Grimm Nightmares Chapter 61

Chapter 61 On Black Wings

He did not announce himself; he saw no need and did not intend to linger for long. He moved through the Dream with purpose, though he was not so callous as not to keep an eye out for the Doll.

But she was absent, and it would not do to divert from his path.

Not when he was so close.

No, he required another occupant of the Dream for this trip.

Jaune found him away from the Workshop, sitting in his chair, looking into the grey expanse surrounding this odd haven. His head rested atop his fist, and Jaune assumed he was on the precipice of dozing off.

That thought caused Yharnam’s newest Hunter to pause as he considered the mechanics of falling asleep in a Dream.

The thought crossed his mind of whether or not one could dream in a Dream.

‘How would that work?’ Jaune ruminated as he marched up to the person he had sought. He knew the old man had heard him coming by the crunch of his boots on the gently swaying grass. Despite being aware, he remained still, utterly uncaring for the blond's approach.

Jaune stopped, arm’s length away, looking down from his periphery to the weathered and aged visage of Gehrman. The old man’s eyes did not waver for an instant as he continued to observe the ceaseless grey before him. Silence descended, but Jaune felt no great urge to speak the first words and shatter it.

The quiet of the Dream… he had become fond of it.

“You stray from the Hunt yet again,” Gehrman accused, his body rigidly still in his wheelchair.

With the peace broken, Jaune found all his calm, fleeing, leaving behind only his frustrations and the purpose that had brought him here in the first place. Though he knew he should only say what he came to say and ask what he came to ask… his anger got the best of him.

“Stray?” Jaune sneered, “You speak as if I am fleeing… as if there were somewhere to flee in the first place.”

Gehrman was not disparaged by Jaune’s tone, however, “And yet you are here once more instead of pursuing the Beasts.”

Jaune looked down at Gehrman, and for a flash, the invasive thought of slamming his booted foot into the old man danced maliciously through his mind.

‘You’re the Beast…’

He ruthlessly strangled the thought so it would not conjure up even more unwanted ideas. Breathing through his nose as he tried to calm himself, Jaune dropped an item in Gehrman’s lap. The old man scowled at Jaune’s sudden action, his bony fingers grasping the object tightly to stop it rolling to the floor.

Jaune spoke, his voice sheer, “What concoction is this? What function does it serve?”

Gehrman’s scowl lasted only a moment longer before he rolled his old, wrinkled head atop his shoulders to peer at the bottle Jaune had tossed into his lap. The Hunter’s Helper lifted the item so as it might catch the moonlight, as he let a thumb trace across a strip of cloth that decorated its outside.

Then, with a smirk, he popped the cork, holding his somewhat squashed nose over the top and inhaling the crimson vapours that seeped from the open bottle.

“Mmm… aged well,” Gehrman uttered, his voice changed by whatever feelings the pungent odour had aroused.

Jaune did not share them as he waved a hand in front of his face and turned his nose up, the scent of the liquid within strong enough to feel as if it was clinging to his insides. “Cork it damn you, before the odour worms its way into my very mind,” Jaune ordered.

Gehrman looked up with a roll of his eyes, “Of course, you would lack appreciation for what was once considered the pinnacle of Yharnam’s luxury goods.”

Jaune shook his head in disdain, “Enough. I know it is some kind of Blood, but it's… different. Whatever has been done to it has changed it; I doubt imbibing that brew would do anything more than make me feel… violently ill.”

Jaune paid no mind to the glance Gehrman bestowed upon him for the inflection he had utilised on one word in particular, choosing instead to glare impatiently.

“… You are not wrong. While it is still an item utilised by those who have partaken in Ministration, it would not cure any ailments or such… it was instead imbibed for nothing more than to revel in the Blood.” Gehrman explained as he corked the bottle, finally haltering the pungent stink that permeated the air.

Jaune scowled, taking his hat from his head to better fan the smell away from his face, “I could understand the Blood being utilised for medicinal purposes, for the Hunters, and thanks to you, I now know its uses extend into fields I had not even known existed… but to use it as nothing more than a… beverage?”

“An expensive beverage.”

Jaune thought of the abomination in the Grand Cathedral, how he had been paralysed as he watched it tear free of its human form. He thought of Gascoigne and how he had been there as he lost his grasp on the last few strands of his humanity and succumbed to Beasthood.

He sniffed hesitantly and immediately regretted it as his mouth dried and his heart quickened. Just as it had been the first time, a dreaded curiosity demanded he partake of the substance… only now it was somehow even more forceful.

‘It’s you-‘

Jaune clenched his fist as he forced himself to halt his mind as Djura’s voice echoed within the confines of his skull in a damning drone.

Gehrman, seemingly unaware of Jaune’s internal battle, continued to speak, “I remember how more and more it was Blood that was sought after instead of a fine vintage… Cocktails like these being especially prized by those of means.”

Gehrman looked up, but not at Jaune; he looked heavenward, his brow scrunched in thought, “I was never partial to wine; it wasn’t like I had much access to any of worth back in the day, no. I personally favoured a cool beer after a good shift, but Laur-“

Gehrman cut himself off with the clack of teeth as if trying to trap his words within his mouth.

Jaune merely raised a brow.

Gehrman’s head twitched as Jaune became his focus, and the old man’s face twitched, “… It’s a brew of Blood, Hunter; what more do you need to know?”

Jaune felt almost relieved that Gehrman was again treating him to his surlier side. “I recall an encounter I had in Central Yharnam with a Beast that became momentarily distracted by a rather pungent aroma, one much like this ‘brew’ possesses… what effect, if any, do you think this concoction might have on Beasts if applied strategically?”

Something flashed in the old Hunter’s eye that Jaune did not like in the least.

“So this is what brings you back to the Dream? The answer to a question you already know… Stray was indeed the right word to use,” Gehrman scoffed.

Jaune’s anger returned, “I do not know! That is why I ask-“

“You do,” Gehrman cut Jaune off, his tone damning with finality. “You know, you may be new to the Hunt… but you have submerged yourself in it with speed that I have rarely encountered.”

Jaune bit his tongue, a curse bubbling at its tip.

“That’s why you know… because you are a Hunter, and the Blood sings to you as it does any who partake of Ministration to its fullest extent,” Gehrman lectured.

