Six Months Later
The warehouse district sat on the far edge of the Atlas perimeter just, north of the Schnee shipyards. Snow from the winter storms covered the roofs of the large wide buildings that sat neatly in rows. Most of them contained Schnee products waiting to be ordered by stores and customers across Remnant. A little under a quarter had been leased out to other groups. The remaining warehouses, which numbered less than a dozen, sat scattered across the vast expanse of corrugated metal roofs and snow drifts. Empty and bare, the only ones who laid claim to them were the rats in the walls and the spiders on the ceiling.
At least, that's what their landlords thought.
Nestled deep amongst the rows, next to a cluster of warehouses with the Schnee emblem emblazoned on their fronts was an unrented warehouse. Plain and nondescript, the only thing that made it different from any of the others was that it was not unused. Hardly anyone was aware of this; most of the traffic that passed by were the automated pallet drivers that Schnee Dust used to collect product for delivery. Unless the warehouse was viewed from the air, where a series of sunroofs gave a limited view of the interior, no one could see what was going on inside.
Which was why two men were on top of the roof, crawling on their hands and knees towards a sunroof. The leader reached up and brushed the snow away from one of the panels, revealing the interior below.
Compared to the nearby warehouses that were full to bursting with Dust, this one was relatively empty; though anything more than completely barren would be abnormal for an unleased building. Beneath the rusty metal catwalks and big dish ceiling lights, a handful of dirty white plastic folding tables had been set up. Six men holding a variety of guns guarded the tables and the dozen or so workers at them. They worked in an assembly line fashion; unpacking weapons from boxes marked with the Schnee Dust Company symbol and repackaging them in unmarked wooden crates. As the two figures watched the scene the person at the end of the line put the last rifle in a crate and slammed the lid on top, sealing it with a hammer and some nails. Another worker slid a handtruck underneath the crate and rolled it towards a line of similar wooden crates against the wall. As he returned to the assembly line, the two men watched a white tail coming out from a hole in his workers overalls flick irritably back and forth.
"Greeve, I've been wondering. Are we racists?" Yarrow asked the other man looking through the sunroof.
"What? Yarrow, where is that coming from?" Greeve asked in turn, taken aback by his teammate's question.
"I mean, think about it. Every time we need someone to infiltrate somewhere, we send in Ebon. First time it was that trafficking ring disguised as a circus, then it was the anarcho group, and now gunrunners moving stolen Schnee tech. Are our actions insinuating that most criminals are Faunus?"
Greeve stared at Yarrow for a solid fifteen seconds before shaking his head and returning his gaze to the scene below. "Just, focus on the mission at hand. We can discuss this later."
"Fine," Yarrow relented, "but I'm asking Ebon if he thinks we're racist. Specifically if you are, since you're the one who makes all these racist plans. You racist."
Greeve came very close to replying to Yarrow's comment but forced himself to remain silent. There were many ways of arguing with Yarrow, and most of them ended with Yarrow emerging the victor. Besides, given time, Yarrow would restart the argument of his own volition. There was no sense in doing the job for him.
He instead opened a pouch on his belt and removed a tool that resembled a pair of plyers with saw teeth at the end. He handed them to Yarrow, who placed the nearest hinge of the sunroof between their jaws and began rhythmically squeezing the tool. With each squeeze, the two sawblades moved back and forth against the metal hinge. He got four squeezes in when he paused and turned to look at Greeve. Greeve, who was surveying the interior, felt the gaze and turned to face Yarrow. He didn't need to ask what was on his teammate's mind, the grin told him everything. As much as he'd prefer to simply ignore his teammate, there was the off chance that Yarrow actually had some pertinent information and was for some reason making that face at the same time. With Ebon down below he couldn't chance it.
"Yes Yarrow?"
"I just remembered; Ebon is black too."
Greeve took a deep breath. "Get back to work Yarrow."
Yarrow faked a pouty lip, but turned back to his tool. The cold air around them was once again filled by the quiet rasps of metal upon metal. As Yarrow finished up on the first hinge, their comms lit up with chatter.
"Gray Leader, this is Gray Two. In position and ready to engage."
"Good job Gray Two," Greeve said, slightly relieved he could change his attention from Yarrow to something else. "Gray four is getting the sunroof ready, we'll be dropping in, in a, Yarrow, what are you doing?"
Yarrow, having finished the next hinge, was attempting to get over to the third one. Unfortunately for Greeve, he had decided the best way to do this was to slide over his leader's body.
