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Two Wrongs Make a Right Ch.20
🕑 Added 2024-10-09 18:48:57 +0000 UTCAfter an operation like that, it’s obvious everyone needs rest and a small celebration for our outstanding success.
I surveyed the progress in those few days, and the builder has worked fast, as expected. A new barracks stands ready to house a good number of our troops, though I can’t give him all the credit. Everyone pitched in, eager for a decent place to sleep and a proper bed after so long trapped in tents with mattresses on the ground. With that, it was obvious they would achieve something like that so fast.
Also, more supplies and weapons arrived with the builder, along with plans for a proper storage room among other buildings, like an infirmary. I can say for sure that things are looking up for the Mistral outpost.
But that’s for them, the White Fang. As for me, I still have plenty of work to do. One of such tasks is serving as Ilia’s bodyguard, along with a small but veteran squad, as we head towards one of the now fallen Hitsui family plantations, now the property of the Spider clan.
We’re going to that place because we recently got a call from the clan through their comm channel. A quick explanation made it clear that they have no use for the plantations or the workforce, so they’re letting everyone go. Both faunus and humans made up that workforce, which now has no purpose besides draining their resources, so they thought it prudent to call us to handle the faunus population. Probably a gesture of goodwill.
But I know better. It’s more like they don’t want to deal with the responsibility and workload of just sending everyone off, and this is just one of the ruined family’s many plantations.
One of the Albain brothers would have been perfect to handle this mission, but Ilia was picked instead. Because she asked for it, and even was insistent about taking charge for this mission. I only accepted her request because I’d be there supervising everything, making sure she’d be safe and things went as smoothly as possible.
Another reason I accepted her request was because I wanted to see how she handles the situation and how she develops. She needs to stand on her own, after all. But if worse comes to worst, I’ll take over.
We keep the journey in silence, leaving the outpost behind and venture into the jungle, my eyes constantly scanning our surroundings. I’m vigilant for anything—Grimm or enemy soldiers—but there are none until we reach the many dirt roads that connect the towns and villages of the area. Thankfully.
Eventually, following the dirt road, the wooden fences of the plantation come into view. Everyone quickens their pace, tension thick in the air, expecting for anything to happen. We reach the main gate, or what’s left of it. It’s been burnt down, the charred remains still smoldering. On top of the ruins stand two men dressed in purple jackets and scarves, openly carrying assault rifles.
Their eyes lock onto us, fingers twitching near triggers, causing everyone to tighten their grip on their own weapons, ready to fight back if the situation devolves into a skirmish. And we have numerical advantage, so it would be quick.
Ilia, however, maintains her cool demeanor. She steps forward, chin held high, and stands before the clan guards.
“We’re here for our people,” she states firmly. “Stand aside.”
The guards exchange a look before nodding and stepping sideways to give us access. It’s almost unnecessary; the destruction is so complete we could have entered through any gap in the ruined fence, but this is more like a formality and to announce our arrival as well.
As we pass through, the remains of what is left of the plantation come into view. Entire swaths of land have been burnt to cinders, some still smoking, the smell of burnt crops pretty strong in some parts. Vehicle wrecks litter the area, their fires long extinguished, leaving only useless scrap. Some buildings are nothing more than ruins and debris, clearly caused by powerful explosions.
The Spider clan didn’t just take over - they obliterated this place, they didn’t hold back.
We follow the road towards the main complex and it’s a hive of activity, with men carrying debris to a growing trash pile or dumping bodies into a hastily dug hole. More clan members keep watch from various vantage points, including the top of the manor.
The workers are fully focused on their current job to pay any attention to our arrival, but that isn’t the case for the guards who have their sight on us. But I don’t pay much attention to it as I’m more interested in the work being done here.
I can say that their cleanup is rather inefficient, a tractor or even a pickup truck would have helped a lot instead of relying entirely on people manually taking it, or perhaps they caused more destruction than intended during their assault. It’s not our concern, though. We keep moving until we reach a small plaza where a woman approaches my childhood friend.
She’s dressed in strange clothes, a tight-fitting gray crop top and pants, but the long purple scarf and purple glasses mark her as a clan member. She carries a big clipboard and exudes an air of authority.
“You must be the White Fang representative,” she says, inclining her head slightly. “I’m the current overseer. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance in the name of the clan.”
Ilia nods curtly. “Your matron said she wanted to return our people. Where are they?”
I approve of her directness. No need for pleasantries here.
The overseer adjusts her glasses, pointing to a distant building. “Everyone is currently held in the barn.”
I focus on the structure. Guards are stationed at the large door, with another on the roof. Containing everyone in one place - not comfortable, but efficient for their purposes. But I cannot help but raise an eyebrow for their choice of place. I don’t know if this is a deliberate choice to provoke a reaction from us or I’m just overthinking things.
“Show us,” Ilia orders, keeping her attitude.
The woman’s lips tighten, clearly not appreciating her tone, but she nods and takes the lead. As we follow, I keep my senses alert, the same could be said by the squad as this handover could still go sideways at any moment.
