[IC] Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

[Silvan Haven]

@HereComesTheSnow@Crimmy@Write

Beryl Harken

Beryl was quiet. She was very glad to see Luke of course, the boy was one of the first she had met at Beacon and had even offered to show her around. In fact she had been stepping forward to give him a hug before Bianca started talking to him.

And how could she interrupt when such hope shone from the winged Faunus' eyes?

Bianca was in bad condition. Her body and soul had suffered terrible wounds over the course of her captivity. It was a state that Beryl was far too used to seeing in the children that Father took in off the streets. A state of trauma that could and often did take years to recover from. Sometimes a person never fully recovered.

Determination, maybe a little desperation hiding under there as well. It radiated from her friend with such intensity that Beryl could not help but share in some of it as well. Bianca was bent, she was cracked, her body broken and her mind savaged.

But not broken.

How could Beryl do anything but have her back?

[Crimmy]

Gratia Mindaro

"Ninety-five percent certain?"

There were many things one could say about Gratia Mindaro. Most were not particularly good things. That was a given, of course; the Mistralese girl was an existence that ran entirely counter to all that was good and holy. She was arrogant, immensely so, with an ego that could blot out the sun. Her words were rude and abrasive to nearly everyone, filled with a vulgarity beyond the norm. Beneath that stoic, formal exterior was someone who was really just a massive bitch, and coupled with her bloodthirsty, ultraviolent tendencies, it was a wonder that anybody tolerated her presence. However, if one could note a single redeeming quality, then the obvious answer would be her loyalty.

Her loyalty to her team.

Her loyalty to her family.

Her loyalty to her friend.

In an instant, Gratia Mindaro had drawn her blade, slicing a thin line across her right palm. Blood instantly began to pool from the fresh wound, but if one were to look into the girl's eyes, there was no sign of pain. Her onyx orbs were impassive as always, and her expression remained unchanged.

"Make it a hundred percent, Schwarz."

[Write]

@Silvan Haven, @Crimmy, @HereComesTheSnow

Disregarding the strangeness of the situation I watched carefully as Luke pinpricked his own hand. I watched as it healed itself.

I could see my feathers now.

Without another word on my end I turned around and lowered my hospital gown in order for Luke to be able to see the full extent of the damage. From the stem of the wings down to every last feather. The damage was terribly extensive. My gown still covered my chest, not that Luke could see it as I was turned away from him, but everything other than my wings were covered. Typically with this level of exposure, Gratia would say something, Beryl would tell me to get dressed, or cover me, I’d blush at least.

But nothing was heard other than the ceiling fan. It’s cold calculated cycling. It was tense.

I couldn’t wait much longer. 95% success rate.

Something like that can’t help but make you feel like the five percent. Would the five percent have survived the Dodici? Would the 95% have died in that office building? Was the 95% the percentage of people who could one day hope to become hunters? Or was that once more the five percent? Increasingly in my life I’ve felt like the five percent. Whether that be in wealth, friends, opportunities, But at the end of the day I had one thing I could hold onto still.

I was absolutely nothing special. I was a Faunus in a world of Faunus, an owl in a family of owls. I couldn’t find a date even with an application. I couldn’t get out unscathed from a mission that could aggressively be graded as B-ranking and I wasn’t even able to make myself stand properly anymore.

Therefore. I would not be the exception. I would be the normalcy and I would get to fly once more. There was nothing else that could be said on the topic.

I would fly.

"Get it done."

[HereComesTheSnow]

@Silvan Haven@Crimmy@Write

"With pleasure."

I stabbed down with the tack again, really digging it in the to get at that blood vessel for all I was worth. Presented with Gratia's impassive eyes and outstretched, bloodied palm, I pulled the tack free—

And before the wound closed, swiped my finger across the cut, feeling my own blood track against hers.

And the effects were nothing short of immediate. As if I had pulled a zipper shut, as if I had rewound time, the Gratia's hand knit itself closed in a manner I had seen so often on my own.

Gratia's hand healed.

I was right!

"Get it done." Bianca said, her voice brooking no dissent.

Well, far be it from me to not want to show off.

Uh, show off how good my bleeding is?

Just get on with it, me.

"You've got it."

I reached for a wing—

And realized my wound had closed.

These little pinpricks faded way too fast! It would take ages if I had to keep nicking myself!

As if sensing my distress, Gratia presented me with her cutlass, blade turned invitingly upwards.

"Ah, thanksssss!" I said, hissing in pain as I drew my palm along the edge. "That'll speed this up!"

I turned back to Bianca. "Ready?"

A solemn nod was my only response. It was now or never. I hadn't even stopped to consider if the injury being more established would change things, and by now, it was too late to.

I wiped my palm across a bare patch of her left wing, and waited.

At first, it looked like nothing was happening.

I scrutinized it harder, peering intently.

Come on...

Then there was a pin.

Transclucent, hard to see in the light I had against the mass of her wing—

Followed by another, then another, and then dozens of them.

My eyes widened.

The pins grew white, now fully distinct.

Then they became tufts.

Then they became down.

And then, some of them, amongst the others that had grown out less— were small feathers.

I didn't dare breathe.

Reaching my hand forward as if I were threading a needle, I took one of the largest that had grown, what would probably be a flight feather once it had fully recovered, and gave a soft tug.

"Hey... you feel that?"

It worked.

It worked!

[Write]

@Silvan Haven, @Crimmy, @HereComesTheSnow

Do I feel that?

Oh I feel it.

Maybe it was a little fuzzy at first. Perhaps I hadn’t acutely pinpointed where it was coming from. But I dared not move or say a thing.

No, not until Luke had spilled his blood on my second wing.

I immediately took the intravenous out of my wrist and pushed it away. Standing up I felt my legs grow unsteady once more, for a fifth time today. But with a mighty flap of my wings, I steadied myself. I stretched them, it felt as though they needed it. The feathers sprouting forth from my wings pushed the bandages from my glorious wings. I flapped them once more, sending small papers and hospital supplies off of desks, scattering many small things, like my doubts.

I turned to Luke, scrambling to raise my gown. Truly, I felt like a princess once more.

I embraced Luke, knowing that he alone gave me everything I had lost once more back. It wasn’t a hug I was going to let him get out of too easily. Besides if Gratia saw me crying again, god knows what she’d say. I didn't say anything to him. Even though I wanted to say everything it felt like any amount of words would only serve to highlight how much I really wanted to say. But even with that conclusion having been made as I silently sobbed into his jacket, feeling how tired he was from the mission he had just ran through I felt I owed him something.

"Thank you Luke. I owe you my life."

My wings were outstretched to their limits, all feeling to them restored, every glorious plume returned to me, scrubbed from Vitoria’s grasp.

I don’t need support, nor do I need more time. Now I was ready for my life to take action nonce more. It was now that I felt I could fully become myself again.

I let go of Luke and walked calmly over Gratia, putting a hand on her shoulder.

”You can rest now Gratia, I’m sorry to have used you for support as long as I did. Thank you.”

I was finally back. What outfit would I wear for my return party? So many potential choices.

So many that would complement my wings.

I finally walked over to Beryl and gave her a heartfelt hug. ”I’m finally back, thank you so much Beryl.”

With another flap of my wings and a flexing of my semblance I was once more levitating in the air as I had grown so comfortable doing over the years. I felt like it was my first day in VGNB once more. Flying through all of Beacon.

I was back. Bianca Nuit.

“The Phoenix of Beacon.” I said aloud, albeit in a cheeky voice.

I found my humour today too it seemed.

[Silvan Haven]

@HereComesTheSnow@Crimmy@Write

Beryl Harken

A small gasp escaped Beryl as she watched the torn and broken wings mend themselves before their eyes. It was a miracle, semblance or not. The work of years finished in an instant by a few splashes of blood.

Just like that Bianca was healed.

The otter Faunus could not help the half shocked, half ecstatic laugh that burst from her lips as Bianca quietly sobbed into Luke's shoulder. Her shoulders shaking slightly as the shear emotion of the moment swept through her now healthy form.

There was quiet for several seconds, allowing Beryl a moment to fully process what had just happened. Hearing Luke's theory was one thing, even after seeing it work on Gratia's self induced injury. Actually seeing it as scars were swept away, bruises vanished and feathers regrew was something else entirely.

It took her until Bianca moved away to hug Gratia before Beryl recovered. When she did so though, a huge smile covered her face and the Faunus all but shot towards Luke. She grabbed him in a full body hug and squeezed as she almost babbled like a brook.

"Ohhhhh, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

She only let go when she noticed Bianca leave Gratia and start walking towards her, at which point she released Luke and spun around to envelop the other Faunus with an equal amount of energy.

”I’m finally back, thank you so much Beryl.”

She pulled back at that, releasing Bianca and watching as she floated into the air. It was obvious that the restoration of her wings had healed far more than just her body. Bianca was going to be alright.

"Come on down 'Phoenix', I'm not done hugging you."

[Plank Sinatra]

I Put A Spell On You

Days ago.

"Summertime...
And the livin' is easy...
Fish are jumpin'...
And the cotton is high..."

Six fucking stars and the smell of bacon. It was the kind of combination first thing in the morning that made Solomon Speer check to see if he'd died and gone to Pepe, and over the years somehow its allure had never waned for him. It was like a great reaction image. You just felt it deep in the ol' loins. But as much as he'd love to sate some of the base needs all men grappled with first thing in the morning - if I reach the console now, I can shekel a few kids before they go to school for the day; wait fuark did I have any paperwork to do from last job?; aaaaaaaaaargh I gotta start pissing before I go to bed STAND CLEAAAAAAR - there was something he had to do.

It was six in the morning (he had to thank the boss for this based alarm clock sometime) and though he couldn't remember what day it was off-hand, he knew that it had to end with 'day.' And on a day that ended in 'day,' there was only one person who was up at six in the morning, cooking, and singing songs that would have made his grandma weak in the knees.

