Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A Whole New World

I lit a cigarette, breathing in deep, and let loose a cloud of smoke into the desert evening. The campfire flickered in front of me, smoke drifting up in a narrow trail. Night was going to fall fast, out here in the desert, and I wanted to have dinner cooked and the fire smothered before it was fully dark. Keeping the odd gecko or coyote away wasn't worth advertising my position to every Viper, Jackal and Powder Ganger for miles around- that was an easy way to get myself stabbed and robbed. Not to mention the risk of the Mojave express sending someone after me for losing that package- even now sat in that smug asshole's pocket in Vegas, likely as not, but without the caps to get through the front gate I was stuck working these penny-ante jobs for loose change.

I'd butchered a Bighorner out in the dunes- too old to stick with the herd, it was a mercy to finish things for it, and the steaks I'd cut were even now sizzling merrily over the fire. Hide and the rest of the meat would sell well in Freeside- probably make me a couple of dozen caps, all told. Plus a hundred for checking in on this radio broadcast, subtract the price of ammo and repairs, a decent meal back in town… It was better than breaking even, barely. I couldn't help but chuckle, breaking the silence. It was ironic- here I was, a bar of gold from the legendary Sierra Madre tucked away in my pack, struggling for a handful of caps here and there because I couldn't find anyone willing to buy the damned thing. Richest man in the Mojave, struggling to budget for a bloatfly slider.

My target- the source of this strange radio signal- sat inert nearby. I'd seen pictures, in old pre-war books, these machines flying way up high, where the air thins to nothing and the sky turns black above you- this one had come crashing down to earth, recently enough that the tin cans from the Brotherhood hadn't grabbed it, or any of the other prospectors and scavengers who'd tear the thing apart for whatever scrap they could sell down at Old Lady Gibson's. Not that I was much better, dragging that hunk of junk back to Mick and Ralph's for whatever they had planned- some scheme to use it to run ads on the radio, from what I'd overheard. Trying to bring in regional customers, NCR soldiers and Crimson Caravan flunkies. Not my concern if they could pull it off, or if the plan would even work; I just had to get the thing back to Freeside. Which was looking like a royal pain the arse, to be sure; this old-world satellite was a chunky beast, too big to lift and covered in arms and solar panels to make it impossible to roll. A problem for the morning- at worst, I could just dig into it's electronic guts and try to isolate whatever signal emitter was still running. The machine seemed dormant, at least- a problem for the next morning.

Later that night, as the Big MT Satellite's clock ticked over to the strike of midnight, the machine burst into vibrant life; the power collected throughout the hot Mojave day flowing from capacitors into an array of holographic projectors, scanners, and the finest mad science that the combined minds of the Think Tank could fit into their pet project. A device designed to collect new test subjects once their stocks began to run dry, using the radio broadcast as a carrier wave to draw their victims into position. It was a tired routine, the same song and dance repeated by dozens of drones across the wasteland; no different, except for hairline fractures in the casing of the transportalponder, leaking radiation muddying the carrier waves just a touch beyond safety tolerances. What should have been a standard pickup became something far stranger. Not that the Courier was to know such things; he was sleeping fitfully when the Satellite began to whirr to life, and barely had time to draw his gun before a blue flash left the Mojave Drive-in quiet once more. It's job done, the satellite sank back to a fitful quiescence.

I looked around wildly, blinking the blue light from my eyes. Rookie mistake, kid, I could practically hear Raul's drawled admonition. You never let your guard down around pre-war tech, not if you don't know exactly what it's for. At least I was whole- all my limbs in their right place, my gun safely shouldered, my pack clutched tightly. That was a start; next, to figure out where I was, because this sure as hell wasn't the Mojave drive-through. Still the desert, at least, might not have been moved too far- just from a Mojave night to a desert morning, hopefully only a few hours lost. I shouldered my pack, tried to get oriented; my pip-boy was oddly unhelpful, the map refusing to resolve into focus even after hitting the screen a few time, it's compass simply showing a sad vault boy shaking his head. Always carry a backup- my spare compass still span true, a basic scrap of magnetized metal spinning on it's spindle, reliable as ever. Now I knew where north was- from there, I could find where I was, and once I knew that I could get where I was going. Simple. I'd done it before.

If you want to see further, you get up high. It's a basic instinct, and it holds true- I shouldered my load, set forth. The heat was bad, of course- what do you expect from a desert? The sand slid underfoot, making my progress a constant struggle as I zig-zagged uphill. The land fought against me, as it always does. But something felt wrong- even out here in the desert, there's life if you know where to look, but not like this. Little patches of desert grass dotted the landscape, mottled brown and green, more than I'd seen in the wasteland- nothing major, just a minor discomfort. Then I reached the top of the sand drift, and saw something impossible.

It wasn't that there was an oasis- of course it wasn't. It wasn't even the trees and bushes around it- where there's water there's life, and as bizarrely verdant as these were it wasn't beyond the pale. No, it was that damned goat. I'd seen goats before, in the hazy times before Benny's nine millimetre shot of amnesia, I was sure of that, but not like this. White fur, unmarred, not a single bald spot or cluster of boils. One head, two horns, four legs- the thing wasn't even nursing any major injuries! I don't know how long I stopped, boggling at it as it dipped it's head to drink- can't have been more than a few seconds, but it felt like an age.

The goat, for it's part, didn't seem fussed at all as I staggered and slid down the slope, simply dipping it's head to drink. Made sense, a beast that fine had to belong to someone- a prize-winner, or a brahmin baron's favoured pet, perhaps even some kind of NCR experiment in raising livestock away from radiation. It'd be used to people, and certainly there would be someone out there looking for it, someone willing to pay well. Strip security didn't much care for NCR dollars, but I could change them for caps at the Wrangler, once I got back into town. A little extra cash to sweeten the pot would help set things right with Mick and Ralph, besides; my reputation would be dinged up, but no way in hell I was gonna mess around with that satellite if it had some kind of pre-war weapon or device firing off at random. They could find some other patsy to take that bullet, if it mattered to them so much.

I knelt next to the goat, slurping up water. It was clean, save for a hint of gritty sand- tasted good, so I filled my canteen and my belly both. Then, for a time, I just sat. The goat chewed on a patch of oasis grass, tearing it up by the roots in great chunks, the rhythmic grinding of it's teeth lulling me into a state of meditative relaxation. Not asleep- I wasn't that dumb- but relaxed. That's why the shouting was so unwelcome, the gunshots too.

Now, it's probably foolhardy to run towards sounds of violence at the best of times, but you have to understand that, out of all my skills, violence has tended to be more the most lucrative. It's not a safe job, but that just comes down to managing risk, same as any other job. In this case, I was out in the desert, beginning to suspect I was further from home than I thought, a few day's food in my pack and a ticking clock before the Mojave express decided I wasn't doing enough to recover the package and sent a cleaner out to resolve the situation. Gunshots means people, people with access to guns and ammunition and the places where one could find such things. People in trouble, which meant people I could barter with.

It could've been raiders, of course. I was ready for that too- some of them could be bargained with, like the better class of powder ganger, and if they were more like the Fiends I'd rather get the drop on them than wait until they found me. Shooting people never really sat right with me, but so it goes- it just comes down to managing risk.

Luckily, this particular incident wasn't so morally fraught; I caught sight of them from a fair distance, as soon as I'd climbed the dunes which sheltered my little oasis. A desert caravan, traders of some sort, trying to drive off some kind of mutant- a big two-headed snake, bigger than anything I'd seen before, bloated to impossible size. It made some kind of sense, all the greenery and healthy animals would allow for bigger predators- all that food. Never seen a snake that big though- the two heads were a comforting familiarity.

The poor bastards fighting it weren't having a good time of it- using spears and rifles to try and drive it off, I saw the thing twitch and writhe into a brutal lash which sent one spearman flying off his feet- he wouldn't get back up from that, I knew the bone-crushing, organ-pulping forces involved in throwing someone like that. I loaded my shotgun- slugs, buckshot wouldn't do squat to it's thick hide and scales- and hurried into the fray.

It's a mark of professionalism, how you react to the appearance of unexpected aid. The moment of distraction can kill you if you let it, and that makes for a poor first impression- I called out to them on the approach, "Assist coming on your nine o'clock!", and took a shot at the creature, racking the slide as I planted a cluster of lead blooms around one of it's eyes, slamfiring until my ears rang and my gun clicked empty, still moving as I fumbled briefly for more shells.

These caravaneers were tough, and knew their way around a brawl- my shouted warning was enough that they didn't miss a beat, carrying on their lethal dance without any concern for the extra pair of feet on the dancefloor. The snake reared, hissing it's pique, and whirled towards me, but before it could strike they were there, a spear punching into it's soft underbelly, tearing open a ragged gash. With a sharp coil it brought it's uninjured head to bear, snapping with fangs the length of my forearm, but no sooner had it's mouth opened than it choked on a volley of large-calibre bullets, the caravaneer's rifles popping in a regimented salvo, giving the spearmen time to adjust, scattering out of the way as it fell back, before whirling once more. By then I'd reloaded, more slugs ready to fly, and I took a breath, eyes scanning for any weak spots. The eye I'd shot out earlier was leaking some strange black ichor, that head weaving back and forth as it tried to sweep the battlefield despite it's blind spot. Seemed to slow it down a little, at least- I jogged around in a wide circle, keeping to the outskirts of this little skirmish, lining up a shot on it's remaining eye, and let fly, metal pulping the eye in it's socket with another outraged shriek of pain from the snake.

I didn't see the other head swinging around, but I sure as hell felt it crashing into my side.

I didn't need to look down to see the injury, a broken rib punching through the flesh of my chest.

It didn't hurt as much as you'd think- I was marinaded in enough adrenaline to keep me running though near enough anything, I think- but I jabbed a syringe of med-x into my side anyway, the sharp prick of a needle giving way to a cold numbness flowing through the tissue. All I could do then was scramble back away from it, trying to clear some space before the snake could strike again; every movement sent bones grinding together, but without the pain of it I could power through it. More damage, but that was secondary to surviving the next minute.

I needn't have worried- another clattering salvo of rifle fire distracted it a moment, before the blast of a rocket drove it's head down to the side, into reach of the spears, and they fell upon it in a bloody frenzy. By the time I'd managed to sit up, the snake must have been stabbed half a hundred times, and before I could recover my shotgun it was dead, weakly thrashing in it's final throes.

"Hoi kid, are you alright? Nasty hit you took," one of the strangers approached me, big grin on her face. "What were you doing out here alone anyway, you a Hunstman's student or something?"

I grunted, breath a little short as I unclasped my duster and tore the leather armour underneath free, so that I could get a proper look at my injury. The stranger blanched, at odds with her professionalism earlier, called for a medic even as I felt around for a bag of healing powder. It's tricky stuff, burns like the wrong end of a plasma rifle, but there's not much better for keeping wounds clean and making sure they heal right. By the time the medic arrived, an older man with intense eyes and a shock of green hair, I was midway through binding the wound, rough linen bandages forcing the bone back to it's proper place.

"Stop that, what are you doing?" He spoke fast, batting my hands away before I could tie it off. I grunted in irritation as I lost the pressure on the wound, the bone flexing back out of place. "Your rib- you fool child, why did you get involved if your aura was so low!"

"Aura?" I asked, a little slow- the Med-X was kicking in hard, leaving my head damnably fuzzy, and he wasn't making any sense to me. "No.. it's my rib, doc." I gestured at it vaguely. "Just needs patching up, s'fine."

I must have drifted off there, since the next thing I knew I was being bumped around on the back of a cart. Someone was sat up next to me, and that gave me a start- it was the one who'd been hit by the snake as I first arrived, the one I knew wouldn't be surviving, sat there alive and well. I glanced around, panicked, half expecting to see some bony fellow with a robe and scythe, or a boatman demanding two caps to cover my fare- but there was nothing more than the arse end of a horse plodding along, and, tied to the side of the cart, the same old goat looking back at me with a weirdly knowing look in it's boggling eyes.

My movement didn't go unnoticed, the dead man sat next to me calling out. "The kid's awake, Professor!"

"Doctor!" came an irate correction, as the green-haired medic hove into view. The cart wasn't moving fast at all, but even so the speed his long legs ate up the distance was impressive. "Are you cognisant? Are you in any pain? We found syringes on your person- are you on any medication? Can you tell me precisely what you have taken?"

He spoke fast; it would have been easy to chalk it up to panic, if it weren't for the look on his face- he was intense, not afraid nor shaken. I pulled myself together, took inventory. "Uh… I think so, a little, Med-X and healing powder," I said, working back through his questions in my head. "Should be good to walk," I added, my professional pride pricked at being treated like luggage.

As I sat up, there was already a hand on my shoulder, pinning me down with no apparent effort. "Absolutely not!" The medic's tone was steel. "You have a broken rib, two others fractured, you are chronically malnourished, and judging by the bleeding in your gums you're facing an extreme vitamin deficiency!"

I was torn between a weird sense of shame, and a self-righteous indignation at the unasked for examination. The man sat on the cart next to me- not dead, despite all I'd seen- looked down at me with pitying eyes. Asshole.

"Just relax, kid. We're gonna get you back to Vacuo city, find your folks, okay?"

I stared back at him, trying to figure out his angle. I'd never heard of this 'Vacuo city', and I had a sinking feeling that their assumption I had folks there was the only thing keeping me alive. I glanced over to the goat; guess I was in the same boat for now, lost property to be returned for a few caps. Just needed to figure out how to get clear before they realised I wasn't worth anything to anyone.

Biding my time, I glanced around- my pack was still safely fastened, my shotgun was in arm's reach and the holdout pistol nestled safely at the small of my back. Must've put that back after examining me; no way they missed it after something that invasive. The cart kept rolling forward, rocking slightly as it passed over ruts in the road, and I found my eyes resting on the goat once again.

"You were muttering about the goat in your sleep," my companion on the cart explained. "Seemed important to you- it belongs to your family?"

I almost shook my head, before common sense took over. "Yeah, it belongs to my folks," I lied. "They'll be grateful that you brought it back, for sure."

That should help convince them to keep it on hand- if I could slip away with it, it'd sell for enough to buy passage out of this 'Vacuo city', maybe get back to California or the Mojave if there were caravans running out here- wherever here was. Couldn't be a major city if I'd never heard of it, but the NCR's caravan companies usually hit these smaller towns as waystations for resupply.

"So, what's your name?" I asked, hoping to strike up a rapport; if they thought I trusted them, they'd be more likely to let their guard down.

"Vance Whittle," the stranger replied, an easy air to him. "The Doc hired me for security, just to have another Huntsman on hand; how about you?"

"Courier," I replied shortly.

"Odd name- is that Atlesian?"

I quirked an eyebrow at that. Another strange place. "Sure, Atlesian. I came round here for work."

There was a brief lull in the conversation. "Work, eh? Your parents came to Vacuo for business?"

"They're not-" I bit off the sentence before I could admit that they weren't in the picture. "Yeah, they moved out here for business. Farming, that's why I needed to find the goat."

My companion let out a huff from between pursed lips. "They sent you out into the desert after a single goat?"

"Sure did."

He muttered something I didn't quite catch. "I'll have a word with them," he finally said aloud. "You've got some talent though, kid. I bet you could swing a scholarship out at Shade, you're about the right age for it too- what are you, 17, 18?"

"19," I grumbled, my pride nettled. I was a full adult by anyone's standards, there was no call for anyone to look down on me! Whittle gave me an odd look, sizing me up.

"Sure, 19… that's still not past the cut-off, you know? Gotta be better than helping with your folks' business like this."

*****​

A few hours later, after that conversation had died a death, as Courier Six napped fitfully in the rocking cart, Vance jogged to the head of their little desert convoy.

"I spoke with the kid, doc- he's an odd one for sure."

"Howso? Oddity in itself is no crime- it is through our uniqueness that we build our strength!"

"I don't think his folks are any good," Vance kept his cool with practised effort, all too aware of what negativity could dredge up from the sandy sea. "The kid's twitchy, guarded. And who sends a boy that age out into the desert alone??"

Doctor Oobleck frowned at that. "The boy didn't hesitate to run out and help when the Taijitsu attacked- perhaps he took it upon himself to go after the missing goat? It's possible he's merely over-eager- can you justify such a low opinion of people you've never met?"

Vance paused at that, thinking through his words. Oobleck was one of nature's teachers, asking the question more to make him explain his reasoning than out of any real disagreement. "The kid is well armed and he can handle a fight- that points to some huntsman training, but his aura was either exhausted, he doesn't have good control of it… or it's not awakened. Any of those options are bad, if he was sent out by himself, and I don't think he's the sort to go out on his own." Something struck Vance then. "He was also too calm about the hit he took- patching up that kind of wound himself, instead of trying to call for help. Surely for anyone, the instinct should be to get help when you're hit like that. Do you know what medication he used?"

Doctor Oobleck shook his head. "It's not familiar to me- that's a concern, certainly. A child shouldn't be carrying so many syringes on them- it's a worrying sign, especially since it's something rare- or ilicit- enough that I've not heard of it. It's a pity we couldn't search his effects…"

"That's another thing," Vance cut in. "Even unconscious, with a broken rib, the kid tensed right up when we went anywhere near that bag. Those aren't good… they're not the kind of instincts you develop in a safe family environment. You said he's malnourished, and he's clearly got some stunted growth, being that small as a 19 year old… I'm not sure he's got any family at all!"

Oobleck nodded approvingly. "I came to the same conclusion," he admitted, "but it's good that you came to it independently. It's unfortunate, but there are many orphans in Vacuo these days- the combination of Grimm and geopolitical factors following the great war has led to significant instability. It's unusual for such a person to have any resources, however- weapons, ammunition, whatever the contents of the bag he's so protective of are…"

"It must be important to him- he was completely unaware of you patching up his injuries, but somehow knew when I was looking at his pack." Vance frowned. "I wouldn't expect a Vacuo orphan to be so materialistic…"

Oobleck frowned at that. "It's a common reaction to certain types of trauma; not a moral failing for one to be judged upon."

That unexpected brevity was enough for Vance to back off; even years after being his student, he still instinctively expected Doctor Oobleck to assign him a hundred page essay on the impact of generational trauma on how a hunstman should comport themselves with civilians. "Understood," he said, placatingly. "So how do we go forwards? The kid says he has family to get back to- if that's not true, what do we do?"

"We show we can be trusted, and we get the boy into contact with Shade Academy," Oobleck decided. "It's four months until the new intake, but there are certain scholarship and housing opportunities for those without means." He chanced a smile. "Although we must consider the possibility that we are entirely wrong! It's entirely possible that we are merely borrowing trouble, and there will be a loving, worried family waiting for our wayward companion in Vacuo city. We shall have to remain open to the possibilities."

Chapter Text

It's a strange feeling, falling asleep in one place and waking up in another. Gets stranger the second time it's happened in as many days, although I should've expected it this time. Wouldn't be the first time I'd passed out on a moving cart, although at least this time I wasn't waking up to some junkie trying to crack open my pack for meds. That had been a rough morning, especially after they tried snorting the healing powder- Nothing for a hangover like someone screaming because they managed to pack their sinuses with the harshest antiseptic in the Mojave- followed by a nice desert trek because the caravan master didn't care for my excuses.

Considering that, waking up to a goat trying it's best to fit it's tongue up my nose wasn't so bad. Still sent me sprawling out onto the sand below, spluttering and snorting to try and get rid of the smell and taste. Bastards around me weren't any help either, laughing their asses off as I clambered to my feet. One of them- she'd been wielding a spear the day before, I remembered- offered me a hand, pulling me to my feet with no visible effort. Stronger than she looked, in that wiry way desert folks tended towards.

"Oi Vance, your little project is awake!" she called, ignoring how I bristled at the casual dismissal. Before I had a chance to give her a piece of my mind, though, Vance was there, jogging over.

"Hey kid, good to see you're up and about! How's your chest feelin'?"

I gingerly brushed a finger over the wound, feeling the expected dull ache. "Seems solid," I replied, carefully testing my range of movement. "It's set well- won't be able to get so much done for a while, though."

"Your aura should help it heal," the older man said, with a probing air, like he was fishing for information.

"Sure, my aura!" I tried for enthusiasm, keeping the doubt from my voice. I'd met folks who believed in that stuff, auras and crystal healing and ESP- and I'd met dozens more who were willing to sell it, regardless of their own beliefs. "I've heard I got a good aura- vary strong!"

That threw Vance off a little. "You have? That's… good?"

"Thank you!" I smiled brightly, before changing the subject before he could dig into an interrogation. "So, I could do with some food- is there anywhere to cook something up?"

"Ah, sure, you must be starving!" Vance flushed as he led me to the centre of the circled carts- now that I'd gotten my bearings, I could see how they'd lined things up to form a perimeter of sorts. Wooden carts wouldn't do so much about anyone with decent guns or a few sticks of dynamite, but it'd dissuade the smaller desert critters, geckos and the like. There was a fire smouldering, a big skillet and coffee pot carefully balanced over the heat, a cauldron of some kind of porridge bubbling nearby.

"How do you take your porridge," Vance asked, brandishing a ladle and tin bowl. "We got honey, some cinnamon and sugar if you want?"

I recognised two of the three, at least- no idea about cinnamon, but ant honey was pretty good if you could lay hands on it without getting swarmed, and crushed sugar bombs were a wasteland staple to sweeten up anything too unpalatable to eat without something to make the difference.

"I'm good, thanks," I said, taking the proffered bowl, spooning up a tentative taste- it was odd stuff, like there was something missing in the flavour, but it was good for sure. More flavour than the stuff I used to make from pre-war packs of instamash, at least. Another spoon down, I blinked, and found myself looking down at an empty bowl, spoon rattling against the bowl.

"Damn son, I can't say I ever saw anyone get through a bowl that quick- you should slow down, don't want to upset your stomach," Vance commented, clearly amused. Sure, laugh it up, dickhead- I bit down the irritation though, wouldn't do to seem ungrateful. Needed to keep things smooth until I could slip away; no way I was going to stick around when the bill came due for all of this largesse.

"Could I get another bowl?" I asked, polite as could be. "Please," I added at Vance's expectant pause, and he ladled another scoop of food into the bowl- this time, I ate slower, and realised what was missing. Out in the Sierra Madre, everything had this metallic, coppery tang to it- 'Old World Gold', as GoddoG put it in his more lucid moments. Out in the wasteland proper, it wasn't as strong, but it was still there, ticking away in the background- but not here, somehow they'd cooked it all out.

On a whim, I turned to my pip-boy, turning the display to diagnostics and tapping the rads gauge to free up the needle- it'd been stuck on zero for a bit, probably a bit of grit caught in the works. When it still didn't move, and the digital display also showed zeroes, or barely above zero, across the board. The sensor module must've given up the ghost or something- once I was in town, and scraped together some caps, I could probably get that fixed. For now I was flying blind.

Vance looked over at me again, a little concerned- probably worried I was about to spew, but my gut felt pretty well settled, better than usual after a wasteland breakfast. "Hey kid, what's up- something wrong with that doohickey on your wrist?"

"The pip-boy? Yeah, I guess it's a little dinged up," I admitted, idly running my fingers over a little gouge in it's Bakelite shell. "Should be an easy fix once we're back in town."

"Pip boy?" He tasted the words like an unusual vintage. "Can't say that rings any bells, where'd you get it?"

"From one of the vaults, originally," I lied casually. It wasn't even untrue, technically- I just didn't want to bring Doc Mitchell's name into this, just in case. These were strangers, and nice as they seemed right now I gave it even odds that they were about to break out the slave collars and buzzsaws- nobody is that nice without something big to hide.

"Like, underground? Around here, you mean- in Vacuo?" He seemed strangely confused still, like he'd never heard of anything I was talking about- he wasn't an idiot, clearly, but he seemed weirdly uninformed.

"No, that was out in the Mojave- a different desert, a ways away from here," I explained patiently. "Out west? These things aren't exactly uncommon out there, a fair few people have them. Handy for keeping stuff organised, you know? Map's handy too…"

"Ah, so it's like a scroll!" He pulled out a little widget, tugging the ends apart to reveal a flimsy-looking screen. "Yours is a little bulky, but I guess it's similar?"

"Sure," I agreed easily enough, looking to end this conversation- that 'scroll' seemed like some fancy tech, which gave me an uneasy feeling that they were some kind of tech-fetishist tribe who were likely to steal everything with a transistor.

Fortunately, the hue and cry went up before the conversation could go much further, and we had to mount up and get ready to press on- the more that got said, the worse things would get for me, judging by the way Vance was probing. Not a good look, being interrogated out in the desert where they could just leave me in a shallow grave no trouble, but I wouldn't make it far running out in the open like this- better to hang tight until we got closer to the city, where I could get lost and plan my next moves.

I found myself saddled with the goat, harnessed with a rope collar, and fell back to the midpoint of the convoy. It was fairly slow going- the carts were pulled by bulky little horses, but they could only go as fast as the slowest person, and most of us were walking alongside them- only a few people squeezed alongside the cargo, those who couldn't walk for whatever reason. It was odd to see so many older folks and kids- I'd figured this was a trade caravan, or some kind of transport convoy, but this seemed more like real nomadism, a whole community on the move.

"So, what brings you out here?" I asked one of the drovers, a short man with a peg leg perched up on one of the carts. He glanced down at me, spat a wad of chewing tobacco into the sand before speaking.

"You ain't from round here, are ya? You got the hat and coat for it, but no idea what's what out in the desert- no real Vacuan would ask a question like that!"

"Sure ain't, I came from out west," I said, easygoing- no point trying to argue the point. Something in that answer softened the man.

"On the coast? Heard bad things happened to the villages out there, with the Grimm. Sorry kid, I'd pegged you as another city rat…" He pulled a canteen from his robes, took a swig. "You get that sometimes, dumb kids heading out here unprepared and expecting us to save their sorry asses. At least the professor hired us before heading out, instead of getting hisself into a mess and leaving us to pick up the bodies…"

"You're guides? Seems like a lot of people for that." I wasn't looking to be impudent, but here was an opportunity to get the lay of the land- gotta ask your questions when you can.

"Not just guides," the old codger corrected me, a touch of wounded pride in his voice. "We are the Yehrrin Wilh-ma- we were once one of the great tribes of Vacuo, my father fought alongside the warrior king himself during the Great War!"

"I didn't mean anything by it," I said, raising my hands placatingly, glancing around the convoy. "Looks like you've got a whole passel of people out here."

"Everyone in the tribe," he confirmed. "The desert doesn't stand for folks getting fat and lazy- better to keep on the move."

Nomads. I'd had a few run-ins with them, but it was on the way out- proper governments like the NCR, and even the legion, didn't much cotton to that sort of thing. Hard to tax and police people who could just up sticks and vanish on a whim.

"Must be a hard life," I said offhand. "Guessing the cities aren't much help, either?"

The old-timer chuckled. "They're soft. Still good for trade, get us some handy tools and geegaws from the other kingdoms."

Other kingdoms? They had to be pretty minor, if there wasn't word of them in the NCR, but having more than one of them all clustered up seemed like it would make for a regional power no matter how you sliced it. Could be I was out east, further than I'd figured, out beyond the NCR's vision; that, or down south, past the borders of the old USA, where the NCR's colonies had been beaten back. Nothing for it but to keep building my pile of bullshit- bluff my way through.

"How far do you reckon it is to the city?" I asked, still trying to keep it casual. "Might want to do some trading myself, top up my supplies a little…"

"We're almost there, but you really think you're shy on supply?" he asked, glancing over at my backpack. "Looks like you're carrying half a caravan on your back already, boy!"

I adjusted a strap. "Yeah, I guess- some hides and extra meat, nothing useful to me," I clarified, lest he decide to take a look through and nick my gold bar. "Gonna trade it in for meds and ammo, find some work- you got any need for a courier?"

He chuckled at that little joke. "Can't say I do, kid. It's unusual for someone your age to be worrying about things like that- I thought your folks were farmers?" He gave a pointed glance at my goat.

"Yeah, they are… it's just, uh…" I floundered for a moment, trying to figure out the best line of crap to sell, before we crested a dune and I stopped dead, the rest of the convoy continuing past me.

I'd never seen anything like it, even Vegas was no match for it; the city followed the usual layout, a sprawling settlement outside the walls and richer highrises behind fortifications, but everything was turned up far beyond what was reasonable, unimaginably opulent. It was hard to tell at this distance, but even in the slums I could see a fair few glass windows, and the streets had been swept entirely free of rubble- even the city walls were made of purpose-cut blocks of sandstone, towering above the pre-war walls of the old Mormon fort. Behind them, a strange pyramid loomed, easily standing as tall as the Lucky 38, with none of the grime and rust of the years staining it, each layer covered in massive ramps where I could see crowds congregating in the mid-morning sun.

My mind raced, trying to square this vision with what I knew about the world. If this was the size of one kingdom, there was no way they could've stayed unknown. I'd been around the length and breadth of the NCR's territory, spoken with traders and refugees from out as far as the Commonwealth- this was beyond even the most fanciful tales I'd traded for whiskey or beer. For a second, I saw the Sierra Madre, the way it must've been before the Cloud and the Bombs and the years of neglect, a pre-war city in it's prime, the vision which drove Elijah stark raving mad made manifest.

I was jolted out of my daze when a woman of the tribe shouldered past me, shooting me an odd look on the way past- I resettled the pack on my shoulders, and hurried forwards, retaking my place in the caravan. "Lost you there for a moment there, boy- aren't you looking to get back to the city?"

"Sure am," I said, trying to keep a casual air despite my moment of awe. "Always a sight to see the big city…"

The old man squinted at me. "You really are a village kid, ain't you?"

"I'm no city rat," I confirmed, glancing back at the city- still just as impossibly big and rich as my first glimpse of it. "Can't imagine living in a place like that…"

"You and me both," the old-timer nodded sagely. "Still gotta get you back to your folks, though. They in one of the refugee districts?"

"Yeah, from out west, after the grimm took out our village," I said, trying to keep my story straight, bringing my memories of Nipton to mind to try and set the right tone.

"Just stick close until we've found them, eh? You know kids have been going missing in the city, the Doc would complain if we lost you after dragging you all the way out of the desert…"

*****​

It took three hours for the Yehrrin Wilh-ma to get properly prepared- they wouldn't be risking their carts and livestock in the narrow streets and winding alleys of the city, instead setting up an encampment outside and picking out a small party to escort their employers into the city, collect their pay and pick up some tools and supplies from the market- not to mention a few luxuries that were harder to lay hands on out in the desert, chiefly alcohol and cheap scrolls loaded down with games and videos.

Doctor Oobleck and Vance discussed matters with the headsman of the tribe as they prepared to head out. "If you can accompany me to the bank, I'll cover the remainder of your payment there- and once again, you have my thanks for your assistance- I believe without your expertise we would never have found the site of The Sunderer's prison city. Your contribution to an accurate history of Remnant will not go without proper recognition!"

Vance glanced around. "So, while you're dealing with that, I'll get the kid to his folks, and then we can meet up at the academy and sort out transport back to Vale?" He wiped sweat from his brow theatrically. "I won't miss the heat here, that's for sure…"

Even as this conversation was taking place, however, the subject of their plans was putting his own schemes into place. Not that it was anything elaborate- in the hustle and bustle of the encampment, it wasn't too difficult for the courier to tag along with one of the parties heading into the city, and by the time anyone present had noted his absence, there was no sign of himself or his goat to be found, already vanished into the alleys of Vacuo City.

Chapter Text

The most important thing, when you’re alone in unfamiliar surroundings, is to change that as quick as possible. It’s a rough situation to be in, so you either find folks who can watch your back, or you get yourself familiar with the terrain right quick; fortunately, there’s a one-stop shop for both allies and information, if you’re lucky. Hopefully whiskey’s cheap here, I hoped in vain; looking at how rich everyone seemed around here, prices would be sky high for sure. Still, I found a homely little taphouse, somewhere that reminded me of home, tied my goat outside and fed it a handful of pinyon nuts to keep it quiet, and sauntered through the saloon doors, projecting as much confidence as I could. Not that I drew much attention; there were maybe a half dozen people scattered around the bar, drinking alone and in pairs scattered around in the gloom. Bartender was a skinny guy, casually dressed, eyes on his scroll- he started a little when I cleared my throat.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a salesman’s smile, all forced cheer. “What can I do for you?”

I dropped my pack to the ground, hopped up onto a barstool so I could look him in the eye. “How much is your whiskey going for?”

He looked taken aback for some reason, like someone getting a drink at a bar was some kind of weird taboo. “I’m gonna need to see some ID first, mate,” he finally said, still keeping up that expression of forced cheer.

“ID? Like a passport?”

Another pause, another odd look. “Yeah, like a passport, or a drivers license… anything with a picture of you. You alright, mate?”

“Fine, but I don’t have any ID,” I admitted. “That gonna be a problem?”

“I can’t sell alcohol to a kid,” he explained. “Academy gets pissed about that.” He frowned at my confused expression. “Look, it ain’t complicated. Just get your ID- get a fake, for all I care! That, or just find someone willing to buy you booze from the supermarket. You just can’t buy booze here without ID!”

I shrugged. “What else do you got, then? How much is water?”

“Water’s fifty lien,” he said casually. “Soda’s two hundred.”

I eyed him a moment, trying to judge what that was- lien was most likely the local scrip, like NCR dollars or legion denarii. Of course I didn’t have that, but luckily there was a pretty universal currency for travellers like me.

“What’s that in caps?”

“Caps? What do you mean, like-” I cut him off by dropping my purse onto the bartop- there was a good chunk of change in there, just shy of two hundred caps which glinted from the open top of the little leather pouch. The barkeep’s eyes narrowed. “This some kind of joke?? Get out of here kid!”

I slipped the pouch back into my duster pocket hurriedly. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it!” I fumbled briefly, pulling out my other cash. “I have NCR dollars, and some legion coin if y’all’d rather take that...”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. “Paper notes and cosplay coins? Look buddy, if this is some kinda joke it’s not funny- get the hell out before there’s trouble, now.”
He was reaching under the bar, a familiar gesture, and I could hear footfalls behind me- one of the day-drinkers deciding to intervene. I smoothly stood, turning just fast enough to flare out my coat, revealing the shotgun tucked beneath it as I collected my pack- the drinker, a whip-thin woman with some unfortunate tattoos inked up and down her arms, wisely backed away a pace as I fled the scene.

I wonder if this is what Joe Cobb felt like?

It was a completely different situation, of course- I just wanted to buy a drink, trade some gossip and be on my merry way, would’ve been as peaceful as a lamb if the fellow behind the bar hadn’t started complicating things. Flashing the gun was… unfortunate, though. Didn’t sit right with me, even if I’d have done it again without question. I made myself scarce, ducking into a tangle of alleyways away from what sparse crowds there were in this part of town, paused to fish out a smoke and scan my surroundings.

It was like someone had taken a nicer neighbourhood from Freeside, spent a few hours sweeping almost all the rubble and trash away, hired on a team of expert builders to smooth over every scar and rough spot on the surrounding walls. Nice enough, in a vaguely unsettling way. Much like a freeside alley, it had it’s inhabitants; a twitchy, rail-thin stick of a kid, eyes uneasily jerking from place to place, scanning his surroundings without seeing properly. They landed on me, and he ranged forwards with a child’s overconfidence, a grin on his face. “Hey buddy, you got a spare lighter?”

His eyes weren’t on me, fixed instead just over my shoulder- well-trained instincts kicked in, and I ducked to the side even as the kid’s mate went for a grab, fingertips dragging across the fabric of my coat. I made as much distance as I could before they could regroup, unlimbering my shotgun and taking aim in their rough direction.

There was a brief moment of stillness, the kid’s mate- older, at least in his twenties, maybe a parent or older brother- gauging the distance between us. He moved, and my finger tightened on the trigger, gunshot echoing like a cannon in the narrow confines of the alley.

I don’t know what made me shift my aim, send a spray of buckshot into the ground instead of his gut. That sort of softness is what gets good folks killed so often- but the kid was watching, all wide-eyed fear and shaking hands, and I didn’t have the heart to kill the guy in front of him. Not a good thing for a kid to see.

Even without hitting home, the shot did it’s job- their resolve broke when I racked another round into the chamber, and the big guy turned tail, limping slightly where a few pellets had winged him, his kid rushing ahead. I watched them go, just in case they got any stupid ideas about turning around and taking another swing at me, then beat feet myself when I heard raised voices approaching. Don’t want to be hanging around holding a gun when the mob comes to investigate- I almost got my ass beaten by the Kings once, only one of them recognised me from some work I’d done for the Followers a few weeks back- a good reputation I couldn’t rely on out here, so instead I beat feet, the sounds of investigation behind me.

That first pub had been a bust, and the alleyways seemed less than inviting after that little run-in, so I headed for a broader avenue- more crowded, which set the hair on the back of my neck prickling, but it was easy enough to disappear into the masses of people. I just hoped that nobody from the convoy would find me, make me pay back whatever debts I owed them for safe passage out of the desert.

One thing I noticed, now that I was in the more crowded streets of Vacuo City, was how strangely colourful everything was. Not just the signs, with their flashing lights and lack of wear and tear, but the people. Everyone was dressed like a peacock, or some sort of venomous animal’s warning signs- bright reds, greens and blues clashed together as people passed by each other, hair dyed pink and green and yellow to match the fashions. I was used to more… practicality, for lack of a better word. Dyes were expensive, and these people seemed to take them for granted, with casual clothes in shades of purple and blue that would break an NCR cattle baron’s wallet clean in two. My own clothes, muddy browns and faded greys, almost stood out more for their everyday plainness- it was like everyone wore their wealth on their backs, showing off their deep pockets with every garish colour and finely-spaced seam.

I wandered a little aimlessly, letting the flow of the crowd set my pace and direction, still trying to get a feel for the place. My first impressions fit pretty well- the people were rich, the buildings well-maintained, glass in the windows and carts selling a bizarre array of foods- I recognised a dogmeat vendor, selling sausages in buns, and someone selling barbecued insects of some kind under a sign saying ‘Fresh Shrimp and Crab Barbecue’, but the rest was strange, frozen cream treats and some sort of deep-fried sweet fritters. Every town had it’s own foods, but it was odd to see a place with none of the staples- nothing pre-war, no radroach steaks or bloatfly sliders. I’d thought it might be some kind of local taboo about eating insects, until I saw the shrimp stand.

The prices were all listed with a strange, stylized L- Lien, like the barkeep had mentioned. I’d need to find some cash, and I wasn’t much of a pickpocket, which limited my options- before I had a chance to properly consider or plan, I saw something which stopped me dead in my tracks. A shock of white hair, briefly seen through the crowds- Vance, no doubt trying to track me down to claim his owed payment. Couldn’t afford to be seen by him, especially not without any lien in my pocket, so I ducked down a side street, into the first shop I saw without big glass windows to give my position away, letting out a breath and fumbling for a cigarette and a match.

“What do you think you’re doing??” A strident voice interrupted me, and I glanced around, taking a proper look around for the first time. Shelf after shelf, loaded down with books- all kept in pristine condition- a bigger collection than any I’d seen before, even in some of the old Mojave vaults. Figured that someone with a collection like that wouldn’t want any smoke to stain the pages, or a fire to risk leaving the whole thing in ashes.

“Sorry about that,” I said, palming my lighter and returning the smoke to it’s little box. “Didn’t see your set-up here, is this all your collection?”

“It’s my shop, didn’t you read the sign?” The speaker was an old lady, walnut skin wrinkled and back bent by old age. “Amaranth’s Books, Second Hand Sales for the Discerning Customer.”

I could hear the capital letters in that slogan, something in the way she spoke- the same cadence as Cliff welcoming me into the Dino Bite gift shop, and trying to convince me to blow my caps on a toy dinosaur. A comfortable moment of familiarity.

“I’d be interested in buying, but I don’t have any lien… any chance we can make a deal? I have some books I could trade in…”

She sniffed at that. “Perhaps there’s something we can do… what do you have?”

Luckily, I’d kept my books separate from the rest, wrapped in a tanned pouch to keep the blood and sand from ruining them too badly. “I’ve got the Wasteland Survival Guide, a few issues of the Milsurp Review and a copy of Guns and Ammo, and… Dean’s Electronics, slightly stained.” That last book still had the reddish cloud residue of the Madre clinging to it- I’d tried to scrub it clean with some sand, but it didn’t seem like there was anything to do about it without damaging the cover.

Amaranth sniffed at the little pile I’d made. “The condition isn’t very good… and I don’t recognise any of these authors.” She picked up one of the magazines, carefully leafing through it. “What is this? No mechashift, no Dust reviews, nothing for the prospective huntsman…” She shot me an unamused look, her frown only deepening when I pointed out the article on hunting rifles.

“These, I can sell as a novelty,” she concluded, collecting my magazines and books on guns. “The rest, I’d have to read through before putting them on the shelves- can’t sell a survival guide full of nonsense, or an electronics manual which doesn’t have any good information on dust usage. Where did you find these books?”

“Here and there,” I said, evading the question. “They’re useful, though. The survival guide has saved my skin more than once, and I hand load my ammo using the steps in that book…” I glanced around, spotting the prices listed on a dusty chalkboard- a hundred lien for a magazine, five for a paperback, and seven hundred for a hardcover, all prices subject to change for individual products. “All told, I want four hundred each for the books, and all five magazines for another four hundred- that makes a thousand, six hundred all told. Could you throw in a copy of that magazine there, too?” I added that as an afterthought, pointing out a little pamphlet with ‘Road Maps of the Four Kingdoms’ inked across the front. “Also, can I stay here a while to do some reading?”

Amaranth looked over the empty store. “Sure, you can stick around a bit, unless it gets crowded… there’s couches for a reason, after all. No food or drink though- and no smoking!” She considered my offer. “Fifteen hundred lien, and the map book,” she concluded, and I shook her hand.

“No problem with that,” I agreed to her terms- fifteen hundred lien didn’t seem like much compared to the prices everyone was charging, but it was infinitely more than I’d had before. I settled down with the mapbook, leafing through it quietly as I looked over coastlines and tried to place myself with the hazy memories of the few world maps I’d seen in my time. She counted out five little plastic cards- about the size of an NCR dollar, but thicker, impossible to fold or roll up. They wouldn’t fit in any of my usual pouches, so I slid them loose into a coat pocket, and resigned myself to having them clatter around awkwardly until I could find or sew a proper wallet for them. Our business done, I slumped into a sofa, biting back a hiss of pain as the motion jarred my ribcage just a touch, and set to work.

“Hey, do you have a map of the world I could look at?” I asked, after a half-hour’s increasingly desperate rifling through the little pamphlet, prompting an irritated huff from Amaranth, who was still working her way through Dean’s Electronics. She nodded at a poster hung on one of the walls, and I frowned. “That’s accurate?”

“Accurate enough- what’s the matter with you, kid?”

“Nothing,” I hurriedly ended the conversation. I didn’t remember my maps as well as a real cartographer, but this was something else- a chain of five big islands, with four kingdoms marked out with big stars. Vacuo, Vale, Mistral and Atlas- none of those names were familiar to me, and none of the islands looked like anything I’d seen before- probably just too small to show up on the big maps I’d seen, and too far from the west coast to show up on any of the NCR maps I’d seen. I’d need to get a boat or a vertibird to cross back over to America, plus a good map, plus a decent sailor or pilot I could trust… it’d be a long road back home, and it’d take some real resources to cover the costs.

First thing was to deal with my most pressing issue- dealing with my debt to the convoy without getting my kneecaps broken or my gear stolen. I could maybe get away with laying low for a few days, if my caps had been worth anything and I knew the area well enough, but I needed to keep making lien and scouting out my surroundings if I wanted to survive here- better to find a job that would cover the cost of getting out of town, instead. It was time for some proper courier work.

