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G.N. Chapter 40
🕑 Added 2024-02-29 06:05:55 +0000 UTCChapter 40 Up and Down
He knew what he needed to do.
He had wasted a sparse amount of time searching out Gherman to make further inquiries, but the old man had once more pulled his usual disappearing act. Jaune gave it up like a bad joke after a short while.
He had to prepare.
Cathedral Ward… he knew he needed to conquer it, but the creature in the Grand Cathedral was too much for him, its speed and strength superior to his own and the ability to heal its injuries… Jaune needed an equaliser. Much as he had once retraced his steps back to Iosefka’s Clinic, he would do so again, though this time his roaming would be in search of something.
A Chalice.
‘I should visit Iosefka. Gilbert too, now that I think about it…’ Jaune stopped putting away his weapons.
“… Damn it,” Jaune breathed, remembering the unfinished business he still had in Central Yharnam.
He still needed to talk to Gascoigne's daughter.
The girl who was now an orphan.
Who he had made an orphan.
“… Not… N-not yet,” Jaune whispered, tucking the last of his arsenal back away before closing the chest.
He hurried out of the workshop, looking to the Messengers in the bath. He had burned through quite a bit of his Blood Echoes to repair his weapons, but it would not do for him to venture out unprepared. He noticed the Doll was absent from her favourite spot as he moved to the Messengers but paid it no heed.
“Good evening, friends,” Jaune greeted the mercantile Messengers.
The chorus of moans and groans he received was equal parts greeting as it was the little ones hawking their goods.
“Aggressive as always, friends,” Jaune muttered, seeing one of the Messengers hold aloft a Blood Vial, its little arms stretching out eagerly.
More groans were his response, but he didn’t expect anything different.
“… So… how do you guys feel about discounts?”
The groaning stopped.
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Jaune sighed.
A few of the bath Messengers crossed their arms; their unimpressed looks piercing and unyielding in the face of Jaune’s query. Jaune was about to apologise when he felt a gentle tug on his hair from behind.
Turning his head, he came face to face with Stitch, their bright yellow eyes and lipless grin rising over the back of Jaune’s shoulder. The little Messenger, whom Jaune had come to learn had an appreciation for… collecting… gave him a happy wave.
“Burghh!”
“Hello, Stitch; what brought you over?”
“Seraghhh!”
“Huh?”
Jaune might be able to communicate with some of the Messengers thanks to their expressive nature and his familiarity with them, but… well, there were bumps in the method. On such bump was that when the Messengers were communicating mostly through verbal cues, Jaune was left to do a lot of guesswork.
Stitch rolled his large yellow eyes and reached behind Jaune’s ear of all things…
Where he pulled out a coin.
“… A coin?” Jaune wondered, looking at the curious little token. Oddly enough, he remembered finding a few in Central Yharnam, though mainly from the ogres. “Do you guys accept coins?” Jaune asked the bath Messengers.
Stitch swatted at his cheek, though it didn’t hurt. The Messenger pulled himself over Jaune’s shoulder, waved the coin, and groaned at the bath Messengers.
Their interest was apparent.
There was talking and gesturing amongst the clumped-together little ones before one held out four fingers to a collection of nods and affirmative groans.
“Four?” Jaune mumbled.
Stitch flicked the coin toward the other Messengers, and Jaune was swiftly rewarded with the sensation of Blood Echoes pooling in his core.
He was stunned, “Wait! I can sell things?” Jaune yelped.
He received nods all around.
“… I’ll be right back.”
YVYVYVYVY
It seemed that while Jaune was all too ready to follow the guidance of Anima, perhaps he should be trying to imitate the habits of Stitch. After rummaging through his chest (trying not to think about the fact that the inventory within had changed from when he last opened it), Jaune found a lack of things to sell.
Well,… not a lack of items but rather a lack of variety.
“You want the pebbles?”
“Murgh.”
“… The pebbles…”
The Messenger shrugged.
Jaune turned to Stitch, who just gave him a thumbs up, a gesture Jaune was beginning to regret teaching his tiny companions.
“… Very well then,” Jaune shrugged before handing over a bowl of pebbles, receiving a small surge of Echoes for his efforts. It was a testament to Stitch’s kleptomania that he had an entire bowl of hundreds of peculiar spherical pebbles.
By the end of it all, Jaune was no longer destitute and was more able to afford the prices of the little ones, though he would need to be… stingy.
“No, no knives, I’m afraid,” Jaune waved one of the Messengers off. “Hmm… No Molotovs, knives… I’ll skip the bullets as well,” Jaune huffed.
A couple of the Messengers were glaring at him now.
“Oi, none of that; I will be back with more echoes later,” Jaune scolded.
They remained unimpressed.
“Look, give me three… Yeah, give me three Blood Vials; cursed as it may be, I don’t really have a bloody say in the matter right now if I want to find that Paleblood stuff… And a Bold Hunter’s Mark; I still owe Eileen for gifting me such a useful thing,” Jaune uttered to himself.
With that, he was all but broke, the well of power in his core practically empty; he would need to hunt to refill it. His mind turned over what he needed to best the creature in the Grand Cathedral.