D-Daddy's here~

After trudging to the bathroom and postponing the local nor'easter season for another few precious weeks, Speer shambled out into the adjoined kitchenette and dining room of the flat shared by his group. As he suspected, there was already a young man staffing the kitchen, back turned to the hallway Solomon had emerged from. Solomon slipped onto one of the stools and plopped his elbows down on the counter without grace, hands cupping his strong jaw and scraping black stubble.

At least he could grow stubble. The grouchy, beautiful idiot before him probably thought something as manly as a weekend beard was a grooming touch to be scowled into submission, not admired.

Long, lean, and amber-skinned, the chef did look disarmingly groomed for the dawn hour - suspicious, considering the slept-in appearance of the black jeans that clung to his legs. Long, thick chestnut hair that should have been splayed wildly was pulled back was instead pulled down the nape of his neck, where it trailed off into blood red tips that fell along his left shoulder. His voice, smoky and deep the way that the singer on the Scroll's was smoky and deep, was so sharp it hurt Solomon's delicate slacker eyes. His squadmate sounded like he had been alert for hours, and his motions as he cooked looked as effortless as a duelist's.

The young man was nimbly switching between four different meals - one that apparently required a wide variety of mixed berries and pears, some bacon in the pan, some eggs currently being steamed underneath a closed lid, and what smelled like biscuits in the oven. Solomon's eyes drifted to the cook's left arm - first to the gauze wrapped tight around the bottom half of his upper arm, and then down to the long, ornate black glove that started at the elbow, where the gauze stopped, and ran all the way down to the fingertips.

Or, it would have.

Had the chef not been wearing an oven mitt over the palm of the glove.

"One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singing...
You're gonna spread your wings and you'll take to the sky...
But 'til that morning, there's a'nothin' can harm ya...
With Daddy and Mommy, Mommy standing by..."

Jericho Piper.

All the members of Team HJNS were members of Atlas Academy's elite Gold Stripes courses, but it was Jericho who embodied the Atlesian ideal of excellence best - a crack shot with a pistol and rifle, a skilled hand to hand combatant, and masterful actor, all traits expected of those who graduated from the country's elite Bastion Academy combat school.

He was also demanding, aloof, and had social skills that were donkey kicked in the head somewhere around age seven. Teachers described him as underachieving - dynamic-minded with a will to learn, yet unable or unwilling to raise his hand in class and call out answers until threat of discipline. His real friends could be counted on one amputated hand. And the blind dates he had been forced into by his teammates often led to legendary outcomes. Speer loved to tell the one about how he had both helped the lovelorn niece of their Armory instructor work up the courage to go on a blind date with Jer and managed to talk his teammate into attending the date. Jericho took the agreement to heart and showed up at the restaurant disguised as the busboy, who, of course, had no idea what could possibly have rendered the poor girl's dinner date a no-show. He kept the ruse up for an hour - and promptly dropped Armory the following weekend.

That's our Jer.

Solomon sighed theatrically to get his teammate's attention. Jericho didn't flinch, though whether that was because he was too deep in culinary reverie or had already heard his teammate approach was up to the reader's interpretation.

"Maybe if more women were like you when I woke up, I would go on more dates."

"I'm sure that's all that's stopping you," came the curt reply. "What is it, Speer? I'm cooking."

"I see that. Whassa matter, Jer? I'm only wishing you good morning. It's what human beings say to each other every day when we want them to have, y'know. Good mornings."

"Sounds exhausting," Piper deadpanned. "There is a tray on the coffee table in front of the console. Summer sausage, cheese and crackers. Meanwhile I am preparing bacon, eggs, buttered biscuits, and fruit salad. This will prove to be a scrumptious and nutritious breakfast, which is the primary building block for any good morning. And I didn't wish for a thing. You're welcome."

"Aaaah, do I smell bacon? It seems our fair Jericho is once again proving his worth at the rang--AAAARGH!" The sound of two dull thuds rang out from along a hallway, followed by a muffled curse and an order: "Briiiiight! His Grace demands a royal retainer at once..."

Jericho's shoulders rose and fell once in a soft sigh, and Solomon looked from the sound of the noises to the chef quizzically.

"So what's the deal with Rich?" Speer asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the ruckus. "He didn't sound all Bobby Baratheon when we graduated from Bastion..."

"Our noble leader," Jericho said with a trace of irony, "went on a job with me this summer to Medieval Times. My sister put the idiot idea in his head that he would be a great King of Atlas one day. It looks like he took it to heart. He's been calling me serving wench and riding around that idiot recliner like a throne since we got back. So I thought I would remind Rich of his own mortality a little. I've been loosening a floorboard in his part of the loft once every couple of days. It seems like he finally noticed."
...

"M y s i d e s," Solomon Speer wheezed in an awed whisper, trying to keep in his guffaws. "Who else knows?"

"Only the people in this kitchen. So many rulers have fallen victim to paranoia that I saw no need to burden His Grace with rumors of treason in the court." Jericho turned to face his teammate for the first time. His face was as bronzed and still as a death mask, but there was a rare crinkle of amusement around one golden eye. "Now quit cackling and take an egg or two. I'll grab the biscuits."

"Morning, Jer. Sup, Speer." The final member of HJNS, Noah Bright, sat down at the counter beside Solomon and slid a piece of paper onto the counter between them. "Rich is gonna be in the bathroom getting an ice pack ready. He says this is for you, Jer. It's a royal decree, he says." The blue-haired Hunter in training rolled his eyes, almost as though he'd heard the conspiratorial mutterings about his team leader's royalty fetish.

"Wait, is that my math homewo--"

"It's blank aside from Rich's writing, so yes. Probably." The paper fluttered up into the air as Jericho snatched it up, tray of biscuits still in his left hand. The young Atlesian held the tray out of Solomon's reach as the shitposter violently tried to snatch at it, eyes reading the first line on the paper a few times without emotion. "A solo mission?"

He looked up; Solomon looked nonplussed and Bright just looked bored.

"We've never been on a solo mission," Jericho continued. "None of us." Neither teammate had a reply for him, so Jericho shrugged and dropped the paper onto the counter again.

"I'll get breakfast finished and then go see the General for further instructions, then," he said idly, setting down the tray of biscuits and watching his two teammates divide half of them between themselves in no time flat. "Make sure our instructors know that I'm headed out for a week or two. Save a copy of all worksheets for me and they'll be completed when I return."

"Sure thing, buddy," Solomon said, mouth full of food and a thumbs up raised as compliments to the chef. "We'll get right on that."

"We'll be sure to pack you a can of oil so you don't freeze up around people without us, too," Bright added lazily. "And some swim trunks."

Jericho, busy withdrawing his oven mitt from his left hand and staring at the ebony glove it was wrapped in, looked up sharply. Solomon's gaze, still marred by a biscuit hanging from the mouth, drifted to Noah, then the the paper. He pulled the degree over hastily and read.

"What do you mean, swim trunks?"

No one was in much of a hurry to answer Jericho. Bright's dry smile was unreadable. Solomon Speer was reading over the paper as though it was a message from God on high. His bright blue eyes had grown as round and wide as saucers, and giggles were squeaking from the back of his throat.

"They're sending you? Here?" the shitposter asked with glee. "You're fucked!"

"So fucked," Noah Bright said nonchalantly. "Enjoy yourself for us, Jer. Hope it doesn't kill you."

Clearly impatient, Jericho snatched the paper away from the helplessly-sniggering Speer and read it again. This time, his eyes reached all the way down to the bottom of the page.

...

The Atlesian super-spy paled faintly.

---

@Write @HereComesTheSnow @Silvan Haven @Crimmy

"You. Schwarz."

The voice came from a tanned Mistralian girl, wearing tattered black skinny jeans that revealed two enormous pistol tattoos on her hips and thighs and sporting an accent closer to Bianca's than Gratia's. She approached the group with brisk, purposeful strides, seemingly apathetic towards the sentimental moment she was interrupting. She seemed to recognize the majority of the people there, however; cool hazel eyes roamed over the different members of Team Vignoble, past and present, and seemingly stopped somewhere over Gratia's shoulder - as if she was tracing the outline of a person that should be there and was conspicuously absent.

A full mouth tightened in faint displeasure before Vivianne Laurent returned to her errand. She withdrew a slim white envelope from her waistband before extending it out to the Hunter, as if expecting himself to wrench free from the pile of embraces he was wrapped in to grab it from her.

"This is for you. Courtesy of Team Vivacious."

[HereComesTheSnow]

@Silvan Haven@Crimmy@Write

Girls are the strangest creatures. Nowhere else would you feel so content with getting mobbed, piled upon, and squeezed to half death than their embraces.

Fortunately, I'm a man of uncanny experience in these situations, so I knew how to survive a two-pronged deathclutch surprise attack. I have two younger sisters. I would be dust in the wind if I couldn't.

Granted, sisters could only do so much for preparing you for getting hugged by cute girls your own age. They were an entirely different swamping of the senses. Noticing softness, nice smells, warmth, that weird thing they did where your stomach felt colonized by butterflies...

No, Dawn using me as a piggyback ride and April hitting a suplex on me did not compare. Only in terms of surprise and disruption of balance was there a comparison, so I only knew how to survive, you know?

I didn't mind surviving hugs like these.

No, if I'll be honest, it was actually really nice. A good reward for a job well done...

And a staunch reminder of the exhaustion I'd been fighting off. Even as Bianca had clung to me, I felt the tension that had been keeping me focused in during the process of helping her wings recover fade, fade away, everything going slack once the job was finally done and I had managed a small return by patting her on the back. Once Beryl entered the picture, I was little more than a ragdoll in her arms.

That's a strong woman, you know. Her hugs are not things you could fight against if you were ever stupid enough to want to.