In the Mojave, that was fairly easy- the Mojave Express covered the whole desert, and they always had contracts available, as long as you weren’t so picky about maybe having mercenaries sent after you for failing to deliver. Out here, it would probably be trickier- no guarantees any of the big players contracted out deliveries, and I couldn’t be sure who was a serious customer and who was a penny-ante huckster without any way to pay me for my time. Best to make sure whoever hired me could at least potentially pay me- it seemed like that big pyramid in the middle of town was the seat of the local government, the academy as the barkeep called it. They’d have the money to pay, and government work almost always paid the full amount promptly. With a nod to the little old lady, still reading through Dean’s Electronics with a glare of increasing confusion, I mounted up and headed back to the city, eyes peeled in case Vance was still hanging around.

He wasn’t there, as far as I could see, but I stuck to the side-streets just in case; it was a more direct path anyway, the main street looped around in a great circle like a cartwheel. Easier to take a more direct route, checking the skyline now and then to make sure I was headed in the right direction, avoiding the darker, denser of the alleyways in case of complications, and keeping my eyes peeled in case Vance or any of the tribals spotted me.

The gates were no issue at all; no trouble with door guards, credit checks or anything like that- they just hung open, the occasional person wandering in or out with hardly a second glance. The locals were no trouble either; dressed even more strangely than the civvies outside, most of them holding weapons of varying levels of practicality- one woman had a fancy-looking rifle slung over her shoulder, talking animatedly with some guy who had honest-to-god circular saws strapped to his wrists. Most of the people here were around my age, though it was hard to tell with how tall most everyone was- must’ve been something in the water around here, or a side-effect of how much food everyone seemed to have here.

The Academy itself was a sight to behold- a huge pyramid, stepped with ramps leading up each level, big enough to fit an entire mojave town with plenty of leg-room to spare. There were even trees growing around it, hanging gardens around the top- I could only imagine how much water it took to keep the space green in the middle of the desert. The main gate at the base of the pyramid was closed, seemed uninviting, but higher up on the next level was a gaping open doorway- if this was the local government, I’d have expected some sort of reception, or place for people to pay tribute.

I’d paused to take in the sights, eyeball the weapons on display and make a note of where the big threats were, just in case, when a strange, abrasive sound cut through the background noise- the irritated bleating of a goat. Behind me, in the lee of the gateway, that damned goat strained against it’s harness trying to get to me, dragging out lines in the sand as it’s hooves slid against the ground. Holding the rope, seemingly completely unbothered by the two hundred odd pounds of irate ungulate trying to tug him forward, Vance stared at me, face set in a scowl.

“What the hell kid?? Why’d you go running off like that?” He advanced towards me, irritation clear in his stride, and I glanced around looking for an escape. “Now I hear you’ve been tearing around town, causing trouble all over the shop? What gives?”

I spotted my opportunity, and took it- as he took a breath to keep berating me, a ducked to my right, putting a gaggle of the academy’s soldiers between us as I made a break for the pyramid. As long as I could get out of his sight, I could maybe get him off my tail and regroup. The goat would slow him down there, hopefully- how it’d found me I had no idea, if it could have traced my scent or if the whole thing was just a big coincidence. Behind me, I could hear an outraged bleat, and Vance’s raised voice.

“Get that kid!”

I wouldn’t have expected that to matter much, but apparently the folks here responded well to vague, shouted orders- there was still a fair bit of confusion, but a few of them, in units of four, looked around and fixed eyes on me. I adjusted my angle of escape, ducking past a lazy grab from some tall redhead and aiming to blast straight by the lass with the rifle- weapon like that is pretty ungainly up close and personal, and the buzzsaw boy she was talking to could probably be written off, if he was dumb enough to carry a weapon like that.

The first part of the plan went okay- she hesitated to take the shot on me, instead taking a startled swing at me, holding the barrel of her rifle like a baseball bat- unexpected, but it was telegraphed enough that I managed to slide underneath it, getting her between me and my pursuers. By the time her mate was ready to react, I’d gotten back on my feet, ignoring the grinding pain from my ribs as I burst back into a dead sprint, out of reach of his little handheld blades.

I wasn’t ready for him to throw them- a spinning blade under foot sent me skidding and stumbling, barely keeping myself from eating sand as I windmilled my arms, catching one of the palm trees which they’d grown around the academy to maintain my balance. I could’ve kept running, too, maybe made good my escape, if it weren’t for that bastard throwing a second sawblade, missing my body but punching through my coat and pinning me to the tree. I was still trying to pry it out when the goat caught up to me, bruising my leg with a nasty butt of it’s head and leaving me clinging to the tree for balance once again.

“It’s a fair cop,” I admitted, breathing hard through the pain in my chest. “I give up- but I’ve hardly got anything to pay y’all with.”

Vance blinked at me, face a picture of confusion. “Pay? What do you… pay for what?”

“For transport, and patching me up?” I eyeballed him, trying to figure out where this confusion was coming from. “I… I don’t really have any people out here, so nobody else is gonna cover that cost. Maybe we can work out a deal, I can do work, or if y’all can take denarii- I swear, I was gonna pay y’all back, I just need some time!”

Vance looked weirdly embarrassed, and the folks hanging around to watch this little display were muttering amongst themselves- I just caught little snippets of conversation, words like “loan shark” and “shake down”.

“I don’t… Doctor Oobleck will know what to do with you,” he decided finally, yanking the blade from my coat with one hand and tossing it lightly back to the guy who’d pinned me down, letting me drop to sit down against the tree. Raising his voice to address the crowd, he spoke. “This poor kid is just confused! I’m not going to take any money from him!” I shook my head at that, playing to the crowd when Vance’s attention was distracted, at least until the goat wandered over and butted it’s head gently against my face until I mollified it with scratches behind the ears. Vance lifted me by the collar of my jacket, looked me up and down.

“We’re gonna have a talk later,” he grumbled. “You snuck away from the convoy, you went to some dive bar and tried to pay with fake money, you abandoned your goat tied to some streetlight, and I’m willing to bet the gunshots people heard was you too?”

“It’s not fake money,” I insisted. “And there was only one gunshot!”

A brief silence stretched between us as I realised what I’d said, so I added “Or so I heard, because I wasn’t there.”

Vance was unconvinced. “Bart will know what to do with you, kid…”

Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck was, at that exact moment, not far away at all. Vacuo City was a chaotic place at the best of times, and it wasn’t unusual for people to fall through the cracks with no record of their comings and goings- some folks liked that just fine, but when it came to refugees, kids and the local orphanages the academy tried to do a little better by it’s record keeping. There should have been some word, if he truly had come from one of the lost coastal villages- a next of kin, a family name, anything. “

“How certain are you that this kid even came from the city?” With an irritated flicker of her ears, the unfortunate student who’d been assigned detention helping out in the library, Olive Gashley, voiced her complaint. “This could be a complete waste of time if he’s not from here, professor.”

“Doctor,” Oobleck corrected her sternly. “And I do not believe this is a waste of time regardless of what we find, Ms Gashley. If young mister Courier is, as he claimed, from the western coast, it is likely there will be some record of him either in the outgoing settlers or the refugee census. If he is not in either of these sources- and I admit, this is beginning to seem more likely- then we have learned an important piece of information; that he lied about his origin.” Oobleck turned a page, scanning through a tightly-spaced ledger of names, arrival dates and points of origin. “Proper investigation can be an important part of a huntsman’s duties, and this is an important part of the investigative process. While I have the utmost faith in Huntsman Whittle’s abilities, it is nonetheless important that we gather whatever information we can.” He glanced up, noticed that Olive had once again taken to staring out of the window at the academy courtyard, where her peers were enjoying the day off classes. “We will not find this missing boy staring out of the window!”

“This missing boy, he’s in his late teens, but pretty short and skinny, right? Wears a lot of brown, a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat?” Olive’s voice was distant, her focus decidedly elsewhere.

“That’s the description, yes,” Oobleck replied, stepping over to the window to see what it was that had so captivated his errant student.

“I think he just walked through the front gate.”

Oobleck squinted, momentarily dumbfounded as he identified Courier, and both of them silently watched the brief, abortive attempt at escape once Vance caught up to him. “Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Gorey,” he said. “Now, I believe I will soon be called to the infirmary; replace these books in their proper places, and after that I will consider your detention served.”

“Thanks doc,” Olive enthused, before glancing around the little reading room they’d commandeered for their search- as Doctor Oobleck strode out into the academy proper, asking a passing student for directions to the infirmary, she started piling up books, ears flattening with a despairing whine as she tottered under the weight of a stack taller by far than she was.

Chapter Text

I didn’t get another opportunity to run- between the little scene in the courtyard alerting the soldiers milling around to keep an eye on me, and Vance keeping a firm grip on my jacket collar, there wasn’t much of anything I could do but accept him dragging me into the great pyramid. Inside was as odd as everything else in this town; smooth walls, uncluttered hallways, what metalwork there was remained thoroughly burnished and free of rust. I figured there’d be some sort of holding cell set up, like an NCR debtor’s prison- these people didn’t seem like slavers from what I’d seen, unless they were shipping people out to work camps away from the city, so I wasn’t as concerned as I would’ve been in Legion hands. Crucifixion seemed completely out of the question.

What I wasn’t expecting was to be taken to a functional hospital. I’ve seen more than my share of medics- mostly the Followers camp in the Old Mormon Fort, where they at least had some medical training, but on a few unfortunate occasions I’d had to chance Strauss’s tent full of dubious chems out in Novac- still had the scars from a botched surgery out there, the last time I’d paid for her services. If someone offers you a discount on surgery for giving them a clean scalpel, just say no.

There was no comparison to that here, though- Strauss’s rusty scalpels or the Follower’s tents, or even the New Vegas Medical Clinic on the outskirts of Freeside, couldn’t hold a candle to this place. About a dozen beds arrayed in neat rows, clean linens, sealed glass cabinets of pill bottles- even a couple of working computers in a little office set up in the corner. Typing away furiously was a bespectacled old man, hairline receding and face wrinkled as a prune, sharp green eyes and a matching tie tucked into his white coat. Seemed he’d taken to the fashion for animal ears, too; I’d seen a few people in the city wearing them, ears or tails or horns from a whole range of animals. It was odd, but I hadn’t really given it a second look; after seeing a man wearing a whole dog’s head ranting in the ruins of a razed town, you tend to raise the bar a little on what makes for an odd fashion choice. A furry headband isn’t much of a thing, compared to that.

He scowled at us as Vance led me in, goat still trailing behind. “Who’s this? Not one of our students- have you been collecting strays, Whittle? Put him down, and get that goat out of here- what possessed you to let that thing in, this is meant to be a sterile space!”

Vance hesitated before putting my down, and shot me with a hard stare. “Stay put here, or there’ll be real trouble. Understand?” He held my gaze until I finally nodded my acquiescence, before taking a hold of the goat’s lead and tugging it away from where it had been placidly gnawing on one of the blankets. My eyes flickered to the door as it swung shut behind him, but before I could make a move the medic was looming over me, deceptively tall for his stooped frame.

“So, how are you feeling, sonny?” he squinted at me. “Any injuries I should be aware of?”

“Nothing too bad,” I replied. “Think Vance just needed somewhere to stash me for a moment, mister...”

“Doctor Mazon,” he corrected me, before narrowing his eyes as I shifted my weight uneasily. “So you have no injuries?”

Without waiting for a reply, he suddenly lashed out, jabbing me lightly in the ribs, forcing a yelp of pain. “What gives, pal??”

“You’ve been running around with a broken rib- if you don’t get it set properly, and get a few weeks bedrest, it won’t heal properly.” He growled sternly, wolf ears flattening- I blinked at that, finally noticing that, without hair to hide it, I could see them growing cleanly out of his scalp. He noticed me staring, and gave an irritated huff, shoving some kind of flimsy gown into my hands. “You can get changed behind those screens- your clothes are filthy, there’s no way I’ll have them in my nice clean clinic!”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” I gave in, retreating behind this little cloth screen- I’d seen them before, hiding operating tables and other messy sights in medic’s tents, but this one seemed to just be for getting changed. Seemed odd that they were giving out free clothes, too- the gown wasn’t exactly good, but it seemed well-made, and you couldn’t get a better price than free. Awkward hiding my gear under it, though- I managed to smuggle my weapons from the Madre, a snubnosed .357 and knife strapped to my legs under the gown. Only six shots in the revolver, since I didn’t have any pockets for extra rounds- hopefully that’d be enough to lay hands on a better gun. The rest, I tucked away in my backpack- it was just barely tall enough to fit my shotgun, although I felt a pang in my gut giving up my best weapon in such dangerous territory.

It took maybe ten minutes to get changed and make sure my weapons were squared away or properly hidden on my person. Would have been half as long if I could bend over properly, but the doctor jabbing me in the ribs had reignited a dull ache every time I twisted or moved too quickly.

“Good lad, get onto that bed,” he said when I emerged, and I took a seat on the side of it, facing him. “Doctor Oobleck gave you an initial examination, I’m going to give you a full check-up and treatment. Any questions?”

His tone was stern, not really inviting any questions, but I just had to ask.

“What’s with your ears?”

He blinked, wrong footed and offended. “What do you mean??”

“You have four ears?”

After a tense pause, he seemed to deflate, muttering angrily. “Seven years of med school, thirty years as a doctor, and people only see my ears…” He locked his gaze on me, eyes blazing. “Yes, I am a faunus. If you have any problems with that, I invite you to keep them to yourself!”

I’d stepped onto a landmine, it seemed. This faunus stuff seemed a sight better than becoming a ghoul, but it made sense that folks would be wary of mutation like that. Seemed pretty widespread, some kind of local radiation exposure or a local strain of FEV.

“Hey, I’ve got no problems,” I raised my hands, mollifying the medic. “Just idle curiosity boss, nothing more.”

He still eyed me suspiciously, not entirely accepting my explanation, but willing to let it go for now. He busied himself with the basic checks, freezing for a moment at my scalp. “You’ve been shot in the head,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice.

“I s’pose so,” I admitted, trying to keep casual. I hadn’t settled that particular account yet, but it was a matter of time- that bastard in his fancy suit had still been holed up in Vegas last I’d heard,as long as he was still there when I made it back home I’d put him in the ground. “Doc Mitchell stitched me up pretty good, though.”

“Stitched you up pretty good,” Doc Mazon repeated with a trace of disbelief in his voice. “And this Doc Mitchell is a licensed medical practitioner? Where is he based?”

“In Goodsprings, out west. Sure, he’s licensed and all,” I said, not certain if I was telling the truth and not particularly caring. He’d been a vault doctor back in his day, and Vault-Tech were the sorts to worry about paperwork for that sort of thing. Even so, I could tell Mazon was sceptical

“You understand I’m obligated to report this?”

“It’s a waste of time,” I protested. “It happened a long way away from here- y’all will never catch the guy who did it.”

The conversation petered out there, as the doctor went to make his reports. I lay back, watching the lights flicker and hum above me and thanking my lucky stars he’d stopped his examination before finding the knife strapped to my thigh, or the gun nestled at the small of my back. Soon enough, Vance made his return, without the goat, accompanied instead by the green-haired doctor from the convoy. He had an odd look on his face, almost pained.

“Good afternoon young mister… Courier,” he started, putting a sceptical edge onto the name. Made sense- not like it was my real name, well as it served for now. “Doctor Mazon tells me you’ve been in the wars- not only the injuries you sustained from Grimm and a poor lifestyle, but also a shooting? I am a fully licensed huntsman as well as a doctor of history; thus, I am entirely qualified to bring your assailant or assailants to justice, if you’ll simply tell me what precisely happened, to the best of your recollection?”

I honestly considered explaining everything- the pre-war tech which had sent me so far from home, how Benny had bushwhacked me, tied my hands and put me into a shallow grave with a bullet in my brainpan, the long and twisted road to Vegas… if I started speaking, I knew I’d spill my guts, wouldn’t stop talking until after I’d said too much, so I kept my mouth shut. Oobleck frowned at that.

“If you don’t wish to speak about that, why not tell us a little about yourself? You mentioned you’re unfamiliar with Vacuo City during our journey, have you ever been here before?”

“Can’t say I have,” I spoke, if only to stem the deluge of words, but tried to keep things nice and casual, not letting on my irritation that the old-timer from the caravan must’ve let on what we were talking about. “It’s a mighty fine town y’all have out here, I s’pose.”

That won me a moment’s quiet, Oobleck puzzled by my response. “A… mighty fine town? I suppose you could say so- have you travelled widely? The bartender you had your little fracas with mentioned you tried to pay in foreign currency and strange coins, would you mind explaining where precisely you came upon those? I have an interest in the artefacts of Vacuo- hence my trip out to investigate certain buried ruins from the reign of Malik the Sunderer.”

I knew the ploy- try to start a rapport, give a little information so the poor sap you’re interrogating feels like they’ve got to balance the scales. It would’ve been smarter to keep quiet, but I wanted to keep my options open, keep these ‘Huntsmen’ on side for as long as I could manage. Besides, if this man was just another prospector with a fancy title, it would make any negotiations much easier.

“Buried ruins? You mean pre-war? Doesn’t seem like this whole region was hit too hard…”

“That’s simply not true! Your historical learning seems to have been somewhat lacking- while it is true that Vacuo was a later arrival into the Great War, the nature of the conflict and the pre-existing position of Mistrali and Mantlesian forces in the country have left a greater legacy of the war than perhaps any other place on Remnant, notwithstanding the Faunus Rights Revolution-” He cut himself off before setting to a real lecture, perhaps noting my increasingly glazed-over stare. The man spoke quickly, words almost running together, as if he was more interested in getting as much out as quickly as possible than actually being heard and understood.

“Maybe I could learn more from some books?” I suggested- it would be a dull few days waiting for an opportunity to make good my escape, and if the doctor was willing to do that favour it opened the door to more later. The history books he gave me made for a pretty interesting read, as it happened- they read like they were aimed at naive children, and I could tell they were sanitising the worst of it by how they’d skip over some things a little too eagerly, but it was a primer on the most recent big fight. The numbers given were insane, tens of thousands of people fighting on each side- the more I read, the more an uneasy feeling curdled in my gut- even assuming the figures were inflated tenfold, it would make the first battle of Hoover Dam look like a minor tribal dust-up.

It was the next day that things started to go utterly sideways; I’d slept with one eye open, stashed my weapons in my bedclothes just in case, and nobody had come after me in the night, but the very next morning the medic had wanted to run more tests- and try as I might, he was a stone wall to my attempts to bluff my way around them. No problem, since my contraband wasn’t on my person, right?

Wrong. These people were mad for cleanliness, and the doc had a couple of helpers come in to clean up that morning- he called them students, presumably some sort of medical apprenticeship. I didn’t think anything of it until one of them started stripping the bed-linens, sending my pistol tumbling to the ground with an almighty clatter.

“You know we’re just tryin’ to help you out, right kid? What were you hiding these for?”

Vance was trying to play the good cop, all soft-spoken concern, as he eyed my weapons on the table in front of him warily. A kitchen knife and revolver wasn’t the biggest deal, but my blunder in getting caught with them opened the door to more trouble; now they had an excuse to search my bag, go through my clothes. I stayed silent, slumping in my chair- looked like they’d co-opted a classroom for this, like they didn’t have a proper interrogation room on hand, which didn’t make much sense to me.

After a drawn-out pause, Vance sighed. “Son, you know that if you’re wrapped up in something that’s… not exactly legal, you can tell us? You’re not a bad kid, I can tell- just let us help you!”

“I’m not some kid,” I bit out, my well of patience with his condescension finally running dry. “And if you really want to help me, you’ll give me my things back, give me a vertibird and pilot, and let me head back home.”

Vance blinked. “A… vertibird?”

“You’ve got those here, don’t you? Metal flying machines?”

“You mean a Bullhead?” Vance shook his head. “We’re getting off-track. You said you’re looking to get home- where is that?”

I frowned. “Don’t play dumb, I know your boss has spied on everything I said in the convoy.”

“The Mojave, then?” He phrased it like a question, as if he hadn’t known my answer from the beginning.

“The Mojave.”

“Right, but where is that? We’ve got no record of any town by that name on the continent.” That made sense, from what I’d seen of their maps- this was an insular little community of islanders, they didn’t seem to have any knowledge of the wider world at all.

“I don’t rightly know, it’s a ways away for certain- across the sea by my reckoning. It’s a desert out on the west coast of the old USA- that’s a continent, not sure how much bigger it is than your islands though.”

“Not possible.” Vance’s response was instant, like a reaction. I got ready to explain the situation to him, how there was a whole wide world out past the oceans, when he elaborated. “We’ve been across the oceans, and the world is round- if you go out west from here far enough, you just end up on the east coast of Anima.”

“Nah, that can’t be right.”

“It is!” He paused, pulled out his scroll and found a video- ‘Flat Remnant: A Measured Response’- and set it to playing- after a few minutes, I had to interrupt.

“I’m not saying the world is flat, I’m saying the world is big. Bigger than all your maps show.”

He was completely ready to continue our little debate, when the green-haired doctor stepped in. “Mr Whittle, would you mind if I had a quick word with our guest?”

If Vance had been playing the good cop, this guy would be the bad- I readied myself for whatever threats and violence he would rely on, as Oobleck sat in Vance’s recently vacated seat, and put a small stack of legion denarii on the table in front of me.

“Where did these come from? The inscriptions are old Mistrali, but the mold lines imply a more modern casting methodology than was used in the time of the empire, and the figures on the obverse side of the coin are wearing modern clothing- and the writing refers to a ‘Great leader Caesar’, and a ‘Great Abyss’?”

He pronounced Caesar in the legionary style, with a hard C- that put my back up a little on instinct, and I wasn’t inclined to co-operate with the man.

“You’ve gone through my things, then?” I leaned back in my chair, aiming for a casually insolent air. “I’m surprised you’ve got so many questions about that- just melt ‘em down for silver, because I ain’t telling you squat.”

He paused, gauging my determination to keep my mouth shut, before putting another thing on the table- a shotgun shell, the shot cut off to reveal the powder in it’s cartridge. “What about this? The accelerant is different to anything I’ve seen before, and the academy armourer claims it’s unreactive to any dust-casting techniques she’s attempted so far. It acts like a more stable variant of fire dust- how did you come upon such a thing, in such great quantities? And why carry such a supply of ammunition, what were you planning on doing with that much firepower and no unlocked aura?”

“Aura?” I shook my head, banishing the confusion of those last few words. “Look, I know the deal here- why don’t you drop the charade and just tell me what you want? I ain’t done anything wrong, so what’s it going to take to get my gear back and my boots back on the road. You got some work you want done, or are you just after caps?”
“Caps? I was curious as to why you had such a collection of assorted bottlecaps… Regardless! This is not a shakedown, nor do we intend to hold your property as a lien against your continued good behaviour!” He adjusted his glassed hastily. “My concern is with your wellbeing- your injuries, and the state in which we found you, all point to a grave injustice having been done against your person. I am not your enemy! I simply wish to help you.”

“Sure,” I scoffed. “That’s why you dragged me to this pyramid and won’t let me leave.”

“It’s for you own good-” the doctor started to speak, but he lacked conviction, and I spoke over him easily.

“Then you come after me, put cash and a bullet on the table, and start peppering me with questions- if you don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, why am I still here??”

“You are still here because you need to rest your injury,” the doctor snapped- not shouting, but there was definitely an edge to his voice, almost talking down to me. “You haven’t followed medical advice given in good faith, you’ve lied about your home and family, and you’ve smuggled weapons into the infirmary!” He paused, regaining his composure with a deep breath. “I have extended the benefit of the doubt to you by virtue of the circumstances of our initial meeting; given your poor health and previous injuries, I have sought to help you at every turn. All I ask is that you extend the same basic courtesy to me.”

He had no interest in speaking further, instead escorting me back to the infirmary. I didn’t have much else to say to him, either, so that suited me just fine; I spent the time deep in thought, trying to figure out what game he was running on me. That little outburst seemed more sincere than anything he’d said before, but I wasn’t exactly ready to trust the condescending bastard just yet. I played along, resting in the infirmary, enjoying some decent food and reading whatever books they brought me, trying to tamp down the suspicion that I was somehow very wrong about the place I found myself in.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Shade Academy, Doctor Oobleck sat in front of a screen, the face of his employer fighting through the static of the Vacuo CCT network.

“Headmaster, I hope you received my report on the status of my current expedition? I’m hopeful that I will be able to return to Beacon promptly to prepare for the beginning of the academic year, as soon as we can hash out the details of the exhibition; the artefacts will be displayed in Shade Academy, but brought to Beacon for the Vytal festival for an exhibit as thanks for my role in overseeing the dig.”

“That’s not why you called though, is it?” Headmaster Ozpin remained unruffled by his employee’s typical machine-gun cadence, following his words with practised ease. “Your report mentioned a potential student, an amateur huntsman you found out in the desert?”

Bartholomew averted his eyes slightly before replying. “I’m… uncertain as to the boy’s temperament. We’ve been unable to identify his birthplace, his behaviour has been erratic, and his possessions are… odd- coins designed in the style of the ancient Mistrali empire through modern means, marked with the face of a dictator and the words ‘The Great Abyss’. I believe this may be relevant to our adversary? The boy has several old injuries, which may speak to an… unfortunate upbringing.”

Ozpin steepled his fingers, gave it some thought. “She has used cults and communes to gather supporters to her banner in the past, as you know; I’m sure you’ve considered the possibility that this is a similar situation to that of poor Mr Callows?”

Oobleck nodded. “That is why I contacted you; I believe it’s entirely possible that the boy was raised in such circumstances, and fled with whatever items of value he could find; there was a bar of gold alongside the coins, with unfamiliar bullion markings. It doesn’t match any national reserve markings or major mining operation, which makes me suspect that the boy is from a more… under the radar commune. That would also explain the confusion he has displayed with regards to basic history and geography, if he was raised in such an environment. Headmaster Theodore has asked for the opportunity to detain and interrogate the boy in order to get to the bottom of things, if our adversary has arranged a cell of her supporters in the region.”

A silence stretched on for a long, long while. “And the boy- Courier Six, he claimed his name was?- young mister Six hasn’t given any information about his home?” Ozpin shook his head. “I don’t believe Theodore’s methodology would be well-suited to this situation; I will look to this matter myself.” He gave a small grin. “Hopefully we can make a valuable ally of Courier Six; besides, your initial report did mention that he might make an excellent student of Beacon.”

Chapter Text

I was in that infirmary for two days before the boredom really set in. White sheets, white walls, hardly any passers by, and the doctor wasn’t much of a talker- it all added up to a miserable time. I’d have been crawling up the walls if it weren’t for all the books Oobleck had stacked up at my bedside- it was dry stuff, but reading through these bizarre histories passed the time well enough. Left me with a lot of questions, though- with such endless hordes of dangerous creatures around, the Grimm as they were called, I couldn’t wrap my head around so many of the kingdoms going without any proper armies. Of the four, it looked like only Atlas had anything like a proper military- Vacuo was a close second with a well armed citizenry ready to be called up as a militia, while Vale and Mistral relied on tiny groups of huntsmen to cull the Grimm and act as some kind of specialist police force- a lot like the desert rangers, before they folded into the NCR military. The books said it was some kind of political move, getting rid of their big armies to try and avoid a repeat of the Great War and Faunus Rights Rebellion, but I couldn’t see the logic; without the deterrence, I couldn’t see why Atlas wouldn’t just roll over the other kingdoms at it’s convenience.

Vance stopped by to visit for a few hours each day, keeping up the good cop routine; I was bored enough to humour him, pretend I trusted him enough for some entertaining conversation.

“Isn’t it naive to take it on trust that Atlas won’t ever want to expand? You said their island- Solitas?- You said that the place was all ice and snow, so why wouldn’t they make a play to take the northern chunk of Vale?”

Vance sighed, rubbing at his eyelids. “I’m not the guy you want to talk politics with, kid, but I think I can explain. Atlas trades a whole lot with Vale, food for dust, and the academies are closely integrated- the negativity from starting a war like that would attract hordes of Grimm, and unite the other three kingdoms against whoever lit the fuse on that keg of dust.”

“Mutually assured destruction?” The idea had some merit- if the NCR’s Brahmin Barons were heavily invested into the Legion, the Mojave campaign would probably have been strangled in the cradle instead of kept on life support. The sort of relationship which worked until someone figured out a way to profit more from war than peace, but the Grimm made for a decently heavy-duty deterrent if they were as dangerous as the books seemed to say. Roving packs of deathclaws which were attracted to negativity (whatever that meant) would have slowed down any proper fighting, until someone figured out how to bait them into enemy camps or settlements- I could imagine Inculta taking ruthless advantage of a thing like that.

“Folks have tried using the Grimm. Never works out, and the evil bastards who try it usually end up getting torn apart by beowolves.” There was a little note of grim satisfaction as Vance mentioned that last part, trying to use Grimm was obviously a touchy subject here, beyond the expected atrocities of war. “I wouldn’t worry about a thing like that, kid- the kingdoms have been at peace for decades, and that ain’t likely to change any time soon. The only thing we have to worry about is Grimm, and huntsmen are more than enough for that.”

“Because of Aura, right? The books I read mentioned that most people don’t have any, just huntsmen and elite soldiers.” I was still trying to wrap my head around what exactly Aura was, some secret technology or armour judging by how few people had it- something like the implants Doc Usanagi would sell.

“Aura is it’s own beast, son- useful, but it attracts Grimm like no-one’s business. Awaken too many people in the same place, and it’s a matter of when they get swarmed by Grimm, not if. It’s why we’ve gotta be careful about sharing it- aura can stop you from ever living a normal life.” There was a sadness to Vance as he said that, one which he quickly covered up with a false smile- I’d have assumed limiting access to Aura was more about keeping power in the right hands, making sure any rebellious civilians couldn’t stand up to state troops, but it felt like a bad idea to share that thought. Most of our conversations went that way- just talking for the sake of talking, trying to make sense of my books and figure out the... context of region, for lack of a better word.

The more I read, and the more I talked through things with Vance, the worse I felt about the situation I was in. An uneasy gut feeling which just kept growing, like something fundamental was all wrong. If what my captors said was true- and it’d be a lot of effort to forge so many books on my account- then this place was completely alien. They had no record of the Great War- my Great War, the nukes dropping and burning the old world away. The maps didn’t match any I’d seen before, and they insisted that there was nothing more beyond the edges of them. The only familiarity was the Grimm, not so different from the irradiated critters back home- but even then, they didn’t act like proper animals, more like storybook monsters than deathclaws or yao-guai.

All of that was trouble, but it was three days later, when they finally let me have some free rein to get out and about (with an escort, naturally) that things came to a head.

I wasn’t armed, of course, nor was I allowed to leave through the main gate- I could see the students scattered around throwing sidelong glances at me, keeping a subtle watch over me even as Vance made for a more obvious warden. They’d given me some new clothes, claiming that my outfit was beyond saving, fell apart when they washed it- a petty power play, making me wear what they gave me, but it could’ve been worse. At least these clothes were more practical than what the students were wearing, a long enough coat to keep the blowing sand out of my trousers and decently tough fabric- once I’d made good my escape, I’d probably get a good few years of wear out of these clothes.

“Bet you’re glad to be out of that place, eh kid?” Vance interrupted my thoughts, speaking cheerily as he led me towards the academy stables- apparently there were a fair few folks here who kept horses, since the roads weren’t worth using, so the goat was billeted there for the moment.

“Sure am,” I kept my air of nonchalance, even as I scanned the entrances and exits- the front gate was a major bottleneck to contend with, and I wouldn’t be able to get over the walls with the goat following me. It was like the Old Mormon Fort, except on a much bigger scale- meant there was more likely to be a traversable section of wall, if I could get the opportunity to properly check the perimeter without anyone looking over my shoulder.

The stable was a squat stone building, built up against the inside of the wall by the gate. Made sense if people would be riding in and out of the academy. Inside was truly bizarre- four horses, all in immaculate condition, bright-eyes and sleek fur and no more than the usual number of limbs. It lined up with all I’d read- never any mention of mutation or radiation, no variance in the descriptions to account for missing limbs or conjoined twins. Made my goat feel a little less special, if I’m being honest.

The beastie in question lightly butted against my hip as I hunkered down with a little handful of grub for it; little pellets, they didn’t taste so good but the goat hoovered them up from my palm with pleased little bleats.

I spent some time with the animal, feeding it and running a brush through it’s fur under the watchful eye of the stablemaster, a hatchet-faced woman with one eye and steel-grey hair- she seemed peeved about having a goat in her stables, but softened slightly after giving me some advice and watching me take care of the creature.

“She seems attached to you,” she finally admitted. “That goat’s been a nightmare for all the stablehands, but here she is just eating out of your hand. What’s her name?”

I hesitated, the question hadn’t occurred to me at all. “Goat?”

“You’ve named your goat… Goat?”

“Sure have!” I affected confidence; it was the first thing which had sprung to mind, but enough confidence can sell anything at all. “Seems fitting, don’t it?”

A telling pause, as the stablemaster gave me an appraising look. “I… suppose so.”

The doubt was still clear on her face, but better to have her think that I was bad at naming things than that I’d not named the goat at all- that seemed like the sort of thing I’d be judged harshly on. Fortunately, Goat seemed happy enough with my presence, so the stablemaster left me to it, tending to the other animals. I might’ve made a break for it, but there was no way I’d be able to smuggle Goat past her, not to mention Vance hanging around unobtrusively by the doorway; instead, I just took the opportunity to relax a tad, mucking out Goat’s stall, refilling her hay net and enjoying the illusion of privacy.

Our next stop was a surprise- Vance looked me over with an odd look on his face, not quite a smile- conflicted, almost. “You look like a proper little huntsman in those duds- want to head over to the firing range? It should be free right now, I reckon- we can pick up that shotgun of yours from the armoury, put a few rounds down the range.”

I raised an eyebrow- that seemed like an odd amount of trust to put in me, all things considered, but I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at the opportunity to see the state of their weaponry. “Sure, could be fun- I’ve probably got pretty rusty these last few days.”

The armoury was about as well defended as you’d expect- deep into the academy, so you’d have to make it through a maze of stone corridors to even approach the door, with a computer lock- smallest terminal I’d ever seen, just a numerical keypad and tiny display bolted onto the wall waiting for a password instead of the reassuringly chunky Robco terminals I was familiar with. The display seemed worthless, too small to read anything off it and not something you’d want to display the passcode as you punched it in, more vestigial than anything else by my guess.

Inside wasn’t much like any armoury I’d ever seen before; where there’d usually be a quartermaster, rows of racks for standard issue guns, ammo boxes, armoured vests and all the other miscellany you’d need to equip an army. This was more like the Goodsprings schoolhouse or the space for personal effects in some of the vaults I’d seen, lines of individual lockers rather than any communal storage- I didn’t have the opportunity to check them, not with Vance watching, but it seemed safe to assume the combination locks on the doors weren’t just for show. There were a few folks hanging around, chattering as they stowed or retrieved their gear, and I couldn’t help but gawp at the bizarre array of implements on show- barely any commonalities between their weapons, I saw a tow-headed faunus with a bladed bow trying and failing to chat up a purple-haired boy who was cleaning out a ridiculously lengthened musket. Practicality didn’t really seem to be a limitation here, compared to personal whim and a strange fascination with bolting the biggest blades possible onto guns, or mashing the biggest calibre of gun possible into swords and axes.

He led me to the far corner of the room- locker six, which seemed like someone was having a little joke- and cracked it open, shielding the combination from my sight as he fiddled with the lock. Didn’t trust me that far, which I found hard to begrudge him- I settled for scanning the area, trying to make a decent map of the sightlines and

All of my tools seemed to be present and correct in the locker- my shotgun and pistol, the cosmic knife from the Madre carefully clamped to the side with a bit of paper warning ‘EXTREMELY SHARP- DO NOT HANDLE WITHOUT AURA’, and little boxes full of my ammo- a few shells and bullets missing, I could tell at a glance, but there was more there than I’d expected. They even left my gold bar mostly intact- there were tool marks where someone had scraped a few flakes off of one end, but not nearly enough to raise a stink about.

“Lot of different shells you got here… no dust, though?”

“Nah,” I admitted, leaning in to collect a few slugs from the bottom of the locker- buckshot wasn’t my preference for target shooting, and putting magnum rounds through it willy-nilly would definitely cause jams down the line. “Got slugs, buckshot, and a few over-pressured rounds I put together myself- bursts the casings something fierce, but it’ll punch through thicker armour and hides…”

Vance gave a little smile, at home talking shop. “That’s why I like the spear- gotta have some stopping power to deal with the Grimm, eh?” He paused, before tucking my shotgun over one shoulder and swinging the locker shut again. “That gun good enough to crack an Ursa’s bone plate?”

An Ursa- I’d read about them, seemed like a species of Yao-gui that had spread all across the continents. “Put enough lead down the line, sure it will. No guarantees, of course.”

That got a chuckle. “There never are, kid… Shooting range is this way.”

I followed obediently, weighing things up- the situation was weird, a hand of trust being outstretched for some reason. Probably a test, see if I was dumb enough to take the first chance to run for it. Vance wasn’t visibly armed, except for my gun, but he was big and tough enough to have me flat on my back before I’d be able to get the gun loaded, and that’s assuming I’d be able to get the damned thing off him in the first place. Thin odds to go all-in on, so I kept pace with him, keeping up the appearance of compliance for now- better to wait until I had a better hand to play.

I’d seen the range before, briefly, during my short-lived run in the courtyard- targets were lined up against the perimeter wall, with a few layers of sandbags for extra fortification; not quite high enough to make for a foothold to climb over the walls and out, unfortunately. Big targets, cut into the shape of snarling black wolfmen and bears- Beowolves and Ursa, in the local lingo- stood firm, riddled with holes ranging from little pistol-calibre shots all the way up to what looked like the scorches and impact crater from a small explosion. That particular target had at least been dragged off to the side for replacement- looked like I was arriving shortly after some heavy use, before whoever they had for maintenance rolled in to replace the damaged pieces. The range wasn’t too long, a few hundred feet- didn’t seem great for testing your aim, more for getting used to the feel of your weapon and seeing how effective it was at slinging lead down the field.

It was only once we reached the firing line that Vance saw fit to give me my gun back, and even then he made me wait through a brief lecture.

“Rules of the range, everyone gets a refresher first time through. You always treat your gun as if it’s loaded, you don’t aim it at anything you don’t want to put a bullet into, and you keep track of what’s behind your target. Finger off the trigger and safety on if you’re not firing.”

“Sure, and remember that the safety’s gonna fail at the worst possible moment,” I cut in- none of this was news, anyone who was serious about surviving knew how to avoid putting bullets into themselves or their mates. Vance huffed a little in irritation- might’ve been better to avoid any attitude, but I wasn’t happy about being talked down to like a child with their first plinking rifle. “Don’t worry old-timer, I’ll keep the barrel downrange.”

True to my words, I took care to keep the weapon under control as I filled the magazine with buckshot, tucking the stock into my shoulder and racking the slide before sending my first round down the field, punching a small hole into the snarling wolf’s left hip.

“Up and left,” Vance commented, and I silently adjusted my aim for the next shot- I was rusty, and it’d been a while since I’d used standard-issue ammo instead of anything I’d adjusted for myself. Excuses aside, when I lined up my sights the second time, pulling a little further up and leftwards, I hit my mark, neatly punching a hole through the head of the target, then again, and a third time, the report of the gun filling my ears, the cordite smoke filling my lungs, and a muted throbbing filling my ribcage at the recoil. Fourth round, I hit centre mass, and as I racked up the last shell the spent casing caught in the loading gate.

“Misfire!” I called out, force of habit from the last firing range I was at, as I flipped the safety on and gave the gun a love-tap to send the spent shell skittering out before easing the slide back into place, racking it to make sure the feed was clear and catching the last shell as it popped free. “Bloody ejector…”

I’d salvaged that piece from an old riot shotgun, figured since it wasn’t rusty it was probably gonna be solid enough for a stop gap- that had been a while ago, and a few minor malfunctions aside it served well enough, I’d just have to keep my eyes open for another replacement when the opportunity arose. Vance seemed nonplussed at the whole display.

“That happen often?” He finally asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Seemed like you have more practice than most clearing jams…”

I shrugged. “Happens every now and then, that’s just the way of things, isn’t it? I’ll have to give it some attention, a few replacement parts should set it firing straight for a good long while yet. It’s no big problem, easy to work around under normal conditions.”

“That pistol you had in your coat?”

“Sure, having a spare’s one way to deal with a jam.” I raised an eyebrow. “What, you just carry one gun?”

That got a smile out of Vance. “You’ve seen my weapon- a half-pike with a high caliber revolver cylinder and dust reservoir built into the haft, all the gun I need and a backup for when anything gets in close enough to stab.” He practically vibrated with pride over his weapon- seemed like an over-complicated way of describing a rifle and bayonet to me, but I wasn’t about to try bursting his bubble.

“Sounds… handy?” I gave him an uncertain smile. “Custom job?”

“I made it myself! It’s the standard for combat schools, didn’t you put yours together?” I frowned, not wanting to give myself away as even more of an outsider but unwilling to bluff my way through- not knowing how much of a thing this was, I didn’t want to start lying unnecessarily.

I glanced down at my shotgun. “No, actually, it was a gift, or payment for services rendered I guess? All I’ve done is make the shells for it, and light maintenance- replaced the slide when it cracked, resecured the stock, and put in a few new springs- you know, the trigger, magazine, firing pin, and it’s gone through three separate ejectors so far…”

“But apart from that, it’s the same old gun?” There was a sense of levity in Vance’s voice, as if he was telling some little joke I wasn’t privy to.

“More or less, yes.” I racked the slide again to make sure there was nothing in the magazine, checked the safety, and returned my weapon to Vance’s custody- he accepted it, keeping the barrel pointed to the ground as he gripped around the middle, carrying it more like a baton or iron bar than a gun. “So, do you have anything else planned for this excursion, or am I gonna be getting locked back up in that hospital room?”

He frowned at the sourness in my voice. “You know it’s not like that, kid… Just that we can’t send you out onto the streets, especially with your whole… situation.”

“What situation?”

“Someone shot you in the head, kid!” His raised voice attracted more than it’s share of interested glances, and he hushed himself rather than keep attracting an audience. “I’m not going to… We can’t just ignore that, as huntsmen. We’re not trying to lock you up, we’re trying to keep you safe, and get to the bottom of what exactly is going on!”

My response died on my tongue- I knew it had been getting late, but night falls deceptively fast out in the desert, and between that and the electric lights flooding the academy courtyard I hadn’t noticed the moon rising. It was the first time I’d been awake and outside at night, and as I looked up towards Vance, I couldn’t help but fix my eyes on the moon.

There’s nothing people won’t fight over- food, water, scraps of irradiated land or badly-drawn symbols daubed onto tattered cloth. From what I read, that’s what broke the world last time- the Old World Flag and the Reds launching their greatest weapons against each other, utterly destroying the world they were fighting over. I don’t doubt they would’ve nuked the moon if they thought there was anyone there to kill, but they hadn’t.

Which was why I was so dumbstruck looking at the sky, seeing the shattered moon hanging in the night sky.

***

“So he went back willingly, without any further complaints or escape attempts?”

“Quiet as a lamb,” Vance agreed, facing Doctor Oobleck with a troubled expression. “Seemed like he was all ready to start a row, but then he just stared at the sky, clammed up, and let me take him back to the infirmary. Seemed like there was something on his mind.”