‘It’s you-‘

“I did not ask after Hunters Gehrman,” Jaune snapped, “I asked after Beasts and their reaction-“

Gehrman cut him off with another roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand, “A Beast will be drawn to it without restraint, without inhibition. You have your faculties; a Beast does not and therefore cannot lie to itself,” Gehrman finished, his final words pricking a very raw nerve.

Gehrman spoke no further, holding out the bottle for Jaune to take, as he seemed to be silently taunting the blond.

Jaune snatched the bottle and walked away.

“Good luck out there, Hunter,” Gehrman called out in parting.

Jaune’s foot fell with more force as he pushed through the urge to turn around and berate the supposed ‘friend of Hunters’.

“I have a name,” he spat as he continued away from Gehrman, desiring to be well away from the man and his scathing truths.

YVYVYVYVY

“The base!” Oto exclaimed over the loud rush of wind, pointing his hand towards the illuminated section ahead. The area was dotted with blaring floodlights, making it easily visible from the air.

The Fox Faunus was standing behind Jaune, his large ears flattened to his head and his hands wrapped tightly around one of Jaune’s arms. He had stayed in this position since he handed Jaune back the ‘reins’ as the blond had shot him a glare when he tried to sink down again.

“I can see it,” Jaune replied neutrally, his attention not moving from their rapidly approaching destination. The Grimm he stood atop let out a gurgling croon as it flapped its wings, fighting against its brutalised injuries and the pull of gravity.

Jaune should have possibly paid more attention to his mount's failing condition, but something else had enraptured him.

He sensed danger.

The ability to detect hazards and threats was a talent that he had honed to a razor's edge throughout the Eternal Night. He knew well that what had once been merely refined instinct had become something… more, just as he had through the tribulations he endured. Although his earlier years after his return somewhat dulled it, his training with his family and his regular ventures into the wilds sharpened it well.

Now, his sense was refined to the same degree as it had been beneath the Blood Moon, his blood singing a hymn that left him wired and alert. At first, he had thought it to be the many base defences pointing towards him, but it was not them that made his sense sing so.

Another stuttered flap from the Nevermore made up Jaune’s mind for him.

Releasing the hold of the Threaded Cane, he gripped in his right hand, Jaune reached into the Mist, ignoring Oto’s alarmed noises as he did so.

What he pulled through was a simple antique.

Peering through his Monocular, Jaune turned his sight to the wall of the airbase, first examining the large cannons pointed towards him and then the smaller turrets dotted along its length. While studying these, he spotted the Atlesian soldiers on the wall, their white armour in conjunction with the floodlights, making them easy to spot.

He saw that many were moving towards a single point somewhere more central to the southernmost wall and followed the stream to a cluster of activity.

It was there that the source of the danger he could sense was revealed and the mystery behind it discovered, for it was not himself personally that was in danger.

His sisters were surrounded by soldiers.

Soldiers who were armed.

Soldiers who were not all pointing their guns towards him.

… There were soldiers pointing guns at his sisters…

Jaune was going to kill someone.

Jaune dropped the Monocular back into the Mist, his hand shaking as he resisted the urge to crush the antique in his enraged grasp. At the same time, he threw away the other Threaded Cane, letting both whip-like weapons drop back into the Mist, relinquishing his control of the Nevermore entirely.

Jaune ignored Oto’s panicked tugs as the Faunus protested Jaune’s actions, but his words were lost to the sound of blood rushing into Jaune’s skull. All he could think about was getting to his sisters, damning anything that dared get in his way.

But his actions did not go unnoticed by the Alpha Nevermore as it let out a hiss and brought its wings down in a powerful downstroke. Jaune didn’t even budge from his spot as the heavily bled Grimm’s mightiest flap fell far short of what it could accomplish were it not so maimed.

However, its actions did remind Jaune that there was a foe he could reach at present.

His arm punched into the Mist, and he began to seek out one weapon in particular. This action did not go unnoticed by Oto, who began to enquire with great fervour about what Jaune was planning to do.

Jaune answered with a single word, his voice a low growl but still audible to the concerned Faunus, “Landing.”

The reality of Jaune’s arsenal, his complete arsenal, was that it was, in an almost irrefutable way… a part of him. It was built upon as he grew, increasing as his hellish journey progressed and shaped by the foes he encountered and overcame. The final sum was a collection of weapons that had drowned in as much blood as their wielder, slain man, Beast, Monster… and more.

The weapon he drew upon now… had bathed in the latter.

A weapon shaped not for Beasts… but the Kin.

It weighed on his arm heavily; it always did ever since he claimed it for his own, adding it to the selection of lethal armaments he kept. But this one, this one… how it dragged on his arm, yet Jaune knew he could swing it without issue or inhibition.

Jaune ran his left hand down his right arm, feeling the Mist, the ethereal, unreal substance that had no right to exist in the waking world. He felt as it drew back like the tide across the sand, and it was there in that warped sense of friction that Jaune felt the sensation transform.

From a cool Mist that pervaded dreams…

To the feel of coarse paper that crackled with energy.

Jaune pried his arm free and brought it before his face, where he cocked his arm and set the mechanisms within the weapon to move, readying it. The sound of metal sliding against metal, the gears slotting against one another as the potential energy within grew and grew.

A click, though quiet compared to the environment about him, resonated in his ears.

His weapon was primed. Lightning danced about his right arm, or more accurately, the weapon emblazoned upon his forearm. Its azure arcs raced across the metal, which had been enhanced time and time again through the most extraordinary feats of Blood Alchemy Jaune was capable of. His Tonitrus delivered a hellish field of electric fury with every swing that charred flesh both without and within.

This… this struck with all the raw might of lightning.

Jaune lunged forward; Oto’s hands had long since slipped away from his arm when lightning began to spawn in the air around him. Free of restraint and driven by the fresh revitalisation of fury in his blood, he burst forward in a single motion. He flew from between the Alpha Nevermore’s wings straight toward the Grimm’s long, thick neck, with his arm cocked back and weapon at the ready.

For a second, he soared through the darkness, across feathers blacker than night, with lightning and steel adorned upon his right arm. His Slayer Marks danced in the otherworldly blue of the azure arcs, and those depicting savagery and violence came to life as the energy bloomed.

His hand jerked on the Trick Weapon’s trigger when he swung forward, and the potential energy built up within was released. The weapon fired off just as the large, prominent tip, bathed in crackling sparks, made contact with the giant monster's feathered neck.