"Getting that last hinge so we can go save Ebon, hi Ro," Yarrow added over the comms. "Can't trust your racist ass to save him after all, you're the one who put him down there in the first place. Probably would leave him to rot too if it weren't for me."
"Sorry, what did you say?" Gray Two, Rojoe, asked.
Greeve sighed. "Gray Four is being himself Gray Two; remain in position. I'll comm when we're ready."
"Copy that."
"Gray Five, what's your status?"
Greeve's question was met with nothing but silence over the radio. After a couple of seconds, Greeve tried again. "Gray Five, do you read?"
Once again, silence. Yarrow paused his squeezing and glanced at Greeve with a bit of concern. Down below, Ebon paused as he tilted the handtruck back.
The four of them were thinking the exact same thing about what Gray Five's silence could mean; he'd been captured. And if he were caught, the element of surprise was gone. For the sake of stealth, Ebon had forsaken the two magnum revolvers he normally carried, and had entrusted them to Greeve until they met up again. In the seconds it would take for Greeve and Yarrow to get down to the floor and engage the gunrunners, Ebon could be seriously injured, or even killed. If they were already on alert, the danger was even greater. Not to mention what could happen to Gray Five.
Greeve had to make a choice, and decided to try contact one more time before going in. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, when Rojoe's voice came over the communicator. "Gray One, I have Gray Five with me. Something's up with his comms, I'm going to take a look at them."
Yarrow breathed a sigh of relief and returned to sawing at the hinge. Down below, Ebon also began pushing the handcart once more. Greeve unclenched a fist he hadn't realized he had made and replied to Rojoe. "Negative Gray Two, we've almost opened the sunroof."
"By we you mean me," Yarrow muttered.
"Are you done?" Greeve asked.
"Yeah, actually," Yarrow said as he gingerly lifted the sunroof free from the shredded hinges and set it up above in a snowdrift.
"We've got entry Gray Two. Keep Gray Five with you; Gray Four can look at the compiece post mission."
"Understood."
"And Rojoe," Greeve said sternly.
"Yes, Greeve?"
"Don't let him out of your sight this time."
"Yes sir," Rojoe said, her embarrassment obvious even through the radio.
Greeve pushed his head down through the hole, trying to figure out how he could take out as many of the gunrunners in his first move. His gaze drifted to the catwalk, and a comment Yarrow had made came to mind.
"Gray Three, mission starts next crate drop. Be advised, we will be dropping stuns into the warehouse, watch your eyes. Two flicks if you read."
Down below, Ebon's tail flicked back and forth twice in quick succession.
"Gray Two and Five, count to five post flash and enter. Aim to stun, we want them alive. Gray Four, I want you to watch exit C now that Gray Five is with Gray Two. Does anyone have anything to declare?"
"Yeah, I'm really glad we changed the callsigns back to Gray," Yarrow said as he pulled his axes out and leveled the business end at the assembly line. "Rolls off the tongue so much better than Grayed. Whose idea was that anyways?"
Greeve ignored his teammate and instead tugged off the matte black gloves he was wearing over Haunted Toll, his weaponized gloves. He flicked his hands towards the catwalk, pointing with two fingers, and the wires launched from his fingertips. They wrapped themselves tightly around the catwalk several feet from each other. Yarrow tsked as Greeve tested them but didn't say anything else. Below, Ebon picked up another crate and began to wheel it towards the other crate stacks.
"Yarrow, flash them," Greeve whispered."
"Operation Ebon Rip-off is a go then," Yarrow said with a smirk. He squeezed the trigger twice, and two stun pellets flew out and landed next to one of the guard's feet. Greeve and Yarrow averted their eyes as the pellets detonated, briefly illuminating the warehouse as if it were daytime. At once the interior was filled with the screams of the gunrunners as their eyes were blinded by intensity.
"We are not calling it that," Greeve shouted as he got up to one knee, and pushed himself through the opening. He fell past the catwalks and let his wires spool from Haunted Toll until he was only a couple feet from the ground. The catwalk buckled and groaned as the wires bit in, but held in place. Greeve swung down and kicked one of the guards reeling from the flash. The guard was sent flying and Greeve rose towards the ceiling. As he neared the top of his swing, Greeve gave the wires a firm squeeze, activating the Dust infused within. A line of brilliant red raced up their length and sliced through the catwalk like it was made of butter. The wires disintegrated from the heat and Greeve rolled to a stop. The section of cut catwalk dropped down slightly, but didn't fall evenly and was held in place. He shoved his hands into his coat and brought out replacement spools of wire for Haunted Toll, which he slid into their spots on the top of his gloves.