Oobleck took a sip of his coffee, taking a moment to think. “That’s quite irregular, certainly; there must be a reason to it, but I can’t place it. Perhaps a fear of the dark, or of the night?” He frowned at that. “This may be related to-”

Vance cut him off with a raised hand, voice resigned. “Something I’m not read in on, I understand.”
“I must apologise- I am aware that these holes in your knowledge are a constant irritant, and if it were my decision I’d reveal all… but there is no benefit to talking about might-have-beens.” He abruptly changed the subject, and Vance was more than happy to let it go. “Did you get the footage of his weapon in use?”

“Of course- I think I could’ve told him that’s what the trip to the range was for, no need for any skulduggery.” Despite his reservations, Vance was happy to turn his scroll around, showing in crystal-clear detail as the boy fired a shot, racked the slide, and fired again. “It’s as you suggested- the black powder acts as an alternative to traditional dust propellents, similar to fire dust in cartridges. Louder gunshots, and more smoke from each shot, but maybe more powerful? He was firing fairly hefty slugs from that little cannon, you’ve seen the size of them…”

Oobleck nodded- they’d taken apart some of the shells, finding that there was a fair amount more metal and less propellant than they’d have expected. “So we can discard the hypothesis that the lack of propellant points towards a shorter-range, lower stopping power round- given the boy’s performance against the taijutsu upon our first meeting this lines up, but it’s nonetheless gratifying to have confirmation with video evidence.” Oobleck stood then, draining his mug of coffee. “Have you given any more thought to my offer? You have more of a rapport with the boy than I do, and your credentials are more than sufficient for a junior role among Beacon’s staff.”

Vance shook his head. “You know I would, doc, but I’ve got family back here, and I can’t exactly up sticks and leave on such short notice. You’re certain you want to bring Courier back to Vale with you?”

“It’s not a question of what I want- rather, it’s related to the needs of my employer. Ozpin has taken a personal interest, and I trust in his judgement on this matter.”

Vance sighed. “How long?”

“One week, to finalize the details of my research paper.” Oobleck raised a map on his scroll. “I shall drive us to Coquina, and from there we can travel by rail to Vale and by bullhead to the academy. The journey should take three days, giving us ample time to settle things before the new students arrive and the teaching term begins.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out, Doc. Keep me updated?”

“I will of course inform you of everything regarding the investigation which you can be read in on-”

Once again, Vance interrupted; Oobleck remembered when they’d first met, and he was too overawed by the reputation of a Beacon professor to speak up at all, and couldn’t bring himself to feel any real irritation at the change.

“It’s not about that- I just want to know if the kid fits into Beacon at all. He ain’t exactly like the usual new recruits.”

“Students, not recruits,” Oobleck corrected him. “We’re not military. And yes, of course I shall keep you updated- if young Courier is enrolled into the academy, he’ll be provided with a Scroll, and we can open lines of communication between the two of you.”

Chapter Text

“When did it happen??”

Dr Oobleck blinked at me, nonplussed. It was his usual early morning visit, bringing new books and taking back the ones I’d finished. “When did… what happen?” he asked, choosing his words carefully.

“The moon!” I almost exploded, hands shaking slightly. It was a step too far- I’d been doing my best to take things in stride, bide my time and wait for an opening, but now I was beginning to realise exactly how far out of my depth I was.

“Nothing happened to the moon,” Oobleck frowned. “It’s just the same as it’s always been.”

I was tempted to take that at face value, assume what I’d seen was some kind of stress-induced hallucination, or that they’d been slipping some kind of chems into my food, but it didn’t line up- I’d taken my share of psychedelics, and they’d never left me seeing everything clearly except for one, static thing.

“It was shattered, in pieces!” I insisted, staring into his eyes; I don’t know what I was hoping for, but I didn’t get it.

“Yes?”

He spoke like I was slow, or just plain ignorant, and I took a deep breath, trying to contain the embers of irritation. “So the moon’s been in pieces for as long as you can remember?”

“For as long as anyone can remember- are you feeling quite well?”

“Perfectly well,” I said firmly, trying to salvage the situation- if the moon was a widely known factor, my ignorance of it showed weakness I couldn’t afford. If they thought I was crazy, they’d have no further use for me, and that was a short road ending in a shallow grave. “So what’ve you got for me today? Just finished ‘Grimm Survival for the Auraless’ and ‘An Idiot’s Guide to Dust’.”

I passed over the two books in question- both were pretty thin, not the most detailed and more concerned with what you shouldn’t do than what you could do. ‘If you don’t have aura, you shouldn’t ever go where Grimm are in the wild, and if they attack your village you shouldn’t take matters into your own hands, trust in your local Huntsmen and Huntresses’- reminded me of the places in the NCR where they’d tried disarming the populace, since the army and sheriffs could deal with any raiders or nasty critters which rolled into town. Bad idea there, bad idea here- people have to be able to look out for themselves, or it’s just a matter of time before someone rolls over them.

“Nothing more for you today, and I’m afraid I will need you to return all the reading material you’ve borrowed to the Shade academy library.”

I’d almost got used to the routine, dull as it was, so the change set the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight. Could be trouble, or opportunity; more likely both. Still, I forced myself to remain casual as I spoke; best to seem compliant until you’re ready to play your hand, then go all in when the bastards aren’t expecting it. “Okay, I guess- but what gives? I’m not gonna be able to return them myself or something?”

“My employer has an interest in speaking with you, and as such you’re invited to stay at beacon Academy until these meetings have come to a satisfactory conclusion.”

The subtext was clear, this wasn’t the sort of invitation which I’d be allowed to refuse. Still, I gave it a try. “That’s alright, Doctor. I was here to recover from my injuries, and now that I’m feeling well I’ll just be on my way!”

He frowned, as if he was personally insulted by the attempt. “Need I remind you of your situation? You are not a citizen of any of the kingdoms, the first things you did in the city were to try and buy alcohol with counterfeit currency, fire a shotgun in a commercial district, and attempt to infiltrate Shade Academy.”

“The gates were open!” I protested, but Oobleck pressed on without acknowledging it.

“Most people in your position would be imprisoned without question; instead, you’ve been given medical aid and a relatively free hand, on the basis of both Mr Whittle and my own recommendation for clemency. You owe us both, and this is how you will be repaying that debt.”

It was a crock, of course. I’d seen it in the NCR; wave a pack of trumped up or exaggerated charges at someone, then offer a deal that’d make all those threats go away. Usually selling land to the nearest brahmin baron for pennies on the dollar, helping the cops with a sting, or doing some other job for whoever felt like throwing their political weight around. But recognising blackmail doesn’t help much when the power’s all in the other bastard’s hands.

“I presume my things are already packed away, then?” I asked, weighing up my leverage. “I’d hate to have to complain to Vance about you robbing me blind, after all.”

It was a small leap of faith. As far as the good cop, bad cop routine had gone, they both seemed to be trying to pretend to be on the side of the angels, but something about Vance’s attitude made me suspect that he was a touch more genuine about it than the good doctor. The sort who’d kick up a fuss about poor treatment of prisoners; that might’ve been part of why they wanted me away from here, since a huntsman’s word was apparently worth a lot in these parts. It seemed to hit home, at least.

“Of course,” the doctor’s voice barely betrayed his irritation, but it was there. “I cannot promise you uninterrupted access to your effects, however, and given that your weapons are not registered and you do not have a valid hunter’s license you will not be permitted to handle them unsupervised.”

I silently seethed at that last jab- not that it was unexpected, but it stung nonetheless, the confirmation of my powerlessness here. That vulnerability bit like a steel collar around my neck, but I kept my composure as best as I could. “Understood. So, I’m guessing you’re telling me now because we’re due to move soon?”

“Indeed.” It made sense, not giving me time to make a plan or scout anything out before the transfer. “You’ll be accompanying me by road and train to Vale, and from there to Beacon Academy. From there Headmaster Ozpin wishes to interview you, and as such suitable quarters have been arranged.”

I translated that one in my head: more interrogations, and a cell to wait for them in. And there I was hoping for at least a few days to try and wrap my head around the shattered moon; trouble always does come in twos, and I was far from prepared to take advantage.

Prisoner transfers are a double-edged sword; both captive and captor know it’s when security will be at it’s most vulnerable. Means everyone’s that bit more tense, looking for any tells or opportunities to make a move. Not to say I wasn’t looking for the chance to make a move, but it didn’t seem likely to come easy. The first leg of the journey was by car, the same kind of buggy the 80s would use when they ventured away from their highways; better maintained, but the same skeletal construction, big tyres and heavy spring suspension. They’d even built a cage into the back, and for a moment I thought it was for me- I was already tensed and ready to make a fight of it when they led Goat out and ramped her up into the cage. She seemed pretty stressed about it, bleating angrily until I patted her down and mollified her with a handful of food pellets. Making a run of it then would’ve just got me caught out in the city, same as last time; better to get clear out in the desert, or lull the doctor into a sense of security and make a break for it during a change-over.

Vance was there to see me off, still acting as if they had my best interests at heart. “Remember kid, you’ve got some real potential; you’ve just gotta work with Ozpin, and he’ll see you right.”

“Ain’t like I have any choice,” I grumbled, but my attitude bounced clear off his perpetual layer of good cheer and unshakeable trust in the other huntsmen. Even when Oobleck slapped a set of cuffs onto my wrist, chaining me to the frame of the car, Vance didn’t react much, simply agreeing that it was all for the best. Blind faith is a hell of a hell of a drug, I guess.

The doctor drove fast out of the city, into the deserts of Vacuo proper, keeping his eyes on the road and his mouth shut. That might’ve suited me just fine, but I couldn’t resist the urge to fill the silence, pitching my voice above the quiet whirr of the engine. “Your boy Vance seems convinced I’d be getting a place at Vale’s academy- seems unlikely to me, though.”

“You’d be correct,” the doctor admitted, his eyes still fixed on the road- I took the opportunity to start flexing the chain on my cuffs, looking for a weak link while his attention was distracted. “Mr Whittle has given you a glowing recommendation on the basis of your potential, but it takes more than that to be a huntsman, and I do not believe you have the proper attitude.”

That set me frowning- I couldn’t necessarily disagree with him, from all I’d seen huntsmen were a strange blend of police, soldiers and hunters responsible for culling the nastier creatures of the wasteland, and I’d never really had any interest in government work. “Seems cold to leave him thinking otherwise though- don’t know if I’d have the cojones to lie straight to my buddy’s face like that.”

“I’m not responsible for Mr Whittle’s misapprehensions,” Doctor Oobleck spoke tersely, a definite edge to his voice. “He lacks certain context, and thus has come to his own conclusion.”

“What context??”

Oobleck glanced over at me, before returning his attention to the road; I briefly paused in testing my bonds, but he didn’t seem much concerned. “If you know, you know.”

On that unusually brief note, he lapsed back into his silent driving, and I returned to my work on the cuffs. The chain was clean, well-forged, no weld marks where the loops had been closed or repaired, but I kept at it, flexing the links- metal fatigue is a real son of a bitch, and it gave me something to focus on aside from the passing desert. There’s something to be said for a car or buggy if you’re trying to get somewhere fast, and you aren’t so worried about ambushes or the cost of running the machine, but it makes for a much duller experience than walking or tagging along with a proper caravan. Everything passes by too fast, there’s no chance to follow up on interesting side-roads or do some light prospecting on the side if you spot a handy pre-war ruin (though it didn’t seem like there were any such ruins here).

It gave me time to think, too. Everything I’d seen didn’t square up to my first instinct, that I’d been moved somewhere else- the moon was the biggest thing, of course, but in everything I’d read there was no mention of the NCR or the Legion, the lack of radiation or pre-war ruins, it all seemed like it led to something bigger. There must’ve been another war, bigger than the big one- no other good explanation for what happened to the moon. Might also explain the different coastlines, if it was destructive enough or long enough ago- underground detonations could turn a fertile plain into a windswept canyon, so why couldn’t it throw up islands or carve out bays in the same way? Give it a long enough time, and the rads would fade, the remnants of the old world would crumble… a clean slate, ready to be rebuilt.

Of course, that would be hundreds of years at least, maybe thousands, far longer than anyone could make it going the long way. I’d heard rumours that the Mr House who’d taken over the strip was a pre-war survivor, like a ghoul or robobrain or something, but I’d figured that was just some new warlord taking advantage of an old name for legitimacy, Caesar writ small. Now though? Here I was, sat in the far, far future after a mishap with old-world tech- maybe the same sort of thing which House could’ve used to skip past the first great war and the chaos that came in it’s wake, to take over Vegas when things calmed down?

It seemed unbelievable, but the more I ruminated on it the more convinced I became- and hey, an unbelievable situation kind of allows for an unbelievable explanation. Not that I’d be sharing my conclusions with Oobleck, asshole that he was, but it was a comfort to have a decent theory.

By the time we pulled into our destination, a one-horse railway town a little smaller and a lot more fortified than Goodsprings. Seemed like some railway barons or government had got their fingerprints all over the place a while ago, all sorts of official looking buildings dotted around the railyard- it’s not too tricky to spot a courthouse or prison from the outside, and they stood out even more surrounded by the little bungalows and shacks which made up the rest of the town. A little sign by the gate pointed out the only things of interest: the railway ahead, Vacuo and Shade Academy a hundred odd miles to the west, and another academy ten miles out to the north.

“So, you gonna be dumping me in lockup for the night?” I asked, a vague hope- if that was the plan, it’d likely be my best chance to try something.

“No need,” he said, casually dashing my hopes as he unlatched the cuffs from the car and locked my hands behind my back. “We’ll be taking the train directly, no need for any delays.”

Amateurs sometimes cuff you in front- handy for a garrotte, or if you want to smash someone over the head with the hunk of metal at the end of your arms, but behind the back complicated things a fair bit. Not that I’d expected that sort of mistake here, but people get sloppy more often than you’d think. There was one advantage, though- keeping it behind my back let me keep working at the chain without it being too obvious.

“Hey, be careful with that!” I called out as the railway porters unstrapped Goat’s cage from the back of the buggy; he spat to one side, but took more care at a glare from Oobleck. For her part, Goat didn’t seem at all appeased, throwing her weight around and bleating out complaints with every motion even as they loaded the cage onto a handcart. I watched as they stacked up the crate with my things next to her, wheeling them to a luggage compartment- there was a slight pang as I lost sight of it all, but I swallowed it down. At least I knew which carriage it was in, if it came to that.

Our destination was further up the train, close to the engine- a little enclosed cabin, two bench seats, a table, and a bar under the window which the doc cuffed me to. Didn’t seem like that was the intended use, more of a handy coincidence; I’d probably be able to break free with the right leverage and a little time, but definitely not with eyes on me, and Oobleck seemed content to sit across from me and keep a stern watch- he relaxed marginally once we were underway, but by then my options were far more limited. Jumping out of moving trains isn’t always as bad an idea as you’d think, but there’s a lot you have to consider- waiting until you’re coming up on a turn in the tracks, protecting your head, making sure you’re not about to jump right into a radscorpion den- knowing the terrain is vital, and I didn’t know a thing about what was coming up. Leaning my head against the window, I tried to see what was coming ahead, but the angle wasn’t great for that- at least seeming bored helped to relax Oobleck’s guard.

“So, give me a hint Doc. What’s your boss looking for?” I met his eyes. “Seems unusual to be dragging some kid you found in the desert across the country- what gives?”

Oobleck glanced around the little cabin, as if there was an eavesdropper perched up on the luggage racks. “It’s classified, I can’t talk about such things in detail in such a public space as this; however, I can confirm he has an interest in the nature of your upbringing. Others raised in similar circumstances have had… unsavoury connections.”

Does he know? The thought raced around my head- it was impossible, I myself had only just figured out that I’d somehow been catapulted from the distant past, but if they’d seen other people in the same boat it’d be an easy conclusion to come to. “My upbringing? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A young adult with combat training, no unlocked aura, no records of your existence and evidence of a… physically taxing childhood.” Oobleck was being oddly forthcoming- probably just trying to lay the groundwork for his boss, but if the information was good I didn’t much care for the reason it was being given.

“None of that seems like it’s worth classifying,” I said doubtfully. I’d handled more than my share of secrets, government and private, and it’d ended with me in a shallow grave with a nine millimetre lesson in what happens when you go into things blind. “There’s more to all this.”

Oobleck nodded, his fingers steepled in front of him. “There is indeed- but that goes beyond the realms of what I am willing to discuss in such a public space.” He gave me an appraising look, glasses catching the lights of the train. “Perhaps if we’d had more conversations like this before, those restraints would not be necessary.”

I frowned down at the cuffs. “They aren’t necessary at all,” I lied. “Where am I gonna run to? I’ve got nobody to turn to, here…”

That got a frown from the green haired man. “I’m sorry that you feel that way. Rest assured that we do have the greater good in mind at all times- including your own good, whether you believe that or not.”

“And yet I’m being cuffed and taken to a strange place,” I noted drily. “Hard to believe all that’s for my benefit.”

“Not without good cause,” Oobleck noted. “Your previous attempts to flee from custody, and your evasiveness regarding your past, have done little to endear you.”

“I told you, I have no idea how I ended up in that desert!”

“You also claim to have come from the Town of Goodsprings, to have parents who are Vacuan goat farmers, and that you’ve fought monsters and ancient legionaries. Given the unbelievable nature of your claims, you must understand that we cannot take them on faith without doing our proper diligence and ensuring that you’re not a worse criminal than you seem on the face of it.”

I bristled at the dismissal, and the way he casually called me a criminal. Not that it wasn’t true, but being called a crook for such petty misunderstandings stung- even more when they’d treat me like a liar for it. After that, the journey passed in silence- we had lunch on the train, some kind of delicious stew, then another few hours before we arrived in Vale- first the kingdom of Vale, then shortly afterwards Vale city. Seemed to be tradition to name the capitals after the kingdoms, like if they’d decided to rename Flagstaff as Legionville.

It was odd seeing how the terrain changed as we travelled- first the familiar deserts of Vacuo, then a snaking pass through the mountains which would’ve made for a good place to escape, if jumping off the train there wouldn’t have sent me careening into a chasm or into a tunnel wall for most all of the journey. Finally, we made it through one last tunnel, into the greenest place I ever did see, even compared to the pines dotted around Jacobstown. It set my nerves jangling, claustrophobic without offering any security- anything at all could be hidden in those woods, and the first you’d see of it was when it pounced on you from behind. I kept my eyes peeled for any of the usual animals- cazadors, deathclaws or Yao Guai would usually cluster around railways, ready to scavenge roadkill or pick off the occasional unfortunate rail worker, but there was nothing much at all, not even the Grimm which were supposed to be endemic around these parts.

“Seems quiet,” I commented. “Ain’t these places meant to be heaving with those grimm y’all are so scared of?”

Oobleck frowned. “That’s… the land around these tracks is culled regularly, and the lack of long-term habitation limits the rate at which Grimm populations build. I’m surprised you didn’t have prior knowledge of that- are you not familiar with the habits of Grimm?”

That was some kind of probing question, he wasn’t even hiding that, but it wasn’t like I could convincingly play the expert. “Can’t say I am, never had much to do with them.”

The doctor gave me a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow at that, and the conversation petered out until we made it to the city. Vale was… alien is the best word. Like some completely unknown race had put down a brand new city, completely unlike anything from the wasteland, like Vacuo with all it’s oddities exaggerated. The streets were fastidiously clean, the shops had these huge glass frontages to show off their wares (all polished to a mirror shine), and even the awnings were dyed in bright colours, hardly faded at all by the sun and the elements. If I’d been on my own, I’d have gawked like a yokel, but the Doctor kept up a hurried pace, and the metal digging into my wrists behind my back kept me focused on my own, increasingly dire situation.

It was late in the evening, at least, and the streets were quiet. Less witnesses, less crowds to hem me in. I could see our destination in the far distance, a full castle built onto a hill a few miles out of town, and it set a deadline in my mind; if they got me in there, it’d take a miracle to escape, and I wasn’t pious or deluded enough to count on divine intervention.

I started talking, even as my eyes scanned the streets looking for any distraction or opportunity to break away. “So, we’re just leaving my things on the train? Someone’s gonna have to feed Goat, you know.”

Oobleck kept walking behind me, voice clear. “It’ll be taken care of; naturally, we have the means and expertise to take care of your pet no matter what happens. That said, I’m sure your co-operation will expedite matters quite considerably, with regards to your reunion…”

As he spoke, the usual spray of rapid-fire words, I kept working the cuffs. I’d have expected the chains to at least start to wear now, the constant grinding would’ve worn down the links on most cuffs the wasteland had to offer, but there was no real give there yet. I kept grinding away at it when the opportunity arose- even if I couldn’t see any results, it helped me to focus.

The opportunity I was looking for came halfway down the main street, not long after the airport hove into view. It was a big place, a pair of cargo vertibirds sat on cleared landing pads, a schedule pinned up along with ticket prices- looked like it was the only route between the town and the castle, unless you were to hike through the dense forest surrounding the place. That made for a kind of finish line- if I got into that vertibird, I was finished.

“So, you mentioned that there was some problem with my weapons being unlicensed? Only huntsmen are meant to carry weapons around the cities, that kind of thing?” I asked, slowing my pace a little as I zeroed in on my salvation.

“Indeed, that is… one of the many minor crimes you have committed,” Oobleck replied. “Please keep up the pace, it wouldn’t do to hold up the bullhead with your dawdling.”

“Lot of huntsmen around, then,” I said, nodding towards the collection of besuited men clustered around the mouth of an alleyway, clearly looking to avoid attention. Some sort of gang colours, like the New Reno families would use to mark themselves out as a cut above the usual pickpockets and petty muggers, except not so well thought out- these suits were pretty tight-cut, so it wasn’t so hard to see the weapons they were trying to conceal- looked like small stuff mostly, pistols, but one of them was trying and failing to hide a full sword down the back of his suit.

Oobleck gave an irritated grumble, seeing them. “The VPD really should have a better grip on things…” He pulled out his scroll, probably to call in some of his colleagues- too much to hope he’d go after them and let me slip away unopposed, but so it goes.

I took what I could get, sprinting directly towards the crooks I’d pointed out. Oobleck reacted predictable, coming after him, but the split-second head start gave me enough distance to barge into the nearest of the gangsters- he went down with a surprised yelp, his mates recoiling a little as they reached for blades and guns. Oobleck was close behind, which suited me just fine- if they’d had time to focus on me, I’d be looking like swiss cheese in seconds, but the enraged huntsman pursuing me made for a decent distraction. I ducked under one hastily swung blade, stumbling with my hands tied, and bounced painfully off the alley wall as I regained my balance and went dashing off.

Behind me, the sounds of a scuffle- I’d never seen Oobleck in a real fight, I was hoping he’d be a bit of a pushover, but judging by the sounds of panic behind me I was out of luck. I just kept running, cutting a right behind some dumpsters, a narrow street running behind all the shops we’d just passed. Got me further from the airport and the doctor both, which suited me just fine.

Less useful was the dead end I ran into, a blue wooden fence running across the alleyway- I’d have been over it in a few moments, if my hands were free, but as I jerked against my bonds the chain held firm. I swore under my breath, crouching to slip the chain underneath me and at least get my hands in front of me, ready to at least attempt the climb. I glanced back, just in time to see Oobleck loping down the alleyway, glancing down the side street, straight at me- and turning away, carrying on straight past. I blinked- there was no way he hadn’t seen me, there was nothing for me to hide behind even if I’d had the time to.

****

Neopolitan put a hand over her mouth, covering a smirk. It had seemed likely to be a dull, dreary day- petty crimes for a petty boss, knocking over dust stores like some common criminal, nothing like the excitement of real heists and proper fights. It was lucky she’d decided to watch the hired help for a while before revealing herself, enjoying their obliviousness; it meant she had a front row seat to the chaos of the huntsman and his prisoner.

Of course she could’ve taken on the huntsman, but it was infinitely more amusing to see Xiong’s goons being thrown around the alleyway like little ragdolls. As for the prisoner… it was barely an effort to throw the illusion of an empty road in front of him, and more interesting by far to throw a spanner into the works than let him be recaptured. She lightly gripped the handle of Hush- The stranger was oblivious, and it’s be no trouble at all to draw her blade and leave him to bleed out in the alleyway. After a moment’s calculation, she instead tapped him on the shoulder, easily ducking under the swinging handcuffs as he jerked back and tried to hit her.

More interesting by far to keep this one alive.

Chapter Text

I didn’t know what to make of my saviour- couldn’t even figure out what she’d done. Oobleck’d had me dead to rights, cornered, and he’d just turned and left. I’d read that some people had strange powers, ‘semblances’ they were called, but it had seemed like something limited to huntsmen. So either this strange woman was a huntsman, or the books I’d read gave a warped view of things; given where those books came from, probably the second one.

Not that it stopped me from taking a swing at her- I don’t respond well to people sneaking up on me in a tense situation, just ask Malcolm Holmes. She ducked under the flailing cuffs easily, with an amused little grin which set my teeth on edge, and swatted me lightly over the head with an umbrella.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I hissed, keeping my voice down for fear of Oobleck lurking nearby. “Who are you? And what just happened, why didn’t that bastard see me?”

She covered her mouth, giggling silently, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was a joke at my expense. Sometimes folks just rub you the wrong way, instantly; not that first impressions are the most reliable, but it sets the tone. I took a few moments, and a couple of deep breaths, to centre myself again.

“So, you don’t talk? Alright, that’s fine… but we’re gonna have to communicate, right?”

She narrowed her eyes at that, and for a moment I thought I’d gotten the wrong end of the stick, that she was about to speak up and tear me a new one for the assumption. Then the moment passed, and she merely tilted her head with an odd little smirk, turned and strode off.

Lucky she was a touch shorter than me, so her stride wasn’t so hard to keep pace with; I followed, for lack of any real alternative. My hands were still cuffed, my gold and gear and goat were all somewhere between the train station and the academy, and the last time I’d headed out on my own in a strange town it hadn’t gone so well for me. Wasn’t like she was doing anything to stop me from following, besides.

Her route led back past the groaning, scattered bodies of the mafioso wannabes- I stuck close, and the cops who’d finally arrived to clean up the mess didn’t pay us any mind. Oobleck wasn’t there, probably still trying to track me down; I’d’ve figured that the cops would’ve wanted to speak with him, but it seemed like this was all pretty routine. Brawling in the streets, leaving the local law to clean up the mess… seemed like the huntsmen acted a lot like the desert rangers back before they got absorbed by the NCR. Before my time, but from all I’d heard they’d roll into towns, kill off any raiders who showed their faces, then move on while the locals tried to rebuild.

She didn’t pay them any mind, so neither did I- cops didn’t pay any mind even with my hands cuffed, and nobody’s that incompetent, so whatever mojo this woman was working still held out. I stayed close, shadowing her.

“So where are we going?” I finally asked, glancing around to make absolutely certain that there was nobody in earshot- I wasn’t exactly eager to test the limits of whatever this was.

She turned to look at me, tilted her head with a little grin, and kept right on walking. I never thought I’d be wishing for Christine’s communication style, but at least she was trying to make herself understood; this new companion seemed to delight in remaining as enigmatic as possible.

“Why’d you-” I stopped myself, realizing there was no real point in asking questions. “Can you at least help me with these cuffs? They’re a sight tougher than the ones I’m used to…”
Another odd, silent giggle, and then a blade flashed right in front of my face- fast, I hadn’t even seen her draw it, barely had time to get my hands up and the chain of my cuffs ready to block the sudden attack. Would’ve expected it to get deflected, entangled in the chain at best, but it cut straight through like a cosmic knife through bone, links of the chain flying free like shrapnel.
th
I fell back, out of reach of that blade, but she didn’t follow up, just smirked at my reaction as she sheathed the weapon back in her umbrella. She’d had me dead to rights, a step and a lunge away from perforating my throat, and she knew I knew it. Triumphant little gleam in her eyes at my reaction, like a kid who’d just pulled off some innocent little prank. I took a breath, still eyeing her cautiously, but she just turned and carried on her merry way, strolling into some local store- looked like jewellery at first, until I made the connection with the books I’d read- a dust store.

Of course, by the time I’d made that connection things were going wrong- some kind of alarm was blaring, and the multicoloured woman was skipping out of the store with a sack full of clinking glass vials slung over her shoulder- one she tossed at me on the way past.

From everything I’d read about dust, that was an absolutely lunatic thing to do- the stuff was more volatile than a deathclaw hopped up on psycho, about as prone to explode as a powder ganger’s backpack. I threw myself forward to catch the thing, before the vials could shatter on the pavement, just barely keeping my grip.

“What the hell? Why’d you do a thing like that??”

Of course, she didn’t say anything, just strode off again, moving fast, a little bit of a skip in her step. And there I was, a sack of stolen goods in my hands, an alarm blaring behind me… I swore under my breath as I hurried after her. Felt like a fit-up, but I was just worried about making through the day without being chained up or locked away again.

Aside from the brief rush away from the shop she’d robbed, the woman took a meandering path through the streets, seemingly unconcerned with the amount of eyes in the city. She even paused to tap something into her scroll, before pushing her way into a big old warehouse. I’d not been keeping the best track of the city, too used to having my pip-boy do the mapping for me, but we’d followed some kind of river or canal to an industrial district, similar to the factories the NCR had churning out new guns and refurbishing old engines- it was the most familiar thing I’d seen since the desert, rust-spattered metal shutters and dull brick walls. Nothing for it but to head inside- it was a relief to have a little cover from all the people passing by in the streets, even this quiet industrial neighbourhood had plenty of folks passing by in the evening.

Inside, the warehouse was… odd. You wouldn’t think the way people stack boxes would change much, but it had- metal crates, far bigger than anyone could move by hand, even with carts or pulleys, stacked one on top of another like a behemoth playing with building blocks. There were loading doors that matched the size of them, looking like something the Crimson Caravan company would use on their brahmin pens. I even spotted a machine settled in the corner, a forklift in fine condition; I’d heard rumours that the NCR had salvaged a few of them back in Shady Sands, but they were earmarked for agricultural use, serving the Brahmin barons and water reserves. This one was just sat there, in one of dozens of warehouses, like a common convenience!

A readhead in a fancy jacket stood in front of a map of the city, scroll clamped to his ear- he stood upright at the sound of the door, turning on his heel to face us.

“Neo, kid, I was wondering when you’d show your face! Junior’s nagging my ear off about those mooks he rented out to me getting themselves pinched, what happened?” He spoke like a carnival barker, cheaply theatrical with a big old grin. That dropped when he saw me- a flash of worry across his face, then a moment’s calculation, then sheer exasperation. “Neo, have you been busy picking up strays while Xiong’s boys were out getting themselves caught?”

She made a dismissive gesture with her hands, prompting an irritated grumble from the redhead. He pointed his cane at me, a vaguely threatening gesture. “Put the bag down, and get over here. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

I wasn’t exactly inclined to do that, the folks here seemed more dangerous within arms reach than at a safe distance, but I wasn’t looking to burn bridges just yet- they were a pair of crooks, but I’d trust your average criminal over the local government here. I shrugged, lowering the bag to the ground and keeping my distance. “You’re right, I don’t know what y’all are doing here, but I guess I’m in it now, so let’s talk.” I glanced around; there were just the three of us. “Don’t exactly look like you’re running much of an operation here, though.”

I guess that pricked his pride, his eyes narrowed and a little cap flipped out on the end of his cane- it was weirdly nostalgic to be looking down the barrel of a gun while a man in a fancy suit said his piece. “Not much of an operation?? I am the king of crime in Vale, the greatest thief this city has ever seen! Everyone in this town knows the name Roman Torchwick!”

I blinked, and after a moment he deflated a little, flipping the cap on his cane closed and resting it back on the ground. “Roman Torchwick? You must’ve heard of me?” The woman, Neo, silently tapped me on the shoulder, waving a sheet of paper in my face; a wanted poster, mugshot showing him bruised and grinning.

“I’m new in town,” I tried to explain with a shrug. “I ain’t exactly had time to check the who’s who…”

He looked me over with a gimlet eye. “Prisoner transfer? Those aren’t Vale PD cuffs… you from some village out in the sticks?”

I almost went along with the assumption, same as I had out in the desert. I had no reason to trust these people, and plenty of reason to keep my distance; all I knew about them was that they were a pair of thieves, that they weren’t too worried about their accomplices being caught, and that they’d managed to make me an accomplice after the fact. But all the same, I was short of options; you don’t last long with nobody watching your back, and I wasn’t exactly swimming in potential allies out here.

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “Got picked up by some huntsman out in Vacuo, said his boss here had some kind of interest, ‘confiscated’ all my gear and my goat when he shipped me off here for some kind of interrogation.”

Roman let out a low whistle. “Ain’t that a crying shame,” he said, sarcasm thick. “And I bet you’re just the most innocent boy scout to ever help a little old lady cross the street!”

I resisted the urge to snap at him, bristling at his tone. “I’m no saint, but who are you to talk! I’m just doing what it takes to survive here!”

For some reason, that got him to pause, and he glanced over at Neo as she made a few gestures of her own. “Ah, hell. You’ve seen too much to let you wander off,” he started, and I tensed, ready to fight, or at least hold them off until I could make it out of the building, but he kept talking. “I’m not gonna silence you, kid, don’t look so worried! You know how hard it is to get bloodstains out of this jacket?”

“Those are tricky,” I admitted, drawn into the conversation despite myself, even as I eyed the surroundings, ready for the sucker punch. “So you don’t want me dead, and you don’t want me out on the streets where I could snitch on you… Looks like you’ve only got a couple of options left.” I took one last glance around- two of them, both faster than me, on their home turf, it didn’t add up well for me.

“From now on, you work for me.”

I blinked at Torchwick. “Excuse me?”

“You’re gonna have to pay better attention than that if you want to keep your job, kid!” He was enjoying this the opportunity to hold something over me. “Neo vouched for you, you were at least smart enough to give a huntsman the slip, and with Junior’s boys folding like a cheap suit I’m looking for new… associates. And it’s not like you’ve got any better offers going.”

I glanced down at the cuffs on my wrists, broken chain clinking slightly, and frowned. “Ah, hell with it. If we’re gonna do this, let’s talk details.”

We ended up taking the discussion to Roman’s office, a little backroom with a folding table, stinking of cigar smoke and spilt liquor. He poured himself a couple of fingers, knocking it back before offering me a glass. Tasted pretty good- I was expecting something rough as wasteland moonshine, but it went down smooth and easy.

“So, you’re an escaped fugitive, you’re way away from home, and you ain’t got anything to your name,” he started, with a smug little grin. “Not the best bargaining position, is it?”

I shrugged. “I can’t say you’re wrong, there. Thing is, you need me pretty bad, and you’re gonna be willing to pay a fair rate for my work.” I leaned back in my chair, trying to project confidence.

Roman blinked at that, off-balance for a moment. “I need you? That’s news to me, kid!”

I tried to keep the panic off my face as I thought of how to justify myself. I had a feeling, just needed to put words to it. “Well… you’re expanding things, right? Got yourself a big warehouse here, working with Junior, whoever that is, to get some more cannon fodder. But the robbery Neo pulled didn’t exactly seem like a great heist, more like a smash and grab at a trading post; y’all have a quota you’re trying to fill?”

I was bullshitting as quick as I could, throwing out the ideas as quick as I could think of them- given that Roman hadn’t cut in yet, I figured I must have at least been hitting my mark. I kept talking. “So, you need manpower, and you know I’m sharp enough to avoid getting caught. Better than the suits you’d hired on, at least.”

Roman had been frowning, face darkening more and more, so it was a surprise when he broke out into a laugh. “Damn kid, you’re smarter than you look! Big mouth, though- it’s a ballsy move to say all that to my face!” He lit a cigar, adding a fresh layer to the smell of stale smoke which hung in the air. “So you think all that adds together to me needing you? You’ve got an over-developed sense of self esteem, kid!”

I shrugged. “You don’t like your boss,” I started- easy guess, nobody likes their boss- “and you can be pretty sure I have nothing to do with them. If they’re hiring you, the ‘king of crime in Vale’, you probably can’t trust anyone else in this town- I’m a stranger, so you can trust me.”

“Nobody taught you not to trust strangers, kid?” He joked, but I could see the cogs whirring behind his eyes. He glanced over my shoulder- I hadn’t heard anything, but I assumed his mute companion was there, in my blind spot. Probably making her views clear, in her way; whatever it was, Roman seemed intrigued.

“Right, kid… You can think of this as an internship. I always wanted a minion to carry my bags and fetch me coffee, anyway- and you owe me for setting your huntsman on my previous employees! Once you’ve worked off their bail, maybe you can ask about getting paid for your time, if you haven’t got yourself killed or caught by then.” He paused for effect. “And if you go yapping to anyone at all, you’ll have worse than me to worry about, understand?”

I nodded- it didn’t sound like a good deal, but that was oddly comforting. He had that wind brahmin dealer charm, if he wanted to pretty up the deal it wouldn’t have rung true. “Whatever you say, boss,” I tried it on for size. “How about a smoke to celebrate? I haven’t had one for months…”

*****

Elsewhere, there was a significantly less productive meeting taking place. Ozpin sat in his office, Bartholomew stood in front of him like a chastised student.

“You lost track of our… guest, in Vale? And were unable to find him, despite knowing his face and having him handcuffed in custody?”

Oobleck frowned, taking an uncharacteristic pause to formulate his thoughts before responding. “Young Mister Courier was entirely compliant throughout the journey to that point, and it was my belief that our custody of his pet would provide enough incentive for him to remain so. It was a mistake on my part, but I hope you understand that there were causes behind it other than carelessness on my part.”

Ozpin sighed. “I understand that, Bart, but you must admit that it doesn’t look good- you say that the boy didn’t have access to aura, and he managed to give you the slip?” He paused to sip his coffee. “After the attack on the Fall Maiden, Salem certainly has a follow-up planned, and we need to remain vigilant now more than ever; we can’t afford to miss any opportunity to unearth her plans.”

“I know the stakes,” Oobleck started, but he was interrupted by a sharp look from Ozpin.

“I would hope not, Bart; I invested many years and significant effort into ensuring that nobody had to know the true horrors we stand against.”

He stood, walked over to the office windows to look over Vale. “I dearly hope this was all a misunderstanding, and that Courier is innocent; we can’t make that assumption, not at the risk to civilian lives.”

“You want me to look for him?”

Ozpin shook his head, to Oobleck’s clear relief. “I understand that this isn’t your preferred way to contribute, and our priority is still our future huntsmen and huntresses; I have a different man in mind for this job.”

As Oobleck was preparing to leave, a thought occurred to the headmaster. “How is the boy’s pet settling in?”

Oobleck smiled briefly. “Peter is quite taken with her, she’ll be well taken care of- I would never has presumed Professor Port to have such an ungulate affinity, but he’s quite skilled in the caare and wellbeing of livestock.”

All said and done, Ozpin turned to his other affairs as Doctor Oobleck left to prepare for the upcoming academic year. He sent out a quick message to a former student:

Good evening Mr Xiao Long,

I hope this message finds you well; I understand we will have the pleasure of Yang’s attendance at Beacon in the coming year. While I am certain of the continued safety of Vale as ever, I would be remiss not to inform you of a person of interest in our ongoing woes currently at large in Vale; please find enclosed a description of the individual in question.

I would like to stress that this person is presently of no real threat to Beacon’s students, or anyone with an active aura, and I am confident in the Vale PD’s eventual ability to bring them in for questioning; there is no danger, and your assistance, while it would no doubt be appreciated, is not required.

With kindest regards,
Professor Ozpin
Beacon Academy

With that email sent, he settled in his chair, took another long sip of coffee; that would be enough to ensure Taiyang’s involvement. Qrow was better placed on his current assignment, tracking down Amber’s attackers, and Taiyang was more likely to be a suitably gentle hand if the Courier was, after all this trouble, uninvolved with Salem’s plans. He sighed, looking out over the city once again; people went about their business, content and unafraid thanks to his tireless efforts. Salem had set the board for another game, and he would not countenance her pawns running amok in his city.

Chapter Text

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected from the whole deal, but what I got was shit work, as promised. They seemed to enjoy having someone to fetch and carry for them, making coffee and rearranging the warehouse on command; I’d done worse work for worse pay, although having to keep my head down until the heat on me died down stung; Roman had brought in a wanted poster, warning anyone who saw me to contact the ‘proper authorities’- apparently I didn’t even warrant a price on my head, or the warnings festooned over Roman’s poster to keep a safe distance and contact Vale PD. With their faces plastered all over town, Roman and Neo had been keeping their heads down same as me, hanging around the warehouse, sending me to fetch inane bits and pieces for some kind of petty amusement. I was almost ready to take a swing at Roman when he sent me to find him a left-handed dust strainer, but I played along, finding a quiet corner of the warehouse to take a smoke break instead of going on his little snipe hunt.

Light hazing aside, it wasn’t such a bad job. Food was good, same as everywhere else in this strange new world, and I had a little bit of free rein with all the stuff they’d nicked- I wasn’t allowed to touch the dust, since they were working towards a quota on that stuff, but everything else was more or less free for the taking, so I armed myself with a strange, heavy little revolver- thing sat weirdly in my hand, but it took big bullets and seemed most familiar of the options. From what I’d seen of aura, I wanted some proper artillery to punch through it, more like loading up to fight a deathclaw or Brotherhood trooper than a regular person.

“You know how to use that thing, kid?” Roman asked with a quirked eyebrow, when he spotted the new iron on my hip. “Last thing we need is for you to shoot yourself in the ass fumbling around soon as a real fight starts.”

He chuckled at that, laughed more at the way I bristled. “I know how to handle myself- I could prove it if I wasn’t stuck here, doing busy work!” I snapped, which didn’t do much to quell his amusement.

“Relax, kid, it’s all just a bit of fun,” he finally said, straightening out his face before I did it for him. “It’s been a quiet few days, sure, but that’s how business goes!”He gestured expansively at the warehouse. “We’re sitting pretty on a score, so now we gotta take a moment before we can enjoy the spoils- if you’re gonna get twitchy over a few days of quiet, you’re not gonna last in this business, kid! Just relax, get yourself a cup of joe- and while you’re there, you can grab me one too.”

I grumbled, but put the pot on- nothing to do but sit on my ass and drink coffee anyway, it felt like I was one of those poor bastard caravaneers back in the Mojave outpost waiting for the NCR to pull their heads out of their asses. At least they’d had cheap beer and whiskey to drink; Roman guarded his liquor cabinet jealously after that first day. I was going stir crazy, so when the opportunity came to get out and stretch my legs I grabbed it with both hands.

It was Neo who offered the opportunity; I still couldn’t figure her out, she seemed to view the world with a sort of lazy amusement, detached from it all, but always there, watching. She’d sent me off on her share of bighorn chases, apparently entertained by my attempts to make sense of her gestures and mimed instructions, but that was slowing down as she got bored of the game. So it was a surprise when she cornered me one evening, as I was finishing off an inventory of the dust crystals they’d collected and pining for the days when I had my pip-boy to do the job for me.

She came up from behind, silently appearing from my blind spot- I’d had enough practice with that to suppress my normal instincts to twitch or go for a weapon after the first few days, but she still kept trying it.
“What do you want?” I was exhausted, bone-deep, the kind which comes from sitting on your ass all day doing brain work instead of anything practical. “I need to get this sorted out, something lit a fire under Torchwick’s ass and all of a sudden he wants everything lined up today.”

She frowned at that, made a little motion with her head towards my gun, where I’d left it hanging in it’s holster from a chair. For a second I wondered if she was calling me out, since she had that umbrella with it’s hidden blade hanging loosely in her hand, but it didn’t fit- she was more likely to go for a knife in the kidneys at midnight than pistols at high noon. Might be that I should’ve stuck with the job, but I had a pretty good idea of how much was left, good enough to estimate without counting each one individually, so I scrawled out my best guess onto the manifest and collected my gunbelt to head out.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, as Neo led me through a maze of alleyways- I could tell it was away from the centre of town, but the twists and turns left me pretty disoriented, especially without my pip-boy’s map to help keep track of things. I did my best to memorise the route, and I was pretty sure I’d be able to get back to the warehouse if anything happened whether it was the cops finding us to Neo just vanishing for the fun of watching me flounder.