The repurposed barn looms closer. As we approach, the guards quickly move aside, their eyes darting between us and their overseer, expecting her to say something and she merely raises her hand and performs a strange hand sign and everyone relaxes their stance.
The overseer reaches the barn first and opens the large doors after unlocking them, gesturing for us to enter. Ilia raises her hand, signaling our men to halt while the two of us step inside the building.
The sight that greets us is... disheartening.
If there is a word, I can use to describe it as a whole, it would be exhaustion.
Because exhaustion hangs heavy in the air, etched into every face that turns to look at us. These faunus are huddled together, their eyes devoid of hope or surprise as if they have given up. They look worn down, beaten by more than just physical hardship.
My eyes narrow as I take in the visible marks of abuse on some of them, especially those that have broken horns. Before I can comment, the overseer speaks up from behind us.
“Before you get any ideas, we don’t traffic people,” she says quickly. “We found them in this state. Any injuries were either pre-existing or unfortunate collateral from our forces’ assault. Those caught in the crossfire have received medical assistance.”
I’m inclined to believe her, if only because the abuse seems... controlled. The damage with the objective of punishing and condition a person. There’s no sign of sadistic mutilation or senseless beating for some guy’s psychotic tendencies. I know it sounds very fucked up but I am glad that they have only suffered this much because I know how bad, how cruel, things can get.
Ilia, ever observant, picks up on a detail on the overseer's words. “You said ‘this particular place.’ Are there more of our people in other plantations?”
The woman adjusts her glasses. “We’ll inform you once we’ve finished cataloging everything. This was quicker due to the high concentration of faunus with visible traits. We’ll notify you about the rest when we’re done.”
“I see,” Ilia nods, her gaze still fixed on our people. “You can leave. I need to speak with them alone.”
“As you wish,” the overseer replies. “The Spider Clan officially relinquishes responsibility for these individuals, effective immediately. Goodbye for now.” She bows slightly before leaving, her guards following suit.
Ilia steps outside briefly. “Everyone, stand guard!” She barks and our troops quickly take up positions, replacing the departed Spider members.
When she re-enters, I notice a shift in the people inside. They look worried now, almost... scared. It’s not a good sign. Their silence speaks volumes about the conditioning they’ve endured.
Ilia notices too, and she stops, deliberately relaxing her stance before slowly removing her white mask. It’s a good approach, trying to empathize by showing her real face to people so they can see she is just like them. I’m not sure how effective it will be given their state, but I’ll let her proceed.
But first she takes a first breath.
“I’m Ilia Amitola, a faunus like you, and I’m here with the White Fang. We’re here to help you, as it always has been our objective since its foundation.” She pauses, allowing her words to sink in. The silence stretches on, uncomfortable and heavy.
Undeterred, she continues, her voice gaining strength. “I know you’ve suffered. I’ve seen the pain in your eyes, the marks on your bodies. But that ends today. We’re here to show you that there’s always hope, that we can raise our heads and stand tall and proud against everything!”
Ah, she wants to inspire them and it is similar to one of Ghira’s rally speeches. Perhaps she can convince them to join.
She pauses, waiting for a reaction, but receives none. The exhausted faces stare back blankly. Ilia’s brow furrows slightly, but she presses on.
“We’re doing our best to build a future where no one has to endure what you’ve been through. A future where we’re treated as equals, where our children can grow up without fear or shame!”
Her words echo in the barn, met with only the shuffling of feet and a few quiet coughs.
“Together, we can make a difference. We need your help, your strength to help build this future!”
She finishes with her fist raised, a gesture meant to rally and inspire. But the crowd remains unmoved. No one raises a fist in return. No one cheers. Not even a whisper of approval breaks the heavy silence.
Dammit. This is bad.
I let out a long sigh and shake my head before stepping forward, placing a hand on Ilia’s shoulder. She looks at me in surprise, but I simply nod and move past her to address the group directly but I won’t remove my helmet.
Ilia, in her case, takes a step back and allows me to take control of the situation.
“Those who want to return home, stand up,” I say, my voice firm but not unkind.
The effect is immediate. The majority perk up, their attention fully focused on me.
“We weren’t able to prevent this,” I continue, a hint of regret in my tone, “but we can make it right now. We’ll see you safely back to your families, back to your homes.”
“You’re... not lying to us, are you?” A woman with disheveled hair speaks up with a trembling voice.
I meet her gaze for a short while. “No. Your nightmare ends today. You can finally rest.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before the dam breaks. Sobs and tears of relief fill the air as about half of them stand.
“Those returning home move to the back,” I instruct, gesturing towards the rear of the building.
As they comply, I turn to those still seated. “For those seeking a fresh start, Menagerie offers sanctuary. Whatever you’ve heard, know this - we’ve made great strides. You’ll find safety, opportunity, and a chance to rebuild.”
The remaining group stands, life returning to their eyes so they can hope again.
“Those bound for Menagerie, to the left,” I direct.
As they move, I notice a handful still seated, their eyes rather lost, but their eyes have a different light in them. My expression hardens slightly as I approach them.
