The so-called Vespera kept squirming, trying to fight back, but she was as weak as… well, a child. No way her noodle arms were going to pose any danger in this position. Could a useless little thing like this really be the one she claims to be?

You remembered her fumbling with that latch, like she was desperate to open that door. Maybe whatever was inside had some clues you were after. Maybe she wanted to turn on some security system, or maybe that room held the real bastard behind it all.

You wanted to check it out. A metal door? Looked solid, sure, but no door had ever stood a chance against your lockpicks. And if they failed, well, nothing a solid dose of violence couldn't handle.

But first, you had to make sure this brat didn’t escape. Wouldn’t be fun if she ran off while you were poking around her room. You could always just break her legs. That’d solve the problem real quick.

“That’s a good idea.” Shit. That voice again. If it agreed, it was probably a bad idea.

“You don’t happen to have some rope lying around, do ya?” you muttered, more to the room than anyone else. You shoved her face into the floor with casual ease, still scanning for anything useful nearby.

“You think I’m an idiot?” the girl snapped, her voice only slightly muffled by her position. “Like hell I’m gonna help you capture me. If I could move, I’d spit in your face, dumb bitch.”

“I approve of your temper.” A smirk appeared near your lips. She reminded you of yourself, back when you were still a teen. Out of sheer pity and mercy, you decided not to break her legs. Good attitude deserved a little reward, after all.

---

Whatever this lock was, it sure as hell wasn’t mechanical. Your picks didn’t fit, not even the electronic ones. You tried sending sparks into the circuit, but it was dead. No power. This had no chance of working.

And the muffled noises of the girl grunting behind you weren’t doing your focus any favors.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll muzzle you with your underwear.” You turned to face her, tied up, gagged with a strip of red cloth that was lying around. What had you used to tie her up? Cables. Thick ones, ripped from all the mess around you. Tough enough to restrain an adult, let alone someone her size. No way she was slipping out. “You oughta thank me for pickin’ clean clothes for the gag.”

She thrashed again, writhing on the floor like some tied-up cattle. Reminded you of a fish flopping on land, amusing, but mostly just irritating.

“Fuck it. Looks like I’ll have to break this thing.” You slipped your picks back into your coat sleeve and stepped back, chains swaying in the dark, silent room. You said it out loud just to wound the pride of the brat.

“You only know how to break things, huh? That’s all you’re good at.” She managed to move the clothing gag to the side. It wasn’t that secure, after all. “No wonder you work for them. Why would someone blessed like you take orders from a bunch of nasty, rich assholes?”

“Me? Blessed?” You let out a dry laugh. “The fuck are you talkin’ about?” Blessed? You, the one that was born at sea in a ship filled with scum, the one that had to scrape your way to the top, became a merc worth fearing? The one whose own family decided to stab in the back, even after all the shit you had to endure? Stupid girl, talking about shit like she really knew how the world was like.

But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know shit about you. No way she could’ve dug that deep into the past. You gagged her again, tighter this time, making damn sure she stayed quiet. “Keep quiet, or I’ll cut your goddamn vocal cords.”

Rage. Yeah, family. A touchy subject. But you could use that rage. Channel it. Turn it into something useful for the situation.

A few spins for momentum, a shift of weight, a twist of the wrist…

All part of the wind-up, your own brutal song. A crescendo of slashing arcs crashing against the metal door.

It held for a few seconds. Not bad. Not much could take your kind of fury for that long. Metal screamed against metal. Splinters of wood cracked loose. The roof and floor shuddered under the shockwaves of your strikes. Would it alert everyone in the house? Yeah, most likely. But fuck it. If anyone was stupid enough to come running, they’d get a face full of your rage. Poor bastards.

Your chest tightened. You felt cold. Nostalgia, suffocating and slow. Flickers of memory hit you in wounds from the past. Your family. The sadness that always followed. Nothing made you feel more useless than reliving that. And those thoughts were harder to kill than the damned voice that kept showing up in your head. Still, that annoying bastard at least kept you distracted. Maybe the voice wasn’t so bad.

The door finally buckled and crashed inward, folding under the pressure. It was already halfway to pieces, but the frame around it gave out first.

And inside… A wide, open closet. No clothes. No dresses. Just rows of humanoid bodies, metal husks, hanging like meat in a freezer. Most of them broken. Some still under construction.

And every damn one of them wore the same smug look. Black markings near their lips, translucent wings made of an unknown material sprouting from their backs, all looking way too much like butterflies.

Yup. No mistaking it. These were the so-called Vespera androids, the ones you’d been itching to tear apart. Deactivated. Incomplete. Abandoned in the freezing dark of this freaky workshop.

“No fucking way you made all this. How the fuck did you pull it off?” You stepped into the open closet, spotting scattered machinery, plating, circuits, lights, tools, wires and other similar shit.

The girl hummed behind you. Oh, right. Still gagged. Not like she could answer.

You were too wrapped up in the creepy tech and the flashing memory that had clawed its way back into your skull. Just long enough to not notice the door of the bedroom swing open.

A burly bastard in overpriced old-style clothes stepped inside with a flashlight raised, sweeping across the room.

The beam hit the girl on the floor first.

“My love! What happened to you? What’s going on?!” he cried, stumbling forward, kneeling at her side, fumbling to untie her. “I heard a commotion from your room, and I find you like… like this!” His voice cracked. He was panicking.

He didn’t look like a butler.

No. You knew that voice. The same one you heard echoing through the old basement when you snuck into this place.

Was he her father?

> Intervene. She’s your damn bounty, and this guy doesn’t get a say. You’re already pissed, and letting this slip through your fingers would ruin your whole goddamn day. Maybe he knows something too. Another target worth for interrogation.
> Stay hidden. He’s locked onto her. Use the shadows, let him talk. Jumping out too soon might scare him.
> Knock him out. A distracted man in a dark room? Easy. Just drop on him and move on. No need to drag this out.
> Other (Write in).

>>6281764
>> Knock him out. A distracted man in a dark room? Easy. Just drop on him and move on. No need to drag this out.

>>6281764
>Knock him out. A distracted man in a dark room? Easy. Just drop on him and move on. No need to drag this out.

>>6281764
>Intervene. She’s your damn bounty, and this guy doesn’t get a say. You’re already pissed, and letting this slip through your fingers would ruin your whole goddamn day. Maybe he knows something too. Another target worth for interrogation.

>>6281764
> Knock him out. A distracted man in a dark room? Easy. Just drop on him and move on. No need to drag this out.

>>6281764

The guy was too enthralled with his daughter to notice you crouched in the dark, open closet. The kid was freaking out, trying to warn him about you, but he didn’t get it. Good thing you gagged her.

You held your breath for a brief instant.

Then, bam. You blinked behind him, wind following behind you as you drove your elbow into his nape. No aura flickers. Just a regular civilian. He crumpled on top of the girl, out cold. The brat started flailing harder, completely panicking now.

You actually thought about knocking her out too. Only thing worse than kidnapping a kid is kidnapping a screaming one.

“He’s fine. Should wake up in, I dunno… a few hours? Hard to tell how hard I hit these days.” She sobbed, face-down on the floor. Were you being cruel? Yeah. Did it feel bad? Nope. Somewhere in the back of your skull, this was actually kind of fun, yet it felt slightly off.

You hoisted her over your shoulder. At least she was light. Wouldn’t slow you down too much. “Time to go. Sorry for being too hard on him.”

Wait. Did you just apologize? Why? And why did that make you feel gross? Like remorse. Remorse for feeling remorse over scaring a damn crying kid.

Another fucking headache was building in the back of your skull, like someone jabbing your flesh with a pair of thumbs. The pain slowed you down a bit, but who cares? You had the target. Time to drop her off and get the fuck out. At least the exit wasn’t far.

“Leopold? Are you there?” A voice echoed from another room after exiting the room. Probably the mom. The girl tied up on your shoulder went stiff and quiet. So, she didn’t want mommy knowing? Good. The less noise the fewer the problems.

A few steps down the stairs and more light started pouring in. You were close to the main door, a few windows signaling you that.

“Where are you going, dear? Please, answer me!” The voice yelled behind you, still inside one of the many rooms you walked past by. Not chasing. Just shouting. The sobbing kid on your shoulder, the pounding in your skull, the yelling echoing off the wooden walls around you, it all was starting to grind your nerves.

Maybe some fresh air would clear your head.

You kicked the main door open. Light hit you in the eyes, blinding you for a second. Not full daylight, the sun was slowly fading. It would become evening in… an hour? Two, tops?

Fuck. The headache flared worse. It even expanded towards your eyes. But hey, at least it didn’t smell like rotting garbage out here. More neutral. This was definitely the scent of the noble district. Figures. The girl had to be the daughter of a rich noble asshole.

The streets were dead empty. Then you felt it. A low, rhythmic tremor under your feet. You knew that beat. Cannons. City defenses were on. Grimm? Maybe. You’d never seen a Grimm attack breach the walls. The system usually shredded them before they got close, and even if they went inside, they tended to not go in too deep into the city.