Our destination, as it turned out, was out by the docks, near the city walls- an old boxing gym of some sort, even more run-down than some places I’d seen out in Reno. Felt weirdly nostalgic, like something from my time dragged forward to this place and time. That impression didn’t last, though.

From outside, the place seemed quiet- after stepping through the doors I realised it wasn’t a matter of the place being as abandoned as it seemed, but that they’d soundproofed the place something fierce; there was the rattle of gunshots from a firing range, and a couple of Xiong’s besuited gangsters beating seven kinds of hell out of each other in a roped-off arena, blades bouncing off their aura as they hacked at each other with more enthusiasm than skill. Roman had spoken at length about aura a few days ago, or at least stuck me in place while he drunkenly rambled about the whole thing. It’d been handy to get another view of things- he didn’t hold to any of the theories about people’s souls, had a more pragmatic view of things- that it was useful, but people relied on it too much by far- like these idiots blocking blades with their arms when they could just as easily sidestep the swings.

Neo could’ve got us in without attracting more than a glance, but apparently she felt like making an entrance- a couple of them turned to look as we breezed through the door, then a couple more as they murmured and nudged their friends, pointing us out. They didn’t seem happy to see us.

“Hey, that’s the asshole who set a hunter on Ricky and the boys!” One of them finally called out; it was nice to put a name to the poor saps who ended up covering my escape from the doctor. Less nice to hear it from an angry mafia wannabe approaching with a machete, but the weight of the gun in my hand helped with any stress from that. I’d drawn it on instinct, but it didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent to the dumbass approaching me- I lined up a shot on his leg, but he stopped when Neo faced him, a razor-edged grin on her face as she lightly shifted her grip on the umbrella. That did the job, her reputation more intimidating than my bullets.

“Hell are we doing here?” I asked Neo, eyes flicking between her and the figure in my gunsights. “You know there’s bad blood here, no matter what kind of deal Torchwick has with them…”

Neo silently giggled, hand in front of her mouth, the amusement in her eyes telling me that she had some kind of plan- and that I wouldn’t like what it was. She jerked her head towards the little arena, where the two fighters had broken off their little brawl to lean on the ropes, and the pair of them shifted uncomfortably away from her attention, at least until she gave me a sharp shove at the small of my back.

As I stumbled forward, things started to become clear to me. Neo enjoyed playing the enigma, but at the end of the day she was just like a cat playing with a radroach- chances were, she was just here to stir things up and watch the chaos. All well and good, but there were a lot of them, and I didn’t stand a chance if things devolved into a full-on brawl.

“I’m calling you out!” I challenged the one who’d first spoken- using one of them as a lightning rod, trying to keep things to a fair duel so that I could maybe walk away at the end. “You’ve got a problem with me? Get in that ring and have a go, unless you’re too much of a coward?”

I needed to show confidence, make it seem like I was full of piss and vinegar and ready to put a slug in every man there if they didn’t take the one-on-one fight. The arena they’d set up in the middle of the gym helped, there, made it all feel more familiar, but it would come down to reputation and bluffing- I kept up a poker face, scanning the room and counting the odds if things went south. Neo’s illusions could balance the scales enough for us to flee, but I doubted she’d pull me out of the fire like that when she could just watch me getting the tar beaten out of me instead.

“You’re not gonna let him talk to you like that, are you Clive?”

The one I’d called out seemed unnerved, but surrounded by the rest of his gang, he wasn’t likely to back down. He was taller than me, broader, as most people were in this time, but my main concern was aura- he probably had it, and I didn’t. That was the big advantage I’d have to work around somehow, as he clambered into the ring, wordlessly glaring at me as one of his mates passed him a machete. That was a problem, closed up in the tight quarters of the ring; if I’d had my shotgun I might’ve been able to keep him knocked on his ass, but with the pistol I was short on options to keep him from getting close enough to use that blade, and one unlucky hit could end me right there.

I glanced at Neo, hoping for some backup, but there wasn’t any help from there- she had a little grin on her face, eating popcorn she’d somehow laid her hands on while I was distracted with my posturing. She’d probably pull me out if it looked like I was gonna get myself killed, but I couldn’t rely on that if I didn’t put on a good show.

I’d spent some time in the New Reno fighting pits, betting on the fights and running messages for a few cents cash in hand, so I figured I had a decent idea of how things would go, albeit with blades and guns rather than boxing gloves (and, at least once, teeth). That made a big enough difference, though- there was a thick glass sheet between the punters and the ring, a big screen with some kind of electronic doohickey hooked up to it.

“We fight to aura break,” Clive said, trying to project authority in his voice. “Put your scroll in the reader, kid.”

I shook my head. “Ain’t got a scroll, ain’t got any aura- you gonna back down?”

There was a tense pause, before he shook his head, sheathing the machete. “Your funeral, kid- we’ll fight ‘till you tap out.”

With that, we squared off, opposite sides of the ring. Neo was watching, still crunching through her popcorn, but most of the rest peeled off to get back to their own business at the shooting ranges and hanging bags. That big screen lit up with a countdown, three two one, and then the only thing on my mind was the suited gangster rushing me down.
I had time for one shot before he was on me, bullet catching him in the gut but harmlessly flattening against his jacket- aura playing it’s role. He grunted with the impact, though, the only reaction to being gut-shot with a slug the size of my thumb, before swinging in with a haymaker, clumsy but wickedly fast, wind whipping past my face as I darted to the side, letting him overextend as I took my second shot, bullet to the side of the knee. I couldn’t tell how much impact I was having, if his aura was holding strong or flickering on the point of breaking, but a heavy blow to your kneecap will make you stumble no matter how good your armor is.

That gave me the space to back off, take more careful aim and squeeze off a shot at the head. They’d acted like this was just a spar, but I was playing for keeps- the machete was still sheathed at his belt, but with aura fists could be just as deadly, and if he got me into a grapple it’d all be over. He knew that as well as I did, going for a grab as my bullet flew wide and sent spiderweb cracks into the glass protector- I danced back, swinging the heavy weight of my pistol in a hammerblow, dazing him as the heavy metal caught him in the temple.

I’d read that aura protected huntsmen from little things like concussion, but maybe that came with training- my opponent’s eyes were unfocused, just for a few moments, long enough for another shot to the leg. If anything at all was getting through, I’d just keep hitting him in the same place until something gave, like pounding through a legionnaire's breastplate. I had him on the backfoot, and that got me careless- as he swung out blindly, I missed my backstep, his aura-empowered fist clipping my shoulder like a graze from a sledgehammer, sending me spinning back.

Pain sang in my nerves like a busted radio screaming out static- the arm wasn’t broken, but it’d bruise real bad. I bit back any noise, not willing to show that weakness, and aimed my gun one-handed, frantically sending a pair of bullets at him- one missed, the other caught him in the jaw. He bellowed out in pain and anger, yanking the blade from his belt and coming at me with murder flashing in his eyes. I stumbled back, our of his reach, but he was quicker than he looked, and with that blade he could extend deceptively far- pain flashed again, sharper and hotter than the dull ache in my shoulder, his blade biting a gash across my chest, shallow, sending a thin spray of blood across the arena floor.

The sight of blood on the canvas seemed to throw the gangster off, his eyes widening in shock as he recoiled from me, but pain and adrenaline were singing in my veins, giving me a burst of manic energy as I lunged into him, my shoulder ramming against his chest as I jammed the barrel of my gun under his chin, my eyes boring into his.

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter if you can win a fight- only if you can convince the other guy that they can’t. The moment of hesitation cost him, turning into real panic as I got up in his face, and he tapped out frantically, bloodied blade clattering against the arena floor. My hand shook as I drew back, forcing my finger from the trigger. One bullet left in the cylinder, unfired.

As the moment passed, all the focus and adrenaline which had been keeping the pain out of mind drained from my system, and the weight of things pressed back down on me. My opponent- Clive, his mates had called him- was true to his word, stepping out of the arena without even collecting his blade. My hands shook, it took a couple of tries to holster my weapon and stumble out of there- I moved as quick as I could, my arm clamped against the wound on my chest to staunch the bleeding as best as possible.

Neo followed me closely as I stepped out of the gym, and immediately ducked down an alleyway- had to deal with the bleeding before anyone saw us, called the cops or other trouble down on our heads. If I’d been thinking clearly I probably would’ve relied on Neo’s illusions, but I’d reverted to old instincts, slinking off to somewhere safe and quiet to patch myself up. Of course I had the gear on me; needle and thread, cloth bandages, antiseptic. The last had been a pain to lay hands on, I’d had to sneak out a flask full of Roman’s cheaper, stronger rotgut while he was out of the warehouse, but it paid out now, the sharp sting of it focusing my mind as I bit down on the sleeve of my coat and started stitching. Five sutures, and a tight wrap around my chest to staunch the blood- took maybe a half hour, all the while Neo watching with an unreadable expression. I tried to ignore her- she’d got me into that mess, I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of asking for her help now.

I moved gingerly, feeling out my range of motion without pulling the stitches too badly, and shot Neo a sour look. “The hell was the point of that?”

She simply pointed with her umbrella- we weren’t far from the seedy little gym, and I could still see the sign, The Aurelia Training Gymnasium. Took me a minute to catch her meaning, why she’d chosen this place in particular for this little excursion.

“Training?” She gave a pleased grin at that, nodding once.

“You just wanted to watch me getting my ass kicked, setting me up to fight a guy with aura!” I accused, and she shook her head, her face a picture of wounded innocence- would’ve been more convincing if it weren’t for the gash cut through my coat, and the bloody mess of my shirt. Even so, I somehow couldn’t bring myself to press on with the argument; I’d figured she wasn’t going to look after me from the start, so it didn’t feel like a true betrayal for it to be confirmed. I let out a breath, and started on the return to the warehouse, eyes scanning the unfamiliar streets as I fought to keep my thoughts from my injuries.

After a fitful night’s sleep in the little cot I had set up in one of the warehouse’s backrooms, I awoke bright and early to mismatched eyes boring into my own. Neo had somehow rolled a full whiteboard into my room without waking me, and scrawled across the top she’d written “FIGHTING WITH AURA FOR DUMMIES”.

I groaned, shook my head. “I ain’t doing this on an empty stomach,” I grumbled, ignoring her outrage as I skirted around her to get some breakfast.

*****

Roman Torchwick had not been aware of his newest protege’s plight the previous night. He’d been preoccupied with a particular thorn in his side. Settled in one of the quieter dive bars in the wrong part of Vale, he puffed on his cigar, eyeing the youth across the table from him with distaste. “She couldn’t even be bothered to make an appearance herself? I’m sticking my neck out being here, you know!”

Mercury leaned back in his seat, slurping his drink through a straw. “Relax, old man- if you get yourself caught, we’ll just find some other cheap punk to get the job done.” He gave a vicious little smirk. “You have been getting the job done, right? I’d really hate to have to tell the boss lady that you need cutting loose.”

Roman glowered a moment, before schooling his face, feigning a chuckle as he made a show of how unbothered he was. “I’m a professional, you little snot- ‘course I’ve been getting the job done! Got a stash house set up, deals ready with the Families, half the dust stores in the city cased. You think a few dozen crystals here and there is all I’ve got? This time next week I’ll have the city locked down tight, you won’t be able to read a paper without hearing my name!”

Mercury scoffed at that. “Talk is cheap- you got anything more than hot air to back that up?”
Roman slid a scroll over the table, it’s display showing him posed next to a table laden with dust crystals. “How’s that for results? I’ve been keeping up my end, don’t worry your empty little head about that, kid- and once I get started properly I’ll have enough dust stockpiled to power the whole damn kingdom!”

Mercury reached for the scroll, but Roman snatched it from his hands with a mocking grin. “If you want a better look, you better bring a note from your ma, kid. Tell the boss to get in touch with me herself if she wants to see the stash house- can’t be sharing that information with every moron who asks for it!”

Mercury grumbled at that, but Roman had made an art out of figuring exactly how far he could yank someone’s chain- Mercury wouldn’t rock the boat over something like that, as long as he could report back success and palm any problems off on someone else. He casually pulled his own scroll, sending a quick flurry of messages back and forth, glaring at Roman the whole time. Finally, he spoke.

“Boss’ll be at your place sometime soon. Don’t worry, she knows the address already.”

That little power play set the hairs on Roman’s neck prickling; if it was true, he was being watched closer than expected, and if it wasn’t they’d be scrutinising him close enough trying to track him down. He didn’t let any apprehension show, though- just another day in the office, and he was a good little employee who wouldn’t dream of stabbing the boss in the back, no sir!

“Sure, call ahead and I’ll lay out the welcome mat,” he finally said. “Was there anything else you wanted to bother me with, or can I get the hell out of this dump? I swear whatever’s sticking to this table is trying to crawl down my shirt.”

“Oh, there’s just one more thing,” Mercury said, draining his glass. “We heard about your little pet’s screw-up with Junior’s boys. Either you fix it, or you don’t bitch about whatever manpower we set you up with to replace them. Mmkay?”

With that last mocking note, Mercury slid out of the booth, whistling cheerfully as he left Roman to pick up their tab. The thief took a last swig from his beer bottle, scanning the bar thoughtfully as he considered his position- he didn’t have the right information to pull a betrayal on Cinder yet, and there was no way he’d be able to play the sycophant well enough to earn her trust for that play either. Nothing to do but commit, go all in, and start slipping aces up his sleeve as quick as he could. He left the bar, plans to strengthen his position whirling in his head.

Chapter Text

The umbrella slammed into the doorframe a hair’s breadth above my head, swinging back around on the rebound into a rattling blow. I stumbled away, trying to make distance, but she was on me again, a sharp jab to the gut sending me sprawling- I whirled, my back hitting the floor as I lined up a quick shot, centre mass- no time for anything fancy.

Click.

Neo smirked, pressing the tip of her umbrella against my throat, opening her free hand and letting my bullets clatter to the floor. Asshole had emptied my gun, probably while I was still asleep; she’d prepared for this little spar. I lowered the gun, conceding defeat- she’d taken a swing at me as soon as I’d tried to blow off her lesson, and given how easily she’d taken me down I couldn’t deny that I needed to learn more.

“Fine, I give- let me up, I’ll listen to what you have to say…”

I realised it was a poor choice of words before I’d finished the sentence, her self-satisfied smirk twitching into a brief frown as she flicked her umbrella up to knock my bruised head. At least it was away from my throat, so I took the opportunity to roll with the hit and clamber to my feet, head spinning for a moment as I leaned against the wall to get my bearings. Not the worst I’d gotten my bell rung, but you never really get used to the feeling.

“Okay… let’s see what you’ve got,” I gritted out, more focused on keeping my head on straight and getting the words out than anything else. She covered her mouth in a silent laugh, lightly pushing me back into the room where she’d set up her whiteboard.

It turns out a minor concussion and a mute, impatient teacher don’t combine particularly well. I’m not sure how long it was before Neo stormed off in a silent huff, but it must’ve been less than an hour. Probably learned more from getting beaten down by her umbrella than from the mined out lesson, her stick figure diagrams of where to hit aura-users to make it hurt and how to tell when they were running out of aura. I stared at the whiteboard, covered with scribbles and little cartoon frowny faces, and staggered over to the little kitchen they’d set up for some breakfast and an ice pack for my bruises.

Roman had apparently given Neo orders to train me up, as much to keep her out of his hair as to get me ready for proper work. He was working on something big, poring over maps, noting down police response times and the expected size of each response- made me think of the glimpses I’d seen of NCR battle plans, all the arrows and expected responses. Assuming his information was good, it seemed like the chances were good that things would work out, but elaborate plans like that were always more of a gamble than you’d think.

Not that I had much opportunity to nitpick, probably by design. After her abortive attempt at sitting me down for a traditional lesson, Neo decided to go for more of a crash course in self-defence over the few days we had. Constant ambushes, blows coming from my blindspot and surprise attacks when I slept; it was strangely easy to slip back into the properly paranoid wasteland mindset, like slipping on a comfortable old set of boots.

Since I’d gotten better at avoiding her usual ambushes, Neo had started getting creative, especially when I was dumb enough to let anything important out of my sight. I eyed the doorway warily- my gun was in there, plainly visible on the table, which meant it was definitely a trap. Door was a bottleneck if she was going to ambush me there, assuming she wasn’t waiting near the gun- or watching me overthink things before getting the drop on me as I stood there.

Better to keep on the move than stand around like a dumb static target- I rushed the door, ducking in case Neo was about to go for her usual hit to the head- there was no swish of a missed blow, which just meant I didn’t know where Neo was. I wasn’t dumb enough to beeline for my weapon, the moment I did something so predictable I’d be crushed like a radroach, so I circled around, keeping close to the walls to limit her angles of approach, ears straining for the sounds of a footfall or the crinkle of moving fabric- her illusions made relying on my eyes worse than useless, but I always did have damn good hearing.

A faint scrape sent me diving for cover, as she dropped down from the ceiling- I couldn’t make out any real handholds, but aura made her inhumanly agile and better at gripping than a gecko. Most people would’ve taken a second to readjust after missing a big swing like that, but she bounced after me like a murderous rubber ball, leaping after me quicker than I could possibly react. That was the trick, prediction and unpredictability; I’d already scrambled to one side, inches away from her swing. I lashed out, pushing away from her as I blindly grabbed for my gun. The weight of it in my hand was reassuring, heavy enough that I could tell it was at least loaded this time.

I fired fast, shooting on instinct- one round shattered an illusion, and then she was on me, umbrella smacking aside my gunhand before I could line up a telling shot. This was nothing like the little scuffle in the gym, being close to Neo was more like standing in a blender trying to dodge the blades. I took a blow to the gut, the chest, another to the leg sent me crumpling- I’d lasted maybe ten seconds, and she hadn’t even been taking the whole thing seriously. She grinned smugly, kicking off my chest with a flourish as she made some distance, barely ruffled by our little spar, and turned to the freezer, grabbing a tub of ice-cream to celebrate. Took me a minute to regain my feet and stagger over to the coffee maker- floor was sticky underfoot, a stray bullet had shattered the pot and spilled black gold all over the linoleum.

I grumbled, slipping a plastic jug under the spout as I set a fresh batch brewing; I needed some chemical assistance to keep me moving after three days of getting my ass beat every couple of hours, and waiting that extra few minutes was almost more painful than Neo’s training.

I got one sip before Roman interrupted us. “Hey kids, playtime’s over!” He strode across the room, splayed out a paper map across the table and plucked the mug of coffee from my hands, taking an obnoxious slurp. I snatched it back before he could steal any more, knocking it back in one blisteringly hot swig before looking over the map.

“You’re gonna have to translate this for me,” I glanced over the map, trying to make heads or tails of the maze of arrows and timings scrawled across it. Roman gave a theatrical little sigh, pointing at the map with his cane.

“Vale PD is stretched thin this time of the year, right before the huntsman academies open up- lots of heavily armed kids looking to blow off steam before they get stuck in school. They’ll have extra patrols around the clubs, always do, and that’s our opportunity. Since you can’t be trusted around Junior’s men, I’ve got them hitting a few warehouses that are getting a dust shipment in,” he tapped a spot pretty close to our little safehouse. “Those morons are definitely gonna get their dumb asses caught without a good distraction though- worse, they could lead the cops straight here. That’s where we come in- Neo, I want you sticking around here, running interference and making sure those assholes get everything dropped off without getting caught or blowing everything to hell.”

Neo nodded, not smirking for once- of course this was what she’d take seriously, if this went south there’d be deputies swarming all over her ice-cream stash.

“Where do I fit into this? And what about you, are you just planning on sitting pretty for this one?” I eyed Roman briefly, before looking over the map again, trying to figure out the full picture of his plan. There was still something missing, a dense scribble of escape routes and response times around the main street, way away from the warehouses and too close to the clubs for comfort.

“You get the easy job- you get to come with me on a smash and grab, I just need a bagman,” Roman said, self satisfied smile on his face. “We’ll be in and out in less than a minute, but the cameras love me- pigs won’t be able to resist coming for me, especially in a fancy neighbourhood like this. They’ll always look after rich folks more than some poor bastards working the graveyard shift at the docks.”

“Decoy duty?” I couldn’t help but let the cynicism colour my voice- I wouldn’t put it past him to leave me holding the bag for the sheriff’s men to pick up if it suited him.

He reached over to ruffle my hair, stopping when I rested my hand on my holstered revolver. It’s good to have an understanding with your boss. “Don’t worry so much, kid. It’s an easy job, in and out and leave the cops chasing their tails in our wake. I’ve done it plenty, just stick with me!”

I frowned, looking over the plans. If the information was right, we’d be nothing but tracks in the sand long before anyone made it to us, assuming nothing went wrong. Neo was a backup for Junior’s goons, but there was no safety net on our side of town. “You mentioned there were a bunch of huntsman students in town, what’s stopping one of them from stepping in?”

“Who’d be hanging around a dust store at night? I did my research, that place is quiet as a grave after seven, and it’s not like any of those brats could hold a candle to me anyway!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be smeared across a wall because someone decided to start a shootout in a dust shop!”

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he was fighting back a headache- a little too theatrical to be convincing, even before he started speaking with a sly little smile. “After all I’ve done for you, keeping you out of prison, taking you in out of the goodness of my heart… Fine. If you’re gonna be a little coward about it, I could give you a helping hand- but it’ll cost you! I’ll unlock your aura for your share of the take for this job.”

Greedy bugger had been working towards this angle for the whole conversation at least- trying to get me to work for free. Even so, it honestly didn’t seem like such a bad deal- from all I’d read and heard, an unlocked aura would stay unlocked permanently, and if I was gonna survive here I needed something to stop some super-powered cop from knocking my head off with a casual backhand. “Guess I won’t get a better offer than that,” I conceded.

“Good choice, kid!” Roman crowed, enjoying the petty victory even as Neo pouted at the prospect of losing her punching bag. “You got any more bitching to do, or can we start getting this show on the road?”

I figured I could take advantage of his good mood to dig in for a few more details. “Why are we stealing all this dust anyway?”

Roman frowned at that, his good mood dissipating instantly. “Above your pay grade, kid,” he said sharply. “I’ve got work to do- you rest up, it ain’t worth unlocking your aura if you’re gonna drain it all over a few bruises before the job anyway. Neo, you know what needs doing.”

Neo snapped off a little salute, heading off with a spring in her step even as I shambled off to sleep off my aching injuries. I’d read that some folks said that sleeping with a head injury was a bad idea, but I’d never run into complications from it- a good few hours kip did a world of good for most anything, as far as I could tell.

Neo had been pulling her punches, keeping her blade sheathed and not hitting as hard as she could, but even a pulled blow gave me some real nasty bruises to nurse- by the time I’d taken a few hours, the pain was less but I’d come out in blotchy purple and green marks across my skin. Still, my joints were alright, I could move smoothly without much trouble, so I headed out to see if Roman would make good on our little bargain.

The man himself was talking down his scroll, barking out orders. “You stay put until six fifty, then make your move on the warehouse. I don’t care about any of that, you wait until the right time, understand??”

With an exasperated sigh, he closed the scroll with a snap, cutting off the call. “Brothers save me from amateurs… Hey kid, you’re up quickly. Neo must be losing her touch…”

I took a quick glance around at that, just in case she was lurking nearby ready to prove him wrong, but after a moment I let some of the tension drain from my muscles. “Can’t say I agree with that… I always did heal pretty quick, is all. So, you said you were gonna unlock my aura- figured it’d be better to get that done now so I have a day or two to get used to the whole thing before I gotta rely on it.”

“So impatient,” Roman tutted. “Kids these days… alright, I can get it done now if it stops you whining about it!”

I don’t know what I’d expected- the books I’d read were pretty reticent about how unlocking Aura worked- probably to stop civilians and crooks from getting it and starting some kind of esoteric arms race. I’d assumed it was a surgery of some sort at first, a fancy cybernetic, but if Roman was offering to do it in the warehouse it couldn’t be something that complex- more likely a chem of some sort, I was all ready for Roman to pull a needle or inhaler or something along those lines.

What I wasn’t ready for was him putting a hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes with a sharp gaze. I fought the urge to avert my eyes, pinned in place like a bug in a collection as he spoke.

It is in audacity that we earn infamy.
Through this, we become a paragon of deceit and skill to rise above the herd
Infinite in daring and unbound by morality I free your soul, and in my shadows guard thee.

There was a strange weight to the words, and as he spoke I felt something shifting, like a flame flickering on inside of me, or a sandy desert wind blowing through me. Hard to describe, and as quickly as it came the sensation had vanished, leaving me feeling not much different. Bruises ached a little less, movement came a little easier, like I’d just taken off a heavy pack, but I still felt like me.

Roman, on the other hand, looked a little tired, like he’d just finished a hard sprint.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it??” Roman eyed me incredulously. “A little gratitude, you brat- you know how many people would beg on their hands and knees to get their aura unlocked without going on some huntsman registry??”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean anything by that, just… From all I read, I thought this was meant to be some life changing thing, you know? Folks talk about aura like it’s some kind of super power…”

He batted me over the head with his cane at that- it hurt, but not as much as it should’ve, like the thing was wrapped in soft cloth instead of being a length of weighted metal. “Aura’s a crutch, same as semblances. It’s useless if you’re gonna treat it like a magic bullet instead of using your brain!” He fiddled with his scroll a moment, grabbed my arm and pressed it against the skin of my palm, whistling lowly. “I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem for you though, kid- your aura is puny!”

I frowned. “What does that mean? I thought either you had it or you didn’t?”

Roman shook his head, taking on the condescending, lecturing tone he always did when he had something to tell me. “What are they teaching you kids these days? It’s not so simple- just because you have an unlocked aura doesn’t mean much if you don’t know how to use it, and how much you have is part of that. Think like a bank account- you spend money to patch yourself up, stop some asshole from poking a hole in you, whatever else, and then you gotta give it a rest to refill. Or you go negative, blow through too much all at once, and then you’re screwed!” He paused, eyeing me. “You’re like the aura equivalent of some poor bastard who’s trying to buy a house working at a noodle stand- you ain’t got much, and you ain’t gonna recover fast if you blow it, so you’d better figure out how to live on the cheap, or get yourself in a real bad hole!”

I raised an eyebrow at his… colourful way of explaining. “So I gave up my share of the take, and I’m not even going to be able to stand my ground in a fight?”

Roman laughed at that. “Kid, you weren’t ever gonna be able to stand up to a real fighter- didn’t you learn that from getting your ass kicked the last few days? Most real hunters start training when they’re half your age, you ain’t gonna catch up with that. Use your brain!”

“I’ve been scrapping for longer than that,” I grumbled, but I had to concede the point- there’s a big difference between a shootout with some tweakers and the sort of stunts aura users seemed to be able to pull as a matter of course.

Roman tapped something out onto the scroll in his hands, setting a machine in the corner whirring and spitting out paper. “Here, kid. Some aura exercises- meditation, breathing, all that good crap. You ain’t gonna be a contender, but at least this’ll make you a little less pathetic- now scram, some of us have actual work to do!”

*****

Tai double checked his scroll, noting the time. “Come on Ruby, it’s getting late. You can buy your dust some other day.”

The girl in question pouted at that- it’d been nice to have a day out, a chance to visit the city and pick up everything she’d need for a new year at Signal, but Tai had been hovering over her like a mother hen the whole time. “Are we going to have time to come back here before school starts? My baby needs looking after, and Weaponry Weekly has an article about recoil-dampening bearings that I just have to read! Pretty please?”

Tai really did try to resist, but Ruby’s puppy-dog eyes were legendary in Patch for a reason; besides, for all that the message from Ozpin had spooked him, it didn’t seem like things were so bad in Vale. The girls had been chafing at his over-protectiveness, ever since he’d put his foot down on Yang having a night out on the town to celebrate her acceptance into Beacon; might be that it was time to ease up a little.

“Fine,” he relented, to Ruby’s enthusiastic cheers. “You stay in the shop, I’ll just bring the car around so we can start heading home right after. Remember, Yang’s got the barbecue set up for dinner, you don’t want to be late for that!”

“I’ll stay right there, promise!” Ruby offered him a salute, her face comically serious for a moment before returning to her carefree smile. Tai hesitated, but he’d only be gone a minute, Ruby was smart enough to keep out of trouble, and this was a safe part of town besides; he wouldn’t have thought twice about letting her go shopping on her own under normal circumstances.

Decision made, he walked her to the store, giving a nod to the old man behind the counter. “Evening, Mister Seji- mind keeping an eye on Ruby for a minute? I’ll be back before you know it!”

Seji nodded, a smile on his wrinkled face- the Xiao Long family had put a fair bit of money over the counter here, buying enough dust for a whole family of huntsmen and huntresses, and they’d built up an easy rapport over the years. “No problem, Mr. Xaio Long!” He turned that same smile on Ruby- he’d always had a soft spot for her, appreciating someone who would happily spend her time quietly browsing before dropping an enormous sum onto some high-end gadget or gizmo for her scythe.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Tai assured them, unnecessarily- Ruby was already entranced by a display of dust-driven mechashift actuators, giving a distracted goodbye over her shoulder before slipping her headphones on to block out the world around her. With a rueful chuckle, Tai let her have the moment, hurrying down the slowly darkening streets to load the car with their purchases and prepare for the return journey to Patch.

There was nothing like a quiet, uneventful shopping trip to calm frayed nerves.

Chapter Text

It was dark, the twilight moment where the shadows lengthened and streetlights sputtered on. A pair of lights flared in the cab of a van, Roman and I simultaneously lighting our cigarettes- I couldn’t speak for him, but I always needed a little something to steady my nerves and my aim before a job like this.

“Remember kid, we’re looking for a distraction, not a bloodbath,” Roman said, uncharacteristically serious. “Keep your finger off the trigger unless we run into someone with aura- and if that happens, you follow my lead, got it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said the only folks with aura would be kids getting drunk all the way downtown- what are the odds of trouble?”

He nodded at the glass frontage of the shop. “One old man, one small child- looks too young to be getting into Beacon any time soon. We get in, we fill our pockets, we drive off, nice and easy, nobody gets hurt.”

I almost laughed- of course it wasn’t going to go so simply. Things never did. We smoked in silence for a moment, keeping an eye out while we waited for the right time to make our move. Finally, an alarm chimed on Roman’s scroll, a message from Neo with a little picture of a thumbs up.

“Showtime.”

We moved slowly, unhurried steps. No need to skulk, since we were looking to be seen- Roman even paused under a streetlight, taking a theatrical drag from his smoke before grinding it out on the floor. I flicked my own butt into the gutter- nobody would be dumb enough to light up around that much dust, whole place would be a crater from one misplaced spark or hot enough ash. I tugged my bandana into place, settled my hat more securely on my head, and followed Roman in to the store.

The little bell on the door dinged merrily as we filed in- the girl didn’t react at all, some sort of headset covering her ears, but the shopkeep looked up, squinting myopically at us- he barely glanced at me, eyes widening at the sight of Roman and ignoring me entirely.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a dust shop open this late?” Roman drawled- he was putting on a show now, playing out his role like an actor on a stage.

I casually shifted my jacket, showing the pistol on my hip- no need for more than that, the old man was already ready to crack.

“Please, just take my lien and leave!”

Roman shushed him, “Calm down, we’re not here for your money- grab the dust!”

I’d been ready to get that part of things started, but there was one minor issue to resolve first. “One moment, boss,” I sidled past the aisle of empty containers and cheap mags to where the girl in the red hood was still obliviously staring at one of the displays, leafing through a magazine. Even from where I was standing I could hear the music she was listening to- some kind of unfamiliar instrument screaming, no wonder she was in a world of her own. I cleared my throat, and when that didn’t work I just tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned, surprised at the intrusion, hear ears covered by some kind of headset which was still screaming out that music from a set of tinny speakers. She lowered them, fixing her face into a polite little smile. “Yes?”
I forced a frown, trying for intimidation. “Scram, kid. Store’s closing.”

She blinked, her eyes flickering from the gun at my belt to Roman filling his bag with cut Dust crystals. “Are you… robbing me?”

Something about that the hair on my neck prickling; she was too casual being in an armed robbery, completely at ease with a weapon enthusiast’s magazine clasped in her hand. I shifted my weight, expecting trouble. “We’re robbing the store, you can just run along- go fetch the cops!”

“Ooohh…” The smile didn’t shift an inch as she seemingly understood the situation- then she was moving, and I was drawing my gun.

She was fast, maybe faster than Neo, but at least she wasn’t blindsiding me- I threw myself to the side, tipping over the display as I lined up a shot. Could’ve hit her, probably, but behind her was a set of tubes, glowing with densely-packed dust- a miss or a ricochet would blow the whole place sky-high. Instead, I turned my stumbling dodge into a run, shouting out to Roman. “Aura user! Time to clear out!”

Roman hesitated a second, smirking at the sight of me running from a kid even shorter than me before getting his game face on. I skidded slightly on the turning, trying to get to the door, and the girl was fast enough to take advantage, launching into a full-body tackle which sent us both shattering through the display window.

You never want to go through a window, if there’s any alternative. Glass is hard, you’ll pick up nasty bruises going through it, and that ignores all the little shards- hundreds of little cuts, even if they’re superficial you’re near enough guaranteed an infection, and that’s if you’re lucky enough to avoid slashing an artery or puncturing an organ. Getting thrown through would’ve put the both of us out of the fight, in a normal time and place.

Aura changes the equation- with the adrenaline pulsing, I could almost see it in slow motion, the shards just bouncing off both me and the girl as I pushed away from her, separating in the air as I skidded to a stop, the red-hooded girl managing a more graceful landing on her feet, a cocky grin on her face as she gripped some boxy device, unfolding into a truly bizarre weapon- a giant polearm, hooked blade standing as tall as she was.

Roman stood in the doorway, looking over to me. “Looks like you’re earning your pay today, kid.”

I rolled my shoulders, feeling my aura wrapped around me- a little more threadbare from the window, but still intact. Gun was heavy in my hand- I didn’t think much of my chances, with the size of that scythe and the speed she moved at. Had to stop her from closing the distance.

Our brief standoff ended in a flurry of movement. I lined up my shot, aiming and firing in the same motion, but she was quick enough to dodge, using her weapon like a climbing hook to pull herself to one side- she skidded for a moment, before pulling a trigger, a rifle built into the haft of her scythe. Wasn’t even aimed at me, the bullet ricocheting off a streetlight as she used the recoil to send herself flying at me, ready to swing for me.

Getting into the air is a bad move in a fight- jumping, climbing, either way you end up over committed, unable to dodge or brace yourself. My gun bucked in my hand, second round screaming towards her centre of mass.

She fired once again, spiderweb of cracks in the apartment next to her as she once again rode the recoil away from my bullet. She had the reactions to go with her speed, twitchier than a Turbo-addled cazador, but dodging the bullet had broken her momentum, sending her careening to the side instead of charging towards me. I took a breath, lining up my third shot- rifle cycled slower than my revolver, if I could control the recoil and line up my shots quick enough I could at least tag her.

Sometimes tunnel vision can be useful; shutting out distractions like wailing sirens, aching bones, or bloodied hands can make the difference between hitting your target or getting shanked in a Freeside alley. It has it’s downsides, though- leaves you open to being blindsided.

The hook of Roman’s cane lopped around my neck, the harsh jerk sparking a brown flare from my aura as I stumbled backwards. In front of my face, a fist, the breeze of a haymaker strong enough to take my head clean off barely missing. A blond man, face a rictus of fury- with my focus broken I could hear his enraged shout, the sirens perilously close, everything rushing back to me like an overwhelming wall.

I was lucky the blond was more worried about the redhead than taking me out; he was a big guy, and even unarmed he seemed eager for a scrap. Roman apparently agreed, speaking out.

“Well, I think we’ve all had a lovely time here, but that’s our cue to exit, stage left!”He flipped his cane in his hand, flipping up his sight and launching a missile at the pair of them, the blond turning to put himself between the younger girl and the explosive.

Roman had told me about his weapon once, when we were planning this little distraction, and seeing it in action backed up everything he’d said. It was toothless, all bark and no bite- he loaded it with firework-grade dust, plenty of flash and noise and smoke but barely any heat or force. We were already moving before the explosion, Roman tugging me towards a fire escape.

“The roofs? We’ll be sitting ducks!” I protested, even as I heaved myself up the ladder after him. “You’d better have a plan, old man!”

“Cram it, kid!” Now that his audience was deafened, he let the tension into his voice. “That was a huntsman, he could follow our van back home with his eyes closed! I’ve got a plan B lined up!”

I chanced a glance back, seeing the pair of them recovering from the flashbang far below, before focusing back on the ladder. I didn’t like this- sirens were perilously close, the blond had finished looking over the kid in the hood and started towards our ladder, and Roman’s obvious worry didn’t inspire confidence. Wouldn’t put it past him to leave me as a fall guy, but sticking close to him seemed just a little more likely to keep me from getting my teeth kicked in by an angry huntsman.

We crested the roof a bare few moments ahead of the huntsman, I could hear his huffing breath as he rushed up the ladder behind us. I slipped a few more slugs into my revolver, but I wasn’t looking to take on a second round; blond wouldn’t break a sweat throwing me off this roof, and there wasn’t enough space to keep a safe distance with aura users moving as fast as they did.

“Come on, you absolute bitch, come on,” Roman muttered, eyes on his scroll- hiding it as the blond pulled himself onto the roof, tucking the scroll into his jacket and pasting a smug grin over the tension marking his face. “Blondie! You huntsmen really have nothing better to do than hassle us innocent folks doing a spot of evening shopping?”

The huntsman simply cracked his knuckles, taking a centered stance in front of the ladder, blocking our only good way down. “Roman Torchwick! It’s the end of the line for you, and your accomplice- You going to come quietly?”

Roman simply grinned, backing towards the edge of the roof. “You make it sound so tempting, but I’ve got a date to go to; it’d be rude to stick around when our ride’s here!”

I heard it before I saw it, the roar of vertibird engines as our escape rose up behind him. Ever the showman, Roman stepped back into the open side door with a laugh even as I hustled into it. Don’t know why the blond didn’t come after us, unless he was worried about the collateral from taking down a few tonnes of glass and steel in the middle of the city. I brandished my gun, just in case he needed more of a deterrent, and if he’d been alone maybe that would’ve been the end of it.

Another blonde, a woman with a riding crop who might’ve worked at the Atomic Wrangler if she weren’t so clean. Unfamiliar to me, but Roman seemed to recognise her, judging by the quiet swearing.

“Two hunters? We’ve got trouble here!” He threw something down at the roof, even as the woman made some kind of gesture with her crop, our vertibird bucking as the engines screamed against some unseen force. I opened fire, but my bullets spattered harmlessly off some unseen barrier- not Aura, something even stranger. Roman added his fire, not aiming at either of the hunters, but at their feet, where a red speck glinted- he must’ve palmed a dust crystal from our brief attempted robbery, kept it hidden until now, when it was needed. His fireworks were more flash and bang than a real threat, usually, but I’d spent the last few weeks having dust safety drilled into my head- red dust meant fire, and it sparked easier than a keg of gunpowder.

Things happened fast- the FOOM of a dust ignition, the scream of the vertibird’s engines suddenly quieting as the force holding us in place vanished, jerking us upwards in a sharp ascent. I could see the explosion, contained in a tight little dome before it could spread- the woman barely showed any strain holding back the force of the improvised little grenade. Roman ducked into the cockpit, a woman dressed in some kind of evening dress wordlessly taking his place at the door. I offered a nod, which she ignored in favour of eyeing the two hunters beneath us. The man himself seemed out of the fight, not having any kind of gun or real weapon, but the woman was more trouble- she threw something, and shards of ice rained down on us, battering our vehicle.

I fired again and again, trying to distract her, break her focus, but she wasn’t fazed until the woman in the red dress added her own firepower to the mix, making some strange gestures as gold threading on her dress sparked into light and flames rained down onto the rooftop. A wide spray of fireballs, tearing into the apartment roof like a buckshot of artillery shells- sprays of concrete ran into another shield the woman threw up, hanging briefly in the air before they came together like swarming mantises into a great spear which she flung at us. Roman jerked the vertibird, jarring the bullets out of my hand as I reloaded and sending the woman in the red dress stumbling, but sending the great weapon scraping across the armored roof instead of filling the compartment with whirling death.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” I called, as Roman worked the controls.

“Working on it, kid!” Roman snapped, wrestling with the controls as the fragmented spear formed into a ring caging the vertibird. The woman flexed her fingers, as if she was gripping something , and a burst of fire set the rubble surrounding us clattering to the street far below- before the fight could drag on any further, Roman jerked the controls, door sliding shut as we jetted away.

I released a breath, sagging against the wall and for the first time taking a proper look at our unexpected companion. “Evenin’” I said, once I’d gotten my breathing under control, fishing out a cigarette to celebrate our escape.

The woman looked me up and down, eyes narrowed and lip curling in undisguised disgust. She turned without a word, slipping into the co-pilot’s seat. “Roman- once again you’ve disappointed me. I gave you a simple job, and you’ve utterly failed- it makes me wonder if I should find a more reliable subordinate.”

The threat was obvious, and judging by the fireworks earlier she could probably follow through on them. I checked the cylinder of my gun, just in case, while Roman tried to defuse the situation.

“Everything went according to plan, don’t get yourself all twisted up! This was a distraction, and it went flawlessly!”

I bit my tongue- the plan definitely didn’t include ditching our van, or having three aura users on our tails. Wouldn’t do to undermine Roman when he was trying to negotiate, though- I knew when it was more important to act like dumb muscle than try to step in.

“Look down there- the cops are swarming, there’s two hunters, all of them chasing their tails while we make our getaway- and nobody’s at the warehouses, where the real heist is happening. That’s why you hire the best, gorgeous! I’ve got this whole city dancing to my tune!”

He was playing a role again, I could tell- the false bravado he brought out for heists and other performances. I just rolled with it- I didn’t know the situation, the dynamics or the threat involved, and I didn’t want to go blundering into a landmine.

She frowned, flicked her glance over to me. “And who’s this? Picked up another guttersnipe?”

I quietly bristled at that offhand remark, but let Roman take the lead.

“Just a hired hand- you know how good it is to have disposable minions on hand! Don’t worry, he’ll keep his mouth shut.” That last sentence came with a meaningful look towards me, so I dutifully nodded. This woman was trouble, but Roman was acting like there was some kind of plan- better to play it cool, then shake him down for details later. “I think we’ve shaken them for now- I’ll set us down, you can take your bullhead and go about your evening!”

There was a brief pause as she eyed Roman, then me, before nodding her assent. “I’ll expect a full report on this, Roman. Delivered in person. I hope you can prove yourself worthy of your reputation despite everything.”

Roman brought us down in a clearing, in a forest a little ways out of town- beyond the city walls the darkness lay heavy, and with the vertibird’s running lights off the shadows swallowed us well enough.

“Don’t let the Grimm bite,” Cinder smirked as we filed off, taking to the skies once again, leaving us in the dark, claustrophobic forest.

Roman straightened out, brushing some imagined dust off his pristine white coat. “Worse than my ex-wife,” he grumbled, looking up at the swiftly retreating vehicle. “We got a hike ahead of us, kid- gotta move it if we want to be inside by morning!”

