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Chapter Text

A blissful calm settled over the mountains east of Vale; no Grimm were seen, no gunshots heard, only the distant sound of a train making its way through the wilderness. Such calm was a rarity here due to the constant struggle against the Grimm, a war that felt so far away from within the city's great walls.  

Birds flew through the air, animals walked freely, and bombs were planted on train tracks. 

Peace couldn’t last forever, after all. 

A peace that was soon to be disturbed by more than one atrocity: one of fire and death, the other, a perversion of reality. 

A distance away, deep within a mountain crag, reality shuddered, as it was pierced by a pale blue light.  

There, sitting among the dust covered rocks, was a hole in the world. 

For a while, it simply shimmered, disturbing little more than dust as the world calmed around it. 

But as before, the calm couldn’t last; as a great bronze armored boot slammed into the ground. 

It was as though reality itself had screamed in horror. A perversion so great that its claws tore deep into the land. 

The birds stopped flying. 

The animals hid in their burrows. 

A conductor shouted a warning. 

For a brief second, the world forgot itself. 

Reality stretched and distorted, time rending into an eternity, yet a bare second passed by.  

As the world froze, the figure appeared in full. 

It was dawned in a titanic set of bronze armor, a dark green greatcoat shrouding its being. Chains wrapped around the being's body, ornaments and sigils hanging off the links. Within its hands was a hammer of unknowable design, the otherworldly crystal at its center sparking with power. 

The figure gazed across the crags that surrounded it as they basked in the world's perversion, looking over every minute detail of the rocks and trees. In that first second, they saw everything; the blue sky, the vibrant green woods, even the smallest cracks in the mountainside. 

This world was familiar. 

This world was alien. 

This world... had been loved by its creator. 

It couldn’t help but feel angered by that fact. 

A word came from the beings hidden mouth, the syllables lost in the miasma of otherworldly energy, as they beckoned to the portal. 

As before, the world screamed as more figures came from the pale light. 

The first wore a white mask on their head, three red claw marks going over one glass covered eye socket. There was a calm to the beings' movements as their leather jacket flapped behind them, it seemed almost...relaxed. Uncaring. At total ease as it swung its weapon onto its shoulder, as though there was no great atrocity being committed by their hands. 

The second dashed from the breach, red great coat wrapped tightly around its body. A hood shrouded its head as it began watching the trees, as though daring them to step out of line. 

The third and final figure was the strangest of them all; Odd, otherworldly runes covered their clothing as pendants and jewelry seemed to glow with an unnatural light. They were the only one to show their skin, to admit their humanity, winding roots and branches born of ink stretching across the tanned flesh. 

The soft blue light dimmed as the final form broke through the breach, the doorway closing behind them 

“God. Fucking. Damnit, I hate that shit!” Otto shouted, gripping his gas masked head. “Why the hell does it have to feel so weird?!”  

The bandits previous air of bravado and calm had completely broken the second the portal closed; whatever power that fueled his theatrics having left him in the dust. The man kneeled over as he groaned out obscenities, cursing the mother of some putrid beast. 

The giant chuckled as he stowed his hammer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hey, it beats taking Rahul's ‘Cleansing Tonic’. I'm fairly sure it’s purely thanks to the All-Fathers favor that we survived that little ‘event’. ‘All-in-one-cure’ my ass.” he said, grimacing at the memory from beneath his helmet. It had taken weeks before his armor to stop smelling of bile and refuse. 

A look of mock horror covered the cultists face as he turned to the armored warrior, a hand going to his heart, “Why I never!” He breathed out, “My tonics and medicines are the best in all the worlds, no competition! It's not my fault that your weak, human , bodies couldn’t handle them, Thatcher!” 

The red clad soldier rolled his eyes as the three began to squabble, his sight resting on something in the distance.  

“Numbskulls! Eyes up, we have actual shit to worry about!” He shouted over the childish banter, the three figures turning towards him. 

“Oh, believe me,” the Bandit remarked, “There was some real shit after we took those tonics.” 

A tired sigh left the soldiers lips, the bags sitting under his eyes growing ever larger.  

“The less I know about your dumbasses working as Rahul's Guinea pigs the better. Regardless! We have an actual, tangible, immediate, right-in-the-fucking-moment, type shit to be considering!” 

“Ya, and what would that be?” Otto shouted back. “Ocelot, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty damn sure the breaches usually make everything fuck off... at least, that’s what they did back on Corsus.. .” 

Sighing, the soldier stood up, looking into the distance “I'm referring to the train.” 

A look of confusion took over the group. 

“What train-” 

An explosion was heard far off on the horizon, accompanied by the sound of screeching metal. 

“...” 

“Oh. That train.”  

Silence fell over the group as they stared at the distant flame, the sun beginning to set behind the mountains at their back. 

“We’re...ganna have to deal with that, aren't we?” Otto asked, giving his gun one last check. 

He received no response as the rest followed suit, preparing to march off towards the crash. 

-------- 

Weiss woke to pain, her eyes struggling to open as she desperately grasped to consciousness, spitting out what she could only hope was just bile, though the iron taste told her otherwise. There wasn’t a single part of her body that wasn’t screeching in distress as a wave of nausea hit her, almost breaking what little grip she had on the waking world as she struggled to collect herself. 

The girl almost shrieked as she looked at the state of her body; Her snow-white dress was now stained a deep crimson at multiple points, metal shards littered her body, and she was certain arms weren't supposed to bend that way. 

Leaning back, Weiss let out a pained sigh as she stared at the trains wall, which now sat as its ceiling.  

She was lucky, she knew that. Had the conductor not called out in warning, had she not been able to raise her aura in time... 

She wouldn’t have lived long enough to feel this pain. 

Weiss cried in pain as she desperately tried to stand, tried to escape this death trap. She made it barely two steps before the metal shards in her left leg forced her to the ground once more. 

As she lay there, bleeding out on the ground, she realized something... 

She couldn’t move, her aura was broken, and there were no Atlas soldiers coming to her rescue. 

She was going to die. 

After five attempts, the red maw was finally going to succeed. 

Gunfire rang out above her, yells following the brutal blasts. 

Though...what were they using? The sounds were all wrong. They weren't the soft blasts of dust rounds, they were... big , meaty, and they did a lot more than just wound if the screaming was anything to go by. 

The firefight lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to make her sink even deeper into despair; whatever survivors that had tried to save her were dead. The Schnee's only used Dust weapons, so whoever was using those strange guns... 

She could hear the sounds of boots stomping overhead before they stopped at the door that now sat on the ceiling. 

...Was with the Red Maw. 

For a few blissful seconds, there was silence. Weiss was able to pretend, if only briefly, that she was safe. That the pain wasn’t there. That she was on her way to the next chapter of her life... 

And then, with a great slam, the door on the now horizontal wall crumpled.  

‘That thing is nearly three inches thick...’ she thought in fear, desperately dragging herself away from the entrance, desperately clawing for Myrtenaster. 

With another great clash, the door fell to the floor. 

The light that shined down blinded her, forcing her to cover her eyes as a great weight fell from above, slamming down nearby. 

Weiss uncovered her eyes, gazing upon the armored giant before her, preparing herself for was to be her final moments, except... 

They were not a white fang renegade, that was for sure. 

There was no white mask or uniform, no symbol of a bloodied wolfs head.  The man that stood over her was covered in odd symbols that reminded her of an old Altesian religion. Chains wrapped around the forest green greatcoat, binding the numerous plates of armor to the Goliaths body. In his hands was a massive hammer that seemed to spark with electricity, an odd crystal core sitting at its center, its color and markings not conforming with any dust type she knew. A Great tree was painted on the being's chest plate, its roots reaching around the many chains. 

Weiss began to crawl faster before the giant stowed their hammer and raised their hands. 

“Calm yourself, we’re not here to hurt you, only to help.” He said, the deep timber of his voice ringing out through the broken train car. “Rahul, Ocelot, get down here, we have a survivor, and she's critical!” 

Two more people jumped down through the hole, dust billowing up from the spot of impact. 

The first appeared to be some kind of cultist, the runes that covered his coat giving her a bad feeling, not helped by the root like tattoos which covered his face. As she stared at him, he opened a satchel at his side pulling out a myriad of what she could only assume to be medical equipment. Small vials filled with red liquid, a number of bandages, and a large bottle of what she hoped was cleaning alcohol.  

The second figure brought her relief, as she recognized the uniform of a soldier, even if she didn’t know who they belonged to, at least they werent White Fang. 

She relaxed slightly as the two crouched down next to her, looking over her body. After a few seconds and some mumbling, the cultist put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes, his face turning into a caring smile. 

“Alright my friend, before we go through introductions, I’m going to need to get this metal out of you, do you understand?” The cultist asked, receiving a nod in return. “Good, now, I don’t happen to have any painkillers on me so I'm not going to lie, this will hurt...a lot .” 

She got no more warning as he began pulling the metal from her body, using his various tools to pull it out without further harming her. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, the pain overtaking her senses. 

A moment later the pain began to ebb, the cultist being satisfied with how much metal had been removed. 

“Ok, good, that’s phase one, now for phase two...” He pulled out a small vial filled with a strange red, pulpy, liquid. “I need you to drink this, it'll help stabilize you while my friend here assists in patching up those holes.” 

She downed the liquid without a word, blanching at its horrid taste. 

“Well done, Thatcher over there, the big guy, didn’t take it down nearly as well the first time.”, He said, trying his best to cheer her up. 

Weiss could feel the pain and weakness leaving her body as the concoction slid into her gullet, whatever was in the vial quickly taking effect. 

The cultist and Soldier finished up their work fairly soon afterward, her body looking far less corpse-y than it had before. She looked up to the cultist as he started to stow his supplies away, his smile beaming back at her. 

“Now that you’re a bit more stable, we can finally get around to introductions; I am Rahul, a botanist after God's job, and the democratically elected leader of our little troop-” 

“Bullshit, I didn’t get a vote!” The yell rang out from above, a fourth person having apparently stayed outside. 

“That’s because, according to you, figuring out which bottle of whisky you could get to the bottom of first was more important!” Rahul shouted in reply, rolling his eyes. 

Weiss let out a giggle despite the pain, drawing Rahul's attention back to her.  

“Well, if our friend Otto is done interrupting me, the soldier that was me assisting in your medical treatment is Ocelot, don’t try talking to him until we’re done here, he acts like an ass while on missions.” 

