Banner by bushtuckapenguin
Chapter Four:
Partners in Crime
Atlas was a sight to behold. Argo had seen it once before, three years prior, when his father had taken him and his two older brothers there on a “business trip.” That time they had come in from the air, so Argo hadn‘t quite been able to appreciate the true scale of the immense towers that made up the center of the city. Looming highest was the CCT tower, the largest in Remnant, standing over the city as a testament to Atlas’s technological supremacy. A short ways onward was the SDC headquarters, and then the Atlas Academy itself. Hesperides Hall, seat of Atlas’ council, was rather small by comparison, though still dwarfing anything back home in Ophidian.
As the Black Finch made its way up the river, they passed the shining spires and entered the world in their shadow. In complete contrast to the gorgeous wonders above, the slums of Atlas were very much reminiscent of Ophidian. Makeshift shacks and tiny caves carved into the side of the cliffs were the most opulent of dwellings to be seen, and the streets along the river bank were covered in litter, rotting waste, and the occasional dead animal. Like in Ophidian, the population was around two-thirds faunus, most of whom worked as wage-slaves for the Schnees. The military glory of Atlas didn’t make it all the way down here, and aside from the occasional policeman the streets were empty of security. It wasn’t worth the trouble to send androids down here. They’d be taken apart and sold for scrap metal the minute they set foot in Duergar territory. It was they who ruled here, not Atlas.
As the Finch pulled into an old dock, Argo started to wonder what exactly was in store for them. He knew the basics of the job, of course, and he knew what was at stake, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He scanned the street. A young woman was lying on the ground, shivering in the cold air. A pair of boys ran down a flight of rickety stairs. An old man was begging for money on a corner. Any one of them could be an informant for the Hamadryads. They couldn’t let their guard down. He turned, and walked back to the cabin. And then there was the girl… He had seen their faces, of course. He had felt the same horror, and revulsion, but unlike them, he had known what was coming. Doctor Wyatt’s journals were a gallery of horrors, but Colleen Gwaed had been the most disturbing.
The project was called Sanguis Fomor. An attempt to create the perfect soldier. They had amplified her already impressive regenerative abilities and reinforced her skeleton with a cybernetic frame. That much Tenebra knew. What Argo had kept from her was that there had been unintended side effects. It was almost as if the implants were alive and had a mind of their own. Wyatt had been fascinated by this development, but the girl had escaped before he could determine its cause. Argo had known that the others would not have willingly entered a small isolated space for a full week with her if they knew the full extent of her abilities, so he had kept it from them, hoping they wouldn’t have to learn the truth.
Of course, that hadn’t exactly worked as planned. And now even Rowan, who had been showing her so much concern, was giving her a wide berth.
The rest of the team made their way onto the deck and down a narrow ramp to the shore. Wicker led them down a dirty street towards the southern end of the slums. As they did so, Ten whispered to him, “We’re being watched.”
Argo looked around but didn’t see anything. “What are you talking about?”
She pointed to a small shape hanging on a gutter pipe nearby. “There.” It was spherical and maybe metallic, though it was cloaked in shadows. As he turned his head, it scuttled out of sight on spindly legs.
NOTE: I currently do not have access to the illustrations for this chapter. They will be added as soon as possible.
As they approached a small tavern, Rowan saw Argo tense up. He looked up and saw the sign above the building, reading “Brother Smith’s.” The center of operations for Pyrus Stitch.
“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Stitch was a known associate of the Hamadryads.
Argo sighed. “We don’t, not exactly. But Ten thought that this was the best meeting place.”
Ten rolled her eyes. “It’s too public. They can’t have violence break out here, not without drawing the eyes of the authorities. Especially not with her here.” She gestured to Colleen, who was staring silently at the street around her. “Too much mess.” Her eyes shimmered brightly for a second. “Besides, I’m not sensing any hostility.”
Rowan knew better than to doubt her abilities. Even so, he still felt uneasy. Something about the whole business just felt… wrong.