Whatever. Not your problem.

No civilians around. All of them should be scared as shit due to the black out and the defense systems making it sound like a war was in the background. And the Black Sheep mercs? Probably holed up near HQ. Maybe got orders to man the walls and protect the city.

Who gives a shit? That’s upper dog business. Your job was to hand over this bitch.

At least she wasn’t kicking and screaming anymore. Quiet. Easier to drag along. Main base should be close. Just a short walk.

But seriously… you’re just gonna hand her over without saying jack shit to Shelly or that other dumbass? Tempting. Dropping her off yourself would look real good on your rep. Could always say you got tired of waiting. No need to throw your teammates under the bus, at least not too hard.

Oh yeah, there was that thing. Meeting point near the club. Shelly told you to head there after the job. Maybe they were already waiting for you? Heh, you couldn’t help but imagine their faces once they discovered that you were the one that caught the prize.

Shit. Maybe this wasn’t such a smart idea after all. You needed to let someone know. You reached for your scroll.

Fuck. It wasn’t on you. Shit. No power in the city either. Guess the defense system runs on some separate grid. Figures. Maybe Taylor could help contact Shelly? Nah. If she took the underground, no way the signal would punch through, unless she was already up in the surface waiting for you.

Too many damn variables. You hated this part of the job. Thinking. You were better as the hammer. Just hit things. Simple.

> Head to the meeting point with the target. Following the plan is lame, but whatever, your teammates are the brains. If they said this was the move, then fine.
> Fuck the long walks. Not with your headache. Go straight to Black Sheep HQ. They wanted the girl, let them have her. Let Shelly and that other idiot clean up the mess.
> Head to the White Fang base. Maybe Taylor has a way to reach Shelly. Worst case? You've got the prize. No one knows that. You could hold her hostage, buy time. That’d play well later. Like chess pieces or whatever.
> Other (Write in)

>>6284637
>Head to the meeting point with the target. Following the plan is lame, but whatever, your teammates are the brains. If they said this was the move, then fine.

>>6284637
> Head to the meeting point with the target. Following the plan is lame, but whatever, your teammates are the brains. If they said this was the move, then fine.

>>6284637
>Head to the meeting point with the target. Following the plan is lame, but whatever, your teammates are the brains. If they said this was the move, then fine.

>>6284637

Might as well get this damn mission over with. You thought about tossing out some snide remark, the girl on your shoulders being your only audience, but with the pounding in your skull, it’d just sound forced. Better to shut up.

The meeting point wasn’t far. You considered sprinting, but wasting energy for no reason was stupid. Maybe a slow walk down this trembling, quiet street would do your head some good.

---

The rumbling ruined it. Not even close to relaxing. Damn cannons. Being used to their noise backfired as they brought up memories of life on a ship, raids on cargo haulers, the endless drone of drunk idiots stumbling around while yelling obscenities.

Fucking Grimm. Why did they have to hit the city today of all days? Maybe some pills would help. Taylor probably had some stashed in his office. Would he be pissed if you took them without asking first? Probably. That’d make it better.

Oh? And what the hell was that? Some lone idiot sitting on top of the wrecked roof of the nightclub? Oh, that guy, the third wheel on the mission. What was his fucking name again? Whatever. If he was here, Shelly might be lurking nearby too.

The closer you got to the guy, the more wrecked machinery littered the ground. Bits of shattered whips, cracked half-masks, shredded translucent wings. Vespera android parts. How many? Hard to say. At least half a dozen, maybe more. Looks like the bastard knew how to fight.

Would you have traded places with him? Hell yes. Better to be out here breaking things than stuck playing nanny and detective. Still… you got the big prize. And nobody was taking it from you.

He finally noticed you. His breathing was heavy. A dark, almost charred wound marred the cloth on his left shoulder. Guess he didn’t walk away from the fight unscathed. Amateur.

He leapt from the roof, hitting the ground hard enough to kick up a thick dust cloud. His bulk, still shrouded in those oversized robes and hood, closed in on you at a slow pace.

“That the target?” He jerked his chin toward the tied-up girl. For a moment, you thought about dropping her, just to see her face when she realized her precious toys and creations were scrap metal now. But nah. She was yours. And nobody was stealing your prize.
“Of course it is.” Yeah, that’s what happens when some dumbass underestimates you. “Did you really think I’d snatch some random brat and lie about it?”

“That’s exactly what I think you’d do.” He circled you, his eyes on the gagged Vespera. Still didn’t trust you. Stupid bastard.

You felt him grab the girl and rip the gag from her mouth, his voice rumbling from behind you. Your grip on her tightened. If he so much as dared to try taking her from you…
“Are you the… owner, or creator of these androids?” His rough voice cut through the graveyard of busted machines around you.

“Eat shit and die.” Ha. Now that was a nice answer. What a foul mouth. Reminded you of yourself back in the day. Good thing you’ve grown past that.

“Her room’s basically a damn workshop,” you said, half-yawning as you spoke. “Cables all over the place, android masks, prototypes, junk like that. I figured she was just some helper or some dumb shit, but nah. Turns out she’s the real deal.” You turned around, putting Vespera a little farther from the jackass.

“It’s… hard to believe,” he said, the narrow rectangular slit in his hood locking on you. For a second, you caught a glint of his amber eyes. “You’re sure it wasn’t the work of her father, mother… Uncle, maybe?”

“Like they could ever pull off the kind of shit I do,” the girl shot back. “They only care about renown, parties, and how people see them. They’re pathetic.”

“You speak with little fear,” he said to her, still facing you. “Especially for someone your age. Anyone else would be… more distressed in your current situation.”

Vespera smirked. “That’s because I know I’m getting rescued soon.”

Oh? Rescued? Did someone tail you here? Maybe she still had control of her damn androids. Hell, maybe Shelly’s golden heart would start throbbing and she’d demand we hand her over. Where the hell was she, anyway?

“Rescued? By who?” The guy folded his arms. You scanned the area for Shelly. Nothing. Maybe she’d already bailed. Once these two dumbasses shut their mouths, you’d ask the round ball of stupid standing in front of you if he knows where she is.

“By the one holding me, obviously.” That snapped your focus back. “Heard her saying I’m too valuable to share.”

Huh?

“Really? Sora, I knew you were a scoundrel, but stabbing your teammates in the back? That’s low, even for you.” His glare locked on you, the hostility thickening with every second.

“The fuck are you on about? I never said that shit.” You scolded the girl. Sure, you’d thought about it, but being guilty before doing anything? Nah. Fuck that. She was trying to pit you against each other.

“Yeah, of course I’m lying ’cause I’m a kid, right?” Vespera’s grating voice kept going. “Nah. I heard her talking about how the Windcrest name would rise again near Menagerie. Guess her family means more to her than loyalty to you Black Sheep bastards.”

You let her drop from your shoulders. She hit the dirt face-first, still tied, yelping in pain. You nudged her over with your boot, catching a glimpse of her broken nose as she looked up at you, grinning.

“Don’t ever say shit like that again. Fuck the Windcrest name.” Heat surged through you. You really, really wanted to plant a boot in her ribs and stomp her right here and there. You were hanging on by a damn thread.

All three of you stayed quiet for a while. You were fuming, and the girl was loving every second of it. Whatever tiny speck of sympathy you had for her was gone.

“Looks like the little kid got under your skin, Sora.” The guy’s voice came from behind you. Was he fucking laughing? “Is your family really that much of a touchy subject for you?”

You wanted to turn and smash his face in. A nice elbow right between the eyes. Hell, maybe these two deserved to be stomped flat, tossed off a rooftop, strung up in your chains, or worse.

“It really is." Vespera continued talking. "Do you know who her father is? A nice, famous pirate called-”

You drove your boot into the side of the face of the girl. Blood sprayed across the ground, and a couple teeth flew away, bouncing on the ground and pieces of broken metal. Now her lying mouth and stupid nose were both broken and bleeding. She fucking earned that for digging into your past and spitting it out to disgusting pieces of shit like that Black Sheep dog.

“Sora, you need to chill.” A hand touched your shoulder. Instinct took over, you spun and threw a punch. He caught it with his forearm but still staggered back from the force.

“No one fucking touches me. Not you. Not her. Not anyone. Do it again and I’ll chew your throat out.” You were seething. So fucking angry. You didn’t know how, but these two had managed to ruin your goddamn day of victory. You wanted to leap at him, rip his eyes out, shred his face with your nails.

The guy took two steps back, hands buried in his clothes. Probably going for his weapon. No big deal. You could have yours out faster than he could blink.

“Boss said you had a screw loose, but this? Even I think this is pushing it.” His voice was calm. Serene. Why the hell was he so fucking calm when you were a heartbeat away from tearing him apart? “Look, Sora. I think you need to relax.”

You’d heard that line, ‘You need to relax’ so many times it only made your blood boil hotter. You closed the gap between you and him, one step at a time.

He backed up again. “Okay. Look. I’ve got an idea. You take the day off, blow off some steam, do whatever crap you’ve been itching to do. I’ll bring the target to HQ and tell them you bagged her all on your own.”

