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G.N. Chapter 41
🕑 Added 2024-02-29 06:07:44 +0000 UTCChapter 41 Last Sonata
Jaune felt out of place when he returned to Oedon chapel; his leaving last time had left him feeling… lost. The sensation remained even as he stood in the centre of the building, his eyes roaming over the familiar but not lingering.
Addressing the Dweller had alleviated some of the sensation with the hunched being showing to be ever courteous.
Jaune found that while perhaps one of the odder individuals he had come across, the Dweller's mannerisms served to endear Jaune to him. A courteous conversationalist was a rarity in Yharnam… not that he could be too harsh about the matter.
Even Eileen had been rather curt during their first interaction, the Crow Hunter desiring little more than for him to be on his way. Though she had been more amiable than some, which Jaune appreciated, she was someone he considered an ally.
There were few he could.
He wondered how Eileen would get along with the Doll.
Such thoughts left him smiling; it was a growing wish of his to grant the Doll the ability to acquaint herself with more individuals. Though he was sure, she would likely not share any feelings of loneliness with him… Jaune still believes she would be well served with some more friends.
The little ones were good.
Gehrman…
Jaune grunted, irritated at the thought of the old man. Helpful he may be, but Jaune had never forgotten their first meeting; the man’s words had left a lasting impact. Since then, he has shown that his priority is ensuring Jaune can perform in the Hunt and little else.
This, more than anything else, left Jaune with mixed feelings about the old Hunter.
‘Then again, it's not like I go to him for his winning personality and excellent conversational skills,’ Jaune ruminated as he walked.
He had become more familiar with Cathedral War through his different excursions, though less well than with Central Yharnam. The fact remained that where before he had scoured high and low for the path to his objective in Cathedral Ward, it was hard to miss the Grand Cathedral. There had been little reason to delay in going towards his goal, and to that end, there was still much of the area he had to explore.
Now, though, he would rectify his lacking knowledge.
Such was how he found himself in yet another church, located on his path to Old Yharnam, where the Chalice Gehrman spoke of resided.
It was also where he came across a sight that felt both familiar and new.
A figure dressed in grey and white, situated in front of a grave, having taken a knee with their head bowed.
Jaune looked at the figure with apprehension, his grip tightening about his Cane as he walked down the stairs carefully. The man, he believed them to be a man, appeared human, untouched by the Scourge.
‘Old Blood,’ Jaune thought balefully, remembering once more the sight of the woman transforming into the horrid Beast that now dwelled within the Grand Cathedral.
Another step, and now Jaune was standing only a few feet behind the praying man.
Well within range of his Threaded Cane should the worst prove true.
“… Hello.”
The man’s head lifted, turning slightly, revealing a hint of his appearance, mainly his somewhat curly blond hair. Jaune heard the man sniff slightly, and then his head turned even more, revealing an eye with a hint of green to its colouring.
He did not appear… Beastly.
Jaune didn’t relax, though; just because he looked healthy and sane didn’t mean he was.
“You’re a Beast Hunter, aren’t you?” The stranger spoke, his tone genial.
Jaune nodded, surprised that it was not his foreign status that the man commented on first.
The man stood, moving casually and comfortably, turning to show a warm smile and friendly expression. “I knew it, that’s precisely how I started out…” the man commented, trailing off as he seemed to run away with his memories for a moment.
“Oh, beg pardon.” The stranger apologised, realising he had trailed off, “You may call me Alfred. Protégé of Master Logarius – Hunter of Vilebloods!” the man, Alfred, introduced himself proudly.
Jaune was stunned.
Someone had introduced themselves of their own volition… how odd that this was a rarity; were manners really so different in Yharnam?
‘No, couldn’t be. Gehrman introduced himself rightfully, and he is not what comes to mind when I think polite…’
“I am Jaune, and indeed, I am a Hunter of Beasts,” Jaune greeted in turn, bowing as was polite, though not loosening his grip on his weapon.
Alfred seemed quite pleased at his introduction, clapping his hands together with a delighted chuckle, “So, what say you? Our prey might differ, but we are Hunters, the both of us.” Alfred gestured to himself and Jaune, though his frame was far bulkier than Jaune's.
Jaune was unsure how much of it was the man's heavy robes and how much was the man himself… though judging by his booming clap, Jaune was willing to suspect there was not insignificant mass to the man's frame.
Alfred continued, “Why not co-operate, and discuss the things we’ve learned?”
Jaune blinked, now genuinely shocked.
‘He is offering to help… just like that?’ Jaune couldn’t help but think back to Eileen, who had been… prickly during their initial encounter.
But Jaune was in no place to turn down aid so freely given.
“… That sounds quite sensible; I see no reason to decline,” Jaune nodded with a smile he hoped was polite.
Alfred’s expression of joviality became downright radiant, “Oh-ho! Very good, very good indeed! Take this, to celebrate our acquaintance.” Alfred reached into his robes and pulled out some scraps of paper.
Jaune was struck by a bout of déjà vu.
Jaune accepted the offered papers, remembering well how, at first, he had not known the true worth of Eileen's gift. The many deaths he might have avoided had he only been more curious and enquired… was frustrating to consider.
The papers in question were rough, so much so that he could feel such about their substance even through his gloves.
Alfred continued to speak while Jaune eyed his gift, “Beast Hunting is a sacred practice, may the good Blood guide your way.”