The raucous sound of grinding metal, the pounding percussion of a firing piston… All of this with the flash of light and the cloying darkness of the evening sky, enhanced by the moon hidden from sight by smoke and clouds…

It was as if lightning had spawned from the darkness.

The thunder roared away, and as the searing flash of his attack receded until once more, Jaune was visible.

But the Nevermore’s head was gone, blasted away and sent hurtling to the ground below with torn and ragged meat from what little of its neck it managed to retain.

But Jaune remained.

Perched atop the severed neck, lightning and steel adorned upon his arm, coated in a fresh layer of Grimm ‘blood’ so thick that it left him wholly concealed.

Save for his eyes.

Eyes that promised violence on a scale unfathomable to mortal men.

They were the eyes of a Hunter, the eyes of a Slayer.

They were the eyes of an Arc… and now they were descending rapidly towards the wall of the air base, and the men who had made the mistake of pointing their weapons at his sister.

“Why would you do that!?”

Jaune looked over his shoulder, face covered in the pitch-black viscera of the Nevermore, to meet the maddened gaze of Oto. The Faunus looked on with a heavy mixture of affront and terror on his face as he glared from his place between the Grimm’s wings.

Jaune didn’t answer; instead, he gave the fox a confused look, stemming his rage somewhat. “Why are you worried? You have Aura!”

Oto looked stunned before indignation, and another fresh dose of fear resurfaced. He panicked, “It doesn’t regenerate that fast!”

Jaune blinked, “Oh.” He felt somewhat abashed at having not considered that the Fox Faunus would still not have recovered from his previous ordeals. Jaune blamed his lack of experience and knowledge on the specific differences between Aura users or, more accurately, on the nature of Aura between individuals.

He didn’t waste any more time; while rude, he did not want the Fox Faunus to die after he had gone out of his way not to disembowel him. It would somewhat undercut the effort he was going through to try and make Jade proud.

He clambered over to the young Faunus, putting aside his anger for the moment by using his long, refined talent for compartmentalisation. The Nevermore was dropping rapidly, gaining speed with each moment as its body began to tumble in the air. Its trajectory would have it crashing at least a handful of yards from the base’s wall.

But where it would crash was less important than the fact that it was crashing with them still atop it.

Jaune’s arm dipped back into the Mist, exiting it in the same motion free of his Stake Driver, the crackle of electricity disappearing with the Trick Weapon. When he reached Oto, the Nevermore’s corpse had shifted so that its right wing was pointing towards the ground, its left flapping in the air behind it towards the sky.

Jaune was not struggling to move, but Oto screamed once more as his lower body flailed in the air.

Jaune’s mind was invaded with the stray thought of how odd it was to see someone with Aura who was so… lacklustre. The thought didn’t survive in his already busy mind long, though, as the pressure and the need to get to his sisters drove him to act.

With time against him, his options were limited.

Haste was his ally, so he went with simplicity.

“I’ll catch you,” Jaune said, his head close to Oto’s ears and his arm wrapped around Faunus’s midriff.

Oto’s head shot up in alarm, nearly driving the back of his head into Jaune’s nose; words formed on his lips, but Jaune did not allow him to utter even a syllable.

“WHAaaaa-“

His scream faded as Jaune’s throw sent the younger male soaring upwards with immense speed, prolonging his time in the air.

With that done, Jaune saw to himself.

He waited precisely until the Nevermore was as close to the wall as possible while still being above it in elevation.

His legs, already bunched up, were thrumming, the blood in his body racing in a mixture of excitement and the primal rage he once more allowed himself to feel. It all came together, racing crimson in his veins, the burning scorn in his eyes, his heart beating with such raw strength.

It quickened further, faster, until the exact point where he felt too full veins press against taught skin and their insides fill with what felt like lightning.

The sensation, the speed, the precipice of such explosive potential.

He knew this sensation well.

The Art of Quickening.

YVYVYVYVY

Numerous eyes shut in pain along the wall, and heads turned away from the approaching Grimm as a sudden flash of piercing light abruptly split the dark. When they looked back, those capable of seeing the large Grimm with clarity felt a sudden chill settle on their spines.

The Alpha Nevermore was headless.

Linda Blue had the best clarity of all those present; through the scope of her rifle, she was able to make out the brutalised severed neck of the now plummeting Grimm. But more than that, she could make out the figure atop the smoking stump, caked in a layer of Grimm blood so thick it all but concealed them entirely.

Save… for two very blue eyes, eyes that seemed to be staring right through her and carried an intense rage that did nothing to settle her.

Linda lowered her rifle to examine the two charges she had taken under her protection. She could see the same shade in both of their eyes, but theirs did not carry nearly the same weight. Finally, Linda turned to the Base Commander, the highest-ranking Atlesian tasked with overseeing the air base.

He was also the person who ordered that both Arc girls be arrested.

Honestly, the Base Commander had been a pain in her ass since she got assigned to the location, but until tonight, his irritability had been manageable. Linda could put him out of her mind mainly because, for the long and short of it, she was in no way accountable to him. Her duties required her to be an observer and representative of Vale’s Huntsman regarding any Atlas initiatives.

But this was an Atlesian Base on Valean soil; therefore, as long as Huntsman didn’t enter the base itself, there was little for her to do. Most of her work came from coordinating with the few Atlesian Huntsman who passed through the base, which had occurred enough times for her to count on one hand.

The reality was that this base might look like an Atlesian air base, but it was nothing more than a poorly disguised SDC private airport. Sure, the base was official on paper and fulfilled its function, but anyone who had given it the slightest amount of scrutiny would have seen the truth. Its primary use was facilitating travel for SDC ‘ambassadors’ between kingdoms.

This alone was irksome and caused no small number of issues, as the controversy around the SDC and its less-than-stellar practices had only grown in recent years. This is not to say that Atlas wasn’t already looked at with a certain degree of caution, as it was the most militant of the four kingdoms. International implications aside, it was the far more present effects that this state had on Linda that she was concerned with…

… Said implications being the fact that the Base Commander was a sycophantic bureaucrat who rose to the rank through numerous inside deals and considerable nepotism.

It had never been an issue until tonight, but since everything went to shit, his need to be heard and outright incompetence had cost lives. The mere fact that he had the audacity to state out loud with numerous witnesses that he would not aid the surrounding population by allowing them on base…

That act alone would cause numerous headaches that would have Atlas scrambling for possibly months to come.