‘… A lot… I am going to need a lot,’ Jaune thought, remembering how, despite his numerous attempts, he was left broken and beaten.
“I hope you are right about all this, Gherman,” Jaune muttered, carrying his loot back towards the Workshop, wondering what use a chalice of all things could have. “Maybe I am supposed to sell it?” Jaune thought, entering into the church-like building.
“Good Hunter.”
Jaune turned to find the Doll sitting at one of the tables, a book open in front of her.
“Doll,” Jaune greeted with a smile, “Pardon me, I am just preparing to head out once more. I will do my best not to disturb your reading.”
The Doll stood, not so swiftly as to appear hurried, but given her usual grace of moment, it was a little jarring to see her move so.
“No, no, I am not at all bothered; I was merely waiting for you, hence the book-“
“What are you reading?”
The Doll paused.
“Pardon?”
“Your book,” Jaune gestured with his head as he laid out his recently bought goods on the workbench. “What’s it about?”
The Doll was quiet, her delicate features frozen as she turned to look at the still-open reading material. Her fingers reached out to rest on the paper; to Jaune’s eyes, it seemed as if she was pondering his question or perhaps the nature of the book.
“Poetry… it’s a book about poetry,” the Doll responded.
Jaune smiled, “That’s nice. Do you care for poetry?”
The Doll went silent in her contemplation; after a moment of consideration, she spoke again. “I am… perturbed by it,” the Doll admitted, closing the book.
Jaune’s head tilted to the side, “How so?”
“The poems in this book speak of things I, a Doll, can not reckon with… perhaps someday, but for now, it seems… that to make sense of them, one needs some insight into their meanings,” the Doll explained.
Jaune walked over and laid eyes on the well-worn book; it was clearly well-read, the cover showing signs of creases and age. The pages from the side showed hints of weathering; the book, it would seem, was also well-travelled.
Jaune made a decision.
“You should read through it and pick your favourite poem, the one that intrigues you or, I suppose, perturbs you the most,” Jaune smiled.
“Why?”
“So you can share it with me; perhaps we could make sense of it together,” Jaune answered kindly, “Is that something you think you might be interested in?”
The Doll nodded once.
“Wonderful, I have something to look forward to then,” Jaune practically sang, his smile the widest it had been in a while.
The Doll’s head matched Jaune’s from before. There was a slight angling as she regarded the blond before her. Then, without preamble, she returned to the table and picked up a bundle of cloth.
“Here, I retrieved these from the little ones; they are once more in fit condition,” the Doll explained.
Jaune didn’t even need to glance at the bundle for longer than a moment, immediately recognising the dark leather of his coat and other attire. Curiously, he drew his coat from the pile, remembering well how large splits and tears marred it, the bottom having extensive fraying.
But not anymore.
It was pristine and in spectacular condition, and Jaune could not even see where it was damaged… He pondered if this was a mending akin to the alchemical repairing he had done on his weapons. The results certainly would point to something not done through other, more mundane means.
He quickly looked at the rest of the pile and found his leather armour in much the same state, that is to say, looking as good as it possibly could.
“Did you do this?” Jaune asked the Doll.
She nodded, “As I have once said, my place in this Dream is in service to you; I am here to look after you and this is done in that pursuit.”
Jaune was struck for words; he knew well that the Doll was here to aid him. She and Gherman both had made such a fact clear… even if how Gherman said it made Jaune immensely uncomfortable. But despite this fact and her own evident acceptance, Jaune could not see her actions in that light.
A mere thing to serve… he would not have it.
“Thank you… this means a lot to me; I had not even given proper thought to my attire condition,” Jaune admitted.
The Doll bowed in the face of his thanks, proffering him the rest of his attire, which he took gratefully.
With his gear attached, Jaune wasted no time slotting his blood vials on his person and tucking away his Bold Hunter's Mark. He had lost enough echoes already and would be cautiously proceeding; best not to let himself go stumbling mindlessly.
Once was sufficient.
Jaune then made his way back to his chest, opening it to reveal his weapons, except his Kirkhammer, which he left by the workbench. Picking what weapons he wanted was not a trial; he needed only to approach things logically.
He did not know much about the location of the Chalice, only that it was apparently in a burned town infested by Beasts. So, he would need weapons capable of bleeding the creatures. Luckily, he did not lack such.
Then, he needed to account for the fact that, at present, he lacked any bullets, which made the selection of a firearm simple as to forgo one.
But it did leave him with a spare hand…
“Reliability and speed,” Jaune mumbled, going for his Saw Cleaver and the Threaded Cane. Both were light and swift, though the Cane did provide a little more reach.
Jaune holstered his Saw Cleaver for now. The advantage of an empty hand could also not be understated. He turned to say goodbye to the Doll and found her holding out his hat, her peaceful visage looking at him with its usual degree of consideration.
“Farewell, good Hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world.”
Jaune took his hat from her, his gloved hand brushing her fingers. A part of him wondered if he should have kept his gloves off to feel her hands.
He disregarded such a foolish thought; he had felt her hands numerous times.
Eager to move away from his thoughts, he quickly donned his tricorn, his attire now fully restored save his cape, which he chose to leave off for the time being. It did serve to spare some of his coat from the splattering of viscera, but it was simply too short to be of any actual use.