Jaune paused in his examination to eye his new acquaintance; the man's mention of the Good Blood rousing Jaune’s suspicions.
‘Too good to be…’
“I thank you for this gift… but I must admit that as far as Hunters go, I am still rather new to things,” Jaune admitted, holding up the paper.
“Oh, of course, hah! Such is no surprise. Things have been truly hectic in our fair city as of late. Well, then, allow me to explain,” Alfred spoke, quick to offer an explanation. “This is Fire Paper, and it is, you will find, aptly named. Simply drag a leaflet of this paper across your weapon and watch as it becomes ignited in a searing flame. Perfect for one who hunts Beasts as the monsters are known to feel the bite of flame harshly.”
Jaune looked back down at the paper, immediately ceasing his action of rubbing his thumb over it. He now had a completely new concern about his new ‘friend’. That being that, the man was all too happy to hand him something flammable with no forewarning.
‘Useful though…’ Jaune thought, remembering how he had brought down the Cleric Beast with Oil Urns and Molotovs. He had tried fire against the Beast in the Grand Cathedral… but it was superior to the Cleric Beast from the Great Bridge. Not just speed and strength, but the pale one of the Grand Cathedral also possessed a body of immense vitality.
Its regenerative powers aside… the fur that cloaked it was especially bothersome, the strands tough and hard to cut. The hide below was just as much so, and the muscles beneath were inhuman, to say the least… unnatural and resilient.
The Insight Jaune now held left him wondering as to what, if any, part the Blood played in all this.
He knew now that the Blood played some part in the Scourge of Beasts, that the Church knew of this or at least suspected… perhaps wilfully ignorant. But questions remained, for instance, why now was the scourge as severe as it was? The Blood had been in circulation for… a very long time.
Longer than Cathedral Ward has existed at least… that alone was concerning; the Blood was the stuff of miracles and the power base of the Church. One need only look at the opulence of the Cathedral Ward to see their power. It was quite literally built above Central Yharnam, where Jaune was sure the majority resided.
Subtle the Church was not.
… But that was just on the surface.
Jaune realised he had been silent now for a stretch, his new ‘friend’ looking at him quite calmly, all too happy to let him reside in his own head. Jaune was grateful for his cowl as he was sure his embarrassment would have been plain to see otherwise.
“Apologies, I was lost thinking about the many uses of your fine gift. I will see it put to good use. I can promise you this,” Jaune explained, giving a half bow as he tucked the Fire Paper away. “Perhaps I might confer with you further… if it is no bother?”
The man gave a hearty cheer, “There must be oodles for us to share! Go on, just tell me what piques your interest.”
Jaune smiled; Alfred came off as genuinely helpful, causing Jaune to liken him to Gilbert. “Wonderful, then perhaps I might ask after your knowledge of the Church? Truly, it seems to be almost as one with the city, yet I find myself woefully lacking in knowledge about the institution itself.”
Alfred brought his fist under his chin, resting his clean-shaven face upon his limb as he began to speak. “As you know the Healing Church is the fountain head of Blood Healing. Well, I’m a simple Hunter quite unfamiliar with the ins-and-outs of the institution,” Alfred admitted his smile a touch chagrined.
“I assure you what you know is likely far more in-depth than myself, friend,” Jaune encouraged, hoping to avoid coming off as pushy.
The last thing he wanted was Alfred to think he was fishing for information with an agenda.
Well,… a malicious agenda.
Luckily, Alfred seemed open to sharing, and his smile became much more earnest as he continued. “But I have heard the Holy Medium of Blood Healing is venerated in the main Cathedral…” Alfred trailed off, his face scrunching up in thought.
Jaune nodded; this tracked with what he saw, and now that he thought on it… it was likely that this Holy Medium was what he had beheld on the massive decorated altar. Though he had not gotten a good look at the thing… at least not one, he recalled, he was willing to bet he could learn more from this item. Perhaps some hint to the nature of Blood Healing if not the Blood itself.
Perhaps there was something to the origin of the Old Blood.
Alfred continued speaking, his voice pulling Jaune from his hypothesising, “… Counsellors of the old Church reside in the high-stratum of the Cathedral Ward… If you seek Blood Healing, and the Church is willing, you should pay them a visit…” Alfred finished with a succinct nod.
Jaune decided it would likely not be in his best interest to ask if Alfred knew anything about the abomination that was currently residing in the Grand Cathedral. Or if he knew any less than savoury rumours surrounding the Blood and possible connections it might hold to the Beastly Scourge.
The man’s opinion of the Church was clearly in high esteem.
“Thank you for this, Alfred; already, I feel myself becoming more familiar with good Yharnam,” Jaune smiled at the bulky man.
Alfred beamed at his words, “Ahh, I am pleased I can offer a colleague my aide and the pleasure of good conversation.”
“I will be on my way now, but perhaps we will be fortunate to cross paths some more this evening,” Jaune spoke, bowing to the more senior Hunter.
Alfred nodded affirmingly at his words, sending Jaune off with a lowered head, “I bid thee farewell; it has been a pleasure. May the Good Blood guide your way.”
Jaune walked away, already considering this new information as he made his way to his next destination.
Now, though, he was even more driven to see this Holy Medium, but for that, he would require another ‘holy’ relic. The Chalice he sought at Old Yharnam and the boon, if any, it would grant him… hopefully, it would see him able to conquer the Grand Cathedral.