"You. Schwarz."

Our festivities, which at this point consisted of me shaking myself loose and Beryl poised to pounce upon Bianca with Gratia quietly watching, were brought to a halt as an unfamiliar person approached.

Well, unfamiliar to me, anyway. She regarded everyone else with some degree of recognition, and that accent sounded like Bianca's...

She was definitely a Huntress of sorts, if those massive guns on her hips were anything to go by.

"This is for you. Courtesy of Team Vivacious."

"Vivacious..." I repeated under my breath as I accepted the envelope, running through a list of team names under my head and finding no match. Maybe she was from Haven, as everyone else here aside from myself was?

"Uh, thank you." I said after a moment's scrutiny, inclining my head with as much politeness as my tired body could muster. For her part, her cool hazel gaze hadn't seemed to care one way or another that I was getting ragdolled around before this point, and she regarded me with a similar impassivity that I was privileged enough to receive from Gratia.

"What is this?" I asked, flipping the envelope over to discover that, yes, it was perfectly normal.

After the kind of ride the rest of today had been, surprise delivery included, I wouldn't rule out anything.

I could tell I was gonna pass out tonight.

[Crimmy]

Gratia Mindaro - Infirmary

It worked.

Her onyx eyes gazed down upon the healing cut on her palm, rapidly disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place. The wound, so freshly inflicted, was gone, the only evidence that it had ever been present being the drying blood littering the surface of her pale hand. One hundred percent certainty of success. Luke Schwarz had delivered upon his claims. His semblance had worked satisfactorily on her.

Would it work on Nuit?

The sound of fluttering feathers answered her question. Gratia Mindaro stared at the rejuvenated form of her teammate, taking in every detail of the image before her. Powerful wings spreading outwards, each hesitant flap a sign of their renewed strength. The plumage, no longer tattered with wounds, was now as white as fresh snow, exuding an angelic grace that could take one's breath away. Bianca's radiant smile, filling the room with the very light of the sun itself.

It was beautiful.

A delicate hand placed itself upon her shoulder. The Mistralese girl glanced down at it.

"You can rest now Gratia, I’m sorry to have used you for support as long as I did. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The flat tone of her voice was unchanged, but there was something lighter to the short phrase. Yet what that something was, nobody could tell, for she had fallen silent once more, impassively gazing upon the sight of her friend assaulting Schwarz with a hug. A hug that was soon joined by Harken. As if the young man was their personal ragdoll. They were clearly grateful, enough to ignore the fact that they were in a public infirmary, being watched by likely everyone else.

Such as the tan Mistralian who was approaching. Gratia watched the girl's face, her gaze meeting those hazel eyes for the barest of a second. There was a familiarity to the other woman. Someone from Haven, then. Vivacious was in all likelihood one of the other teams.

Yet their business was not one that concerned her.

"Take care with your shit, Schwarz," she said, turning away from the group. "Feel free to eat the crappy pizza the catboy ordered."

With one last glance in Bianca's direction, the Mistralese girl began to walk away.

[Write]

@Silvan Haven, @Crimmy, @HereComesTheSnow

I watched a tanned woman with an accent straight out of Mistral’s pearly gates walk up to Luke handing him what looked to be some kind of paper.

I won’t lie, especially since getting this new start. I was a little jealous. But all in all how mad could one really be? Luke got what I can only assume to be a great reward for an excellent job well done. I was too happy to give a damn at the moment and honestly, it felt great.

Another powerful flap of my wings and I was once again levitating, the muscle memory coming back to me of flapping every once in a while and using my semblance to repel me from the ground. It took some doing but all in all I was pretty sure of myself. I couldn’t wait to show everyone my new wings, they may have even trumped my old ones.

As it turns out Luke wasn’t only a magical healing machine, his blood did what nearly ten talented handmaiden’s could do for my feathers. God did that ever pay off. I made a mental note to take a picture on my scroll of my wings for later. I wanted to remember this moment for the rest of my life.

I couldn’t help myself after all though. I found my eyes wandering over to Luke’s hand. A fancy white envelope.

I looked around the room. Four people. If I had to, I could make a run for the envelope and escape.

huh.

I never realized how terrible of a person I was, or at least how I sounded. See, it's just that I'm a very curious girl.

I suppose that’s just one of life’s funny coincidences really. Just a way to poke you on the forehead and say ‘hey, look at that fancy envelope. You know, I think I know some girl who just got her wings back, and I know just how into fancy envelopes she is. That sure is funny, huh?’

Yes life. It is funny. But I wasn’t nearly uneducated enough to straight up ask about the enevelope. God no. I had more tact than that.

“Wow, fancy envelope. What's inside?”

…

I got lost in the moment of my wings that’s all!

[Plank Sinatra]

I Put A Spell On You

Vivianne's glance shifted from Luke to the feathered show-off, then back again; it was clear she was accustomed to multiple people jumping upon him for answers, but she also didn't seem to be a very big fan of the exuberance on display.

"Cruise tickets," she stated matter-of-factly. "My team received them as a reward for clearing the coast of Grimm today. The ACS Sleipnir leaves tomorrow at 8:00 AM for Southern Mistral. As the majority of my girls own private yachts to begin with, the four of us are capable of going out on the water whenever we wish, and we have no need of adding even more annoying passengers to the mix. However, there were those among us who found the idea of scalping a mission reward like drunken sports fans...distasteful. So Pressman volunteered you to receive the tickets, free of charge. Be sure to thank her. Or avoid her. Either is an understandable reaction."

[HereComesTheSnow]

@Silvan Haven@Crimmy@Write@Plank Sinatra

A million questions ran through my mind.

Why did this 'Pressman' person elect me of all people to receive tickets as an anonymous gesture of goodwill?

How did she even know who I was?

What was I gonna pack for the trip?

None of them came to the fore, as I opened it up and found that there were indeed a quartet of tickets within the envelope.

"Uh, thank you, then."

I mean, at the crack of dawn tomorrow or not, I wasn't turning down a luxury cruise. Hell, I would even say I deserved a getaway like this after that mission I'd just endured. After today, where everything came in at the eleventh hour and fifty-eighth minute.

Still, though, that did leave three other open tickets...

"Did she have any ideas as to who should get these besides me?"

My team?

My family?

Whomever was lucky enough to be in the same room as me at the time?

If the ship left at eight in the morning tomorrow, I didn't have much time to delegate that out on my own...

[Write]

@Silvan Haven, @Crimmy, @HereComesTheSnow

I silently peered over Luke’s shoulder, lightly levitating in order to get the best possible vantage point.

“Oh wow.” I blurted out uncontrollably.

Control yourself Bianca. You need to be tact.

“Those are for tomorrow huh? That’s gonna be, well it’s gonna be tough to find people who were aready booked and then had to abandon all of their plans due to some life-changing event this short notice. And her two friends. That’s a tough group of people to pin down.”

…

Don’t judge me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I catch Gratia on her walk away.

Oh no you don’t.

“Gratia!” I say as I manage to catch up to her strolling pace rather easily. “Hey, so, there might be tickets to a cruise on the table, and they’re free. Would you maybe wanna go with me? And Luke, and Beryl?”

I want to tell you that I didn’t put my puppy dog eyes on. Because, come on, puppy dog eyes don’t just work on Gratia. But, well….

As I stared up at her, my eyes growing wider by the second I caught that same glimpse of Gratia that I was looking for in the first place. Now to reel her in.

“Come on Gratia, what do we say to free things?”

[Eklispe]

@Ryonara@SevenStormStyle@harinezumikouken@Lugubrious

Krysthane turned at yet another arrival. Oh, it was Abel. He looked nice with his freshly combed hair. Meanwhile her mane of hair felt rather, rumpled. "Uh, not really. Or if you are everybody else seems to be doing it as well so that's alright." she said with a hint of humor through a half-veiled sigh. She was about to continue when Sepia addressed her crowding attendants and Krysthane stepped forward in surprise. She'd been shot?! Well freaking wonder she wasn't okay. When had that happened? It must've been after they'd split up. What kind of team leader didn't know when a teammates had gotten shot!? Shiro seemed just as concerned as she was, no, even more so. Krysthane was still trying to figure out what to say when Sepia gave her a glance and some surprisingly comforting words. The maid appeared to be extremely concerned for Sepia, understandably so, and something of a nurse as well. And her name was Yue. "Okay." Krsythane said decisively, putting her hands out as if to pause everyone.

"Sepia you need to either let Yue fix you up some or go to Beacon and get patched up." She then turned to Skyra "Pizza and fun yes. Drinking we can talk about later." Moving right along she addressed Abel and Shiro next, "As for you two, our mission was kind of a downer for a few reasons and we plan on eating pizza and having fun. You are welcome to come along." Krysthane looked satisfied for a moment, then quickly turned into the face of someone who knew they'd forgotten something "Ah and Yue! If you wanna come too you can. If Sepia decides she wants to keep going we'll need someone around to make sure she doesn't die or anything." Krysthane gave a confident grin at that, that should be everything. It'd be nice to go out and have some fun, especially with some other students.

[Crimmy]

Gratia Mindaro - Infirmary

Given the economic background she stemmed from, Gratia Mindaro had never partaken in a cruise trip. They were typically the domain of the middle class hordes that sought to waste their disposable incomes in some manner, or the wealthy social elites seeking to fraternise with their peers for greater influence and power. As she was a member of neither aggregation of simpering fools, the concept was of utterly no interest to her.

She simply could not care less for the ambitions of her inferiors.

The Mistralese girl's onyx eyes met Bianca's, her gaze impassive even in the face of her compatriot's begging expression. It was no surprise that the owl Faunus would so eagerly leap at the opportunity to participate in the cruise. After her ordeal in captivity, such an event would represent a form of entertainment, and a method of adjusting to a life of normalcy once more. A luxury trip on the ocean lined up well with the aristocrat's interests.