“Another fucking lie to steal my prize?” They always lied. Always schemed behind your back. That’s why you stayed alone. People were trash. You didn’t hear the voice in your head, but you felt it. Felt what he felt. What you felt. This bastard was trying to sleaze you.

“No. That’s not a lie.” He didn’t back up this time. Was he actually trying to stand his ground? “I just… don’t want to risk the target getting hurt any more than she already is. They wanted her handed over in one piece, and you’re… not exactly in the right state of mind.”

The girl spat blood onto the floor, eyes flicking between you both with a spark of interest. She was enjoying this. Damn, stupid girl.

> He didn’t trust you? Good. You didn’t trust him either. You’d both head to headquarters, hand the Vespera girl over to the bosses, and you’d make damn sure they heard you did it all yourself.
> Not in the right state of mind? The guy could go fuck himself. But maybe that was the perfect excuse. Play along, take a break, let him do the work. If he was telling the truth, you’d still get all the credit. If he was lying? Even better, since that would be the perfect reason to kill him.
> You three were alone. No working cameras nearby. Shelly was nowhere in sight. Nothing stopping you from ending him right here, except the girl. Knock her out, then deal with him. You’d tell the higher ups that he died fighting the androids. Prize goes to you. End of story.
> Other (Write in)

>>6287332
>He didn’t trust you? Good. You didn’t trust him either. You’d both head to headquarters, hand the Vespera girl over to the bosses, and you’d make damn sure they heard you did it all yourself.

>>6287332
>> He didn’t trust you? Good. You didn’t trust him either. You’d both head to headquarters, hand the Vespera girl over to the bosses, and you’d make damn sure they heard you did it all yourself.

>>6287332
>He didn’t trust you? Good. You didn’t trust him either. You’d both head to headquarters, hand the Vespera girl over to the bosses, and you’d make damn sure they heard you did it all yourself.

>>6287332

“Thing is, I don’t give a shit what you think of me.” You spun on your heel as you walked back toward the noble district. Coming here had been a waste of time. “She was my prey. I hunted her. I caught her. And I’m going to hand her over and get my damn prize.”

“…Prize?” he asked, confused, like an idiot. You ignored him and kept moving. This day was ruined. No, this week was ruined. Something about him grated on you, and now you could hear his footsteps behind you. The bastard was following you.

“If you’re planning to stab me in the back, you’d better do it quick. My patience is gone.” You slowed your pace, letting the dagger and chain in your left hand sway, the metal dangling after each step. You shot him a glance over your shoulder.

“I… uh… have no intention of doing that.” He was tense, his gaze fixed on you. Sizing you up. Weapon still stowed, but you knew. You knew he was plotting a cheap shot. You could hear it in his voice. See it in the way he moved. “I was just planning to walk with you to base so everything’s… handled properly.”

Obvious lie. But fine. If he tried it, you’d feel it coming, dodge, and carve him open from skull to gut. Hell, you could do it while still hauling this brat over your shoulder. That’s how good you were.
You didn’t even bother answering him. He didn’t deserve one. At least he was keeping his distance. Was he a long-range type? Fast? Probably tough, but tougher than you? Stronger, maybe? Not likely.

“Are… we going?” His grating voice cut through the air again. At least it was only his. The girl’s sobbing had started to fade. Strange how your head had tuned her out until now.

You spat on the ground, a dark-red glob landing near a bench. Red. Again. Fuck. Now these idiots would think you were hurt. An easy picking. Whatever. Even missing an arm and a leg, you’d still be able to tear them apart.

---

The walk stayed silent. He kept his word. He didn’t try anything. Hell, he even stayed well out of reach. Scared. Good. You liked him scared. The girl was quiet too. Guess she didn’t have much fight in her. Even at her age, you’d have been biting, kicking, screaming if you were in her place.

Her place… Damn. Poor kid. She didn’t deserve this.

“Miss Sora?” A man’s voice snapped you out of it. You were standing outside some big wooden mansion high in the noble district. Guards everywhere. You could feel a few with their sights trained on you.

How the fuck did you get here? Oh… right. The walk. God. The headache. The pain was chewing through your skull with no mercy.

“What is it?” You forced your eyes to focus on the man in front of you. Lumber. That same fuckface who’d been dogging your heels since the day he was recruited. Slow. Dumb. Didn’t know how to fight. And that ugly mug, hell, not even his own mother could love it.

But he was funny. Always running his mouth about climbing to the top. Loyal, too.

“I already asked you. Were you even listening?” He moved closer. Too close for comfort. If it had been anyone else, you’d have sunk your teeth into their neck by now. But him? He was… okay.

“You’re wounded. You should rest. Want me to escort you to the infirmary? I think it’s still running.” Wounded? You? You hadn’t even had a fight yet.

“No. I’m fine.” Each blink made the darkness linger a little bit too much, and between them, your body swayed side to side without your say-so. Not dizzy. Just… tired. And pissed. “Is the boss inside?”

“I don’t think you’re fit to see him.” He came closer, pulling a napkin from who knows where, and moved it toward your face.

A glare was all it took to freeze him mid-step. He started backing up, stumbling. “You don’t look alright.” Were the words that came out of his mouth.

Coward. He’d always been a coward. So why… why did his voice sound so far away? Why did everything feel wrong? Like… you were watching through your own eyes, but the body wasn’t yours anymore?

“Don’t care. Not important. I’m going in. And I’m not asking.” You pushed forward, your steps heavy. A few soldiers shifted, blocking the path to a massive wooden door bristling with more electronics than you could count.

They thought they could stop you? Cute. But not that cute. Not cute enough to stop you from picturing ripping their eyes out, or cramming their rifles down their throats just to watch them choke on them. Pulling the trigger like that… heh, that would be funny.

“She outranks you.” The idiot behind you cut into your thoughts. The gall of him. Still… he was at least saying something useful.

“Kuse, sir. We can’t allow our… ally to present herself to the boss in her current-” One of the soldiers spoke, but you saw it. The twitch in his hand, the little flex toward the trigger. He wanted a fight. Do it. Lift it. Shoot.

“Sora got the target. The target’s high priority. I agree with her. Let us through.” A faint click. Mechanical, close. You glanced back. A small red light blinked to life under the guy’s robes, near his right arm. Hiding his weapons? Coward.

The soldiers traded looks, then stepped aside. You moved past them, though “moved” barely felt right. Walking didn’t register. Each step felt distant, like you were floating through someone else’s body. Didn’t matter. You didn’t need the voice in your head to know what it wanted. It wanted blood. So did you.

Would it be stupid to complain about this guy helping? Yeah. Ridiculous.

You strode into the mansion, glancing back at him as the glow on his arm faded. The main hall sprawled before you. Vacuo style, wide and open, soldiers scattered across the room, all of them watching.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered as he kept walking. What? You didn’t thank him. You wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve it. Hell, the fact you were letting him keep breathing was a prize far too generous.

File: Victoria.png (183 KB, 243x285)

183 KB PNG

You stopped, eyes locking on him. Warm, metallic liquid slid from your nose, splattering against the sandstone mosaics below, each drop a little stain on the neat little floor.

You stared at each other for a few seconds. Was he challenging you? That stare. Steady, unblinking. Yeah. He was picking a fight. Right here. Bold bastard. You felt the corner of your mouth twitch into a grin.

Then he broke eye contact. “…Forget it. Let’s just move.” Not the fight you wanted, but fine. A win’s a win.

---

Thinking while walking felt… wrong. Strange. Peaceful, in a way. Pain gnawed at you, but it was wrapped in this floaty calm, like each step was weightless. Your skin prickled from every gust of cool air slipping down from the industrial fans overhead.

The place reeked of wealth. Not the pompous, useless kind the nobles flaunted, but something leaner. Practical. Minimalist. Modern. Atlas tech wired into Vacuo-style stonework, built to suit the style of the desert.

“Miss Sora. Your old boss is currently busy with other matters.” The voice was rough, female, coming from a side room. You tried to glance at the doorway, maybe catch a nameplate, but the spin in your vision made that impossible.

“Lady Victoria. I’m… sorry if our sudden appearance disturbs you.” Kuse cut in.
Victoria? What the hell was she doing here? Covering for the boss while he was off… doing what exactly?

“I’m already used to quite frightful spectacles in my line of work.” She sat in a chair, eyes fixed on an electronic pad in her hands. This old hag never made you feel safe. You were almost certain she couldn’t fight, but the fact she was here…

A sharp, grating screech of metal on metal rattled through the ventilation shaft. The hair on your neck bristled. That thing. That monster. The abomination who carved his way to the top through corpses.

The noise stopped. Six red eyes lit up in the darkness, all locked on you. Bayfor. Always the same intimidation games. More monster than man. He knew you were staring back. Part of you wanted to bolt. The rest wanted to rip those eyes out of his skull.

“I’m assuming the girl you’re carrying is the target? Miss Sora?” Victoria’s gaze flicked up at you for a moment.

“Affirmative.” Kuse answered before you could speak. Good. With that predator watching your every move, you couldn’t waste a shred of focus on anything else. Survival came first.