They walked into the tavern, and Wicker walked up to the bar. He said something to the bartender, who disappeared through a door. A short, scruffy faunus with greyish hair entered right after. He was well-dressed and had piercing yellow eyes. A pair of wolf-like ears were situated on his head. He banged a spoon on a glass, and all eyes turned to him. “Alright everyone, we’re closing early today. Scram!” There was some muttering and a bit of cursing, but within a few minutes the tavern was empty, save for the team, Wicker, and the newcomer.
“These are Mister Sable’s guests,” Wicker told him, and then turned to the team. “This is Gra Varg. He’s helping Mister Stitch with… security.” Varg smiled at them, and then stepped aside as two men entered the room.
The first was easily recognizable as Pyrus Stitch, with his flaming orange hair and the scars on his face which formed a gruesome grin from ear to ear. This disturbing visage was enhanced by his own rather unnerving smirk. His style of dress better fit a warlord from outside the kingdoms than a slumlord, complete with chainmail and an iron crown shaped like flames.
The second man was short, even more so than Rowan, though not as much as Varg. He was dressed in fancy clothing, with a black bowler hat to complete the ensemble. His dark violet eyes shone mischievously, and a small scar ran down his left cheek, looking more rugged than frightening. He smiled and held out his hand. “Will Sable, at your service. I’m glad you made it here in one piece.”
He sat down at a table, and gestured for them to join him. “So, mates, I think we’d best get down to business right away.”
Argo nodded. “Indeed. Time is of the essence. But first, I want you to fulfill your end of the bargain. A fifth of the final payment, as agreed.”
Sable chuckled. “Of course, of course. Varg? Fetch the crate from the back room, would you?” Varg disappeared behind a set of double doors and reappeared wheeling in a large crate marked “Gorynych Productions”.
“Wait,” Rowan asked, “what’s this? Are we being paid in studio equipment?”
“Just a cover, to more easily transport such… delicate cargo,” Sable responded, “we don’t want the coppers to get suspicious, after all.” He gestured for Varg to open the crate, which he did.
Rowan had never seen the likes of its contents before. It was packed to the brim with dust crystals, each about the size of his fist. They were in a dazzling array of types and all exquisitely cut to perfection. “Holy shit.”
“As we discussed, two and a half million lien in raw, military grade dust. Untraceable, and much more valuable to men like Hamadryas. The rest will be payed after the job is completed.”
Rowan was speechless. That amount of dust was worth a fortune, and this was only a fifth of the final payment!? What had Argo done that they needed that kind of money?
Argo nodded, satisfied. “Very well. Now to discuss the operation itself. Please fill my partners in on the details.”
Sable reached into his pocket and pulled out a scroll, which he placed on the table. It showed an antenna-like device. “This is your target. It’s an experimental weapon created by Plutonian for the Atlas government. It’s purpose is to modify grimm behavior to more easily dispatch them.”
Rowan interrupted, “I didn't know we knew enough about how those things act. We can't even keep ‘em caged, let alone control them.”
“We know very little, of course, but this little beauty works with what we do know.”
“Specifically, that the grimm are attracted to negative emotions,” Argo said. “The researchers at Plutonian believe that those types of emotions, such as fear and anger, give off a sort of ‘psychic frequency’ of a wavelength that the grimm are sensitive to.”
Ten nodded. “Sort of like a radio, but instead of electromagnetic waves, it picks up fluctuations in aura. It’s the same principle that my semblance uses to detect emotions.”
“Essentially,” Argo continued, “it’s a beacon that attracts grimm to a specific location. It then uses a series of dust-based explosives to obliterate them. Bait and a trap, in one.”
“That sounds like it could be used in some very bad ways,” Rowan pointed out. “I’m not sure if I can get behind this.”
Sable smiled. “That’s the problem, lad. The government feels the same way. My client is simply a concerned citizen who hates to see a device that could save so many lives be caught up in bureaucracy.”