Then, he would be one step closer to the Paleblood.
… Or at least so he hoped.
YVYVYVYVY
Negan felt chilled. The only issue was that he knew for a fact that he shouldn’t; the stark contrast of the growing warm dampness around his hand only helped emphasise this point. He was pretty sure holding the gaping hole in his gut wasn’t accomplishing anything, given that the bullet had entered through his back. There was just another hole for the blood to escape through.
But seeing as there wasn’t a better alternative, Negan accepted that this was the best he could do.
‘Focus,’ Negan scolded himself, forcing his eyes back up to the tall, masked figures before him.
The one in red was closest; they were as tall as their compatriot but of a smaller frame and dressed… well, truthfully dressed to impress, which was odd. It wasn’t exactly what he expected a White Fang member to wear, but it wouldn’t be out of place on a Huntsman.
They were a weird bunch; you never could tell what you were getting when you hired a Huntsman.
Negan always enjoyed that aspect; the few times he had to hire a Huntsman, it was always so curious to see who would show up. Not Atlesian Huntsman… not unless they were old, and those were rare enough, but the other nations made the hiring process exciting.
Such interesting characters, weird colourful outfits, exotic weapons that were mind-boggling to behold… yeah, the crouched one was more like a Huntsman.
The big guy, though, screamed White Fang.
Cement grey clothes, white armour, Grimm Mask and a big fuck off chainsaw.
He fit the mould of a scary Faunus extremist much better than his well-dressed friend.
But no, the well-dressed one also had the Grimm Mask and with the horns… and blood.
The well-dressed one had blood on his mask.
Negan wondered if he was aware of it, if he even cared, who it came from… How many had they killed downstairs? Not all of them had been security.
And yet he was here on the roof, crouched before him.
… Calling him Schnee.
‘Of course, this was all because of fucking Jacques.’
“You don’t look so good,” the well-dressed one mocked, his tone arid.
Negan smiled, “I don’t feel great either.”
‘Give them nothing, don’t let this prick have a fucking inch,’ Negan thought furiously as his legs began to feel numb.
“… Smart…” the one in black tsked, taking a knee, getting comfortable. “Do you know who we are?”
“Oh gods, are you going to monologue?” Negan asked, genuinely worried the answer would be yes.
His response was the feel of his jaw being punished by a swing of the sheathed blade the one in black wielded. It cracked against his jaw, and the throbbing ache bloomed out to caress the entirety of his right cheek.
“Answer the question, or this can become a lot more painful for you,” the horned one threatened, his tone not emotional but carrying his severity all the same.
Negan ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, tasting the coppery tang of blood, “… If I had to guess, I would say you are… White Fang?”
The big one growled, the still rumbling chainsaw in his grip revving.
Negan wondered if a chainsaw was a quick death… it didn’t sound like one.
The black and red one held up a hand, stalling the big one and his frightening weapon.
It was dripping.
Negan looked at the small puddle beneath it, surrounded by little splatters… it was blood.
“Did I guess wrong?” Negan asked Sass, not leaving his voice.
He wouldn’t let it.
“… No.”
Negan didn’t smile, but only because he could see the kneeling one was looking for a reason to swing.
“So… I guess that means everyone below is dead, huh… you certainly live up to the fucking news articles, don’t you,” Negan mumbled, noticing his lips felt… cumbersome.
“Your security was… lacking.”
“Bastard… they were people,” Negan growled.
The one in black had the audacity to snort, “Humans… SDC humans at that.”
Negan bit the inside of his cheek, holding the clarity of the sharp stabbing pain, “No, they weren’t, not all of them. Do you know how many security details operate at a venue like this?”
“By our counts, there were 12… plus the security firm contacted by the studio themselves… sound about right?”
That was exactly right; Lo had told him as much in her usual security briefing.
The redhead continued, “How unsurprising, acting the victim… a Schnee.” The redhead turned and spat as if ridding his mouth of a foul taste. “Your false righteousness is nauseating, as is this ‘empathy’ for your fellow man.”
“Your grandstanding doesn’t change that you are no better than a murderous bandit,” Negan spat, though his mouth was too dry for anything to come out.
“Better a bandit than a Schnee, I could spend the rest of my life killing, and I would be lucky to approach even a fraction of the misery and terror left in the wake of your company’s fucking evil,” the redhead sneered, getting back to his feet.
Negan felt cold now; his whole body was wracked with a chill that seemed to crawl over his entire form.
His vision swam, and he felt nauseous.
And despite his brave face, he was fucking terrified.
This was not how he had planned to die.
“Call me a bandit, call me a monster, because nothing you can call me will ever be as filthy as the word Schnee,” he spat the last word, his disgust blatant.
Then Negan heard the sound of his sword being drawn.
It was red.
Bright red.
Dust Infused Steel, if Negan had to guess… he knew at least that much, had to, had to have some pride as an Atlesian.
The redhead began to speak, “I know the wor-“
“Negan!”
Negan blinked, his vision swimming as he looked towards the shout and felt his heart rise into his throat. “Lo!” He tried to yell, but the words came out weak and lacking; she looked at him all the same.
His vision wasn’t the best, but even still, he could tell she wasn’t in the best state.