*****

As the pair tromped through the forest, shoving through underbrush and eyeing the shadows ready for opportunistic Grimm, another debriefing was happening in far cosier surroundings. Glynda Goodwitch had tried to insist that it happen in one of Beacon’s properties in the city, but Tai had put his foot down- he didn’t want his daughter stuck in the city overnight, nor did he want to worry Yang through his absence. Thus it was that Ozpin found himself sat in a small kitchen in Patch, a cup of coffee in his hands, in one of the least formal debriefs he’d ever been through.

“So then I was like Hi-ya, and threw him out of the shop before he could shoot anything, then he tried to hit me but I was too fast, and then Dad arrived and-”

“I think I can take it from here,” Tai said with a gentle smile, cutting off Ruby’s hyperactive retelling of events. “Why don’t you go get some dinner with Yang? I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear everything.”

Once there were only adults in the room, the atmosphere grew more serious. “It was Roman Torchwick, accompanied by the kid you warned me about, Courier Six- he was using one of those old-style high-caliber dust revolvers, keeping Ruby busy while Roman sent some sort of message on his scroll. Probably arranging for their accomplice to help them escape- I interceded, at which point Torchwick used an explosive to create a distraction and escape to a rooftop, where they rendezvoused with this unknown accomplice in a civilian model bullhead. Glynda arrived, there was a brief fight with the bullhead pilot using dustcasting techniques to effect their escape, and I think after that you know better than me what happened. I think Vale PD lost them.”

Glynda nodded, confirming that his account lined up with what she’d seen. “Vale PD determined that it wasn’t worth pursuing them outside of city limits, given their failure to make off with any significant Dust or Lien. The Bullhead was reportedly stolen from a Mistrali holding company.”

The mere idea of navigating Mistral’s labyrinthine bureaucracy to try and pin down the true origins of the bullhead was enough to start a stress headache in Ozpin- criminals across Remnant would use the excuse of a ‘Mistrali Holding Company’ to hide their ill-gotten gains and ensure that any investigations were snarled in a maze of red tape and obstructive officials.

“We’ll have to table that side of the investigation for now. Unfortunately, there may be more to this than a mere robbery gone wrong.” He leaned forwards, steepling his fingers. “Young Ms. Rose takes after her mother, and I believe she may have inherited some similar enemies. We can’t discount the possibility that this was a targeted attack on her- it may be a coincidence, but steps should be taken for her safety.”

Tai paled slightly at the implication, long-buried fears resurfacing. “You think… she might be making another move?”

Ozpin nodded gravely. “Her agents have been active recently, outside of the kingdoms; we have suspicions that Courier Six is one such agent.” He paused, letting the moment settle a moment. “This may have been another attempt at assassinating a Silver-eyed warrior before she can come into her true power.”

“I can’t lose Ruby,” the words came unbidden, Tai’s gaze far away. Patch was a nice place to live, but it wasn’t fortified like the big city, wouldn’t be safe from an attack from Grimm or from Salem’s agents, and Tai couldn’t be sure of his own ability to defend his family.

“It may be worth considering… an early enrollment?” Glynda frowned at Ozpin’s words, but Tai hung onto them like a drowning man to a lifeline. “Beacon is the safest place in the kingdom, and our faculty is more than capable of ensuring her safety.”

There was some resistance, of course, Tai worried about Ruby sharing her mother’s fate after Beacon, but once Ozpin persuaded him to put the question to Ruby it was decided- she would be going to Beacon academy early, Tai trusting in Ozpin’s protection despite his reservations.

Chapter Text

“So, now seems like a good time for a debrief,” Roman said brightly. “How do you think that went, kid?”

I blinked, looked back at him- smiling brightly, not a care in the world- before returning my attention to the dark forest we were trekking through.

“How do you figure?” I asked, humoring him. “We ran into more opposition than you’d believe, got chased off, and had to be rescued by this mystery woman who dumped us in the middle of the forest to play Grimm bait until we can sneak back into the city!”

“Look on the bright side!” Roman cajoled. “We made it out, we made those hunters look like complete morons, and you can bet with a distraction that big nobody will give a damn what happened with the warehouses. This was a complete success! So stop your bitching you’ll attract the Grimm.”

“Is that something that actually happens?” I raised an eyebrow. “I figured that one was just government issue bullshit, make people put on a happy face so they won’t complain about taxes and sheriffs.”

Roman chuckled, a bit of an edge to it. “You have too much faith in authority- you really think the kingdoms could work together well enough to keep that kind of lie going?”

I considered that- it lined up, alright. “So the Grimm actually go after people who are pissed off?”

“Aura and negative emotions, kid- you should know this shit, have you been living under a rock?”

“I’m pretty sure I came from the past, actually,” I said, trying to match his casual glibness. I wasn’t looking at him, focused on our path ahead, but I heard him miss his step, the three part rhythm of his feet and cane faltering for just a moment.

“Huh… we’ll put a pin in that one for now,” he said, after a moment’s pause. I’d gotten used to that tone of voice, same as people used when I told them I’d been shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave back home. You know the kind, where you start wondering if the person you’re talking to should be trusted around sharp objects. “So, moving on- you did okay, for your first real fight. You think you could’ve taken that red girl?”

I considered. My first instinct was to say yes, that I would’ve won that fight easily if it weren’t for the interruption, but I had a feeling Roman wasn’t looking for a quick and easy bit of bull. “Could’ve gone either way,” I hedged. “She’s quick, and if she knows how to use that blade I don’t think I’d have the aura to hold out for long, but she was more focused on dodging than closing with me- I could hold her off for a bit, but I’ve only got six rounds in the chamber. Might be different if I had my gear…”

“You’re that scared of a little girl?” Roman joked, before dropping the act for just a moment. “That’s good, kid, but don’t let anyone see that. Bad for your reputation if they think you’re taking a fight with a little kid too seriously, even if they’re waving around Remnant’s biggest garden tool.”

“All part of the act?”

“The show must go on,” Roman nodded. “Now shut your mouth, we’re coming up on the walls and I don’t wanna deal with some innocent bystander who heard us.”
I’d never properly seen Vale’s walls, from the outside on foot. I’d let them sit in the back of my mind- there weren’t good sightlines to them in most of the city, you could almost forget they were there, but from the outside they were monolithic. Great grey slabs of stone, closer to the Hoover Dam than any wasteland-madee wall or fence I’d seen, the surrounding ground burned and blasted clear of any trees or foliage. I could barely see the top, craning my neck to see the faint glint of unmanned guns and spotlights peppered along the rampart. I shrank back a little trusting the treeline to keep me hidden from any prying eyes, wondering how anyone- anything- could possibly bypass an obstacle like that.

Roman didn’t hesitate, stepping past me with a self-assured swagger. “Whoever made this was compensating for something- easy enough to get through though, cops get nice and complacent on the borders.”

True enough, as he left the treeline and strode across the barren no-man’s-land at the foot of the wall there was no hue and cry, no lights flashing on and no guns lining up their shots. I followed in his footsteps, still cautious, eyeing the rampart of the wall ready for any passing guard to throw everything into chaos.
Roman picked his way along the foot of the wall, tapping with his cane like a blind man until he found a spot which suited him. “Help me lift this,” he called, scraping away a little dirt to reveal a panel recessed into the ground.

“Old smuggler’s entrance,” he explained, stepping aside as I strained slightly levering the hatch open. “Someone paid a boatload of lien to keep this little crack in the defenses open, way back in the day.”

A ladder propped against the wall was our way down into a winding little tunnel, snaking through the foundations of the wall. With the hatch cover back in place, it was pitch dark, lit only by the little torch on Roman’s scroll. I spoke up, voice hushed against the echoes of our footsteps. “So, where does this come out?”
“Farming district sewers,” Roman muttered. “Hardly anyone to see us coming out, and it’s close to the docks- should be easy to get back home from there, even with the cops all stirred up.”

“Lucky for us your boss left us close to a tunnel,” I commented, and Roman stopped in the middle of the tunnel, turning to face me, expression disgusted.
“She’s not my boss- this is a temporary arrangement, I’m getting in on this because it benefits me, nothing more! Besides, Vale’s walls have more holes than swiss cheese, I could get inside from anywhere. Master thief, remember?”

I shrugged, doubt clear in my voice. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Roman had no real response to that, muttering angrily about a lack of respect as he stalked ahead once more, leading the way to our exit.
The less said about the sewers, the better. I’d thought Westside was bad, but most of those weren’t running, and the folks at The Thorn kept their turf down in the sewers clean and clear, if not fragrant. Vale had a damn sight more people, more farming run-off… more of everything but rads. The stench was brutal, following us even after we’d made it out, and Roman’s fancy white coat was a complete write-off. Probably helped us to avoid too much attention, people see the clothes more than the person and without his outfit Roman blended in surprisingly well. That, and people weren’t inclined to get too close to us for a proper look.
Things in the safehouse were quiet, which was a good sign for sure. No cops swarming for evidence, none of Junior’s gang waiting in ambush or demanding extra pay, just Neo digging into a big bowl of ice cream, legs kicking merrily. She looked up at our entrance, smirked at our disheveled state before a breeze replaced that smile with a horrified scowl.

“Yeah, yeah, suck it up,” Roman said, finally dropping some of his act to reveal quite how exhausted he was after our night’s work. A brief scrap, a trek through rough terrain and sneaking through a set of sewers would do that- I could feel the ache in my bones, even with Aura bolstering my endurance. “Everything go to plan on your end?”

Neo hesitated, unwilling to get any closer to us, before tapping something into her scroll, sending a breaking news article to Roman, a reporter speaking about the chaos which broke out in the commercial district, a set of arrests in the industrial district and a failure to recover the stolen dust.

Roman smiled at that. “That’s perfect, Neo- no way any of them can put the blame on us?”

Neo rolled her eyes as she shook her head, acting like it was a foregone conclusion.

“Wasn’t the point of the distraction to keep Junior’s men clear? How is this perfect??”

“Wheels within wheels, kid,” Roman replied, in his usual lecturing tone. “Why do one thing when you can plan to win it all? See, I’m on the outs with Xiong, and the queen bitch is getting paranoid about loyalty. She made sure they were working for her, not me- so them getting pinched is on her, too. They’ll be out this time next week, but she’d have to come crawling to Junior and cover the cost of lawyers and bail- no way she’ll apologize, so she won’t be able to hire them on anymore. Means she needs us that bit more.”

I blinked, trying to work through the logic, figure out if this was really according to plan or just a hastily improvised justification. “So Neo got them caught? Won’t that come down on you anyway, since Neo works for you?”

“Neo’s subtle, kid. No way those idiots could find a way to blame her- ain’t that right?”

He turned to the table, where Neo had been, finding nothing but an empty bowl with the last melted traces of ice cream pooling in the bottom- she’d slipped away silently during Roman’s explanation, probably because of his gestures spreading our odor through the room.

“Uhh, right…” Roman was briefly flummoxed, before regaining his composure. “You did well enough kid. Go clean yourself up., and burn those clothes. We’ve got a meeting tomorrow, make sure you look the part.”

A scalding hot shower, soap and a rough washcloth did a world of good, although my clothes were unsalvageable. If I’d been in the wasteland it would be different- the fabric was useable for patching, seams could be unthreaded and the thread saved for future repairs; people in this time seemed a lot more squeamish about patching gear, much quicker to discard perfectly usable equipment.

I deferred to Roman’s sensibilities, taking a couple of hours before I slept dismantling the shirt and jacket and setting aside what I could use for proper cleaning, loading the rest into the warehouse’s furnace. Stung a little to see it go, if I’d given it more time I could’ve harvested more from it, but so it went- I had a fair collection of clothes, three separate sets- two now, but still more than enough for my needs.

By the time I got to sleep, it was long past morning, and it felt like I’d barely closed my eyes before Neo was prodding me awake with her umbrella. Muscle memory kicked in, and I had my gun leveled at her before I properly woke, but this wasn’t more training- instead of following up with stabs, slashes or illusions, Neo just pointing at the clock. Mid afternoon- it took me a second to remember the meeting Roman had mentioned, a moment longer to shoo Neo out before I got dressed, picking out my formals for this one.

Fashion wasn’t so far different to what remained from the old world, suits and ties and dresses cut the same as they had been, just less hard-wearing and more picky about little patches and stains. I’d kept my formals safe, for that exact reason- white suit, black shirt and a grey tie, matching Roman’s colors for now. All the better to tie myself into his little faction, avoid loading too much of a bad reputation onto my own back- not so different to packing a backup NCR uniform when I was out in the Mojave.

Once I was presentable, I joined the others in the main space of the warehouse- we’d be letting our visitors in through the front door, heavy crates and shelves of dust made for a better impression than the back door into our pokey little living space.

“Cut it a little fine,” Roman complained- he’d somehow found another coat, identical to the one now floating through the sewers, and taken the time to touch up his makeup, looking fresh as a daisy as long as you didn’t notice how he’d covered up the dark shadows under his eyes. “Let me do the talking, let them think you’re just hired muscle.”

“I thought I was just hired muscle?” I asked, prompting a jab to the ribs from Neo.

“You ain’t that easily disposable,” Roman replied, seemingly sincere. “I wouldn’t have bothered training you up or awakening your aura if you were. Long as you don’t fuck things up, we could be working together for a long time.”

I took that in silence, trying to figure out if it was true- Torchwick seemed sincere, but you don’t bother buttering people up like that if you’re not lining up a dagger for their back. Talking about training and aura like it put me in his debt didn’t help, either- definitely felt like there was something unsaid there.
Before I could say anything, Roman’s scroll chirped, and it was time to put up a united front. Regardless of where I stood with Torchwick, I trusted him more than his employers. He was just after money and notoriety, far as I could tell- whoever has him stealing dust probably had some bigger plan, and not knowing what it was spelled trouble.

As Roman hit the remote, and the big roller door cracked open in front of us, just enough for our visitors to duck underneath. I’d been expecting the pilot from last night, whoever she was, but it wasn’t so- two strangers, a tall grey-haired man and a shorter, dark-skinned woman with dyed green hair.

“Aww, Cinder didn’t even show up herself? I’m hurt!” Roman joked, an exaggerated tone of disappointment making the woman bristle. “So, she sent you two to pat me on the back and tell me what a good job I’ve done? I’ll take any praise on Lien, small unmarked cards.”

The taller one chuckled, his voice smooth despite his companions silent fuming. “Begging for extra cash after your latest fuck up?” He sneered, looking at us liks something he’d scraped off his shoe. “Are you gonna beg for help every time you run into a little kid?”

I bit my tongue as Roman laughed, gesturing at the stacked crates surrounding us. “You need to deal with your little attitude problem, kid! Two huntsmen and half the Vale PD chasing their tails all over downtown, while we loaded up with half the dust in Vale!”

“You also got most of your people caught,” the woman interrupted. “Cinder is not pleased.”

“They got themselves caught, after the job was done! You want to blame me for not powdering their asses on the way out, too? I did my job!” Roman was still grinning, the smile of someone who was getting away with something. “You can check the manifests yourself! There’s a tonne of dust here, ready for your grand plan- plus ammo, crystals, everything you could need for whatever you’ve got planned!”

He held out a clipboard, and the green haired woman snatched it from his hand- so distracted that she didn’t spot Neo’s hand darting into her pocket, snagging her scroll unnoticed. Her companion was looking right at us, not seeing anything out of the ordinary- the slightly disconcerting feeling of someone looking at an illusion right in front of you.

Both of them looked over the manifest, casting their eyes over the stacked crates. They didn’t see anything wrong, which seemed to piss them off more- the taller one looked over at me, searching for another line of attack.

“So, the boss told us you’d picked up another stray- what’s your deal, shrimp?”

“I’m just-“ I started, but Roman interrupted.

“I just needed to hire an extra pair of hands- he’s a nobody, just someone who knows how to hold a gun and keep his mouth shut.”

“Let the shrimp speak,” the grey-haired man chided.

“What Torchwick said- I’m just here for some quick cash, no questions asked.” I kept my face carefully blank, poker face not giving anything away under his scrutiny. After a moment his lip curled in disappointment at my lack of reaction, quickly growing bored.

“Proper little toy soldier,” he grumbled, turning to leave, his companion following with an irritated huff. “This is just a start- the boss lady’ll want twice as much by the end of the month.” Before they could leave, Neo tapped the woman on the shoulder, holding her hand out expectantly.

“What? Oh, right,” she handed over the manifest with barely a second’s hesitation, reaching out to ruffle Neo’s hair as she did. I braced for a sudden explosion of violence, but it didn’t come; not that Neo was happy about that little insult, but she didn’t complain, taking the opportunity to slip the stolen scroll back into place instead.

“Run along now, kids!” Roman called after them, one last little jab as they left, before turning to me and Neo.

“You don’t know what their plans are?” I wasn’t sure if I was asking him or just saying it, in disbelief. “You’re working for these people and don’t even know what they’re doing?”

Roman raised a hand. “Don’t take that tone with me, brat. Queen bitch had me over a barrel – has us over a barrel. ‘Do as I say or get burnt alive’ kind of deal.”
“You can’t take her on, or get away?” I eyed him dubiously. He claimed to be a master thief, damn near shouted it from the rooftops, and he couldn’t wriggle his way out of this mess?

“Take her on? Not a chance in hell, kid, you saw the kind of artillery she was throwing around. And I didn’t get this far by letting any idiot with more firepower than brains run me out of town!” He struck a little pose, like some victorious general from a statue.

“So you’re doing as she says instead?”

He deflated at my unimpressed question, shooting me a dirty look. “This is only temporary, I’ll be back on top soon enough. We just need to figure out her scheme, throw a spanner in the works and take whatever she’s after, leave her holding the bag!” He grinned, slightly manic. “Trust me, kid, I know exactly what I’m doing!”

*****

Cinder frowned at her scroll- or rather, at the smouldering hunk of plastic which was all that was left of it. Junior Xiong was an insolent cur, and she would make him pay in screaming agony for daring to speak to her like that in time, but the needs of her mission had to come first.

“Is the pawn still co-operative?” she asked, not bothering to turn and look as Emerald and Mercury made their return. She liked her little chess metaphors, seeing all her minions in their proper place flattering Emerald and Mercury as knights but making sure they knew who their queen was.

“He’s obnoxious,” Emerald complained. “You don’t need him, I could steal the dust we need!”

Mercury took the opposite side, as was his nature. “He might be an asshole but he got the job done. Saw the product with our own eyes, all accounted for.”
Cinder permitted herself a smile, as she turned to face them. “Excellent… he’ll prove an adequate tool, and when the time comes he’ll be an easy pawn to sacrifice. What of his new accomplice?”

She remembered the wiry little man, looking like he was barely ready to finish combat school- nothing impressive, except for how empty his eyes were as he unloaded his little pistol at Ozpin’s little lapdogs.

“Seems like just another dime a dozen mercenary,” Mercury scoffed. “Not much going on up there- I could take him, easy.”

She considered that. “He’s loyal to Torchwick? Our plans don’t account for a bodyguard, we may have to remove him, discreetly”

Mercury shrugged. “He said he was just there for the money,” he began, before his grin took on a sharp edge. “But it’s safer to put him down, cut out any complications.”

Emerald had been quiet, her face thoughtful- letting herself be edged out of the conversation. That wasn’t so unusual, she held her silence when conversation veered away from her areas of expertise, but Cinder knew that a little personal attention now would keep her going for days.

“Emerald,” she began, gratified by how the girl hung onto her every word. “when the time comes, I trust you can arrange for this newest piece to be taken off the board? I know I can rely on your discretion…”

“O-of course!” Emerald responded with an entertaining eagerness. “It’ll be just as you say, I can do it!”

Mercury’s grin slipped, just a little, at the prospect of an easy kill being snatched away from him, but Cinder didn’t let it bother her. He was there for the money and entertainment, and she could keep him satisfied with both for as long as he was useful.

Every piece was falling into place, and soon, she would be unstoppable.

Chapter Text

Roman’s little revelation about his boss didn’t really change much, all told. The difference between doing a good job for someone out of loyalty and doing the same job as cover for subversive intentions isn’t that big, as it turns out. We’d got the dust, now it was just a matter of letting the heat die down and organising our loot. Brief moments of excitement, spread out among long weeks of boredom. I was crawling up the walls, and it didn’t help that the others took the edge off by sending me off on petty errands, looking after the warehouse and heading out (in disguise, of course) to pick up little bits and pieces when Neo was too tired or didn’t feel like going to the effort of putting up an illusion.

I hadn’t been so happy about that, to start; seemed like a dumb risk to take, but Roman insisted that it would be fine. “I’m one of the most wanted people in this town, and nobody looks twice if I change my coat and hat! People don’t pay attention, kid- and you aren’t half as notorious as me!” He chuckled at that, proud of his fame. “Besides, if you keep moping around here like a bad smell you’re gonna bring the rest of us down. Get some air, buy some shit- don’t do anything stupid, and keep away from the rich bastards up northwest and it’ll be fine!”

Maybe that shouldn’t have been enough to convince me, but I wanted to be convinced- after months in Vale, I wanted to see more than just the same four walls day in, day out. I slipped on a rudimentary disguise- wig, sunglasses, and a hooded jacket with some kind of mascot drawn across the front, it seemed too simple compared to what I’d had to do to pass as a member of the Legion or NCR back home, but folks here weren’t as sharp- didn’t need to be, with their walls and cops and huntsmen between them and the world. “Fine- what did you say you needed me to get? More food, smokes, and ice cream?”

“And buy yourself something nice, kid,” Roman added, with a patronising little smirk. “You need a scroll, at least- I can’t have you running around off the radar because you grew up as some kind of weird luddite!”

I didn’t correct him on that- it just caused trouble if I insisted on the truth of my situation, it was easier to let him assume. He’d been a little off since that evening in the forest, hiding it behind his usual mask, but something about what I’d told him made him wary. It made him feel better to believe that ‘coming from the past’ meant some kind of backwoods tribe, and it was no skin off my nose to keep my mouth shut.

The trip into Vale was quiet, at first; not the sort of quiet from a burned out homestead, or an abandoned settlement, just… quiet. Not many people out and about in the industrial district, this late in the day on a weekend. There were only a few folks out and about in the streets, and it was easy enough to avoid them- I didn’t want to test my disguise so early, where it could lead people straight back to the warehouse.

There were a couple of wanted posters, my mugshot from Vacuo staring from the walls alongside Roman and a few unknown lowlifes, but that was just in the industrial districts. Closer I got to the residential, the nicer the neighbourhoods got, the less posters there were. Sheriffs didn’t want to remind people they didn’t have a lid on things, they’d always prioritise keeping people comfortable and complacent over getting their job done. Picture they had for my wanted poster wasn’t so good either- I’d been pretty sandblasted, tanned from the Mojave and Vacuo both, a little roughed up after getting smacked around by that giant snake. Even without my disguise, I was a shade or two less tanned, skin clearer after Roman unlocked my aura, less bruises and pockmarks. That helped with my nerves more than a little, and I started to understand how Roman could get out to the Xiong club to hire on Junior’s boys when his face was splashed all over the news broadcasts.

Residential was nice, in a sort of anonymous, impersonal way. Hanging baskets of greenery, painted doors and window shutters on tall blocks of apartments. Probably took a hell of a lot of water to keep the greenery going, but they were rich enough here to spend those resources frivolously. I kept my eyes forward, ignoring the concrete canyon surrounding me- wouldn’t be a good idea to draw attention gawping like some mojave tribal seeing vegas for the first time, and it wasn’t so different to Freeside, if you ignored how clean it was, how orderly, the lack of guns or blades on the average person’s hip and the shortage of giant rats fighting off hungry street kids, or street kids fighting off hungry giant rats.

I wondered briefly if I’d ever go back, given the choice. I wasn’t some kind of primitivist, wanting to go back to scattered tribes barely getting by in the wilderness- things were better here, even with the constables looking to put me in a cage. But I’d left unfinished business behind, and the closer I came to leaving the past in the past, the more the scars in my skull itched, the more I felt the lack of weight in my pockets, where a bar of gold should’ve been, where my shotgun should’ve been hanging over my shoulder.

The chance to go for a walk had left me in an odd headspace. I’d been running in place, focused on the job and on keeping an eye on Neo before she took another swing at ‘training’ me- now I was outside, nothing to do but walk and ruminate, and those missing parts of myself itched like a phantom limb.

The crowds got thicker as I got closer to the commercial district- it was a weekend, something folks around here took as a couple of days of rest, so people were out shopping, buying trinkets and walking hand in hand as couples and groups. Set the hair on the back of my neck to prickling, I’d never seen so many people in one place outside of a military base, militia or legion camp, but nobody even spared me a second glance. People were less suspicious here, for sure. Relied too much on their walls and constables to keep anything which could threaten them out, and there were just too many people around to give newcomers the right level of suspicion.

The commercial district was a whole other sack of rats- where the houses were an anonymous kind of nice, flowers and painted doors, the shops were a riot of clashing colors and lights. A brassy noise set my teeth on edge and my hand grasping at the space where my shotgun should’ve been hanging, eyes locked onto a looming securitron, until I took a breath, recentered myself and saw the source of the din, an arcade covered in flashing lights, big boxy cabinets with glowing screens, a woman- definitely a traveller, going by the heavy backpack she carried, and probably a huntress by how easily she carried it. In training, at least- she was around my age, and Roman had mentioned there’d be students waiting for the academy to open it’s doors.

I’d stopped in the street for just a hair too long. People flowed like water here, crowds subsuming the individual into just another part of the group, but that only lasted so long as everyone kept moving, or got out of the way; I’d fit in well enough as long as I kept the pace, but now I was a rock in the stream, and that drew unwanted attention. Skinny, with a pink streak dyed into his hair, loitering in the entrance of the arcade, sharp-eyed; looking at me with something like curiosity, an unwarranted interest. Suddenly, the crowd which had made for my camouflage felt like walls hemming me in, even as the sharp-eyed kid turned to say something to the redhead- the machine she was at flashed red, a harsh tone and flashing demand for more lien marking the end of her game. She turned, didn’t look at all irritated by the interruption, and as her companion spoke quietly to her the grin on her face was replaced by a look of cheerful determination as she began scanning the crowd.

It probably would’ve been smarter to run, or find some other way to disappear into the crowd, but I froze up- the crowds were too thick, my breathing wasn’t coming right, air wasn’t filling my lungs right, like I was sucking down the cloud in the Madre once again. I started away, pushing through the crowd, stumbled as something caught my food- bear-trap scars on my ankle flaring, the memory of pain burning damn near as bad as the first time through. Kept my footing, cast my eyes around the crowd- everyone too close, no space for me to catch my breath. I could hear people talking, distantly, concerned exclamations, and a hand on my shoulder, steadying me as I gasped for breath. I batted it away, but they were persistent, pulling me away from the crowd- after a moment, everything started to float away, like a grey haze smothering the memories, leaving them distant where they’d been painfully present just a moment ago. It wasn’t natural, like a shot of Psycho through my brain, just inverted, narcotic waves of calm bludgeoning my panic down into submission.

It was embarrassing- I’d run into some trouble before, shortly after making it out of the Madre, but I’d thought it was all behind me, put myself back together- even in the Wasteland, I’d had it under control, and now here I was, an easy life in a safe place, and all that weakness was rushing back in. The second thought was of the hand on my shoulder, the voice speaking softly in my ear- I’d let my guard down at the worst possible moment, and the bastard who’d spotted me had pulled me out to into the lee of a building, crowd flowing past us, his redheaded companion acting as a lookout to make sure the crowd kept flowing around us. If they were looking to collect a bounty, things were going to get messy as soon as I made a move- fighting would cause the kind of collateral damage I didn’t want on my head, even if I brought my pistol to bear before they could react.

Even as I was spiralling through the possibilities, that grey, enforced calm kept me from acting, at least until the stranger took his arm off my shoulder and the haze receded. Now that we were stuck so close together, I couldn’t help but make out more details- the strange cut of his clothes, didn’t match what I’d seen in Vale or Vacuo- cut like a tailcoat, with sleeves just flared enough to hide something, sort of thing I’d expect to see on a crooked Caravan player or someone trying to sneak guns into a fancier casino- I figured he had something hidden on his person, if he was a traveller like his companion- she had a heavy grenade launcher hanging from the side of her backpack, sort of thing that worked hell for leather as long as you had something lighter to back you up- dark haired one must’ve had some kind of pistol or carbine to deal with anything that got too close to send a grenade into.

“Are you recovered?” Almost a monotone voice, tinged with the barest touch of concern- it didn’t fit the image of a bounty hunter out for the price on my head, set me off-balance. “My semblance can help with… bad memories.”

“It’s fine,” I managed, breathing under control, looking to get away before trouble found me. “I’d better get going-”

Before I could make my excuses and leave, the redhead cut in. “You’re new in town too, aren’t you? At least, you’re not much into the crowds- it’s a lot to get used to, isn’t it? We just got here a few days ago, this old huntress lady got us a recommendation for Beacon- are you applying? You look like you could-”

The outpouring cut off when her companion put a hand over her mouth, stemming the tide. “Nora, please give him a moment.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “We saw that you were looking a little… lost, thought maybe we could help? We’ve been in the same situation…”

I almost laughed- god save me from good samaritans trying to stick their oar in! “I don’t need any help, just picking up food and supplies for my family,” I refused, borrowing an excuse from a past life. “Nothing interesting-”

“Oh, do you know where we can get the good syrup??” The redhead burst back into the conversation, enthusiastically interrupting me. “Ren makes such great campfire pancakes, but it’s impossible to get good syrup on the road!”

“Can’t say I do,” I tried to shut that down, pushing myself to my feet and shouldering past them- The man, Ren, stepped out of my way, while Nora just looked crestfallen as I skirted around her. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine, really!”

I left them behind without a second look, getting myself oriented with the little map on my scroll- not as good as a pip-boy map, but I was used to making do- and heading to the store, shopping list at the ready. The whole thing had left a sour taste in my mouth, and I just wanted to get my chores done and back home for a smoke and a chance to rest and recover. I’d never felt much sympathy for the Brotherhood of Steel, mouldering in their bunker, but all of a sudden the urge to go to ground and wait out whatever pursuit was behind you made perfect sense- I wasn’t going towards anything, wasn’t hunting down Benny or preparing to shelter from the next battle of Hoover Dam. No wonder my demons were catching up with me, in a state like that.

Roman’s papers were good, at least, and I picked up the cigars without incident, beyond a knowingly raised eyebrow from the shopkeep as I dumped the tubs of ice cream on the counter and asked for the cigars from their case behind. Set a paranoid niggling in the back of my mind, but she didn’t comment; I might’ve been imagining things, still off-balance, or she just knew that Roman sent people to her store on errands and didn’t much care. After covering the others, I still had enough for a pack of smokes- cheap, unfiltered, closest I could get to the Wasteland’s finest- and some chewing tobacco. Didn’t have the taste for it, myself, but I’d made a few useful remedies from coyote tobacco, it was way past time I started figuring out how to refill my stocks of remedies with local supplies. Wasn’t much chance of finding Xander root here, of course- I detoured to a local store, bought a book of plants from a bulky man with impressive sideburns, hurrying directly back to the safehouse from there.

Roman and Neo were lazing around in the living space, around the table with a big scroll powered off between them, apparently having done nothing of any use while I was away- Neo didn’t even bother to stand and help pack away her ice-cream, although Roman had the good grace to claim his cigars with a grin and a tip of his hat. “Thanks, kid- saves me the effort of putting on a disguise or convincing Neo to go out!” He cut the tip off one, already sparking up- I did the same with my own smaller cigarette, while Neo shot us both a dirty look and made herself scarce before the smell could fill the room.

“This city makes me nervous,” I admitted, grumbling a little. “Don’t like having so many people around.”

Roman shrugged that off with a smirk. “Don’t be a wimp, kid! That was half the point of this- so you could see how blind all the civvies are!” He puffed on his smoke, made a broad gesture with the lit cigar in his hand. “You’ve been hanging around here like a bad smell! How am I gonna trust you to get jobs done without me holding your hand if you’re afraid to poke your head outside?”

I coloured at that, nettled a little. “I’m careful, not afraid! After the last job went south like that, can you blame me?”

“You’re in the wrong line of work if you want to be safe and careful,” Roman retorted with a lazy grin. “Especially with the queen bitch breathing over our shoulders, you’re gonna need a solid steel set of balls to make yourself worth my time!”

I took a long drag, frowning, let out the tension in my frame with a billowing cloud of smoke. “So you sent me out because you wanted me out of here?”

“That, and I was running out of cigars,” Roman nodded, unrepentant grin on his face.

“This after you had me stuck in here for weeks because the cops were out looking for me?”

That embarrassed Roman a little, at least. “You might’ve got yourself pinched,” he defended himself. “And there was work to get done here- so what if I exaggerated the risk a little? No harm, no foul!”

I might’ve argued the point, but I wasn’t dumb enough to think that would be winnable; the usual issues of arguing against your boss aside, I didn’t think there was anything anyone could say to break Roman’s shell of self-satisfaction. Stubbing out my smoke, I headed to the showers to wash away my frustration.

*****

A few hours before that little spat, Roman and Neo were clustered around a scroll screen, watching a little arrow navigating a winding route through the streets of Vale in an uneasy silence.

“This should show us if the kid’s trustworthy,” Roman said, more of a monologue than anything else. “If he’s working for Cinder, there’s no way he won’t go running to mommy to tell her how disloyal we are- and he definitely doesn’t know enough about scrolls to fool our little tracker. I still don’t know where he’s come from, but the kid’s definitely some kind of yokel, you can’t fake being that bad with technology. He starts heading to one of Cinder’s safehouses, you intercept and cut that little thread- he doesn’t, and we can be pretty sure the kid’s trustworthy!”

Neo rolled her eyes at Roman’s smug satisfaction in his plan, only half paying attention to the screen, running a whetstone along Hush’s unsheathed blade with steady motions. The Courier was following the expected route so far- since they warned him off of taking the trams or buses, he was moving slow enough that she’d be able to catch him easy as a cat pouncing onto a particularly stupid rat.

Roman took her indifference as a challenge to the genius of his plans, of course- that, or an excuse to further elaborate on his genius. “He can’t really afford to wait- Cinder has no patience, and she doesn’t trust anyone she can’t keep tabs on. If he’s spying on us for her, he must know she’d burn him for delaying- and if he was working for the hunters, he wouldn’t have taken those pot-shots at little red. I’ve got all the angles planned out!”

Neo shrugged, kicking her feet a little in anticipation- she was more than ready to hunt through the city, pick off their new companion if he turned out disloyal. As unfortunate as it’d be to lose her new training dummy, there’d be other opportunities to hone her edge.

Roman suddenly quieted down, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the screen. “Why’s he stopped there… could be a place to meet them, but then why’s he just staying outside?”

Neo wordlessly hopped to her feet, sheathing her blade into it’s umbrella disguise and giving it a quick twirl, seeming every inch the carefree young woman out for an afternoon stroll, so long as you ignored the glint of bloodlust in her eyes.

“Kid’s by the old arcade,” Roman said, all business. “Should be a camera I can crack there…”

Roman made a lot of hay out of his savvy with computers, as if he wasn’t just relying on half the cameras in Vale being unsecured, easily snooped on by anyone with a scroll and a few minutes to search the web.

“He’s just sitting there, talking to a couple of people- nobody we’ve seen around the boss, looks like a couple of kids…” Neo casually put a hand on the door handle, ready to get moving.

“Hold up!” Roman interrupted. “Kid’s headed away from them, looks like he’s in a hurry… if he was reporting back, it probably wouldn’t have been out in the street like that. Can’t be sure without knowing who those two were…” he gave a frustrated grunt at that little wrench in his plan. “Hell… We can’t take him out without being sure.”

Neo tipped her head, glancing down at the weapon held loosely in her hand, and Roman gave an irritated grunt. “Fine, you little pedant, we can take him out, but we shouldn’t. It’d be a waste anyway- just need to figure out another way to make sure of him.” Roman cut the connection to the camera server as the pair who’d accosted his newest minion wandered off the frame, shot Neo a look which promised doom if she was too smug about his scheme going awry. “Hey, no plan is perfect. At least we know he didn’t dump the tracker- next time you can just put a bug in his scroll, record whatever he’s got to say and deal with that as it goes. I’ll give him a little free reign, get him out in the city, and then we just need to keep tabs on him- nice and easy!”

The next few days might’ve been tense, if Neo weren’t as inscrutable as she was, and if Roman wasn’t quite so practised at bluffing. Despite the failure of the first attempt to test his loyalty, the Courier didn’t seem to have any suspicions, taking advantage of his newfound freedom cautiously at first, heading out at night and when the streets were at their emptiest, ranging out past the walls through the little smugglers tunnels Roman had shown him in the aftermath of the dust store job. It would’ve been easy to get negligent, but Roman stayed strong, sending Neo to shadow him whenever she had no other business to attend to- all the kid did was wander through the forest, checking a little guidebook and occasionally digging up some plant or another and stowing it in a backpack. Dull to watch, duller still to go through the pictures Neo would take each time, but Roman wasn’t ready to trust the kid just yet, splitting his time between filling his pockets, keeping Cinder sweet and trying to come up with a foolproof way to test the courier’s loyalty once and for all.

Chapter Text

Things quieted down, in the usual way of things; minor jobs, casing out the docklands and checking delivery schedules for the little independent dust stores which dotted Vale. Hard to get used to going out into town, I was constantly expecting to see the blonde hunters who’d nearly punched my ticket on the dust store job, or the green-haired doctor who’d dragged me out to this town in the first place. Constantly felt like I was being watched, the low-grade paranoia of eyes prickling at the small of my back, the crowds felt like they could hide anyone. Enough to keep me sharp, but I did my best to fit in, not looking too twitchy or jumpy, avoiding the flashing lights and discordant sounds of the arcades for fear of running into the strange pair of trainee hunters again.

That didn’t quite work, though; I was working when they next caught up to me. Nursing a cup of coffee and a sandwich at a little cafe, sat out in front where I could keep an eye on the place we’d robbed a few weeks back, see how the reopening was going and how much stock was being brought in. I didn’t like the risk, but I was best placed for it; Roman would stand out even more, and Neo was on some kind of secret job- I figured she just didn’t want to waste her morning staring at a quiet little dust shop. Not enough blood or excitement for her.

So there I was, enjoying the sun and pretending to read a book as I watched the shop, sipping at the coffee they sold here; less kick than a proper mojave brew, but it went down easier. I’d spotted the pair, redhaired woman and her skinny companion, but it wasn’t worth blowing the job about; I just kept my head down and hoped they’d pass by, they didn’t seem to be looking my way after all. Kept my head down, eyes on the book to avoid making contact with them. The scrape of the chair opposite me dragging against the floor set my teeth on edge, let me know that I’d been spotted; as I looked up from my book, I saw the redhead, straddling the chair, big beaming grin on her face.

“Hey there, stranger! I was wondering if we’d bump into you again, you ran off so quickly last time- I guess you had someplace to be, but now you’re just relaxing, so we can talk!” She let out a little laugh at that, but before I could get a word in edgeways she was speaking once again. “I’ve never been here before, is it good? This cafe, I mean- Rennie’s getting us some food, I hope they have good pastries, like with the little sugar dusting them?”

I finally managed to cut in, looking for the right words- to get her to leave, but not to cause any fuss. Wouldn’t do to draw attention, any more than this enthusiastic visitor already had. “Hi there… Nora, right? I was just reading, so…”

That was when Ren arrived, a tray with a steaming teapot and plates of snacks piled onto it- enough to feed a small army, I was surprised he could carry it all so easily. Nora’s eyes lit up- almost literally, like I could see arcing electricity behind her eyes- and the tray had barely hit the table before she’d bitten a croissant in half, crumbs spraying. Her companion, Ren, quietly took a seat, pouring himself a cup of tea, every action perfectly controlled- they made a bizarre pair, completely opposite.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, speaking quietly. “After our last… encounter, I thought we should make sure you were doing alright. Vale can be a difficult place for newcomers.”

That set me off-balance, paranoia blaring in the base of my skull. “What makes you think I’m a newcomer?” I asked sharply- had they been watching me, or had I shown some tell?

Nora gulped down her food and answered. “Hey, it’s alright! Just- you were a little twitchy around crowds, and you keep looking at the city walls- I was the same at first, when we went through Mistral, it’s a big change coming into a city!” She flashed another smile- it didn’t ring true, like she was masking something. “You said you had family here- did they come into town recently?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said flatly, trying to shut down that line of questioning before she started prying for too many details- it worked better than I expected, a heavy silence falling for a beat, even Nora’s habitual grin falling, replaced with an expression I couldn’t quite place. It was a surprise when Ren broke the silence, I’d pegged him as the quieter type.

“That book… Herbal and Folk Remedies of Sanus?” I eyed him cautiously, and he kept speaking. “It’s worth reading, but I prefer Bushcraft and Survivalism, by Phenoma Peach? I could lend you my copy, if you’re planning on spending time out of town.”

That was, surprisingly, a potentially useful suggestion; I’d been considering a trip further out of town, a chance to test myself against the local Grimm and make sure I hadn’t lost my edge with all this city living. “Sure,” I said, before I had a chance to second-guess; might’ve been some kind of scheme, a way to get me in his debt and enforce another meeting for me to return the book, but I didn’t have a good enough reason to refuse without seeming suspect.

Behind the duo, a lorry pulled up outside the shop, hardshell cases being carefully unloaded and carried through. Each one would hold about a pound of dust, held in carefully cushioned and stabilized conditions to keep them from blowing the first time the truck hit a pothole. I kept myself from staring as I made my count- about a score of dust cases, no crystals, sundry parts and a big stack of magazines. Insurance must’ve paid out, and business must’ve been good to cover this much in a weekly delivery.

Nora caught my distraction, and while Ren seemed content to sip his tea quietly she turned her head, craning her neck as she tried to figure out what had caught my attention. The truck was pulling away by then- offloading only took a few minutes, any longer would block traffic- so Nora just saw the dust shop, door swinging shut as the owner stacked shelves. He’d hired on an assistant, probably a huntsman student by the look of the weapon on her belt, and she was loading the dust with practised movements. It’d make another robbery there harder, at least for the few weeks until Beacon’s term started and the students found their days filled again.

Nora probably wasn’t thinking along those lines- she just noticed I’d been looking at a dust shop. “Ah, are you interested in dust weapons? I wasn’t into it, ‘cause dust is so expensive, but once I took the plunge I couldn’t resist!” She giggled, the grenade launcher she’d had last time conspicuous by it’s absence- probably they’d found some place to stay, left their bags and arms behind. I might’ve thought it was careless, going unarmed and trusting the walls and sheriffs to keep them safe, except I could see that Ren had a pair of pistols slipped up his sleeves, and Nora honestly looked like she could hold her own unarmed, especially with aura blunting any blades or bullets.

Nora kept talking, and I let it wash over me; it helped my cover to be part of a group, and her enthusiasm wasn’t so bad, with Ren there to moderate things a little. She went into a fair bit of detail, with sound effects as she discussed her weapon (not just a grenade launcher, asit turned out, but also a maul for close encounters- somehow, the idea of her using high explosives as a bludgeon didn’t surprise me all that much. Wasn’t so different to some of the ballistic fists I’d seen, rows of shotgun shells going off set all along your knuckles whenever you hit someone hard enough, and the folks using those didn’t even have aura as a defence if the glove got damaged enough to backfire and mangle their hand.

Nora paused, eyes sparkling, and I realised I’d been thinking aloud, lulled into a false sense of comfort by the familiar, friendly energy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, I heard some girl with shotgun bracers totally tore up one of the clubs in town! They seem like a cool weapon, but if you’re punching things they’re gonna get punched anyway- with Magnhilde I can hit stuff further away, and smash harder too!” She demonstrated the principle with a bread stick, miming a hammer blow, and something in me just broke- I couldn’t hold back my laughter, cracking up in a way I hadn’t since I was in the wasteland, a complete outburst which must’ve taken a full minute to recover from, breathing deep and wiping tears from my eyes. It hadn’t even been all that funny, just a dumb, enthusiastic joke.