Ten nodded her head. “We steal this, give it to the client, and they start putting it to use without the pesky waiting times.”
“Exactly!”
It wasn’t entirely convincing, but this kind of money might be just the kind of thing Rowan needed to turn his life around. He sighed. “Alright, what’s the plan?”
It had taken Wisteria and Hal about a week to get back to their research outpost at Mount Madness. The first few days had been the most difficult, since grimm attacks had been frequent. By the fourth day, however, they started to decline, and soon they found themselves at the base of the mountain. For there on, it was easy, at least from a combat standpoint. For whatever reason, the grimm didn’t like the mountain and steered clear of it. The climb up wasn’t too bad, not since she’d hammered rungs into the rock face to assist them. Despite his lack of combat ability, Hal was surprisingly adept at climbing, probably due to years of experience escaping various grimm and other hazards.
The research outpost was built into a small cave about a third of the way up the mountain. It wasn’t luxurious by any means, but they had enough room to conduct the various experiments that didn’t require the more advanced equipment at the observatory at the mountain’s peak.
Wisteria entered and collapsed onto the cushions that surrounded the outpost’s small fireplace. Hal followed shortly after and began to heat up a cup of hot cocoa with their portable dust stove. As he did so, he started to say “You know, I’ve been thinking…”
Wisteria cut him off. “No, Hal, we are not getting a pet puma.”
“It would be useful, and it could adapt to the altitude! But that’s not what I was going to say.” He walked over to the cushions and sat down beside her, cocoa in hand. “You’ve been a tremendous help around the lab, and honestly, I probably wouldn’t be alive without your help. I was thinking, with your permission, that I would send a message to Atlas requesting that your pay be raised to that of a full research assistant.”
She grinned at him. “That’s sweet of you, but I think I’m gonna have to decline.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t really want to deal with that kind of responsibility. I’m not a scientist. I’m just a huntress who does a bit of lab work as a hobby.”
"Right, of course.” He brushed it off. “We should take a look at the sample.” He walked over the small research station, reached into his pack, and pulled out the metal cylinder. "Our work is never done, I suppose."
“The compound is guarded by a large security force. The majority of the defenses are automated, but the ones that aren’t pose a problem.” Argo typed something into his scroll, and the holographic image of a man in a formal suit, with short blonde hair appeared. “This is our ticket in. His name is Devon Kale, the supervisor of the project. Sable and his men have been watching him for weeks.”
Sable grinned. “We know his routine inside and out. His speech patterns, his habits, even his preference in coffee.”
Argo continued. “Tenebra, I assume you’ve looked over the file?” She nodded. “Good. Tenebra and Rowan with subdue Kale and make sure he doesn’t interfere. Ten then take his shape and gets inside the compound. Meanwhile, Colleen and myself will take up position outside of the compound. I will maintain this position while she takes on the automated defenses. If she gets too close to hurting anyone, I can raise a force field to keep him or her safe. We’re doing this cleanly. No casualties.”
“Are you sure that’ll work?” Rowan interjected, “She tore that grimm apart like a wet paper towel. Are you sure you can stop her if she gets out of control?”
Argo nodded. “While transformed, she’s basically unkillable. However, she is weak to cold. As such, I’m augmenting the force fields with ice dust. The AI that runs her combat form should avoid them, and if not, the drain will force her to revert to her normal form.”
Rowan thought for a second. “And is she cool with this?”
Colleen looked at Rowan. “No one gets hurt?” Rowan looked at Argo.
“No. We will make sure of that.”
She took a deep breath. “Alright. I can do it.”
“Good,” Argo said, “meanwhile, Rowan will take down the security personnel themselves, while inside the base Tenebra makes sure they don’t call the police.” He looked Ten right in the eyes. “Non-lethally.”
She scoffed. “If you want the job done well, then I can’t be busy worrying about that.”
“You can adjust.”
“Fine. Just make sure I don’t have a dozen guards to deal with while I take out the comms.”
Argo typed in something else, and a holographic display of a large metal door appeared. “Rowan, Ten says you have decent safecracking skills?”