But his call to arrest the girls might just be the last nail in his very real coffin.

“It’s coming this way!” An Atlesian soldier exclaimed, pointing towards the rapidly descending headless corpse of the Alpha Nevermore.

Linda, who had not looked away from the falling monster for even a second, was well aware of its corpse's trajectory and was not worried. It would fall well short of the wall, but the soldiers around her were unaware of this.

With a flick of her eyes, she saw that neither of the Arc girls had moved. The younger girl enthusiastically jumped on the spot while holding her older sister in a one-armed hug. The older seemed stunned, but the smile on her face emitted such pure joy that it was clear how she felt.

But with the same glance, Linda also saw the soldiers, who, while distracted, still had their weapons pointed in the girls' general direction, though they were lowered at present.

Linda’s eyes widened as she realised exactly how bad things were about to go, turning from her scope to hurriedly bark an order she prayed these idiots would obey.

“Stan-“

She was too late.

The girl’s brother had arrived.

It was a blur, literally.

Her eyes turned to the soldiers, and her words locked in her throat as she saw the movement from her peripheral—just the movement. It's like trying to find obsidian in a pool of ink. By the time she moved her eyes back around, it was to witness the corpse of the Alpha Nevermore splatter into the ground, tearing up the soil and grass.

The broken body of the Grimm finally slowed to rest, the noise of its impact dying off as all eyes watched on with bated breath. The girls were leaning over, peering down, eager to catch even a glimpse of their older sibling. They were not alone.

Linda didn’t spare the corpse a second glance; she had seen him move; her eyes looked about as she took a step back, shifting her feet, centring them.

Ready for anything.

She saw him again as a blur.

Her eyes, the eyes of a professional marksman, a Huntsman, someone who trained with their Aura-enhanced senses for years… still struggled to see him.

He descended from above, and his arrival was sudden and targeted. He managed to land with none save herself the wiser. Even when his momentum haltered, she found herself, a professional Huntress, struggling to understand what her eyes were seeing.

He was like a ghost, present but immaterial. She swore she could see through him, almost like he was not entirely where he stood. The disintegrating Grimm gore that had painted him almost entirely made the matter all the more difficult.

She unfocused her gaze, the strain of trying to spot him aggravating her sight and in doing so, saw the bigger picture.

He was in front.

Not of her, no, there was enough space between them that she could have her rifle centred on his chest and a round punched into him before he could reach her.

She was confident enough in her talents for that much, at least.

Not his sisters either, which she had expected. The girls still hadn’t turned, unaware of their brother’s presence, as Linda’s thoughts blitzed through her mind as she took everything in. But their brother was behind them… planting his sisters between himself and her.

The ones he was in front of, though… were the ones who had pointed their guns at the girls that she had not disarmed.

The boy had landed practically at their feet, putting himself between his sisters and danger.

She could already tell things were about to explode before he made his first move.

He was fast.

She suspected as much from her eyes struggling to track him when he disembarked the Nevermore, but it was another thing up close. In a snap, he was up from his hunched landing, his body moving as his leg came up like the swing of a blade.

He was flexible.

The limb swung in an arcing crescent as he pivoted on the spot, coming up so far at one point that she was sure it would have been flush with his chest. Of the trio who had pointed their guns at the girls' backs, his kick collided with the one furthest to the right, nearest the edge of the outside of the wall.

He never stood a chance.

Linda watched as the immense kinetic force behind such a kick crashed into the side of the soldier’s helmeted head. She watched as the helmet possibly saved the man’s life as the armour warped, cracked and was rendered useless, and its wearer was picked up and shunted to the side brutally.

The soldier to his left didn’t have time to react before the full weight of a grown man crashed into him with enough momentum that his feet left the ground.

The two fell to the floor in a heap, the first limp and unmoving, and Linda was still not sure whether or not they were alive. The second was stunned and wheezing, winded by the surprise impact.

The last, the one furthest to the left, had enough time to open his mouth wide, an exclamation of shock starting to pass his lips.

The girl’s brother was already moving again.

‘Where did he get a gun?’ Linda thought as her eyes widened upon realising that the swift young man was now armed, though she wasn’t sure how.

The gun in his holster was still there and she had not seen another one on his person.

Linda watched, nearly stunned, as the girl’s brother drove the barrel of his pistol into the soldier's open mouth with enough force that he was gagged into silence. He kept shoving until the Atlesian soldier kneeled, head back looking up with no way to retreat.

In the time it took him to do this, the young man had also drawn another gun from somewhere and was pointing it over Linda’s shoulder.

Everything seemed to go still and silent. Only the noise of a bouncing ruined helmet clattering to the floor was audible, as everyone seemed to hold their breath.

Linda took this opportunity to get a good look at the girl’s brother.

The first thing she took note of was his height. She had never really met the Hunter Commander of Reach, but she had seen him in passing, and the person before her might be his match. Though he was not nearly as wide as his father, his physique was far more narrow than Cloud’s broad frame.

Linda suspected that was his mother’s influence.

She didn’t miss that the boy had pulled off the Hellebore special, his weapon still resting in the mouth of a terrified Atlesian.

That worried her.

Head-hunters and Outriders had a close working relationship, considering the lengths some targets would go to avoid their imminent demise. It was sometimes necessary that a Head-0hunter cross over into other kingdoms whilst pursuing their quarry, and when that happened, an Outrider would often be used as a point of contact.

It was this that allowed Linda to hear… stories.

While she was relatively new to the Outrider scene, her new peers were very free with what little information they were allowed to share. While specifics were more often than not classified, the nature and a few somewhat vague stories of a retired Head-Hunter were far more available.

What she learned was that there is more to fear in this world than Grimm.

She glanced at the boy's downright chilling glare with his weapon lodged in someone's mouth, and she could not help but think that the boy was definitely his mother’s son.

She tried to look for more details, specifically where he might have stored any other weapons she had failed to spot… but still, she could only find the two in his hands and the one on his hip. Everywhere else she looked was covered wholly by the layer of Grimm guts that covered him from head to toe.

Even now, as it was starting to disintegrate and flake off his body, there were such quantities of it that most of his features remained concealed. She couldn’t even make out the colour of his hair as it was caked in the pitch-coloured fluid.