Lo was usually the vision of put-togetherness, from her styled curls to her bodyguard apparel. A three-piece suit, faded blue undershirt, thin black tie, and black jacket done up with two buttons.
No vest said it was ‘redundant’ when she had an armoured one on underneath.
Now though…
Her usual neat black curls were dishevelled and loose, where usually they were kept precise and tight. Their usual volume and poof were gone, leaving them to droop more on her head, showing off her Faunus trait.
One of her horns was visible.
Her skin was marred with soot, blood or some other substance, and the stain on her cheek smeared up to her ear.
Her outfit was in disarray; her jacket was gone, her tie was missing, and her faded blue shirt was missing a sleeve and held closed with only a couple of buttons. Her vest underneath was visible; the armoured attire was the best he could buy, and with her, Aura was more protection than she had ever needed to date.
Now, he wished he had splurged for more.
She had her gloves on, the metallic points on her knuckles gleaming in the firelight.
She kicked a piece of the flaming airship out of her way as she marched forward, her face becoming more visible.
She was pissed; her teeth grit in a snarl, and her eyes ablaze with rage, their almost yellow colour appearing molten.
“Lo-“ Negan grunted through the pain and fatigue, “Run!”
The one with the massive chainsaw put himself between the redhead and Lo; his voice was gravelly as he spoke, “Drop your weapons and surrender.”
Negan wanted to cry when Lo looked at him; he might already be doing so, but he couldn’t tell; there was only the pain in his gut and the cold now.
And the fear.
“… Would kind of defeat the purpose of being a bodyguard, wouldn’t it?”
The big one revved his chainsaw and brought it up, ready to wield, “I warned you.”
Lo was a blur, and it wasn’t just Negan’s blood loss. Her pistol was drawn in a flash as she dumped a complete magazine. Three of her bullets managed to get past his guard and impact the White Fang brute's torso.
Then, she was within punching distance.
Lo had never favoured any weapon over her fists, citing that they were the most reliable thing she could ever wield.
She had proven this accurate over their many years together, and never was it more evident than right now.
From the very first punch, Lo had the other guy entirely outclassed, and the momentum of their fight quickly shifted further in her favour. Lo’s metal-tipped knuckles began to crash into the larger Faunus’s body with stunning frequency.
And that was before she started using her Semblance.
‘Shadow Boxer.’
Lo could shrug off her own Aura to create a physical copy of herself that could hit just as hard as she could. She had used it to great effect in a fighting pit in Vacuo, where Negan had recruited her.
Now, she was using it to take apart the White Fang brute.
She was a blur, two technically, and her assault left the big one reeling, his Aura constantly flaring the grey glow nearly constant as Lo danced around his attacks. His swings, while deadly, were too slow or interrupted as Lo moved around him.
Whenever he would be about to score a hit on her, she would redon her Aura and parry the blow with her gloves. Whenever he was about to score a blow on her double, it would dissipate and leave him exposed.
Lo was winning.
But Negan wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“Lo!”
His shout must have been warning enough as she redonned her Aura and tanked the hit from the redhead that sent her skidding back.
Her Aura flickered, and the redhead tapped his sword on the ground as he glanced at his panting companion.
Negan wanted to cry.
“No… Lo, leave, go!”
Lo ignored him and charged back in, her fists raised, but the fight was notably more even; she was at a disadvantage without her ability to overwhelm a single opponent.
But still, she didn’t yield.
“Negan! Hold on!” She screamed as she managed to land a blow on the redhead. Her hands sparked as she activated her Dust, her last ace in the hole.
Negan watched, dreaded, and hoped as Lo managed to push them back bit by bit, the big one being hammered far worse as he lacked his ally’s speed. By the grace of her Semblance and speed, Lo was landing hit after hit and managing to avoid reprisal. Both used long-reaching melee weapons and were forced to keep their distance because of it.
Lo made sure to punish this fact.
Instead of letting the fight become two-on-one, Lo forced each White Fang member to spend their attention avoiding each other and her attacks. Her feet glided on the floor as she weaved between the two, forcing them apart and breaking their guards.
Her tactics were brutally efficient, so much so that the bulky one’s Aura was now flashing as he received the most punishment.
But even the red one could only defend, blocking Lo’s many furious jabs with his sword.
Lo’s Aura wrapped back around her to avoid another swing from the chainsaw; Lo used the opportunity to enhance her next blow, slamming a haymaker punch into the redhead’s sword. The force was such that it sent him skidding back, the ring of clashed metal lingering in the air as was the flash of static sparks.
Then he sheathed his sword.
“Cover!” the redhead bellowed, and immediately, the big one stepped in front of him, his chainsaw swinging wildly. But Lo was untouchable, her Semblance once more active and punishing the larger Faunus.
But she couldn’t see.
Negan watched in horror as the redhead began to glow an ominous red as the world around him seemed darker in comparison.
“Lo!” Negan screamed at the top of his lungs, his throat feeling as if it tore, the sound coming out broken and desperate.
“Clear!” The redhead barked.
The bulky one threw himself out of the way, landing face down with his hands over his head, his weapon skidding away.
Lo redonned her Aura.
The red one unsheathed his blade and stepped.
A crescent of red painted the evening sky bloody.
The sound of an Aura shattering was thunderous in Negan’s ears.
The red one was behind Lo, his arm out, blade drawn.
Lo staggered.