By now the guards knew something was happening but didn't know what or where the danger came from. Two of the guards raised their weapons and began firing blindly. Everyone else scattered as bullets ripped through the air and skittered off support columns. Ebon lifted the box laden handtruck off of the ground and used his semblance to whip it towards the guards. One guard crumpled under the heavy box while a second was merely clipped on the shoulder by the handtruck. His aim thrown off, his shots were scattered in a jagged line across the wall.
"Grey Three; you're up!" Greeve called to his teammate. He freed the two revolvers from his coat and tossed them towards his teammate. Ebon plucked them from the air like they were jugglers batons and leveled them at the second guard. Two shots burst from their barrels in a blast of smoke and fire, and slammed home into the man's chest. He was lifted from the ground as if a Goliath had launched him with its powerful trunk and slammed into one of the folding tables. The table flipped into the two workers behind it, and skidded across the concrete floor until it crashed into one of the metal supports, spilling the Schnee crates and their hardware everywhere in their wake.
By now the stun was beginning to wear off, and the three remaining guards were able to take some stock of the situation. Greeve heard the two behind him racking the bolts of their rifles and the one to his right do the same. He immediately summoned a portal to his rear and fell through it as the first bullets began to fly. A moment later he stepped backwards out of another portal between the two guards. Ebon wasn't as lucky as his leader and was struck by one of the bullets before he activated his own semblance and leapt into the air. He grabbed onto an intact catwalk and hauled himself over the railing before standing back up. The ability to manipulate gravity wasn't as impressive as portal creation, but it certainly had its uses.
"The hell did they go?" one of the guards yelled, having been focused on Greeve and thus missing Ebon's miraculous leap. They scanned the area before sighting Greeve as his portal began to collapse in front of him.
Greeve released more of his wire and prepared to fight the two as they turned around to deal with him. Before anyone could attack however, there was a terrific yell from up on the roof.
Yarrow, having spent the entire battle so far watching the carnage Greeve and Ebon wrought, had finally found his entrance. He came through the sunroof whooping in excitement, his two axes held high over his head. He landed on the damaged section of catwalk and jarred it enough to finally send the hunk of metal crashing onto the concrete floor and breaking into pieces. As the guards instinctively shrunk away from the crash, he leapt off the wreckage and sprinted towards the guards. As he closed the distance, he went into a slide on his knees and slashed his axes into the guard's legs. Their legs went out from under them and they collapsed to the floor, screaming in pain. Yarrow jumped to his feet and spun around to deliver two solid kicks to their heads, knocking them out.
It was at this moment that the single remaining guard and most of the workers realized that this was a losing battle. The three teenagers they could see had subdued a third of their numbers in less than a minute, and those that remained hardly had any weaponry ready to fight them. Two of the workers were trying to pull weapons and ammunition from the crates, while the others dropped what they were holding and sprinted for an exit. Yarrow noticed half of them running towards the sliding doors of the loading bays, and ran to intercept. He skidded to a stop in between two of them and leaned backwards against the wall; his axes making dull thuds as they knocked against the cinderblock wall.
"Gentlemen," Yarrow said, drawing out the g. The workers stumbled to a stop, eying Yarrow warily. In their eyes, he had only come in mere moments ago, but he had taken out the two guards as easily as one might sweep a pile of dust with a broom.
"You know, surrendering is probably your best bet," Yarrow continued. "I'm the lovable science geek they put on the team to pander to the nerds. Your other options are the gruff leader or hard as nails racial minority."
There was the sound of wailing from back by the tables, and the workers turned around in time to see Ebon grab one of the resisting workers by the front of his shirt and toss him into the wrecked catwalk section. The other worker gave up trying to load and swung his rifle like a club, which Ebon ducked underneath and whipped the man in the chin before throwing him over the top of the table.
The six workers turned back to Yarrow, who offered them a wide grin and a pair of eyebrows raised in the interrogative. In quick succession, the workers raised their hands and got onto their knees.
"We've got runners!" Ebon called out. "Exit B!"