She could see that he was shoeless, the brutal kick before having sent a vast amount of liquid coating him, shooting off. She was also fairly positive he didn’t have a shirt and that his pants were torn around one of his legs.

But more than appearance there was his posture, his presence.

He was still, unnaturally so, his weapon still lodged in the mouth of a terrified man who had gone rigid as a statue as they did everything in their power not to move. The only thing they could do from that terrifying position was look with their eyes, and so they did; their orbs hidden beneath their helmet sought help anywhere, from anyone.

But his darting eyes found none.

He let out a muffled whimper as the reality of the situation settled in, and still, the tall young man did not so much as flinch, his blue orbs steady as he stared down the force surrounding him.

Linda, for her part, was preoccupied with devising a method to de-escalate the situation so she wouldn’t have to fight the very on-edge Arc.

Before she could come up with anything, though, the kid moved in a slow, smooth manner, bringing his gun up so it was no longer pointed over her shoulder. Linda was surprised by this but before she had time to consider the action the young man bit his gun.

‘What the- huh?’ Linda’s private thoughts again jumped tracks as the girl’s brother looked up, his eyes darting skywards as if he were looking for something.

It was stupid in the moment, but Linda found herself also looking skyward…

Then she heard it.

‘Screaming?’

Linda’s eyes darted back to see the young man had left his gun clamped between his teeth. Meanwhile, his arm had stretched up and out.

All the while, the screaming became more audible.

“-aaaAAAAH-“

He snatched a figure out of the air, their terrified hollering cutting off with a jolt as the tall, threatening Arc suddenly arrested their momentum.

So suddenly, in fact, it flared their Aura.

‘Shit!’ Linda thought as she saw the flash of sandy light from the surprise new arrival. She was already nervous with the blond but throwing another in the mix-

‘No, stay calm,’ Linda thought as she breathed. The new one might have Aura, but he was beaten; she could see the injuries on his face, and the Arc had to catch him. He was likely untrained or, if not, on the edge of exhaustion.

Although an untrained Aura user was not great, it was a threat she was far more readily able to handle.

The newest arrival to the steadily growing shit show Linda was unlucky enough to be playing audience to, took his bearings slowly. His wide eyes paused on the ground so close to his face that he could have stretched out his tongue and touched it.

Then she notices the new arrivals ears.

‘… And the hits keep on coming,’ Linda disparaged as she realised that the Girl’s brother had brought a Faunus. ‘A Faunus with Aura in an Atlesian base that was already attacked once by the White Fang…’

“Thank you,” the Faunus uttered, looking up, his chin pressed to his chest so he could meet the tall Arc’s gaze.

Much to Linda’s amazement, the tall monolith that was the girl’s brother seemed almost genial, in a silent looming manner, as he repaid the Faunus’s gratitude with a nod.

With that act, though, it was like a spell broke. The moment of unsteady silence tinged with the potential for immense violence was pushed away ever so slightly. It was subtle, but nearly all felt it, and Linda saw more than one person shift on the spot as all eyes became a little more twitchy.

The change was doing nothing for her own nerves.

But there were two who seemed wholly ignorant of it.

“Jaune!”

 Linda’s eyes darted between the two girls she had taken under her protection and their brother and was confronted with just how absurd the sight was.

The girls, children both, mussed up something fierce, with bruises and scratches and looking like they had gone through hell. But at that moment, they both exuded such joy and relief. The love Linda could hear in their voices as they called out their siblings' names and dashed to be close to him, pushing aside the budding tension to be with their kin was heartening.

But the absurdity arose from what- who, they dashed towards.

Their brother, standing like a monument built to promised violence, armed and ready to take a life, poised to strike. The disintegrating Grimm essence and his movements had him looking like some wraith, an abominable spectre that screamed danger.

But as much dread as he exhumed, it was tempered, tainted, diluted by the two girls who slammed into his midsection and the Faunus boy who scrambled to get out of their way.

For a second, a mere heartbeat, Linda got to see something besides killer in the Arc male’s eyes as they flickered to look at his sisters wrapped around his torso.

But it was gone just as swiftly.

Their eyes met, and she smelt something she couldn’t quite put her finger on as she wrestled with the sensation of being under a microscope.

She shifted her posture, ensured her rifle slung over her back was not pointed towards him, and tried her best to exude a non-threatening presence. She waited, wanting him to engage first and approach her to avoid setting him off. He looked away first, eyes darting ever so slightly within their sockets as he examined her.

She had already done so but found her eyes drawn once more to-

The second gun was gone.

‘How?’ She hadn’t even seen him move, but his left hand was empty, pressed flat against one of his sister’s backs. Her eyes moved to his right hand and found the pistol still jammed in the Atlesian’s mouth.

Once more, she felt uneasy.

There were too many unknowns; she didn’t like how on edge the boy was, nor the others around her, who only listened because of her tenuous authority. Then there were the girls she was supposed to protect, plus the addition of the random Faunus with Aura.

Now, his weapons were disappearing and reappearing.

She narrowed her eyes at the still visible pistol and saw its peculiar design, the weapon unquestionably custom-made.

The uneasiness grew, and she looked back to meet the Arc male’s eyes.

They were there, waiting.

Her uneasiness didn’t abate, but at least it stopped worsening.

Then he spoke.

His voice was smooth, carrying through the air as if volume were not a concern. He uttered only a single word, devoid of inflection of emotion, merely the calm tenor of his tone, “Outrider.”

Linda felt the odd urge to glance towards her tattoo but resisted, instead focusing on displaying a welcoming façade. She hated this diplomacy stuff; it was why she asked for this post when she couldn’t score a Vacuan one.

She had figured a small base outside a major Valean city wouldn’t require much from her role.

The internal beating she was giving herself defied reason.

“It’s nice to meet the girl’s brother,” Linda replied, reminding the tall male of the girl’s presence, hoping it would stop him from doing anything… sudden.  

He dropped his head, but not his eyes, as he gave her a nod, “Jaune Arc.”

“Linda Blue, Huntress, Valean Outriders,” the redhead spoke, leaning towards formality if only to try and remind all present of precisely who they were dealing with.

The sound of a boot scuffing on the ground had Jaune’s head darting minutely to the side, his eyes glancing over his shoulder.

Silence returned with force, and all froze anew.

The soldier with a gun in his mouth let out a loud hiss, his hands clenching and unclenching.