That earned a growl from the soldier “What you call being an ass, I call acting professional in a hostile-” 

“Ya ya ya, we’ve heard it a thousand times already, we don’t need to hear it again.” The giant cut in, lightly slapping Ocelot on the back of the head. 

“This Goliath here-” He indicated the giant, “Is Thatcher, our friendly neighborhood berserker.” 

As the last of the sutures was done, Rahul pulled out another red vial. 

“Alright, I only need you to drink one more of these, and then we can get you out of here.” 

With the second vial in her, she could finally feel the pain receding in full. 

“As for the last of our little gaggle of idiots, Otto is the one supposedly standing guard. Honestly, much more likely that Hes already started looting .”  

“I can neither confirm, nor deny!” The response came from overhead .  

“T-thank you.” She managed to cough out. 

“No need for thanks; Thatcher, pick her up and come with me, we need to get her to safety. Ocelot, join up with Otto and clear the train, figure out what the hell was happening here.” 

The soldier gave a salute as the giant walked towards her, lifting her in a bridal carry much to her embarrassment. 

“H-hey! Watch how you're carrying me!” 

“Would you prefer a Firemans carry? I'm certain it would be far less embarrassing draped around my shoulders like a dead wolf.” 

“N-never mind.” 

“Thought so.” 

Weiss watched as Ocelot jumped back up through the ceiling's door, using an odd sword extended on a chain to pull himself up- 

Her train of thought was abruptly cut off as what had once been the cars ceiling burst open, a hulking wooden brute having caved it in with an ungodly sword. The bark that covered its body was an ashen white, and glowing red veins lined its flesh. 

“And there's our exit.” Rahul said, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked out, the wooden creature standing to the side. “Come now miss, we’ll get you out of here while our cohorts handle the rabble.” 

----- 

It was a slaughter, plain and simple.  

Bodies lined the downed train and its surrounding wreckage, a disturbing number of them having died to a bullet, rather than the crash. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. The hostiles had taken a ‘kill anything that moves’ mentally, gunning down everything, from guards to unarmed civilians. Hell, they didn’t even hesitate to shoot at his team on sight. 

The smell of iron, ash, and fresh blood permeated the air around Ocelot. If he was honest, he would admit that it comforted him. It meant there was a battle to be had, that he would take the field again. 

Gunfire could be heard ahead, at the other end of the train, distant yells going silent. 

‘So, it was a two-pronged attack. One squad sent to the front, the other to the back’  

The prime question that sat at the back of his head was simple; what were they after? 

If they were out for kills than they would have swept the whole train first, going after passenger cars. Instead, it looked as though this was a precision strike, the force splitting to attack specific targets. 

The problem now was to find out if their target was a what, or a who. 

Who; if he had to make a guess. If they were after loot than they had hit the complete wrong area of the train, given that the supply cars were left completely untouched- 

“Otto! Drop the loot, we’re here to clear the area and find survivors, not pick up every shiny thing we see!” 

The bandit jumped at Ocelots outburst, a number of multi-colored crystals falling from his hands as he desperately stuffed them into his pockets. 

“Watcha talkin about?! I wasn’t looting!” 

Ocelot raised an eyebrow at that, staring Otto in the eyes. 

“I can literally see you hiding them behind your back.” 

“Well, ya! I wanted to investigate them, not steal them! See!” He said, puffing out his jacket, “No bulges! I aint got any on me!” 

‘Oh, dear fuck-’  

“Otto, don’t you pull that jacket shit with me! We all know those things are non-Euclidian! Now, I don’t know where the hell you got the shit to make them that way, but its bullshit nonetheless! Drop the loot!” 

“Ugh, fine!” 

At that, a number of crystals fell out of the bandit's leather jacket, proving the soldiers point as many were simply too big to have fit in the small pockets. 

“See! Is that what you want!” 

“No, what I WANT is for you to throw that shit away.” 

“Goddamnit, fine! 

Otto chucked the crystals into the forest, angered by his looting being inturrupted... 

Just for them to violently explode, sending both of them into guard positions. 

After a second of silence, the two stood up, looking at the newly formed crater. 

‘Some kind of explosives...?’  

...  

“On second thought, Otto, loot as much as you please.” 

--- 

“We are tired of this human supremacy! Groups like the SDC have put us down for too long!”  

Ironwood stood still as a statue as workers scrambled to stop the live feed that had begun to blast over every channel of the CCT. 

A White Fang Lieutenant stood on screen, the burning wreckage of a train sitting in the background. Surrounding the man were a dozen bloodied bodies. 

The terrorists red uniform marked him as a member of the red maw, a violent offshoot of the greater Fang. 

 ‘Why the hell were they broadcasting this?! Surely they knew huntsmen would be down in mere moments!’ 

The video feed was easily tracked, letting Ironwood, Atlas, Vale, hell, the whole of Remnant know their exact location! 

This couldn’t have simply been about the dust-! 

Ironwood’s thoughts were cut off as a call hit his scroll, Jacques Schnee on the other end. 

The generals stomach dropped as he heard the man speak. 

“Get your soldiers down there! My daughter is on that train!” 

“Finally, we have made our move! Today, we have killed a Schnee!”  

---  

Glynda looked out the window of Beacon tower in horror, seeing the smoke trail in the distance as the headmasters scroll began to ring. 

“Yes Ironwood, I am aware of the situation, yes, I have huntsmen inbound.” Ozpin was frantically calling any huntsmen he could get his hands on, sending them to the trains position as fast as he could. 

“In mere moments all the world will see the bastard's corpse!”  

---  

“No, please-!”  

The chained sword slipped easily between the bastard's ribs, turning their desperate plea into a gurgled scream. 

“Car 15 clear of hostiles, preparing to breach Car 14-” 

“For the love of God Ocelot, they do not need a play by play!” Otto shouted, taking a drum mag out of his surprisingly spacious jacket. 

“On the contrary- Ack!” A red headed man stood on the top of Car 14, a bowler hat adorning his head and a white coat wrapped around his chest. 

A burst of rounds thundered out of Ottos tommy gun, turning the strangely dressed man into...glass? 

“Holy shit, watch your fire!” The man shouted, having appeared within the sealed door of the next car. “Do you guys normally shoot people on sight?!” 

“Do you normally expect people to not when surrounded by hostiles?  Last I checked, this train is crawling with enemy combatants, how are we supposed to know whether you are or are not?” Ocelot bit back, motioning for Otto to prepare a breaching charge; If this was another hostile, then the bastard wasn't making it out alive. 

“ Because , shit boot! IM not wearing Fang shit!” The stranger shouted, indicating his coat from behind the glass. “Last I checked, white fang doesn’t normally run around in bowler hats and nice suits! Nor do they tend to grace you with their presence before shooting!” 

The man...had a point. Up until now not a single combatant had stopped to say anything more than “Kill them!” Or “Please don’t kill me, I have a family!”.  

“...Alright, let's say you aren't a member of these...Fang. Mind telling us what you're doing here? You don’t seem ‘equipped’ to be doing much.” Indeed, from what he could see through the glass, the man didn’t have a weapon on him, if you didn’t count the cane, that is. 

“Well, my slightly murderous friend, it's quite simple; I'm here to...” The man stopped, staring deeply at Otto, eyes narrowed into slits. 

“... Dibs.”  

“GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!” Ottos outburst shocked Ocelot out of his ‘Kill all hostiles’ state, making the soldier go wide as the bandit began threatening unspeakable harm unto the man, all the while, said man could do not but laugh hysterically. 

“... what?” Ocelot was at a complete loss, having no idea what the hell was going on. 

“It took me a bit, but Id recognize the look of a fellow thief anywhere. And any thief worth their salt will always accept the rule of dibs .”  

Oh, it was dumb Otto shit. That explained it. 

“Regardless of my partners...” Otto let out another string of threats “ Eccentricities, would you mind identifying yourself? I'm sick of referring to you as ‘the strangely dressed man’ in my internal monologue.” 

“I, my mildly insulting friend-” The strangely dressed man opened the door with a bow “-Am Roman Torchwhick; Gentlemen thief, scourge of Vale, master of disguise-”  

A parasol hit the newly dubbed Roman over the head at that last title, a ridiculously short girl appearing next to him. 

The girl had a strange set of mismatched eyes, and her hair was evenly divided between pink, brown and white. Her outfit was just as tactically inept as her...father? Boyfriend? Accomplice? Whatever the fuck. He strongly doubted that a leotard and crop-top-jacket were good for combat. Or looting. Or- 

He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger purely out of instinct, killing the Fang grunt on the spot.  

“Weve got hostiles!” He shouted, Otto raising his tommy gun and laying down suppressive fire on the approaching fang soldiers who had begun sneaking up the car behind Roman. Said ‘Master thief’ and his accomplice had hit the deck faster than he had ever see someone do before, basically throwing themselves face first into the ground as a hail-storm of bullets fired overhead. 

“Oh, fuck this!” Roman blurted out, aiming his cane down the car, only to...fire an explosive?! 

The blast, and its insueing blaze ‘an incendiary round?’ tore the remaining soldiers apart, leaving the group alone once again. 

“Ok, wow. Fang have got their panties in twist today, huh.” 

“Indeed, now.” Ocelot looked down on the two thieves as they picked themselves up. “I suggest you get moving before you get in our way. We have fang to kill.” 

Ocelot signaled for Otto to join him, but was stopped as Roman got in his way. 

“Better idea!” 

Worse idea. 

“Why don’t we work together?” 

Worst idea. 

“Let me think about it...” Ocelot paused for a second. “ NO.”  

Ocelot began marching past him again, making his way for the next car. 

“I'll let you have a bit of the loot once we’re done!” 

“I said no! Otto, let's move!” 

… 

Otto had stopped walking, looking back and forth between Ocelot and Roman. 

“... Otto...”  

“Ok, listen to me-” 

“ Otto.”  

“But Loot!” 

“Otto, we do not have time for this shit!” 

“But we do have time to grab some good shit before we bounce!” 

“But we do not have time to dick around! Our orders are ‘Kill all hostiles’, not loot the damn train!” 

Roman let out a short cough, the two redirecting their attention to him. 

“Well, boys, I believe I may have a compromise. If you give me a bit of help with packing some of this loot up after your... cleansing , Ill lend you Neo to help clear up this train. As it happens, I'm not a big fan of the Fang either, so their deaths have no weight on my heart.” 