Yarrow glanced at his teammate, then followed his pointing hand to where the other five workers and single remaining guard had forced an emergency exit door open. They spilled out into the dark snowy night as an emergency alarm began to blare. Yarrow took a half step towards the group, but stopped and leaned back against the wall. They had over half of the gunrunners incapacitated or in their custody, and the others wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. He looked down at his prisoners, who had seen their compatriots make a miraculous escape and were looking at the open door wistfully.
"Remember this later boys," Yarrow said, "They didn't choose the lovable nerd."
If the six gunrunners expected to get away cleanly, they were badly mistaken. Greeve had spent hours meticulously planning the attack, considering each of the three exits that the gunrunners could potentially escape from. One of the exits could easily be blocked off simply by making their entrance near it. The other two were covered by the rest of their team waiting outside of them, ready to delay anyone who made a run for it until the rest of the team could get there. The communications issue left the loading bay doors, or Exit C to team GREYD, open and unsupervised. Yarrow had been able to intercept the runners before they could reach them, leaving Exit B seemingly as their only viable option. Unbeknownst to the gunrunners, they were running into a trap.
The first man out of the exit had barely taken a handful of steps when there was a strange whistling sound that can only made by cylindrical shaped objects twirling through the air. It was followed closely behind by a cylindrical object twirling through the air and striking the man in the forehead. The cylindrical object, a tonfa was then yanked back underneath the metal stair scaffolding bolted onto the side of a warehouse and landed with a satisfying smack into the hands of Rojoe Scope.
"Nobody move!" Rojoe yelled as the first man crumpled to the ground. The remaining five skidded to a stop and scattered to the left and right of Rojoe, leaving their fallen comrade to his fate.
"Seriously?" Rojoe sighed as she turned and ran after the largest group to her left. She had hoped they would all go in one group; not only because it would make them easier to catch, but also because this was more than just a raid on the illegal arms dealers. This was a training mission.
As the three men made it to the corner of the warehouse, a figure jumped at them from the other side of the massive building. He was clad in a thick jacket with a winter camo print, a black woolen beanie and a half ski mask that covered his lower face. The moonlight glinted off the edge of a saber he held in a raised hand as he twisted it through the air. He rapped one of them with the flat of the blade, then pulled back to strike the second man across the jaw with the pommel, The figure then took a step back and retrieved a pistol from behind which he cocked and pointed at the first man's head. The third gunrunner panicked and tried to turn around but ended up slipping on a patch of ice and falling to the ground. Rojoe slid to a stop herself and knocked the fallen man out with a blow across his temple.
Before either Rojoe or the masked figure could dispatch the remaining gunrunners, one of them raised their hands and started slowly clapping. It was the one guard that had survived the assault inside the warehouse. His attire was different from the others; whereas they had worn turtlenecks and tactical gear, he wore a dark blue jacket with pieces of metal armor fastened on top. A metal gauntlet covered his right arm with what looked like a miniature crossbow built in. He removed a beret to wipe the trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth and revealed a head of short spiky blonde hair.
"Very impressive. Fifteen men in less than a minute, though I imagine the other two will be caught before they get too far. I guess that leaves just me then."
"You're under arrest for the theft and illegal trafficking of Schnee arms," Rojoe recited as she stood up and advanced towards the man. "Get on the ground, or we will oomph."
The man had tossed the beret into the air, which Rojoe had automatically followed with her eyes. As her attention left the man, he shoved his arms forward as if he was pushing something. A beam of moonlight solidified and struck Rojoe in the sternum, tossing her backwards into a snow drift. The man then pivoted on his feet and raised the beam to block the figure's sword. It skittered off with a horrendous screeching sound and the figure lost his balance momentarily. The worker saw this as a chance to make an escape and tried to run, but the man whipped the beam around and sent him sprawling onto the ground. Before he could get back up, the man grabbed another beam and threw it into head with a sickening crack.
"Well this has been fun, but I've got more sinister planning to accomplish," the man said. "Good day Miss Scope. Mister Grigio, I hope we meet again. Welcome to the big leagues children!"
The beam of moonlight launched off his hand, shoving the figure backwards across the ground. The man took off in a sprint towards a tall concrete wall. The figure ran after him for a few steps but stopped as the man leapt into the air and went over the other side of the wall. There was the sound of a vehicle starting, and moments later a car sped off into the distance.
"Dammit!" Rojoe cursed as she pulled herself from the bank and ran over to the worker the mysterious man had injured. "Gray Two to Gray One, we lost one. He's got a Semblance, some light barrier construct. He took out one of his own and is escaping by car."
