Banner by bushtuckapenguin
Chapter Three:
Troubled Water
The Black Finch had once been a medium-sized fishing boat, but had been converted into a small cargo boat by Plutonian Industries to run jobs requiring speed and subtlety that a larger vessel could not do. After several years of that work it had been sold to an up-and-coming Dust vendor in Atlas. When he inevitably died of mysterious circumstances, it had been acquired by Pyrus Stitch, a crafty criminal and leader of the Duergar gang. He had lent it to Sable for the job. Argo had memorized all of this, along with the boat’s technical specifics. There was no such thing as being too prepared.
As the Finch pulled into the dock, Argo saw a short, stout man emerge from the interior. His iron brooch identified him as one of Stitch’s men. He stepped off of the boat, and extended a hand. “Wicker Smoak, at your service. I assume you are Mister Rajah?”
Mister Rajah. Argo grimaced. “Just call me Argo. You’re the captain of this vessel?”
“That’s right. Been working with her for five years now. She’s not that impressive to look at, but she’s tough, and not too shabby in the speed department either. Twin CDR-15 Dust engines! She can outrun most grimm, at top speed.” He looked rather proud of this, despite the fact that, as Agro had learned several hours earlier, the engines had been installed two years before the boat had come into Stitch’s service.
“Useful,” Argo responded, “but I don’t think that will be too much of a problem.” A chill seemed to creep over the waterfront as a car pulled up, and Tenebra and the others emerged. “I doubt the grimm will want to go anywhere near us.”
Smoak raised an eyebrow, but ushered the four of them onto the boat. The cargo space had been emptied, and four bedrolls had been laid out. “Modest accommodations admittedly, but it’s still sheltered from the weather. The journey from here to Atlas’ll take about a week depending on the weather, so you’d best get comfortable.”
Rowan spoke up. “I’m more familiar with sailing ships, but if you need an extra hand, I do have a fair bit of nautical experience.”
Smoak nodded. “We could always use another set of hands. The rest of you should help watch for grimm, once you get some rest.”
“I swear to God, Hal,” Wisteria Thorn shouted, “I am not getting paid nearly enough for this!”
The young huntress was holding on for dear life to the talon of an immense Poxwing, as the grimm hurtled through the air at breakneck speed.
“Relax,” Halcyon Traveler responded from the creature’s back, “this will be fine! I’ve almost got it!”
The two of them had been hunting the creature for several days, and had finally isolated it from its pack that morning. The plan had been simple: Wait until the batlike monster landed, and then pin it down. Once it was restrained, a tissue sample could be obtained. Unfortunately, it appeared that Hal’s calculations had underestimated the creature’s strength. Typical.
She swung the partisan end of her staff into the creature’s flank, and used it as a lever to swing herself onto its back. “Remind me why we can’t just kill the damned thing!?”
“It will begin to disintegrate as soon as it is killed! When that happens, the entire body has to be incinerated to avoid exposure. In order to safely gather a sample of the pathogen, we need to harvest a piece of flesh while the beast is alive!” The Poxwing, as Hal had explained to her, was unique among grimm in that it remained a danger even after being killed. Instead of just disintegrating, the immense chiropteran would dissolve into a cloud of disease-carrying mist. The fumes would infect any human or faunus nearby with a disease called the Spawnplague, a sickness which not only affected the body, but the soul as well.
It had been Hal’s idea, of course, to try and actually study the disease in its active form. Wisteria had wanted to leave the task of actually gathering the sample to the Atlas military, but Hal was impatient, and decided to do it himself.
She swung her staff again, burying it into the grimm’s back. It let out a hideous shriek, and she flinched. “Do you have the containment vessel ready?”
“Yes! You know, it occurs to me that the wing membranes appear to be constructed-”
“Not. The time! Get ready, I’m about to pry it loose!” She gripped the top of the staff, and using the leverage from its length, pulled it, ripping off a fist-sized piece of the poxwing’s back. Ready, Hal grabbed it, shoving it into the thermos-like device he had devised to contain it.
“Alright, initiating vacuum seals! One!” A blue light was illuminated on the device. “Two!” A green light. “Three!” A red light. “Alright, sample contained!”
Finally! Wisteria jabbed the staff into the creature’s right wing, causing it to plummet towards the forest below. “Brace for impact!”