A silence fell over them. Gratia refused to look away from the other girl, the flat intensity of her dark orbs staring down Bianca with little reaction. The tickets were free gifts, but there was little else that truly appealed to her. However, the fact was that the Faunus was excited for the trip; whether or not her compatriot could avoid another troublesome situation was unknown.

"Fine, somebody needs to keep an eye on you until you get your shit together," said the teenaged Huntress, tone still as flat and unchanging as one would expect. "All the better that it's free, because I refuse to waste any money on serving as a goddamned babysitter."

It would be a disgusting failure if their mission objective had been lost due to a lack of supervision.

[Suku]

Cian sighed as she layed on her bed staring at the ceiling above her. The mission while classified as a "Great success" it was far from that in her eyes she saw just how limited she was. Byakko was a multi variable purpose gun having three unique forms to match situations a sniper, machine gun, and a rifle. Each form had its use and the addition of dust just added to her variety.

"Where where do I need to improve?" Cian said aloud as she held her hand blocking out the light. Everything seemed so simple her weapon was a work of art in her not so humble opinion. "How do you expand upon something that seems to work just fine" She once again muttered out loud. "The fault is never with the weapon but the user." She muttered once more those words was often said to her by her brother when she was young.

These thoughts swirled inside her head becoming a jumbled mess pretty quickly it was all so confusing for her though she was glad to be on safe ground she was still confused there was just so much that was occurring she didn't know where to even begin.

[Lugubrious]

Abel Fulgarate

Frozen in his premeditated position, Abel gave a ready ear to the injured faunus girl as she spoke up. Very quickly, she made it apparent that not only was she afflicted by a serious wound, but it was also nothing short of a bullet still inside her. The guardian's muscles on the back of his neck twinged in sympathetic concern, and he bore a face to match. All the same, he remained still and silent. Considering his lack of relevance to the matter at hand, which by now prickled him constantly, he opted to wait until called on. He turned his head as Krysanthe began to speak, giving a little nod of his head in gratitude. Nearby, a slender girl in a maid uniform that Abel did not at all recognize seemed to be provided assistance. He found himself puzzled by her pointed ears, wondering if they were simply oddly shaped or the mark of a faunus, but either way he was grateful for her aid.

Another girl who soonafter called attention to herself, however, drew far less of Abel's appreciation. Out of nowhere, a cat faunus whom Abel had previously seen with KESS, and was thusly almost certainly a member of that team, appeared and demanded to get drunk. A stern look took over the guardian's features. Did Skyra really not have any help to give her grievously hurt teammate, and did she really think that her selfish attempt to redirect her team came at a good time? As much as this rankled Abel, he did not speak up. Her teammates knew her better than he; it would be up to them to rebuke her for this insulting lack of consideration.

Breaking away from these thoughts, Abel rejoined the main conversation midway through a response by the maid. Immediately he refocused himself on listening once again. He'd never demonstrated any affinity for first-aid or medicine in general, but if some pertinent information could lodge itself in his thick head, he thought, it might turn out to be useful. The maid's manner seemed befitting of Beacon staff: professional and bearing the weight of authority without seeming overdone. It surprised him, then, when she introduced herself as not just a new arrival to the school but a huntress in training to boot. With her introduction completed, he felt it inappropriate to be the first one to respond considering his position as a relative outsider to KESS's newfound crisis, and so waited for others to respond first. In the silence that followed, he suddenly became aware of Shiro's ongoing discourse. Actually...how long has he been talking and gesticulating like that? He lent an ear to his friend's shpeal, realizing that he was talking about Sepia and the general situation surrounding her, but he found it difficult to follow his rapid, animated delivery. Instead, he set to wondering. Have I gotten used to his babbling after only two weeks? I can't just let myself tune him out like this. It's unfair. Unfortunately, with Shiro caught in his reverie, Abel decided that he'd have to do just that as he shifted into the role of representing team SASG.

“That would be great. Thank you!” he replied to Krysanthe's invitation. He'd held out hope that he might get to hang out with her again, and with opportunity realized, he couldn't help but feel light-hearted. Of course, he didn't want to seem too eager. The health and safety of the girl named Sepia came first. Krysanthe's mind seemed to switch gears as well, and she turned with an expression of remembrance to Yue, inviting her along as well. Just like that, everything seemed to fall into place. The exuberant look on the blonde girl's face captured Abel's attention, preventing him from looking away until he realized he was perilously close to staring. Fixating on the sunlit sky, just beginning to turn as though the heavens had been splashed with a free-spirited painter's rosy hues, he hummed a verse from one of Pallisade's live-performed songs. An airship breezed into view, slowing down until it hovered just above the docks, then landed with mechanical efficiency. The students' ride into Vale had arrived.

[Guess Who]

Team RGTS finishes the fight

Traversing through the fort's vents was an uncomfortable, tense business, the small opening forcing Robert and Sand into a constant croching shuffle to move forward. Occasionally Sand's Scroll would shine a light into branching passages, which the pair chose on with little more than gut feelings and intuition, and occasionally they found openings above them, where the vents led to upper floors. The latter were universally ignored with the unspoken agreement that complicating their navigation further did not warrant the effort of climbing up those holes.

Once they came upon an exit back into the hallways, only for the pair to quickly realize they had come out into one of the blocked off passageways they had already explored. Back into the vents they went.

After what felt like an eternity of silence punctuated solely by the sound of dragging boots and grunts of effort, a new noise reached their ears. The pair froze, listening intently. They idea to use the air vents had come to them after seeing a Creep ambush Sand from one of them, so the fear of running into more of the monsters was fresh and present in both of their minds. Something like growling did reach their ears, but it was followed by a different, rapping noise.

"Is that gunfire?" Sand whispered from behind Robert.

Robert stayed silent as he listened intently to the noise the pair were hearing. "Yeah. Yeah, I believe so," he said. "And where there's gunfire, there's people. Since I doubt anyone else would be insane enough to come here, my money's on that being Trad and Grane. Let's go." With a new clue to the rest of his team's whereabouts, all thoughts of pain and uncomfortableness from being inside the vents seemed to disappear as the hunter-in-training crawled as fast as he could towards the sound of fighting.

Arriving at where the fighting sounded the thickest, the young teen began to squirm and struggle as he moved to get his legs in front of him instead of underneath him. With all his strength, Robert began to furiously kick at the grate that stood between the four and their reunion. Once she caught up, Sand pushed past him and leaned into the obstacle. There was a sudden spark of light, and the grate flew off to the opposite end of the room. With the sudden absence of support, Sand fell out on to the hallway, catching herself on her arms and knees.

Robert followed, bringing the last hunter into the room. "Hey guys, sorry we took so long," the boy said as he pushed himself out of the vent and onto his own two feet again. It felt good to no longer be crammed into such a small space. Seeing his teammates struggling against the hordes of Grimm, the disputed-leader ran over to the machinegun and grabbed it by its grips with his thumb hovering over the trigger. "Sand! You mind being on support?" Robert asked, referring to her feeding whatever ammunition was available into the turret.

The huntress let out a puff of air from her mouth. "On it," she answered, picking herself up and getting into position.

“Holy hell, ROBERT?” Trad was overwhelmed with a mix of surprise and relief as he saw the two hunters miraculously emerge from the same vents producing the creeps. Truth be told he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure he and Grane could have made the charge to the turret. But now that their leader and new ally Sand, whose name Trad just picked up from Robert talking to her, had joined the party, things were starting to look up.

With Robert ready on the big gun, Trad saw an opportunity to turn the tides. Slamming his shield down next to the robot blocking it from the Grimm his shield mounts once more drove themselves into the ground and held strong. Holding their ground and using the combined fire of the turret and any ranged weapons they had, the hunters could create a bullet hell where the only escape for the Grimm was back the other way. Invigorated by the turn of events, the hunter called to his companions, “Let’s send these creatures back to whatever dark hole spawned them!”

"Yeah... Robert." While Grane was glad they finally got some help, he had secretly hoped Robert had perished in the fighting. Though he supposed that would have been a bit too easy, even for his liking. At least he could chew him out later when they got out of this mess.

With Robert manning the machinegun and the creeps caught in the middle, what once looked like the creeps about to overrun the hunters became a meatgrinder. None of the creeps had any means to dodge or endure the hail of gunfire, and Trad's shield was too much for even a small group to handle, not to mention that any creep that was smart enough to try to find a way around the shield or gun got cut down by Sand and Grane. The elder Creep, sensing imminent defeat, retreated to save its own hide.

By the time Robert's machine gun jammed it was out of bullets and enemies. Black smears where the creeps once stood were all that was left of the Grimm.

Even after the bullets had stopped flying and the enemies retreated, Robert continued to pull the trigger on the turret a couple more times before finally letting go. "It feels like my arms are still shaking," he mumbled to himself before looking at his teammates. "Hey guys, long time no see."

At this point the robot managed to stand to his feet and had the wisdom to stay in place until all the threats were dealt with. When he figured they were he spoke up in a chipper tone that ignored the near-death situation it was just in. "Excellent work! I am certain that at this rate we will have the fortress in functional shape post-haste. If you will allow me, I will now continue to guide you to the generator room."

Sand glanced at each end of the hallway. "May as well save reunions for later. This place feels too exposed."

With the group in tow, the robot began to walk towards the generator room at painfully slow speeds. But he eventually arrived there, and it was obvious from the damage at the door alone that the generator room was hit hard. Inside showed the remains of a harsh battle fought; skeletons scattered around the room, weapons in various states of broken laid on the ground or impaled through the walls. The generators themselves were smashed and slashed, and the computer console was torn out. Activating the original generators were out of the question. But that being said, there was still a port where the portable generator could be plugged in, which should be enough power to activate Fort Jeager's communication radio.