“Absolutely no-” 

“We want a crate of the explody stuff.” Otto cut him off. 

“Perfectly fine with me.” 

“Then deal.” 

Aaaand there it was. Can't have a single good deployment without something  going wrong. 

Now they had some short stack tagalong, and had to help some overdressed dumbass load up his loot.  

“Fine, just help us kill these fuckers and we’ll help.” 

For, hopefully, the final time Ocelot gave the signal to move out, charging down the train cars. 

--- 

“Ozpin, I've talked with every available Huntsmen we have, none of them are going to be there for another hour.” 

“Godsdamnit, how do we not have a single person ready for something like this!” 

“These humans have stood above us-”  

“And is he still fucking going?! At this point I would prefer if he just shot the kid if it shut him the hell up!” 

“Ozpin!” 

“Don't judge me! Do you know how many times I've heard this kind of monologue?! Enough to drive a man insane!” 

“Any second now- Wait, who the hell are-”  

A flurry of gunshots could be heard over the speakers as the main speaker turned to his side in shock, only a second later a bullet blasting through his head in a well of gore. 

The ensuing fight was quick and brutal, the camera being knocked over as the white fang scrambled to collect themselves to no avail. 

Their assailants were utterly uncompromising, the number of bodies on the ground nearly doubling as the fang were slaughtered. 

“Otto, Neo, clear up the rest of these bastards, I'm going to get Rahul on comms and catch him up.”  

A new voice came over the speakers, this one sounding a bit younger than the fang lieutenant.  

“Ay, Ocelot, we’ve got a camera over here!”  

“Destroy it.”  

With that, the feed cut out, leaving Ozpin and his deputy in shocked silence. 

“...What the fuck.” 

For once, Ozpin didn’t even think of correcting his deputy’s language. 

--- 

“You what?!”  

“Otto made a stupid deal with the thief, and now we’ve gotta help him load up whatever he looted here.” 

“Great. At the very least grab a few souvenirs, Thatcher and I have nearly made it to the city limits.”  

“Understood, Ocelot out.” 

Ocelot put the short-range-radio back into its slot on his chest, refusing to call it a walkie talkie, even in his internal monologue. 

“Hey, soldier boy, help me get this crate in the bullhead!” Roman shouted, indicating a box of blue crystals. 

Sighing, Ocelot made his way over, helping to heave the box onto the flying machine that had touched down shortly before. 

A few minutes later, Roman let out a contented sigh as the last of the crates was loaded on board, looking back to the two boys. 

“Well kiddos, I tip my hat to you. You helped me get away with WAY more loot than I was expecting, and even managed to sate Neos bloodlust...at least for a bit.” 

The man walked over to one last crate, patting its top. 

“As promised, one crate of blast Dust for your work, pleasure doing business with ya.” 

As he walked up the platform into the machine, he stopped, seeming to think for a second. 

“Oh, and if ya ever need work-” He took a card out of his pocket and tossed it to them, “-Go to Juniors and tell him Roman sent ya.” 

Otto took off his jacket after catching the card, throwing it over the box. It took less than a second for it to disappear within the un-explainable majesty that was the leather. 

With that, the machine flew off as the two ran into the forest trying to catch up with their comrades.  

--- 

“Alright, here we are.” 

Thatcher gently let the girl down as they arrived within the city's outer wall, having easily slipped past the incompetent guards that had been asking for id. 

The bloodwort had done its work, as it always has, having repaired the girl's body enough to stand under her own power, if only just. 

“Ok, from here it should be a fairly straight shot towards a police station, think you can make it?” Rahul asked, giving the girl one last look over. 

“Y-yes, and, thank you again.” She paused for a second, looking confused. “Wait, how do you know there’s a station near here? You don’t have a scroll and your obviously not Valen.” 

“That, my dear, is simple; The plants here see everything, and their roots do not lie.” 

Ah, classic Rahul, being a vague asshole. 

“What he means is that he can speak to the plants, and just asked for a general layout.” Thatcher explained, understanding taking over the girl’s face. 

“Oh, don’t you go ruining my fun.” the cultist chuckled out, lightly slapping the Berserker’s pauldron. 

“Regardless...” The girl cut in, getting the twos attention again. “I am now in your debt. Should you ever need it, the SDC will be there to help in any way we can.” 

Thatcher glanced at Rahul from behind his helmet, amusement in his eyes. 
“That’s quite the claim, dear. I’m sure we will cash in that debt eventually, but for now, you need to get some proper medical attention, and we need to reunite with our friends.” 

The girl sighed as she began walking away, turning back one last time. “Are you sure you can’t come with me? I’m certain you will be handsomely rewarded for your actions.” 

“Maybe.” Thatcher grunted, inspecting his blood-soaked hammer, “But we would prefer not to deal with the situation so soon. Don’t worry, well take credit eventually. Just, for now... a bit of a settle down would be nice.” 

“Okay...I hope to see you again soon!” 

With that, the girl ran, or rather limped, off, leaving the two to go and collect their friends. 

“What’s your bet this will come to bite us in the ass?” Thatcher asked the Cultist. 

“Hmm, I give it a 50/50 chance. It depends on how bureaucratic this world is.” 

--- 

Far away in a tall tower, a silver haired immortal was going through the tiring work of appeasing every politician in the world. 

Chapter Text

Avriel – Sorry about this taking so long to get out, I took a vacation up to England to watch my sister graduate from Uni and didn’t do much writing during that time.  

---  

The sun had begun to set over the city of Vale, the noise of an eventful day growing softer as lights began to appear across the darkening cityscape.   

Deep within one of the many rundown residential districts, situated at the great walls edge, the sounds of movement could be heard from within the confines of an old abandoned apartment building.  

“Thatcher, get those windows barricaded, I don’t want us waking up to any nasty surprises.” Rahul ordered.  

The four had chosen this place as their temporary HQ, as while its windows were broken and its floor dirty, it was much safer than the exposed streets.  

This wasn’t their first rodeo, far from it, in fact. At this point, setting up a FOB*1 was as natural as making breakfast in the morning.  

As such, the group had transformed the place in record time; Old furniture and debris had been brought out to form something of a living space, windows and breaches were barricaded to stop intruders, and necessities like food and water were prepared for consumption.  

“Huh, shacking up in an abandoned building with a gun under my pillow. Feels like home, doesn't it?” Ocelot remarked.  

“Ya,” Thatcher grunted out, forcing a rotted bookshelf into place over a window, “Only real difference is that now we’re worried about void deamons and not Tree monsters... not too sure which I liked better.”  

“Meh, I liked the Root more, felt a lot less edgy.”   

The Berserker stopped for a moment, turning to the soldier.  

“...Blood red cloak, rebreather, knife obsession-”  

A clang sounded throughout the building as an empty food can collided with the warrior's helmet, the sound quickly drowned out by his laughter.  

“Oh, shut up you jackass, you know damn well what I mean!”  

“Do I?” He said with a grin, “Do I really?”  

“Thats enough, you can bully Ocelot’s choice in... ascetics, later.” Rahul cut in, grabbing everyone's attention, Otto finally digging his head out of the bag of sweets he had... appropriated , on the way to their base. “For now, we need to get down to our actual purpose here.”  

“Say hello-” Rahul stepped to the side, revealing a large strip of parchment hastily tacked on to the wall, “-To Operation: Kill the Guardian, Part 2!”  

“Operation: Kill the Guardian 2”  

Objective – Kill the Guardian of this planet and bring its heart to the Undying King so he can fully resurrect Rhom into a paradise world, in return, the people of earth can migrate to the revitalized planet and live in peace.  

Guardian location – Unknown  

Planetary culture – Unknown  

Main enemies – Weird black monster things, I guess??? Didn’t have much information past “Grimm monsters of darkness who feed on negative emotions”  

Possible Strategy's – None  

Known allies – None  

Literally any information at all – None  

The plans reveal was met with silence.  

“... So, we have absolutely nothing?” Otto asked.  

“That is correct.” Came Rahul’s reply  

More silence followed before the bandit spoke up again.  

“The plan is just to Bumblefuck around until we luck our way into its lair from pure chance, isn't it?”  

“Pretty much.”  

This would be a long one. No insectoid queen to point them the right way, no giant monolith that basically screamed ‘Loot me!’, and no ominous light house... they were going to be here for a-  

“Ah shit, we’re ganna have to get actual jobs, aren't we.”  

This revelation was met by groans from the others.  

“By the All Fathers raggedy-ass beard, why didn’t we ask for more information before coming here?!” Thatcher wailed, choosing to slam down onto his back, “That Undying Bastard has to have had more information about this place!”  

“To our credit,” Otto remarked, “That guy is confusing at the best of times. Anything he told us would probably be wrapped up in vague riddles and totally-not-made-up prophecies.”  

“So we just... settle down? This doesn't sound like it's going to be as fast as the Corsus Op was.” Ocelot Mused.  

Rahul could do nothing but grimace at his companions’ reactions. They weren't wholly unexpected, but it reinforced the team's lack of enthusiasm for their newest mission.  

“Listen, this may be a bit of a schlog-”  

“You can say that again.” Otto interrupted.  

“ BUT, -” Rahul continued, “- for once we have actual sentient people to talk too! Not some genocide surviving elf, or some desert mutant, or a goat lady captain Ford fucked, but actual humans! We can have social lives! ”  

His final statement was met with a brief silence before Otto spoke up.  

“Oh wow, we really are fucked.”  

In the past years they had only truly interacted with two other humans, both of which were now far away in a trans-dimensional terminus. Now they had to actually... talk to people?! Go to social gatherings?! Make friends!?  

The idea was far more daunting than possibly fighting a god-adjacent planetary guardian. As it turns out, social interactions are much easier when the only action is ‘Shoot the fucker’ .  

“For the sake of ignoring our impending doom via social-humiliation-” Thatcher began, rising into a sitting position, “Can we please actual think of something to do? While Otto may not have been entirely wrong, I don't think wandering around blindly will pull up many results.”  

“Thank you for the convenient segway, Thatcher.” Rahul began, clearing his throat while rifling through more papers he had taken out before the presentation. “I do actually happen to have a set of jobs for us to work on in the immediate future.”   

Rahul picked up a large stack of files, selecting a few before handing them out to the different troupe members.  

“To start with, we have little to no information on this world’s culture or history, I will be the one seeking to remedy this thanks to the small fact that I'm somehow the only person here who knows how to talk to people without-”  

He looks to Otto, “Trying to steal from them.”  