There was a pause, then "I read you Gray Two," Greeve's voice said over the comms. "Don't pursue, keep the prisoners you've got. I'll radio Ironwood and have him track the vehicle and send paramedics."
"There's another thing," Rojoe said. "He knew who we were."
Static washed through the connection, then Greeve spoke up again. "Understood Gray Two."
Rojoe sighed and ended the link. "We were so close," she muttered as she pulled off her own beanie and shook her brilliant red hair free. She carefully kneeled next to the injured worker and elevated the man's head, pressing her beanie against the oozing wound. "Why would he attack one of his own men? It's got to be to escape, right?" She glanced up at the figure who was standing awkwardly over her. "Give me your mask Daniel, I need to make a bandage."
"Yes ma'am," Daniel said as he pulled the half ski mask free from his face and passed it to Rojoe. His appearance had changed in the six months he had spent under Team GREY's tutelage. While Atlas was a bit more accepting of Huntsmen-in-training having different styles than they were of their regular troops, Greeve had insisted Daniel follow regulations until he was assigned to a new team. As a result, his normally unkempt bright red hair had been buzzed less than a finger's width tall. Most of his wardrobe had proven unsuited for the icy northern climate, and Daniel had been forced to wear almost entirely what was offered by the quartermasters. But it wasn't just his hair and clothes that had changed. Daniel stood straighter, radiated confidence that a younger Daniel had never held. His fighting style had evolved from little more than waving a sword around, to actual moves and techniques used by swordsmen across Remnant.
The teenager that made up the fifth member of team GREYD was a completely different one than the dangerously untrained youth that had arrived at Atlas half a year ago. And in Daniel's mind, it was for the better.
The sound of something heavy being dragged across the snow preceded Greeve's approach towards Daniel and Rojoe. He was dragging the two workers that had run off to the right, having caught and subdued them on his own. He tossed the men next to the man Rojoe had subdued and surveyed the carnage. "What happened?" he asked.
"He caught us by surprise and escaped before we could do anything," Rojoe answered as she finished bandaging the injured man's head. "It won't happen again."
"Let's see it doesn't. He was likely the operation leader," Greeve said. "Otherwise, the two of you did good work. If he returns to gun trafficking, he'll need a new team for it."
"Thank you Greeve," Rojoe said. A tinge of red appeared on her cheeks that had very little to do with the cold.
"-So what you're saying is that you don't see it as racist?" Yarrow's voice said, carried by the wind.
"I said it's a necessary evil because of some poor decisions on my people's part."
The trio turned their attention to the approaching voices to find Ebon and Yarrow leading their group of captured gunrunners out of the warehouse at pistol and axepoint. Rojoe glanced at Greeve and saw him biting his lip to keep from speaking.
"So sort of racist then," Yarrow said.
Ebon took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Yes Yarrow. If it will shut you up, it is somewhat racist."
"Aha!" Yarrow shouted triumphantly. "You hear that Greeve? You're a somewhat racist! You somewhat racist you!"
"Good gods," Rojoe said under her breath. "This is going to be worse than Haywood Circus."
Unfortunately, the wind had died down somewhat, and Yarrow was able to catch enough of Rojoe's comment to get her point. "Ro, nothing will top Haywood Circus. I've got enough pictures of Ebon in a tutu for a lifetime of blackmail."
On most nights, a Simple Wok was a relatively quiet place to eat in the evening. It wasn't for lack of customers, rather it came from a lack of seating. The only places to sit were the counter right at the stand, or the two wooden park benches that were situated a couple of feet in front. Tonight was different however; there was a celebration to be had.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Rylers and Lewises, may I present to you all a healthy Nicholas!"
The four teenage boys at the table clapped and applauded at Schatten's announcement. Nick in turn smiled and shook his head in embarrassment at the proceedings.
"It ain't nothing guys. I've been healthy for months now," he said in a gravelly voice. The doctors had managed to repair Nick's vocal chords to the point where he wouldn't hurt them from simply talking too much, but his voice was still to be rougher than it used to be. It probably would be like this for the rest of his life.
"You don't need to write what you want to say anymore man," Lewis said. "I think that's a pretty good sign of being healthy."
"Lewis, you smoke enough weed to get our entire team high twice over, and your hair is still in braids from last week," Schatten said. "You're not one to talk about being healthy."
"Yes, however his sickness lies in the brain, while Nicholas' throat has been fully repaired," Tiberius added.