Additionally, there was one heavy locked door that had many marks on it, yet unlike the entrance it was still standing. There was a keypad next to the door with the numbers "4770" scratched into the wall next to the keypad. But without any power the keypad wouldn't activate.

It was not a pretty sight. The scene of death and destruction negated any sense of security Trad though this room would hold. It seemed the only thing that would guarantee any safety was getting those radios up and getting out of here. However, seeing no immediate danger, Trad decided they could spare a few minutes now to celebrate their reunion. Once everyone had walked through the door, Sand quickly moving past them at the sight of the ravaged terminals, Trad gave Robert a strong pat on the back. “It’s good to see you again. I’ll be honest I was starting to think the Grimm had had you for lunch.”

Robert smiled back at Trad before replying, "Well if not for Sand here, I probably would have. Thanks to my, admittedly poor, skills at planning ahead I ended up getting myself completely surrounded while trying to climb a tree to safety. Probably didn't help that my stomach was still bleeding." The boy lifted his shirt slightly to show where the Beowolf he had fought earlier in the mission had scratched him. The cut appeared to have closed on its own but was caked with dried blood. "Anyway, then she showed up and pulled my butt out of the fire."

"Yeah, well, failing to plan ahead seems to be a common problem with you. I'm sure Delta learned that lesson pretty damn fast." Wasn't the first time Grane saw someone die, but Delta died too abruptly for his tastes, a death easily preventable by his standards. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and it was barely his first day with the team. "I suppose I should thank Sand. Personally, I wouldn't have gone back to save some dead weight, I'll give her that." Grane took a closer look at the generators, which were FUBAR. Luckily they had a backup generator, which Trad still had on him.

Sand, who was studiously ignoring the unfolding drama as she stood by the generators' console, seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "There's an auxiliary power port over there," she supplied. "You were tasked with getting this place running, right?"

Trad was clearly displeased with the way his teammate was acting. While Robert’s decisions up to this point had been questionable, this was something to discuss once they were out of danger. Not only that, Trad didn’t believe the loss of Delta was Robert’s fault, at least not entirely. Regardless Sand had the right idea avoiding the subject for now and getting to work while they still had time without Grimm. He made his way to the auxiliary port Sand pointed out and set the battery down next to it. “Technically we were tasked with ridding the place of Grimm so the fort could be reestablished.” Trad answered Sand’s question while plugging in the battery and mulling over the instructions to make sure he didn’t make any mistakes with their only power source. "Though I dont exactly see how we're going to do that with everything in its current condition."

Robert hadn't forgotten what had happened to Delta, in fact he had been trying to reach a state of acceptance over what happened to him and even his old team that had gone missing not that long ago. With Grane's spite-filled comment though, the teen's mood soon turned gloomy, though at least not like before. Walking off to the corner of the room, he remained silent as everyone else talked with his eyes fixed on the ground beneath his feet.

Sand glanced at him, lips twisted into a worried grimace. She had seen well enough how Robert was given to blaming himself for the misfortune of those around him, enough to make her wonder if anything this Grane character could tell him was not something he had already told himself. But there was a difference between thinking something and hearing it echoed back at you. She had known there was some enmity between the two since her original encounter with Robert's teammates back at the forest, but had hoped they would not clash the moment they were reunited. That had been naive of her, she now realized. A friend's death could not be smoothed over so easily, yet she feared dwelling over it would bring them problems in the long-term.

"Take it by steps, I imagine." Sand shrugged wearily, both in respect to her thoughts and to Trad's remark. "You already infiltrated the fort. With luck, if the Grimm did not destroy the place's wiring along with the generators, connecting that thing should give us some options. You were planning on radioing in support? Then the next step is finding a working comm-station."

"Yeah... it would be the most logical step." Fortunately the grimm seemed to have pulled back, at least for the moment, so they could take a breather. While he was less than happy to see Robert back, he at least brought someone competent with him. Though he wasn't too sure why Sand stepped in to help Rob. "Sand, is it? Not to sound... suspicious or anything, but I am a bit curious why you would step in to help a few people you've never met before. You've obviously put yourself willingly in harm's way, no one asked you to help out. So why?"

"I was surveying the place when I noticed the Grimm acting strange. It crossed my mind that some hikers may have found trouble." She sighed, eyes drooping slightly. "Couldn't very well call myself a Huntress if I just left it alone."

"A Huntress? Strange. I don't recall anything in the briefing about you. What school are you from?" Grane guessed she wasn't from Beacon. Otherwise the briefing would have mentioned there were hunters in the area that could assist them, or at least that's how Grane thought the school would operate.

She cocked a curious eyebrow at him. "Do I look too green to be independent?"

Grane merely shrugged. Being an independent didn't mean she was a newbie at all. "Well, I just assumed you were from a school. Rather, you look a bit young, really. And being in a Huntsman academy isn't always an indicator of skill."

"Young, huh..." She crossed her arms before her with a dissatisfied frown. "Atlas Academy," she admitted, but before they could inquire as to her team, she added, "But I came alone. I somehow doubt we'll get lucky enough to come across other hunters while we're here." Her gaze strayed to the bones and rusted weapons strewn about the room, and she grimaced. "Living ones, that is."

“Alone?” Trad interjected into the conversation as Sand’s remark came as a surprise. “I wasn't aware Atlas sent out one man teams. Or are they not aware of it either?”

Before Sand could reply, Trad figured he was ready to get the power going. He said a silent prayer as he flipped the power switch and pulled the ignition cord. The battery roared to life sending power to the fort. After a brief moment of doubt, their success was confirmed by the emergency lights flashing on from the corners of the ceiling, bathing them in a dull, reddish hue.

Trad jumped up with a clap when he saw the pay off. “Looks like we're live, though I don't know how long we have the power for so we need to find the comm station and fast.”

As he stood up, Sand flashed him a small smile that fell just short of wry and into self-conscious territory. She rose a gauntleted hand in a halting gesture. "They may not be aware it is a solo team. I had my reasons, even if I've been regretting it since setting foot in this place. Which is why, now that everyone is in the same room," she said, glancing at the sullen Robert off the corner of her eye, "I'd like to properly ask for help."

It was at that moment Robert finally snapped out of his depressed stupor. He hadn't been listening much to the conversation around him, but he had heard the word "help" which seemed to bring on the boy's sense of altruism and magnanimity. "Well you've got it Sand. At least from me, I don't want to speak for everyone here unless they feel the same. We Hunters have to stick together though if we're to make it out of this." As the last sentence left his mouth, Robert looked over in Grane's direction, realizing that such a statement would probably illicit a comment from the boy.

Sand knitted her eyebrows at the inconclusive response, but held back any remarks as she turned expectantly towards the other two.

Trad nodded at Robert, "I couldn't agree more. Besides, you already saved one of us, and whether we like that or not—" He looked at Grane during that part, but quickly snapped his gaze back to Sand, "—We owe you for it." He held out his hand to her and finished, "Whatever you need, I'll be more than willing to assist you."

As she took the proferred hand, Grane spoke. "Suppose we should get moving then. I'll see if I can't find a path to the comm station." Grane wasn't very interested in clashing with his teammates over his reservations when the group was still in an active warzone of sorts.

Sand nodded at the implicit acceptance. Relief showed in her face, but it was tinged by a hint of skepticism. Neither had asked about her objective, but she supposed there were more immediate concerns. Robert was aware of the basics of her circumstances, in any case, and being in a group ensured a modicum of safety she would not have enjoyed on her own. Choosing to move on to the more pressing topic as well, she glanced at the machine that had opened the way into the generator room.

"That robot knew the way to this room, didn't it? We might be able to use it as a guide, though the busted leg might complicate things." A surprisingly articulate robot, too, she recalled from its words after their encounter with the Creeps. It could use some testing. She moved from the wall and into the machine's line of sight. She balked for a moment, as though the proper way to address the robot escaped her, before stiffly gesturing to the keycard door and asking, "What is beyond that door?"

The robot, who had been quiet this entire time, chimed up. "That is the entrance to the Fortress's Subterranean Hangar Bay. Prior to the Grimm invasion, the fortress serviced and held many types of vehicles and crafts. There are other entrances, however this one is the quickest and also leads to an exclusive hangar bay. Unfortunately, I do not have further information on what was put into the exclusive hangar bay, only that my scans show that it has not been touched, even after the Grimm took over the fortress."

Sand's eyes focused on the door, a pensive expression falling over her features. The machine continued unabated. "Currently, there is not enough power in the facility to activate the keypad. I would not advise destorying the door as I am certain that failsafes have been put into place to prevent forced entry, even after the shutdown of power." The robot tried to project a hologram from its only eye, but the blinking light was a good indication that was not going to happen.

Instead, the robot grabbed a piece of rock and, with good detail, drew a map of the fortress on a wall. It seemed to have accepted doing some vandalism for the sake of expedience. No sooner had the robot moved away from the building plans that Sand's Scroll found its way to her hand and let out a sound like closing shutters. A serviceable map would go a long way towards making the structure navigable for the hunters.

"There are four solar panels around the fortress which could provide power to the fortress within two days, if all panels are activated within the same day. The generator you brought is unfortunately not enough to keep the station fully operational, and can only power a limited amount of equipment. Based on my readings, all four solar panels are still servicable, however I am uncertain if they have any Grimm inadvertently safeguarding or roosting near them."

Turning towards the hunters the robot had one more thing to say. "Lastly, and I do not wish to cause alarm, but I have noticed a large amount of seismic reading from the ocean as of late. While I am aware that I have only been recently reactivated, it is unusual for me to detect these readings during these conditions."

Sand hummed, filing that last bit of information for later. As things stood, it seemed completely unrelated to their current dillemma. "Will the communication equipment work without the solar panels?"

The robot turned to the generator and scanned it, then turned back to sand. "Yes. Currently, the generator is producing enough energy to power the communication relay for approximately four days."