To Ocelot, “Trying to interrogate them.”  

To thatcher, “Or trying to duel them.”  

The others looked around sheepishly, embarrassed but denying nothing.  

“At the same time, I'll be checking for ‘holy’ sites and the lot, it's our best chance of locating the guardian early.”  

“Next, while I would love nothing more than to stay on the right side of the law, it is plain to see this will not be possible. We lack documentation, money, or any history on this world. If I'm not mistaken, Otto, your new friend, Roman, should be able to help us in those regards.”  

“On it, shouldn’t be too hard to track down Junior’s and see about getting some documents, Ill also try to get us some work that won't land us on the local authority's shit list.”  

“That’s all I can ask of you.” Rahul responded with a nod before continuing.  

“I certainly trust we can all make it back here after we leave, but it would still be beneficial if we had an actual map, or at the very least, an idea of the area. I, personally, would also love to have a base of operations that wasn’t a dingy abandoned apartment building. Ocelot, I assume you know whose job this will be.” 

A grunt of affirmation was all he received from the Soldier.  

“Finally, Thatcher. We already know about these ‘Grimm’ abominations, we were told at least that much before we arrived. Thanks to your expertise in everything violence, I want you to find out how they tick, or rather, how to make them stop ticking. Durability, weaknesses, variations, the whole lot. Feel free to inspect the local's weaponry while you're at it.”  

“Understood, if they’ve lasted this long with such lackluster defenses, they have to have something up their sleeves.” The Warrior was obviously still thinking about how easy it had been to slip through the city's walls.  

With one last look at his team, Rahul bowed and began out the door, the four fighters going to complete their given objectives.  

---  

Luckily for the cultist, it seems a city like Vale never truly slept. The many public libraries and archives that dotted the concrete jungle were open all hours of the day to everyone, no matter their station, such apparently having been mandated by its founder.   

He had already been perusing his current haunt for two hours, jotting down notes on everything, from the city's history to its religion, even down to the small happening's others would call insignificant. It was always those tiny little details that told you what truly made a place.  

It had been...shocking, to walk up to the South Vale library to find that there was no need of ID or currency, to just be admitted without caution. A place like this was a masterful wealth of knowledge and literature, why would they be so poor in defending it?  

Even getting there had been odd. He was so used to dodging through cover, always keeping an eye out for Root or bandits, or some other force of harm, that it was difficult to simply...not. To stay out in the open and simply greet people as they walked past on the lamplit streets.  

The danger was still there, it always would be; He could see less than savory individuals hiding in dark ally's, waiting for some poor unfortunate to walk just a little too close.   

He had made of game of baiting them out. It was always fun to break a person like that. In life there was only one fate for sinners such as them. The dark alleyways made for perfect cover  

Not that he feared reprisal from the locals. The Roots were hungry. They’d never find the bodies.  

He smiled at the thought, letting out a light groan as he stretched, sitting up in the chair he had claimed deep within the library. This had been nice, really. Just being able to sit and read for an extended period of time without distraction.  

No guard duty constantly tearing at his attention.  

No impending assault to get his blood pumping.  

Just a relaxing, quiet, break...  

Ok, yeah, he was bored as sin.  

Apparently, a lot of the pleasure in a break was the knowledge that it was merely the calm before the storm, your last chance to get some pleasure in before the fighting started. This was more like the calm before the more-calm. Nothing was going to attack him out of the blue, or bring any excitement into his-   

“Hey Vel! Look at this porno mag I found!”  

‘Oh, thank god.’  

Rahul looked over to his god-sent disturbance, seeing two girls hanging on to a book. The one who had shouted appeared to be what he could only describe as upper class; Expensive looking clothes, obviously over designed, A finely detailed set of sunglasses, and a berate atop her head. The other was more modestly dressed, wearing a simple pair of jeans and a hoody, her...rabbit...ears... ‘Oh boy, that’s new.’  

“Coco! That’s a biology book! And keep quiet, we don’t want to disturb anyone!” The rabbit eared girl said, face bursting into a brilliant red.  

“A bit late for that, I'm afraid.” Both women looked over to him as he spoke up, watching as he stood from his seat and closed his book  

‘Might as well have a bit of fun before the night ends’  

“S-sorry sir! My f-friend was just-”  

“Having fun, I'm aware.” He cut off her stuttering as he walked over waving his hand, “Its fine by me, I have no issue with others having a bit of fun, but I do worry you may be removed if you don’t quiet down a bit.”   

The meek girl nodded her head, while the other gave him an odd look from behind her glasses. “So, mister cultist,” Ah, she had noticed the tattoos and symbols, it was always more fun when they did, “What brings you to the library so late at night?”  

“The same question could be asked of you, but I digress.” He raised his book, ‘History of Vale Volume 3’, and continued, “I am merely a foreigner trying to learn more about where I am to live for the foreseeable future. I only arrived here a few hours ago, so let's say my opportunity to do so has been...limited.” He grinned as he drew out the final word, “Now, mind answering in kind? It doesn't take a genius to know that such late-night visits aren't all too common.”  

The girl, Coco if he heard right, looked him up and down, “Well, I have a few-”  

Before she could get any further, the rabbit eared girl clamped a hand over her mouth and gave him a dead stare full of fatigue.  

“We’re studying. Beacon starts up again in a few months, and I want to get our summer work done now rather than last minute.” She turns a sour look to Coco, “And I really don’t want a repeat of last year's four all-nighters in a row.”  

Beacon, the school of aspiring warriors; he had seen it mentioned a few times while reading the city's history. While the books commonly referred to it as a combat school, it seemed to teach far more than how to fight, given its extensive courses on history, math's, and the sciences.  

“Hmm, Beacon then? The two of you must be quite bright if you’re going there.”   

“Oh, thank you! It was super hard to get in initially-”   

The rabbit eared girl petered off into a rant, seeming to be lost in her own head having completely missed the true meaning of his statement. The other girl though... she hadn't , and if the manic grin told him anything, then he was going to be having fun.  

“Ya,” Coco began, “It's been pretty illuminating studying there.”  

“Huh?” The rabbit was catching on now, how long till she figured it out? “I thought you hated studying; you always complain about it.”  

“Really? You’d think your friend would make light of such an important activity?”  

“What?”  

“Ya Vel, I'm a glowing student, why wouldn’t I love studying?”  

“Uh.”  

“Truly, your friend here is incandescent in her devotion to her work, so much so its nearly blinding.  

“Wait-” The rabbit girl stops for a second and sags. “-Oh god not another one!” She shouts, a look of utter terror on her face.  

He really should get back to work.  

Buuuuuuuuut this was a lot more entertaining.  

---  

So.  

He was lost.  

Like, really lost.  

Like, actively doesn't even know what direction their current base happened to be in kinda lost.  

Otto speed-walked down another street, eyes darting in every direction hoping to see anything he could count as a landmark to no avail. ‘Why does a city need 87 fucking pawn shops?!’  

This city had to be fucking with him, right? He spent YEARS exploring the urban sprawls of countless words! And hell, those were worse, at least this one was alive rather than being a concrete maze of destroyed buildings.  

How the hell had he found his way around before-  

Shit.  

He, uh, did admittedly just follow everyone else around, didn’t he?   

Ya, that’s right; Ocelot was the main path finder, and when he couldn’t find their way Rahul just used the plants to get a general idea of the area. Even Thatcher had a history of finding his way around places like this as a clanner.   

Wait, how did he do this before joining the troupe? It's not like he just bumblefucked around until-  

“I fucking hate my life.”  

He had never actually been alone, had he?   

Before the troupe he ran around with captain Ford pointing him where to go. Before Ford he had whatever scavengers and wanderers he could latch onto. Before the scavengers he had the Bandit clan.  

Otto could loot a place in seconds, he could sneak circles around people-save Ocelot, he could make any number of gadgets and tools, he could put so much lead down range that the enemy drowned in a hail-fire of death.  

But for all the good that did him, he couldn’t find his way around to save his goddamn life.  

Okay, new plan!  

And by new, he means literally the oldest plan in the book: Find someone else to solve his problems for him.  

“What's a cute girlie like you doin’ on this side of town?” The words came from the mouth of some greasy looking man leaning out of a nearby ally, trying to shove his way into some blonds personal space.  

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, creep.”  

Oh look, a volunteer.  

“Sorry to butt in-” Otto began walking towards the two, pulling the Chicago Typewriter out from his jacket. “- But , how do you normally handle this sort of thing around here? Where I'm from, we have a habit of just shooting the fucker, but I've been told that’s... rude in modern society.” He had, in fact, not been told that, but he didn’t think turning a man into mulch would be all too acceptable to the local law enforcement-  

The girl smirked at him before slamming one of her fists into the man's stomach, launching him away with a loud bang as the gold bracer on her wrist ejected a set of shotgun shells.  

-Or maybe he should have just opened with gunfire. Apparently, it WAS acceptable.  

“Hey man,” The blond starts, “Thanks for distracting him long enough for me to get a hit in. Probably coulda dealt with him myself, but it's always good to have witnesses to help testify in case the cops come knocking. Names Yang, what's yours?”  

The bandit shoved his tommy gun back into his jacket as he let out a chuckle, “Otto, good to meet ya. Nice swing by the way, wouldn’t mind getting my hands on those bracers to see how they tick.”  

Yangs smirk grew as she inspected her bracers, “’Fraid they’re not for sale, but I'll take that as a compliment to my craftmanship.”   

A pity, but it's not like he couldn’t figure them out with a bit of tinkering later; The basic idea seemed to be a set of shotgun barrels on top, fed by a revolving cylinder around the wrist. Complicated, low on ammo, and most likely prone to jamming with prolonged use. Not a bad weapon per say, but one designed for surprise and quick bursts of combat rather than a full-blown fire fight. He could bring it up with Thatcher later and go over some notes, the big guy was a bit better when it came to straight up weapons like these, rather than Ottos preferred gadgets and bombs.  

“Anyway,” Yang starts again, cutting off Ottos muttering, “Anything ya need, or shall we go our separate ways?”  

Oh, right, his original reason for doing all of this.  

“Actually, ya. Wouldn’t happen to know of a place called juniors, would ya? A friend referred me there, and I'm having some trouble finding it. New in town, ya get it?”  