He still wound up coated in blood…
With his hat atop his brow, he pulled up his cowl and bowed before the Doll.
“I shall endeavour to return in far better condition this time; till next we meet kind Doll,” Jaune said, folding at his waist.
The Doll gave a short bow in turn as etiquette required.
Then Jaune was off.
His destination…
Old Yharnam.
YVYVYVYVY
Inhale.
…
Exhale.
…
Inhale.
He smells blood, rich and metallic; it lingers on his tongue like a film. He smells sweat, perfumed by fear and anxiety; it leaves the feel of static in the back of his throat. He smells the charred air of gunfire, thick and heavy, diluted by distance and filtered air.
He smells humans…
He smells Faunus.
The difference is subtle, but the scent permeates about what isn’t human, the smell a distinct cowl around what is. The non-human scent dressed in fur, scales and feathers is thick in the nose and mixes with the lingering taste of blood.
Exhale.
…
Inhale.
They are above; the staccato of gunfire ripping through the building is evidence of the fight above, and the shifting melody of the battle lets him know the White Fang is not being halted.
Time is of the essence.
He scents their numbers; the clump that moved on is packed tight; they move together, and he is hard-pressed to make out more specifics than Faunus. But those that were made to remain…
Exhale.
“There are three guards down there; one is by the doors, the other two are further down… likely near the elevator if I had to guess,” Jaune whispered to the girls, though he was mostly talking to Jade.
“Just three?” Jade asked.
“A small group is far less noticeable than a large one,” Jaune supplied, adjusting his grip on the fire axe so that his hand rested beneath the head.
“Still… do they have Aura?” Jade questioned, keeping her voice at the same volume as Jaune’s.
“Don’t know.”
“What if they do?”
“Then I will break it,” Jaune sniffed, pulling his Scroll from his pants.
“Are you going to call for help?” Jade enquired, her face a mask of worry illuminated by the mobile device's screen.
Jaune pointed to the non-existent signal bars.
“What?”
“They wouldn’t want anyone calling for help,” Jaune shrugged.
“Then why the Scroll?” Sky whispered, far more affected by the situation than Jade… or at least showing as much.
“Because they turned off the lights,” Jaune breathed, fiddling with the screen.
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jaune ordered with a sense of finality as he turned his full attention to the girls. “I am going to take care of the guard near the event room. Do not follow me… when it is safe, I will return. Understood?”
“Yeah, okay,” Jade nodded.
“Sky?” Jaune spoke, focusing on the girl dressed in blue.
“I-… Okay…”
“Good girl,” Jaune smiled. “I’ll be right back,” Jaune rose to his full height, holding his Scroll in his left hand and the fire axe in his right.
“Careful,” Jade whispered.
Jaune just nodded.
He walked down the steps, silent as the grave, his eyes peering through the darkness with unnatural ease. He listened carefully to the sound of the gunfire above; knowing time was of the essence, he remained calm.
He reached the last step and froze.
He moved, slow, smooth, neck craning as he peered about the corner, serpentine in his approach.
A guard, singular, his regalia the same as the others Jaune had seen save the two who had led the group. Hood raised, face concealed by a white mask akin to those of the Grimm.
Jaune’s lips peeled back across his teeth at the sight of it.
Dark grey jacket, urban camo, cargo pants, ample pockets… supplies.
Knife on his hip, sheathed.
Rifle in hand… robust, automatic, suppressor on the muzzle… Vacuan.
It could also be used as a bludgeon.
Jaune moved back, breath sliding over his lips, his eyes closed.
He shifted his right arm, allowing his body to adjust to the axe's weight in his grip. It was heavy, of good weight, and had a solid head and haft built for splitting, puncturing, and breaking.
He opened his eyes and glanced at his Scroll; the screen was as dim as possible; he would have it turned away on approach. His finger rested over the button, on the trigger, ready to pull.
It would buy him the time he needed.
The gap between him and his prey was broad, with too many steps and no cover.
Speed and stealth were imperative.
Inhale.
…
Exhale.
The Hunter stepped off the stairs; the carpet beneath his shoes only served to aid in quieting his steps. He walked out of the cover of the stairway, his eyes on his prey; their head was turned away, their finger near the trigger.
The Hunter was hunched forward; body bent as he stalked forward, his steps measured and cautious.
Steps…
He was mere steps away from killing.
His prey, the White Fang guard, turned head swivelling slowly.
Another step.
The guard would see him at any moment.
The Hunter raised his left hand, and his finger bounced on the button.
A bright flash, brighter than any other light source in the dark, silent hallway, flared to life in his palm. It was jarring and without warning to the guard, their face scrunching, a grimace overcoming their features as they cringed.
A moment, that was all it was, a flinch.
The Hunter pounced.
His right arm swung.
The axe bit deep into the side of the guard's neck, muscle and cartilage splitting as the Hunter drove his weapon deeper.
The guard didn’t have Aura.
Blood and air bubbled from the cleft chasm in their neck, the right side of their throat split, the axe head resting in their meat. The guard's flinch had spared his life, if only for the moment.