"Plenty of time for reinforcements to arrive then," Robert said triumphantly. "Let's make that our primary objective so we can start the metaphorical countdown clock to when we get support. We should have loads of time to complete all other assignments like investigating that hangar before they arrive."

"Agreed," Sand said as she slipped her Scroll back into her pocket. "What do we do with the robot?"

Robert looked at the robot with intense consideration for a few moments before kneeling down in front of it to stare into its malfunctioning eye. "I don't think he'll be fast enough to keep up with us and he looks pretty darn heavy," he began to say before being interrupted by a sudden cough. The young hunter-in-training cleared his throat than began to speak again. "Do you think you can find someplace to hide until we get back?" he asked it directly.

"I have been programmed with information that I can utilize to hide from the Grimm. So long as I go into a low power state and do not directly engage with any Grimm that my cross my path they will not attack me. I was previously damaged due to collateral damage, rather than any Grimm attack." Moving over to the map, the robot also took the time to etch names of each room he'd written out. He also marked certain passageways he deemed "Destroyed" with a large X. With an expression of mild irritation, Sand pulled out her Scroll again to record the changes.

When he finished, the robot moved to a corner of the room and sat down, powering down into a sleeping state. Of course, he could still talk and observe, but most of his higher functions (Mostly anything that required moving) was going to take a little bit of time to start up. "I will remain here. If you have any questions of me I shall do my best to assist you. Good hunting, young heroes."

Following the lead of their new ally, Trad pulled out his own Scroll and snapped a picture of the map for himself. While he hoped they would only need the one, it would be best to be prepared incase they were separated once more. “Well, I’m ready whenever.” Trad affirmed to the team after glancing over the map once more before replacing it into his pocket. “Shall we go now or do we still need a moment?” Though he spoke to the room, the last part was directed at Robert who had just recovered from a sudden cough.

Robert raised his hand in a thumbs up to Trad before replying, "Yeah, I think we're good here." Walking over to the exit, he held open the door for everyone else so that they could leave when they were ready as well.

"I'll navigate," Sand said as she moved towards the door, Scroll still in her hand, pausing only to take a quick glance outside of the room. When no monsters raring to bite her head off made their presence known, she continued, "I want you three to keep an eye out for Grimm while I handle the map."

"Sure sure." Grane walked out next, carefully peeking his head out the hallway. Yes, Sand had checked it beforehand, but it didn't hurt to check twice. "Well, I suppose we should get moving now. Who knows what we woke up with all of that ruckus before." Grane was pretty sure most, if not all of the Grimm in the base knew there were intruders in their home.

So far, it seemed that Grane was correct. Aside from the harpies outside trying to find a way in, with very little luck, it was eeriely quiet within the ruins of the fortress. Only the sound of the wind blowing through the halls could be heard, and even that was occasional. The team's travel to the communication center was largely uneventful, aside from the fact that a few paths on the map were not capable of being crossed, largely due to collapses. Whenever the group reached one of these places, Sand would pull up the first, unmarred map of the area and place a red dot to mark the blocked passage. It was quickly becoming clear that the robot's assessment of the fort's state was not entirely accurate.

Regardless, the group eventually reached their destination. One glance at the communication center made it evident that the location had also had a last stand, but was far better fortified. It appeared that the previous hunters here were not killed by the grimm, but by time, as their skeletal corpses were largely intact.

The communication center was large, roughly 1000 square feet, give or take. All the terminals were shutdown, and at the center was one large screen that was also black and dusty. Two Turrets sat idle on the side, scratched up but otherwise undamaged. Based off the damage on the floor they sat on, they were hastily placed. Lastly there was another skeletal corpse sitting on a rusty chair. In his hands was a large metal sword covered in rust. Though given its size, it was much too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was like a heap of raw iron.

A stalwart apparition keeping silent vigil over its charge long after life had slipped from its fingertips.

Sand regarded the remains of the fort's defenders with an inscrutable look before speaking to the others. "This is it."

With the battery Trad had been lugging around now hooked up to the communication equipment, Robert began looking for anything resembling a switch or button that could activate the power that was now flowing.

Sand looked on as the red-haired boy walked into the room. "Make sure the place is clear," she warned as she turned to face the corridor. "I'll keep an eye on the entrance,"

As Robert looked around, he would find the power block, blocked by a dormat robot. It looked similar to the one they found earlier, but in much less of a state of disrepair. But even in it's dormat state it was in the way of the power box, which appeared to be locked with a lock.

Walking up to the robot and the power box, Robert kneeled down in front of the machine and tapped it a couple times with his index finger. "Hello? Mr. Robot? Wakey, wakey," he told it, hoping to reactivate it and ask it to move out of the way of his objective. The robot remained still.

"Anyone home?" the team leader asked, as he instead began to knock on its chasis like one would a door to a neighbour or friend's house. "I need you to move for a moment, buddy."

The robot began to stir. With beeps and boops the robot awoken. "Greetings. This one is called Arkius. How may I be of assistance?" The robot did stand and move away from the power box, standing more out in the open. Arkius looked larger and more well built than the other robot, in addition of not being as damaged.

"Just stand over there is all. I just needed you to move so we could bring the power back on. Unless you've got a key to this thing, we're good for now," Robert told the bot before grabbing a couple of paperclips off the ground. Bending one into a 90 degree angle and the other into a straight line, the former thief began to work his magic on the lock. Unless someone or something stopped him, the boy would have the power box open within a few seconds.

“Another robot? Guess I won’t have to worry about heavy lifting for a while.” Trad remarked as Arkius was reactivated. While Robert picked the lock and Sand stood guard, Trad used this time to examine the room; more specifically, its defenses. It was always wise to have multiple fallback points in case of an emergency, and for a moment he was afraid this room only counted with one entrance the Grimm could use to box them in. That was, until a number of stacked boxes drew his attention to a barred door to the side of the room. The consoles in the room blocked it from view from the entrance, and behind the boxes, multiple wooden boards were riveted into the wall. His mind played with the possibility of clearing away the obstructions and moving one of the turrets to cover the side exit.

He suddenly paused in his musings. There was one fatal disadvantage that had somehow slipped Trad’s mind until now. Staring at the skeletal figures of the hunters, he realized if they were to hold out they would need to take care of the food situation or they would not have the strength to last the remaining days. “A fort this large had to have a storage of non perishables-” Trad said thinking out loud, “-and since Grimm don’t eat, I’m willing to bet it’s still intact. Well, assuming none of the previous hunters tried a last stand there as well.”

With a quiet click, the tumblers of the lock turned and the door to the power box swung open. "Hey guys, I got it," Robert said triumphantly. With a simple flip of the switch inside, the lights on the monitor flickered on. "Looks like we're back in business."

As the lights in the room flickered to life, suddenly everything became very bright, and then the darkness returned. The power box exploded, a loud pop followed by a small shower of sparks.

Sand glanced back at the commotion, blinked owlishly, then resumed her guard.

It had been nothing dangerous, but it was obvious that the age of the parts had corroded to the point that they were in dire need of a replacement. And even if the team scoured through the rest of the machines nearby, they were all nearly in the same state of disrepair. All except one.

"How may I be of assistance?" Said Arkius. He was still fully functional. His wiring was exposed, but from what the hunters could see, it looked similar to the same wiring needed to get the power box active again. Unlike the rest of the machines, Arkius was working just fine. He had everything the hunters needed to get the comm center up and running again.

Robert saw Arkius' exposed wiring and immediatley recognized it for the same wires the team needed to get the power box up and running. Though the thought of gutting the poor robot and using it to acheive their mission never even crossed his mind. Kneeling in front of it, he asked, "Hey, do you know where we might get the stuff needed to repair the power box?"

Arkius looked at the power box before turning to Robert. "Indeed I do. These components are highly worn down, however there is a chance that we could possibly salvage necessary components from other robots such as myself. We were created with the intent to survive long after disasters such as these, where our masters would no longer be able to maintain us. If we could find another robot of similar make to myself, we could potentially use their parts to repair the power box."

"We don't really have time for this. Hold on." Grane walked over to Arkius and began tearing off the robot's chest piece. After all, he did say a robot with a similar make to himself. And of course, Arkius qualified. Grane quickly took a look at the machine's internals, locating the core and ripping it clean out. "Sorry, but this was the fastest way."

"Guha!" Arkius screamed in surprise, and somehow, agony. It was always able to identify when it was damaged, but this was the first time it ever felt this sort of pain. He was quickly dying, and within a few seconds he would shut down. In his final moments, Arkius looked at Robert. He spoke in a calm monotone; his systems shutting down his more advance programs such as emotions. "I hope I helped." Arkius then collapsed onto the ground, sparks flying out of its wound. The light from it's body faded, leaving nothing behind but scrap metal.

Robert looked hopelessly into Arkius' now dead visual receptors, the previously bright red eye now blank and lifeless. It's last words seemed to echo inside of his head as the boy leaned back. "H-how could you do that? He just wanted to help. Did he really deserve to have his life cut down in its prime like that?" he asked Grane as the snake faunus made his way to the power box. "Was it really worth it?"

"First of all, machines don't live. Secondly, it probably was worth it." While Grane wasn't well versed in the usage newfangled scrolls, fuse boxes were a different story. When he was in the White Fang, they used a similar fuse box, and Grane wouldn't be surprised if the White Fang told him that they had stolen it off of some humans.

The red haired boy continued to glare at Grane as he attempted to get the power running again. No matter how much he disagreed with the snake faunus' actions, there wasn't anything he could do about it now. Robert then stood up off the ground and made his way to the monitors so that, when Grane was finished rewiring the power, he could contact their support.