“Good job, the both of you.” Her gaze drifted back to the pad resting on her crossed legs. “Bayfor, love, take the girl and put her in the cells. Alive, this time. And don’t harm her.”

The ventilation shaft groaned open. Metal legs, thin, spidery, crept out first, clinging to the edges. Then came Bayfor’s mask, all steel and bionics, a mockery of a spider’s face with three pairs of cold, red eyes.

But his body… it wasn’t the same as before. Slimmer now. Still mechanical, but with a scaled sheen, like the hide of a human-sized serpent. How the hell did a human torso fit inside that thing? Didn’t matter. It was best to not ask.

He slithered down the wall toward you, then twisted effortlessly onto the ceiling, his legs clacking against metal as he moved. Gravity didn’t seem to apply to him. It made your skin crawl with disgust and fear.

> As much as you hated it… maybe handing over the girl was the smart move. You were strong, but not strong enough to take on Kuse and Bayfor at once. Staying alive came first. Always.
> Your gut screamed it was a bad idea to give her up. Shelly’s influence? Maybe. Or maybe you still had some guts left. Stall. Show strength. Weakness was the fastest way to get crushed in this kind of place.
> Other (Write in)

>>6290640
>As much as you hated it… maybe handing over the girl was the smart move. You were strong, but not strong enough to take on Kuse and Bayfor at once. Staying alive came first. Always.

>>6290640
>> Your gut screamed it was a bad idea to give her up. Shelly’s influence? Maybe. Or maybe you still had some guts left. Stall. Show strength. Weakness was the fastest way to get crushed in this kind of place.

>>6290640
> Your gut screamed it was a bad idea to give her up. Shelly’s influence? Maybe. Or maybe you still had some guts left. Stall. Show strength. Weakness was the fastest way to get crushed in this kind of place.

>>6290640
> Your gut screamed it was a bad idea to give her up. Shelly’s influence? Maybe. Or maybe you still had some guts left. Stall. Show strength. Weakness was the fastest way to get crushed in this kind of place.

>>6290640

Your mind wasn’t yours anymore. It kept whispering things like “Hand the girl over, end the mission.” She was the target. You’d caught her with barely any effort. Now she dangled over your shoulders, her nose dripping blood a with a few teeth missing, limp and useless. No fight left in her.

So why the hell were you stepping back? Instinct? Fear? Why did every bone in you scream to run? Were you… trying to save her?

“…Sora?” Kuse’s voice came from behind, noticing the distance you were putting between them. Bayfor tilted his skull, spider-eyes blinking out of sync, studying you. You opened your mouth, but only ragged air scraped out. Talking hurt. Why? You weren’t even wounded.

“I was wondering when you’d decide to bite your own leash.” Victoria’s voice cut through the silence, sharper than the mechanical clicking that crawled from Bayfor’s warped, half-metal body. “I told the others. Letting you linger with that girl was a bad omen. But no one listened.”

That girl? Shelly? You forced your head up, pain blooming in your chest, spreading in a burning sensation down your arms. Your knees wobbled, and for a second you thought you’d drop the brat right onto the floor.

“You look confused. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even still on your feet.” Victoria’s voice hit you heavily. It was sharp and commanding, as if it was meant for you alone. Your vision swam, the edges blurring heavier than before. “So, let me explain just a little so you’re not completely in the dark. Yes. I mean this girl.” She lifted her gaze at last, idly spinning the datapad she’d been holding the whole time.

The screen flickered with a staticky night-vision feed. A girl stumbled through dark tunnels. Straight brown hair. Eyes closed. A half-kimono strapped with tactical pouches, a White Fang mask hanging loose at her chest, sabers sheathed at her hips. Her hand clutched her head as if she had a headache.

Yes. Yes. That was her.

“You can still recognize her. Interesting.” Your heart beat louder. Too loud. Then the pain dropped you to one knee. It was like something sliced you up from inside. An attack? Were you under attack? Your hand moved to your chest. Nothing. Just warm blood, a single line trailing down from your nose.

“What the hell is this?” Kuse’s voice cut in behind you, sharper now, but it reached you as if from underwater, muffled, distant.

“Don’t concern yourself with this situation, boy. You’re dismissed.” Victoria waved her hand lazily, eyes never leaving the datapad as her chair turned, her back now facing you. “Or shall I remind you what happens when you disobey me?”

Kuse stayed silent for a few seconds. “My apologies, miss. And… Sora.” You tried to turn, but your body was stiff, every movement accompanied with pain. “I’m sorry.” he muttered at last. His footsteps were faint as he left the room, slowing at the threshold, almost second-guessing himself.

“Can I kill her now?” Bayfor’s metallic rasp cut through the haze, snapping your senses awake. Kill her? Was he talking about you? What the fuck were you doing kneeling there? You were in danger. Move. The pain didn’t matter. Better to feel pain than feel nothing and dying. You forced yourself up, shaky, breath ragged. The voices no longer echoed like they were underwater, but your vision swam in and out of focus constantly.

“She may still be useful, even if her loyalty is faulty.” Victoria’s voice pulled your gaze. Her chair was all you could make out. Perfect situation for a sneak attack. But your body wouldn’t obey. Even your voice was gone, only barely able to cough weakly.

She glanced back at you, eyes sharp with disdain. Disgust was the emotion you managed to recognize.

“Bothersome Faunus. Always skewing my results.” Her fingers tapped the datapad, a horn symbol glowing faintly. “Increase intensity to level four.”

You staggered backward. The open door waited behind you. For a heartbeat you thought of running, then a blinding flash erupted. Static roared in your skull. Your Aura flared, brilliant yellow, only to sputter, fading in uneven pulses. Each beat of your heart was sharp and painful. Blood dripped hot and steady from your nose and eyes.

But you’d lived with worse. You always had.

Your hand closed around the dagger, chains rattling as they slid down your arm. You were ready to fight. As you raised your head, you caught Bayfor’s mask vibrating, a raw metallic groan tearing from him. He was in pain too, stunned, if only for a second.

“I’m not sure if this unexpected result is due to your physiology or just a growing tolerance.” Victoria rose from her chair, gliding past the desk. “Bayfor, dear, are you holding up well?”

“More… MORE!” Sparks burst from his spidery metal limbs. Your body lurched toward him. No, not your body. Your weapon. Your chains. Even the buttons on your coat tugged toward him. Magnetism. You staggered back, throat tight, heat boiling in your skull, clutching the girl’s limp body on your shoulder.

The feeling clawed at you. Familiar. You’d felt this once before with Shelly. No, not her, with that machine you tore apart together outside the city when you met each other. This was worse, though. Much worse. Another one of those horrible machines? Where was it? You needed to rip it apart, smash it, destroy it before it shredded your head.

What if Shelly was caught in this, too? What if she was suffering the same burn behind her eyes, the same tearing? If Victoria had her on camera, then she was somewhere in the facility. Underground, maybe. Trapped.

You had to find her. Reuniting with Shelly was the only thing that made sense. Staying here meant your brain would eventually get fried.

> Escape. Run. The hall was open, and you knew this place well enough. Ride the adrenaline, find Shelly, drag the girl on your shoulder if you had to. Just move.
> Victoria’s killing you. Fuck the hostage. The girl didn’t matter. The old hag needed to bleed. Kill her, and damn the Black Sheep for these twisted experiments. They’d all pay.
> Bayfor’s the main threat. Right now, he was the most dangerous thing alive in this room. He felt the Aura-ripping waves too, his color being a deep green. Take him out, and Victoria would be defenseless. You just needed a lucky hit.
> Other (Write in)

>>6294658
>Bayfor’s the main threat. Right now, he was the most dangerous thing alive in this room. He felt the Aura-ripping waves too, his color being a deep green. Take him out, and Victoria would be defenseless. You just needed a lucky hit.

>>6294658
> Bayfor’s the main threat. Right now, he was the most dangerous thing alive in this room. He felt the Aura-ripping waves too, his color being a deep green. Take him out, and Victoria would be defenseless. You just needed a lucky hit.

>>6294658
>> Bayfor’s the main threat. Right now, he was the most dangerous thing alive in this room. He felt the Aura-ripping waves too, his color being a deep green. Take him out, and Victoria would be defenseless. You just needed a lucky hit.

Dice roll time. Don't worry about failure. What's the worst thing that could happen?

Best of three, 3d10, DC 23, Crit 27

Rolled 2, 8, 2 = 12 (3d10)

>>6296305

Rolled 6, 9, 10 = 25 (3d10)

>>6296305

Rolled 10, 10, 7 = 27 (3d10)

>>6296305

>>6294656

The green Aura rippling off Bayfor’s armor was… wrong. It looked sick. Like waves dancing through swampy waters. Whatever he was feeling, he was reveling in it. How could he enjoy something that made you feel so… awful?

No, Sora. Focus. You could take him down. One hand was all you needed. Just find the weak spot in his Aura, force your strike through the armor, push until you managed to wound him in the flesh.