They crashed into the treeline, slamming into the ground and skidding to a halt after a dozen meters. Wisteria picked herself off of the ground, spinning to face the creature, which lurched to its feet. She charged forwards, striking it on the head and then stabbing the blade of her staff into its chest. Darting backwards, she aimed the other side of her staff, a carved dragon head made from obsidian, and pulled a trigger on the handle. A jet of green and violet plasma erupted from the weapon, consuming and incinerating the poxwing.
She heard a sound and looked up to see Hal dangling from a branch by one foot. “A little… help would be appreciated.” She sighed, and sliced the branch off of the tree, causing him to tumble to the ground in a heap.
Three days on the open sea, and Rowan was beginning to feel at home again. Sure, the Finch wasn’t anything like the old sailing ships he used to captain, but there was something about being on the open water that just felt right. He understand why Annie had never been able to give it up. In a stroke of luck, it had turned out that Wicker was the cousin of Stanton Smoak, an old friend of Rowan’s, and that had certainly helped him feel at home among the Finch’s crew.
Strangely enough, they had not sighted a single grimm since leaving the shore. When Rowan mentioned it, Argo had simply said that precautions had been taken to avoid encountering them, which was not particularly illuminating. The saffron-eyed young man was a rather terse speaker, and never seemed to be fully focused on conversation.
It was their fourth night aboard the Finch when Rowan woke and noticed that Argo was not in the hold. Ten was sleeping softly, while Colleen had curled up in a corner and was muttering something in her sleep. However, Argo’s bedroll was empty.
Rowan stood and walked out onto the deck. The sky was mostly empty of clouds, though a strong wind blowing from the north was stirring the water, and the stars shone brightly. He looked towards the prow of the boat and saw Argo looking over the water, his spear in his hands. He clambered over the roof of the cabin and dropped down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”
Argo didn’t even turn to look at him. “Someone has to stand watch.”
“The crew can keep an eye out. I doubt we’ll have trouble anyway. We haven’t so far. You should get some rest.”
Argo was silent for a few seconds. “There’s something on your mind, isn’t there?”
Rowan shrugged. “It just seems weird to me that the kid isn’t attracting more grimm towards us. She seems like an ideal target, full of fear and pain. So where are they?”
Argo turned to face him. “This is the main reason I wanted her on board. It was a gamble I wasn’t sure would work, but it’s paid off so far.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s something about her. The grimm don’t like it. They’re… afraid, I suppose, if they can feel fear. Windsor Wyatt, the man who conducted the experiments on her, had noticed it. I wasn’t sure if it would help, given that this entire team is practically a beacon for grimm.”
Rowan wasn’t quite sure what he meant. “How are we-”
Argo raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t noticed? Each of us has some skeletons in the closet, things we’d like to forget, emotions we’d like to suppress. Pain, fear, anger, grief” he gave Rowan a meaningful look, “guilt.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I can see it. In your eyes. You act the part of a cheerful fool, but your heart is weighed down. You’ve done things that you aren’t proud of.” He turned back to look once more at the crashing waves. “I know that feeling.”
He was right, of course. Ten hadn’t seen it from behind her mask, but it was there. He couldn’t hide forever. He sighed. “When I was younger, all I wanted was freedom. To follow the whims of my heart, not beholden to anyone. And I got it. I thought that liberty was the freedom to do whatever I wanted, never fearing consequences. Until, one day, I looked at myself and say the same man who had killed my family. I had become the people that I had tried to escape from.” His voice began to tremble. “I did… I did bad things. Things I would give anything to reverse.”
Argo nodded. “And yet you still manage to put on a smile. There’s something to be said for that, I suppose.” He looked Rowan in the eyes. “We’re both trying to make amends. I know you’re not ready to trust me, but I am trying to do the right thing.”
He tensed up, suddenly, raising his spear. “Did you hear that?” A low, eerie sound, like a whale’s song, echoed across the water. Rowan quickly attached the katar to his arm. The call sounded once again.
Argo scanned the water, and pointed. “There, movement.” Rowan looked closely, and saw a black shape rise from the water, and then sink into the depths again. A grimm.
“I’ll get Ten.”
Argo nodded, and shifted a lever on his spear, transforming it into a sort of rifle. “Go.”