“You’ve tasted injustice, transgression, outrage.” I state, pausing to let those words take root in their minds. “It burns inside you, doesn’t it? The desire to fight back, to change things. But you felt powerless, trapped by circumstances and your own doubts. Chained by that cursed question of ‘What if’?”
The remaining five stiffen, avoiding my gaze out of shame as it is clear they never did anything. All those thoughts were just thoughts fueling resentment.
“Do not be ashamed of your inaction.” I soften my tone slightly. “It’s not a weakness to recognize a hopeless situation. You could have fought back and you would have ended up dead and only throwing everyone deeper into despair. Yet, your spark can be the first spark of real change. Alone, it will snuff out. But together? We can set the world ablaze.”
The remaining five stiffened at my words and lowered their heads in shame.
“Do not be ashamed, for you are not soldiers. You are people, one that have been thrown into a terrible situation. Fighting back alone would have achieved nothing. But when we are together, it’s when those sparks can become an unstoppable fire that nothing will withstand. It’s only one action, one small step that requires so we can achieve something greater.”
Their expressions suffer a myriad of changes, and I know this is the moment to finish it.
I extend my hand. “Take that first step with us. Let me and the White Fang to guide you in a new path that we will build together, an instrument of change.”
Doubt wars with anger in their eyes. Finally, the man in front grasps my hand firmly, standing. The others follow soon after, with the same determination.
“Together,” I say,feeling fierce pride in my voice, “we’ll ensure no one suffers as you have.”
And so we gained 5 new soldiers, ready to fight for our cause.
Glancing over my shoulder, I catch Ilia’s admiring gaze. She quickly composes herself, nodding and gesturing for the recruits to follow her out. I turn my attention to making the necessary calls.
First, Corsac. “The Spider clan kept their word,” I inform him. “About 30 are headed to Menagerie, the rest to their hometowns. We’ve also gained five recruits. Make the necessary preparations.”
“As you wish, High Leader,” he responds before ending the call.
Next, I contact Triffa. “Come to the plantation. You’ll be escorting a group to the nearest town and helping them relocate. I’ll provide a budget and additional personnel if needed.”
“It will be done, High Leader,” she affirms and ends the call.
I transfer twenty thousand Lien to cover immediate needs - food, clothes, and temporary housing. It should suffice to cover those basic necessities, but I can always send more if necessary.
Turning back to the people still in the barn, I address them with a simple but clear message. “Please wait and rest here. We’ll bring food shortly.” With that, I step outside and close the door.
The new recruits were already wearing their white masks, armed only with small knives. It’s a prudent choice - they’re not ready for firearms yet because that would be only inviting chaos and friendly fire in case of any fight.
As I scan the area, I notice Ilia is missing from the group. It takes me a moment, but I spot her tucked away between a hay pile and some rubble, hugging her knees to her chest. And she has changed color, blending with the environment but not perfectly as she is capable but just enough, so I am the only one who can actually see her.
Concern furrows my brow as I watch Ilia. Her usual confidence seems shaken, and I decide to approach quietly, giving her space but making my presence known.
Her keen senses pick up on my approach before I can speak. Without turning, she asks, “What did I do wrong? I thought that would make them stand up for themselves after what they went through. I thought we’d get a much-needed boost, a grand moral victory.”
I press my lips into a thin line, considering my words carefully. But I realize that this requires blunt honesty. “It’s exactly what they went through that made them reluctant to fight back.”
Ilia snaps her head towards me, eyes wide with confusion and surprise.
“Not everyone comes from the same background or grows up the same, Ilia,” I explain, my voice low and intense. “People grow weary, tired, Ilia. They become exhausted, and eventually, they simply... give up. They aim for acceptance because it’s easier to adapt to a harsh reality than to constantly fight against it.”
My hands clench into fists as I continue, venom seeping into my words. “That’s why there are still so many of us living in the cities, especially in Mantle Mega City, despite everything they have to endure. The injustice, the discriminatory laws, the curfews, all these violations of our rights.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “They’ve accepted that reality and learned to live with it because they had nothing else to turn to.”
A heavy silence falls between us, broken only by the rustling of hay and leaves in the wind.
Ilia lowers her gaze, her freckles and skin spots taking on a somber blue tone. “I hate that you’re right,” she admits quietly. “I... I just wish things were different. That this wasn’t the case and everyone could just stand together. It would make things easier.”
“And they would all die,” I state bluntly.
Her eyes snap open, her skin shifting to a startled yellow.
I shake my head, softening my tone slightly. “I know it’s crude, but that’s how it is. It’s what everyone expects. This mindset has been ingrained for generations. Change won’t happen overnight.”
Ilia’s skin returns to a darker blue, her expression downcast. “There are times when it feels pointless to even try. We probably won’t even see any results in our lifetimes.”
No. We WILL see the fruit of our labor. I’ll make it happen.
I kneel beside her, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She leans into the touch, her skin gradually returning to its normal tone.
“It’s never pointless, Ilia,” I say, my voice low but resolute. “Every action ripples outward. These people will speak of what happened here. They’ll know the White Fang still fights for them. That alone keeps hope alive. Even if we only rekindle hope in one person, it’s a victory worth celebrating.”
