, revealing a bit of Wilt to threaten.
"Alexander Wyatt." The Wastelander doesn't even blink at the threat. Something which causes the fear to come back in Adam for a moment. Again squashed quickly.
Adam had never heard of that odd name before. "What is your reasoning for being here?"
Alex just stared at Adam as if the question was the dumbest thing ever heard. After a few moments of awkward silence, he answers. "...To kill Iron Crown."
"Are you associated with White Fang?" Adam could tell this wasn't a White Fang member, none of the standard uniform or even the White Fang emblem. His name would have been easily recognisable if he was White Fang due to how odd it was.
"No. I presume you're White Fang?"
"Correct, you are faunus?"
"I'm not a faunus." The dialogue between the two was robotic and forced. Two anti-social people forced to communicate with each other.
Adam's brow quirks in confusion. "A human…? What does a human who's not part of the cause care about Iron Crown?" Suspicion in his voice.
"I despise slavers." It was simple as for Alex. Words couldn't really describe his hatred for them. Actions however, painted a far easier picture.
Despite the proof of this lying around him, Adam scoffs, nonetheless. "Ah, so you just supposedly hate Iron Crown enslaving faunus? You're a good human?"
"They enslave humans too, but it doesn't mat-"
"-Iron Crown don't enslave their own kind, only faunus." Adam curtly interrupted.
"Iron Crown do enslave humans, I have freed human slaves as well as faunus slaves."
"Lies." Adam growled out. Lowering down even more, ready to engage.
The Wastelander's eyes narrow, tilting his head. "What benefit does lying grant me?"
"-Hey, killer!" A deep voice calls out. "Found another worthless sack of shit." A man in bloody ship captain garbs appears, a hatchet held at a shivering man's hairy neck. "Who's that?"
"White Fang."
Venta scoffs. His blazing eyes takes in Adam, looking over the blade and uniform of the faunus. The bull faunus glares back at the sudden examination of him. "More then that, that's a Hunter."
"Hunter?"
"White Fang version of a Huntsmen."
"-A far superior version of Huntsmen." Adam remarks, disdain clear in his voice.
"Seems like you got a friend, killer." The man taps Alex's side with the blunt end of his hatchet before placing it back at the Iron Crown member's neck. The captain nods at Adam. "You're here for Iron Crown, obviously." He motions his head towards Alex. "Grimmlander here wants the same thing, well, we all want the same thing to be fair." The captain shoves the Iron Crown gangster towards Alex.
The Iron Crown member speaks up with the sudden shove. He barks out. "You f-fuckers are all gonna regret this!" The false confidence was clear to Alex. It instantly melted when the Wastelander grabbed the Iron Crown gangster's shoulder and tossed him to the floor, like a child throwing a toy down.
Adam moves closer, unwillingly to allow a potential last lead to die. The captain watches on in glee. Hatchet resting on his shoulder, the blood dripping onto his back, uncaring of it.
"Where's the Big Rock?" Alex asked, not expecting an answer and he didn't receive one. Instead he just got saliva spat at him. Alex wraps his arm both of the legs tightly, pinning the gangster to the floor. The man lets out shout of pain from the iron grip of the Wastelander.
Alex proceeds to pull off the gangster's boots and socks. "F-Fuck are you doing, freak? Gonna jerk yourself off to my feet?" The man blurts out.
Adam slows down, stopping before the gangster. He looks at Alex. He understood what Alex was about to do, having seen the previous tortured Iron Crown members. "Torture does not give trustworthy intel."
"There's ways to make it workable. Mental torture works best, but physical can work as well if you have enough victims to corroborate the location. Just ensure they are separated to ensure they can't link a fake location."
Alex pulls out his trusty knife. He plants the blade against the sole of the foot, as he begins to carve off the skin from bottom of the feet. Like a peeler against a potato, the skin is slowly sliced off, the man's horrifying screams fills the air, attempting to pull both legs out, one to be free of the blade, the other to try and hit Alex in the face.
There was no escape however, his legs caught in the death grip of the Wastelander. No escape for him, he could only bare it. His screams roll off the walls.
Venta gives a dark grin at the suffering of the Iron Crown, even Adam gives a weak smirk. The screams of the Iron Crown member meant nothing to either of them. The hate they all held distorted the wails of the man on the floor into the cries of a lowly animal.