Rowan ran towards the hold as the boat suddenly lurched. He fell to the deck, his face slamming into the railing on the side of the boat. Standing back to his feet, he saw it. Like a huge serpent, the grimm towered over the boat, it’s eyes glowing a deep red. The monstrosity bared a mouth full of dagger-like teeth and lunged towards him. He rolled to the side, the creature missing him by inches. It raised its head for another strike, but was struck on the side of the head by a blast of orange energy. It turned to face the source of the attack, and Rowan saw Argo, rifle in hand. The grimm hissed and swung its head towards him, but Argo raised his left hand, and a plane of shimmering blue force materialized between him and the monster. It rebounded off of the force field and retreated back into the water. Argo turned to Rowan. “It’s coming around for another pass! Get Tenebra!”
Rowan ran into the hold, and shook Ten awake. “Come on! We’re in trouble!”
About thirty seconds later they emerged, Ten’s weapons ready, to see Argo thrown across the boat by a blow from the grimm’s tail. Ten ran to help him up. “What is that thing!?”
Argo waved his hand again, and another strike from the creature was reflected. “Ormaster. Very powerful. Can you draw its attention? Blocking it like this is draining my aura pretty quickly.” Ten nodded, and fired an arrow at the ormaster, which exploded in a cloud of flame. It shrieked, and began to follow Ten as she ran towards the front of the boat. Argo turned to Rowan. “It’s hide is too thick, but if we can get to a weak point, like the eyes…”
Rowan nodded. “On it!” He was wreathed in a crimson glow for a brief second, and propelled himself upwards, grabbing onto the boat’s dorsal fin. He swung unto the top of it, and then leapt onto the creature’s gargantuan coils, running along the massive serpent as it thrashed through the wind-whipped water. He let out a whooping cheer as he flipped onto the back of its head, and stabbed his katar towards its right eye.
It lurched forwards suddenly, and Rowan found himself plunging into the water as the grimm dove downwards. He kicked off of it, and started to swim to the surface. The ormaster’s tail swung towards him, as thick as a redwood trunk, and slammed into his abdomen. The blow knocked the breath out of him, and left him stunned as the serpent’s maw darted towards him. A streak of blue came from above, as a dust arrow struck the ormaster dead in the eye. But even with the creature stunned, he didn’t have enough air to reach the surface. Unless…
It was crazy. It was stupid. It was reckless. So, of course, he had to do it. Rowan turned and swam towards the grimm. Its thrashing spasms of pain twice threatened to send him reeling, but he was lucky and evaded them, swimming close enough to touch its scaly hide. He hooked his boots around the gaps in the scales, and focused, drawing on his aura and gathering it around him. The ormaster turned its head to face him, having finally shaken the arrow free from it’s now empty eye socket. Rowan flashed it a grin, and released his aura.
It had been too long. Ten had seen it take Rowan under, and he hadn’t come up. She had fired a few shots towards where she thought the creature was, but she had no idea if she had hit it through the crashing surf. “I can’t just let him drown! I’m going in!”
She ran to the side of the boat, and prepared to dive over the railing into the icy waters. But… wait. What was that? A red glow, growing stronger, and stronger…
Rowan rocketed out of the water like a flying fish strapped to a surface-to-air missile, glowing like a crimson comet. He must have reached fifty feet in the air before he began to fall. Before he could fall back into the water, Argo stepped forward, projecting a sloped force field that caused Rowan to tumble onto the boat instead of into the ocean. He lay there, coughing and sputtering for a good five seconds before choking out “I’m… I’m fine. At least for now. Nice shooting, by the way. Taking its eye out from that far away through the water, real impressive.”
Ten raised an eyebrow. “I actually hit it?”
He grinned. “Oh yeah. It’s really pissed off.” As if on cue, a deafening roar shook the boat.
The ormaster rose from the water, it’s remaining eye glowing like a signal flare through the night. And then… the wind-tossed waters… stopped. The winds stopped blowing. Everything seemed to freeze. Argo, Rowan, Ten, even the grimm, all turned their eyes towards to open doorway that led into the cargo hold.
The girl was awake.
A fearsome roar had woken her from her sleep. Stumbling out onto the deck, Colleen saw the serpent, towering over the boat. Rowan was lying on the deck, the others standing around him.