A few minutes of waiting for the monitors to activate and soon the team would have access to the communication center's functions. Only one of the monitor's worked, but fortunately it seemed like it would have access to all the functions needed. A simple diagnostic scan would tell Robert or whoever was operating the terminal that all other communication stations within the fortress were offline, except one terminal that couldn't be reached without a password. There was some other functions as well, such as servailanece (Offline), an Intercomm system, and an Emergency Distress Signal.

Accessing the systems to the Emergency Distress Signal, Robert activated it with just a couple button presses on the keyboard. "Alright, looks like we're back in business," he told them. "Now if I remember correctly, all we need to do is get rid of any Grimm still here and then keep any out that want to try and get back in."

"Now that the distress signal is active we should probably figure out our plan of action." Trad gestured for Sand to follow as he moved toward Robert and Grane pulling out his scroll and displaying the map for them."Those solar panels are going to be vital to us if we hope to keep anymore Grimm from entering. As for the ones inside, we may just have to slowly pick them off as we go. But before we get into that, I would like to remind you all again that we currently have no supply of food or water. Whether we can find a storage or we simply have to scavenge I suggest prioritize getting at least a small stache started.”

Sand let out a displeased sigh as she joined the group over the map. "This morning I thought I could be in and out of this place in a day. That doesn't seem like an option anymore." Still, she leaned closer, pointing at two separate spots on the plans. "That robot marked the kitchens and some storage rooms here and here. We could look for food there."

As Robert looked at the map, a thought occured to him. There was a lot of ground to cover with the solar panels and starting their food stache and it would take a long time to get all of that done if they all traveled together. For a moment, the thought of splitting up crossed his mind, until he remembered the last time they had done that and how much of a disaster it had been. The boy went into another sudden coughing fit before finally saying, "Maybe we should put it to a vote? To decide whether trying to get this place up and running so we can defend it or getting food and water should be our main objective?"

Sand pursed her lips. "Even if we turn the panels on, it will still take them two days to properly power the station. The first robot said as much. I'd rather make sure we can last that long."

Grane agreed with Sand. "It doesn't hurt to be prepared in the case that help doesn't come for a while. Or if we get trapped down here." Grane briefly wondered if Robert always put things to a vote. Then again, knowing him, perhaps it was better they put it to a vote than trust his judgement.

“Then it’s settled.” Trad began tracing out pathway on the plans, “We’ll check for food and other supplies in these rooms. Once we’ve got a good supply gathered, I think we should head for the solar panel closest to the storage rooms here, but we can worry about that when we get there.” Trad let everyone have one last look at the map before sliding his scroll back into his pocket. “If everyone’s ready we’ll leave at your command, Robert.”

Considering what a piss poor job Robert had been doing as a leader on this mission, what with losing one member, getting the team separated, and having a certain member disobey orders, the boy was caught a bit off guard by Trad's willingness to follow his lead. Though when the redhaired boy gave it some thought, Trad did appear to be the most loyal of the party. Nonetheless, the leader cleared his throat, before taking a moment to recover from yet another sudden cough, and replied, "Um, yeah. Let's get going. To the closest storage room we go."

The closet storage room that wasn't destoryed was still quite a bit away. They would have to take a few unexplored tunnels and, worse of all, a short trip through the courtyard. The path was only twenty feet long, but even before the others saw them the team could still hear the harpies flying around in a rage that their fortress had been compromised by hunters. What exactly they were doing was hard to tell, as the fortress lacked windows on this level, but the sound of their screeching made their presence obvious enough. But once they were beyond the courtyard, it would be a fairly short trip to the first storage room, which was attached to the mess hall.

Hearing the sound of the Harpies encircling the courtyard above, Robert began to devise a plan to deal with them as the team traveled through the twisting and turning tunnels. Once the four reached the doorway that would lead them outside into the fray, the boy turned to everyone else and said, "Alright, I may have something of a strategy. So, if we send out someone through another door and have them grab their attention, maybe you Trad since I'm sure bashing that sword against your shield will do the trick, we might be able to get the Harpies to begin swooping down, making their, um, flight patterns more predictable and easy to shoot down."

"Do all your plans involve splitting up?" Sand asked frankly.

"That... does seem to be common theme among them doesn't it? I swear it's completely coincidental. If you can think of anything better though I'd be willing to go for it," Robert replied.

Sand let out an unlady-like grunt. It seemed she did not find the idea of crossing the courtyard again paritularly palatable. "The Harpies aren't the only problem. There were a few Ursas last time we walked through this place. If we use someone as bait, they may be cut off and forced to take different routes, or we may be unable to regroup until every last Grimm in the courtyard is dead." She said this matter-of-factly, as though reading from a list. As she did, she gave the closed wound at Robert's side a pointed look. "I don't feel we're in a good position to do that yet."

"Well our other goal is to also clear the place and if we keep putting that off it may get much harder as more Grimm decide to show up to the party. I don't think we'll be in a much better shape later on, so it's best to deal with it now when they'll be at their fewest. At the very least, we should take out any that get in our way instead of completely avoiding them," Robert explained. He knew his plan was extremely flawed and if anyone had anything better he wouldn't argue, but ignoring the Grimm in front of them felt more like procrastination than strategy.

"I see." The huntress said plainly, crossing her arms in a dissatisfied gesture. "But the priority right now were supposed to be the supplies. Clearing away obstacles is fine. I imagine the Grimm will be watching the doors this time around anyway, but willingly engaging a full flock of harpies from an open courtyard after that hurdle in the forest is just needless risk."

Trad took a moment to contemplate the options on the table. They both had good points, but in the end Trad decided Sand had the right course of action. “I have to agree with Sand. We’ve already had to deal with a few engagements today with little time to recover. We may not get back to 100 percent, but I’d certainly like to be closer before we tackle this. Besides, we haven’t exactly set up and preventative measures for the Grimm outside the walls. As of now what Grimm we do kill will most likely be replaced by ones from the outside.”

As the team debated their next actions, there was a sound from behind them. What they'd see is a lone Creep, charging at them holding what was obviously a rocket in it's mouth. "SKREEEEEEE!" It screamed as it lunged into the center of the group.

Spotting the lone Grimm, clutching the missile in its mouth, Robert did the only thing that seemed sensible to him. Get closer to it. "Everyone get clear! Run!" he shouted to the rest of his team before diving on top of the Creep's head and the missile. His fingers then locked themselves around the monster's jaws as he used all of the strength he had in his twig-like arms to pry its mouth open. He was going to make sure that, if this thing went off, no one else would be hurt, but that didn't mean he was going out without a fight.

The last thing he heard before light engulfed him was someone calling out his name in alarm.

A few hours past. Robert, fortunately, was alive. He had managed to fling the explosive far enough that his aura was able to take the brunt of the damage, though it launched him and his team outside. They were quickly attacked by the grimm gathered outside, forcing them to retreat into the other building. Seperated from familiar grounds the group eventually found themselves in what must have been the bunks of the fortress. Bedframes and matresses were knocked over and turned into crude fortifications, and once more they saw the valiant last stand of the hunters here.

But there was more than just ruins here. There was a glimmer of hope. Near the back of the room, untouched by grimm, was a small shrine, mostly pristine aside from the dust that had gathered on it. On the shrine were candles that had long since went out, a dusty picture frame, and a card. The picture was that of all the hunters who were stationed at Fort Jeager. Inside, a few sheets of paper with each of their names, so that those lost here would never be forgotten. Further search and the hunters would find a tape recorder. Truly, an artifact of older days, yet despite it's considerable age, it was still useable. And when someone pressed play, there was a message.

"My name is Nyx. I am not a hunter. There are no hunters here. I am a researcher here at Fort Jeager on Project Funky Boy. If you're hearing this message, then I know the fort has fallen. But, do not give up! When the grimm approached, I knew we were doomed. But where others would have given into despair, we fought back with greater strength then we ever had before. We made those Grimm fight for each inch. Never in my life had I felt anything like it. Even as I weeped, as I prayed, and said goodbye to my loved ones, we still threw ourselves towards the face of death itself. Never surrendering. Even against the inveitable, we would not let the shadows take away our hopes and dreams."

The tape skipped. It needed to be played backwards for the rest of the message; an odd contraption, but it worked.

"Even now I know there is still a chance, even after our deaths. Near this recording you would find a keycard. Use it to access the lift in the central generator room. There you will find the fruits of our labor, and what Project Funky Boy was really about; the creation of a humougous mecha known as the Titan Mauler. Made to combat colossus sized grimm, it requires at least four operators to pilot. A team who can work together for a common goal. There is not much time left. Access the lift, take control of the Titan Mauler, and destory the heartless darkness here. I know you can do it. Even if you aren't a hunter, you can be a hero."

With the keycard and some power flowing through the fortress, Team RGTS was able to access the hidden elevator. They fought their way through the fortress, even slaying the troublesome Creep that had been harassing them their entire time. With teamwork, they also managed to jury rig some of the robots and turrets into a semblance of working order, though their use were limited as stationary guards with guns. Still, at least with the robots on watch, the team could get some rest without resorting keeping different shifts.

The next few days, the team slowly worked to clear the fortress and hold their positions. They raided what was left of the mess hall and pantries, with nearly all the food there spoiled. Even the canned goods have started to smell rancid and decayed. Fortunately, it seemed that the pantries spices have largely been intact. This, combined with a creeper-dug tunnel that led to a cliffside, allowed the hunters to regularlly attempt fishing for food, using spices to help add flavor and some neutrients. At the very least, they needed to survive on the ocean's bounty for the next few days.

Finally, the last day arrived. If the signal was picked up, reinforcements should be arriving to the fort. There were still plenty of Grimm swarming about, too many for the reinforcement to break on their own. But unlike so many times before, they had people on the inside. And despite their limited resources, the hunters had a way to thin the grimm horde and retake Fort Jeager. When the airships arrived near Fort Jeager they were swarmed by a flock of harpies, their massive weapons taking out large groups but they lacked point-defenses. But while the hapries swarmed the airships, that's when the young hunters emerged from Fort Jeager and began to lay waste to the Grimm that remained at the fort. Iniitally it seemed that their numbers were far to few to fight against the thousands of grimm charging at them. But the young hunters had made a few more allies since they arrived to the fort.