Nora was preening a little, looking triumphant, and even Ren looked a little more at ease. “Sounds like you needed that,” he noted drily.

“I guess,” I tried to keep the smile off my face, regain my composure. “I’ve been under some stress, you know? I had a… something I needed to sort out, and now that’s turned out to be completely impossible, and I’ve just sort of fallen into this other job…”

it was stupid, admitting that much, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be getting into details, but it felt good putting voice to some of it. Cathartic. The sort of thing I would’ve said to Cass over whiskey, to Veronica or Arcade if I was looking for actual advice instead of a chance to bitch about the hand I’d been dealt. I’d missed it more than I realised, that loyalty; I did like Roman, and even Neo, but I didn’t trust them like that. A lot easier to trust people when your enemies were so obvious, raiders and legionaries and smug bastards from out in Vegas; I was still out of my element here, even after months of adjustment.

R en was looking at me, veiled curiosity in his eyes, wanting to know more but thankfully not pushing. “ I understand that, having unfinished business… It’s important to keep moving forward, though.” He took a sip of his tea, voice sympathetic; e ven Nora was quiet, letting the moment sit. “ Have you spoken to your family about all this?”

I shook my head. “We’re not that close,” I admitted, before knocking back my coffee and standing. “I have to get going, but… I appreciate the company.”

“Wait!” Nora burst out, hurriedly scribbling something onto a napkin. “Our scroll numbers. If you want to talk, or if you need any help- we’re gonna be training as hunters, so you’re in good hands!”

I said my goodbyes, hurrying off, tapping my notes into my scroll while the memories were still fresh- dust quantities, timings of the delivery, number of people and type of vehicle, anything which could be usefu l. Roman was planning more of a heist than a smash and grab job, he’d been talking about artistry and setting standards higher- his pride had been nettled something fierce, chafing at being ordered around. Ironic, that he was channelling that into more dust robberies.

T he rest of the day was my own, once I’d sent off my report to Roman- I stopped by the warehouse to pick up some spare gear, and made for the tunnels out of town. Needed to clear my head, after th at conversation, and I wouldn’t be able to do that surrounded by Vale’s walls and crowds. I forged through the undergrowth, getting further out from the city limits, my scroll’s signal gradually dipping as I got further away from the central tower. I made it out to a hilltop, got the lay of the land an d double checked my book- certain trees in the forest were good for sap, sticky and antibiotic, good for dressings and easy calories . Apparently tapping those trees was one of the most basic lessons you’d learn on a survival course, since it was so versatile- I had some thoughts on how I could make it a little better for patching up injuries, a few roots which were apparently a decent antibiotic . It’d be harsher, sting like buggery, but better than picking up an infection and having to amputate- this was my first attempt at a local version of healing powder, and I wasn’t looking forward to testing it .

M y eyes were down, looking for the little shrubs I’d be digging up, purple petals around a little disc of spiky seedpods. That was my mistake, getting too comfortable out in the forests, letting my guard down- that, and going further o ut to find the right kind of tree to tap, out in the Forever Fall forests a few hours hike north. Either way, I was way out in the sticks, spile hammered in and jar slowly filling when I heard the low growling.

I hadn’t seen any Grimm in a long while, only pictures on scrolls and in textbooks; another dubious perk of city living. If I was properly prepared, I’d have set myself up better, knowing I’d be in the same place for a few hours w hile the jar filled, spread some tripwires and toe poppers around. Anything to keep from this exact situation, a dark yao-guai lumbering out of the undergrowth, little red eyes narrowed and glaring.

I t was ten paces away from me, in a lumbering run- seven paces by the time I cleared leather, six when the first bullet cracked into it’s bone mask. I’d loaded my own rounds, bigger slugs propelled by some of the better dust from our earlier heists, but I might as well have been trying to stop a freight train by spitting. I’d have sworn if I could afford to waste my breath- four paces away, building speed. I lost my footing as I dodged left, leaving my heavy backpack where it lay , turned the stumble into a roll and caught my balance as the Grimm smashed the tree behind me to flinders, it’s roar almost drowned out by the splintering sound of tearing lumber.

I t was close. No time to aim, not much need to- I sent five slugs into it’s side, fanning the hammer, rewarded with bursts of black, misty blood. More of an irritation than a wound. It didn’t even turn to face me, just threw itself sideway, using sheer bulk and momentum as a weapon- it’s shoulder could’ve pulped half the bones in my body, crushed me against one of the trees hemming me in. Would’ve, if aura didn’t have it’s say- reaching back blindly, I managed to drive my fingers into the wood behind me, yanked myself up and over it’s mass, kicking off the tree bare seconds before the bear shattered through it . Landed facing away from it, already running- takes time to turn around, when you’ve got that much weight moving in one direction. Now I had the distance, and more important, I’d got to my bag.

S ome things, you keep on your person- your gun, spare ammo, enough food and water to make it back home. What you keep in your bag, you think you can get away with leaving behind- and if the Grimm had been as slow and lumbering as it looked, I might’ve. It was hellish fast, though, running away would’ve seen me a red smear on the ground before I made it thirty steps. Same for my pistol- reloading the revolver would’ve taken too long. I tore the bag open, leather strap snapping under the strain, and grabbed a heavy glass vial. The Grimm rounded on me, favouring it’s front right leg- the shots into it’s side had damaged the shoulder, slowed it down a touch. It growled, teeth bared, and I threw the vial of dust.

T here were twinned cracks, the glass breaking and the unstable dust within igniting. Nothing fancy, just fire dust, but you get a flammable powder spread into the air and set it off and you’ll get a damn fine boom- a wave of heat and force sent me skidding back, forcing me to turn my head and protect my eyes as my aura flared against a light spray of shrapnel. As the smoke cleared, I snapped the cylinder out of my revolver, pocketing the spent shell casings as I snapped a speedloader into place, more overpressured dust rounds. I took a deep breath, the smell of sap, burning wood and scorched hair filling my lungs , feelin g the adrenaline slowly drain out of me.

Clawing it’s way out of the smoke, slow staggering steps, the Grimm smouldered angrily, oily black smoke rising from it’s form. Thing was a mess, bone mask cracked and angry red tissue showing through the shredded skin on it’s front- should’ve been dead, but some things are just born without any quit in them. I steadied myself- had enough time to make this shot count, with the beast weaving it’s way forwards like a punch drunk boxer. Mask was cracked, and I lined up my sights on that weakness- first shot sent out s hards, cracks spreading like I’d taken a hammer to a clay pot. I thumbed back the hammer as it let out one las t exhausted growl, and put it out of it’s misery, bullet finally shattering the mask and punching through the meat behind it. It slumped, body sublimating into a foul black mist.

W hole fight had taken maybe half a minute. What had been a small, peaceful clearing was like something from back home- smoke rising from smouldering trees, grass burned b lack and shards of glass scattered. There was a quiet clinking as the bullets lodged into the beast dropped to the baked mud, the body finishing it’s slow dissolution. If I hadn’t had aura, I’d have been dead a dozen times over- but if I’d been keeping sharp, I’d never have been snuck up on like that in the first place, or caught without a proper weapon out in the wilderness. Deathclaw could’ve cut me open and worn me like a sock puppet if I’d been so unprepared back home- and blowing through half my dust supply in desperation wa s nothing like a sustainable strategy.

I kept up the stream of recrimination and analysis the whole way back to Vale, as the sun dipped low and the shadows stretched long. Trip was wasted anyway, my only jar crushed under a giant bear and blown to hell b y my improvised explosive- I tried not to let that bother me too much, since I wasn’t sure if irritated pique counted as negative enough to attract Grimm. That got a little easier once I reached the more familiar terrain closer to the city walls, my scroll buzzing as the signal strength picked back up- by then, I was more focused on looking forward, figuring out how to stop things from coming so close to the wire again. A proper shoulder arm was a must, something which packed enough punch that I wouldn’t be facing down a mostly uninjured Ursa with an empty pistol in my hand. Pistol whipping would cover me from raiders or cops, but it was a pretty pathetic defence against anything bigger and sharper than a regular human. It was tricky- against someone like Neo, someone with aura, the size of a rifle would be too unwieldy once they closed up, and they’d likely close fast, but against Grimm or someone with strong aura I needed more firepower.

I wondered how other folks dealt with that- the girl from the smash and grab had a big rifle, some complex mechanisms to swing it into a polearm and the speed to dash away from anything that got too close. The other man, the hunter, was swinging fists- must’ve been some trick to that, if he was going out to fight Grimm unarmed, probably some kind of Aura trickery which I doubted I could replicate. Nora had been talking about her grenades, big explosions and a big hammer, another weapon which shifted to deal with whatever got too close to shoot. Probably helped that Ren was there with his smaller guns, better positioned to deal with more... human attackers. Roman and Neo weren’t much help; his cane and her umbrella, both were good for keeping hidden and dealing with the people we’d face off against on the job, not so good for fighting off the monsters of the world. Fine weapons for the city, but that felt… limiting. City walls like a cage. I stepped back into the city, the familiar dark passage, mind full of plans and questions.

*****

Flames crackled, White Fang fighters groaned in pain or lay ominously still , and Adam Taurus silently seethed as the human made her offer . It was painfully transparent, the same carrot and stick bullshit he’d seen from the more manipulative mine supervisors- ‘take the money and dust, be our pet, or all your people burn, and you with them’. He wasn’t going to be manipulated, treated like an idiot, but this woman was making enough of a show of strength to paper over that deficiency. Strength was the first virtue, and that she was outdoing him stuck in Adam’s craw like a bitter pill.

Around the camp, his troops lay scattered like broken toys. The fight must’ve been brief, he’d only heard a few second’s shouting and gunfire, but there wasn’t a man or woman left standing. Must’ve been a trick to it, but he couldn’t see it, couldn’t figure out how the three before him had torn such a swathe through them. He reluctantly lowered his blade, sheathing it in a practised motion- it didn’t make him any less deadly, dust charges in the scabbard ready to launch the blade into a lethal cut the instant she let her guard down. She took that as a victory, he could see the shift in her eyes, but he wasn’t fooled by any appearance of relaxation- she was ready to act, with her blades and her semblance, and he wasn’t going to take any risks with his troops in such a vulnerable position, especially after their most recent losses.

“Let’s negotiate,” he ground out, trying to keep the bile out of his voice. “I’m not sending my people to die for a human cause.”

She smirked, the cat that caught the canary. “ I told you, Adam, our plan will be beneficial for both of us. Just… think of me as a sponsor. I can give you resources, local experts, everything you need to start your revolution , go beyond hiding out here in the woods with a few footsoldiers.” Her eyes flickered, flames dancing in them, a touch of madness in her grin and her gaze. “We’re going to change the world, Adam.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Neo and I huddled in the cargo compartment, surrounded by crates of fresh fruit and veg, some meat and sacks of flour- I’d have expected better preserved stuff, pickled or canned or irradiated or something, but apparently the folks at this facility had a taste for the finer things in life, got resupplied often enough for the fresh stuff to be worthwhile. They had some other supplies incoming too, dust and machine parts- it would’ve been a nice little payday if we’d nabbed the dust, with all the shortages in Vale it was the most I’d seen in one place for a while, but this job came first.

It had been almost embarrassingly easy to stow away on the vertibird, between Neo’s illusions and the depot’s lax security. Neo had wanted to just deal with the pilots, use illusions to take their place and bluff our way into the facility, but I’d managed to argue her out of that plan- we didn’t know what security there was, if they’d be able to and I didn’t know how to drive one of these vertibirds. She’d been sulking silently ever since- somehow I could just tell this silence was more pointed than her usual mutism.

At least she was still willing to keep us covered with her illusions, enough that we could leave our hidey-hole to stretch our legs and keep limbered up. The details of what we were getting into were still unclear- not like there were any windows in the cargo hold, no way to get a look outside before we arrived. We made do listening in on the pilots chatter- they were casual, no sign that they knew this was anything beyond a routine delivery.

“So Rod, any luck with that lad from out in Lower Cairn?” One of the pilots, blue haired and bearded, asked his copilot.

“Nah,” The redhead, Rod, replied, forced casualness in his voice. “You know how it goes, stuck on base half the time and heading out on these supply runs all the time, makes it hard to get together. Made him feel neglected, like I want to be out delivering groceries to the middle of nowhere all the time!”

“Don’t let the eggheads hear you whining like that,” his companion chuckled. “Those Atlas bods get real stuffy about folks talking shit. Besides, at least we get overtime for it! Buy him something nice, he’ll come around!”

After his little rant, Rod seemed a little more relaxed about his woes. “I hope so- I won’t miss this assignment when we get rotated, boring as hell running this same route. Bots give me the creeps too… Say, how’s your old lady doing?”

I perked my ears up when he mentioned the bots, a hint as to what we’d be dealing with on the way, but they changed the subject quickly, Blue talking effusively about his wife’s photography, and their kid doing something with noodles at school- didn’t make much sense to me, but my schooling had been a little more informal than they liked around here. There was probably some link between macaroni art and the big huntsman academies, I just didn’t care enough to figure it out.

The trip carried on like that for hours, the pilots occasionally chatting as Neo and I did our best to keep warm and ready to move when the time came. There was a little excitement when the pilots spotted some kind of Grimm, banked to strafe it with the vertibird’s miniguns and set the cargo shifting and straining against it’s tethers, but they levelled off and flew straight afterwards, dispiritedly grumbling about regulations on how far they could detour when the beasties ran off. They stuck to the flight path the rest of the way, as far as I could tell, hour after hour of tedium with brief pauses to worry every time one of them left their spot in the cockpit to stretch their own legs or use the privy. Neo’s illusions covered for us well enough, as long as we stayed silent, but it was still damned disconcerting seeing folk’s eyes just pass right over us without any reaction. The first time, I couldn’t resist the urge to palm the handle of my as-yet-unnamed pistol, but after a half-dozen times I grew desensitised to the whole thing, simply trusting in Neo’s illusion for safety.

I reckon the only thing more dangerous than the possibility of the pilots spotting us was Neo’s growing boredom- she settled down comfortably enough for all of ten minutes, her patience fraying quickly as she went from a comfortable seat against a crate to impatiently pacing in the cramped confines of the cargo hold, the quiet sound of her footsteps against the metal floor setting my teeth on edge even as the rumble of the engines kept anyone untoward from overhearing. She ducked back into place quickly enough whenever one of the pilots left their seats, but the constant movement stopped me from properly relaxing into the quiet stupor which set hours flying by in the blink of an eye. It only got worse from there- pacing pacified her for maybe an hour, then another while she spent with her eyes fixed on her scroll, watching some video on mute- when I tried to glance over her shoulder she turned the screen away from me, sticking out her tongue- before boredom overtook her again and she returned to pacing, this time drawing her blade to swish it around, fencing with imagined foes.

It wore on my nerves something fierce, expecting someone to notice the noise or movement, or for the distraction to leave her setting up the illusions which hid us a moment too late when the pilot’s eyes turned our way. If there’d been a camera in the hold, I don’t think we would have made it, no way; even if Neo had the aura to keep an illusion going full-time without breaks, she didn’t have the temperament for it. We’d have had to take out the pilots, and bluff our way through in their place.

My nerve was pretty frayed by the time we overheard the pilots radioing ahead, giving their security codes and receiving instructions for which landing pad to touch down on. Didn’t seem like they suspected anything- ideally we’d be able to slip out when they were unloading, have the run of the place for as long as the vertibird was there, lay hands on something good and sneak back aboard to hijack the heavy transport before anyone knew what was up. With Neo’s illusions, it was going to be simple- we stood by the loading ramp as the vertibird touched down, ready to get clear as quickly as possible.

Instead of the bored porter or dockworker I was expecting, the lowering ramp revealed a metal man. Not a securitron, more like someone in power armour- except under the bulky breastplate was more metal, pistons and hydraulics going deep enough that there was no way a human could be piloting it. Red lights shone from their faceplates and chests, and their gaze tracked across the cargo hold as Neo and I stood stock still behind the protection of her illusion.

“Reading Unexpected Thermal Signatures,” one ground out in a synthetic voice.

“Triangulating,” it’s companion echoed back, same toneless synthesiser, as they took up posts at the hold’s exit, like guards. Neo shifted her blade in it’s sheath, and I rested a hand on my holstered pistol, ready to draw at a moment’s notice, not quite ready to open fire until I was certain we were caught.

“Damn bots, what’s the matter with you?” One of the pilots arrived, Rod the redhead, stepped past us, the illusion keeping them from noticing us as he passed within a hand’s breadth of me. The droids seemed to refocus, as if they’d been confused or distracted by the interruption- I’d seen similar with a damaged Mister Handy back home, where it had to reboot it’s sensors to get rid of ghosts in the machine. I took the opportunity, grabbing Neo’s hand and getting clear of the hold, hoping these bots would be confused in the same ways at the ones back home. I thought we might get away with it, as their faceplates scanned the hold once again and the pilot waved some sort of ID card in front of them.

“Lost Contact With Unidentified Heat Signatures. Scanning. Scanning.” The droids ignored the pilots, who were still trying unsuccessfully to get them to unload the crates from the vertibird, and instead turned in unison to scan the landing pad, red light following after us as we hurried to the nearest obstruction, rolling off the raised edge of the landing pad to take cover in the lee of the concrete. That was a little dicey, since Neo’d drawn her sword, and I nearly got a second belly button in the tumble- hopefully accidentally, although the daggers she glared at me as she yanked her arm free from my hand set a familiar fear in me, a reminder of her unique training methods.

After a few more moment’s swearing, and a metallic clang, the bots stopped their scanning, marching in lockstep into the vertibird and emerging with crates clasped in their hands, one of the pilots shaking out an injured hand. Now that we had a moment to breathe, I could get my bearings, scanning the facility for the first time- what I saw wasn’t particularly encouraging. They’d kept the landing pad clear, of course, but even the surroundings didn’t have the usual clutter of spare parts and equipment to repair the vertibird after each flight- not much cover at all, if we were going to get clear without relying on Neo’s illusions. Didn’t know how wide the bots’ thermal scanners were, either, but my instincts screamed that they’d be broader than expected. The facility was split out across a few buildings, flat roofed, a canteen, living space and a pair of bigger buildings, rolling garage doors facing onto the same courtyard they’d centered the landing pad on.

I spent too long considering, and Neo’s patience ran out. She poked her head up over the lip of the landing pad, and I heard a strangled yelp from the vertibird, one of the pilots saw something nasty, called for help. The bots abandoned their crates, lowering them to the ground before turning and marching back to the cargo hold, and Neo rushed off, taking advantage of the distraction while I ran hot on her heels, sticking close enough to stay under the dubiously effective umbrella of her illusions. Her distraction worked, to an extent- by the time we heard the tinny, echoing voice synthesizers announcing the bots’ return to work, once again scanning the landing pad with their watchful glass eyes as they lugged the crates along. I couldn’t see the pilots, had no clue what shook one of them up so bad, but it had done the job- I breathed out as the side door swung shut behind us, hopefully that would be enough to keep us safe for the moment.

We found ourselves in some kind of warehouse- big rolling door for deliveries, shelves just waiting for resupply, kept cold enough to set my breath There was nobody in, fortunately, and I could see the tension bleeding out of Neo as she dropped the illusions around us- she’d never admit to it, but I could see how badly the strain of near-constantly maintaining her illusions had worn on her, the way she took each brief opportunity to drop them. The semblance was a drain on her aura, and having lower aura slowed her down- I wasn’t sure I’d be able to rely on her if it came to a fight, not the way I normally would. Better to keep things quiet, then.

There were three ways out, far as I could see- the door we’d just came through was out, same as the delivery entrance, both would just put us square in sight of the bots. Most of the windows were too high to get through easily, and smashing them would make enough noise to attract attention, so that was a last resort. The only alternative was a door set into the opposite side of the main floor- either a backdoor, or more likely an office of some sort. Even we kept up an inventory, and this was some kind of government project- there’d be enough red tape to strangle a deathclaw, and enough paperwork to bury the thing afterwards. There was a keycard scanned blinking next to the door, but it wasn’t an issue- someone had put a prop under the doorjam, keeping it just a little ajar. Someone got lazy, or lax, didn’t want to go to the effort of scanning their card every time they came through- lucky for us, we got into the little office space nice and easy.

One thing which always threw me off about the new world was the lack of paper. Your average office should have a fair few filing cabinets, desks strewn with loose pages and files, all the necessities of admin- this was a small, uncomfortably sparse space, just a table with a terminal on it, a little metal radiator belching out heat, and a little clutter on the desk, half-full glass of water and a couple of little decorative figurines. Terminal was still active, so I tapped on the screen, paging through looking for some kind of manifest- we were here to rob them, so we needed an idea of what we were going for. It was a good thing that I’d spent so long doing the busywork back in the Vale safehouse, since it meant I could scan through the manifests pretty quick, before whoever was meant to be working here returned.

“Food and perishables here, cleaning supplies in storeroom B, spare parts direct to the primary workshop… Here’s something!” I pointed out a detail to Neo, who gestured impatiently, a ‘get on with it’.

“Those bots we saw had regular guns, but there’s a stockpile of twenty mil- heavy stuff! Looks like it’s being stored near the gatehouse, workshop D. We should check that out..”

Luck is nice, but it always runs out at the worst time. A lady in a labcoat stepped through the door, kicking the doorstop back out of the way, her eyes widening at the sight of us. Neo wasn’t quick enough to throw up an illusion, too distracted looking over the terminal, and the scientist went for some kind of radio clipped to her belt, getting tangled in her long coat slightly, just long enough for me to clear leather and draw a bead on her centre of mass. At this range, the shotgun spray of my pistol would damn near cut her in half.

My finger was on the trigger, I could practically see the end result in front of me- it wouldn’t be my first time using a shotgun in such close quarters, against an unarmored target, and it was never a pretty sight. Two things stopped me, both completely practical- the retort of a gunshot would draw as much fire down on our heads as this scientist managing a cry for help, and I could still remember Roman’s tedious lectures about reputation, leaving the right impression. Taking this job was already a dangerous risk, a bloodbath would raise the profile unacceptably. Besides, she wasn’t armed- pulling the trigger wouldn’t have sat right.

Instead, I stepped forward, crossing the space quickly. It had taken a split-second to draw, scarcely more to slip my finger off the trigger, and panic had made her hands too shaky to get a proper grip on the radio. I swung with the pistol, heavy chunk of metal knocking her hand away and cracking the plastic case of the radio, sparks and wisps of smoke rising. She still seemed ready to shout, but by then Neo was there, hand covering her mouth and a vicious grin on her face. The scientist let out a strangled squeak, quiet enough that I wasn’t worried, and then collapsed bonelessly as Neo bludgeoned her across the head with her umbrella.

“We should go,” I said, the sound of metal footsteps echoing behind us as the bots clanked their way into the main storehouse. “Folks will already be on edge… we need to figure out what the weapon is, and how we’re gonna get that cargo vertibird out of here.”

Neo nodded, eyes scanning the little office space. There was no other way out, just the door we’d come through, and the bots were already in the way there. I nabbed the scientist’s ID card, winced as the radio started letting out a little whining sound and tossed it across the room in case the power cells were about to cook off, and readied my carbine to cover the door. Fingers crossed, the cold would help muddy the droids’ scanners long enough for us to get out, assuming Neo could keep up her illusions long enough- she’d never admit to that weakness, but her aura had to be dangerously low by now. Ears pricked, we listened to the bots movements, waiting for them to return to the cargo vertibird for the next load of boxes.

Once the moment came, we seized it, moving as one. The big door was open now, a warm breeze coming into the storehouse, the redheaded pilot leaned against the doorway having a smoke as he supervised the bots, grumbling under his breath.

“oh, I just need a few minutes to update the manifest, can you watch the knights for a second? Pain in the ass, how long does it take to press a button…” He put on a falsetto voice, imitating the scientist who’d (as far as he could tell) left him in the lurch.

That muttering covered the sound of our footsteps, and we were almost free and clear, on the approach to the doorframe when he let out a billow of smoke, spread by the breeze along with his frosted breath. Neo screwed up her nose against the smell, keeping up the illusion of an empty space where we were, but something tipped him off regardless, and he reached out, waving his hand through the space where the smoke had vanished. With a crunching sound, like thin glass crushed under it’s own weight, the air shifted and shattered into shards, the pilot’s eyes widening and the cigarette falling from his mouth as he began to shout.

The butt of my carbine thudded heavily against his jaw, laid him out- not unconscious, but out of commission for the moment. His copilot was nowhere to be seen, but the bots were quick to react, swivelling to face us, red lights glaring from their blank faces.

“Intruders. Identiy Yourself.”

A crate dropped to the concrete of the landing pad, wood splintering and apples rolling like marbles as the bot’s hand dropped away, a gatling gun jutting out of the stump of it’s arm. Neo was already on the move, ducking to minimize her profile as she fled towards the workshop I’d pointed out. I was a few steps behind her, stock of the carbine tucked into my shoulder as I snapped off a shot at the droid.

First time firing my new weapon in anger wasn’t so different to the target range. Recoil was heavy, a slight spark of aura taking the blow to my shoulder, and a fist-sized hole appeared a touch below centre mass, a gut shot sparking and spewing smoke. The retort of my gunshot was answered near-instantly, a fusilade from the droid’s arm cannons blasting through the open door into the storehouse, shattering glass and tearing metal. Something hit me, like a jab from a heavyweight boxer to the ribs, and a flattened bullet caught in the crease of my coat, smouldering angrily. The damage was enough that it couldn’t turn to track me as I fled, leaving the pilot whimpering as he crawled into cover.

Neo had made some distance on me, bursting through a window into some kind of staff canteen. There were shouts of alarm, white coats fleeing as combat bots began to flood in. The other one from the landing pad levelled a pair of guns, but didn’t open fire, almost seeming to hesitate, before once again some mechanism in it’s arms jerked a new weapon out, a pair of curved blades. Then it was dashing forward, and I was barging past some engineer, hot on Neo’s heels as shattered glass crackled underfoot and panicked civilians scattered. She hopped a counter, and I followed into a kitchen, nearly running straight into a bot waving a pair of blades menacingly. She lashed out with the umbrella, parrying and ducking under the blades, and I followed up with a shotgun blast, the recoil setting my revolver bucking against my wrist like a bronco even as the robot staggered back across the room, collapsing into a sparking, oil-spewing heap. I swore under my breath, turning my wrist slightly to work out the kinks from firing the hand cannon one-handed, and rammed the revolver into it’s slot on my carbine, a clicking sound from the mechanism sounding out as they conjoined.

From the kitchen, there was a service path of sorts, couple of big dumpsters. I skidded around the turn, clapped my eyes on one hell of a sight- some kind of firing range, crates and sandbags laid out in a facsimile of a street, and more than a dozen bots ahead of us, looking down from the top of stacked containers and peering from between them. Behind us, the tramping of metal feet was beginning to drown out the sound of panic as the droid caught up, pincering us between the two.

Neo glanced at me, a manic grin on her face, and took off running, directly at the mass of bots. They opened up, a storm of bullets scattered across the open ground, ricochets pinging off the tarmac and sending shards of stone and metal flying like tiny blades, bouncing off Neo’s umbrella and my aura with pinprick impacts. We couldn’t afford to stop, being pincered between this ambush and our pursuers would be a nightmare, so I forged on in Neo’s wake, taking pot-shots as I went; against a flesh and blood opponent, it would’ve sent some of them ducking into cover, but the bots just stood there like bottles on a fencepost, dropping with each bullet, each sparking wreck another tiny lull in the blizzard of metal we were wading into. I could see Neo’s aura flashing, close to breaking point, and I wasn’t much better off when we finally made it to the dubious cover of the range. I reloaded the carbine- a full magazine, plus three rounds of buckshot left in the revolver. Not enough to deal with their numbers, so I fixed my bayonet.

While I was wasting my time behind the sandbags, Neo hadn’t missed a step, launching herself forwards like a deathclaw at a steak, blade jabbing at robotic faces, joints, whatever weak points lay exposed. The droids tried to turn to track her, one of them stitching a line of bullet holes in it’s comrade as Neo used it as a shield. Behind us, the blade-armed bots rushed in, crossing the open space which had drained so much of our aura, and I sighted down my rifle, their nice predictable movements letting me place my shots at will, each round downing another droid, fifteen rounds taking fifteen metallic skulls, thinning the herd down as they reached me. Bayonet punched into the first one, the weight of the rifle and aura-enhanced muscle tearing a hole through thin sheet metal, then a blade swung for my head, a clumsy overarm swing forcing me to dodge, shoving the transfixed droid on me bayonet back a pace before I got my legs under me, kicking off the metal corpse to get some distance.

I shifted my grip, firing the underslung shotgun and blowing the leg off of one, recoil sending the butt of my rifle into the glass lens of another, shattering it. I was isolated and surrounded, the bots moving with a strange cohesion, like flock of crows mobbing a cazador- left them almost equally spread, no weaknesses in their formation but no particular strength either. I picked a direction, deeper into the range, and made my move, charging before they could take the initiative; shot shell took one, bayonet tearing wires from the throat of another, and I was gone before they could regain their rigid formation. A bot fell nearby, toppling from a shipping container as Neo smirked over the edge, exhaustion clear in the set of her shoulders and her unsteady footing- the staccato report of automatic fire had since been silenced, presumably at the point of Neo’s blade.

We had our breathing room, as long as we kept moving, so all that was left was to locate whatever cannon they were stocking ammo for, and clearing out as quick as we could. For a moment, as we ducked through the faux alleyways, I thought we might get away clean despite the opposition. The bots weren’t as tough as they should’ve been, only effective in numbers and barely able to make that count against Neo’s mobility or my firepower. That was when we clapped eyes on the target.

It was a thing of industrial beauty, a gunmetal grey hunk of steel and guns, like an NCR tank on legs. Couldn’t think of a better toy to pay off the White Fang- big and flashy, too big and flashy for them to use anywhere near us. I could live with them ambushing schnee convoys a few dozen miles away with a big mechanical walker, if that’s what it took to keep them in line in Vale. Only problem was transporting the thing.

“How are we gonna shift that?” I asked, turning to Neo- to the conspicuously empty space where Neo had been moments before. I whirled- no signs of any struggle, she must’ve slipped away of her own accord for some reason. I reloaded, scanning my surroundings as I stepped towards the inert behemoth. Seemed oddly exposed, which set my teeth on edge, like I was a radroach heading towards a poisoned hunk of meat.

The trap, when it was finally sprung, was as simple as ambushes come. Some bushwhacker stepped out of cover, a big woman with some sort of cannon axe cradled in her arms. Red hair, obviously dyed, red warpaint and a red sleeveless jacket- the sort of thing hunters wore to advertise their trade, if their weapons and attitude didn’t give it away. She had eyes on me, which was a concern- I was in no shape for a real fight. I had to hope that Neo was already lining up an ambush, as I faced this huntress, standing alone in the middle of the street.

“Think it’s about time for you to be surrendering, kid,” she said, utterly confident. “Not sure what you were thinking of, stirring up trouble here, but it’s over now.”

She took a step forward, and I shifted my grip on the carbine, ready to act the moment Neo made her move. “Can’t say that sounds like a good option for me. Any chance you’d just let me grab a little something for the road and be on my way?”

That got a laugh out of the huntress, for a moment, before her face straightened and she shook her head. “Suppose I’ll just have to beat you down and bring you in then, son.”

With that said, she charged, and I started shooting.

Chapter Text

I knew I wouldn’t last long if she closed the distance, and she moved like a freight train, so I ran after only a couple of shots sparked off her aura. Didn’t even slow her down, she must’ve been fully topped up on aura- swung the axe in a big, telegraphed swing, gave me just enough time to stumble out of her arc and off to the side. She was between me and the mech, and the ground around it was open, bad for a fight. I needed cover, rough terrain, so I fell back into the little faux urban firing range.

The narrow alleys were safest, bounded on each side by reassuringly solid steel shipping crates- bad ground for swinging a big heavy weapon. If I could keep this huntress hemmed in, I could land a few blows, keep hitting and running until I could wear her down, drive her off or open her up for Neo to take a shot- assuming Neo hadn’t just cut and run. I hopped over a sparking wreckage, droid with deep gouges cut through it’s face, neck, and gut, and turned, glancing over my shoulder. Huntress was silhouetted, made for an easy target, and as she raised her cannon I put my last round of buckshot into her knee, ruining her footing in a blast of shot and shrapnel.

“Not bad,” she grunted, still grinning. “But not good enough!”

The huntress slammed her axe down in an overhead swing, shards of concrete flying as she buried it in the ground, mechashift clattering as the barrel widened and grew longer- my eyes widened for a split second, time almost slowing to a crawl as she pulled the trigger, and with a hiss of ignition a burst of fire and metal exploded into the alleyway. I ran, jumped, driving my knife into the steel container with a screech of complaining metal- even as I yanked myself up out of the line of fire, the shotgun blast and heat battered my legs, aura sparking and flesh bruising. I reached the top of the container, stumbling on shaky feet, winded by the hit to my aura. I tugged my pistol down, a pin in my carbine flipping it down so I could get at the cylinder- no time for a proper reload, so I just tugged the thing free and slid a replacement cylinder into place. Four new shots, and as I snapped it all back into place I felt the ground underfoot bucking. Kept my feet, turning to face the huntress as she clawed her way up the platform I was on. Must’ve weighted half a tonne, between her heavy equipment, armour and sheer mass- the thin corrugated metal of the container dipped alarmingly, weakened by our scrap. I fired on instinct, aiming for the eyes, gun jerking with each shot and aura flashing with each muzzle flare. She soldiered through, flattened buckshot tinkling off her face as she loomed over me.

“Just give up, kid,” she spat, grudging respect in her voice. “You can’t win this fight, it ain’t worth getting yourself hurt over.”

I stayed quiet a moment, drawing things out. Her aura seemed unassailable, while the droids had already worn mine down- I was tired, while she seemed fresh as a daisy. If I could just keep chipping away at her, maybe I could win… but one good hit from that cannon would end things. The longer we spent talking, the better.

“So what if I surrender? What then?” I kept moving as I spoke, looking for any angle- there wasn’t any cover here, and if I dropped into the maze of alleyways below I’d have been an easy target from above.

“You’re in deep shit,” the huntress said frankly. “Probably gonna cop some jail time, but you ain’t killed anyone. It’s not the end of the world, you’ll be out in a couple of years- less, with good behaviour!”

“You know a lot about the system,” I narrowed my eyes, still circling around, looking for an opening. “Personal experience?”

“You ain’t heard of me?” The barrel of her cannon didn’t waver, still aimed at me. I’d probably survive if she pulled the trigger, but I couldn’t be certain- I figured she didn’t know either, else she’d have taken the shot already. “I’m Redgrave- I was stood right where you are, once upon a time.”

I tuned her out after that- every recruitment pitch started with that same line, drawing an equivalence, pretending we’re all on the same side. If what she was saying was true, Redgrave had sold out, taken a government job and got herself sent out into the middle of nowhere. Not a deal I was inclined to take for myself, if I could help it. I gave a little grin, seeing my opportunity, as she loosened her grip on the cannon, just a touch.

“Alright,” I conceded, taking a hand off my gun, raising the muzzle to rest over my shoulder, nonthreatening, maintaining eye contact. “Let’s say I did want to-”

She’d fallen for it, looking me in the eyes, not watching my free hand. My fingers closed against cold metal, and I dodged as I threw.

There’s several types of dust- some form naturally, like fire dust, get mined out, others are made in labs or workshops. Mix up fire and water dust just right, for instance, and you get steam dust. The canister I threw bounced off the metal floor between me and Redgrave, jostling the firing pin and setting the whole mess off. The canister deformed under the pressure, exploding into chunks of metal after a moment as the steam burst free, blinding both of us in a thick fog. The cannon roared, muzzle blast powerful enough to punch a hole through my smokescreen, but by then I’d got clear, making a break for it, sound of vertibird engines growing louder in my ears as I ran.

The ground around the mech was clear, too open for me to last long, but it’d take time for Redgrave to reload, hopefully long enough. Vertibird was close now, engines whining loud, and I hoped to hell I’d put my bet on the right runner. I scurried behind the mech, taking cover behind the trunk of one enormous leg. No fire followed- presumably the huntress figured I was cornered, no need to risk collateral damage when she could just wander over at her leisure and pick me off with the axe. I dared a peek, saw Redgrave on the approach- grin was gone, finally, looking frazzled and irritated by the unexpected steam bomb. Probably couldn’t stall things by pretending to consider surrender again, but then, I didn’t need to.

The hook was slung low, almost scraping the concrete of the ground as the vertibird flew overhead, pitching and yawing until it settled into a drunken hover overhead, shifting in the air. Redgrave was hit hard, the hefty chunk of metal catching her off-guard, smashing into her shoulder with sparks of aura- before she could recover, I was climbing the mech, scrambling to the top as quick as I could. Hook swung close, and I grabbed for it, aura tanking the impact of stopping the cargo hook as I clutched it in my arms, grinding against the gun slung across my chest. I could tell I was going to have some strange bruises from that, but I ignored the pain, the tightness in my chest, looping the hook through a loop and securing it as best as I could. Lucky these things seemed designed to be transported by air- even so, the engines on the cargo vertibird gave a deafening whine, struggling against the load as the heavy cable of the towhook strained and struggled. It lurched, near pitching me off as the mech was gradually lifted. Redgrave was running, and I raised my weapon. She did the same, cannon shot like god’s own blunderbuss, spray of shot ricocheting off hard planes of the mech and filling the air around me with noise and fire. Aura broke, blood spraying from my leg- a glancing hit from an artillery piece, blood spraying through the air, pain flaring. Gripped the cable as my leg gave way, firing one-handed, inaccurate, hit one shot in three maybe. Leg was bleeding bad, but I could run on adrenaline for a little while, long enough to patch myself up. Healing powder would do the job, but this was the first real test of my bodged-together alternative.

Antibiotic plants were easy enough to find, but staunching bloodflow was harder. Couldn’t find an alternative to xander root, so I picked something a little harsher. Wrapped my arm around the cable, steady as I could get myself, reached into my jacket. Thick dressing, adhesive, powder- I didn’t bother pulling the sodden fabric of my trousers away from the site of the injury, just slammed it into place. Pain whited out my vision, first from the impact, then intense burning- the fire dust had sparked from the impact, not enough air to make a fire but enough heat to burn the wound closed. Hurt like nothing else. I almost lost my footing, basic survival instincts kicking in, white-knuckle grip on my lifeline. By the time my vision cleared, breathing deep, we’d picked up a fair amount of altitude, vertibird picking up height and the cable being slowly winched in. Adrenaline was ebbing away, pain creeping in, bone deep.

Vision was hazy, but I could see well enough. Redgrave took another shot, but between the range and the angle it didn’t do any more damage, nothing more than a graze of shrapnel catching my shoulder. Amount of dust I had hidden in my jacket, and with my aura broken, I was lucky it hadn’t touched off an explosion- without the protective shell of aura, I felt more vulnerable than ever before, weaker. Below me, the perimeter walls, heavy guns shifting their elevation as they tried to draw a bead on us. Before they could swat us out of the sky, fireballs- Neo must’ve been busy, planted the bombs before stealing the vertibird. Put a gaping hole in the wall, too, a scattered handful of droids reacting like ants swarming a brahmin. Not enough of them to fill the breach properly, we’d cut a swathe through them. Huntress was down there, I could just about make out- the big cannon and bright red hair stood out like a sore thumb.

I hadn’t worried much about the Grimm for a long while. Only seen a few of them, never massed in any real numbers, and they hadn’t been much more dangerous than the wasteland’s animals. But even deathclaws hunt in packs- a half dozen of them working together could drag near anything down, even yao-gui or power-armored Brotherhood zealots. The wolf Grimm weren’t as tough as deathclaws, but there were dozens of them, and they weren’t alone- Ursas, the huge bear Grimm, were dotted throughout the horde like rocks in a river, acting as a seamless part of the horde. There were even some radscorpions mixed in, the Grimm equivalent at least. The bots were emptying their guns, slowing the tide as leading Grimm were injured and slowed, while Redgrave’s cannon blasted canister shot through swathes of them, picking off the bigger Grimm with each shot.

They weren’t doing enough, just barely- the distance was closing, and the heavy guns on the wall were scrap. It was perfect- no surviving witnesses to what had happened here, nothing to point to my involvement. As we drifted over the swarm, I wriggled out of my jacket, shoulder crying out in pain as the rough canvas scraped over my shrapnel scar. Shallow, but it was a bleeder- something to worry about later. I picked my moment, vision swimming, and launched it in an underhand toss, sending it arching lazily into the middle of the Grimm.

I’d overpacked- not enough bullets, too many explosives. Side effect of spending so much time in a warehouse full of stolen dust, and having to pay extra for each bullet to keep things quiet. So when my coat hit the ground, the impact touching off the dust-bombs and cartridges stuffed into the pockets, the explosion was... significant. I tried not to picture what would’ve happened if I took a solid hit with my aura exhausted- that could’ve been me in the middle of that pyre, if shrapnel from the cannon had hit the wrong place on that last shot. The impact on the grimm was satisfying, though- they didn’t have any aura to defend themselves, so the fire, steam, icy shrapnel and electrical discharge cut a swathe through them, the middle of the horde collapsing in on itself as it lost the weight of numbers behind the leading edges. The defenders kept up their weight of fire, driving the rest back, slow but steady. My vision hazed over, and it was all I could do to stay conscious, completely focused on keeping my perch as the vertibird flew off and my platform swung and swayed beneath it.

I don’t know when we landed, how long it was- long enough that the cold had crept in, bone deep, my arm numb around the cargo cable. It wasn’t the worst state I’d ever been in, but I hadn’t felt this tired and injured since I was a child. As the mech hit the ground, jarring me awake, I stiffly shifted my arm, slipping free and painfully landing on the dirt, bad leg jarring painfully. I’d need to give it more attention, once we were somewhere safe, but the dressing was holding for now, bleeding had more or less stopped. I staggered clear as Neo brought the vertibird to land, taking in our surroundings- a forest clearing, sparse trees surrounding us, light enough to keep a decent sightline but dense enough to keep us more or less hidden.

She looked almost as bad as I felt- not injured, but certainly exhausted. Blinked at me, eyes darting to my injured leg for a moment, the thin trails of smoke which still rose from the dressing, before she eyeballed the mech, and her face broke into a big grin. I couldn’t help it, despite the pain and exhaustion, how close we’d come to being caught or killed. I burst out laughing, almost hysterical, gasping for breath as the built up adrenaline and tension broke like a tripwire across a doorway.

There was more to be done, of course- Neo cracked open the cockpit of the armor, made sure it was completely powered down, no radio or CCT trackers, and I cleaned my injury properly, cutting away the fabric where it had melted into the skin of my leg, used a needle and thread to tidy things up as best as I could and cut a decent length of wood as a crutch, stumping along to help Neo out. We got the heavy armour better secured, looping cable around as a harness- written on one of it’s panels was the name, ‘Atlas Paladin-290P’. It would be tricky to move by air, the vertibird had complained more than enough on this short hop- thing was made to carry full shipping containers, but there’s a difference between that and a denser, less well-balanced load. I pulled up a map, wrote a message on my scroll- harder to triangulate a single burst of text than a longer voiced conversation.

Job’s done, need transport near Vale Intra-Continental Highway Magenta, co-ordinates to follow. Heavy equipment and air transport on hand, pursuit currently unlikely, need land transport.