Linda licked her lips, “I think it might help everyone here relax if you were to take your gun out of the nice soldier's mouth.”

The blond's eyes were back on her.

He spoke, his voice unchanged, “Did my sisters give you the passcode?”

The question was unexpected, but Linda nodded, “Jade did; she even remembered all the lines.”

“Yet these soldiers had their weapons pointed at my siblings,” Jaune stated, his tone still level as he spoke. His head turned until he was looking at the man he held hostage, “are they not under your protection?”

Linda wanted so badly to grab the Base Commander and hurl them from the wall in that instant.

“I have no official authority over these soldiers, and they were merely following orders,” Linda explained. “This whole thing is a bit of a misunderstanding, a fumble on both sides. The girls were in an area they weren’t supposed to be and…”

Linda trailed off.

She had no choice as the words refused to come out of her mouth.

The reason was that enough of the Grimm gore had disintegrated off the young man’s body to reveal what lay beneath.

‘Blood…’ Not the stuff that comes out of Grimm that was only called such for ease; no, this was real blood. As the oil black of the Grimm’s remains flaked off, Linda was expecting to see skin, but as time passed, only more and more sanguine red was revealed.

Linda recognised the scent she had smelt earlier now.

It was the smell of low tide and blood.

“Who’s order?”

Linda blinked and forced her eyes away from the steadily growing red to meet the blue orbs of the blood-soaked man in front of her. “Pardon?”

“Who ordered the soldiers to point their weapons at my sisters?” He asked.

Linda held his gaze as her mind buzzed with ideas about the best response, but her efforts proved pointless when countless heads turned to face the Base Commander.

She resisted the urge to face-palm.

‘Fuck requesting; Rust is going to give me that Brother’s be damned transfer, dammit.’

Jaune’s face transformed as his relaxed features sharpened, and a frown crept onto his face. The tension of before disappeared, or more accurately, it transformed, and now there was an energy, as if something was growing, building towards some inevitable crescendo.

‘Right, fuck this sideways speaking bullshit,’ Linda decided, shifting her posture to a more ready stance.

Jaune noticed, and his eyes immediately went back to her.

“This base is under his authority, but the girls are under mine,” Linda stated her tone no longer the passive charade of before but the far more matter-of-fact tone she usually employed. “Like I said, just a fumble on both our parts.”

The boy seemed fairly responsive to her more honest speech, his head lilting to the side as he glanced towards his sisters.

“… I had to see you,” Jade whispered low enough that it was only thanks to her enhanced senses that Linda heard.

“We kind of disobeyed what Ms Linda said…” Sky added, louder than Jade.

Jaune paused, frozen nearly, and then gave a single nod before he removed his gun from the soldier's mouth.

The man, his mouth now free of the barrel of Jaune’s peculiar firearm, scrambled away on his hands, dragging his shaky legs. Jaune didn’t move to stop him; he didn’t so much as glance his way.

With the guard away, though, things didn’t calm, though Linda wished they would. Instead, the Faunus scooted closer to Jaune, the shorter boy feeling uncomfortable around the many armed Atlesians.

Linda couldn’t even blame him.

“Thanks for letting him go; now I know things are tense, but how about-“

“This base is property of the Atlesian military, and you are currently trespassing! I am at this moment placing you under arrest for this transgression; Soldiers seize him!”

Linda swung around, her face not even trying to hide her raw, murderous intent as she sought out the Base Commander. She was trying to calm things, spare his men, and save lives only for his own actions-

She found him quickly as he hadn’t moved from where she last saw him, but the fool was now a terrified mess, his limbs shaking as he stood there trying to look bigger than he was.

Tap

Linda swung her head back around, as did numerous others, to the source of the noise that cut through the echoing silence produced by the Base Commander's order.

Tap

Jaune was drumming his index finger on the side of his pistol.

Tap

His distinctive blue eyes locked on the base commander, his head listing to the right to the point his chin was nearly touching his shoulder. He was eyeing the Base Commander the same way one would a particularly irritating pest.

Linda didn’t miss that both of his sisters were also glaring at the man, though their rage wasn’t as intense as their brothers.

It lacked… refinement.

But the looks of fury didn’t end there, and Linda soon realised that the powder keg the area around her had become was of a totally different make. Many soldiers had turned to the Base Commander with looks of outrage barely hidden behind their helmets.

They all knew what the Base Commander was ordering, what he was throwing them at.

Those who weren’t frowning at the imbecilic commanding officer were instead twitching, recoiling or backpedalling away from the blood-covered Arc, who continued to drum his finger on his gun.

Looking at Jaune was like looking at a visceral reminder of their mortality. Linda had seen it before; all Kingdom-sponsored Huntsman tried their absolute best to avoid it, at least they did in Vale.

The Kingdom of Vale worked extremely hard to present their Huntsman as heroes, beacons of hope whom you can look to for protection from the ever-present danger of the Grimm. Many Huntsman worked to further this effect with colourful, eye-catching clothing, a tradition from when Vale still employed knights.

Vale focused on this not only to increase the public's faith in Huntsman and thus increase the sense of security they could project… but also to draw attention away from the darker aspects of Huntsman.

It was notoriously something Atlas never did.

Grimm are soulless abominations of seemingly unending numbers who come in a myriad of terrifying shapes and sizes and have seemingly hunted sapient life since their conception. They are a constant looming threat, possessing a constitution that allows them to ignore almost all damage that is not lethal or debilitating and makes them capable of killing any sapient life with startling ease.

And Huntsman…

Huntsman kill Grimm.

It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots and realise that a Huntsman who is capable of tearing apart monsters that tank bullets with their bare hands could just as easily slaughter people.

Many soldiers were receiving a fresh reminder of this terrifying reality as they glanced between their commanding officer and Jaune. For his part, Jaune wasn’t particularly trying to cause this effect as far as Linda could tell; instead, it was an unfortunate side effect of his calm rage.

As well as the copious amount of blood that clung to his skin.

‘Huh, he has tattoos,’ Linda thought as she spotted the illustrations on his skin and traced that pattern before it disappeared beneath another crimson stain. ‘A lot of tattoos.’

Jaune moved.

Everyone reacted, stilling or shifting. Linda was no different as she brought a hand around to wrap around the strap of her rifle.

However, at this point, she is not sure who she would point it at.