She looked ready to collapse.
Her shirt was gone completely.
Her vest had a massive gouge in it.
But there was no blood.
She stomped her foot down, the sound like a gunshot as she pivoted on the spot and spun, her arm tucked to her side, fist cocked back.
The redhead turned too slow.
Her fist drove under his chin, lifting him and throwing him over the landing pad entirely, his mask clattering to the floor as he disappeared, the sparks around her gloves dying as she did.
“Adam!” the big one roared and moved to attack Lo.
Lo was ready as he made to lunge for his chainsaw; her boot was there to collide with his temple, sending him rolling with the sound of his Aura shattering.
He endured it as well as Lo did, staggering back to his feet, his mask cracked.
“Shit… I was really hoping you were the type to pass out,” Lo huffed.
“Thank the Schnees,” he growled, “passing out during a shift was punished severely.”
Lo didn’t speak any more and just walked forward, the big guy matching her pace. Without his weapon, he was quicker, but Lo still outpaced him with ease, and without Aura, her punches were far more devastating.
But he wouldn’t go down.
“Why!” Lo growled, driving a punch into his ribs.
“Won’t!” Another to his gut.
“You!” A hook that he blocked with his forearm.
“Go!” A kick to his genitals brought him to his knees at last.
“Down!” Lo dropped her elbow onto the back of his head, sending the large Faunus to the ground, only his arms stopping him from being prone.
Lo lifted her boot, ready to finish things.
She never saw the blur of red and black.
But she felt the sword punch through her gut.
Lo was shoved away from the downed Faunus, the demasked redhead snarling as he tried to shove the entirety of the blade through her middle. Her scream was piercing and was pain and fury.
Negan whimpered, “No…’
Lo grasped the blade, her legs shaking as she forced her body to remain standing, her arms doing much the same as the redhead continued to push against her.
Her arms faltered.
Negan watched as his closest friend was fully impaled, the blade erupting out her back as the hilt was driven into her abdomen. The taller redheaded Faunus snarled down at his bodyguard, his unmasked face distorted to his eyes, but his snarl was evident.
“Pet!” He spat as he twisted the blade, making Lo gag.
Her left hand latched onto his horn, dragging his head down to hers.
This resulted in the redhead drawing his blade up, causing Lo to cough as blood sputtered out of her throat.
But she smiled.
“Feral,” She spat back, her blood landing across his exposed face. The redhead was silent at her barb; he didn’t move until her hand slid from his horn to his face, which caused him to flinch violently.
A wet, mocking laugh escaped Lo’s mouth, “Nice beauty mark.”
The redhead tore his blade free of Lo, blood gushing out violently as she collapsed to her knees, blood dripping from her parted lips.
She turned to Negan.
She mouthed something.
‘Sorry’
Negan watched on in horror as the redhead slammed his foot into her chest, launching her backwards with all the force of a cannonball.
Lo’s limp body slammed into the downed airship with crushing force, so much so that the entire thing began to list to the side.
More and more, it tipped until it fell over the side, Lo’s body disappearing over the edge with the flaming wreckage looking like a bloody splatter on the side of the downed aircraft.
Negan wanted to puke.
The redhead was checking on the other one, who had lifted his cracked mask to throw up.
Negan’s observation was noted as the redhead turned to him, and his unmasked face became an expression of pure loathing.
Negan felt numb as he marched over; no fear, no terror… just cold.
He looked down at the blood pooled all around him.
‘Oh… that’s mine…’
A hand wrapped around his face forced him to look up into a mismatched pair of eyes, one glacial blue, the other a deadened grey orb.
They were both equally as cold.
“You’re going to die now, Schnee,” he proclaimed, placing his sword against Negan’s throat.
Negan looked back to where Lo had disappeared.
His friend.
Who died trying to save him.
Negan took a breath; it hurt and felt lacking… but it was enough.
Enough for him to make up his mind to at least have the decency to die like his friend.
Enough to pretend that he is braver than he is.
Enough to speak.
“… You failed,” Negan whispered.
The blade pressed harder; Negan felt the skin split but didn’t flinch.
“What?”
Negan rolled his head back to face the Faunus, holding a sword to his throat.
Then he smiled.
“You failed,” Negan repeated himself.
Without the mask, Negan could see the confusion as quickly as he could see the terrible brand on the young Faunus’s face.
And fuck, he was young.
Negan wondered if the kid was even old enough to drink.
Then his eyes moved towards the maimed grey eye that stuck out even in the less-than-solid light of the blazing wreckage. It didn’t matter that darkness was beginning to bleed around the edge of his vision or that he was beginning to lose the ability to focus.
He would recognise that logo anywhere.
SDC.
Schnee Dust Company.
‘Fucking Jacques… I always knew he would be the reason I fucking die,’ Negan thought bitterly, annoyed that even now, in his final moment, his brother's influence was still present.
Negan licked his lips, not that it did anything, “I get why you’re here; I get the murderous rage and all that…” Negan smiled, sure it was a sickly and wonky thing.
“But you fucked up… cause I’m not a Schnee.”
Silence.
Negan stared, his head hanging low on his neck, the weight of it suddenly too much for his tired frame, the fires around the crackling loudly. The warm night air meant nothing as Negan began to shake, the cold grasp of death tightening around him even more.
“You’re lying,” the redhead declared.