Alex is finished with one leg and moves onto the other. The man's throat goes hoarse from the screaming.
Eventually Alex stops, the other leg let go, the man on the floor shivers from the agony, but it wasn't over for him. Alex grabs the gangster by his armpits and lifts the gangster, he forces the gangster up. Making him stand on his freshly skinned feet.
The man screeches like a bat, kicking and jumping, trying to get out of Alex's grasp, it doesn't work, instead he's constantly put back onto the soles of his feet, any time he tries to curl his legs, Venta grabs them and straightens the legs out.
It was like some fucked up version of a baby bouncer from hell. Every time the gangster jumped or attempt to twist his feet and land on his ankle to spare him from the agony, Alex and Venta would simply just force him back onto the soles of his feet. Alex continues this for a bit longer before lifting the gangster off the floor, his legs dangling. Blood dribbles from the bottom of the feet, as if his feet were a broken faucet. "Where's the Big Rock?"
The gangster begins to babble, tears streaming down his face. "N-North of here, next to Lake Matsu! South of Merton!"
Alex looked at Venta. "Is Merton south of Argus?" The captain nods at that in response.
"Iron Crown operate closer to Argus, the cowards are afraid of getting closer on White Fang territory." Adam snarls out, he backhands the gangster. "Give me something more, worthless human scum." The gangster cries out. Whatever words the gangster said was ineligible.
"Would you like to answer the question or go back on your feet?" Alex cruelly said.
"Wait!Wait!Wait! Nick Mulberry! Nick Mulberry!" The wretch cried out, his voice squeaky.
Adam slams his hand onto the gangster mouth. "What about him! Is he at the mine!"
The gangster nods desperately. Tears gush down the man's face like a waterfall. Snot drips onto Adam's hand, the Hunter frowns in disgust but doesn't move his hand.
"Shit, Nick Mulberry, huh." Venta rubs his beard. He looks over at Alex. "You get that nasty fuck and Iron Crown will definitely feel it."
"No guarantee he'll be there. You gave a loaded question, he's all too willingly to answer what you want to hear." Alex said looking at Adam, the faunus glares at him in response.
"Didn't realise you were such a professional torturer." Adam barked mockingly.
"More so then you." Alex responded.
Adam snarls at that before taking a calming breath. His glare weakened. "Even if he isn't there… The loss of one of their major mines will do significant damage to them, perhaps even cripple them."
Alex looks at Venta, the captain shrugs. "Hunter ain't wrong. From what I heard back than, Big Rock is apparently one of the major mines, if not THE major mine. Take that out and the fucking pricks will definitely be feeling it." Venta crosses his arms. "And if Nick Mulberry is there and you turn that fuck into a red mist? Shit, that'll hurt them even worse."
Alex hums. He drops the gangster, the man flops to the floor with a yelp. He turns to find a 10mm bullet going through his eye socket. The gangster slumps. Dead. "We should move quickly then. Before they hear of us coming."
Adam grunts, he didn't want to work along with humans but his willing to put aside his feeling for the mission but even still he had to ask. "Tell me, how are we even certain this waste of flesh didn't just give you a random location, oh so wise torturer?" Adam finished with a mocking tone.
"He wasn't the only one that gave me that location, others mentioned south of Merton while some mentioned south of Argus. Only one tried to lie but quickly said the same thing as the others when I pressed her further."
Adam hums at that. Eyeing up Alex for any signs of deceit. Hard to tell with the mask but his stance was as solid as rock, no uncomfortable fidgeting or mindlessly movement, just still, like a statue. The faunus gives a nod with that. "Fine, I will work alongside you, for the time being, human."
"Then as I said before, we should move quickly. The faster we reach this mine, the greater the chance of us taking them unaware." Alex looks at Venta. "Are you ready, or is there something else here?"
Venta gives a short chuckle. "Sorry, killer. This is where you and I break up." Alex tilts his head at that. "Got some friends in Mistral that need dealing with." Venta growled out the word 'friend', making it all too clear what he was really planning. He gives a wry smile however at the end. "You got a Hunter with ya now. Shouldn't need me."
Alex's only response was a nod. Truthfully he didn't really care, the two barely interacted. Just allies in bloodshed nothing more. "You will be fine, without the ship?"