The Guard spasmed, pain racking his body, his scream lost in a torrent of bubbling blood and viscous gags as they bucked. They tried to level their weapon, but the Hunter crashed his side into their shorter form, pinning them to the wall.
The Hunter pulled back his grip, adjusting on the axe, his right arm cocked back, his elbow primed. The axe head was jerked free of the guard's neck, blood spraying free, coating the Hunter's face, his hunched posture straightening.
He twisted.
The axe head sunk deep, the Hunter’s body pivoting from his hips, and his forearm ramming the bloodied axe back into the guard's throat.
The Hunter listened as bone cracked.
The guard stilled.
Lifeless.
Their blood painted the Hunter's front, his right hand and sleeve laden with the lifeblood of the now dead guard.
The Hunter stepped back, and the Guard collapsed, but the Hunter was there to slow their descent, laying them in a growing stretch of red. A swift tug freed his axe and sent a fresh wave of red spilling from a nearly severed neck.
The Hunter pocketed his Scroll.
He slicked his hair back as he rose to stand, his eyes running over the dead man for anything of note.
The whole building shook.
The Hunter threw an arm out to grasp the wall as the shudders ripped through the surrounding structure alongside the thunderous noise of an explosion. He could hear screams from back the way he came and from within the event room adjacent to him.
He quickly thought about going to check on his sisters after such a thing, his fears for the building’s continued structural integrity mounting.
But then the dead Faunus’s radio buzzed to life.
A voice crackled through the speaker, but the Hunter was already moving, his feet carrying him around the bend and down the hall. His steps weren’t nearly as quiet now, but he could hear voices up ahead, and he decided that speed was now superior to stealth.
He bounded down the hall, listening when a voice spoke, “-check-in, over.”
Jaune used the noise to estimate where his quarry was, and when he bound around the corner, the bloody fire axe over his shoulder, he was met with fear.
There were two Faunus, as he knew by the scents. One was positioned further back, closer to the stairs that lead back to the public floors, and their gun was held to their chest, ready to be shouldered. The other had been walking towards the corner the Hunter just appeared from with his SMG hanging from its strap by his hip and his radio in hand.
The Hunter didn’t even hesitate.
He swung with both arms, the axe descending with meteoric speed and colliding equally so. There was nearly no resistance as the axe sent the guard's head spinning off, a bloody spray trailing in its wake.
The body thudded to its knees like a puppet with its strings cut, folding backwards as the radio clattered out of its hands.
The Hunter was already moving.
And so was the last of the guards.
This time, the Hunter did not have surprise on his side; this time, his prey was alert, and their firearm was already pointing towards him.
The Hunter grappled the headless corpse, hauling it in front of his body as he barrelled forward, a bloody snarl on his face.
A spray of bullets slammed into his impromptu barrier, but the armour still adorned on the bloody corpse held and granted the Hunter the protection needed to close the gap.
The bullets stopped, and the last of the guards rolled away as the Hunter slammed the body into the wall, cracking the plaster and sending a fresh splatter of red across his face.
The guard drew their gun up.
The Hunter slammed the body atop the floored guard.
The corpse cashed into the last White Fang blocking his sisters from escaping; the barrel of their weapon forced away. They scrambled, trying to move, but the Hunter wasn’t having it.
He stomped atop the headless corpse, pinning the guard beneath.
But they fought, hand unsheathing the knife at the hip of their deceased comrade and swiping at the Hunter’s legs. He stepped off the corpse, and a spray of bullets ripped through the air as the guard squeezed the trigger and jerked their gun around in a wild spray.
The Hunter darted away from the swinging hail of bullets, his axe swinging.
The sound of the gun barrel being bashed aside was followed by the sound of metal sheering and the weapon backfiring.
The Hunter swung again, and the guard, bereft of options, lifted their arms to cover their face, subjecting their limbs to the bite of the axe.
His weapon tore through their elbow and maimed one of their arms, a blood-curdling scream ripping out of their throat.
The Hunter slammed his foot down on their chest, silencing their screams as he held aloft his axe.
He swung.
The White Fang’s mask was split in two…
As was their skull.
Inhale.
…
Exhale.
Jaune removed his foot from the cracked chest of the corpse and stepped back, leaving the axe wedged in the bottom of the throat of its last victim, their head cracked in two and the contents of their skull pooling around it.
They were split in twain from the tip of their head to the top of their clavicle.
He ignored the bloody sight and turned his attention back the way he came. He needed to check on the girls and get them out of there. He sprinted back, moving as fast as his long legs could carry him.
As soon as he reached the stairway, he called out, conscious only of being loud enough for his sisters to hear. “Girls, time to go,” he called up the stairs.
Jade peered around the corner first, eyes cautious.
Smart.
Thinking quickly, Jaune pulled out and turned on his Scroll’s screen, illuminating himself.
“Jaune!”
“Shh,” he quickly reprimanded his sister. “We need to move,” he instructed, tilting his head to hear the sounds of gunfire above.
Gone was the near roar of gunfire; both single shots and automatic fire bursts were replaced with a few sparing shots.
They were running out of time.
“All right,” Jade nodded; Jaune killed his Scroll, tucking it back into his pants.