THE CREATURE WISHES HARM UPON THEM. SURRENDER CONTROL. TEAR IT TO PIECES.
For once, she was in agreement. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and changed.
Colleen started to shudder, and then it looked like a hundred worms were crawling and slithering under her skin, down her limbs, up her neck, across her stomach. Rowan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She opened her eyes, and they were pitch black, with six glowing white pupils in each. Her constant frown split open into a grin, revealing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. And then the worm-like things started to strain against her skin, opening cuts across her body. Several metal blades emerged from the wounds on the tips of coiling metal tendrils, like the tentacles of some great sea monster. Blood poured from her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She turned, and looked the ormaster directly in the eye, and screamed.
It wasn’t a scream of fear, or anger, or even pain. It was a primal sound of alien terror, like thunder being strung up and tortured by cosmic thumbscrews. It was a sound so alien, and unearthly, that every muscle in his body tensed up, and every cell in his brain was thinking the same thing. Run or die. Run or die. This is the sound of Death.
He could tell that Argo and Tenebra were experiencing the same reaction, and the sounds from the cabin suggested the crew were as well. Even the ormaster’s toothy grin seemed to almost twist in terror and loathing. The metal tentacles of the monstrosity that had seconds earlier been an eighteen-year-old girl tore through the air, piercing the grimm’s squamous hide with an ease as if it were thin air. The mechanical appendages then retracted, pulling her towards the grimm like a grappling hook. The creature lunged at her, and its jaws nearly closed around her, but another pair of tentacles erupted from her shoulders and pierced its upper jaw, while the ones that had ripped free of her arms darted downwards to hold the ormaster’s maw open. The remaining tentacles ripped themselves free of the grimm’s flesh, and retracted back into her body. She let out another horrifying screech, and then her stomach burst open, a dozen or so smaller tentacles tearing free of her abdomen and coiling down the grimm’s throat.
It writhed and twisted, trying to shake free as blades stabbed through its flesh, but with a stomach-turning sound, the ormaster’s sides began to split like a seam. From the inside, Colleen tore the serpent in half, lengthwise, and its corpse, along with the girl herself, began to fall into the water.
Argo seemed to have shaken himself free to the awed terror that had consumed them. “We can’t let her hit the water. The cold will kill her!” He reached out his hand, but nothing happened. “My aura’s all spent!” Without saying a word, Ten turned, and ran inside the cabin.
Rowan turned to Argo. “What the hell is she doing!?” As he spoke, the boat began to hum, and the engines started to glow. The realization hit him. “Oh.”
The Black Finch shot forward, green flames erupting out of its engines, and Rowan, having nothing to grab onto, slammed face first into the side of the cabin.
When he came to, he was lying on his bedroll, with Ten sitting quietly beside him. He groaned. “What.. what happened?”
She grinned. “You took a pretty bad blow to the head. I was surprised, I didn’t think there was anything left in there to damage.”
He sat up. “Ha, ha.” Then he remembered. “Colleen-”
“Is fine. Well, as fine as she could possibly be. Now do you understand why I told you to stay away from her?”
“What was that?” The memory of the abomination that had ripped its way out of Colleen’s flesh was enough to make him gag.
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know. The files I found didn’t say anything about… that.” She shook her head. “Whatever that was, I’m glad it’s on our side.”
“No kidding.”
In a dark chamber hewn from granite and marble, lit by a thousand glowing crystals, something stirred. A cold light crept across the floor, flowing like an ethereal stream until it reached the hooded man who sat motionless in the center of the room. He opened his eyes, and sighed. He waved his hand over the pool of dark water that lay in front of him, and it shimmered with an unnatural radiance. There was a long moment of stillness, and the image of a man appeared in the pool. He was thin, almost unnaturally so, with bleached white hair and pitch-black skin. His eyes glowed crimson as he spoke. “Meridian? Why have you contacted me? Is the operation proceeding according-” he coughed, “-according to plan?”
Aster Meridian nodded. “Do not worry, I shall complete my end of the bargain. But… there is something wrong. Not a threat to the plan itself, but to the very framework of the world in which it operates.”
The man in the pool, who called himself Kurgan Torva, wheezed out a short laugh. “Always speaking in riddles. What’s happened?”
“It is coming. Our enemy is on the move.”