You tried to read him, to find a rhythm in the chaos of that Aura, but there was nothing. No patterns. No tells. Who the hell could ever predict something like that?

Fuck it. Time was slipping. Better to gamble, trust the blood in your veins and hope luck was on your side.

You snapped your chain forward, dagger flashing out. Didn’t matter where, anywhere, so long as it dodged that flickering slime of aura. If it hit his armor, then maybe luck would shove it inside.

The dagger struck.

And bounced. His Aura swallowed the blow, twisting your strike aside like it was nothing. All momentum gone. Bayfor turned, his endlessly blinking eyes locking on you.

With a savage swipe, you yanked the chain, the dagger whipping after it, tracing the serpentine motion of your arm. This time far faster.

The edge of your dagger touched his face. Steel ripped across him, carving a gash, sparks spitting out as his red eyes flickered. Whatever fancy tech he had wired into that skull was trashed now. Could he even fucking see you right now?

But you weren’t done. Another swing, now in the opposite direction. The chain fought you, its momentum tearing at your arm, muscles screaming with the strain. Pain shot through your shoulder. Shit.

And then it hit. Like the crack of a whip, the dagger blurred, slamming against his head as a deafening metallic sound surrounded the room.

Then came the wet sound of something touching the floor. The blade punched through his head, streaks of red falling from his forehead into a slowly forming pool of blood on the floor. So, he was human after all. Machines don’t bleed like that.

You ripped the chain back, every pull straining your shoulder close to tearing. Bayfor’s body collapsed at your feet after being pulled, limp, leaking. You planted your boot on him, wrenching the dagger free. His head was a mess of blood, circuits, and broken cables surrounding a deep, pulsating wound.

Your eyes lifted to Victoria. Each breath was agony. You tried to say something, but language was still something alien for you to speak. A smirk tore across your face anyway. Let that bitch see. Whatever monster she cherished, he was nothing. Weak. Pathetic. Trash. Compared to you.

She stared at you with that same deadpan face, like always. Maybe a twitch of her brow. Surprise, maybe? That’s it? No panic? No fear? You just killed her fucking monster.

“I wonder…” Her voice dragged slow, like she was savoring it, trying to hide the curl of a smile. A bad sign. “…if these electro-waves are enhancing your combat prowess as well? Maybe I thought too little of you. My apologies.” She smiled. Creepy. The kind of grin only a rotten old bag of bones could pull off.

Then, movement. A twitch under the armor. Bayfor. How the fuck was he alive? Didn’t you just skull-fuck the bastard clean through with that strike?

You followed your instincts, jumping backwards outside the room.

Kuse was further down the hallway, rushing in, his robes whipping around him. From beneath the fabric, the tip of a spear slid out, glowing that same orangey-red light near his shoulder. He was ready for a fight. Shit.

And right where you’d been standing, a piercing impact. One of Bayfor’s mechanical legs rammed into the ground, splitting concrete like it was made of nothing, chunks spraying out to the sides. His head jerked up in spasms, a broken marionette dripping blood. The spider-legs snapped and thrusted his snake-like body, dragging him forward, wheezing for air but still moving.

So yeah. He lived through what was a lethal blow. And now you were in a goddamn pincer maneuver. Your head was pounding like it wanted to be split open, one arm locked down with this useless… girl.

Yep. This was the shittiest week of your life.

---

---

Explosions. Footsteps pounding. Screams. And now, walls collapsing, blades clashing against each other. You could hear it all. Funny, really. Turns out closing your eyes long enough sharpened your already-heightened hearing to something almost unnatural.

Maybe the Black Sheep was under attack? Even better. Perfect distraction. What was that woman’s name? Doctor? No, scientist fit her better. Cerise. Cerise Watts. She was the biggest lead you had. Time to track her down and seek out answers. What exactly had she done to your head back at Haven Academy? And who was she, really?

If only these tunnels weren’t so damn long. You’d been walking for hours, and even your feet had begun to ache. At least your aura dulled the pain. Speaking of… that buzzing again. You’d been hearing it for a while now, like static. No matter how you turned, you couldn’t pin down the source. It didn’t fade, only growing louder. Maybe it was a side effect of keeping one sense shut off. Electricity in the walls? No, impossible. Power was out. It had to be something else.

Then, another explosion, stronger this time. Not a grenade. No… more like a concrete wall shattering. And there, metal striking metal. A sword fight. The rhythm of it felt familiar. Still, no question about it. A battle was raging somewhere inside this place.

Maybe subtlety was best left for another day. Maybe it was time to finally reveal yourself as an enemy to this criminal syndicate. But… that was a dangerous gamble. No cameras were watching, they still thought of you as an ally, and your infiltration was going smoothly. You were undetected so far.

Then came the noises. Again. That commotion. loud, chaotic. What was happening? A detour might not be such a bad idea, though it would mean coming up with an excuse if a Black Sheep agent stopped you and questioned you about why you were here.

> Whatever those sounds were, they might offer some clues. Search for nearby tunnels, tapping the walls as you’d been doing for the past hour to echolocate the best route. It was a hunch, but maybe the smartest move was to head towards the source.
> That fight, whatever it was, was the perfect distraction. Move faster through the tunnels. Find the scientist, get the answers, and get out. The blackout was your best ally, and you’d be a fool not to use it.
> These halls were lined with research rooms, but you hadn’t had any luck so far. Maybe you were searching in the wrong place. Perhaps the answers were deeper, farther down into the mountain’s bowels.
> Other (Write in)

>>6298323
>That fight, whatever it was, was the perfect distraction. Move faster through the tunnels. Find the scientist, get the answers, and get out. The blackout was your best ally, and you’d be a fool not to use it.

>>6298323
>That fight, whatever it was, was the perfect distraction. Move faster through the tunnels. Find the scientist, get the answers, and get out. The blackout was your best ally, and you’d be a fool not to use it.

>>6298323
>> That fight, whatever it was, was the perfect distraction. Move faster through the tunnels. Find the scientist, get the answers, and get out. The blackout was your best ally, and you’d be a fool not to use it.
Gotta get out first

>>6298323

Maybe those new sounds of fighting weren’t a good omen. Chances were your time spying down here had just been cut short. For how much? No idea. All the more reason to move faster.

Down here in the dark, eyes shut, your hearing became your compass. Might as well put it to the test.

---

You weren’t walking anymore. Running was the more accurate word. Walls barely mattered. A few cables and pipes nearly tripped you up from time to time, but the effort still felt like training. It reminded you of your last sparring match with Sora. Dodging her strikes with your eyes closed, relying only on sound, the dark surrounding you. This was a very similar feeling to that day.

But the experiment had to end. You forced yourself to ease your pace. The sound of your own footsteps was drowning out something far more important. Voices, or something close. Hushed sounds of people moving, whispering low, barely audible.

And then the thought struck. How would you even get out of these tunnels? You’d taken so many turns. Left, right, left again. You’d long lost track of the way back.

Still, none of that mattered. Finding this scientist mattered more. It was the reason you’d stayed with the White Fang in the first place.

A deep buzzing sound was heard in the distance. You opened your eyes for a brief moment. At the far end of a corridor, a faint red light blinked close to a left turn. As you moved closer, you saw the entire hall bathed in dim, red emergency lighting, its glow so weak you could hardly make out the doors set beneath each lamp.

Your hearing would serve you better.

You passed each door in turn. From within came only the low hum of machinery. No voices, no movement, nothing but motors at work. The only sounds of life drifted from the far end of the hall, which meant the target was probably there.

As you advanced, the mechanical hum deepened, joined by the faint rush of water running through pipes. This last room was different. Beneath the drone of electronics were hushed tones. Breathing, the quiet stutter of keystrokes, whispers.

Was there really a choice here? Why hesitate? The answer was likely right behind this door.

You pressed your hand against the metal to slide it open, only to feel resistance. Locked. And then, the sharp clicks of guns being readied. Manual clicks, not automated. Human hands. How many? Four? Five? Six at most. No fewer than that.

But how? You’d been silent, every step as quiet as humanly possible. Your hearing confirmed you as much. Cameras, then. Hidden. Most likely. The dim red lights made spotting them impossible.

The sounds told you more. Every weapon was the same make. No sniper rifle, no oversized Huntsman toy like a scythe-cannon or a sword-bazooka hybrid. Just standard guns. Regular guards, then. Hardly a match for a Huntsman. So why put them here?

You stepped back a few paces, drawing both sabers and locking them together into a bow. Dropping low, you aimed as a faint light-green arrow of light slowly started to form itself in the middle of the darkness. You overcharged it until it pulsed with energy. After a few seconds, you let it fly.

The arrow slammed into the door’s center, denting the steel before winking out in a scatter of fading light. How many arrows would it take to break down this door? Three? Four? Maybe four. You’d put money on four.

“Take position! Target is trying to force its way inside!” a man shouted from within. Their earlier ambush had been… cute. Amateurish, but cute.

You loosed another arrow. The tip slammed into the steel, denting it deep this time, though still no breach. Solid. Quite well made. Nice.