Both girls quickly descended the stairs now that he was present; Jade and Sky looked ready to speak, but Jaune shushed them.
“Come here,” Jaune instructed, holding out his arms, uncaring of the thick coating of blood on both.
The girls seemed hesitant, but Jaune didn’t have time for such and quickly embraced them. They gasped as he lifted both upwards, neither weighing much to him, and his greater height allowed him to avoid any awkwardness when moving.
“Both of you keep your eyes shut,” Jaune ordered, turning to make his way back the way he had come once more.
“But-“
“Do it,” Jaune snapped, an edge to his tone that he had never used with either girl.
“Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah.”
With both girl's affirmatives, Jaune nodded.
“Good, keep them closed… trust me,” Jaune intoned, marching down the hall.
“It smells,” Sky complained.
“Hold your nose,” Jaune replied simply, knowing that she was smelling the freshly slaughtered body of the first guard he had slain.
Traumatic deaths often left behind the foulest stench.
He did not linger, moving quickly to the stairs and going halfway down the first flight before he told the girls they could open their eyes.
“Is it safe?” Sky whispered.
“Not yet,” Jaune replied warningly, still moving down the stairs, “There are more of them on the upper floors; we need to get out of the building.”
“Wait!” Jade suddenly exclaimed, shoving against Jaune, who carefully released his hold on her so as not to drop her.
“What?”
“The others?”
“I told you they are on the upper flo-“
“No, Jaune, the ones in the event room, the ones taken hostage,” Jade panicked.
“Oh no,” Sky gasped.
“You need to go save them,” Jade demanded, with Sky nodding in agreement.
“No, we need to leave. It's not safe,” Jaune shook his head, holding out a hand for Jade.
“That’s why you need to go help them!” Jade argued.
“Jade-“
“Jaune there is no time!” Jade yelled at her brother.
Jaune bit back a growl.
“Fine!” Jaune exclaimed, placing Sky down carefully on the steps, “Both of you keep going; as quick as you can, I will catch up.”
Jade smiled, “Thank-“
“Go!” Jaune ordered, already turning to race back up the stairs as soon as his sisters began to race downwards.
As he marched back towards danger, Jaune hissed under his breath, “Need to learn how to say no, dammit. Kos preserve me…”
Jaune grabbed his axe as he marched past the brutalised corpse, walking straight up to the event room doors he had entered earlier that night.
Well, before everything went to shit.
He tried the handle and was unsurprised to find that it was locked.
Surrounded by the scent of blood, anxious by the floor's silence above, and agitated due to being separated from his sisters, Jaune was in no mood for locked doors.
He took one step back and brought his leg up.
He kicked forward, the doors slamming thunderously in an explosion of wood shrapnel as the lock sundered apart.
Screams and fear greeted him, but Jaune ignored them, standing in the door frame and looking down at the panicked mass of people.
He spoke with barely restrained fury, “The guards are dead; the rest are likely on their way back down; you need to flee; take the stairs.”
His piece said Jaune turned his back on them and marched away, satisfied he had done as his sister requested.
Then his mood soured as he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed by his sister's request.
He bolted for the stairs, axe gripped firmly in hand, leaving behind the former hostages as he leapt down the stairs like a man possessed. He caught up with his sisters far too quickly, the two of them not having covered nearly enough ground to make him comfortable.
He landed in front of them with a thud, Sky shrieking and Jade cursing at the top of her lungs, “Fucking shit!”
Jaune rose to his full height, “You are going too slow,” he admonished, quickly reaching for Jade, who instinctively grabbed his hand.
“Did you help the-“
Jaune quickly scooped her onto his back with practised ease, the motion being basically second nature given how often his sisters rode around on his back. “Yes, they are free of the room and likely hurrying down the stairs as we speak.”
“Good, thank you, Jaune,” Jade breathed quickly, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tight.
Jaune nodded, picking up Sky, the girl shaking a little as he held her to his chest.
“You’re okay,” Jaune breathed, kissing the top of her head, settling her tremors for the moment. Her hands quickly clutched at his hoodie, holding tight just as Jade was doing, as both were well aware of how fast Jaune could move with passengers on board.
Jaune took off, his legs practically bouncing down the flights of steps, skipping numerous stairs as he went. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, blood trailing behind him, the howls of Yharnam dulling in his mind as he raced away from the carnage he had wrought.
YVYVYVYVY
They were on the last floor.
It was a flashy room with glass walls all around to allow guests to see the city vista without obstructions. The floor was furnished with lavish chairs, pool tables, an extensive bar and prominent standing speakers in the room's corners.
At least it had been flashy once.
Now tables were flipped over, and a combination of Atlesian knights and paid guards were making a desperate last stand. Bullets seared into the walls around Adam as he waited for a break in the onslaught.
He, Gekko and the rest of the Chimera were trapped in the stairwell as the guards above were far better armed than those below. A suppressive curtain of bullets halted them in their tracks and served to ignite Adam’s fury in such a way that he began contemplating charging to room.
It would be risky, but if he could close the gap quickly enough, he could efficiently dispatch the guards, and with the aid of Gekko, they both could likely make it without suffering too much strain to their Aura.
But they couldn’t afford to.