She offers a small smile. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“I learned from the best,” I reply, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
A wave of melancholy washes over me, followed by a sharp pang of loss. It’s something my father would have said... Something he did say to me when I was younger to lift my spirits when I felt down, overwhelmed.
And I still miss him.
I swallow hard, pushing the memories aside and get up, rolling my neck to ease the tension.
“We’ll spend the night here and rest,” I decide, my tone leaving no room for argument. “With this many people, travel will be very slow. It’ll be nightfall before we reach the outpost and I won’t risk their safety as we know nighttime attracts more dangerous grimm.” While that’s the main reason, it also gives our camp more time to prepare.
Ilia nods, already thinking ahead. “I’ll go talk with the overseer. I’m sure we can get another building, even if we need to pay for it.” She stands, brushing off her clothes and replacing her mask.
“Good idea. I’ll start distributing fo-“ I stop mid-sentence, my head snapping to the left. My eyes lock onto a shape, small and barely visible.
It’s moving, trying to shift positions. But my enhanced vision tracks it easily. A person, shorter than my shoulder height, attempting to hide among the rubble and buildings.
“Is something-“ Ilia begins, but I raise a hand, silencing her. I need to focus.
And yes, I can fully confirm that the person spying on us is short and has seamlessly blended with the surroundings. If it wasn’t for my enhanced vision, I wouldn’t have even noticed her.
“Behind the pile of hay,” I whisper, my eyes never leaving the intruder. “Now moving to the wooden cart... going back to the hay.”
Ilia doesn’t hesitate. Her whip crackles with lightning as she lashes out, striking the hay and setting it ablaze in an instant.
The short spy leaps out, and I seize the opportunity. I charge forward, drawing my sword in a swift arc. But the intruder bends at an impossible angle, evading my strike, before jumping away to create distance.
I pivot, merging my weapons into their gun form. I aim and pull the trigger without thinking twice, unleashing a barrage of buckshot. One shot connects, but instead of falling injured, the figure shatters like glass into a million pieces.
I’m not fooled by this simple illusion. My eyes dart to the right, where I find a short woman with tri-colored hair wearing fashionable formal clothes. She raises her hands above her head in surrender, but that smug smile tells a different story. She’s playing along, not truly yielding.
I keep my shotgun aimed squarely at her head, my finger resting on the trigger. I know who this is, even if only from memories.
Neopolitan.
“Don’t move,” I growl.
Yet those few gunshots, though brief, are more than enough to attract everyone’s attention in the plantation. In a matter of seconds, a horde of armed spider clan members rush to the scene, their weapons at the ready. However, the majority of our men, being faster and closer, quickly came to our side, taking up defensive positions, showing the experience. The clan members, not to be outdone, also take up positions, creating a tense standoff.
It’s in this moment that everything becomes extremely tense, the air thick with anticipation. Any wrong step, any misinterpreted movement, could cause either side to take the first shot and ignite a full-blown shootout and we are at a glaring disadvantage, both positions and numbers.
However, Ilia, ever the quick thinker, takes charge of the situation with a simple yet effective gesture. She raises her hand, and that action alone is enough to calm them. Their stance visibly relaxes, though I note with approval that they don’t lower their guard completely. This show of restraint is enough for the clan to mirror our actions, the collective tension easing slightly but not dissipating entirely, but at least none of them will accidentally pull the trigger now.
To further defuse the situation, I make a calculated move. I lower my weapon and strap it back on my waist. Despite this gesture of goodwill, I keep my eyes fixed on Neo, studying her closely. She seems utterly unconcerned about the potential bloodbath that might have erupted mere moments ago as she winks at me.
But the result is a silent standoff, both sides waiting for the next move, but Ilia doesn’t take it and waits for the Spider clan to act first.
Moments later, the relative calm is broken by the arrival of the woman with glasses. She comes running, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence, and stops, leaning on her knees as she pants heavily. Yet, more than fatigue, her face shows extreme displeasure, her attention laser-focused on Neopolitan. The short woman, for her part, maintains her smug smile, seemingly having fun despite being solely responsible for this chaos.
Ilia breaks the silence, her voice carrying a dangerous edge that I’ve rarely heard. “Care to explain why you’ve got someone tailing us?” she demands, her gaze fixed on the woman with glasses.
The woman straightens, meeting Ilia’s gaze with a frown of her own. “We did not send anyone to spy on you,” she replies, her words coming out through gritted teeth as she glares at Neo. “That... problem invited herself here under the guise of a favor. She was supposed to leave as soon as the fight with the Hitsui family ended. Clearly, she’s overstayed her welcome."
Neo’s response to this accusation is mildly infuriating. She merely giggles and shrugs exaggeratedly, her entire demeanor radiating an air of complete indifference to anyone’s opinions. It’s as if she exists in her own little world.