“Be ready! Be ready!” Another voice cried out, followed by a wave of terrified screams. Plenty of people in there. Scientists or civilians, most likely.

“Lay down your weapons, and I promise I won’t hurt you!” you called back. You meant it, but for a strange reason it rarely worked most of the time. At least you could say you tried.

Then silence. Tense, waiting silence. The glow of your charged arrow lit the hall, humming with power. You could destroy the door in an instant and carve through everyone inside. Victory was a certainty. But casualties? That was the problem. A stray bullet, and a scientist could die. What if Cerise was inside? What if she took the hit? What if she wasn’t even there? Would you really be willing to take your first human life in exchange for nothing?

If only you could stop thinking so damn much. That’s the curse of having a conscience.

> Let the arrow fly. Break the door, fight them head-on. You’d almost certainly win, but there was no promise the scientists, or Cerise, would come out unharmed. And the thought of killing soldiers was… extremely unpleasant.
> Try reasoning with them. Demand they release Cerise Watts. Maybe she wasn’t even there, and you were wasting your time. Then they’d point out her position, maybe? Surely they knew facing a Huntress was suicide.
> Push diplomacy harder. Tell them to surrender or else. Make it clear you could cut them apart with ease, shoot arrows through their legs, slash through their defenses like it was nothing. Does this count as intimidation? Darn. It felt so… wrong.
> Other (Write in)

>>6301202
>Try reasoning with them. Demand they release Cerise Watts. Maybe she wasn’t even there, and you were wasting your time. Then they’d point out her position, maybe? Surely they knew facing a Huntress was suicide.

>>6301202
>> Push diplomacy harder. Tell them to surrender or else. Make it clear you could cut them apart with ease, shoot arrows through their legs, slash through their defenses like it was nothing. Does this count as intimidation? Darn. It felt so… wrong.

>>6301202
>> Try reasoning with them. Demand they release Cerise Watts. Maybe she wasn’t even there, and you were wasting your time. Then they’d point out her position, maybe? Surely they knew facing a Huntress was suicide.

>>6301202
> Try reasoning with them. Demand they release Cerise Watts. Maybe she wasn’t even there, and you were wasting your time. Then they’d point out her position, maybe? Surely they knew facing a Huntress was suicide.

>>6301202

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The words left your mouth with a very tight measure on each intonation. Every sentence mattered. Say the wrong thing and the hope of a peaceful solution would crumble.

Silence. No reply. They didn’t trust you yet. Fair enough.

“I’m only here for one specific person.” What would calm them? What would make them give you what you needed? “I don’t care about anyone else. Please don’t make me resort to force. I will, if I must. But that’s not what I want.”

The quiet pressed in. You strained your ears and caught the sound of breathing beyond the door. It was an uneven sound, but it got calmer each passing second.

“How can we trust you?” A soldier answered.

So they were willing to talk. Strange. Most trained soldiers would’ve fought to the death. Discipline, duty, the idea of doing the right thing. But these weren’t soldiers. They were thugs, mercenaries, maybe bandits with a bit of training. That was how this city worked. And knowing that gave you an edge.

“I can’t offer you proof. Only my word.” They were victims too. Victims of the city’s criminal hierarchy, crushed under it for who knows how many years. Any kindness or honesty they once had was likely beaten out of them, burned down by endless scrambles for survival under sadistic masterminds.

But you still held onto hope. If you let go of that, what would be the point of even trying to reason with them? Your chest felt… warmer. Better.

“Not good enough,” one soldier grunted. In the silence, it was easy to tell their weapons were trained on the door as well. A strange, suffocating standstill. Your fingertips grew warm. Maybe another arrow could loosen the door… No. That would be the last resort.
“I’m sorry if that’s not enough, but I must insist.” You let the silence stretch. It pressed in on you until you could hear your own heartbeat. Staying in the dark this long had sharpened your senses in unsettling ways. Whatever pressure you were feeling, they were feeling it too.

“You think she’s gonna kill us?” A whisper broke through. Quiet, trembling. Civilian, most likely. If it was a soldier, then poor bastard had picked the wrong career.

“No. I don’t think so. I’ve heard from my niece. A Huntress from the White Fang with a bow’s been helping the city for the past week. Giving food and clothes and all that.”

Past week? It was closer to a month, but you wouldn’t correct him. Supplies, medicine, whatever scraps of help you could push through the sewers. And… also drugs. Not exactly your highest point. A tinge of sharp guilt touched your chest.

“Quiet, you two!” A woman’s voice snapped, so harsh it could’ve passed for a man’s. Infighting? No, this wasn’t what you had planned.

“It’s true! She’s telling the truth! If we cooperate with her then maybe-” A sharp, mechanical click cut the plea short. A rifle was being raised.

“I said quiet! No one moves until we tell you to move!”

Shit. Things were developing fast, and not exactly in the right direction. If you stayed silent, the tension would snap into gunfire. But if you spoke, maybe, just maybe, you could calm the situation down before everything exploded.

---

>DICE ROLL TIME

Best of three, 3d10, DC 18, Crit 22 (Lowered DC due to being somewhat known as a local heroine).

Rolled 6, 10, 5 = 21 (3d10)

>>6303847

Rolled 7, 6, 8 = 21 (3d10)

>>6303847

Rolled 10, 10, 8 = 28 (3d10)

>>6303847

>>6303847

Might as well step in before things got worse.

“I’m telling the truth. If you don’t believe me-”

You froze. That sound. Metal clicks, multiple of them. Guns being readied.

“Don’t you dare shoot!” You called out, thankful that you’d caught the sound in time. The standstill held, but the tension in the air grew even more uncomfortable.

“And why should we believe you?!” a voice shouted from behind the door. Angry. Panicked.

“Who are you looking for?!” Another voice, younger, male, called out.

“Cerise. Cerise Watts. Tell me where she is, and I’ll leave you alone.” No lies. No half-truths. The best way to deal with this is by being honest, but firm.

“Figures.” The rough female voice muttered something under her breath. “She’s not here. Now leave.”

Her tone was flat, direct, impossible to read. Lie or truth? Was it worth it to gamble on her intentions? A part of you, the part that wanted this to end without blood, relaxed. If she wasn’t here, there was no reason to fight.

Moments later, you heard several gasps from inside the room. Something had startled them.

“You. Stand down.” One of the male soldiers barked at… someone.

“Do you promise you won’t hurt me or my colleagues?” A woman’s voice replied, gentle, formal, but with a faint tremor she couldn’t quite hide. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Cherry, what are you doing?!” Someone hissed at her, but the whisper died out after a few seconds. Silence followed. Your cue to talk.

“I do. I’m not here for a fight. I just want answers.” Honesty was still the most persuasive card you could play.

“We have orders to-” The gruff female soldier started, but she fell silent as the gentle voice cut in again.

“The girl outside is the Huntress who took down the monsters that ravaged this city a few weeks ago, the same things that tore through our ranks. All on her own. You’ve read the reports, haven’t you?” That wasn’t exactly true. Sora had been there, and at best it was a draw. But you weren’t about to stop the woman from talking you up.

“Of course we did, but-”

“Listen.” the gentle voice overrode them again, soft but commanding enough to quiet the room. “No offense, but you wouldn’t stand a chance against her if you tried. If she isn’t looking for blood, our best chance of surviving this is to trust her.”

Soft footsteps approached. She was coming closer. You glanced at the battered door. Would it even open with the dent you’d left in it?

Another click, the sound of a smaller gun this time. “If we let you, or anyone else, out, the higher-ups will have our heads.” Your hands tensed. Why couldn’t they just cooperate?

“If you kill me, they’ll have your heads too. And the girl outside?” The woman let her words hang for a bit. “She might not take it well. Don’t mistake her gentle words for weakness. You know what she’s capable of.”

The female scientist, likely Cerise, was trying hard to keep the fear out of her voice. “So, what will it be? Certain death now, or just… the possibility of death later?”

An interesting argument. Flawed, sure, but at least she was trying to keep this from turning bloody.

The footsteps stopped. Silence settled in again. Then, the soft voice spoke again. “Can you… help me open the door? It’s stuck.”

Right. Your earlier arrows had bent the metal so badly that it was a miracle the door still worked at all. “Sure. Please stand aside.”

You charged another arrow, aiming carefully at the door. A strange calm washed over you. Things were looking up. Not a single death so far. A peaceful resolution. Releasing the arrow felt… good, knowing no one had to die.

---

You kept hold of the woman’s arm as you led her forward. She stumbled often, her steps slow in the darkness. Fair enough. She didn’t want to trip over a cable or pipe and faceplant.

And she wasn’t resisting, which helped. The soldiers had stayed quiet as you left, their silence being their only answer. They were relieved you hadn’t turned this into a fight, even if they didn’t say it out-loud. The scientists thought the same, most likely. No matter how tough they acted, deep down nobody really liked violence.

She was still afraid. You could feel it in her arms. Her hands trembled against yours, offering no resistance. It was hard to make out her features in the dim light. The only detail you could see was the faint red hue of her hair and the long, white coat covering her chest and arms

What could you even say to her? What could you ask? There were so many questions, but maybe they could wait until you were somewhere safer. Was she even your… hostage? The thought made your stomach turn. There wasn’t an easy answer here.