All it would take is one professional Huntsman showing up, and everything could go to hell; he and Gekko needed to try and hold onto their Aura reserves as much as possible. His Chimera were good, but at the end of the day, they did not have their Aura awakened.
If they all had their Aura, Adam would likely never be able to travel through wilds or Remnant, as their concentrated Aura presence would bring down every Grimm on top of them.
Not to mention, sneaking into cities and larger settlements would become an absolute nightmare.
No, he was pinned; he needed to play this smart despite his goal being so close it was enraging. He needed to wait for something, a break in their fire or something to disrupt them, all while having faith in the plan.
He needed to trust the Bastion Cell to do their part.
His patience was rewarded.
With an explosion.
The building shook as the thunderous noise ripped through the air, the windows around the room shuddering, some cracking and others shattering altogether. Fire and flaming debris were visible, and Adam felt triumph in his chest.
They had done it.
It would have been impossible for them to sneak explosives into a building that was going to be hosting a Schnee. There was too much security and too many ways for it to go wrong; such was the reason they didn’t sneak in more men for the assault.
Adam was under no illusion that they were on the clock, and the powers that be had likely already dispatched police, if not worse, to investigate the happenings he had caused.
So they hadn’t bothered trying.
Instead, Adam had trusted Rajah with a selection of heavy ordnance to hand out to only the most trusted of his people. Then, those equipped Faunus were strategically placed about the city, intermingled with the lookouts.
They had one job.
To ground any airship that attempted to aid the Schnee.
He had carried doubts… Rajah had a head on his shoulders, but Adam still wasn’t sure as to the reliability of the rest of his Cell. But as the building ceased shaking, Adam realised his doubts were proven wrong.
The airship above was obliterated, and there was a chance that Schnee had just gone with it.
But Adam needed to be sure.
“Gekko now!”
Adam and his lieutenant roared out from around the cover, Chimera quick on their heels, popping around the stairwell doors to lay down covering fire. The guards knocked out of their cover never stood a chance and were ripped apart by bullets as Adam and Gekko dispatched the more resilient mechs.
It was a slaughter.
Ordinary men could never hope to match with Aura-enhanced fighters, and the few that tried were demolished in brutal fashion. One such fool tried to block Gekko’s swings with his firearm, only for the gun to shatter in his hands as he was sent flying.
His screams grew distant as he smashed through a massive cracked window and plummeted to the ground below.
Adam’s kills were not nearly as showy as he moved with haste, his ignited Wilt severing through cover, armour and weapons in equal measure. The few bullets that did come his way were swiped out of the air, as Adam gave no quarter.
The final guard blocking their way died trying to escape them, crawling up the stairs, his leg missing.
Adam put him down with a single shot to the back of his head as he marched up to the roof and towards his prize.
“Chimera, secure this floor; be prepared for evacuation,” Adam ordered, receiving affirmatives as his loyal Faunus spread about the room in secure points, ready to hold the line.
“Come, Gekko, it's time for us to retrieve our prize.”
Gekko growled, his voice laced with unrestrained eagerness, “Finally.”
Marching up the stairs, the first thing that greeted Gekko was the heavy smell of fire and smoke; the aroma of burning metal lingered in the air. The door to their prize was blocked, but Gekko made short work of the obstruction, carving through the door with his chainsaw.
It turned out to be a piece of the airship.
As soon as their way was clear, bullets began to fly towards them, though not nearly as many as they had suffered on the floor below. Adam and Gekko were not delayed in the slightest; the paltry resistance was nothing more than desperate guards and a single half-broke Atlesian Knight.
They were silenced in mere moments.
Then, a figure dashed across the roof.
Upon seeing the fleeing person, Adam whipped around, their recognisable snow-white hair clearly visible in the flaming wreckage.
Blush was up in a heartbeat.
The sound of it firing had never sounded more beautiful.
The bullet ripped through the air and slammed into the Schnee’s side, piercing right through him in a spray of red.
But the Schnee didn’t drop.
Adam watched as his prey reeled his arm back and, with a cry equal parts pain and exertion, hurled something away with all his might.
Then they collapsed, stumbling to the ground, their hands going to the hole from where his bullet had penetrated their side. The Schnee rolled, kicking weakly with his legs as he pushed himself away, only to be blocked by another section of the burning airship.
Adam walked forward, an eery calm overcoming his body as his prey was visible beneath the light of the burning vehicle that had nearly been his salvation.
Adam took it all in.
The man was clearly a Schnee; his snow-white hair wouldn’t allow him to be anything else. It was probably styled immaculately usually, but today, the man's hair was a loose mess and stood clung to his forehead. His eyes were a deep ocean blue and bloodshot; looking forward shakily, Adam wondered which was worse: his pain or his fear.
His face was not untouched by time, the man having both laugh lines and crow's feet, his skin beginning to show hints of his age. His skin was darker than what Adam expected of a Schnee, but it wasn't that unusual, considering the rest of them were holed up in their floating fortress.
His face was covered with a 5’oclock shadow, and the unshaved look only added to his ruffled appearance, though it was styled to appear purposefully messy. His attire was also looser than Adam would have expected of a big-shot SDC head.