But I take this moment to study Neo more closely. She’s wearing a gray scarf that contrasts sharply with her white corset, visible under her pristine white jacket. As I watch, she pulls out her parasol with a flourish, opening it and resting it on her shoulder to block the sun from her face. The action is casual, almost lazy, further emphasizing her apparent lack of concern for the situation.
And questions race through my mind. Why is she here?
The overseer’s words echo in my thoughts - she mentioned that Neo is here as some sort of weird favor. Could this mean that Roman is on good terms with the Spider clan? Or is he perhaps trying to win some favors from them?
Ilia’s patience, it seems, has finally run out. “Take her away,” she declares, her voice leaving no room for argument, just like I do. “Or we will silence her ourselves.”
I know Ilia well enough to recognize that this isn’t an empty threat or an attempt at intimidation. She means every word and mentally nods in approval.
The overseer, too, seems to recognize the tone of Ilia’s words, causing her face to contort into a deep frown, but after a moment of consideration, she nods. “Our relationship is of great interest to be jeopardized over this... misunderstanding caused by a third-party.” She says, shooting another glare at Neo. “I assure you, we’re committed to our current deal and potential deals in the future. This won’t happen again. I will make sure of it.”
“See that it doesn’t.”
With those final words hanging in the air, the woman raises her hand and snaps her fingers, serving as a signal for the guards. They move swiftly, grabbing Neo and beginning to escort her away.
True to her careless and free nature, Neo doesn’t resist. Instead, she sends us a playful wink and waves her hand, the gesture almost mocking in its casualness. Her antics continue until another guard, clearly irritated, moves to block her view, cutting off her silent farewell.
As I watch her being led away, a nagging feeling settles in my gut. This encounter with Neo is far from over. The fact that I noticed her when nobody else did and could keep up with her illusions has already marked me as a person of interest in her eyes. It wasn’t my intention, but I can work with this. She’s likely to escape whatever punishment the overseer has in mind and comes looking for me.
Since we’ll be staying the night, she’s bound to make her move then. A time when it will be only the two of us… and the perfect chance to stamp her. This girl could become an invaluable informant and asset, or perhaps even more, depending on Roman’s influence in Vale’s underworld. After all, dealing with gangs individually would be a colossal waste of time and resources.
It’s a simple plan, but in my experience, those often work without a hitch.
Ilia lets out a long, tired sigh and turns around. “Return to your posts and start distributing the food we’ve brought. I’ll handle the arrangements for tonight’s stay. Carry on.”
Everyone salutes with a firm gesture before dispersing. Only when we’re alone, do I approach her. “You handled that situation impressively.”
“I... thank you, Adam, but what would you have done differently?” she asks out of curiosity.
I cross my arms and give it some thought. “Shouted the stop order instead of using a gesture. Our men are veterans, trained to interpret various signals. Less experienced soldiers might have mistaken that gesture as an order to open fire.”
She stiffens, her eyes widening in realization behind her mask. “I... I didn’t consider that.”
I shake my head, offering reassurance. “Don’t dwell on it. You trusted your forces, and that’s a commendable trait in a leader.” My gaze drifts back to the barn. “Trifa will be here soon to collect those wanting to return home. I’ll have her bring extra supplies, just in case.”
“I’ll go negotiate with the overseer. After this incident, I’m confident we can secure better terms.”
“Good luck,” I nod and watch her leave in the direction of the manor.
I remain standing in the same spot for a while before looking up to the cloudy sky.
“Pod, status report.”
“REPORT: NO UNUSUAL ACTIVITY DETECTED IN THE SURROUNDING AREA.”
Of course, I brought Pod on this mission as well; he’s invaluable in so many aspects. Especially since we still have no clue about the behemoth lurking in this land.
“Pod, is it possible to mark and track specific individuals?” I ask, thinking back to Neo. I can’t afford to trust her unpredictable nature.
“ANALYSIS: TRACKING SPECIFIC INDIVIDUALS IS POSSIBLE. HOWEVER, A CLOSE-RANGE FULL SCAN IS REQUIRED FOR ACCURATE IDENTIFICATION AND TRACKING.”
I click my tongue in frustration. There goes the idea of an easy, reliable tracking method. I should have scanned her when I had the chance, instead of getting caught up in the moment.
No use dwelling on it now. We press forward.
“Pod, keep an eye on the perimeter. And report any Grimm activity.”
“AFFIRMATIVE. CONTINUING SURVEILLANCE WITH FOCUS ON GRIMM DETECTION.”
Now I only need to wait.
---------------------------------
Hours fly by.
Calling Triffa and instructing her to bring extra food proves to be a wise decision. Our people are hungrier than expected - not quite starving, but ravenous enough to make me frown. It’s an unsurprising result of the Mistral families’ treatment of their workforce, given their main recruitment methods were kidnappings, trafficking or shady and legally binding contracts.
Leveraging Neo’s incident, Ilia managed to secure more benefits for us, including another empty building where everyone is sent to sleep instead of the damp barn. The accommodations are sparse - merely blankets and folded, worn-out clothes serving as makeshift pillows - but it’s the best we can offer at the moment and it’s better than nothing.