“Well well well, isn't that a coincidence.” Yangs smile takes a more relaxed form as she stretched out one of her arms overhead. “I was just heading there when this piece of work decided he wanted a new hole in his stomach, you can follow me, I owe ya a drink anyways.”  

With that, the Blond led him... 2 blocks down the street to a large building that had “Juniors” written on top in bright neon letters.  

Reality was mocking him again, great.  

Yang let out a grunt as they looked at the line to get in, the wretched thing spanning the block and then some.  

“Let me handle the bouncer, I think I know how we can skip the line.” She said, adding a sway to her hips as she approached the mountain of a man standing in front of the door.  

Huh, he hadn't taken her for the seductre- ok fuck, she was threatening him.  

Otto let out a sigh as he walked over and grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulling her away as he took out the piece of paper Roman had given him.  

“We have a referral, let us in.”  

The bouncer brushed off his shirt as he looked the paper over, before giving a nod as he opened the door, letting the two in.  

The second they were inside Yang made to smack him on the back of the head, narrowly missing as he leaned forward to dodge the, frankly, predictable action.  

“The hell was that about, I had him!”  

“If by ‘Had him’ you mean, ‘Was about to get us thrown away and banned, then sure, you had him.”   

He stuck the girl with what he hoped was a vague approximation of one of Ocelots disappointed glares- Made a moot point thanks to the ever-present gasmask- Before laying into the girl.  

“Do you think you can just brute force this shit? I know damn well neither of us are here for legal reasons, so why the hell are you stomping around like you're the boss? Have you ever done something like this before?!”  

“What the hell do you mean by both of us?!”  

Was this girl really that new to this or was she just extraordinarily dumb?  

“First of all; you have shotguns strapped to your wrists, so you're obviously expecting a fight.  

Second; you were more than willing to attack the bouncer just to avoid a line, showing you don't give a damn about hurting random people for the sake of convenience.  

And third; You aren't nearly as good at hiding the fucking manilla folder you have, oh sorry, HAD in your back pocket.”  

As he said the last sentence, he held up the folder he had swiped from her while pulling her away from the bouncer.  

Without bothering to look at her reaction he popped the folder open and speed read through the first page.  

“Summer Rose, huh? You’re after someone then, and from the looks of things, you want it off the books.” He looked up into her shocked face, her mouth hanging open, “With that in mind, who are you working around? If this were a criminal hunt, you could use the normal channels, no, this is someone the big guys don’t want you looking for.”  

Otto chuckled to himself as he went over more of the file, it was actually kind of funny how cliché it was; Seemingly well-known and respected figure disappears out of nowhere, just for the people up top to do the bare minimum to investigate.  

 A ruthless bandit rises through the ranks a little too quickly for the chief’s liking.  

A well-known vigilante starts to shake up the status quo.  

A famed huntress digs a little too deep in the wrong places.  

It didn’t really matter where you were, as long as there was some form of hierarchy, there would always be stories just like this.  

Known family:  

• Tai Yang Xaio Long (Spouse) 
• Rose Xaio Long (Daughter) 
• Yang Xaio Long (Daughter) 

And just like the bandit’s follower and the vigilante’s protegee, the Huntress’ daughter was searching for answers.  

By all rights he really should let her do her own thing, eventually ‘disappearing’ like her mother, he did have better things to be doing right now...  

A bandit he may be, a thief, a trickster, a loud and proud criminal... but he still had his morals.  

“Ok, listen here,” he started snapping Yang out of her surprise, “we both know damn well you haven't got a clue what you're doing, and while your incompetence in everything illegal offends me, I still can’t stand by and watch you cause a scene cause you decided to threaten the goddamn info broker-” He snapped his fingers in her face to stop her rebuttal, “-none of that shit, we both know it was your plan. Consider this your first lesson; Don’t lie.”  

“Wait what?! But isn't that literally just what you're supposed to do?”  

“NO-” Dear god, what did she think this was, a damn movie? “Any criminal worth their salt knows a liar when they see one; in this kind of setting you don’t lie, you tell half-truths or say nothing at all,” he chided her, leading her through a small hallway connecting the front door and the main room.  

As they entered, Otto looked over the, frankly, massive dance floor; Neon lights covered almost every object in the room, throwing odd colors onto every surface. there was a massive crowd of people milling about, likely a mix of criminals, employees, and general party goers if this place was more than just a front for the broker.  

Speaking of which- It was disgustingly obvious who their ‘Host’ was, sitting behind the bar was a large man wearing a suit leagues better than any other employee.  

Yang tried to go towards him before Otto pulled her to a dark corner of the room.  

“Not so fast friend, we need to talk about how we’re doing this, how do you plan to get what you want?”  

“Um, well,” Yang scratched the back of her hand while she took a wallet from her pocket, “I just planned on asking if he had any info on my mom and was ganna pay for it with, well, cash.”  

…  

‘Paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiin’  

Otto rubbed the lenses of his gasmask as he desperately tried to sooth the pain in his sinuses, letting out a distressed sigh, “What- you were- WHAT- NO?!?!?!”  

“Holy shit, you really haven't got a damn clue how any of this works! Ok, times for lessons 2, 3, and 4!”  

By the Eyes, he wished he had some of Rahul’s markers and a conveniently placed white board.  

“Lesson 2; Never start with your actually target.  Don’t assume the big wigs don’t know places like this exist, they absolutely do, in fact, they probably make more use of it than just about anyone else! Because of this, your betters are constantly combing these places for people looking into their business, and to be blunt, you are a walking vault of red flags.   

The key is to start vague and work your way towards your target. Instead of ‘I'm looking for Summer Rose’, try ‘I'm looking into Hunters who have gone missing’, while it forces you to manually sift through a larger sum of info, you’re much less likely to get flagged, not to mention, you can find information you would miss otherwise.  

Lesson 3; Never state your relationship with your target . Simply put, this gives the broker a nice bit of intel on you, intel they could probably sell to someone else...like the people you are working around.  

Simply put, don't give any information that can link you to what you're searching for.  

Lesson 4; Money alone won't cut it. Remember, this guy is an INFO broker, and while money can definitely grease the wheels, bringing your own information to the table will always be worth more.  

Try to think of anything he isn't likely to already know; personal details of people of interest, cases of corruption, basically anything that a man can sell.  

Ok, that should do it for now, really didn’t think I was giving a goddamn seminar on criminal activity today.” Otto said, taking a deep breath after his tangent.  

Clapping could be heard over the blaring music, both Otto and Yang turning to the noise.  

Standing a bare few feet away from the two was Roman Torchwick, a coy smile on his face.  

“I knew I had made a good catch when we met on that train, but I had assumed it was a lump gold, not a diamond. Brilliantly put, friend of mine.”  

“Who the hell are you?” Yang bit out, giving the man a supposedly threatening stare.  

“No one of importance to you, I'm sure. I'm just here to pick up an acquaintance.”  

Otto nudged the girl towards the bar, giving her a nod. “Keep what I said in mind, and try not to get yourself killed.”  

He turned back to Torchwick as Yang walked away.  

“So, shall we chat?”  

“I think we shall.”  

Roman led him to one of the private booths, hidden from sight. Neo was already there, sipping out of some fruity looking cocktail- no, wait, that was an ice cream sundae... huh, he wondered if it would seem rude if he ordered one of those rather than alcohol.   

Roman grunt as he unceremoniously dropped into the booth, a pained look taking over his face as he tried to get comfortable. Noticing Ottos interest, the thief gave a dismissive wave.  

“Had some nasty luck when making our escape; group a huntsmen showed up and attacked us before realizing we weren't fang. Didn’t stop them from getting a lucky shot into the cockpit.” Roman took a sip out of a nearby bottle of... Cherry cola??? Before getting to the point.  

“Listen, while I’d love to do the normal run around with any new prospective business partner, my ass is on fire and I'm tired as hell, so I'll give you the abridged version; What do you want, what are you willing to do, and what do you bring to the table?”  

“General supplies, money, documents, and a base of operation.  

Anything not too noticeable; we aren't afraid to get out hands dirty but pissing off the authorities first thing isn't really on our to-do list.  

A trained surgeon and botanist, a skilled scout, a thief with more than a little engineering under his belt, and a weapons and armor manufacturer... all of which are more than skilled enough to hold their own in a fight.”  

Roman seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.  

“So, a nice little strike force willing to do anything as long as there aren't any cameras... I can work with that.”   

The master thief took a small tablet from his pocket, scrolling through some holographic screen.  

“Ok, documents and supplies won't be too hard; hell, I technically still owe you for the help on the train, so consider it on the house. A base and money though? That will take a bit more work...How does this sound; I've got a nice little apartment in the warehouse district I can shack you guys up in, it aint too nice but it's got the necessities, after that, I'll pay you guys on commission. We’ll start small though, don’t want to throw you into the deep end just yet, so before I send you on your way, here.” Roman handed him a set of files he was keeping in his jacket. “I need someone to scope out a couple of Dust stores by next Tuesday, get it done and you'll have your first ‘care package’ within the week. The address for the apartment is in the files, now get out of my sight, I have a bed to collapse into.”  

Otto took the files as he walked away, leaving the night club and making his way towards the current FOB...he hoped...  

Nah, he was ganna get lost again.  

Might as well wait for Ocelot to come find him.  

Speaking of the soldier, he wondered what the others were up to.  

---  

Rafaelrizo98: Avriel – Yes! Both Xalius and I have beaten Remnant: From the ashes on both normal and Perma-death! It was surprisingly fun, despite the pain. Admittedly, this fic does take a few creative liberties with both source materials, but well be sticking to canon world systems for the most part...for now.  

Alrighty, that’s CH2 done! Next up we have the adventures of Ocelot and Thatcher as they dick around in Vale, followed by their first few weeks in the city; See you lot next time  

1* FOB = Forward Operating Base  

Chapter Text

Avriel- OOH BOY, this was a long one, Sorry about the wait. I actually meant to have this up a while ago but forgot to post it. The stuff RT was (and is) going through has really harmed my desire to work with anything RWBY.  

Xalius- Yeah, this IS a long one.  