His white dress shirt was untucked, his tie was loose about his collar, his black dress pants were fitted, and his white belt stood out in stark contrast. But that was it.
No vest, jacket, blazer… the man was dressed well, but there was none of the ostentatious displays of wealth that Adam expected of a Schnee.
But this was definitely a Schnee.
Bastard looked too much like Jacques Schnee to be anyone else.
Adam stood before the Schnee, his eyes watching the man's white dress shirt slowly get painted red as more of the Schnee’s blood stained the area around his hip.
Adam crouched, a smile coming to his face.
“Hello, Schnee.”
YVYVYVYVY
Negan knew he should have just stayed at the hotel.
To be fair, it wasn’t viewing the show live that he minded; it was fun to watch all those young, ambitious talents strut their stuff. It brought back fond memories of when Weiss would tour, and he could easily meet up with her. Sure, it might have attracted the paparazzi like no one's business, but there were benefits to them both flying in music circles.
Gods, he wanted to perform with her again.
He loved her voice.
The after-party was where his day went downhill; just as he expected, he was corralled off into a separate room with all the execs and money movers. Gods forbid he want to hang out with the contestants no that would be madness.
It wasn’t like he was a retired fucking singer or anything.
The most frustrating thing was that they all wanted to talk about his brother.
Now, Negan was not so self-centred as to be annoyed that it wasn’t him they wanted to talk about, but out of all of his family members, they had to talk about Jacques.
Hell, he would rather talk about his sister-in-law; even Willow’s drunken escapades were a better topic than Jacques's.
But no such was the way with this sort, all of them wealthy and all of them wanting to be wealthier.
The quality of the conversations was fucking mind-numbing, but Negan persevered; it wouldn’t do for him to earn Jacques’s ire right now. He had to play the role of a good distant brother, at least until Weiss was safely in Vale and enrolled in Beacon. Then that moustachioed fuck was free game.
Jacques could try all he wanted; once Weiss was in Beacon, that man could politely go fuck himself; Weiss would be almost wholly free of his influence. And all it took was her fleeing to another nation and enrolling in a prodigious academy meant to train bloody superheroes.
Gods, Negan hated Jacques sometimes; the man saw the world as only things that could benefit him. Even his children weren’t spared his ambitions, and in fact, next to his wife suffered it the worst.
Negan knew he probably should have done more… but he would be there for Weiss.
He could do that much.
That’s the real reason he was rubbing shoulders with the rich and the powerful, playing the role of the affectionate brother. He would keep Jacques's eyes averted, and the man, none the wiser, let the ass think he was still floating from place to place harmlessly.
Negan would be nothing more than a passing comment of ‘Oh, I saw your brother at a blank’, which was fine by him.
After all, any good performer could act at least a little bit.
But amidst his performance, everything went to hell in a handbasket.
His guards had grabbed him with a swift, “Negan, we need to move,” pulling him towards the stairs.
Negan, even back in his performing days, had always made a note to obey his security, even back before the White Fang grew violent, and the worst he had to endure were death threats and over-eager fans. Now retired, the matter had become even more crucial, so when his long-time security guard Lo grabbed him and moved for the stairs, Negan went with zero fuss.
Then he heard the gunshots.
“Airship is inbound; our security detail is already moving to intercept with others,” Lo explained, one hand to her ear and the other around his shoulders.
“The others?” Negan asked, though he knew the answer.
“Not my concern, Negan,” Lo answered succinctly.
Lo had been around since his second year of stardom and had pulled Negan out of everything from an attempted kidnapping to a bar fight that spilled out onto the streets and devolved into a riot. Vacuo, to this day, still talked about that night, though Negan felt his specific role in the evening's turn was severely overplayed.
She had been a constant day in and day out, and Negan had long since learned that she was the realist he needed to be safe.
She had killed for him; she had taken bullets for him.
So his response to the callousness had been an accepting nod, trusting this woman to do as she always had and keep him safe.
When they got to the roof, he watched as a squad of Atlesian Knights marched past to take up positions in the room below. With all the big wigs, a fair amount of security was present, both from private details and supplied by the event manager.
Which was why when he heard the gunfire get closer his stomach dropped.
Lo had pulled him around, “As soon as the Airship gets here, get on, understood.”
Negan nodded, not even trying to hide how scared he was.
The wait had left him feeling ill as he heard the fighting below grow progressively louder, screams muffled by the distance ringing in his ears.
The roar of the airship did little to relieve his nerves.
When the aircraft arrived it did not even fully make contact with the landing pad, merely hovering above the roof within stepping distance. Negan found himself being shoved towards the front, the symbol for Atlas on the side of the Bullhead, letting him know it was here for him.
He heard cries and pleadings as others were held back as he was loaded onto the airship. The robotic knights that had been a ‘gift’ from the Atlesian government created a metal barrier keeping others from boarding his craft. Negan knew the machines were little more than yet another power move by his brother.
But for once, Negan found he was grateful for such a blatant financial flex.
Once he was on board, a handful of others followed on, though Negan realised that they were just more of his security. He had only been seated for a moment when Lo drew her gun and began threatening the others who were trying to board. Lo’s ruthless side was on full display as she fired a few shots about their feet, stopping their attempts to claw over the knights.