The group shared a laugh at Lewis' expense, but it wasn't just Lewis' hair that had changed. He had replaced the leather vest he had lost at the fight club with a lighter colored one, complete with strands hanging from the bottom. His tie-dye shirt had been exchanged with a black long-sleeved shirt with a green leaf design on the front. A bandoleer was slung over his left shoulder that held pockets for a variety of Dust picks he had added to his arsenal.
Indeed, most of Team LSTRDLN had changed their outfits in the six months since the fight club. Schatten's leather jacket had to be retired after a brutal sparring session. He had replaced it with a tight black vest over a light gray zip-up hoodie that he left perpetually closed. Blast Shard had also been extensively modified and now covered most of his forearms.
Tiberius had surprisingly been convinced to give up his white coat for most occasions. Instead he wore a light blue vest over the white dress shirt he had worn underneath the coat. This was one such occasion, although it was obvious he regretted his decision every time the wind picked up.
Ryler and Nick were the least changed of the group. Nick had added a large bandana around his neck that helped cover up the nasty scar Glas had given him. Ryler's outfit hadn't changed at all, save for an accessory equally as ridiculous as the outfit he had always worn. A bright pastel green hat that matched his plaid jacket sat on top of his naturally green hair that he'd put a single pink stripe down the side. The stripe went well with the bow tie around his neck and the ribbon on his new hat.
"Dakota? You've been quiet tonight, you doing good?" Schatten asked.
Dakota glanced up from something he'd been holding in his hands and shook his head. He was the only one who had elected to keep his old attire and hadn't added anything special to it. Save for a couple of new t-shirts he had acquired, the only difference in his appearance was that he had allowed his hair to grow out. His once short black hair had become shaggy, and covered the majority of his forehead.
"Hm? Yeah, I'm good. Just waiting for a good time to show these off," Dakota said as he uncrossed his arms to reveal two new pipes weapons. They were about the same size as his old single pipe, but were covered in a geometric pattern that seemed to be etched into them and extended down most of their length. The small amounts on one end that lacked the pattern instead had two circles etched onto the sides.
"Hey, are those your new weapons?" Ryler asked ecstatically. "I was wondering what you and Lunare were doing in his garage. You and him were finagling some new weapons!"
"That's, not how that word is used, but, yeah. These are them," Dakota said. "I figured someone had to get him out of that funk after his million Lien deal went down the drain. And to be honest," he added with a hint of embarrassment, "I kind of needed it too."
The group shifted nervously, as an awkward pause set in. Dakota's bought with depression had been a rocky couple of months that had only recently ended. The rest of the team had almost gone and forced him to see someone about it, but Dakota had approached Lunare about helping him modify his weapon before they'd reached a consensus. With something to occupy their minds, the mood of the two had quickly improved and the rest of the team decided to drop the matter for the time.
"Dakota, I can't imagine you didn't want to show off your new tools; so why don't you go on ahead?" Nick said.
"Yeah, I wanted to show them off, but," Dakota shook his head, "ah forget it. I don't want to overshadow you being better, which I am glad to hear by the way," he added as an afterthought, pointing at his teammate.
The rest of the group immediately expressed their desire to see the weapons and clamored for Dakota to show them off. After a few moments, Dakota shook his head with a smile and held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. Nick you okay with me stealing your thunder?"
Nick smiled and made a signal for him to continue.
Dakota picked both of the weapons up and presented them to the group. "Two ordinary pipes, as you can see. But should I press these two buttons," he said as he depressed the etched circles with his thumbs. Immediately, the two pipes broke apart at the patterns to form two-foot lengths of chain, "they become something extraordinary."
Instantly, the group leaned forward gazed in awe of the transformation. "My word," Tiberius said in awe. "Are those electromagnets?"
"Yeah, they're in the solid bits," Dakota said. "It doesn't take a lot to power them, so the battery is good for a long while." He pressed the circles several times more, and the weapons changed back and forth between the two forms in less than a second. "But if I want a bit more reach, I can do this." He changed the weapons back to pipes and stuck the two ends together so that the handles were on opposite sides of the weapon. He twisted them a bit, and the two halves came together with a resounding click. He then pressed one of the buttons again, and the long pipe transformed into an even longer length of chain. "I'm thinking of calling it Reaper's Reach, since I called my old weapon just pipe and chain."
The group replied with a resounding round of applause as Dakota turned the chain back into a pipe and separated the two pieces. He flipped them both into reverse grips, and slid them into dual leather holsters on each side of his jacket.