Negan’s smile grew more authentic, “No… no, I’m not, Negan Fook Gelé… at your services, you murderous cunt.”
The redhead looked confused now.
“Gelé as in Jacques Schnee’s-“
“Yes, Jacques fucking Schnee…” Negan was slowing now; it was all becoming so much more difficult.
He couldn’t move his fingers.
“Congratulations… you killed his disowned embarrassment of an older brother.”
The redhead's confusion disappeared to be replaced with a look of steel.
Negan wouldn’t have it.
“All this… for the one family member no one cares about, that isn't even a Schnee, isn't even a part of the fucking company…” Negan tried to laugh; he needed this to hurt.
He would take everything from this fucker; his victory would be ash.
“You blew it, all this effort, the prep… what bridges did you burn for this? Wasted, they won’t even mourn me, you feral fuck!” Negan’s rage was real; his hate was real, and his laughter was biting.
It sounded like Jacques’s.
The redhead grabbed his hair, tugging him up; pain flared to life as the wound on his gut was stretched.
He groaned, tears springing to the edges of his eyes.
But didn’t stop the weak laughter.
“Others will still know! They will rally-“
“They will see-“ Negan stopped to catch his breath, his lungs filling uselessly. “Just another dead body… not a Schnee… not an SDC big wig… a retired old musician…”
The redhead paused.
And Negan saw it.
The triumph, the sense of achievement… he watched it die as the redhead caught on.
“Take your bow… White Fang terrorist killed a bunch of studio execs and a musician… enjoy your headline… sounds like page three to me…” Negan whispered his words, coming out through barely moving lips.
It was taking everything he had to smile.
But he had to.
He would take everything from this monster.
The redhead's silence was music to his ears.
Through fluttering eyes, Negan watched as the bulky one of the pair handed the redhead back his mask. He watched as the horrific brand was covered, and the masked eyes once more came to rest on him.
“… Gelé huh…”
“Go fuck yourself…”
“… Close enough.”
Negan closed his eyes, but his smile remained.
He won.
‘For you Lo…’
Negan opened one eye as wide as he could and saw the redhead pull his arm back.
‘Weiss… you’re gonna do great Snowfl-
YVYVYVYVY
“Sir…”
Adam turned towards Gekko, his second looking at him patiently, without query or doubt.
Stalwart.
“Mission accomplished,” Adam declared, turning back to face the bloody head he held in his grasp.
‘… Still smiling.’
“Congratulations, sir… one down,” Gekko nodded, the man’s goals ever aligned with Adam’s.
“Indeed…” Adam mumbled, looking at the man whom he had just killed.
“Is everything all right?” Gekko asked, noticing Adam’s inspection of the head.
Adam nodded, his gaze turning to his blade, seeing the slightly darker streak of blood that decorated its edge.
“… It feels… lacking,” Adam admitted to his most trusted ally.
Gekko didn’t reply immediately but moved to stand on Adam’s good side.
“… Though related to Jacques, he is but one of many… we face a Hydra not unlike the one of ancient myth,” Gekko declared.
“I’ve never fought a Hydra,” Adam admitted tossing Negan Fook Gelé’s head onto his crumpled body.
“I knew someone in the mines who said he saw one once… knew the old tale as well,” Gekko explained.
Adam turned his head, curious about what point his comrade was trying to make.
“The legend goes that a Hydra once engaged in a century of terror over the northwestern coast of Mistral, so massive and terrible that it was thought to be a god,” Gekko began.
“An Elder Grimm?”
“If I had to guess, I would say so; the legends say it was big enough to create a swamp where it dwelled…. It sounds like an Elder, but this legend was around before the West of Mistral was even a single kingdom.”
Adam nodded; many legends from before the formation of any historical kingdom were to be taken with a grain of salt.
The Grimm were terrible… but the monsters of legend were another thing entirely.
‘Just because no one has seen a Titan…’
“The point is that the legend rings true to reality,” Gekko continued, lifting his mask partially to wipe away some blood. The bodyguard had been… impressive; even Adam could admit that, in single combat, her talents would have made her lethal.
‘Move as a pack; your greatest weapon is your unity. Alone, even the greatest predator can become prey.’
“Essentially, they are near impossible to kill with a thick hide, toxic breath and a regenerative ability that is ranked amongst the best… but they are not invincible,” Gekko explained, refixing his mask and turning to face his leader. “You have to approach them, one step at a time, take them apart piece by piece… and scourge the wounds with fire.”
“Fire?”
“Indeed, fire seems to slow or even stall a Hydra’s regeneration… the legendary one of history was beaten by a boy led by an old man who showed him how to bait the hydra into swallowing Fire Dust,” Gekko shrugged, “that’s not the point though.”
Adam quirked a brow.
“The point, sir, is that the SDC, the Schnee and those like them are not a monster we can best so simply. Where it so we could merely focus on eliminating Jacques Schnee and be done with it… but it is not that easy, sir; we face a Hydra of legend with numerous heads whose poison is as lethal as it is destructive… and we must vanquish it one step at a time,” Gekko growled, his hate for the Schnee’s shining through.
“One step at a time…” Adam acknowledged, looking at his blade.
He had expected the look of Schnee blood adorning his weapons to leave him feeling more fulfilled.
‘I’m not a Schnee…’
“Though he was not the target, I would have preferred… the blood of their dynasty has been spilled all the same,” Adam admitted.