“I thought you were going to be… more of a brute. I’m relieved I was wrong.” She broke the silence first. Small talk. Good. A slow way to get her to open up. Wait, brute?

“What makes you say that?” Curiosity got the better of you. Maybe you needed to take control of the conversation, push past the hesitation. Maybe it was time to be direct, to finally ask her about your condition. What she was doing in Haven Academy back then, as a nurse, a doctor, whatever she was. Would she even remember? It had been so long.

But she didn’t answer. Her nerves showed in her silence. And yours were starting to show some, too. Focus, Shelly. Focus.

She was the reason you came here in the first place. The reason for all of this, the strange thoughts, the erratic behavior, your red eyes. You’d risked your life to reach her. And now, she was right here, and you could finally ask her the truth. So why were you hesitating this much?

> Be direct, but gentle. Finesse was never your strong suit, but it didn’t have to be. Just be yourself. Tell her what’s happening to you, ask her what she knows about your condition.
> Remind her what she did to you. The woman was scared, which could be good. Sora would be proud. She hurt you, changed you, altered your life in ways she never should have. Let her know you don’t like that. Maybe fear would make her talk.
> Take the patient approach. Trusting her blindly was dangerous. Taylor’s style was better. Befriend her, get her to believe you both share the same goals. If she’s hiding something, this is how you’d catch her.
> Other (Write in)

>>6305820
>Remind her what she did to you. The woman was scared, which could be good. Sora would be proud. She hurt you, changed you, altered your life in ways she never should have. Let her know you don’t like that. Maybe fear would make her talk.

>>6305820
> Be direct, but gentle. Finesse was never your strong suit, but it didn’t have to be. Just be yourself. Tell her what’s happening to you, ask her what she knows about your condition.

>>6305820
>Be direct, but gentle. Finesse was never your strong suit, but it didn’t have to be. Just be yourself. Tell her what’s happening to you, ask her what she knows about your condition.

>>6305820
> Be direct, but gentle. Finesse was never your strong suit, but it didn’t have to be. Just be yourself. Tell her what’s happening to you, ask her what she knows about your condition.

So I was banned because something about using a VPN or something (I don't know jack about technology) but the 4chan team appealed the ban in less than 10 minutes. Kudos to them!

>Here's the update:

>>6305820

>New Trait Unlocked. Thank you, Crit!
>Straight to the Point: Most people coat their words with sugar or sharpen them into dangerous daggers. You don’t bother with either. You have no patience for games, no taste for shenanigans. While this bluntness doesn’t really make you more persuasive, it does make others easier to read. The way they flinch, stall, or shift under the weight of your directness tends to lay their real intentions bare.

“Let me lay it all out. I’m not in the mood to walk in circles.”You felt her arm stiffen. She tried to look calm, controlled, but you could feel right through it. Her mask was a farce, a well-crafted one, but still a fake. “I was a student at Haven Academy years ago. I know you worked there as a nurse, doctor, whatever. I dug around, put the pieces together, and what I’ve got points to you. The condition I have? It’s tied to you.”

Cerise’s breathing hitched. Short, shallow breaths. She was stressing out, breathing short, ragged breaths, even if she didn’t realize you could hear it.

“What are you-” You cut her off before she could build an excuse.

“Red eyes. Sometimes glowing. Violent expressions I can’t control. People get uncomfortable just by being near me, even when I’m standing still. Does that mean anything to you?” You turned down a narrow hallway. The distant clash of battle faded until all you could hear was the scientist’s breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in the dark.

Cerise stayed quiet. Her breathing was still uneven, though no longer showing the frantic gasps from before.

“Sorry if this sounds like an accusation.” You said, keeping your grip on her arm firm, “But I know you had a hand in this. Your name is all over the files I dug up. I know about your past in Atlas. I’m not here for revenge. I just want answers. Maybe even a cure for this disease.”

Cerise’s steps slowed until she came to a full stop in the darkness. You felt her balance shift slightly, trying to slip her arm free, but you tightened your hold in response.

“Don’t.” you murmured. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You caught the faint sound of her swallowing. “…I’m sorry.” At least she said it. Whether it was sincere or not, you couldn’t tell, but it was something.

“Thank you. But I still need to kno-” Cerise cut you off, her voice cracking.

“No. You don’t understand.” Her breathing picked up again, shifting back towards panic. “I’m really sorry. I had no choice.”

You kept your tone leveled. “I know someone put you up to it. Back at the Huntsman school. So please, tell me what you know.” That was a lie, but a necessary one. You had no idea if she did this on her own or if she was following orders. The way she reacted would tell you give you more clues.

Her reply came quickly, steadier now, her voice shifting into something almost clinical. “It isn’t a disease. It isn’t a pathogen, or a bacteria, or a parasite. Nothing like that. I’m sorry, but what you have… it isn't something that can be 'cured'.”

Her tone grew more certain with every word. Of course. Scientists always seemed to find a strange comfort when explaining the horrible truths they knew.

It took everything in you not to break down after hearing those words. You’d suspected this might be the case for a long time, but to have it spoken aloud? You shoved those thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. “Explain it to me. What is it that I have?”

She had your full attention. You could barely hear the quick flutter of her heartbeat over the pounding of your own.

Silence.

Your head felt light, almost hollow, and heat crept up your face despite the chill crawling at the tip of your fingers.

“Explain it to me.” This time your voice was the one cracked. Why couldn’t she just answer? Sora would’ve already smashed her face into the floor for stalling this long.

“I’m not sure.” she finally said, her voice careful. “But it is most likely related to our current work with the Rubedo Project.”

Rubedo Project. The name meant nothing to you. You stayed silent, waiting, inviting her to continue.

“I don’t have at hand the details of what happened in Haven Academy.” A lie. Or at least a carefully chosen half-truth. If what she was doing now was connected to what happened back then, she knew more than she was letting on. Still, you let her talk. “But as to what we are doing right now, we are…” she faltered, biting her lip. “…it’s difficult to explain to someone not well-versed in the scientific field.”

“Try me.” Your tone was sharp now, your patience running thin. You squeezed her hand just enough to remind her she wasn’t going anywhere. “And stop buying time. I’m being very careful with you right now, so don’t make me do something we’ll both regret later.”

Her fingers went stiff at your words. Good. She understood now. This conversation was going to end on your terms, not hers.

“F-fine. Apologies. Where should I even start…” She hesitated again, and you felt the muscles in her arm tighten beneath your grip. “Y-you know how Dust interacts with a Huntsman’s Aura? How it can enhance weapons… even Semblances?”

“Yes. I’m aware.” A single memory came afloat. How you’d used Gravity Dust with your Semblance against that black-liquid monster. How your power had surged, feeling almost uncontrollable, giving you almost of a miracle to survive that fight.

“We’ve been experimenting with that. Distilling Dusts, using them as both a catalyst and a fuel source… to generate a psycho-magnetic wave that can affect the neurochemical state of certain individuals.”

Psycho-magnetic wave. Neurochemical state. It was a fancy way of saying that it messed with people’s heads.

“At first, our results were neither tangible nor useful.” She continued talking. “The electromagnetic pulses of normal Dust types didn’t alter synaptic activity at all. So…” She swallowed hard. “We had to experiment with other kinds of Dust.”

“What kinds?” You didn’t like where this was headed.

“Artificial Dust. Dust with… biomolecular residues.” Residues?

“Residues of what?”

“I’ll let you figure that one out on your-” You yanked her closer, hard enough that her breath hitched. Her face was inches from yours now, illuminated by the faint red glow coming from your eyes.

“No. You’re telling me. Right now. Residues of what?”

“G-Grimm residue.” she finally stammered.

Huh?

“Grimm biomass is nearly impossible to study. It’s unstable, ephemeral. That’s why we know so little about them. We can’t obtain blood samples, no fur, no nothing. The moment a Grimm feels captured, it disintegrates into thin air. But…”

Your grip tightened.

“…Dust works as a stabilizing catalyst. With the right process, we can fuse Grimm biomass with Dust, creating a new, semi-stable compound. It doesn’t vanish anymore. It’s a breakthrough. A discovery that could change everything. It could finally let us understand what we’re fighting aga-” She was going to start rambling. You knew it.

“Back on topic. What did you do to me?” You felt her arm twitch as she tried to pull it free, a small yelp escaping her lips. A little more pressure from your grip, and you knew her bone would snap.

“S-sorry. I… was tasked, along with several other experts, to test this new Dust variant. At first, it was completely unusable. Weapons either broke or refused to channel it, and it interfered with Huntsmen’s Auras, canceling each other out. We considered it a failure. But… we kept going. We kept experimenting. We knew Dust could be converted directly into energy, so we tried the same with this new substance.”

“And?” Somewhere far away, an alarm began to howl, faint and distorted by distance. The ventilation shafts above you were slowly starting to spin again.