‘On one hand, the slasher-looking brother of the girls I took under my protection… on the other hand is the grossly incompetent nepo-baby who has a death wish…’

Jaune had brought his pistol up to rest on his shoulder while his other hand, which had been resting on Sky’s back, swiped through his fringe, pushing his hair back. Linda wondered if his hair was as blond as his siblings because, right at the moment, it was so filthy that it was the colour of muddy brown… with a noticeable tinge of red.

“I…” Jaune began, his voice coming out cold and sharp. “Have had a very long night and am, therefore, rather running on empty as far as tolerance is concerned. However, I am willing to ignore the fact that you ordered…” He paused, taking a breath before continuing. “Weapons to be pointed at my sisters as well as that last order… if you keep your distance from me and mine for the foreseeable future.”

Jaune’s words immediately captured the attention of everyone around him and turned the Base Commander’s face a burning shade of red. Linda wanted to act, to reach out and slap the Base Commander hard enough that it might knock some sense into his head… or the teeth from his skull.

But she couldn’t without opening herself up to a slew of issues.

So she could only watch as the Base Commander fell back on what he could, egged on by a startling lack of self-preservation instinct and an astounding deficit in dealing with reality.

Bluster and entitlement.

“You dare threaten me! I am an officer of the Atlesian Military, and some filth-coated Valean thug will not cow me!” The Base Commander hollered, his voice cracking multiple times as he puffed himself up. It failed horribly, his lack of real training showing itself in his body's poor conditioning, leaving him with gangly limbs but a pudgy gut.

“Soldiers of Atlas, this is a direct order! Arrest this man and his delinquent sisters- the animal, too! If they resist, execute-“

He didn’t get to finish as a soldier had driven the butt of their rifle into his sternum with enough force that the Base Commander was near folded. The sudden impact had forcefully shunted the air from his lungs, but the Base Commander still looked up, stunned at what had happened.

This was a mistake as the soldier followed up his first blow with another, only this time, the butt of his rifle managed to crack the officer right across the jaw.

He dropped, helmeted head bouncing on the floor, unconscious before he even hit the ground.

No one said a word, the damning things the Base Commander had said seeming to linger in the air like a foul stench.

Linda waited, one hand on her rifle, for how Jaune would react, all the while also concerned for the chaos that could unravel from the massive failure in military discipline.

A loud clack had Linda twisting to see the same soldier from before, the one who had knocked the Base Commander out, standing with his arms out in front of him. His gun was resting on the ground, and his helmet was still rocking back and forth.

The man was a human, with brown hair buzzed short, though longer than Linda’s own. His eyes were murky brown, and his fair complexion had darkened from many hours in the sun.  

He spoke, but Linda was utterly baffled by his words.

“Hail, Slayer…”

His words, however, clearly affected the Arcs, or at least they did for both Jade and Jaune; Sky seemed as confused as Linda. The Faunus that had been using Jaune as a shield was so damn lost he looked as if he was an entire world away.

Jaune calmly moved his sisters to the side, his pistol again falling to his side as he stepped towards the brown-eyed soldier.

Linda’s confusion only multiplied when Jaune began to speak in a language she had never heard before. She couldn’t even begin to infer what he was saying as his steady tone made deciphering any subtext beyond her abilities.

The soldier grew a smile that transformed into a startled laugh. It was a stuttering laugh that he quickly forced down as he did his best to reply, though his own words came out stilted and choppy.

Eventually, he gave up trying to communicate in the odd language and returned to common: “Forgive me, Slayer. My Grandfather could speak the old tongue, but he passed before he could teach me it in full.”

Linda looked back to Jaune, beginning to feel like she had been sitting at a particularly exciting tennis match with how much she had been doing so since the boy's arrival.

‘What the fuck!’ Linda thought in aggravation when she realised that, once more, the boy had made his weapon disappear. She gripped her gun tighter and ignored the weapon’s mysterious disappearance, instead observing as things played out between Jaune and the soldier.

“Mm,” Jaune hummed, acknowledging the soldier's words, “I asked you your name and that of your clan.”

“Norrel Silt of Clan… ah, Clan… shit,” the soldier cursed before his eyes widened the name coming to him, “Clan Leira!”

“I see… you're not from Atlas, are you?” Jaune asked.

This question made the soldier smile, “Mantle born and raised… you’ll find that to be the case for damn near all of us.”

“All of you?” Jaune asked, taking in the many soldiers who were nodding in agreement.

Norrel’s smile faded as he explained, “White Caps tend to feel uncomfortable around large numbers of armed mud thumpers, so it's rare for us to get posts in the capital, and they don’t like too many of us in one place. We’re barely above Faunus in their eyes,” Norrel finished, looking as if he would very much like to spit.

“Hmm… what about that one?”

“The powers above weren’t going to waste any real Atlas talent on this mockery of a post… and the SDC was all too happy to give their own opinion, so we got that,” Norrel explained, pointing at the very passed-out Base Commander.

“White Caps?” Sky wondered aloud.

“Folks who actually live in Atlas,” Linda answered, familiar with the term.

Jade stepped forward; her knife hilt still clasped in her hand as she glared at the Base Commander’s slumped form. “You just knocked out your superior officer… how do the ‘White Caps’ feel about that?”

Norrel shrugged, “Damn shame these helmets hide our faces, isn’t it.” Norrel turned to the gathered soldiers and shouted for all to hear, “Hey, who knocked out the SDC’s fluffer?”

“Some dickhead in a helmet!” Someone shouted out, opening up a small slice of levity that went a long way to clear up some of the residual tension. It wasn’t laughter by any means, but it certainly helped.

“You know… there are still likely to be consequences,” Linda chimed in, not wanting the soldiers to get ahead of themselves.

Despite her words, though, Norrel seemed unbothered, “After all the shit this idiot pulled tonight, ma'am, there is no way that news of this doesn’t make it to someone competent. Hell, it might make it all the way up to the General himself, and if that happens, I'm confident I can plead my case.”

“Really?” Linda exclaimed, not convinced.

“Yes, ma’am, I have enough witnesses present that I am sure I can expect at least some degree of leniency when the full scope of the Base Commander’s failures come to light,” Norrel doubled down. “After all, his last order would have assuredly seen us torn to pieces against a trained Au-“

Norris cut himself off midsentence as a faint yet distinctive sound carried through the nighttime air.