With that sent, there was nothing to do but wait- this was the last big risk, really. There would be pursuit, as soon as the situation at the facility was dealt with- they’d prioritise the Grimm over us, rebuilding the perimeter, but then they’d sweep the area for us. Hiding the Paladin would be easier than the vertibird; we’d be able to sheet it up on the back of a flatbed, stash it in a railcar or shipping container, move it around nearly with impunity. Not so for the Vertibird, it was too big for that- Roman would have to work out the details there, either forging the necessary papers or handing it off to a shell company as industrial equipment. We wouldn’t be able to rely on it long-term, but for a one-off job it’d serve; we just needed to hit the docks, stash shipping containers full of dust, and get rid of that particular piece of evidence. Too hot for the warehouse, so we’d probably be relying on the White Fang for that one- at least any blowback would be on their heads, not ours.

The waiting was tense- that brief moment of laughter faded into a sense of emptiness. Not fear, nothing particularly negative even, just a void, like emptying everything out. Usually after a big job like this, I’d have been drinking, sleeping, or brawling- blowing off steam, one way or another. Not an option here, needed to keep up our vigil until we had a good way out. Like carrying on past the stopping point, it was a test of endurance, keeping sharp through the haze of pain and exhaustion.

Our little vigil was interrupted, of course. We’d stirred up a lot of trouble, and hadn’t got far enough away from it all- the grimm were out in force, not just attacking the facility but roaming and scattering, of course some of that would splash back on us. Red eyes, weaving through the trees, dozens of them, strange lizards and wolves and flapping crows. I leaned on my crutch, shouldered my rifle, counted out my remaining shots- thirteen in my magazine, two rounds of buckshot, and a knife. Shouldn’t have thrown away the bulk of my arsenal, a handful of bombs and landmines would’ve dealt with this without breaking a sweat. Bullets and blades would be a more painful way to win.

Neo and I fell back to the Vertibird, it’s cargo ramp hanging open. Couldn’t take off, for fear of attracting the wrong kind of attention, closing the doors would just have us surrounded until the beasts could claw their way in- they’d follow the path of least resistance, but leaving a hole in our walls we could be sure they’d hit us from the front. Neo stood just ahead, blade bared behind her spread umbrella, and I steadied myself as best as possible, gun unwavering. The report of my rifle filled the space, stock jarring my shoulder as the first round flew true, taking a chunk out of a snarling wolf’s throat. The Grimm moved as one, a snarling tide, and I fired again and again, each shot another corpse thrown like a stone into a stream. Neo’s blade darted with an almost mechanical precision, like a sewing machine, blurring through the eyes and skulls of the smaller grimm as they scratched and scrabbled up the metal of the ramp. I tried to ignore it, drawing a bead on the next target, and the next after that. Their numbers were a concern, but we could certainly survive- this wasn’t a true horde, just a chance encounter. I kept reminding myself of that as they drew closer, each bullet spent another threat eliminated. There weren’t any of the wolves left, and I still had a couple of rounds left- one of them put an end to a crow, then I switched to buckshot, the pellets injuring more of them even if it lacked the stopping power to kill- broken wings and tails set them pinwheeling to the ground, not much of a threat when they could be stomped down on like a normal bird would be.

Only one round left, and hardly any so I fixed my bayonet, ready to fend them off. Neo was keeping them at bay well enough, so I stepped up next to her, each move another stab of pain through my leg, and leaned around to jab at the approaching lizard things. They should have broken by now, even cazadors wouldn’t stick around after so much of the swarm was killed, but they just kept coming. One threw itself at Neo’s umbrella, clawing it’s way up, snapping over the top with it’s sharp little teeth- I stabbed through it’s face, stumbling as the angle of attack jarred my leg, fell back a pace to get my position right. That was a mistake, a trio of the lizards surging forwards- one of them managed to latch onto Neo’s leg, teeth grinding through the remnants of her aura and drawing blood. The other two were on me- I managed to stomp on one, knife the other, but Neo was in trouble now, as the distraction let more and more of the swarm slip past the barricade of her weapon. She kicked the one on her leg free in a small spray of blood, stepping backwards as she kept fencing with the swarm, somehow keeping her footing despite the circumstances. I stepped up again, leg feeling like a length of wood, getting close enough for another stab. Carbine was too short to work as a proper spear, but in these cramped confines it was more manoeuvrable, just a damned shame that I had to get in so close to the little bastards. I couldn’t count them, they moved too erratically, crawling over each other and darting out of the way of our stabs and jabs. We were tiring, aura reserves exhausted and blood flowing from myriad little cuts and bites- none of then deep enough to bleed us out, but painful and distracting.

Of course, there are two things that attract Grimm well- active aura, and negative emotion. I still didn’t entirely trust the government line on that, but evidence kept mounting up. Another Grimm- not little birds or lizards, either, a radscorpion, standing nearly as tall as the vertibird. We weren’t in a position to fight the thing off, and scaring off a grimm was a losing bet. I considered my last bullet- wouldn’t do anything to the scorpion, but being poisoned and eaten was an awful way to die…

Before I could do anything, a new sound built in the background, a rising growl and crashing through the sparse trees. Another grimm? No, it was mechanical, like motors screaming from two metal throats.

A masked figure, bigger than any I’d seen before came crashing through the undergrowth, astride a heavy quad bike, one hand gripping a running chainsaw like an 80’s member with a ripper. Dangerous way to ride and fight, the raiders were usually too hopped up on jet ans psycho to worry about it, this White Fang probably had enough aura to keep him safe from any mistakes. Jumped free of the bike, letting it crash into the scorpion as he stumbled into a sprint, chainsaw whirling in an overhead blow, teeth grinding into the carapace. The scorpion’s tail lashed out, battering against his shoulders and head, over and over again, sparking off his aura even as the sawteeth of his weapon gradually chewed deeper and deeper, finally jerking through it’s skull in a burst of ichor, scorpion squealing as blood and black steam escaped it’s shell. He turned to face us, expression unreadable behind his grimm mask, as I crushed the last of the lizards underfoot, neo wiping her blade clean of tarry black residue.

“Banesaw,” he introduced himself, voice like gravel rolling in an iron drum- he didn’t seem at all aware of how ridiculous the name was, and I wasn’t about to pick a fight by mentioning it. “You Torchwick’s goons? See you got yourselves in over your heads.”

I eyed him, picking my words. “We stirred up more than we’d planned for,” I admitted, ignoring the sharp look Neo gave me as I admitted to that failure. “We got the goods, though. Where’s the drop-off?”

The Fang grunted. “I’ll take it from here. We’ve got a truck, you can drive that thing back into Vale, I’ll land the bullhead somewhere safe for now- we can use it when that big plan of yours plays out.” He chuckled suddenly, a low, gravelly sound. “Not that you’ll be ready for everything that one’s gonna stir up. Thieves never make good soldiers…”

He started towards the cargo ramp, looking to push past, and I stood in his way. “We’re not done until the goods are delivered. Neo can take the controls, she’s had some practice getting the thing to run with this load.”

A moment’s eye contact- his chainsaw was still running, lowly humming, and I kept a hand on my rifle, just in case. He broke first.

“Not my problem who drives,” he conceded, bending to fit in the vertibird. “Just get to the highway, we’ve got a truck parked, and hardly anyone passes by this way.”

The journey passed in silence- I sat in the copilot’s seat, trying to remember the meditation exercises to recover aura, Neo flew, and Banesaw loomed behind us. A thin trickle of power through my limbs, fragile, but enough to keep me on my feet for a few more hours- I’d take over the driving once we were on solid ground, so that Neo could recover. Our destination was worryingly obvious, even from the air- a handful of uniformed White Fang in a loose perimeter, a flatbed truck idling by the side of the road, even a stack of hastily cut logs by the side of the road where they’d cleared a landing spot for us.

The Paladin barely fit on the truck, marked with garish yellow lettering, Mauve’s Construction Rental. That, along with a heavy tarp strapped over the mech, would probably be enough to bluff our way into the city, get things properly under wraps until we had a need to use or trade the thing. Once it was all squared away, Banesaw crammed himself into the cockpit of the vertibird, taking off with a whine as the much-abused engines finally moved without the heavy, unbalanced load of the Paladin. Neo hopped into the passenger sleep, eyes drooping as she near-instantly fell asleep, and I settled in for the long drive to Vale, setting the radio to play and focusing on keeping my eyes open and the truck straight.

* ****

In a Vacuo watering hole, a hunter sipped at a tall mug of ice-cold beer, quietly celebrating another job well done, venting his bereavements to his companions.

“He seemed like a good kid, is all, and all I get is ‘He didn’t turn out to be a suitable candidate for Beacon, let us know if he decides to make contact with you’? It’s some bullshit, is what it is! Hunters should keep each other in the loop, not just foist you off like that!”

“Easy, Vance,” one of his companions said, glancing around to see if the raised voice had attracted any attention. “It’s some crap, but you know how it goes- he was basically a grown man, right? Probably just found some small town to settle down in, live a quiet life- you know how Vale is about all that stuff. Not worth getting bent out of shape about, you did alright by them, they’re definitely better off in Vale than around here even if they ain’t a Huntsman.”

T hose placating words probably would’ve worked, as they had every other time Vance’s thoughts had drifted to the unfortunate end of his association with Dr Oobleck, if it weren’t for a buzzing that filled the bar. Huntsmen tended to congregate together, so any place where one or two huntsmen teams would get together for a drink would inevitably become huntsman bars, and the Daddy Longlegs was no exception- so when every scroll in the place buzzed, it meant something was up .

Vance didn’t bother to check his, trusting in his team leader to cover the important details. “ Huh, speak of the devil… looks like something happened out in Vale, they’re offering a contract to any hunters who can get over there for security and rebuilding work. Some kind of terrorist attack, not sure if it’s the White Fang or some other bunch of assholes…”

T hat shook Vance from his brooding. “How bad was it?”

“Could’ve been worse- lot of property damage, a pretty nasty explosion, trashed a bunch of equipment, but no casualties.” The team lead, Inigo, frowned. “Pretty minor for a terror cell, didn’t even take any hostages. Looks like they’ve got an ID on one of them, too- some city gangster from Vale, she’s not a faunus, so probably ain’t a Fang op. No word on the accomplice though, ‘pparrently he kept his face covered the whole time… Kinda looks like an old-style cowboy!”

As Inigo chuckled at the anachronism, Vance finally fumbled his scroll from his pocket, thumb on the scanner as he checked the details of the alert for himself, thumbing through the written details to the few CCTV stills they’d released, all watermarked ‘Only To Be Viewed By Licenced Hunters,’ a detail that Vance would’ve been more irritated by if he hadn’t known at least three people who’d been caught trying to flirt by sharing confidential information they’d picked up on the job. His eyes widened fractionally as he saw the pictures of the suspected culprits, taken from the black boxes of destroyed Atlas knights, and he drained the rest of his pint in a single motion, taking to his feet with a face like thunder as he strode towards the exit.

“Hey, where are you going?” Inigo called after him, surprised by his silent egress.

“I’m going to Vale.”

Chapter Text

Recovering from an injury is miserable, no matter where you are- it’s a pain in an NCR field hospital, it’s a pain when you’re being carted across the desert to be arrested, and it’s a pain when you’re stuck on the sidelines of the heist of the century. If I’d been there, maybe they would’ve made less of a mess of the whole thing- White Fang goons got taken out by a gang of trainees, and then someone blew up the docks while Roman made his escape, sent the whole shipment of dust up in smoke. I’d figured Roman had arranged the whole thing himself at first, some kind of scheme to make the Fang look bad and keep the product out of the boss’ hands, but those thoughts were proven wrong when he arrived, suit tattered, hat scorched, leaning on his cane with a face like thunder, muttering angrily.

“Those goddamn kids… what kind of weirdo just walks around with an AA gun??”

I blinked, sitting up and looking him over. “You look like hell, boss,” I greeted him. “What do you mean an AA gun?”

Roman poured himself a slug of whiskey, downed it in a single gulp and poured another. Bad sign, if things were going to plan he’d have taken the time to savour it. “Plan was going fine- Security was out of commission, those animals had managed to hijack a couple of light bullheads, they even managed to get the cargo hauler in position on time without attracting attention! It was smooth as butter!”

“And then things went to shit,” I noted, looking him over- by now I could smell the burning, chemical scent of a dust explosion. “And we lost the cargo?”

“Some kind of faunus supremacist got the drop on me,” Roman admitted, and I couldn’t help but interrupt.

“I thought the faunus supremacists were on our side??”

“Nah, not White Fang- seemed like she was pissed about them working with a human, probably a weird hardliner. Got a shiv on me, and some monkey started in on the grunts- trainee hunters, probably. Aura but no technique.”

“Good enough technique to beat you,” I chuckled, only to be silenced by a sour look from Roman.

“You really think that? I coulda folded those kids like laundry, but then your playmate from the dust store showed her face, and she brought a friend.”

It took me a moment to grasp what he meant. “The one with the red cloak and giant sickle? She turned up and beat you?”

“More like her weirdo friend- she started firing off some kinda heavy artillery, took out the Fang bullheads and half the docks!” Roman took a sip of his drink, calming himself as he lit up a cigar. “Made it out with maybe a third of the take, less than a third of those Fang mooks, and more eyes on us than a whore at church!”

“So we need to lay low,” I suggested.

“I’d love to,” Roman snapped. “But if we don’t keep the boss happy it don’t matter if the cops can’t find us!”

“Time to get out from under her thumb?”

R oman considered, briefly, before shaking his head. “You don’t pull a thing like that from a position of weakness. When I turn on that bitch, I ain’t leaving any chance of her taking me down with her- we can afford to stay in the game until we’ve got the deck stacked.”

I frowned at that- felt too passive, leaving too much of the power in Cinder’s hands. Not that I was a fan of going off half-cocked, just that waiting until the time was right to act could easily last for a lifetim e. Still, Roman knew his business, and I wasn’t inclined to second-guess him too much, given his bad mood. “ Sure… so what’s the plan, there? How exactly are we stacking the deck?”

R oman gave an aggrieved grunt at that. “ Hard to work an angle when you don’t know the details of the plan- Neo’s on that right now, and I’m this close to picking up an informant in the White Fang . The boss knows she can’t rely on those assholes, and she keeps those two kids close, so if we can force her hand, burn Vale for the White Fang, she’ll need to work an angle out of the city- and she’ll need someone to run things.”

“And that’s where you come in, and sabotage things from the top down before the plan goes off?”

R oman scowled. “Maybe, if I can swing it so she takes the fall- I’m not planning on screwing myself over for the good of the city or some crap like that!” He fixed me with a look. “Same goes for you- you’re too gung-ho about this. We’re not taking this bitch down because we’re good samaritans, we’re dealing with her because she thinks she can give us orde rs. Keep your head on straight, kid!”

C inder was less than happy about how things had gone at the docks, and made that clear a few weeks later - not that she bothered to make an appearance herself, sending her two minions instead, Mercury and Emerald swanning into the warehouse as though they owned the place. Neo wasn’t there for it, Roman had been using her to cover more and more legwork while I stayed closer to home, so it was just the pair of us there to meet them. Two to two, it’d be an even fight if it came to it.

“Great, she sent the kids,” Roman said, big smile on his face, mask firmly in place as he came up behind them, emerging from the shadows of the warehouse. “This is turning out just like the divorce!”

The pair of them flinched away from him- not afraid, of course, just irritated. “ Spare us the thought of you procreating,” Emerald spat, shrugging him off and stepping away. I snapped my scroll shut, the latest inventory of dust and ammo flickering off the screen as I rose to join the conversation.

“That was a joke.” Roman stepped away, a piece of paper in his hand, smoothed it out on top of a crate to read. “And this might tell me what you two have been up to all day.”

Emerald flinched, almost imperceptibly- I doubt anyone who hadn’t spent years watching people go for their guns would’ve noticed it, a hand dipping into her pocket briefly. “What?? How-”

“I’m a professional, dear,” Roman said, smugness oozing out from behind his mask. “Pay attention, you’ll learn something. Why do you have this address?”

“Cleaning up your mess,” Mercury bit out, pride nettled. For all that he pretended to be detached from everything, Roman’s jibes were having an effect. “What’s the point of having a two-bit triggerman if you can’t plug a single leak?”

I held my tongue- if we’d been aiming to kill the man, I knew I could’ve, so it wasn’t much of an insult. Damn shame that particular avenue had been cut, mind.

“We had that situation under control,” Roman said, letting a hint of a snarl through his mask- if Tukson really was dead, a good opportunity had just slipped our fingers.

“Two packed bags and a ticket out of Vale said otherwise,” Mercury smirked, confirming that the man was dead. It had taken a fair bit of effort to convince Tukson to get out of town, between his attachment to the bookstore and his residual loyalty to the Fang.

Roman’s face darkened, mask cracking at the news that all our work had been brought to a bloody end by these two smug bastards. “ Listen, you little punk! If it were up to me, I’d take you and your little street rat-”

I nudged Roman, my sight line up above. The warehouse had a network of hanging catwalks, a holdover from when it was in real use, mostly useless for our operation. It was unusual to see someone stood on them.

Cinder must’ve snuck in the back, somehow, or in through a window. Whatever the gap in our security, she’d exploited it, getting in without either of us knowing- and, going by Emerald’s pleased shout, it was a surprise to her subordinates too.

“You’d do what, Roman?”

I had to admit, she knew how to make an entrance, wrong-footing every one of us in moments as she silently descended on a cargo elevator . Roman back-pedalled, putting his mask of servility back up. “ I’d… not kill them?”

I personally thought he was laying things on a little thick, pretending to be utterly intimidated by her, but Cinder seemed to appreciate it.

“I thought I made it clear that you were to eliminate our would-be runaway,” Cinder spoke quietly, taking advantage of the quiet her entrance had caused.

“We were about to-”

E merald interrupted. “He was about to escape to Vacuo, and Roman’s little mercenary here was nowhere to be seen! Mercury and I had to take it upon ourselves to kill the rat.”

“More like a cat,” Mercury mused.

“Like some kind of puma?” Emerald asked, leaving me with the disconcerting feeling that there was some kind of joke I wasn’t in on.

Cinder stepped up. “Quiet. Did I not specifically instruct you to keep you hands clean in Vale?”

“We thought-”

“Don’t think. Just obey.” Cinder gave Emerald a piercing glare as the girl visibly deflated, until she was satisfied the message had hit home, before turning on Roman. As for you- why didn’t you resolve the situation sooner?”

Roman glanced around, trying to look professional. “Courier, what’s our current inventory?”

I glanced down at my scroll, more for show than anything- keeping track of resources was the difference between a firefight and an execution out in the wastelands, and bitter experience had made it second nature to me. “Twelve thousand, five hundred dust rounds, pistol calibre. Ten thousand dust rounds, rifle caliber. Two thousand, buckshot. Fifteen tonnes of common dust types, and a half tonne of specialty dust. Plus a hundred and fifty crystals, varying type.”

My delivery would’ve made the most stuck-up NCR quartermaster blush, but Cinder didn’t seem convinced, so I put a little sweetener on top. “That’s the biggest civilian stockpile of dust in the city- Beacon is the only place which could have more, and they must be burning through more than they get delivered after the incident at the docks.”

Roman took my lead. “Everyone in Vale is running scared, scrambling for whatever speck of dust they can scrounge up, and we’re sitting on more than we could use in a lifetime! Whatever you’ve got planned, we’re probably ready for it- that said, if you care to share your grand master plan, it might make things go a little smoother on our end!”

Cinder seemed mollified, at least, stepping up close to Roman, laying a familiar hand on his chest- the femme fatale routine didn’t quite fit, but it was probably a good sign she was putting in the effort to mollify his ego. “Oh, Roman, have a little faith- you and your associates will be told what you need to know, when you need to know it. Besides, we have no need for more dust?”

“Excuse me?” After so long working the dust heists, robbing every store and shipping port in the city, I couldn’t help but speak out. Cinder shot me a withering look.

“Roman, keep your subordinates on a leash. We’re moving our operations- have the White Fang clear this building, I’ll send the details and co-ordinates tonight.”

“What co-ordinates?” Roman asked, honest confusion written across his face.

“We’re moving to phase two.”

With that enigmatic goodbye, Cinder left, her two employees falling into step behind her. Roman put a cigar between his lips, patting his pockets for a moment before Emerald revealed his lighter, leaving him silently fuming as they left. I lit him a match once they’d gone, looking around my erstwhile home.

“What do you make of that?”

Roman took a minute to reply, getting himself back under control, puffing on his cigar. “She wants us to move all of this crap? That’d be a nightmare to organize any day of the week, let alone with the cops breathing down our necks!” He started to pace, a habit when he was trying to work out the angles. “We’re gonna have to shift this all quickly- heavy trucks for the containers, regular runners for the rest. A faunus with a backpack can carry a couple of thousand rounds, and the dust is in containers already… I know a few smugglers who can drive it out of town, but that’ll cost a few favours, and it’ll burn this place as a safehouse.”

“You think they’ll rat us out?”

Roman chuckled, tired. “Ain’t no honour among thieves, kid. It’ll be hard enough to make sure they don’t run off with our product- a few White Fang riding along will cover that, at least.”

I started taking notes. “So we’re talking two lorries, and a dozen runners with their own transportation?”

Roman shook his head. “Six trucks- don’t want them too loaded down, and smaller ones will get by the gates easier. And call it thirty runners- they’ll need to be quick enough to get around the cops, or light enough that it don’t matter if a few get caught.” He frowned. “It’s doable, if we’re smart about organising it all and set up a decent distraction… Gonna have to burn this place down, though.”

That gave me pause- I’d spent months living here, the longest I’d ever spent in one place, and it was hard not to get attached. “So what next? Got another bolt-hole lined up?”

“Doubt we’ll need one,” Roman said, a touch irritable. “Queen bitch said she’d send me co-ordinates. That means it’s gotta be someplace out in the sticks- if it was in town, it’d be an address, not co-ordinates. Probably gonna have us sat in some White Fang camp helping them ambush some poor buggers out there.”

“Seems like you’re reading a lot into a single word.” I wasn’t convinced, it seemed like he was reaching more than a little.

“Not just one word!” Roman started pacing, striding around with his coat flapping behind him- enjoying the opportunity to explain his reasoning with a theatrical flair. “It’s true that her mention of co-ordinates was the first thing that started me thinking of it, everything else adds up! I’m certain, whatever she’s planning, it’s going to take place outside of Vale, and it’s going to use our dust stockpile to pull it off- there’s no other reason to move it all, it’s a massive security risk. Cinder wants the White Fang out of town, with our dust in their hands, but she can’t trust them unsupervised with it.” He chuckled at that. “Must be short on associates to rely on me for that- she wants those two kids to have their hands clean, probably got some kind of plan that relies on them being unnoticed… The White Fang wouldn’t think twice about turning on a human who tries to tell them what to do… I almost think she’s starting to trust me!”

“Which will make it easier to put her down and wreck whatever she’s cooking up,” I noted.

“Depends on the plan,” Roman said breezily. “If it’s profitable, no reason I can’t take it over, and if not it’s better to keep things ticking along until she exposes herself. If I’m getting into her inner circle, it’s a perfect opportunity to make a whole bucketload of lien!”

I recognised the greed in his eyes- I’d seen it in the Sierra Madre before. “Bad idea,” I interrupted his flow. “We’re thieves, not terrorists, we don’t need that kind of heat! There’s a good reason we’re going to turn on her, and it’s not just about the money!”

“We’re thieves, not idealists! It’s always about the money!” Roman snapped, taking a second to regain his composure. “Situations change, you’ve always gotta be working the angles, kid. Trust me, I’ve never led you wrong before- whatever happens, we won’t be taking the fall for it without a damn good safety net.“

I tabled the discussion for the moment, unsatisfied but unwilling to keep up a useless argument. “Fine… I’ll trust you on this, just don’t screw me over on this. You said we’d need a distraction to move everything?”

Roman grabbed the opportunity to change the subject with both hands. “That’ll be easy enough, it’s what those White Fang lunatics are best at. Just need to collect some new recruits, full of piss and vinegar, give them something big and scary, then set them loose to cause enough trouble to attrack the cops. And we’ve got just the thing!”

I knew where this was going. “You want to give the mech to some green recruits in the middle of Vale??”

“I’m not an idiot! We’re gonna give some green recruits the mech suit in the outskirts of Vale.” He turned to the map covering the wall, considering. “Gotta be the industrial district, somewhere without a lot of civvies running around to complicate things… Up on the other side of the river would attract attention away from the south wall, make smuggling easier, be close enough to the rich bastards to get a big reaction and far enough from Beacon that it’ll be more cops than hunters…”

“Costs us the mech, though,” I said, reluctant.

“Kid, we were never gonna keep the mech. What use is a thing like that to a thief?” Roman ruffled my hair, condescending. “You’re thinking like some Atlas soldier boy, trying to get your hands on the biggest guns possible. Something like that, you want to sell off- and trading it to the Fang for a little goodwill and a big distraction is a pretty great rate of exchange! Fact that it keeps heavy artillery out of those animals’ hands is just gravy…”

“So you’re gonna hold a big recruitment drive, hand over the robot, then point them up north and run everything out of town behind their backs?”

“You got a better idea?”

*****

Blake’s ear twitched irritably as Roman ranted and raved on the stage, chewing the scenery with a theatrical air. Even worse, the crowd of faunus were lapping it up, easily swayed by a few pretty words and false promises- Torchwick was blatantly racist, didn’t care at all about the struggle for faunus rights, but nobody seemed to care at all! Beside her, Sun kept up a sotto voce commentary, making fun where he could- it wasn’t much comfort, when everyone else seemed so completely fooled.

“He’s made some new friends,” she noted quietly, a short man in a long brown coat and even shorter woman with a parasol content to remain in the background, like villainous stagehands. “Something’s up…”

Her musing was interrupted with a flourish, as one of Roman’s assistants yanked a heavy sheet from it’s place draped over a huge bulk, revealing a hulking mass of metal, sloppily sprayed with the White Fang’s sigil on one great pauldron.

“Whoa, that’s a big robot,” Sun couldn’t help but comment, caught between awe and fear. It was atlesian, anyone could see that even before Roman launched into his sales pitch, talking about daring thefts and some sort of operation to the southeast. The mask on Blake’s face seemed far too flimsy all of a sudden, barely protecting her identity so close to the master thief. They’d got what they came for, there was nothing but risk in remaining.

“We should get out-”

Her whispered suggestion was cut short by a call from the White Fang lieutenant. “Will all the new recruits please come forwards!”

Trapped by the tide of the crowd, they had no choice but to approach closer, even as Roman and his minions began a hushed conference in the lee of the giant robot- Roman and the girl cheery, while the man in the coat had a frown on his face, a look of cold calculation in his eyes. It was tempting to prick her ears, try to listen into the conversation and catch whatever else they were discussing, but she never got the chance. Roman glanced out across the crowd, preening a little at the effect he’d had on them, and their eyes met across the room. Blake knew he’d spotted her by the way his smirk curdled on his face, and the hurried words to his associates.

“They see us!” Sun hissed, trying to hide his fear with a shaky smile and wave even as the one in the coat went for his weapon.

He drew quickly, almost like a magic trick, his empty hand suddenly wrapped around a hefty revolver, but he hesitated, unable to get a good shot through the milling crowd of faunus. Barely a second had passed, but they’d gone from relative safety to deadly danger, Blake’s mind working a mile a minute as adrenaline flooded her system, eyes taking in every detail as she frantically formulated a plan.

“They can’t see in the dark,” she said, Gambol Shroud in hand, firing a spray of bullets overhead. They struck true, junction box sparking as the lights failed, shouts of confusion and alarm overtaking the space as the crowd finally realized the danger they were in. Blake felt a second’s pang of guilt, seeing how they rushed for the exits and the few White Fang regulars tried fruitlessly to establish order and deal with the threat, but there was no time to linger. Exits were blocked, but the window was clear- Sun grabbed her hand as he set out, shards of glass bouncing off their aura as they burst out of the darkness.

The mech wasn’t nearly agile enough to follow their route, but brute strength more than covered the shortfall, bricks shattering in it’s path as it powered through the wall of the warehouse, the whole building shuddering with the impact. The two students fled, taking to the rooftops as they rushed north, the bot crashing down the street in hot pursuit.

Over a series of panicked scroll calls, they laid a hurried trap- Blake and Sun detoured to the highways, giving up the high ground but allowing Yang and Neptune to slip into the pursuit, flanking the Paladin as Yang weaved through traffic on her motorbike. The street was busy, folks driving home from work for the evening, and the collateral damage was extreme, the mech bulling through cars like a bowling ball through pins, the screech of tearing metal setting their ears ringing even as distant sirens began to sound, Yang barely threading through the sudden obstacles as her passenger raised his rifle, aim shaky as the motorbike swerved and veered across the highway. Giving it up as a bad job, Neptune flicked his wrist, rifle shifting into a glaive, electricity sparking from it’s blade as he carefully rose to his feet on the seat behind Yang. She leaned forward, throttle roaring as they finally drew up next to the mech, Neptune leaping across to anchor his blade in the top of the machine.

The effect was immediate, sparks flying as Roman flailed, trying to throw the boarder from his suit, Neptune gripping tightly onto the haft of his blade as he weathered the storm as best as he could. He began to slip, the machine bucking beneath him like a wild animal, but then Sun was there, coming to his teammate’s aid in a burst of golden light, his semblance flaring as he leapt, a bare moment too late- Roman span, working the controls of the machine like a madman as he finally flung his unwanted passenger free, turning Neptune into an improvised projectile against his team leader as both men fell from the highway to the street far below. That distraction dealt with, he returned his attention to the chase.

The time they’d bought had been enough, though- a single young woman stood in the middle of the road, facing down the charging behemoth. Roman smirked, ready to bat her aside and continue his rampage, pushing the machine to it’s limits as it sprinted down the road towards her. Weiss readied her blade, Myrtenaster, barely a toothpick in comparison to what she was facing, plunging it down into the road as ice dust raced along it’s blade, bursting out across the blacktop. Roman saw the threat too late, unable to arrest his momentum as he lost his footing, careening off the side of the highway as Weiss gracefully slipped out of the way.

The Paladin gave groans and whirrs of complaint as it regained it’s feet at the base of the highway, servos straining against the damage of the fall. He scanned his surroundings- he recognised these kids, and they didn’t know when to quit. They’d be back to try and finish the job, regardless of how futile the idea was. They assembled around Red, four of them against him- a fair fight, with the suit on his side, but Roman hadn’t got as far as he had by accepting a fair fight. The Paladin’s comms equipment was still intact, and he thumbed a switch, broadcasting his position to a few carefully chosen frequencies- their little chase had done the job, loud and dangerous enough to attract eyes from across the city, now he just needed to last long enough for the others to cover his escape.

He approached slowly, both stalling for time and watching for another ice sheet.

“Freezer burn!”

His expectations were met, the Schnee heiress burning through another vial of dust to spread ice across the ground- Roman chuckled at their predictability, until a shooting star blasted down into the middle, Yang burning bright as she shattered the ice, shards sublimating into a smokescreen, blinding the Paladin’s primary sensors. Roman frowned, drawing the machine to a stop as he flicked on the secondary sensors, lasers cutting through the fog- a proximity sensor beeped an alert, and he spun the machine, firing blind, heavy shell blowing away the cloud just in time for a red blur to burst from the explosion, Ruby Rose slashing across the face of the machine lightning fast with her scythe, forcing a split-second pause as Roman faltered.

“Checkmate!”

Practically underfoot, Blake and Weiss attacked, blades sparking across the lightly-armored legs of the mech, forcing Roman to give ground as he tried to angle guns not designed for such close range at his assailants. Seizing the opportunity, Weiss leapt up, driving her epee into one of the mech’s sensors- in the cockpit, alarms blared and damage notifications flashed, but Roman ignored them, finally seeing a chance to strike back, foot raised to crush Blake beneath it. Even as the limb hammered down towards the huntress in training, a glyph lit up under her feet, Weiss’s semblance tugging her back out of the way of the deadly blow. Roman growled a curse under his breath, already moving to the next attack- with Weiss focussed on her semblance, she’d left herself open to his guns, and he opened up a salvo of lasers into her, forcing her to commit to a block which launched her away from the fight, opening up her teammate to a salvo of missiles.

Flying back through the air, Weiss kept her poise, flourishing her blade as she tapped into her semblance once again, a yellow glyph appearing under Blake for a split-second before it was absorbed into her. There was a disconcerting moment, sounds dampened as everything seemed to slow down, but Blake was familiar with the feeling, having trained with her team for countless hours. She watched the missiles sluggishly floating through the air with a sense of detatched amusement, before launching herself forwards to meet them, blade flicking out with contemptuous ease as she disabled each one in turn. Time took hold once more as the last one hit the ground, nothing more than scrap metal.

“Ladybug!”

Ruby rejoined the fray, darting between the clumsy machine’s legs- Roman tried to turn to face her, but Blake was ready for that, the pair of them harrying his flanks like a pair of wolves, leaving him disoriented in the cloud of fog and unable to mount an effective defence when they came together, blades tearing through the arm joint with a scream of metal. Alarms blared ever more insistently- catastrophic damage, hydraulic pressure dropping, servos strained and cannons low on power. He slammed a fist against a switch, silencing their blaring cacophony, just in time for another impact to rattle him in the cabin, Yang pummelling the entrance hatch with heavy blows, impossible to dislodge with only one arm. Roman thoguht quickly, scanned the environment, and put his plan into action without hesitation, overriding the machine’s complaints as he ran it backwards through the concrete supports of the highway above, rubble showering the blonde brawler until he managed to scrape her off on one of them, fist piledriving forwards to smash her through the concrete as she fell free. She started to struggle to her feet, but Roman seized the opportunity, pouncing on his weakened foe ready to put her out of the fight for good with one final, brutal blow.

A new salvo of alarms blared, the Paladin’s arm trapped in an inviolable grip. Yang burned with power, red-eyed, aura blazing as she pitted her strength against the machine and found it wanting. Another blow, fist like a battering ram, and Roman jerked in his seat as the Paladin’s arm was blown into scrap metal. He reacted quickly, hands flying across the controls once more as he forced the machine into a kick, every gauge in the red as the machine worked to the very limit of it’s abilities.

“Bumbleb-”

Ruby started calling the next tactic, ready to finally bring Torchwick to justice, but her shout was cut short by a sudden, unexpected fusillade. On the high ground, hunkered down on an abandoned highway, a figure in a long brown coat worked the action on his rifle, firing over and again, slugs flattening against Ruby’s aura. The element of surprise didn’t last, but the distraction cost them- Yang skidded to a halt on the ground, ready to rush back into the brawl, but Roman had just enough space cleared to launch another volley of rockets, the armless mech anchored into place against the recoil as missiles flared. Ruby dove to one side, Weiss to the other, as they exploded in a burst of heat and force between them, shockwave clearing yet more of their smoke cloud.

The bullets from above paused, Roman’s sniper reloading in smooth, practised motions, as the mech started moving again, making distance between them. Ruby called out again, “Bumblebee!”, and Blake swung out with Gambol Shroud, pulling Yang back into the melee. Ruby herself darted into deeper cover, her semblance leaving rose-petals dancing in the breeze as bullets flew through the space she’d occupied moments ago. Weiss threw out a sigil, bullets sparking off the hard cover as she spoke.

“What do you propose now??”

Ruby thought quickly, taking in the battlefield. The fog cloud was a double-edged sword- it kept Roman and the sniper from getting good shots on them, but it also meant Ruby couldn’t get a proper bead on him. Yang and Blake were still keeping up the pressure on Roman, the sniper apparently unable to get a good shot at them as they whirled around the mech.

“Ice Dragon!”

Ruby moved fast, getting into position as Weiss stepped in and Blake disengaged, frost dust and sigils hemming the mech in as Yang pressed harder, keeping Roman off-balance and unable to launch his missiles, stalemating him. Ruby spoke quickly, a single word in Blake’s ear.

“Blackthorn!”

Blake didn’t question it, swinging her blade at Ruby’s gut- she gripped on, Gambol Shroud firing as Blake swing the ribbon, swinging against the counterweight as she launched Ruby into the air. In freefall, but up out of the fog, Ruby swung Crescent Rose into position, sighting down the barrel- The sniper had eyes on Blake, wasn’t ready for an attack from above, Ruby darting through the air as she rode the recoil, seeing high-calibre rounds pounding his position, forcing the sniper to retreat. By the time she hit the ground, the mech was wedged into a wall of jagged ice, Yang’s feet planted as she launched a furious haymaker into it, finally destroying the machine once and for all.

Tumbling out of the wreck of his mech, Roman Torchwick rolled to his feet, brushing some debris from his shoulder. “Just got this cleaned,” he complained, petulant voice carrying across to the assembled huntresses.

Yang gave a wordless shout as she fired on him, Roman facing the guns with a little smirk as the shot went wide, deflecting off an umbrella as Neo made her appearance, giving a sarcastic curtsey as she rested her parasol over one shoulder.

“Ladies… Ice Queen…” Roman grinned, despite his defeat, enjoying the indignant squawk from Weiss. “It’s been a real pleasure! Neo, if you would…”

Sensing a trap, Yang charged, trying to disrupt any plans before they could come to fruition, fists blazing as she punched out, through Neo’s face, shattering the pair of them into mirror shards. There was a moment of confusion, the thrum of engines, a bullhead swinging past, over the rooftops to pick up the brown-coated sniper as they made their escape.

“So I guess he got some new henchmen,” Yang broke the silence after their escape.

“Yeah, they really made our plans… fall apart,” Weiss said, Ruby giggling at the pun as the tension left her.

Meanwhile, on the bullhead, Roman and his minions held a brief conference. “We ready to move out?”

Courier Six nodded once. “Bit of a rush job, but we got things moving when the cops started setting up a perimeter on the highway- folks ain’t happy that they had to move a few hours early, but they’re getting paid well enough to deal with the inconvenience.”

“They can suck it up,” Roman said, Neo silently giggling at the crass remark. “Those kids keep showing up like a bad penny- three times now, between them!”

“We looking to put them in the ground or use them for our.. personal project,” Courier asked, circumspect talking about their planned betrayal in the open, not a flicker in his eyes as he casually discussed killing four students. Roman wasn’t sure if he should approve of the bloodthirst or despair of how casual the kid was with it. Neo, on the other hand, was entirely certain, a vicious grin and a gleam in her eye at the idea of putting an end to their enemies.

Roman hid his ambivalence easily, matching his subordinate’s casual tone. “They haven’t done any real harm to us yet, no need to draw that kind of attention without a good reason.”

“You’re the boss,” Courier six said, not letting any of his misgivings show through his tone. “You know I’m behind you all the way.”

Chapter Text

I frowned down at my scroll. Things weren’t sitting right, even though things were going according to plan; hard to put my finger on why, but it gnawed at me. He’d never admit to it, but it felt like Roman was getting in way past his depth. He’d probably have killed me if I voiced that thought, though. Neo was no help, she was his to the bitter end- and I was too. It wasn’t that I was disloyal, second-guessing him, but there was something sticking in my craw. He seemed too comfortable, almost, adapting to the status quo and settling into the niche like it was made for him.

I wasn’t making any sense, not even to myself. The first and most important rule is always to adapt- whatever situation you find yourself in, you change yourself to fit it, whet her that means lying, stealing, or accepting a new boss- I’d done it, after all, and my only regret was not doing it quick enough to keep the bastards at Beacon from robbing me. I wasn’t going to figure this one out by myself, and I obviously couldn’t go to Roman or Neo for advice. I needed an outside set of eyes.

I thumbed the button on my Scroll, and made the call.

They came as a pair, of course, to the same little cafe we’d first met at- I’d staked out the place a half hour earlier, made sure there was nobody untoward hanging around, secured a table with my back to the wall and a pitcher of strong coffee . Falling into a pattern of behaviour like that was risky, but it also limited how much information I was giving them. Ren and Nora didn’t seem to think much it.

“You really like this place, eh? The pancakes aren’t bad, but home-made is better- Renny’s are the best, but we’re so busy with training and classes it’s hard to find the time,” Nora said, already talking as she took her seat, pausing only to scan the menu.

“Hope it wasn’t a problem finding time to get into town- y’all are in Beacon, then? You were a little worried about initiation.”

“It’s fine! We’re part of a really cool team, and since it’s the weekend we were going on a team outing, we split off so that Pyrrha could finally-”

“Look, they do milkshakes,” Ren interrupted, pointing to the menu, utterly sidetracking Nora in the process. She grinned, rushing off to order at the counter, leaving the two of us in relative privacy for a few minutes. “It’s been a while, I was surprised to hear from you,” he said quietly, eyes calculating.

“Sorry,” I apologized on reflex, not particularly meaning it. “Been busy- sounds like you were too?”

“Training is.. intense,” he admitted. “Is that job you mentioned keeping you busy?”

“It’s a little rough,” I admitted. “Boss is maybe taking things into a new direction, feels like it’ll make things tricky for us in the future…”

“Is that something you can talk about? What kind of company are you working for?”

I hesitated, hadn’t thought of a good cover story. Stupid not to, I’d gotten complacent, too used to spending all my time with crooks and terrorists, more worried about hiding plans than the nature of the job.

“Acquisitions- finding things for clients, getting them where they need to be . But the boss wants to get into bed with our biggest client, like a joint venture…” I bullshitted as seamlessly as I could, getting as close to the truth as possible without admitting anything incriminating.

R en frowned at that , an almost imperceptible twitch of his mouth, impossible to tell if he was considering the issue or if I’d somehow incriminated myself. “ So you can’t talk to your boss about it?”

“He’s more or less set on things, hard to say what exactly he’s planning though…”

“You should break his legs!” Nora said cheerfully, rejoining the conversation with a tray loaded with milkshakes and pastries, enough sugar and fat to last someone a year or more. “Who are we talking about?”

“Courier’s boss,” Ren said quietly. “Leg-breaking isn’t an option here.”

“Leg-breaking is always an option,” Nora said, uncharacteristically serious for a moment before . “What’s going on then? Need some muscle on your side?”

I shook my head, the idea of bringing these two trainee hunters into the situation not worth considering- they’d get us all killed at worst, arrested at best. Ren brought Nora up to date as I got some coffee into me, caffeine honing my focus a touch as I tried to figure out what I’d even be thinking of when I made the call. This wasn’t going to make anything better.

“Enough about me, how’s it going for y’all?” I changed the subject before they could pry any. “Heard some good things about Beacon, ain’t it the fanciest academy in the whole Kingdom?”

N ora grinned, taking the bait. “It’s great! They’ve got as much food as you want for free, and it’s really good, and there’s this aura sensor in the sparring rings so you can see how hard you smash people!” She flexed an impressive bicep, proud of herself. “Our team is so great, we’re gonna be fighting in the Vytal festival for sure- you’ve gotta watch, Pyrrha is such a great fighter, Jaune and Ren and I can barely keep up buy he’s so good at calling shots and..” she trailed off, catching her breath.

“We’re reasonably confident in our chances,” Ren noted quietly.

I tried on a grin for size, to match Nora’s energy, but it didn’t feel right and I let my expression rest in my usual expression. “Maybe I’ll put a few lien onto you,” I said, halfway joking. “ I could always use a little extra spending money!”

N ora looked me over. “I dunno, you look like you’re doing well! Nice coat, and is that a new gun you got? Looks fancy, your old one was just an off-the-shelf thing, right? This looks huntsman grade, can I get a look at it? Please please please?”

Ren gave me a pitying look, but didn’t offer any help as Nora continued to plead. “She’ll be like this for hours- just let her have a look.”