In the meantime, our new recruits fill us in on the now fallen Hitsui family’s operations. This plantation, dedicated to sugarcane production, was part of their cash crop empire. Seeing only burnt remains and swaths of blackened land, I can safely say there won’t be any sugar cane coming from here anymore. The market will probably take a hit, given the cartel family’s considerable market share. But knowing politics, Miss Lil’ Malachite probably has a plan for this and uses it to her advantage.
What’s crucial to note is that the Hitsui weren’t the only family that have plantations to their names. There are more scattered all over the kingdom of Mistral, and are an integral part of the economy. We’ll have to devise another strategy to end this abuse; hitting plantations one by one isn’t feasible or a good long-term solution.
After debriefing, I leave everyone to rest and station myself atop the building, keeping watch for the entire night. One sleepless night won’t affect me, and my men will need all the rest they can get for tomorrow’s journey back to base because it will be a long day.
This leaves me with more time for study sessions and reading. I still haven’t finished the books the doctor gave me. He wasn’t exaggerating about the time investment - it’s already taken months and I haven’t even reached the halfway point.
After finishing another chapter from the administration of public buildings, I decided to take a short break. I look up at the starry night sky, my eyes naturally drawn to the shattered moon above everyone. Its abstract beauty never fails to fascinate me, a constant reminder of our world’s many mysteries.
Yet I don’t allow myself to indulge in the view for long. I perform a quick scan of my surroundings, which sadly yields nothing - no signatures to take notice of.
It’s both good and bad news because it’s well past midnight, and Neo has yet to make her appearance.
“ALERT: GRIMM DETECTED. LOCATION: 200 METERS SOUTH OF CURRENT POSITION.”
Pod’s monotone voice snaps me to attention. I stand abruptly, sending everything to the pocket space. “How many?”
“ANALYSIS: SINGLE GRIMM ENTITY DETECTED.”
A frown crosses my face as a single one could mean an alpha prowling around, and that’s extremely dangerous. “Identify.”
“SCANNING... SCAN COMPLETE. GRIMM SPECIES: TERRORFANG. ANOMALY DETECTED: SUBJECT SIGNIFICANTLY LARGER THAN RECORDED SPECIMENS IN THE DATABASE. BEHAVIOR ANOMALY: MOVING ALONE, NOT IN A PACK.”
“That’s strange,” I comment aloud. A terrorfang should be the squigs copy, if my memory serves me right. Does that mean that they don’t have a specific environment to exit? “Any other anomalies?”
“AFFIRMATIVE. COLORATION ANOMALY DETECTED. SUBJECT’S PRIMARY COLOR: DEEP RED. STANDARD GRIMM COLORATION ABSENT.”
His analysis makes me furrow my brows more. This is a complete abnormality; Grimm are pitch black, with white bone armor. But he’s saying this one is colored red?
“Is the grimm still there? Or has he moved?”
“Affirmative. Subject remains in detected area. Behavior analysis: Displaying tracking and searching patterns. Anomalous for species.”
“Too many anomalies for my liking. Pod, keep an eye on our troops. I will investigate this anomaly personally.”
“Affirmative. Commencing surveillance protocols.”
Rolling my neck, I leap from the building, landing in a crouch before dashing south. The vast plantation allows for undetected movement. As the guards are spread thin, once I enter the jungle, I activate enhanced vision to avoid missing any detail.
“WARNING: TARGET 200 METERS AHEAD. SUGGESTION: EXERCISE CAUTION WHEN APPROACH.”
I appreciate Pod’s concern but maintain my speed, nonetheless. Launching upward, I take to the trees, gaining a vantage point. Soon, a red shape comes into view.
Carefully, I close in, finding a spot with a clear view. Just as Pod reported, the squig is much larger than the normal squigs and it’s entirely red.
With a better look I can finally tell that its size is slightly shorter than me, but much wider - like a giant ball with legs and ridiculously sized pointy jaws. The fangs are so large that I can easily imagine a person losing an arm, or even half a body, to a single chomp of the squig.
Despite its fearsome appearance, the monster behavior is bizarrely docile. It’s sniffing the ground, wagging its long tail, and snorting - extremely weird behavior for a life-hating Grimm. Pod was right to call it an anomaly. Anomaly or not, it’s still potentially dangerous. The prudent choice would be to eliminate the monster first and ask questions later.
As I’m considering my options, the red Grimm sharply lifts its head and turns, looking directly at me. I flinch in surprise as its four small eyes lock onto mine and my hand instinctively reaches for the handle of my sword, ready to end this with one swift strike as soon as it makes a move.
But the attack never comes, only staring at each other in tense silence. The big squig remains in place, staring at me. It tilts its head to one side, then the other, in an almost comical display of curiosity. And then it starts... barking?
No, not quite barking. It’s more like a poor imitation of what barking might sound like to someone who has never heard a dog bark, the noise seeming to emanate from its stomach rather than its throat, and is very distorted, disjointed.
The creature stops its bizarre vocalization and lets out a long pink tongue, lolling and panting while wagging its tail frantically, which only causes me to get even more confused.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, shaking my head to clear the initial stupor. “Pod, analysis.”