It was a howl.

Linda had faced about in a heartbeat; the anxiety of the previous standoff returned as she began to draw on the worst of conclusions.

Another joined the first howl they heard. It was different in every way, and it was closer.

It was joined by another, which was followed by two more, and then even more distorted, awful wails joined the growing cacophony.

Screeches, howls, wails, roars…

The Grimm were screaming.

“Fuck,” Linda cursed lowly, her words coming out as a breath that dragged on her lips.

“… What is that?” the Faunus who Jaune caught asked, his large ears twitching atop his head.

“Ma’am?”

Linda looked over her shoulder to see the many soldiers looking around, clearly rattled by the ongoing din. Jaune stepped up and stood to her left, his eyes of stark blue looking out into the night with a searching intensity.

“Jaune?”

The tall, possibly blond, boy looked down at his younger sibling and answered her calmly. “The Horde… they broke it.”

Unaware of the scope of this matter, every person present paused to digest that information, the Faunus being the first to speak, hope sparking to life in his dark eyes. “That’s good, right? It means the city was able to beat back the Grimm.”

Linda could hear that he was not alone in this presumption; in any other case, they would be right.

“No,” Jaune answered succinctly.

“Huh?”

Jaune, still looking out into the dark of the night, explained, "This base is located almost directly south of the Breach. With the Horde broken, every Alpha Grimm, those with even a modicum of self-preservation in them, will immediately retreat via that path of least resistance.”

Linda could see Faunus frowning, but he clearly didn’t understand the full scope of things. She decided to take over, “Grimm, especially those within a Horde, are even more affected by the influence of Alphas. That means every Grimm in that district, every Grimm in Bastion, and even those not yet in the city will follow the Alpha… which are heading south.”

Silent horror was the best way to describe the look of the Faunus’s features, and more than one soldier shared that expression with the Faunus.

The tall Arc, who until mere moments ago had been Linda’s biggest concern, finally stopped staring off into the dark of the night to address her instead. “This base is compromised… isn’t it?”

Linda nodded, “White Fang saboteurs hit us earlier and caused all manner of havoc.”

The tall Arc continued to meet her gaze, but Linda could see how the Faunus shuffled closer to the towering human. His ears perked up as he accomplished the impossible and looked even more uncomfortable than he did previously.

In less stressful times, Linda would question the Faunus for such a reaction, especially given earlier events, but Jaune Arc had other plans.

“What about the defences?” the young man asked, looking towards one of the heavy cannons situated atop the wall.

“Less than half are operational,” Linda answered.

“Airships?” Jaune asked, turning so that he could look towards the interior of the air base instead.

“Grounded,” was Linda’s brief response.

At last, Jaune turned to the older woman, his eyes holding a fraction of his earlier rage, “Communications?”

“Cut.”

The Arc didn’t speak; he just met Linda’s matter-of-fact stare with his that Linda swore glowed for a second.

Though… that could have just been their distinct colour and the rather glaring flood lights.

Jaune looked down, breaking their staring contest, his eyes bouncing to his sisters, then to the Faunus, and finally settling on Norrel.

“What about weapons?” the towering young man asked the soldier.

The soldier smiled, straightening his poster, “The base is fully stocked.”

Jaune nodded, “Ammunition?”

“Swimming in it,” Norrel replied, his confidence bleeding into his fellow soldiers who were watching on, captivated.

Jaune seemed surprised by this but his final question was asked in a much more enthusiastic tone, at least by his standards. “Manpower?”

Norrel turned about, “Soldiers!”

The change was drastic as all present, who were not currently slumped on the floor, straightened themselves and stood to attention.

Norrel turned back around, his smile gone as he was all business, “We didn’t join the army to be SDC cargo hauliers; you Huntsman, tell us where we can be of the most use, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

Linda, hearing the honesty in his words, wasn’t all that surprised by his declaration. For as long as she had been stationed on this base, she had seen how the soldiers were treated by both the Base Commander and the SDC officials he hosted.

“Well then,” Jaune began, a quirked half smile on his face as he glanced towards Linda, looking for her acknowledgment.

Linda didn’t know such a small expression could radiate such bloodlust but was glad that the Arc was willing to fight more than just people. Not that she had expected otherwise after watching the boy somehow decapitate an Alpha Nevermore.

‘You know, after he finished using it as a taxi,’ Linda thought, amused by the absurdity of such an act.

Seeing that both the Arc boy and the soldier were waiting on her, Linda cleared her throat.

“As this base is at present playing host to a number of Valean refugees, I am declaring this outpost to be under my authority as a Huntsman of the kingdom of Vale!” Linda declared loudly that one little line would cause numerous headaches in her future.

It would spare her many more.

One less drop in the proverbial bucket, but future Linda would be grateful all the same.

Norrel nodded before pausing, “Ah, how do we address you, ma’am? Specialist?”

“Huntress Blue, though keeping with ma’am will suffice,” Linda responded, not wanting to enter the complications of assuming a rank in the Atlas Military. She would honestly rather shoot herself in the foot.

Without Aura.

“Understood, ma’am.”

“With that sorted…” Linda looked to Jaune, who was peering over the wall, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Linda found the Arc boy to be a can of worms. She had not forgotten that those who travelled with the boy had declared that he did not possess Aura. Though that could have been their error, it was a difficult one to make.

Then there was the blood… it was a lot of blood, but she did not have time to address it with the rapidly approaching deadline bearing down on them.

Then there was his reaction and treatment of all those around him as threats; the boy had no trouble putting others on edge. But more than that, he was talented. He had training, she was sure, but more than that, he had actual ability, and if her instincts weren’t wrong, he was dangerous.

‘Right now… you need that,’ Linda reminded herself.

All she needed from him was his ability to kill Grimm, and based on what she had witnessed, he had that, if nothing else. But they would need more than that if they were to hold the base and keep its occupants safe.

She didn’t need a crazed killer; she required a Huntsman.

No doubt having felt her eyes on him, the blood-covered Arc straightened up and turned to address the two, the steel in his voice as he spoke giving Linda hope that he would prove his mettle.

However what he asked made her wonder how much of the base would be standing when they were done.

‘Seven words should not be that damn ominous,’ Linda lamented in her head as she realised there would be even more headaches in her future.

The words that caused her such stress…

“How much Fire Dust do you have?”