Adam turned to Gekko, flicking his blade and casting the blood of Negan Fook Gelé across the floor.
“One down…” Adam nodded.
“One down,” Gekko agreed.
Adam turned and walked away from the headless corpse of Negan; though his victory felt lacking, it was a win.
He would take it as such.
“Disable the jammers and get us connected to the HQ. Tell them we are en route and to call everyone back, mission accomplished. Once we are back, I want debriefings, and then I want us stocked and packed to move out… we have a Hydra to slay,” Adam ordered to Gekko as the two descended back into the building.
Gekko saluted, “Yes, sir.”
Adam marched into the room situated on the top floor and found his Chimera unit looking at him expectantly; Adam knew that even with their masks, they were all waiting. His Faunus, some of whom had been with him since Mistral.
Who had followed him to Vale, knowing it was practically an exile.
‘They needed this… we needed this.’
“Sir?” One spoke up from an overturned table where he was having his arm bandaged.
Adam allowed a smile, measured, practised, a silent signal of appreciation—the smile of a commander, the slight break that allowed him to connect with his troops.
“Mission accomplished… the Schnee is dead,” Adam declared, steady voice carrying easily in the silent room.
His Chimera’s reactions were suppressed; there was no cheering, but the room was alive with energy, each of his Faunus revelling in the achievement.
They had struck the untouchables across the brow.
‘A retired old musician.’
“Fall in; we are moving out,” Adam ordered, taking point, Gekko lagging behind as his own Aura was shattered.
As he marched down the blood-stained stairs, the few spent casings clinking as his feet carried him back towards the first of the secure floors, Adam was in a state of conflict. Torn between allowing himself to feel accomplished and burdened knowing…
…Knowing that Negan was correct.
The media would eviscerate this attack; it would be downplayed, struck and worded in such a way as to be nothing more than a violent incident. The waves this would generate would be shallow, unlikely to even leave the borders of Vale as anything more than passing news.
And the Schnee’s wouldn’t even blink.
The death of Jacques's brother, a brother who, if he was being truthful, was nothing more than a forgotten old man in the eyes of his brother.
They had risked much to accomplish this… they would need to ensure nothing else went wrong tonight lest the entire operation be counted as a loss.
Adam would have to play this carefully, balancing on the edge of triumphant but not allowing himself to revel in things. He needed to present this as the win it was and nothing more; he couldn’t afford for this to be inflated. Less Siena and her simpering shadows use it to smother him.
He had won the battle…
Now, he had to win the report.
YVYVYVYVY
Sometimes, a situation spirals out of control, and one is faced with no alternative but to be carried along. Surrendering any semblance of control, planning, or forethought to focus on keeping one's head above the tugging current.
To focus solely on survival.
Oto had never felt so swept away as he had now.
After clearing the city limits, Simon immediately directed the others to the location on his map. The area listed as Site B was one of his responsibilities if Plan A did not go accordingly.
Site B was the target designation for the private airfield being used as the dock for the Schnee’s private airship.
It was one of his responsibilities that should, for some reason, the saboteur team for Site B fail, he was to use his ordinance to eliminate the Schnee vehicle from afar. Should he fail, he would disengage and head for a safe house immediately.
This was, of course, assuming the already confirmed failure of Plan A and that all other failsafes regarding Plan A and Plan B had failed. He was quite literally meant to be amongst the last of their options, a fact he realised was likely due to his age and inexperience.
Unlike on-site teams, he was meant to maintain a degree of radio contact… his prolonged silence would likely already have caused a stir, but he hoped it didn’t cause issues.
The same could not be said for what he was doing now.
“We can’t be here,” Oto whispered furiously, looking towards the large imposing walls of the Atlesian air base.
They were towering, as they had to be. A good twenty or so meters up if Oto had to guess, and the construction was solid.
Mobile Fortress Walls were an invention of the Great War that had seen implementation worldwide. Of course, they came in many different shapes and sizes, with their specialties ranging from barricades to emergency cover in a firefight.
The structure class ones were a different breed altogether and were used by only the most wealthy. The amount of Earth Dust that went into making just one was staggering, with each section of wall being made of multiple modules…
SDC Lien hard at work.
The result couldn’t be denied, however. Erecting a defensible position to protect all those wonderfully expensive goodies with a speed that shamed any labour force made them vital to installations like airbases… and work camps.
As they sat hidden in a grouping of foliage behind a crop of trees, Oto didn’t miss the sentry guns situated along the corners of the base or the searchlights and cameras. The sight of them instilled a genuine fear as such guns were of a similar scale to the base walls, their massiveness being similar.
“Shut up,” Simon growled, shoving Oto into a tree. “His bag,” Simon ordered, Sandy handing him the thing.
“You gonna blow up the walls?” Sandy asked excitedly.
“No, are you out of your mind? We will be ripped to pieces,” Oto hissed.
Instead of pulling out the rocket launcher, Simon pulled out the binoculars; the simian Faunus peered through them without saying a word. Silence reigned over the group before Simon lowered them and turned to Oto, his eyes wild.
“How do we get in?”
“In?” Oto muttered.
“Don’t be smart, mutt. How the fuck do we get into the airfield?” Simon growled, slamming his chest into Oto and shoving the smaller Faunus back into the tree again.