-----------------------------------  

Mission status -   

Acquire map of area: Complete   

Locate Otto, 1hr: Complete (Otto is lost, laugh at him)  

Map out sewer/Subterranean systems: Complete  

Locate Otto (again), 2hr: Complete (Still lost)  

Mark areas of interest: In progress  

Enjoy Otto getting lost, 3hr: Incomplete  

Munitions status -   

Hunting rifle: Ready  

Repeater pistol: ready  

Chain Blade: Ready  

45-70: 10+40  

.357 magnum: 15+105  

Throwing Knives: 6  

Utility Knives: 3  

Frag Grenade: 2  

Smoke grenade: 2  

First aid kit: Ready  

Areas of interest -   

Vale Public Library(s): 5 public libraries posted at the 4 cardinal directions and city center. Easy access to intelligence on both the world and local area. (Check over all data acquired by Rahul, there is a decent chance he has mixed up fiction and non-fiction...again)  

Juniors: Night club/Info broker, make sure Ottos map has this highlighted (Or don’t, its funnier that way)  

Vale Docks: Primary access to coastal transport/cargo, surprisingly under defended for such a vital point. A distinct difference in both construction and atmosphere can be found between the civilian zone and the commercial zone; appearance seems to matter greatly in Vale.  

Vale North station: Primary access to land-based transport/cargo, original point of arrival for-  

Ocelot set the pencil down as he looked over the station [Brick walls provide cover, exposed areas provide a shooting gallery] , the street lights outside giving it an orange-yellow glow. Despite it being late at night, there were still people going in and out as their inner-city trains got them home from work {Too many Targets to gauge possible hostiles} .   

It was... nice, being able to just sit and watch for once [Wasting time] . Too often these missions quickly dissolved into shoot outs with bandits, or quick flurries of combat against whatever horror had made its home on the given planet. For once, he could just sit back and relax on top of a building, just watching the people go about their evening.  

He both loved and hated these missions; Loved them, because he could run around and make his lists in relative peace, no teammates to banter with or enemies to shoot. Hated them, because while the work was fun, it was dreadfully lonely.  

{Lacking allied support; Show extreme caution}  

Ocelot wasn’t an idiot; he knew his team always gave him these missions for a reason. He was the team's only real map maker, was the most experienced in scouting, and the only one who could efficiently traverse the city in any decent amount of time. [Streets are too open, perfect for an ambush]  

The scout snapped out of his thoughts and prepared to move, watching the form dash across his sightline.  

His {Target} jumped from a roof a little way away, performing great [Unnecessary] feats of acrobatics as she flipped about.  

He had been tracking her for most of the night while he went about completing his given objectives.  

 { Locals lacking in proper dis-information efforts; All tourist assistance points held accurate up-to-date data}  

He had first caught sight of her after his first checkup on the (very) lost Otto, having seen a glint of white shoot across the roofs [Theoretical: Target is intentionally baiting others to follow] . At first, he had thought it to be some floating piece of trash, but once he got a better look, he found it to be a... shittily dressed ninja girl.  

Funnily enough, having large amounts of white on your outfit does not assist you when attempting stealth. [Theoretical: prey may wish to be seen as an intimidation tactic]   

He would admit, the [Prey] intrigued him. Her clothing, her lack of meaningful equipment beyond the blade at her side, the lack of awareness; They all painted the picture of someone lacking skill, a local going on a free run when people were least likely to raise a fuss... But as time wore on, that seemed less and less the case. He spotted her several times afterward as she leapt from building to building with grace and speed that required years of work, she knew how to use the shadows to remain unseen to those below, she had even managed to move so unpredictably that he couldn’t pin down her destination... He would admit, the girl intrigued him, and that made this fun.   

And he was still able to complete his objectives while keeping an eye on her, so there was no downside to this break in the operation.  

[The hunt is more important; this distraction means nothing]  

{Mission Requirement: Gather information on local area}  

{Possibility of Target bearing useful information: High}  

The [Prey] {Target} GIRL came to a stop on top of a large residential complex situated near the top of Vale. Seeming to forgo all of her previous stealth, the girl slowly walked towards the buildings edge, resting her hands on her hips as she came to a stop, looking down on the city.  

Not exactly a smart move given that even if he hadn't been a mere two roofs away, he still would have been able to see her form against the night sky.  

Then the {Target} began...talking...to nothing, while aggressively pacing back and forth. [Theoretical: Unseen entity nearby]  

That... was noticeably more worrying. Up until this point the girl could have just been a local with a love of parkour and a bit more skill than average, but now he wasn’t so sure.  

Ocelot drew his repeater pistol and readied a knife as he made his way closer, a relatively easy task; years of working around semi-sentient root monsters, dessert mutants, and giant bugs paying dividends as he flew from roof to roof undetected, easily sneaking up behind the girl, hiding behind a nearby HVAC unit.  

“-Then Adam just had to go ahead with that stupid fucking train assault -”  

Ah, perhaps his stalking of some random person wasn’t that pointless; This must be one of those involved in the train attack.   

Hmm, a lack of survivors had annoyed him at the time, so much information lost to the bloodbath that had been that battle...time to rectify that mistake.  

[Prey appears emotionally unstable; Intimidation and surprise should be useful]  

{Negative: Target is armed. Surprise and instability will lead to combat}  

{Mission Requirement: Remain Undetected. We lack proper tools to detain while within parameters}  

{Suggested approach: Reveal presence and initiate non-hostile interaction}  

That was... actually a pretty good idea. The soldier in him usually just escalates things.   

Ocelot, his mind made, stepped out from behind the HVAC-  

Just to immediately freeze as he remembered a VERY important fact:  

HE HASNT TALKED TO ANYONE OTHER THAN THE OTHER 3 IDIOTS IN YEARS.  

[Flee]  

{Mission Abort}  

It was clearly too late to turn back as the girl became aware of his being there, snapping towards him before freezing as well.  

The two just stood there for several moments, completely unmoving as they just stared at each other, neither sure of what to do.  

[Good news: Prey is socially awkward as well]  

{Bad news: We are too awkward to make use of this information}  

The girl suddenly straightened up, attempting to adopt a relaxed posture; utterly ruined by how tense her muscles were.  

“Uh, can I... help you?” She asked, doing her best to figure a way out of the situation.  

“Yes; I am attempting to have an amicable conversation with you as a way to extract information.”   

… He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud.  

“Why would you...” She stops speaking as she squints at him, taking in his red greatcoat and hood, “Oh shit, you’re one of the psychopaths that slaughtered the Maw.” Her eyes widen as she says it, her breath coming faster.  

[Prey is aware of the hunter]  

{Prepare for comba-  

“Nice job.” A small smile appears on her face as the words leave her mouth.  

Ocelots hand froze where it had begun to finger his pistols trigger.  

Of all the reactions he expected...  

She lets out a chuckle at his apparent shock, body finally relaxing.   

“I was trying to stop that fiasco myself but got baited by Ad-” The girl seemed to stumble over her words, “-by the Lieutenant and missed my chance. Thought I had just majorly fucked up, but then I heard those slug shooters firing off and my CO ran in a hurry. Only got a brief look at the aftermath before I had to run myself, and like I said, nice job. Haven't seen a slaughter like that in years.”  

{Good news: Target is morally fucked as well}  

[That certainly makes this easier]  

“...Understood.” Ocelot paused as he collected himself, letting the pistol fall to his side. He may not have been able to deal with some random civvies, but this... this was a Soldier. “In that case, would you mind answering a few questions for me? We were unable to extract much information from the corpses, so having the full details of the operation would be useful. Consider it a ‘debriefing’, of sorts.” And he knew how soldiers worked.  

She let out a sigh as she walked away from the edge, waving for him to follow. “Sure, but let's get something to eat while we’re at it. I’m starving and haven't eaten anything other than MREs for weeks, not since our cook got shot back in Atlas. I saw a bar on my way here, come on”  

---  

Ocelot followed the soldier in, quickly casing out the room as she went to grab a seat: Dark wood that lined the walls and made up the tables was old but well cared for, giving the place a rustic feel further helped by the yellowing light bulbs overhead. The surfaces looked clean, the glasses well washed, and there was a distinct odor of alcohol in the air. Depending on the prices and quality of drink, he may have to note this place down for later.  

Luckily for both he and the girl, the place was nearly dead, far too late in the night save for those who had nothing better to do with their lives and-  

{Allied medic detected}  

...and this fucker.  

Standing at the bar alongside two woman was Rahul, gleeful malice on his face. The reason why was made quite simple, as a rabbit-eared(?) girl sat cringing at whatever Rahul and the other lady were saying.  

[Suggestion: avoid the botanist. He will only make the prey more likely to flee]  

{Negative: Rahul has multiple substances which will make interrogation easier. Contact him immediately}  

Ah, there was the escalation.  

{Bastard}  

Regardless, he had no intention of getting wrapped up in... whatever the cultist was doing. The man barely made much sense on a good day, and today...wasn't one of those.  

“Hey, you-” Ocelot shushed the {Target} before she could give him away, motioning for her to lead him to their table while she shot him an odd look.  

Sitting down, the girl let out a puff of air, seeming uncomfortable in her own clothes.   

“I suppose we should begin with introductions, ya? I'm E-4 Specialist Belladonna, er, Blake being my first name. I work as the main scout and right hand of the Lieutenant for the 12 th Red Maw Battalion, also known as the Bulls Blood; edgy, I know. I've served for most of my life, transferring from the greater White Fang alongside the Lieutenant himself after we decided that ‘peace’ was no longer an option...” She grimaces, “Biggest mistake of my life. I went from a bright-eyed freedom fighter to a blood-soaked terrorist. Only shaped up and did something recently.” Blake leaned back with a sigh before nodding at him, “What about you?”  

{Cover story: Inconclusive. Target is too smart for standard cover to work.}  

{Suggestion: Meld Truth and Fiction}  

“Ocelot Columbia, E-4 Specialist.” Truthfully, he had no last name, by the time he was born such a tradition had fallen out of practice. Most now just carried their home as their name; Thatcher of the Scrapper Clan became Thatcher Scrapper. So, he would be Ocelot Columbia, after the DCR (District of Columbia Revivalists).  

“While I was enlisted in the DCR, I served under no specific unit due to my work: My primary duty was the elimination of hostile threats, be they man or beast, as ordered of me via a variety of dead-drops. I was born into this effort, and raised with little to no other intention than to serve my home. After a few years, orders... changed. For reasons I am not comfortable giving to a non-affiliated force, I may add. This led to me joining my current...” Ocelot Hesitated, “...Unit”   

Gaggle of idiots more like.  

Blake raised an eyebrow, “DCR?”  

“It's a small group that used to be further into the mountain range.” He quickly covered.  