It was at this moment that the old man behind the counter signaled that their food was ready. As one, the hungry boys clambered out from the table and rushed the counter to receive large heaping bowls of noodles. They then returned to the benches and began to dig in furiously.
"Sho, do you fink runare ish onna in?" Lewis asked, his mouth full of noodles.
Tiberius swallowed his mouthful before answering. "No Lewis, I highly doubt Lunare will be successful. He may have flown all the way up to Atlas to appeal to the generals themselves, but they had a very excellent reason for banning those disruptors. Something that can drain an aura and bring someone into unconsciousness in a single hit could lead to some serious consequences. It's no wonder why they called it a 'Huntsman killer'."
Dakota made a noise with his mouth and held a finger in the air before gulping down a massive wad of noodles. "That reminds me; thank you Ty for helping me get those dust injectors. I was getting tired of picking glass out of my hand after fights."
"If you insist on using dust in such an irresponsible and dangerous manner, it is the least I can do to ensure you do it sanitarily," Tiberius responded.
"You got your hands on those medical dust dispensers?" Lewis asked. "Aw man, I thought you had to get a doctor's note for those. I messed up my angle horribly."
"I am the son of a Schnee board member," Tiberius said with some pride. "My father was able to speed the process along for a medical dispensary to get proper authorization to supply them. In return they put in a good word for Dakota."
Tiberius' comment brought an end to the discussion and they all returned to their bowls. Soon other topics were brought up; ranging from the latest round of homework Professor Oobleck had assigned, to the ongoing argument regarding a show that they watched. Eventually however, the conversation unintentionally strayed back into sensitive territory.
"I'm telling you Lewis, it's only a matter of time before we get X-Ray and Vav season 3!" Ryler argued, slamming his fist down on the table to emphasize his point.
"No man, the spirits say that you're wrong," Lewis countered." The voice for X-Ray isn't working with them anymore; I read it on the forums."
"Oh yeah? You mean the same spirits that said Daniel would be back?" Ryler asked. He gasped and immediately covered his mouth with his hands, but it was too late. the words had already flown from his mouth.
Team LSTRDLN all froze in their actions, then slowly turned their heads to Dakota, who was in the middle of a furious battle between the side of his bowl and the last noodle that clung desperately to it. He became aware that all conversation had abruptly stopped, and glanced up at the cautious faces watching his own.
"What, we're allowed to talk about him now?" he asked.
"Ah, well, you see," Tiberius said, for once at a loss of words.
"You guys thought I was going to blow up if someone mentioned Daniel around me?" Dakota asked. "Gods, no wonder he hasn't come up in ages!"
"Wait, what?" Ryler asked.
"Guys, it's fine. I'm over Daniel leaving," Dakota said.
"Dakota," Nick said, "You got mighty tense these past six months if we so much as grazed that topic."
"Yeah, I was mad at Daniel," Dakota said. "Hell, I'm still pissed he didn't even ask us before he went and made his decision. But you know what? I couldn't care less at this point. If he wants to stay at Atlas, then that's his deal. Good luck to him I say!"
Dakota reached his chop sticks into his bowl and successfully grabbed the last noodle and slurped it down.
"So, we can talk about him now?" Schatten asked carefully.
"Well, yeah," Dakota nodded. "That's what I just said, right?"
The rest of team LSTRDLN glanced amongst themselves before cautiously returning to their nearly empty bowls. No conversation started up again, but each person secretly was relieved that they no longer had to walk so testily around what they had assumed was a controversial subject.
"How long were you waiting to tell us this?!" Lewis shouted.
"Greeve, I gotta ask you something."
"You've been doing a lot of that tonight, Yarrow."
"That whole thing where you had me cut through the sunroof. Why didn't you just teleport in? I didn't come in until the shooting started, so we didn't have to be stealthy at that point."
The five members of Team GREYD had just disembarked from the airship that had picked them up from the warehouse district and returned them to campus. They had given General Ironwood a preliminary report on the raid and had been instructed to retire for the evening.
"I wanted a better view of the interior before going in," Greeve said. "If I teleported onto the ground floor immediately, they would've seen me."
"So, just teleport onto one of the catwalks," Yarrow said. "You used them anyways."
Greeve opened his mouth to respond, but closed it and frowned, deep in thought.
"Greeve, did you forget to use your semblance?" Yarrow asked teasingly.