Rowan feigned distress. “Decent? Decent!? How could my own family say something like that! I’m an expert!”
“Think you can handle these? The doors to the vault itself use SDC 95-A locks, protected by several booby traps, including a silent alarm and electrified plating.”
Rowan looked at the schematics closely. He’d broken into the secure holds of SDC ships several times. The locks were tricky, but not impossible. “I think so, with some good tools and a few minutes.”
“Remember, if those alarms are tripped the police will be on us in a matter of minutes, probably some huntsmen too.”
“Right, right. Got it.”
“Once we’re in, we grab the device, and get out of there. By that point someone will probably have gotten a hold of the police, so we move quickly. Pyrus has given us a map of the maintenance tunnels under that sector; we get in there, and we’re home free. The police don’t know those passages half as well as the Duergar so we can lose them easily.”
Sable spoke up. “Once that’s over with, get to the Finch. I’ll send you the rendezvous coordinates, and then you’ll get the rest of your payment.”
“Any questions?” Argo asked.
“Just one,” Ten said, “what exactly are we doing with all this Dust?”
“I’ve got a private vault at the Janus Bank downtown. We’ll drop it off there, then head check in at a hotel nearby. We should get to sleep early and get up at around three in the morning.”
As the sun set, Pyrus began tidying up the bar. Their early closing may have lessened profits, but at least it had meant a smaller mess than usual. Unlike many of his peers, he felt no shame in grunt work. After all, someone had to do it, and it helped him stay in touch with his lower level workers. As he was moving the tables back into place, however, an eerie note sounded. There was something chilling about it, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. As the sound hung in the air, the bar’s lights flickered, and went out.
The door opened, and a tall silhouette was cast against the dim lights of the street. Pyrus faced the stranger. “I’m sorry sir, we’re-“
“Closed?” The deep voice was very familiar. Not a stranger then. “Not for us you aren’t, Pyrus.”
“Lerna Fen. I thought you stayed out of Atlas.”
The big man chuckled. “It’s true, the climate doesn’t agree with me. But this is a very important job, and I’m being paid a lot of money.” Lerna was a hitman, and a very good one at that. Even in the dim light Pyrus could make out the shape of his distinctive seven-branched sword.
A high-pitched voice came from the somewhere out of Pyrus’s field of vision. “We’re being paid a lot of money.” He turned to see a small girl seated at one of the tables. Her dark hair almost completely covered her eyes, which glowed a soft red in the darkness. “Not that I care, of course,” she continued. “This is mainly a pleasure trip.”
Lerna took a seat beside her, and gestured for Pyrus to do the same. “Hamadryas won’t be very happy to hear you’ve been dealing with pariahs. Hell, if it were anyone else, he’d probably want us to kill you right here.”
The girl sighed. “Unfortunately, you’re too important, so it looks like we aren’t gonna be doing this the fun way.”
“You of all people should know better, Pyrus. The Ophidian Codes were practically your invention, after all. To think that someone like you would violate them so flippantly, well, that’s a bit of a problem. Do you understand?” Lerna leaned forward. “The Codes, and the Hamadryads’ authority, they only stand because everyone agrees with them. If we let someone violate them without being punished…”
The girl grinned, and Pyrus saw that her teeth were sharpened to points. “Ooh, I have an idea! We can’t kill him. Doesn’t make anyone else off limits. What was that address again, Fen?”
“Two thirty two, Limestone Avenue.”
Even in the darkness, Pyrus’s face looked pale as a ghost. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Lerna looked offended. “Me? Oh heavens no! But I can’t always keep Piper under control, and she’s so very fond of children…”
The girl giggled. “Bones that aren’t fully fused are so much more fun to play with!”
“So, Pyrus, the way I see it, we have a couple of options. You can tell us where the boy is, and we’ll come back later to seize the amount of lien specified under the accords, or we can pay that house a little visit, and try again.” He smiled. “It’s up to you.”