“ANALYSIS…. ANALYSIS COMPLETE. GRIMM ANOMALY IS SHOWING COMMON DOMESTIC DOG BEHAVIOR.”
“I can see that. But why is it acting like one?”
“PERFORMING FURTHER ANALYSIS. ANALYSIS COMPLETE. GRIMM HAS SIMILAR SIGNS AND READINGS TO COMMANDER TAURUS. A 95% MATCH”
The response hits me like a punch to the gut. “What?”
My mind races, trying to make sense of Pod’s words. Similar readings to me? Because how is that even possible?
This one acting like an oversized, demonic puppy and somehow is related to me?
Against my better judgment, I take a cautious step forward and leap off the tree I was standing to land in front of the monster of darkness, my hand still on my weapon. The Grimm’s tail wags harder, its mouth opening in what almost looks like a… grin? It’s unsettling, seeing such a familiar, friendly gesture on a creature that should be mindlessly aggressive.
“Pod, expand on that last analysis. What exactly do you mean by ‘similar signs and-“
I pause mid-sentence as realization dawns on me. The only way this creature could be related to me is through the company stamp, binding us together and sharing power. Which in turn would be picked up by Pod data. Suddenly, I remember stamping a small Grimm-squig months ago at Mountain Glenn because I wanted to test how much I could from it.
But it seems impossible. How could this massive red squig be the same little bastard I kicked to the sky back then? We’re continents and a sea apart to begin with. Yet Pod doesn’t lie; he reports findings as accurately as possible.
Taking a deep breath, I release my weapon’s handle and approach the squig Grimm with slow, soft steps to avoid startling it. It tilts its head again and leans forward slightly. Seizing the opportunity, I extend my left hand to what I hope is where the nose should be located.
The Grimm sniffs my hand, snorting loudly before continuing to investigate my arm while I wait patiently for it but never lowering my guard as my hand even if it isn’t holding onto my weapon, it’s more than ready to unsheathe it and swiftly kill it.
However, the squig lets out a thunderous, distorted bark, licks my hand, and launches into an excited barking session. It starts running in circles, pausing occasionally to look at me and wag its tail before resuming its frenzied movement around me.
And while he is in such a state, I catch a glimpse of its belly and spot my stamp. “So you are the little fucker from Mountain Glenn. But how did you even get here?”
Questions flood my mind. Squigs don’t swim, as far as I know. Also, how did it change color? Is this a consequence of my stamp and the Body Tune-up perk? It looks more like some bizarre creature than a typical Grimm now.
And if I stamp other grimm, will they also mutate like this?
The strange Grimm pauses its antics and stares at me for a while. Then, it starts making alarming gagging noises and spasms. Before I can react, it regurgitates a ball of black feathers - Nevermore feathers, to be exact.
I stare at the pile of gooey black feathers, then back at the squig. “You... rode a Nevermore?”
And to my utter astonishment, it actually nods. It can understand me. Then the not so little bastard starts making exaggerated chomping and chewing gestures with the feathers.
“You rode a Nevermore all the way to Mistral and then ate it? That’s what you’re trying to say?”
Another nod from the grimm.
I take a step back, my hand reaching for my head as I try to process this information. It’s too bizarre to believe at first, but there are no other logical explanations because I sure as fuck cannot even think of one. And when reason flies out the window, everything else follows suit.
Almost in a trance, my cybernetic hand slowly reaches out towards the Grimm’s face. It touches the red skin, and it’s surprisingly warm and I start petting its head, then move to scratch under its chin. The creature reacts with obvious pleasure, its big pink tongue lolling out as it closes all four eyes for a moment before it drops onto the ground, rolling around with its legs dangling in the air.
Just like a happy dog asking for more pets.
And weirdly enough, I oblige, moving closer to scratch its belly. The squig’s legs and paws react positively, moving back and forth while it makes extremely odd noises. Listening more closely, I realize it’s trying to imitate a cat purring.
This is so dumb, so incredibly stupid. A Grimm, a creature of destruction, acting like an oversized, demonic puppy-kitten hybrid. It defies everything I know about these monsters.
But what else can I do at this point but go with the flow?
“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” I mutter to the monster, which responds with another attempt at purring. “I wonder what else you can do.”
The absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on me. Here I am, Adam Taurus, leader of the White Fang, scratching the belly of a Grimm in the middle of the night. If anyone saw this, they’d think I’d lost my mind.
Yet, I can’t deny the untapped potential I just found. But it’s also a massive responsibility and a risk. If anyone finds out about this...
“We’re going to have to keep you a secret for now,” I tell the squig, which has rolled back onto its feet and is looking at me expectantly. “Lucky for you I have a place where to keep you for the foreseeable future.”
I just need to take this guy to my demi-plane home and leave it there, it will be fine and a good place to study it with Pod and Nines assistance.
As if in response, the squig lets out another of its strange barks and starts wagging its tail again.
“COMMANDER, INTRUDER ALERT. EAST OF YOUR POSITION.”