Lo whipped around to the pilots, her obsidian hair whipping around in the heavy winds, “Get us out of here! Now!”
Negan breathed… he had made it; they were leaving.
“… Fuck! Negan!”
Lo’s screams had washed over him, his mind not even having time to process what he was hearing before he was being thrown from the airship.
He landed on the air pad rolling, even felt a sharp screaming pain in his fingers as he cried out, staring up, confused and disorientated.
Then, the airship exploded.
The force of the blast slammed into him and rocked his frame, pushing him into the cement.
It rained down around him, fire and metal crushing the helipad and the roar of the flames drowning the world. He was surrounded by heat and death; he heard screams of those caught by the debris.
He was alive.
He cursed, returning to his legs, stumbling when his broken fingers reminded him they were there. The cement banister at the end of the helipad had saved him, shielding him from the flaming shrapnel.
“Lo…” Negan breathed, looking around; there was no sight of the woman. The security guards and other VIPs were scattered.
There was screaming beneath him.
The danger was closing in.
‘Weiss.’
Negan fumbled in his pants, pulling out his Scroll; panic and fear made using a Scroll with one hand an even more significant challenge, but he persevered.
He turned the camera on, ignoring how his finger had left a blood smear on the device.
“… Weiss,” he got out between heavy panting breaths, his heart constricting in his chest. “I don’t know how much time I have, they’re coming, I don’t know where Lo is… I need you to know I love you, darling.”
Negan blinked away his tears; he didn’t have time to break down; it was quiet down below.
“Listen, Snowflake, I wanted to be there for you, to watch you become a badass Huntress away from your cunt of a father, but… but I don’t think I will be able to,” Negan whimpered, barely holding it together.
He heard the roof doors slam open; there was gunfire and more screaming.
“Weiss… I never had a daughter, but if I did, I would want her to be like you; I love you, princess… get away from Jacques, run to Vale and become a woman you can be proud of… I know you can do it, Weiss, you’re the best of us… I love you, Weiss, always.”
It was silent now.
He ended the recording with fingers that refused to stop shaking, but he managed to hit the send button.
No signal.
Negan muffled a scream, kicking his legs.
Negan looked around and noticed the nearby buildings with their lights off.
He tried to remember everything Lo had taught him to be aware of.
“Jammers…” Negan breathed.
He knew what he had to do.
Negan got to his feet with strength spawned by fear and desperation. His breaths were shaky, and his heart trembled as it pounded. But Negan stood all the same, and with a last shaky breath, he sprinted.
He ran faster than he had in years, his legs thudding noisily as he bolted across the landing pad.
*BANG*
It hurt.
He felt the bullet rip through his hip; it was awful; his back and gut screamed at him, and he wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry. The air in his chest left in a gritted hiss as he clenched his jaw.
He stumbled, his chest ached, and his gut hurt worse.
With a half sob, half scream, he drew his arm back.
And threw.
He watched as his Scroll spun through the air, disappearing over the side of the building, his prayers going with it. A final hope that maybe, just maybe, he could say goodbye to Weiss.
Then he collapsed.
Now, he could hurt.
Now he could feel.
‘Fuck I wish Lo was here.’
He heard the steps approach, looked up and saw the figures close in on him.
He tried to escape, his feet scraping on the ground as he used all his strength to escape… but he only succeeded in rolling over, his back landing again on warm metal with a thud.
There were two of them.
Both large, both armed…
Both masked.
White Fang.
The one dressed in black and red crouched down; Negan eyed the sword in his hands, concerned that it took so long for his vision to focus on the weapon.
He dragged his eyes back to their face, half-masked as it was.
He saw the man's red and brown hair, the horns hidden within his windswept style.
Then they grinned, and Negan felt cold.
There was no kindness in such a smile.
“Hello, Schnee.”
Negan swallowed, realising then and there the position was in.
So he did what he did best.
Shifting as little as possible and enduring the tearing ache that ripped through him and made his head spin, Negan sat just a little straighter.
He wore his best smile, knowing well that the effect was likely lost given his current appearance.
Then, swallowing down another shaky breath, he began what was likely the last show he would ever perform.
With confidence he didn’t feel, he replied, “Hello… what can I do for you…”
The way the one in red frowned made Negan forget all the hurt and pain for just the briefest of moments.
Because if he was going to die…
He sure as fuck was going to make sure some hopped-up extremist shit heel didn’t enjoy it.
Comments
Erik Johanson
The Whitefang here comes across as both Fanatic and fanatic and uninformed. Nasty creatures all around.
StormDrake
Praise be they have returned!! Great to have you back was getting worried, love your work.
Laplase
Glad to see your back I was getting worried there for a while, this is a great story so keep it up.
A Bad Rose
Glad to see you're back. I don't feel confident about Negan, sad because it was nice to see an elder Schnee that wasn't also a bastard. Gonna binge the next two chapters, but overall, well done! Saw your post on Discord just recently about your circumstances, I'm heartened to know of your efforts to aid others. May you be blessed this year, genuinely.
AzedyTheYeti
I’m so glad you’re back. This is genuinely my favorite story right now!