“I don’t know! Why the hell do you think I know?”
“It’s on your map-“
“Yes to watch, I was a lookout!” Oto exclaimed, gesturing to the binoculars in Simon’s grasp.
“Don’t act fucking smart,” Simon warned with a manic fury on his face that made Oto remember Simon’s temperament was less than level.
He had never liked Simon, not ever. He had learned to deal with Sandy and his lot, and there were others in the Cell he only tolerated. But never Simon. He was no believer in the cause; he wasn’t there looking to help uplift Faunus.
He was a thug.
Oto realised just how different Simon was from what a White Fang member should be. He had thought he was a thug who was at least on his side, an ally if one he disliked. But he wasn’t… they weren’t on the same side.
Simon looked ready to kill him.
Oto swallowed. It was loud, and the others heard, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I was on lookout duty; I don’t know how to get into the airfield… I was only given the rocket launcher as a last resort.”
“For what?” Sandy asked.
“If the Schnee escaped, I was supposed to use it at first sight of his private airship leaving the airfield… I was supposed to ground it,” Oto answered honestly, still feeling very much in danger with Simon looming over him.
His answer must have been placating enough as Simon backed off, and Oto was granted the ability to breathe easier.
Simon, though, was looking at the map again, his eyes shifting between the map and the base.
“What’s this?” Simon asked, pointing to the scrunched-together writing under the Site B label.
“Just notes,” Oto shrugged, a snippy part of his mind wondering if Simon asked because he couldn’t read.
Simon’s lips pulled back over his teeth, “About what, prick?”
Oto raised his hands, “That’s the team tasked with sabotaging the ship and their radio frequency.”
“… Contact them,” Simon ordered after a moment.
“I can’t,” Oto responded swiftly.
He didn’t even manage a breath before one of his ears was grasped in a violent grip, and he was thrown onto the ground once more. Simon’s weight pressed into his back, his knee lodged atop his lower spine, his odorous breath washing over his face.
“Listen, hear you, little worthless shit; let me paint the picture for you; I will kill you. I will beat you until your Aura breaks and then rip your fucking ears off! Do you understand me? I will clip you and rip your fucking head off!”
Oto was in agony as Simon yanked his head back by his sensitive ears.
If not for his Aura, he was sure they would have torn off by now.
Simon gave one last tug before slamming him into the dirt; a swift boot to his chest followed as Simon got back to his feet.
“Now contact them!”
Oto coughed and rolled over to look at Simon, “No radio…”
“What.”
“I don’t have my radio,” Oto huffed into the dirt.
Simon’s rage-filled gaze was finally diverted towards the others, Sandy and his group, who all took an immediate step back.
Oto took no comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the only one who was afraid.
“Well!” Simon roared at the lot of them.
“What?” Sandy responded, genuinely baffled.
“Which one of you has a fucking radio?” Simon roared again, his fist slamming into a tree, shaking it.
Oto wondered if the Grimm or the Atlesians would find them first.
Some scrambling and two more death threats from Simon resulted in Oto being handed a radio that looked like it had been used as a chew toy. Oto looked back at Simon, who was for once not directing his furious gaze back but instead eyeing Sandy.
Oto sighed, “Has this thing even been charged?” he asked rhetorically as he flicked it on and found it on a local radio station.
‘There goes that hope,’ Oto breathed, quickly dialling to the right channel.
He looked up one last time only to find Simon staring at him like a rabid dog, his busted, protruding canine making him look even more vicious. Needing no further encouragement, Oto lifted the radio to his mouth and spoke.
“What’s the good word…”
The others looked at him confused, which made Oto want to roll his eyes, but he resisted as he didn’t need to incite Simon further. Any one of them should have been able to do it.
This was all basic Cell knowledge.
‘But they aren’t really White Fang, are they.’
“Beneath our peaceful masks…” a voice over the radio replied.
“White Fangs, need access to the airbase, small group, best way in?” Oto spoke quickly, not wanting to risk the radio dying on him.
There was silence for a moment, the others all looking on dumbly, save Simon, who seemed to be just waiting for a reason to attack.
“Service door, west entrance five minutes, stay low, the window will be small, wait for the door to open.”
Oto threw the radio to Simon, who caught it with ease.
“There you go, best get going,” Oto nodded.
“You’re coming with,” Simon sneered, dragging Oto back up.
Oto contemplated attacking but realised he would likely be mauled, “Why? You have your way in.”
“Cause I fucking said so,” Simon chuckled, shoving Oto forward.
Oto walked, knowing that if he tried to run, Simon would pursue and here outside the city… there were too many ways for things to go wrong.
Resigned Oto marched towards the airfield, hurried along by Simon, who marched at his back, his voice low as he kept Sandy’s group close.
Oto, caught up in the flow and being dragged around as a mere victim to the rabid Faunus’s whims, found himself wishing for something he never thought he would.
‘… Never in my entire life did I think I would be wishing for a Grimm attack.’
Comments
Erik Johanson
I want Adam to Die, just saying. Negan was the Goat and the churlish cretin known as Adam killed him. He needs to die for this.
Dalton Love
That would be amazing!!!
JDOG_TD
Ya know, despite how unlikely it may be, I’m kinda hoping Lo somehow survived that fight. Would be satisfying to see Adam’s actions coming back to bite him in the future.
AzedyTheYeti
You just made my night.