The captain shrugs. "I'll manage, besides it serves a better purpose like it is now. Iron Crown can't use this dock until they clean up all this shite." Venta pounds his fist on Alex's shoulder. "Maybe we'll see each other again, killer. Who knows." The man shrugs, heading off by himself. The two remaining watching as he leaves. With him gone there was a far more awkward atmosphere between Alex and Adam.
The two gaze at each other. Adam watches intently, his eyes looking over Alex. "What is your reason for hating Iron Crown. You're a human." Adam held back from him spitting the word human, but he didn't hold back the doubt and mistrust in his voice.
"As I said, I hate slavers."
Adam scoffs. He speaks with annoyance clear in his voice. "I want more then a mere sentence, I will not travel with you otherwise."
Alex shrugs. "I don't care." He moves on past Adam, the faunus glaring at him. Head on weapon ready to strike if Alex tries anything. He doesn't, he just moves past him, exiting out the building, right into the dock of the dead. He the back of a truck driving away, Venta having commandeered it. He looks over the dock once more, shaking his head at the crashed ship. That spur of the moment decision from the former ship captain was a surprise. Anyone else would have been pissed at the sudden crashing of the ship. Alex didn't really care, honestly he hated that ship. More so then any other.
He moves on, passing by the dozens of corpses. He pulls out his own portable A.G. Attaching it to his hip as he walks out of the gate to start his journey towards his next location. Adam comes rushing along, walking side by side with Alex who hadn't stopped walking. An aggravated look on the bull faunus' face. "You are frustrating." Alex shrugs in response. "Tell me then, what is your reasoning for all this." He waves behind them, towards the dock. To the mounds of bodies.
"I have seen the cruelty of slavery, the trauma it inflicts." Alex's face contorts. The Pitt, Paradise falls and so many other locations flash before his eyes. "I don't care about race. Slavery is something I will always eradicate, no matter what, no matter who. In my eyes there is no excuse for it, no penance for it, no forgiveness for it. Free will is a gift by taking it; Iron Crown and any other slaver deserve all that they get."
Adam's eyes narrow, blocked by his mask. "...Good enough." He said with a neutral tone. His usual mocking sarcasm or toxic disdain was completely absent.
The two walked on in silence.
Towards Big Rock.
End of Chapter 11. Ozpin reveals his plans on how to handle the Grimmlander. Alex and Adam meet. Alex doesn't care about Adam and Adam doesn't like Alex. A match made in heaven, or hell in Iron Crown's opinion.
No Wasted Potential Program: The No Wasted Potential Program or the N.W.P is a program made around rehabilitating rare salvageable criminals with above average combat skills or large amounts of Aura. Individuals at or under the age of 23 will be placed into Huntsmen Academies in their respective years as their age dictates. Those over the age of 23 will instead be trained by a Veteran Huntsman.
For both cases, they will be electronically monitored via ankle monitor. They are also to have mandatory therapy sessions. To check on the mental state and how the rehabilitation is progressing. They are also barred from entering other Kingdoms without permission from the Kingdom that they are owned by. These restrictions remain until they have worked off their sentences through completing Grimm bounties and other Huntsmen work.
Those over the ages of 23 should they meet expectations of their Huntsman tutor will become Huntsmen themselves. Expected to give regular check-ins, have therapy sessions bi-weekly and to perform a certain amount of Grimm bounties. Those that fail to meet this demands are quickly punished and reprimanded, with potentially lengthening their sentences, meaning they would have to perform more Grimm bounties to achieve a pardon and their freedoms back.
Those under the ages of 23 are given more freedom in comparison to the older counter-parts. However, the rules are more stringent. Therapy sessions are weekly, and they cannot earn their freedom from perform Grimm bounties until they become a fully fledged Huntsmen, therefore any practise hunts will not count towards their pardons.
Huntsmen coming from the N.W.P are stigmatised. Viewed as cannon fodder and criminals to the Huntsmen that naturally graduate from academies. Some say this stems from a sense of jealously, as those from the program are generally a cut above most Huntsmen, meaning they can perform far more dangerous bounties other Huntsmen could not manage. Others would argue that the program increases the chances of Huntsmen-level criminals.