On cue, my bizarre giant pet loses all excitement from its face, baring sharp deadly teeth and letting out a menacing, guttural growl. Its four eyes look past me, focusing on something behind.
But I don’t need to turn around to know who’s there. A smirk curls my lips behind my helmet as my prediction finally comes true.
“Finally decided to show yourself,” I say coolly, not turning yet. I lightly tap the big guy’s head, gesturing for it to leave. It snorts and runs deeper into the jungle. Only when it’s fully out of view, do I turn to face Neo.
“Though I’d have preferred better timing.”
Neo Politan leans against a tree, arms crossed under her chest. This time, she isn’t wearing her usual smug smile. She looks serious.
The mismatched girl leaves the tree and divides into two, or more like she activates her semblance, one going left and the other walking towards me. I quickly deduce which is real, focusing my gaze on the authentic Neo. She picks up on this and divides again, trying to throw me off.
“Your trick won’t work with me.” I say sharply. “State your business or leave.”
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t try again. Finally approaching me. Standing right in front of me reveals the stark contrast in our heights.
“What do you want? Or are you just here to satisfy your twisted curiosity?” I ask.
Neo looks up at the sky, tapping her chin with a finger in thought. A glint of mischief passes through her eyes, and she uses her hands to simulate horns on her head while giving me a knowing smirk.
I narrow my eyes dangerously. “You’re treading on thin ice. One more foolish move and this conversation ends.”
That wipes the smug smile off her face instantly. She opens her pink umbrella, resting it on her right shoulder before giving me a regal, educated bow.
“I assume Torchwick sent you. What does he want?”
My direct questions cause her face to twist into a deep frown before she pulls out a small piece of newspaper from her jacket pocket and extends her hand, urging me to take it.
I take it, maintaining my distance and never dropping my guard.
‘Infamous Criminal Roman Torchwick Captured! Vale Police Force Successfully Apprehends Notorious Mastermind in a daring operation...’
I quickly check the article’s date. It’s from about two weeks ago. I didn’t know this; somehow, the Vale police force got the better of the sly thief and was able to arrest him. The article also mentions that he’s being held in an Iso-Cube.
“So, the great Torchwick got himself caught,” I say, a hint of derision in my voice. “And you want me to free him?”
She nods slowly.
I hand the paper back to her. “What’s in it for us? Prison breaks aren’t child’s play. I won’t risk my people for nothing.”
It’s only fair to ask. But there’s more to it - I can also stamp Roman after freeing him. Two birds, one stone.
Neo’s smirk widens, a glint of triumph in her mismatched eyes. She pulls out a file from her jacket - how she managed to hide that under her clothes, I can only guess. As she hands it over, I open it with care.
The first document freezes me for a split second - Atlas intelligence. My eyes widen briefly before I school my features back to neutrality. I start reading, revelation after revelation unfolding before me.
The classified Atlesian weapon that the Albain brothers reported? It’s Penny. And there’s more - a profile on Winter Schnee, followed by extensive documentation of the platoon sent to Mistral, complete with their weaponry specs.
Both Penny and Winter are here in Mistral, tasked with slaying the behemoth.
This is invaluable intel. How did this girl manage to get her hands on something like this? Have I been underestimating her capabilities all along?
But there’s more. I shuffle through commercial contracts with various companies stationed in Vale and Mistral. Each stipulates the sale and trade of goods and necessities at below market price - exactly what we need.
I had no idea Torchwick was such an extensive businessman. These must all be his companies, likely through various proxies and shell companies, or laundering fronts. But they’re his, in the end.
It’s a good offer. A very good one. Especially now with our port making trade much smoother.
All for freeing that slimy bastard from his cell.
I look up at Neo. “How can we be sure this isn’t just lies? That you won’t rescind your part of the deal once he’s out?”
There’s no honor among thieves, after all. And we’d have no recourse if they went back on their word.
Neo stares at me for a long moment, then crosses her arms, looking pensive. Eventually, she just shrugs exaggeratedly.
So, a leap of faith is required. Thinking it through, Torchwick does follow his own set of rules. He might keep his word once we free him. It’s a gamble, but one that could pay off handsomely.
No - it has already paid off, thanks to the Atlas intel. Now I know what I’m dealing with and how to proceed.
“Very well,” I say, carefully tucking the stack of documents under my jacket while secretly sending them to my pocket space. “I will see to it after the Mistral situation is under control.”
My answer makes her furrow her brow and shake her head disapprovingly.
“A breakout isn’t as simple as the movies make it seem,” I explain, my tone firm. “This needs careful planning and resources, all of which are currently tied up here. Torchwick will have to wait.” I pause, considering. “However, I hope you can provide a way to contact you.”
She throws me a small scroll, which I quickly check. It reveals a single number.
It will have to do.
Nodding, I extend my hand to close the deal. “Let this be a beneficial venture for both of us.”
Neo eyes me up and down warily, searching for any sign of deception. Eventually, she extends her left hand and gives me a firm shake.
What she doesn’t know is that the stamp materializes between my fingers, gently applying itself to her wrist during our handshake.
Sweet, sweet victory.
“We’ll be in touch.”