I drew my weapon, took the cylinder out and checked the barrel to make sure it was completely unloaded- a gun on the table wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows, but a shot going off certainly would.

“Oooh, you’re like a cowboy!” Nora reached out, fingers wiggling, and I reluctantly handed the weapon over. I still had my knife, if needs be, and being overly cautious would be more suspicious than letting them have a look- not like the gun was anything too suspicious.

Nora cooed over the gun, poking at it, looking halfway between an expert gunsmith and an excitable kid- I’d’ve been more worried if it weren’t for aura making sure regardless of what happened, I’d be okay.

“Wait, this is a shotgun? Yang would get a kick out of that, so old-school! Not even mechashift, really… are these clips to slot into a bigger gun? I wanna see it!” Nora kept up a commentary as she poked and prodded, Ren looking over with a faintly amused expression.

“This seems more like an Atlas design, they like revolvers and things that click together- did you get this made out of the country?”

I shook my head. “Local smith- he might’ve come here from out that way, mind. Didn’t really get into detail ‘bout his history, you know?”

Nora looked at me, confused. “No? I spent so much time making Magnhild I know everything there is to know about the woman who helped with it! We talked about everything- family, her hometown, what she likes on pancakes, her favourite colour, if she prefers thin or fat pancakes…”

As she lapsed into her list, I retrieved my weapon, gave it a quick looking over before snapping the cylinder back into place and holstering it at my side. “ Guess I’m not so sociable as you,” I admitted when Nora stopped for breath.

“You must be doing well,” Ren noted. “A custom made weapon, with dust-hardened steel… Is that something you need for your job?”

“Sometimes I make deliveries out of town,” I lied. “Grimm, you know? Never really ran into a big one, I stick to the roads, but you gotta have the firepower to keep ‘em honest…”

R en nodded, apparently satisfied with that. “That is understandable… I’m surprised your boss hasn’t hired hunters for that job, though?”

I shrugged- pretending ignorance would be safer than getting into detail. “I work the safer routes- not like I’m running caravans across the kingdoms! Y’all must’ve done your share of travelling to get here, you know how it goes.”

R en nodded at that, face thoughtful, and Nora enthusiastically rejoined the conversation. “Oh yeah! There was this one time- it was before we got our huntsman weapons, but Rennie had his knife and I’d got this really cool sledgehammer! Anyway, we were outside of Mistral, heading to Argus so we could get to Vale- It’s super cold out there, we had to spend most of our money on coats and fuel for our camp stove- and when we were going to Argus we got ambushed! There’s these little grimm snake ferret things which tunnel through the snow, and we got attacked by hundreds of them-”

“There were five or six,” Ren noted drily.

“-Hundreds of them!” Nora continued, ignoring his interjection. “They kept popping out of the snow, but they ran away before I could hit them properly, then another one would come out from behind! I was getting so frustrated, but then Ren used his semblance to help calm me down, and they got confused and started popping out of their holes to try and find us, and then I could get proper swings with my hammer… Anyway, that’s how I became the Mistral champion at Whack-a-Grimm!”

I blinked, briefly digesting that little story before letting out a bark of laughter. I couldn’t help it- the idea was just absurd. Nora gave a victorious little fist pump at my reaction, crowing “I told you I could get a laugh out of him!”

R en nodded silently, though his mouth twitched in a small smile.

“So, how about you?” Nora demanded. “You must have some stories from the road!”

I thought quickly- a story from back home would raise some eyebrows, unless I put it into the right terms. If these two had come from Mistral to Vale, they likely weren’t so familiar with Vacuo.

“Right, so I ran into some trouble out Vacuo way a while back- there was this delivery I had- fishy job, but I wasn’t to know at the time! This bastard in a dandy suit ambushed me, him and his folks… roughed me up pretty bad, stole the package. One of the locals dragged my ass to the town doc, they patched me up and got me back on my feet. So I head to the bar, get to know the locals and wash the taste out of my mouth, you know?”

“You drink??” Nora demanded, in disbelief, gasping melodramatically when I nodded. Seemed like an odd reaction, I’d have thought the two of them would be a little more seasoned. Took me a moment to notice the teasing glint in her eyes, the poorly-suppressed chuckle in her voice.

“Anyway… So I’m in this saloon, nice enough place, except this loudmouth asshole is picking a fight with the bartender. See, I weren’t the only one who got bushwhacked out that way- some proper merchant caravan got hit by a gang of bandits with dynamite, and the only survivor got himself hidden away in this little town. So these bandits, Powder Gangers they were called, they’re threatening to turn this whole town upside down and take over the place if they don’t give up this one trader. I figured I owe them one, since they patched me up and all, so I ask around town, start rounding up a posse.”

“A posse?” Ren echoed, a touch sceptical.

I shrugged. “Why not? Folks in town just needed a little push is all- those bandits woulda run through the place like shit through a bighorner- if you’ll excuse my language. The town’s hunter was on board from the start- she hunted lizards and wildlife, not a Hunter like y’all,” I clarified, as Nora opened her mouth to ask about it. “ The rest were trickier- there was this old-timer with a stockpile of dynamite, but he didn’t trust us with that, and the store owner was almost gonna let the powder gangers run riot because he thought he’d be able to sell to them! Had to twist some arms and come up with a decent plan, get the barkeep on board so she’d get the rest of the folks in town on board. We ambushed them outside the saloon- Joe Cobb, that asshole from the bar, and five of his buddies- came swanning in like they already owned the place, didn’t even have any decent armour on. They sure as hell weren’t ready for us!” I smiled at the memory- it had been good to feel useful again, after being shot in the head and only surviving off the kindness of strangers.

S omething seemed to have brought the mood down for the others, though- Ren’s mouth was a thin line, and Nora seemed almost pitying. “ You had to kill them? I’m so sorry…”

I hid my confusion as best as I could, turning to Ren, but he wasn’t much different. “You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do… there weren’t any Huntsmen there?”

“Nah, this was way out on the frontier, proper Hunters have other things to deal with-”

Nora interrupted. “They shouldn’t!” Her fist was clenched around a cookie, crushing it into crumbs. “ Hunters have a responsibility! When we finish our training, we’re not going to let anything like that happen again!”

S he paused for a moment, looking for words. “I don’t… It’s good that those bandits can’t hurt anyone else, but…”

R en stepped in. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Grimm are bad enough without people making things so much worse…”

I blinked. “ It’s not like that… I mean, it’s fine. Just the way things go, nobody’s gonna mourn some dime-a-dozen bandit assholes.” I took a sip of my coffee, found it empty. “It’s not like the world’s gonna change to suit us, you’ve gotta take it where it’s at. Anything else is just crying in the rain.”

“You’re wrong.” Ren’s voice was steady, didn’t leave any room for dispute.

“Yeah!” Nora seemed to be recovering some of her usual energy. “Of course the world can change! Anyone can change the world- we’re gonna change things, you’ll see!”

I didn’t have the heart to argue the toss there. “Could be,” I said quietly. “Best of luck to you, but I’m gonna keep dealing with the world as it is. I ain’t the sort to make big waves.”

That evening, I swept through the warehouse, double-checking my bug-out bag and making sure everything was ready to be removed or burned. My little meeting with Ren and Nora hadn’t helped much- I wasn’t sure why I’d ever thought it would. All it did was take my mind off things for a few minutes, and that was no help at all- I needed to focus, not ignore my problems.

Roman was out, doing some errand with Neo- he hadn’t told me what, and I hadn’t asked. Easy to predict how that would’ve gone- “Need to know, kid,” I could practically hear Roman’s tone in my head. He wouldn’t even have been wrong about that- keeping things quiet is just common sense in this kind of job. I was alone in the warehouse, as far as I could tell, although Cinder’s little visit had me rattled- there was definitely a way in, probably from the roof to the catwalks, but I couldn’t figure it out. I’d painted the windows shut as a precaution, made sure they were all properly latched shut- it felt a little redundant, patching a hole in the defences we were already planning on torching, but it was something to do, the sort of repetitive task which lent itself to thinking things through. I liked the place well enough- it was one of the nicer bolt-holes I’d used- but my feet were itching, felt like I was stagnating here. Needed to hit the road, might be that whatever Cinder’s phase 2 was would be just the ticket. Felt like that was the risk, falling into a rut because obeying was easier than pulling the trigger on a big betrayal, losing two-cap hands over and again because going all-in felt like a bigger risk even as your pot dwindled to nothing. Complacency was the word.

I was thinking through all of that as I looked over the supplies I’d lined up- ammo, gun oil and a whetstone to keep myself sharp, enough food and water to keep myself fed as long as I could forage, sewing kit and offcut leather to patch my clothes and a handful of books and magazines for reference. I could put that pack on my back, walk out into the forests and disappear if I wanted to- it’d also be useful if I were to go along with whatever Cinder’s phase 2 was. Keeping options open, preparing for whatever was to come .

T here’s an instinct which helps you to know when you’re not alone. Nothing I could point to, but as I crouched over my bag, I could tell something was up. Hairs on the back of my neck prickling, something in the air, that paranoid gut feeling of eyes on your back… I didn’t let it show, palming my pistol with careful motions, my body hiding the movement. Aura makes ambushes both more and less lethal- if you hit someone while they’re distracted enough, you can punch straight past their defences and end someone in a single blow, but it doesn’t take more than a moment for the mark to raise their aura and turn it from an ambush into a slugging match. Turning an ambush on your opponent was also trickier- the opening salvo is always important, sets the tone of the fight, but it’s not reliable as the decisive blow w hen folks are that much harder to kill.

I whirled, pistol tracking across the room. I knew every inch of it- more importantly, I knew the best places for an ambusher to hide. Neo had made sure of that. Place seemed empty, but that didn’t mean much- I considered if it could be Neo, continuing her idea of a training program, hidden behind an illusion. Couldn’t hear anything either- I’d need to force them to move if I wanted to see or hear a tell.

W asn’t going to put buckshot holes in my walls, but I had alternatives. Kept my aim steady, eyes flicking around the room as I slowly stepped across to cover the door- it looked closed, and a touch confirmed that it wasn’t my eyes playing tricks on me. So either there was someone in the room with me, or my paranoia was playing tricks on me again. Better to be overcautious than careless- if I got lax I’d get a beating from Neo at best, end up dead at worst. Held the pistol in one hand, my left dipping into my pocket, ready for a little trick I’d learned from the Khans- instead of Mojave sand in the eyes, I flung a handful of dust across the room, firework-grade flame dust from Roman’s stash sparkling in the air as I looked for any discrepancy and listened for any sounds of motion- and I was rewarded by a muted gasp. Not Neo, then- she was too canny to be surprised by a tactic like that.

S uddenly, thing shifted, like a desert mirage; the air itself wavered as Emerald’s eyes widened, concentration broken and the illusion which kept her from my sight fading fast. I had my gun on her, ready to fire as soon as she made a move, but her hands were empty- pair of revolvers still holstered at her belt, hands raised closer to her head. She froze for a moment, before putting on a smirk, feigning relaxation- it wasn’t a bad act, but she still held tension in her shoulders, her eyes didn’t quite match the expression. I’d seen better acts every day since I first met Roman.

“Snooping around?” I eyed Emerald, ready for her to make a move- by the time she cleared leather there’d be a round of buckshot in her gut, and even if her aura kept her going through it I’d be on her with my knife before she could recover- no guarantees after that, but so it goes.

She puffed herself up, like a coyote raising it’s hackles . “Our employer likes to keep an eye on things- Roman isn’t the most reliable tool, and neither are you! Now put that gun do wn , or Cinder will rain fire down on you like the wrath of the gods!”

I took a moment to consider, before returning my revolver to it’s holster. I didn’t figure she’d escalate things to a fight, even if she was trying to look ready for a scrap. She took that as submission, her smirk a little more natural. “Good… So how did you know I was here? I made sure you didn’t hear the door…”

I shrugged, still keeping an eye on her hands, just in case. “Bit of a breeze. Guessing you can’t do anything about that, though?”

Her silence was enough to confirm it, and I tucked that little weakness away in the back of my mind.

“Hey, if we’re gonna be wagging our jaws like this, why not head somewhere a little more comfortable? It’s plum strange to be talking like this in my bedroom!”

I slipped into more of a southern drawl, like a parody of a Goodsprings prospector- the sort of tone which makes people think you’re an idiot or a yokel, someone to be underestimated. It worked, too- Emerald relaxed a touch, her smirk a little more genuine. “ Sure, after you,” she agreed, watching me and not making a move.

I turned my back as I opened the door, ears straining for the rustle of cloth or scrape of metal on leather which would mark a surprise attack- none came, not in the doorway, not in the corridor on the way to the kitchens, nothing at all. I was almost disappointed- not that I was looking forward to figuring out how to dispose of the body, but it would’ve been a chance to see how I measured up in a real fight, no pulled punches .

I made coffee. Something I could do on autopilot, and if Emerald thought it was a chance for a surprise attack a mug of scalding liquid to the face would keep her honest. “Milk, Sugar?” I asked casually, sweetening it to her taste and setting myself across the table from her.

Emerald seemed strangely conflicted. “I wasn’t expecting drinks when you caught me,” she admitted. “What gives?”

“We’re all on the same side here,” I lied. “Waste of your time spying on us when we’re working together, but whatever the boss wants, right?”

Something about the sarcasm in my tone set her off, Emerald’s eyes narrowed. “ Whatever the boss wants ? You’re right about that, don’t forget it!”

I backed off from that point- not worth arguing over, and that it was such a touchy subject for her seemed like a useful titbit . “ Sure, sure… So she wanted you keeping an eye on our operation? Something wrong with the reports we’re sending back?”

“We aren’t the paperwork types,” She smirked as she said it, like that was something to be proud of. “Gotta keep a finger on the pulse!”

“And you’re that finger?” I suppressed the urge to chuckle at her phrasing, but beneath that I was troubled. I’d only caught her because I was alone- more people in the safehouse added too much distraction, with her semblance there was a chance she’d be there to eavesdrop on any conversation we had. The fact that Cinder hadn’t tried to burn us all out was enough proof that she’d not reported back anything too treasonous from us yet, but with a card like Emerald in her hand the whole game was changed.

T he woman in question blushed angrily. “There’s such a thing as stretching a metaphor too far!” She downed her coffee, grumbling. “This job is ruined… Hey, make yourself useful! Give me a tour, show me what Roman’s got cooking!”

D idn’t like that, but it was better than having Cinder think something was hidden, or having Emerald wandering around unsupervised. I downed the last of my coffee, heat pooling in my gut. “Sure, not a problem,” I tried to keep casual, easygoing about it, just a good little subordinate. “ What have you covered already?”

I kept up a stream of casual chatter as we walked the aisled and alleys of the warehouse, showing how we were getting ready to move out.

“Who exactly are you relying on for the transportation?” Emerald asked. “Names would be good, ways to find these people.”

“Afraid I don’t know the details myself,” I said, a half-truth; I knew some, maybe enough to find the rest of Roman’s smuggler contacts, but I’d be damned if I was gonna hand over the whole network to Cinder at the drop of a hat. Better to feign ignorance. “We’re relying on the White Fang a lot for it, though. Roman keeps his contacts under his hat, compartmentalising, y’know?”

“Paranoid old man,” Emerald muttered under her breath. “Fine, you’re useless for that. What do you have for me? I’m not going back to Cinder empty-handed!”

I hid my smile. She wasn’t much of a negotiator, showing her cards like that- basically admitting outright she’d accept things at face value as long as it was what Cinder wanted to hear. “ Y’all ain’t the paperwork types, but I’ve go t the manifests set out- how we’re gonna split our resources, get them out of town when y’all finally move on to phase two, whatever that is. We just need those co-ordinates, and we’ll be able to move out in a couple days. Less than a week before everything is where it needs to be, and any evidence of what we were doing is blowin’ in the wind. That’s a ssuming the co-ordinates are local to the city?”

E merald nodded at that, confirming two things- that Cinder’s plans were local to the city of Vale was obvious, but that Emerald knew what they were came as a bit of a surprise. Apparently Cinder trusted in her loyalty, needed Emerald’s skillset for the job, or just hadn’t heard about compartmentalising information.

“That’ll do for now… you’ve been surprisingly forthcoming,” Emerald admitted, eyeing me with a trace of suspicion. “Thought you’d be as shifty about all this as Roman has been.”

I shrugged, playing the mercenary. “I’m just here for the money- Roman pays well, but I’m pretty sure your boss could outbid him if it came to it. No point burning bridges there .”

A disgusted curl of her lip. “No loyalty to Roman?”

“A little,” I admitted. “He’s a good boss-” Emerald scoffed at that, but I soldiered on- “but you can’t be too attached, in this line of work. Guessing you don’t agree?”

E merald bristled at the implication, reacting on instinct . “ Of course not!” she raised her voice, before regaining a little composure. “How can you say that loyalty isn’t important? It’s the most important thing!”

O ddly idealistic for a crook. “Agree to disagree,” I blew her off, not ready to get into a debate about it- wasn’t like I actually believed the whole ‘loyalty is for suckers’ crap myself. Life is just easier if your enemy thinks they could buy you easily

*****

Emerald was fuming a little when she finally got back to Cinder, Courier Six’s odious worldview bouncing around in her head. The woman herself was waiting patiently, enjoying a glass of red wine, long legs crossed at the ankles as she perched on the edge of a tall barstool in the apartments she’d arranged for them, effortlessly graceful.

“I looked into Roman’s operation,” Emerald said, immediately getting to the point- she knew Cinder didn’t care for beating around the bush. “Things… didn’t go completely to plan.”

Cinder took her time answering, savouring a long sip of wine before turning her full attention onto Emerald. “Not completely to plan? What a disappointment… Explain, please.”

It was an order, not a request, and Emerald hurried to obey. “Torchwick and Neo were out of the warehouse, as planned, but that hired gun, Courier Six, managed to spot me…”

Mercury, slouched nearby and pretending to read a comic, gave a guffaw at that. “ You got caught by that cowboy? What happened to Emerald the master thief??”

E merald shot him a heated look, but Cinder elected to ignore the interruption. “Explain.”

“He’s sharper than he seems,” Emerald admitted. “Either that or he’s really paranoid. Whatever it was, he noticed me even through my semblance…”

That got Cinder’s interest, her eyes looking sharp into Emerald’s . “Could it be that his own semblance countered yours?”

“Maybe?” Emerald hesitated. “I… couldn’t figure out his semblance, sorry. But… he doesn’t seem loyal to Torchwick. He’s just a mercenary, really… explained what he knew about their whole operation, looks like they’re getting ready for the Mountain Glenn move even if they don’t know the details yet.”

C inder smiled thinly at that. “What a mistake, Torchwick, inviting a treacherous hound into your home… Perhaps we should see about subverting this Courier, he might be a useful, disposable, tool . ”

Emerald frowned- she disagreed, but her instincts screamed not to contradict Cinder. “Are you sure about that? I mean… he’s just a gun for hire. We could just pay him to walk away…”

C inder shook her head, a tolerant expression on her face. “He’s a wanted fugitive- we can use that. It would be... wasteful, to simply let a pawn like that slip through our fingers.”

M ercury shrugged. “Might be nice to have another guy on the team, for as long as he stays useful. More representation for us dime-a-dozen hired killers!”

Cinder turned towards him, ready to smooth ruffled feathers, her manipulation obvious in Emerald’s eyes. “Of course there’s a difference between you and him- he would be easily disposable, while you are not.”

Mercury accepted that, settling back into his chair and returning his attention to the comic book in his hands, tuning back out of the conversation with his usual indifference.

“I can convince him,” Emerald spoke up, rewarded with a smile from Cinder.

“Of course. I will give the order when the time comes, and I expect you to see to it.”

Chapter Text

Sirens wailed, red-painted vertibirds and trucks rushing to the site of the uncontrollable blaze. Fire dust was bad enough, but the warehouse had been packed to the gunnwales with all sorts of dust- we'd cleared it as best as possible, but there was still residue. Water dust set embers flying with bursts of steam, blasts of hot air sent shrapnel flying, and other, more esoteric effects sent smoke spiralling to the sky or collapsing to the ground like an invisible giant had caught it in a bowl and smashed it against the ground. Nobody dared to press forward- it was too late to even start dousing the blaze, all the firemen could do was set up a perimeter, keep any nosy bystanders from getting themselves hurt, and douse the surrounding buildings with their hoses to keep the fire from spreading.

I raised the scroll to my ear, spoke quietly. "Place is up in smoke. Nothing salvageable."

Roman chuckled- background noise showed that he was in one of the trucks, window open and wind whipping past. "Perfect! Got a job for you, kid- some of the animals have got themselves in the shit, need someone competent to pull their tails out of the fire. Get onto it, corner of Mason and Redbrick avenue."

"Understood," I said, cutting the connection and turning on my heel. There was nothing to gain from staring at the embers, except for a slight pang of loss as the place which had been my home for months was utterly erased. I shouldered my backpack and ducked down an alleyway before any of the rubberneckers paid me any mind.

The plan was simple- Vale had a fair few exits, both official and clandestine. Neo would be rolling with the truckers moving the heavy gear, where her illusions could do the most good, Roman would set up his own little command center to keep an eye on everything… and I'd be running ragged all across the city putting out fires wherever the White Fang ran into trouble. Their job was easy- just get out of the city with backpacks and briefcases full of ammo and dust crystals, the things we didn't want rattling around in the back of trucks. Didn't expect them all to make it out, since so many of them were rank amateurs and the gate guards were a little more cautious of faunus than anyone else, but if less than a tenth got caught that'd cover us well enough- and those that did get caught would probably break pretty easily under interrogation, being amateurs, which would only get more attention onto the White Fang instead of Roman and the rest of us. Typical Roman plan, one where we'd profit either way.

Redbrick Avenue was in a nicer part of town, unfortunately. Maybe it'd been industrial once upon a time, going by the stark, utilitarian brickwork and high windows, but the shells of those factories were full of apartments and shops now, like cazadores nesting in empty mirelurk shells. Population grows, they find more places to put people, shove all the industry off to the outskirts- same thing had happened with Freeside, when House moved in and took over the Strip, all the workshops getting shifted outside of the walls. Made for trouble- I could get away with a lot more in the cheaper side of town than a place like this, and there was some sort of festival coming to town besides, stalls being set up on the roadsides, travellers wandering the streets gawping and playing with their scrolls. None of them would've survived half a day in Freeside, but I guess that was the point of all the guards and walls, to let people survive getting so complacent.

Lucky for the Fang, I wasn't so careless; I scanned the crowds with easy practice, checking for potential threats. Most of them were just civilians, no weapons and probably no aura either- more worrying was the cops and private security, and the occasional hunter and huntress. Those folks advertised it, with their bright outfits and flaunted mechashift weapons. I'd stuck with something a little more low-key, a pair of pistols holstered under my arms and my rifle stashed in my backpack. I looked like just another traveller, especially with my new coat; folks here focused a lot on colour, in their clothes and emblems and such, so changing from my usual shades of brown to a dark blue and a different hat would likely be enough to fox any casual observers. Not like the wanted posters they'd put up looked much like me, with everything that'd happened since they'd taken that mugshot, but a cap to cover my face a little still helped. I would've needed a better disguise in the Wasteland, without so many walls and guards, where people paid proper attention to potential threats, but I couldn't complain too much about things going easily for me. Made me wonder how the Fang had managed to screw up; the job was simple, just leave town with a few backpacks loaded with gear and get to the meetup at the first leg of the journey.

The idiots in question were hunkered down in the mouth of an alleyway, managing to look more conspicuous than if they'd just sat their asses down at one of the vendors and grabbed a snack. Just as oblivious as the crowds, too- I could see how they started as soon as I slipped around behind a stall to approach them. Three of them- a blonde cat faunus, a lizard of some sort, and a third who seemed entirely human, although a fair few faunus hid their animalistic features if they could get away with it.

"Hey, who are you?" The first to speak was a cat faunus- I could see a tail flicking behind him. "We're just-"

"Save the excuses," I interrupted before he started digging a hole for himself- a little too harshly, maybe, since he tensed up even more and one of his mates reached into a pocket for something. "The boss sent me, said you ran into a problem?"

There was a moment's hesitation, embarrassment flickering across their faces- the apparently human one finally broke the silence. "See, we had everything packed in our car to transport, like the plan said," she began, hesitant. "And then… Well, you see how the street is set up for the Vytal festival, right? So we'd loaded everything into the car, and parked it ready to move out once the fire got started…"

I glanced around at the crowded street, the stalls selling food and whatever junk tourists would buy, the big yellow signs warning that the road was closed and any unattended vehicles would be towed. "You left the material in your car, and you left the car here?"

She blinked. "That's… mostly how it went, yeah…"

The lizard spoke up, trying to salvage the situation. "None of it can be linked to us, the car wasn't ours!"

It was my turn to blink, unable to believe what I was hearing. "So… it's not your car, it has our stuff in it, and it's been towed? Where to??"

The cat scratched the back of his head. "That's what we were figuring out… sorry boss, but it's not like they'd tell us? Probably they'd contact whoever the car was registered to…"

"I'm not your boss," I corrected curtly- no way I wanted responsibility over this band of amateurs. "So you've lost the gear, and whoever goes to collect it will find a nasty surprise in the back seat?"

Silence, for a moment, which I took as a yes.

"Right… get yourselves home. You're done." I frowned, running the numbers in my head. It wasn't the end of the world, having some of the foot traffic intercepted- there was a reason Roman had divided everything between so many people, made sure at least some of the product made it through, and filter out the incompetents into Vale's prison system.
The cat paled. "There's nowhere else for us to go…"

"Bullshit," I snapped. "You ain't cut out for this. Just find some other job, something legit where you won't need someone like me to clean up your messes."

I was ready to leave there and then, but something in the cat's eyes stopped me- the sort of desperation which gave way to a rock-solid commitment. "There's no work in this town for a faunus, no landlord will rent to us. The White Fang was meant to make things better, but you're going to abandon us??"

"I'm not White Fang," I defended myself, "and this ain't a charity. You had a job, and you screwed it up."

"So give us a chance to fix it," the apparently human one suggested. "We… please. This is all we have left."

A better person than me would've brushed that off. Nothing wrong with helping people out, but helping these liabilities into the White Fang would just get them killed- there was just something familiar about that look in their eyes. When someone hits rock bottom, they'll look for whatever escape they can, and cling to it like a raft in a storm. I was probably going native, letting this place's safety and security dull the edges the Mojave had sandblasted onto me, but I wanted to help these people. Besides, Roman had pointed me their way in particular- it'd look good for both of us if I could solve this little problem.

"Ah, hell with it. What are your names?"

There was a pause, a tentative smile. "I'm Mica," the cat introduced himself, before gesturing to his two companions. "This is Rudy, and the lady is Sienne."

Both of them made their own introductions as I fixed each name and face in my mind- Mica that cat faunus, Rudy the lizard, and Sienna who still hadn't made her faunus features apparent.

"Call me Courier," I introduced myself properly- that was a commitment, now that they had my name there was no way I could let them get caught, interrogated. "Any of y'all have weapons, aura?"

A trio of shaking heads. That was… mixed. Made them less useful, but easier to drop if everything went south. No need to worry about them snitching during an interrogation if they never made it into prison. Not that they needed to know that.

"It's fine, not like we'd be shooting our way into getting the gear anyway," I said, and they relaxed imperceptibly. They'd been tensing themselves up, getting ready for a shootout with Vale PD to recover this stolen car full of stolen dust. Pack of morons to even consider that as an option, but a pack of morons willing to throw their lives away like that would fit right into the White Fang. "We need a plan… you know who the car's registered with?"

Rudy shrugged. "It was a company car, belonged to this cleaning company- Bloom Cleaning Vale."

Sienna spat to one side. "Bastards."

"You have a history?"

She didn't meet my eye. "Yeah… They did me wrong, once upon a time. I don't wanna get into it."

I could've pushed, but I honestly didn't particularly care about her personal grievances. "No need for the details, long as it won't cause us any problems. Important thing is what's in front of us right now, the past can stay buried."

Sienna still looked like she'd just swallowed a lemon, but she wordlessly nodded her assent, and I moved on to the next step.

"We need to know where the target is, how much security and how we're going to get away once the job's done." I started to pull up the information on my scroll, tapping through search queries and guides, glass screen cold under my fingertip. "Nearest impound lot is… not far away, a little over a mile. Let's move, see what's there, then I'll tell y'all what the next step is."

"Why not tell us now?"

I eyed Rudy for a moment, and he looked away, easily shamed for his comment. "Because I won't know the next step until I see what the situation is, there," I explained, letting some of the irritation at his stupidity show.

"I was just asking," he grumbled, but fell into line well enough. I set a brisk pace, sticking to alleys and side streets, cigarette dangling from my lips as I led the three faunus through the city like a line of ducklings. They complained, huffing and panting behind me, but they stuck it out well enough- good thing, if they couldn't hack a short hike along a paved road there was no way I'd stick my neck out any further for them.

The impound was… Strange. Reminded me of something, but it took a moment to place the notion. A place out in the desert, good sightlines to make camp, a sparking heap of pre-war tech waiting to be salvaged. It was nostalgic, in it's way, reminded me of the weight of people here, how surrounded I was, hemmed in by the walls and guards and buildings and crowds, the pervasive claustrophobia of the city. I took a drag from my cigarette, stamped down the butt and lit another.

"What do we do?" The faunus were nervous- Mica, his nose twitching as a tendril of smoke passed his face, wore it the worst, everything writ clear across his face, but it was easy to see the twitchy tension in each of them. I took my time, scanning the lot as I finished my smoke.

"What security is there, far as you can see?"

They looked confused, but Sienna caught on, eyes on the target. "Uh… there's cops?"

"How many, and where?" I pressed. Wasn't sure when I'd decided to turn this into a teachable moment, but there was something about a group of idiots who didn't quite fit in that got me acting sentimental.

"Three of them- two at the gate, one by that building."

I waited, but that was apparently all that Sienna had noticed. "Don't be an idiot- there are six guards at least. The three we can see, sure, but look again. There's CCT cameras there- those'll be monitored from inside the building, which is gonna be two people in a security room. Guy by the building is taking a smoke break, that probably ain't his proper post- sight lines are crap for everything but the back gate, and that's already covered by the other two. I'm willing to bet he's got a partner covering the front of the building- Vale PD always goes in pairs, and those are the two entryways- through the lobby at the front, and the gate at the back."

Sienna squinted. "Seems like a stretch," she grumbled. "You can't know that there's someone outside the front, could just be someone manning the desk…"

I shrugged. "Good point. Go circle around and check, then."

As she hurried off, I turned to the other two. "You can get copies of the vale PD training handbook if you look for them. I'd give it a read if you're serious about the White Fang, you gotta know your enemies- cops and Hunters."

Rudy raised a hand, like a child in a schoolhouse, only speaking when I gave him a nod. "What do you mean by that, boss? Hunters keep us safe from Grimm, they're not our enemy."

"I'm not your boss," I insisted. "And what do you think the Hunters are gonna do if y'all start making too much noise? You're all criminals, and Hunters go after them just as much as grimm."

Both of the Fang recruits frowned, like that was some blow against them. Nobody was immune to propaganda, and the kingdoms pushed Hunters hard as some incorruptible band of heroes, even when they were used just the same as military and police- could be that these recruits were expecting Hunters to be on the White Fang's side, if only they could draw enough attention or make their point loudly enough. Like the Khans expecting NCR Rangers to flip and join them if they just made enough trouble, it would never happen.

Sienna made her return, scowling. "Just because you were right this time doesn't mean anything!"

I didn't bother to argue the point. "Right, so there's six of them, and four of us. I've got aura and small arms, what weapons do you have on hand?"

A hesitation from the civilians. "I've got a knife," Mica volunteered.

"I didn't expect any more than that," I reassured them. "Y'all are civilians, not soldiers or real fighters- we wouldn't be trying for a fight anyway. Dead cops would make it harder on everyone trying to get out of town today."

"We wouldn't want to kill anyone anyway, right?" Rudy seemed troubled. "They're just doing their jobs."

"You know that the White Fang does whatever it takes," Sienna snapped. "Keeping our hands clean didn't do anyone any good."

"Killing folks usually ain't worth it 'round here," I interrupted. "Draws too much attention, that's all there is to it. Save the moral debate."

Somehow, that didn't seem to sit well with any of the White Fang recruits, but they kept their concerns quiet, which was the important thing. I pressed on, turning my attention to Sienna. "You said the car belonged to some cleaning company which did you wrong. You worked for them?"

A pause. "Yeah," she admitted. "They-"

I cut her off with an upraised hand. "Save the details- I'm not asking for your whole story, just what's relevant. You think you can pass for an employee?"

"I don't have the uniform or ID," she protested.
Maybe I could've pressed- it's always possible to talk folks into doing you a favour, if you've got the time and the right wording, but I wasn't willing to risk having the plan rely on Sienna alone.

"Right, plan B- distract 'em, then hit 'em. That's just a chain-link fence, easy to cut through, get in on the east side and reach the target…"

"How are we gonna drive the car out without getting caught? Starting a car chase would make things difficult on the rest." Mica frowned- he'd been quiet, but apparently he had been paying attention.

"We're not. We're gonna get everything out of the back, then be gone before anyone's the wiser."

Rudy raised his hand again, and Sienna raised an eyebrow. "You know you can just say stuff, right?"

Blushing, the scaled faunus lowered his hand and spoke up. "Umm… How are you planning on creating a distraction? And what about the cameras?"

"Good question," I admitted- wouldn't do any harm to bolster his confidence a little. Glancing around the alley we were in, I quickly found what I was looking for. "That dumpster there- half full of boxes and plastics. Throws out a decent smoke signal, and with one of y'all shouting fire that should attract attention. Far as the cameras go, we just need to make sure the folks watching the monitors are distracted- doesn't matter if they spot us a week later when they're checking the recorded footage. I'll make a blind-spot, then we move in."

The faunus didn't seem confident, but that wasn't my problem. Sienna would be the one shouting about the fire, while I'd lead Rudy and Mica around the side- having the most passably human attract attention only made sense, and I wasn't sure Rudy would play his part without my eyes on him. I tossed a vial of fire dust into the dumpster, red flecks spreading in a spray and smouldering for a moment before the cardboard and papers inside burst into flame.

"On the clock now, let's move," I said, hurrying off. "We'll move on your signal, Sienna."

There wasn't any decent cover on the east side of the impound lot- broad street abutting it, made us easy to spot, but it was still the best approach. Only cameras covering that particular stretch of chainlink, and hardly any civilians around to spot us with the festivities drawing crowds elsewhere. Only major threat was the two guards at the back gate- they weren't the most disciplined, but bored as they were it was hard to predict where their eyes would fall. At least, without something interesting to keep their attention.

As the first wisps of smoke drifted out of the alleyway, I thought Sienna had abandoned us, and I was getting ready to abort the plan before doing anything really incriminating, when she came bursting out of the alleyway, hands waving as she shouted, "Fire! FIRE! Look here, call the fire brigade!"

Wouldn't give her many marks on her acting, but it was good enough to attract the two by the gate- and hopefully the unseen cops manning the security cameras. I hefted a half brick, angling my throw carefully- destroying a camera would raise eyebrows, but a decent knock, enough to change it's angle, wouldn't raise any alarms if nobody was watching that particular feed at the time. I lobbed it underarm, not throwing it with anything like full force, and it glanced off the casing of the camera- slight dent, but no sparks, and the little light by it's lens still glowed red. I waved over the others from where they were stood, trying and failing to look inconspicuous, and they crowded into the little blind spot I'd made by the fence.

Bolt cutters or pliers would've made my life a lot easier- something I probably should've been carrying as a matter of course. Aura filled in, strengthening my hands enough to snap wire after wire, making a slit in the fence just long enough to bend back a panel, crawl through. My coat protected me, but Rudy and Mica weren't dressed for the threat, the metal wires of the fence drawing shallow scratches as they squeezed through. No complaints about it, at least- I wouldn't have entertained any whining about it if they had any.

Once we were in, it was almost worryingly easy- the cameras were all set around the perimeter, looking outwards, so the inside was a big void in their security- that was lucky for us, since there weren't many cars impounded. Not much cover, and the sight lines were open enough that someone could sweep the whole place with a single machine gun mounted in the right place. The car we were going for was decently close to the fence, at least, company logo emblazoned proudly across the side, some sort of frilly dress in black and white. Doors were locked, but Mica had the key, and as soon as he got close it all opened up- some sort of wireless connection, seemed like a security problem to me but it meant I could just yank the back door open and pull the first duffel bag out. There were four of them- probably meant to be four people on the team, but someone got cold feet, didn't show. About what I expected of the White Fang's new recruits.

Mica and Rudy hefted one of the bags each, and I slung the remaining two over my shoulders. Heavy, but aura saved me from having the straps cut into my shoulders too badly. Then it was just a matter of getting gone- we hurried back, the two faunus in front. No chance I'd be letting them out of my sight, in case they'd fall behind or find some other way to screw up- especially since there was no guarantee the gate guards would stay distracted much longer. It'd been maybe thirty seconds, and we were halfway back to our exit. Ten seconds later, I was holding the flap of metal open as Rudy and Mica scurried through.

It was pure bad luck which got us caught, some kid with a map in her hands turning the corner as I was passing the duffle bags through. Looked up, probably checking for a street sign or something, and her eyes levelled on me.

"What are you doing?"

She seemed genuinely curious, like she'd just spotted me committing some faux pas at a dinner party, not sneaking out of a police lot. Tilted her head, staring at me- I froze for a second before smoothing the fence back into place.

"What are you doing?" I asked back, hoping to keep her off-balance long enough to clear off.

"I'm looking for my friend, maybe you've seen her?" The strange girl stepped closer, when another rounded the corner, a hurried walk.

"Penny. You should remain on main street for the duration of this excursion."

I looked between the two- Penny, looking affably confused, and this newcomer, looking like she'd been cut off from a big block of junior officer trainees. NCR had some academies like that back in Shady Sands, training rich kids to be ready to slip right into an officer's billet as soon as they were big enough to hold a rifle.

"I was just looking for… I met this new person!" Penny said, glossing over what she'd been doing here. The officer recruit eyed me, penetrating gaze, and I wondered if she'd see through the basic disguise I'd put on to keep anyone from recognising my mugshot.

"I was just leaving," I said hurriedly, tipping my hat and turning to hurry off before she could make the connection. "Y'all enjoy the celebrations now!"

"Wait," I heard the redhead calling from behind me. "You never explained-"

I was already gone before they could follow up- the faunus had made themselves scarce during the conversation, which I hoped was more good instincts than basic cowardice. I'd done my best to drill the rendezvous point into their heads, but we only had a few minutes, no guarantee they'd make it there without getting themselves lost, distracted or arrested.

The meeting spot was in the industrial district, sort of place where folks minded their own business and didn't much care for the cops. Perfect place for a pack of rookie terrorists to loiter with sacks of unstable explosives and military grade ammunition- by the time I arrived, Mica and Sienna were hanging around, looking about as inconspicuous as a Modoc deathclaw, while Rudy was conspicuous by his absence. He'd made it there, I could see the bag I'd slung onto his shoulder back at the lot, but no sign of the man himself.

"Where were you?" Sienna demanded, stepping forward, smell of burning plastic still sticking to her clothes. "We've been waiting for-"

"For a half hour. You're not the only team moving out of Vale, and I had to make sure nobody was following me. Where's Rudy?"

"Laying low, he said," Mica spoke up, voice soft. "I think he got nervous, waiting. Left the bag here- I'll give him a call."

"No need for that, just let me know where he's staying." I frowned, considering my options. Rudy could be a problem, a loose thread which would need to be snipped- he didn't know much, but I didn't want what little he had in the cops' hands if he got caught, or if his conscience convinced him to turn on the Fang. Always another detail to resolve.

*****

Doctor Oobleck looked over the sea of faces ahead of him, some paying attention, a regrettable amount too distracted or bored to give anything more than a facade. Oobleck wondered how much of that was his own fault, the way he got so caught in the flow of his speech that words simply bubbled forth almost unbidden, one thought leading into the next into the next- even as he considered that, he spoke out.

"Indubitably the greatest crime of the Faunus Rights Revolution was the policy of racial determinism enforced across Atlas and Mistral; any faunus citizen of these kingdoms was considered as a potential enemy combatant first, and their rights as a civilian came as a distant second! This led to significant overreach, with military tribunals called to convict any faunus suspected of criminal activity, often convicting them with limited, circumstantial or even entirely lacking evidence, often followed by internment or forced extradition to Menagerie!" He glanced around the room, looking for signs of disinterest or idleness, picking his target as he spoke. "Mister Arc, could you tell us who was responsible for enforcing these laws?"

The blonde glanced around, looking for a helping hand- Oobleck hid his disappointment, not wanting to dampen the boy's spirit, but he'd hoped Jaune would have put a little more effort into his historical studies. "Umm… The police, right? Because they were… responsible for law enforcement?"

Oobleck shook his head, taking a fortifying sip of coffee. While he was wrong, it was at least his own thought this time, and not an entirely unfounded supposition. Pyrrha raised her hand, always eager to cover for the gaps in her leader's knowledge.

"The Mistrali government gave responsibility to the military police, leading to protests that proceedings were kept secret and the trials weren't fair," she began, before her confidence wavered. "The military response to protesters led to… escalation."

"Atlesian hunters were sent after any Faunus who spoke out," Blake added, not raising her hand- Oobleck wasn't inclined to damp down on the discussion though, given Ms. Belladonna's own experiences with Faunus rights and her tendency to make pertinent points. "They raided homes, workplaces and community centres, with a warrant made for the arrest of any Faunus with an awakened aura."

"Indeed!" Oobleck stepped out in front of his desk, put a slight effort in to slow his cadence of speech- if these young scholars learned anything from this lecture, he hoped this would stick. "Hunters and Huntresses are given broad powers to detain suspected criminals, especially those with aura. You will one day share in that responsibility- and it will fall upon each of you to act with greater moral fortitude than those who have abused that power."

Mr Winchester muttered something to his teammate, sharing nasty little snickers, and Oobleck made a mental note to raise the issue again- the boy was sufficient in all the physical aspects of a huntsman, but his attitude and ingrained prejudices would cost him his graduation if they couldn't teach him the error of his ways. "I would like each of you to bring a thousand words on the impact of huntsmen and women on policing during the Faunus Rights Rebellion to next week's lecture!"

As the students filed out, grumbling at the prospect of homework, Oobleck sat behind his desk, taking a deep swig of his coffee. It was far from the first time he'd given that lecture, year on year, but this time the words felt rough on his tongue. He opened his scroll, looked at the drafted message to Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin,

While I am thankful for the opportunities and challenged which I have experienced during my tenure at Beacon, I am afraid I will not be able to continue my work in good conscience.
I am aware of the stakes faced by the kingdoms, and our role in ameliorating these risks. However, I am also painfully aware of the weight of history. My actions as your agent have gone against the ethics grounded in the lessons of history, and I fear that these actions have left me unable to effectively teach the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses, and further unable to ethically act as your agent in the larger picture.

Speaking plainly, I believe you made a mistake in your treatment of the Courier, and that my complicity in this was the latest in a series of moral failings on my part. I can no longer abide by this, and thus must tender my resignation both as a professor of Beacon and as a huntsman subordinate to you. I will continue in my professorial duties until a suitable replacement can be arranged, and am willing to suggest potential candidates for the post.

Please understand I do not do this out of disloyalty.

Your faithful servant,

Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck

Oobleck read through the message again, and then a third time. He took another mouthful of coffee, his scroll sat on the desk, ready to send the message at the press of a single button. He stared for a few minutes more, until the next class began to congregate at his door. With a sigh, Oobleck deactivated his scroll, message unsent, and stood, bracing himself for the next lecture.