From cracks in the walls and windows that still remained, a hail of gunfire roared through the courtyard to cut down grimm before they reached the team. The robot of Fort Jeager, once just servants of their human masters, have inherited their weapons. With the guidance of Robert, Grane, Trad, and Sand, the robots helped the hunters fight off the swarm of Grimm. The battle was intense, neither side ever getting a chance to rest or recover from their wounds. Robots fell as they were overwhelmed by grimm, but for each defender taken down they alone had felled ten of the nightmares.

Robert knew that even with the support of the robots, they didn't have enough bullets to stop the tide of grimm. Even a moment to pause may be enough for his team to get overwhelmed. One surprise was all the grimm needed to take them out in one fell swoop. But they couldn't surprise his team if he surprised the grimm first. As the horde charged through the deadzone, a beowolf was impaled through the foot before suspequently cut in half. Robert emerged from the ground, using the creep's own tunnels to get underneath the horde right into it's center. Robert began to stab, slash, shoot, and tear through as many grimm as he could, even as he was clawed, bit, and thrown about. Despite being the lone hunter, he was doing enough damange that the grimm started to turn towards him. Perhaps it was because of the threat he posed. Or more likely, they could sense the self-loathing and dispair coming from him. They could taste his doubt, his fear, and his disspointment. They relished in his self-pity, and hungered for more. But the only thing they would eat was cold steel and lead, and Robert was serving up a buffet of pain and death.

But Robert wasn't going to die today. Not if Trad had anything to say about it. Upon seeing his fearless, foolish team leader ambush the horde, Trad charged through the horde like Bob the Boarbatusk, crushing or flinging anything in his path. He reached Robert just in time to skewer a ursa through the throat, and together the two began to carve a path through the grimm back to the safety of the rest of the team. Robots above began to pour boiling oil and grease over the grimm, killing the wounded, but setting up Trad's escape. Cutting down any grimm in his way, soon the two hunters were just barely outside the reach of the horde. Robert continued on, but Trad stopped and face the horde. But instead of taking out his sword and shield, he took out a cigar and a lighter. A present from the former overseer of Fort Jeager. Lighting up the cigar and tossing it into the oil, Trad created a wall of fire that burned the grimm, and gave the team precious few seconds to reorient themselves.

The robots reloaded, and a few more took out melee weapons after their guns ran out of ammo. Only a few joined, the ones capable of using their great strength and durability to weather the assault on the grimm. But soon the oil fire would burn out, and the battle would resume. But Sand wasn't going to wait that long. Calling for one of the machines to catapult her over the wall of fire, she landed on top of a large ursa, slamming her Orc Fist right into it's jaw. Wrapping an arm around it's neck she spun around it, snaping it in one motion while kicking in the skullplate of a nearby beowolf. She leaped off the falling corpse and smashed a creeper back into the ground. One tried to come out from underneath her to bite her ankle, but she has learned their tricks already. When it came up she gave it a stiff punch into it's gullet and out the back of it's head. And this was before she brought her claws out. Sand took down grimm with more mechnical efficency than the machines themselves, dashing to one grimm and taking them down with a flurry of blows before rolling to another, dodging or parrying the wild beasts attacks.

Copying Sand's tactic Robert and Trad also catapulted themselves into enemy lines, drawing the attention of the horde to themselves while the robots peppered the grimm with bullets, and large melle bots slammed their huge weapons into them. When a particularly large and tough Ursa was about to crush Robert underneath it's paw.

The redhaired team leader could feel his breath quickly escaping him as the large Grimm pressed the majority of its weight down on his chest. In an attempt to save himself, Robert switched his bracers to ballistic mode to shoot the Ursa off of him, only for the horrifying click of an empty magazine to be heard instead of the usual crack of a bullet leaving the barrel. He was in trouble, with no way to reach for a replacement mag and his face beginning to turn purple as he struggled for air, his options were limited.

With a snarl that could almost be mistaken for a malevolent smile, the Ursa moved closer to Robert's face, almost as if reveling in the boy's torture. "Eat my shorts," he said sounding out of breath before switching his weapon back to its blade form and skewering the beast in the eye.

Stumbling back in pain, the creature cried out as it accidentally released its prey. It blinked away the blood in its eyes as it tried to find the boy again, only to regain its vision just in time to see him load in a fresh set of rounds into his weapon and fire point blank between its eyes.

"Eat my shorts? Really? That was the best I could think of?" Robert said as his hand gripped his injured chest.

As Robert struggled to his feet, he quickly fell back down. Grimm swarmed his position, only for his teammates and robots coming to his aid. Grane's Glaive cleared a path through the Grimm for one of the larger robots to grab Robert and take him back inside. He was too injured to protest, as he couldn't even speak. As the doors closed behind him, he could see his team continue to fight, slowly falling back behind the defensive line they had made...

---

Robert wouldn't awaken until some time later. When he awoke, he was still in the fort, but it was eerily quiet. When he walked out of the room, there was no one. Nothing at all. He could wander through the entire fort and Robert wouldn't find anyone. It's only when he'd left the fort and got to the courtyard would he see what happened, tears falling from his face.

There was his team, and the robots, and the hunters, and not a grimm in sight. The entire courtyard was in ruins, explosions and blood splattered all over the place, but there were no grimm. The hunters had won, and Fort Jeager was theirs. A hunter armed with a humble lance walked over to Robert, giving him a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

"Mission complete, hunter. You did good."

[Lucius Cypher]

Becoming the party faunas

"I hope I'm not late to the party." Gren arrived just as the airship dropped. From a cursory glance, he could see that Sepia had suffered some sort of bullet wound, and was being attended by the maid. The first aid would be good, but from the concern on her face he guessed that she wanted Sepia to go with her to the infirmary. Perhaps if it was a critical wound, but fortunately that's what the hunters had Aura for. "Hmm. Sepia's been shot. If you can make sure the wound doesn't get infected, and if she takes it easy for the rest of the afternoon, her aura ought to kick in and handle the rest. If it's only one bullet than it can take care of fighting infection and healing the damage done. If you really want to get the bullet out, you could always go to the infirmary later. To that end, a night out in town is exactly what she needs. Just something to take her mind off all this... Stuff that's been happening."

Not that he was trying to dismiss the seriousness of the wound. Rather, he was trying to make sure Shiro and the maid weren't freaking out over one injury. As nonchalant as it may seem, one bullet really wasn't anything to worry about. Sepia just needs to relax and let her aura take care of it, and the best way to do that was to enjoy a night out with the team. If she stayed back at the infirmary and did nothing but dwell on it, she won't get better until tomorrow and miss out on all the fun. Gren had also caught the tail end of Skyra's request to get drunk, which Gren was fine with. Sure he might be a bit underage but considering that he's a cyborg and his bionic liver can process torpedo fluid, a few drinks weren't going to do him any harm. Someone had to be Skyra's drinking buddy after all.

"C'mon, today is a night for us to enjoy our youth. Let's not worry about rules or our future. We came back from some tough missions, and I'm sure we all want to get some unadulterated R&R. Now with that said, let's go!"

---

A STICKY SITUATION

@Onarax@Savato@Sho Minazuki@Crimmy

The webbing gave way to the molten liquid that cascaded down into the darkness. Thousands of infantile broodlings died, and the more matures either shared their fate or barely escaped. But not the queen. The queen, despite her size, was too quick and too cunning to be caught by such an obvious attack. When the webbing gave away, there was nothing underneath it but an empty void. Team Canvas would see Taidan's flames go further into the abyss until it was swallowed up by the darkness, and with it, many of the broodlings. But what of the Ariadne they were hunting? They would have to go back into the bowels to investigate. Even for faunas with night vision or humans with an inexplicably good memory and eyes, the Ariadne was nowhere to be seen. More immediately, there were also large broodlings still climbing towards Taidan, a few who were already on the surface ready to catch him. When he flew out of the abyss, they fired webbing above him, careful to avoid his lava stream.

[SevenStormStyle]

Sepia Russet

"I don't think it was toxic, and I haven't been anywhere particularly unsanitary..." Sepia closed her eyes in thought, trying to retrace her steps from when her team had been ambushed. Just the car, then that open area, and finally the airship. "Though, now that you mention it, I am a little dizzy." She quickly added, "Just a bit, nothing to worry about, I'm sure. It's probably just all the excitement." Mentally, however, Sepia was starting to consider that she'd been underestimating her situation. This girl, who obviously knew quite a bit about medicine, seemed insistent that her wound be taken care of as soon as possible. "Shiro, too." she thought, watching him out of the corner of her eye. "I didn't mean to work him up. I hope he's not upset with me about this."

As the maid introduced herself, Sepia returned her attention to the girl. "You're a huntress? Funny we ran into you like this. I'm sure this doesn't give the best impression of the wear and tear one gets on missions. Sorry about that." She returned Yue's bowing gesture. As someone from a household that employed maids, Sepia had noticed a subservient tendency among them. However, it was important to her that Yue see the equality between hunters of the same level at Beacon if she hadn't already. "My name is Sepia russet, nice to meet you. Do you prefer to be addressed by your given name or surname?" Hearing Krys's input, she continued. "What's your opinion? Get to the infirmary, or "keep on keeping on", as they say?" She hadn't really had the chance to get to know her teammates very well yet, but she didn't exactly want to drop dead either. Speaking of, she glanced over to Gren and gave him a sheepish smile. "About that...does anyone know about how long it takes for aura to come back? Especially if it's uh, being used a little bit all the time?"