“Hmm.” She gave a grunt as she stood, “Alright, what you want to eat? I wanna get some food cooking before we start the debrief.”  

“Not sure what's normal in the area, get me something light.”  

“Spicy as hell it is, then.”  

Ocelot chuckled at her response, Leaning back in his seat.   

This was... refreshing. It had been years since he had truly sat down with another soldier, even if it was over a fairly serious topic. He wouldn’t say he disliked the banter and style of his team, but there was just something different about those who had fought in a military. A kind of kinship his brothers couldn’t really know.  

As a wanderer, you did as you pleased.  

As a soldier, you got orders...  

...even if you didn’t like them.  

It was a minute or two before Blake came back two cups of some odd liquid in her hands.  

Setting the glasses down she began collecting herself.  

“Here, thought I'd get us something nice before we started the talk.”  

{We have not seen the acquiring of this liquid; Beware of harmful agents}  

[It is unwise to be inebriated while stalking prey, but it will acquire us social points]  

Ocelot bit the bullet and took a sip of the... fudge sundae... Not what he thought she was getting, but he wasn’t complaining. Either way, the antidotes that Rahul gave him could cure almost anything, so it didn’t matter if she had put anything in the drink.  

“Ok, where to start...” Blake bit her bottom lip as she tapped the table, nervousness wafting off of her.  

“I believe it would be best to gain an understanding of your orders before the operation itself.” Ocelot offered.  

“Yeah, that’s...yeah.” She cleared her throat, “As I was told beforehand, the plan was simple: Forward teams would block the tracks well before hand, forcing the train to make an emergency stop. Assault squads would then charge the vehicle, eliminating any guards but leaving others unharmed. Squads would then locate and capture an un-identified member of the Schnee corporation who would be held for ransom... but from the looks of things, that’s not how it went.”   

No shit.  

“A bomb was set on the tracks which forced the train to crash. Assault squads attacked the train killing ALL living entity's, armed or not. The target was Weiss Schnee, who would then be executed live on scene.”  

She grimaced at his recollection of the incident.  

“Damnit... shoulda known my orders were too good to be true. I think the Lieutenant was suspicious of me for a while and was trying to bait me into fucking up. Which, well, kinda happened.”  

They sat silently for a second, before Ocelot asked: “What exactly happened that led you to fully deserting?”  

“In terms of what broke the Ursa's back? It was more of a compounding of things. We had steadily grown more blood thirsty as time went on, our recruitment changed from volunteers to conscripts, and the Lieutenant...”   

Blake seemed to become extremely uncomfortable as she reached the final point, cringing and pulling at her clothes.  

“The Lieutenant became... possessive. Not just of our unit, but of me . Hell, you see this get up that I'm in? I wear it on his orders because it makes me look ‘Attractive’.”  

Well, that was...  

{Concerning?}  

[Disgusting?]  

...Utterly enraging.  

“On the day of the train raid, I was told that the Lieutenant and I would board the train before it reached the blockage. Recently, those Dust transports have started carrying high-tech security bots that the rank-and-file can't really deal with, so a more specialized hand was needed. Funnily enough, aura is pretty damn good at soaking up precise weapons fire. MY plan was to...well.” Blake goes quiet as she looks down, the bow on her head flattening(?), “I tried talking him out of it... I knew he wasn’t stable by that point, but I DID hold genuine feelings for him... It was only after he called me his ‘pet’ that I drew my blade.”  

…  

Ocelot was not someone who enjoyed the act of murder. To him, when done righteously, it was little more than a chore... but he would enjoy slaughtering this Lieutenant.  

It wasn’t just the blatant perversion and mania, it was the abuse of station; even if Blake hadn't reciprocated his affections, it was obvious the man would make her do these things anyway...military leaders didn’t normally make their scouts wear fetish clothing.  

“...I see.” Ocelot did everything in his power to hold down his rage, but some still seeped through. “I think we can bring this interrogation to a close, if I need any further information, I can contact you at a later date. I was mostly after the Maws motive for today.” He took a sip of his drink as he finished.  

An awkward silence descended on the table as their food arrived, the waitress giving him some spice filled noodles of some kind that set his mouth on fire just the way he liked it, neither really sure on what to do after that conversation.  

“...If that outfit is what your CO ordered you into, why are you still wearing it? You're clearly uncomfortable.” Ocelot said, desperately trying to stifle the heavy atmosphere.  

Blake jumped slightly at his question, before letting out a groan.  

“You think I would be wearing this if I had a choice? He told me to put this on before we went out, and I can't exactly waltz back into base to get a change of clothes after trying to stab my boss.”  

{Fair}  

[Fair]  

“...fair.”  

Despite the annoyance in her voice, the question did seem to lighten the atmosphere... which was immediately ruined by a call from across the bar.  

“Ocelot, is that you over there? Quick, I need help making more light puns!”  

“Will you stop?!?!?”   

The soldiers head slammed down onto the table, a groan escaping his lips.  

...  

He still had to go grab Otto after this.  

Great.  

---  

The Schnee Tech Long Range Missile system, or the STLRM for short, was in theory a magnificent weapon.  

It fired up to 120 Fragmentation missiles, each weighing around 24 pounds. These missiles, with the assistance of a guiding laser or firing solution, could strike down both hordes and tanks alike with precision at over 40 kilometers.  

The Warheads could also be detonated in flight, releasing large sums of shrapnel into the surrounding area making it perfect for fighting any foe; whether they came from the land, air, or sea.  

...or rather.  

They could.  

Had it not been for the rust eating away at the metal beast.   

Thatcher stood at the edge of the docks, staring up at the seemingly abandoned missile system. The poor thing looked like it hadn't been properly maintenance in years; rust clung to almost every joint, dirt and dust had dulled the shining metal, and the years left uncovered had caused some strange moss to begin growing on it.  

Had it been just this one defensive tool, it would have been... not ‘fine’, per say, but excusable. It could have simply been an obsolete system that had been replaced, and subsequently left to rot...   

...But it wasn’t.  

Almost every defensive tool that surrounded the city was 3 things:  

Old.  

Un-cared for.  

Non-functioning.  

It felt like a joke.  

It felt like an insult .  

For the past 3 hours since Thatcher had left his Battle Brothers, he had done nothing but seek out the armament of this ‘Vale’, and to say he was disgusted would be underselling it.  

Its long-range artillery barely functioned; therefore, its army was picking up the slack, right?  

No. The Vale Defense Force had been disbanded almost 90 years ago, having been seen as ‘Too Aggressive’ by the council who were scared of a second Great War. The fools.  

So, Vale had no artillery.  

So, Vale had no army.  

So, what was keeping Vale alive?  

It couldn’t be the near barren wall, whose guns had long been silent.  

It couldn’t be the Frontier Legion, who decided to go against the council's word and refused to disband the VDF, going into exile to the frontiers.  

His answer came easily, yet disturbed him greatly;  

The only force protecting Vale was the Huntsmen.  

These glorified scouts.  

These wretched excuses for warriors, using weapons too complex to ever be practical.  

These singular men and woman, who seemed to fight for no greater goal than the paycheck gained from their bounty's.  

THESE WERE VALES FIRST AND ONLY DEFENCE.  

The rage boiled in his blood as he glared at the rusted artillery piece, as if his stare would suddenly turn the machine pristine and fresh from the forge.  

From what the berserker could see, the only reason Vale yet stood was the sheer number of huntsmen, and the depths of its pockets.  

Atlas bore the world's greatest army, situating itself within a massive floating fortress of a city.  

Vacuo’s very ground was hazardous to life, scorching both man and beast alike.  

Mistral sat within the mountains and swamps, its strong warrior culture ensuring its defense forces never lacked numbers.  

But Vale...  

Vale survived off of the recourses it could give; for it was the only city that sat on plentifully fertile land. In payment, the other nations would hire out their warriors to ‘cleanse’ the areas near their borders, assisting the ‘huntsmen’ in keeping the city safe.  

Complacency had caused Vale to rust, and he was certain the city would soon realize that fact.  

Turning away, Thatcher continued his march across the docks, looking down at the list of objectives he had been given.  

Grade Vales static defenses  

‘What weapons systems are present are outdated and uncared for. They are unlikely to function if Vale attempts to use them.’  

Grade Vales active defense force  

‘Non-Applicable. The VDF was disbanded and their replacement, the Vale Guard, is under staffed and underfunded.’  

Grade Vales ability to survive invasion  

‘Unless a third party intervenes (FL, or allied kingdoms) Vale will be completely incapable of defense past a higher-than-average number of huntsmen. While normally I would ascribe this to the Huntsmen's leader attempting a power play, it seems far more to be an act of desperation made by a man less blind than the rest of the council. If only this “Headmaster” had control of Vales military as well.’  

‘In conclusion, Vale is utterly defenseless, a fact that all but the council seems to know. My findings have shown that the council (or at least an influential member) have consistently drained recourses and funding from defense efforts, instead pumping them into seemingly random proposals and plans; Possibility of corruption is high, but the ability to do something about it is negligible beyond assassination or full revolution. Any move made by parties intending to increase military support appears to end in constant delays and payouts.’  

Thatcher clipped the pen to his belt with a sigh, this had been draining . At his core, Thatcher was a protector. To see a city so vulnerable to its enemy's... stressed him out.  

It appeared to do the same to the many veterans he had met on his stroll: As it turns out, the military's lack of funding extended to its veterans after enlisting, as the vast majority of career Vale military men had either left to join Atlas or been shoved into low paying jobs at the docks. A fact that made his job much easier, given all of the people he needed to talk to were sat in one place...   

‘Make note: Possibility of career Veterans being funneled into dock work? Nothing solid, but needs looking into. Such disgrace to this city's protectors makes my stomach twist into knots.’  

Bells jingled as he roughly pushed through the door in front of him, revealing a small arms shop.  

Weapons, armor, implements of violence...they were the few things that truly calmed him. The intricate mechanics of each lever, cog, and blade. The beauty of the bullets falling into their chambers. The satisfaction and sweat that adorned his body when he finally completed a craft.  

He was supposed to spend his whole time just looking at the travesty that was Vales defenses, but...  

He’s sure his Brothers would forgive a brief respite, as long as it brought lasting victory.  

---  

Thatcher was going to fucking murder someone.  

It SEEMED that in all the Huntsmen's ECCENTRICITY that they had managed to COMPLETELY FUCK UP PERFECTLY GOOD WEAPONS DESIGN.  