“…and we discovered that this energy was unstable. Worse than useless, it behaved erratically, almost as if it were… malicious. Like it was playing with us, failing all tests on purpose. All our tests failed except one. We found that this Grimm-infused Dust had a psychological effect on anyone exposed to it.”

“In what way?”

“Increased impulsivity. Mood swings. Heightened aggression. Lowered inhibitions. Psychomotor agitation, and in the most extreme cases, feral behavior.” Each word she spoke made your stomach twist even tighter. These symptoms sounded all too familiar to you.

“These effects usually faded with time.” She added, her voice trembling in pain.

Your grip loosened slightly, just enough for her to relax a tiny bit.

“…Thank you. The individuals we tested almost never developed permanent changes. We only recorded half a dozen such cases.”

“Then why do I still have them? Look at me.” The reddish glow of your eyes flared brighter. Her face froze in fear as you leaned closer. “My teammates are afraid of me. My friends don’t like me. I scare children when I get closer. People think I’m going to kill them just because of how I look at them. I can’t escape it. No matter what I do, this thing doesn’t go away. Was I one of those half-dozen?” How fucking unlucky would that make you?

“No. You’re not.” Cerise turned her head, unable to meet your eyes. “But you were one of the first people we exposed for a prolonged period. I was… ordered to monitor you daily, to see if you stabilized. Do you remember why you had to come see me every day?”

You nodded. You remembered all too well.

“That was the prolonged exposure doing its thing. That’s why your symptoms appear to be permanent. I should have told you sooner, but I couldn’t. My superiors would have killed me. They might still kill me, even now. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

> Break her nose with a headbutt. She experimented on you. She changed your life for the worse. Let her feel just a fraction of what she put you through.
> Dislocate her arm. It would heal eventually. Too merciful for what she deserved. But her pain would at least cool your rage for a moment.
> Scream until your lungs burn. Punch a wall, break something, anything to drown out the rage in your head and chest. Your future was stolen from you, and you felt this would bring you a tiny fraction of peace.
> Control yourself. You were seconds away from lashing out. But you weren’t a beast. Hold it in. Not here. Not now. Maybe later.
> Other (Write in)

>>6308543
>Break her nose with a headbutt. She experimented on you. She changed your life for the worse. Let her feel just a fraction of what she put you through

>>6308543
>Break her nose with a headbutt. She experimented on you. She changed your life for the worse. Let her feel just a fraction of what she put you through.

>>6308543
>Break her nose with a headbutt. She experimented on you. She changed your life for the worse. Let her feel just a fraction of what she put you through.

File: Cerise.png (126 KB, 272x294)

126 KB PNG

>>6308543

The rage hit you first. Hot, blinding and uncontrollable. Before you even realized what you were doing, you lunged forward and slammed your forehead into hers. There was a sickening crack that you both felt and heard.

She stumbled back, hitting the floor hard while clutching her face. Your skull palpitated while heat was radiating from it down towards your entire body. Your head felt warm, under an unknown pressure. You wanted to lash out, to scream. To cry. There was no going back. Your old life? Having fun in school? Saving people from the Grimm? A hug from your family? It was never coming back. And if it did? It would never be the same. You were fundamentally different, and there was no cure, no way to reverse it. And it was all her fault.

The lights flickered, snapping you back into reality. The sudden glow burned your eyes, forcing you to shield them with your hand. The pain from your head helped you. It grounded you, dragging you out of that storms that was assailing your thoughts.

When your vision cleared, Cerise was still on the floor. Her right hand pressed against her face, blood leaking between her fingers. The blood pooled quickly, bright against the dirty blueish floor, seeping into her white coat, a stain that didn’t made you feel better at all.

Damn. You did that. How ironic it was, that in this fleeting moment a furious impulse made you lose control and hurt her? In a way, this was her fault. You wouldn’t have done this should your body not be… like it was right now. But she wasn’t entirely to blame. You also could’ve controlled yourself better. You knew better. This wasn’t the first time these… surges of emotion made you do a reckless decision.

And a small, reluctant part of you almost felt sorry for her.

“I… deserved that…” Cerise’s voice was muffled by her own hand, quiet but steady. She wasn’t condemning you. She wasn’t even angry. In a roundabout way, you were judging yourself harsher than she was judging you right now.

You stepped closer, eyes still aching from the light while your hands dug into the pouches hidden under your kimono. With a strip of bandage in your hand, you knelt down and held it out to her.

“Sorry for that.” you muttered. “With all the crap you just dropped on me, I… lost control.” Hurting a civilian was never easy. Even when they had it coming. It didn’t make you feel better. Not really. Just a tiny bit.

Cerise turned her head, peering at you from between her bloodied fingers. Her sharp green eyes stayed locked on yours as if weighing whether your words could be trusted. After a long moment, she took the bandage you offered, pressing it to her nose and wiping away the blood streaking down her face.

You reached out to help her up, but she brushed your hand aside. Not in a hostile, ‘get away from me’ kind of gesture. More like a ‘it’s okay, I can do it myself’.

You scanned the corridor while Cerise focused on stopping her bleeding, her back turned to you. She stumbled slightly as she walked, glancing up at the glowing blue lights that now illuminated the hallways with their usual brightness. The blackout was over.

Not ideal.

Now the Black Sheep would know exactly where you were. Though, realistically, they probably already did. There was no way the power would stay out until you escaped. This was inevitable.

“You’re taking this… surprisingly well, for someone in your situation.” Cerise said, her voice broken by a wet cough. She spat a mix of blood and mucus onto the floor. It was… revolting, but at least she wasn’t doing it near you.

“Do you want me to do more?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. Your impulses were still hard to keep in check, like your body was acting on its own for a split second before your mind caught up.

“No. No.” She raised her hands quickly. “I understand. I… would be mad too if I was in your situation. Again. I’m sorry.” She sounded far too calm. Maybe she was used to being under the constant threat of being killed? Working for such a despicable criminal syndicate, you expected as much.

And then the thought struck you. She might not have an instant cure for what was wrong with your head, but she was intelligent. Useful. If you helped her get out of here, maybe she’d try to fix you. Leaving her here wasn’t an option. She was one of the only people who could help you. Not only that, but letting her stay here was putting other potential victims at risk.

“Let’s go. We need to get away from here. Somewhere safer for both of us.” But Cerise shook her head, stepping back slightly, her nostrils still stuffed with strips of the bandage you’d given her.

“No.”

Seriously? After everything that just happened?

For a split second, her expression broke, fear flashing in her eyes before she looked away. “S-sorry. No, I mean… I wouldn’t advise that.” You didn’t even need to see yourself to know that your face had just frightened her. Maybe wearing the White Fang mask again wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Explain yourself.” You slipped the White Fang mask back over your eyes. It wouldn’t hide everything, but at least you wouldn’t look quite so feral.

“By telling you all of this, I’ve already broken more rules than I can count.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. Pain, guilt, fear, you couldn’t tell which. “I’d… like your help with something.”

“Help you with what?” Something at the back of your mind made you feel uneasy. Something was wrong. You couldn’t point out what exactly, but you knew she wasn’t telling everything she knew.

“I know a way to reach the lower levels. It’s close to here.” She hesitated between each phrase, searching for the right words. “I… want to go there.”

Your grip on your weapon tightened. “And why should I take you there? We should be leaving. Staying here is a death sentence.” On your own, you could deal with soldiers, turrets, whatever the Black Sheep’s security had waiting in the dark. But with her? She was a liability, a civilian to guard. Every step would be slower, and you just couldn’t afford to lose her.

“I’m… not supposed to go there. I don’t have clearance.” Another pause, another careful choice of words. “Someone close to me went down there months ago. A… colleague. I don’t know what happened to him. I need to make sure he’s still fine.”

You exhaled sharply. “That’s too dangerous.”

She was your key. Your best shot at understanding what was wrong with you, and she wanted to dive deeper into enemy territory in this coffin of a mountain? Your instincts screamed that this was a terrible idea. But… curiosity was getting the best of you. What was so secret that even their top scientist couldn’t access it?

“I know.” She swallowed, forcing herself to look at you. “But with you here, I feel… safer. Alone, they’d kill me on sight. But with you, maybe I stand a chance to… to find him. I need your protection.”

It was almost insulting. You’d been treating her well enough that now she thought she could bargain with you. A hostage shouldn’t ask his kidnapper for favors, much less for protection. Maybe she needed a reminder of the position she was in.

> Deny her request. She was too valuable to risk. Secure her first, get her out of here, willingly or by force. She could help you later, on your terms.
> Turn this into leverage. Agree to help her, but only if she promises to help you with what’s happening in your head. Helping her now might make her more cooperative later.
> Press for more answers. She was still hiding something. Push harder, get her to explain what’s really going on below. Maybe you’d catch her up on a lie?
> Other (Write in)

>>6310112
>Turn this into leverage. Agree to help her, but only if she promises to help you with what’s happening in your head. Helping her now might make her more cooperative later.

>>6310112
>Turn this into leverage. Agree to help her, but only if she promises to help you with what’s happening in your head. Helping her now might make her more cooperative later.