For one scary moment, Daniel was certain Greeve was going to turn around and attack Yarrow. He'd missed out on most of their interactions during the raid thanks to his faulty earpiece, but from what he had seen and what he knew about Yarrow, he had been particularly irritating to Greeve tonight. He watched as Greeve's fists clenched tightly for a moment before relaxing. He stopped in the middle of the snow-covered parking lot they were trekking through and turned to address the four behind him.
"Good work team GREYD," Greeve said, ignoring Yarrow completely. I wasn't going to mention this until later, but General Ironwood has given us the day off tomorrow."
There was cheering at this announcement, mostly from Yarrow who clapped his hands together in joy.
"He also asked that I not make you do anything on your day off, but we're still doing morning calisthenics. So I expect all four of you there," he added with a glare in Yarrow's direction. "I will be getting an early start on my report, but the rest of you are free to do as you wish until then."
"Alright! Ebon, you coming with me for a night on the town?" Yarrow asked after Greeve dismissed them.
"You could literally ask anyone else, and yet you decided to ask the one other person you irritated tonight," Ebon said.
"Well, Daniel is underage, and Rojoe always goes to fill out her report with Greeve, so who else can I go with?"
"I do not always go with Greeve!" Rojoe protested, a flush coming to her face.
"Maybe, but were you going with him this time?" Yarrow asked with a raised eyebrow.
Before Rojoe could answer, something drew Daniel's attention away from the group. A familiar silhouette in the distance moved amongst the parked cars. He'd seen it a handful of times, usually out of the corner of his eye or as a strange shadow in the night. And each time, he'd been unable to investigate it further. He'd been too busy, or would get a call from one of the others that they'd been assigned a mission. It would disappear into the distance while he watched on helplessly. Not this time however. This time he was free to pursue.
"Daniel? Hey, Daniel!"
"Hm?" Daniel asked, snapping his attention back at the group.
"We're all splitting, you heading back to the room?" Ebon asked.
"I'll be there in a bit," Daniel said, excited to go after the silhouette. "I'll catch you guys later."
"Well, if you're not going to the dormitory, let me turn your generator off," Greeve said.
Daniel turned around, and Greeve pulled his coat and shirt up to where he had access to the generator. Daniel shivered as the cold air blew across his exposed skin and was relieved when he felt the familiar draining of energy and his clothes were lowered down his back.
"Don't stay up too late, remember you've got calisthenics at four," Greeve cautioned.
"Yeah, don't be like me!" Yarrow called out, already heading off on his own. "If you show up as drunk as I'll be, we'll be having some serious discussions young man!"
Daniel waved goodbye and took a leisurely stroll in the direction the silhouette. The instant he passed out of a streetlight however, he broke out into a hurried pace. It was on the far side of the parking lot now, near a concrete wall topped with barbed wire; the school munitions dump. The implications of these two things quickened Daniel's pace even further. As he got to the final row before the silhouette, he paused behind one of the cars and got down on a knee. Cautiously, he peeked over the hood and saw that the silhouette standing next to an impossible sight. Either it was indeed what he thought it was, or it was an exact replica down to the bumps and scratches he remembered so clearly in his mind's eye.
The sheer impossibility of the dark silhouette being in Atlas was the only thing that tempered him with caution. It wasn't the first time he had wished he could turn the generator on through the multiple layers of clothes. No matter, he had trained to fight both with and without his Aura. Daniel reached back and removed his pistol from its holster. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb and readied it in his hand. His other hand crept down to where his saber sat on his belt, and he pulled it partially out of its scabbard.
"You can come out now assassin. I saw you several rows ago."
In a rush, Daniel ripped his saber free and leapt up from his crouched position. Before he could take a step further, a steel blade glinting in the moonlight met him at his throat. It sat beneath the barrel of a short stocky gun on top of a pole. Its cloaked owner held the blade angled at his throat for a couple of seconds, then, raising up his other hand, he pressed down on something it.
The lights of Scrapmetal burst into life, blinding Daniel and illuminating the form of Lunare Nacht, holding Nieh Mehr ready for attack.
"Good evening Daniel," Lunare said. "Have you by chance come to kill me?"
Hello everyone and welcome back to To be Human Book 2! After a six month break in real life and in the story, I hope you all have enjoyed the triumphant return! Chapters will be posted once a month on the first Friday of every month. Please drop a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, and I'll see you all next month!
-Wrench
ns 15.158.61.20da2