NO, THE BAYONET DOES NOT NEED A FUCKING ‘~MECHASHIFT~’ SYSTEM TO SLIDE FORWARD. IT JUST NEEDS TO BE ATTACHED TO THE FRONT OF THE FUCKING GUN.  

WHO THE HELL DESIGNED A SPEAR, RIFLE, SWORD COMBINATION WEAPON??? IN WHICH ALL 3 MODES WERE SEPARATE FUCKING FORMS.  

THIS SHIT WOULD BREAK LESS THAN 5 SECONDS ON THE FIELD-  

“Hey, uh, mister?” Thatcher briefly came out of his UNRELENTING RAGE to see a small red headed girl tugging on his pauldron. She wore a heavy leather apron and had a welding mask flipped up on her head, thick gloves adorned her hands and a belt of tools sat around her waist. She was hesitantly looking up at him, worry in her eyes. “Are you...alright? You look a bit... upset.”  

“ Oh,” The Berserker blinked at the girl, the action going unseen within his shadowed visor, and patted her on the head. “You have no need to worry little one, I'm just a little bit absolutely livid.”  

She looks confused for a second, somewhat worried at the hand on her head, before looking at the display behind him and grimacing, “Ooooh, you saw the new ‘VG MK5 Battle rifle’.” She shudders as she says the words. “That thing is a mess covered in over complex junk added for the sole purpose of making it ‘futuristic’ and ‘high tech’. Whatever idiot actually decided that thing should be put into production has got to be down a few braincells. It's even worse that it’s the Vale Guards new standard battle rifle... ”  

Wait it’s the-  

“AAAAGH!”   

Thatcher let out a roar and slammed his head into the nearest wall before quickly tearing his journal from his side.  

‘Make Note: I don’t care whether that dumbfuck, backward, mouth breathing, sword dulling, sub-literate FUCK of a councilman is engineering the fall of this city or is just plain stupid, he will DIE’  

With a loud clap the journal slammed close and was clipped back to Thatcher's side, a thousand murder plots directed at a still un-known politicians life running through his skull.  

“You aren't from around here huh?” The girl said, a sad smile adorning her face. “If you were, you would have learned about it months ago: The Vale Guard tried to make this huge propaganda movement around the thing when they first adopted it. ‘The technology of Atlas and the Ingenuity of Vale’ was the tagline, just ignore the fact the thing was made and designed in Mistral as an art piece.”  

With every passing word Thatcher found his reality growing ever more distressing.  

“...Small Girl-”  

“Rose.”   

“...Rose-” He amended. “Does this store happen to have a shooting range?”  

She gave him a wary look and leaned away before pointing him towards a door in the back of the building.  

“U-uh, are you going to be alright?” She asked.  

“Oh... yes .” Thatcher slug his shotgun off his back, racking a shell as the underslung Yeasha crystal crackled to life, “I just have some shit to work through.  

---  

All Rose wanted to do today was swing by Vale, check out the gun store (specifically the masterwork section, it was really the only one worth checking nowadays), and maybe get some cookies and ice cream before catching the bullhead home.   

And hey, if she could drag her big sister home for the weekend, then that was even better!  

But no, instead, here she sat, trying to dim the ringing in her ears as the foreigner unloaded slug after slug (and holy SHIT was that terrifying, it wasn’t every day you saw someone swinging around illegal ammo) into some poor innocent target dummy.  

The man's lead belcher was as brutal as the PSAs’ made them out to be: smoke wafting out of the burning iron barrel, each shot deafening her as if she stood next to an explosive as it went off.  

Each round of the spread-slugs (stupid name!) tore another chunk out of the Faux Beowulf, ensuring it would never see its family again, the poor thing...  

Wait.  

That’s a good thing, right?  

…  

“Send it screaming straight to hell like the devil himself was chasing it down!”  

Rather than be perturbed by her outburst like most people she had met, the foreigner let out a great laugh before using the under-barrel Dust(?) crystal to fire a great blue bolt of lightning, disintegrating the target!  

...which is weird, cause lightning Dust is supposed to make yellow bolts.  

Everything about the man was off to her, not just the strange color of his Dust: The way he held himself as though expecting an attack from any corner, the heavy armor that most huntsmen refused to wear as the only thing it blocked that aura didn’t was Dust, the... aura breaking... slug rounds...  

Roses eyes widened as she tugged on the head Grimm-hunters pauldron.  

“Hey, uh, big-guy-”  

“Thatcher”  

“...Thatcher-” She amended. “What is it you, uh, hunt, exactly?”  

The giant lowered his aim, letting the last smoking shell pop out of his belcher, before looking to her. Even through the darkened visor, she could feel his heavy gaze, some ancient long forgotten sense telling her to run.  

 They stayed like that for several long seconds before he spoke again, the breach of silence sending shivers down Roses spine.  

“Tell me, little Rose,” His words came out cold and devoid of emotion, as if the boisterous and loud man she had met had been replaced by a dark golem of death, “What is the difference between a monster and a beast?”  

Every muscle in her body was frozen ridged with fear, and what little force she could muster only provided her a light ‘meep’ before quickly fleeing.  

“The beast is an animal.” He continued, “A creature without higher thought... without will ...and such, without sin. ”  

Ever so slowly, Thatcher pulled another tube of shells from his side, a small ‘snap’ drowning the room as they disconnected from his belt.  

“The Grimm, little Rose, are beasts. They act without thought, only doing what they were designed to do. They hunt, they kill, they die, for it is the only thing they can do.”  

With a single motion, the goliath slammed the shells home, the belcher letting out a loud ‘SNAP’ as it racked a shell.  

“A monster on the other hand... a monster chooses to do what it does. It chooses to kill, for no other reason than that it willed it so.”  

Thatcher realigned his target, aiming the lead belcher down range, almost seeming to savor the anticipation of the shot.  

“And thus, through the will to do wrong, does the monster sin.”  

With that final word he let the round loose, the hailstorm of burning metal pellets turning the man’s Beowulf’s head to molten slag. As the targets head smoked, the thing turned to her, once more staring her in the eyes, its irises sparking with an unnatural blue light.  

“Tell me, little Rose, what on this world can be a monster?” 

“I know...”  

The Berserker tilted its head at her. “What was that?”  

“I SAID I KNOW” Rose shouted, causing Thatcher to lean back slightly. “You think I haven't had this conversation with my father and uncle a dozen times?! I KNOW that huntsmen do more than fighting Grimm, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!”  

Tears were falling from her eyes now, obscuring her vision as she went on a tirade.  

“And so what if a person does something wrong?! What if they were raised into it or didn’t have a choice?! Don’t they deserve a chance? You don’t have to kill them!”  

Rose heard the clanking of metal as she tried to shove the tears out of her eyes, before a weight fell on her arm. As she looked up, vision still blurred from tears, she saw that Thatcher had set down his weapon and knelt before her, laying a hand on her shoulder.  

“Young one, I understand that this may be... hard to discuss. I went too far, I see that now, one such as you should not have to think of such things for a good deal of time now.” The timber of his voice had grown soft from the gargling hate filled edge of before, the lightning in his eyes utterly absent. “My duty is not one for the faint of heart, and I can sometimes forget that. While some would call you naive for such thoughts, I would be pressed to disagree: I hope that you never let go of that innocence, that wish to save not just the good, but the evil too.”  

He stood then, ruffling her hair as he turned towards the nearby weapons bench. “The universe has enough men like me; I think it's about time we got more like you .” He let out a chuckle as he took out his notebook and a few strange looking pencils. “Now then, if I'm not mistaken, most warriors need a weapon, yes?”  

Rose nodded at him as her sniffles died down.  

“Well, how about I help you get yours ready?”  

-----------------------------------  

A study of Dust ~ High Lord (Via elimination) Thatcher of the Scrapper war clan  

]  

Fire Dust (FD) – Upon activation, produces an incredible sum of heat, brilliant for incendiary weaponry  

Ice Dust (ID) - Upon activation, rapidly reduces heat of surrounding area, can quickly induce hypothermia (Mix with WD to create ice structures)  

Water Dust (WD) - Upon activation, crystal will shatter into a flood of water  

Lightning Dust (LD) - Upon activation, lets out a large burst of electricity  

Gravity Dust (GD) - Upon activation, lets out a large sum of force in the surrounding area  

At its base, Dust is a highly versatile tool perfect for powering machines or laying elemental damage upon the enemy. While the standard abilities of each type initially seem weak, they can be refined by mixing the different variants or simply altering how they are deployed.  

These “Dust mixtures” are odd in-of themselves, let's take Lightning Dust; Rather than simply adding electricity to another Dusts power, LD appears to ‘Empower’ other Dust types.  

FD + LD Will lead to violent explosions  

ID + LD Will almost instantly freeze a given area, often leading to the instant death of anything caught in its attack  

GD + LD Seems to invert the effect of GD, causing it to create an implosion of force rather than an explosion  

This appears consistent with all Dust types, each one adding a unique effect: Remember to find which one is the primary(P) and which is the boost(b) P > b  

The primary downside to dust we have noticed so far is simple: Outside of GD, Dust has little to no impact force due to how its bullets are constructed.  

Unlike a normal bullet (Or slug, as the Remnites call it) Dust Rounds are comprised of a small glass(?) crystal that is shot forward at high speeds. This crystal requires FAR less pressure to fire and tends to shatter on impact; perfect for using the Dusts element, but utterly useless for breaching any form of armor.  

In fact, armor appears to completely negate most of the effects of Dust based weaponry (save LD under certain circumstances) unless an incredible quantity is used.  

-Rahul: At first, the Huntsmen's complete lack of armor seems strange due to armor’s ability to negate Dust rounds, but it actually has a strong place in their culture.  After the great war, anyone who used armor was seen as “Targeting” other humans and was thusly feared. To get around this, Huntsmen began relying solely on their aura to not panic the civilians they were protecting. Even the current Atlas military (The only standing army on the planet???) Doesn't use true armor, its soldiers usually just wearing a type of padding to stop blunt force.  

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So ya, we may or may not have massively rewritten a few characters...  

Say hello to Blake Belladonna, ex-militant of the red maw and general psychopath trying to figure out what it's like to be, well, not that.  

And Rose Xaio Long, a skilled engineer and weaponsmith with an intense love for her craft (and not the “We’ll mention this once or twice” treatment from cannon)