G.N. Chapter 43 (Patreon)

Chapter 43 From the Breach

Old Yharnam, or at least the door leading into it, was very much like the namesake, though Jaune admittedly should have expected as much given the state of the area around the Lamp. The massive doors were made of thick aged wood barded in iron and sealed with a message that was in an appalling state.

Jaune rested a hand on the heavy-set door, inhaling and noting that even through his cowl, he could taste smoke in the air. He squinted as he eyed the paper and made out script brushed onto the parchment.

“This town is long abandoned,” he read aloud as he tried to make out the wording through the age and deterioration of the message. “Hunters… not wanted here…”

Jaune pursed his lips as he leaned back. The message's wording was peculiar and aroused his curiosity like no other. ‘Not wanted’ was a very curious phrasing, as it indicated someone who desired the absence of a Hunter.

An odd thing if the town was indeed ‘long abandoned’.

Jaune shook his head, placed his hands on either side of the note, and braced his feet on the aged stones. With a grunt, he began to push, the material of the note tearing down the middle as the large doors separated. Though heavy and requiring effort, they were nothing compared to the colossal doors of the Grand Cathedral, and with a final shove, he threw them open.

Taking a step back, Jaune was forced to clear his throat as the smoke in the air multiplied and the acrid scent of burning assaulted him even through his cowl. Jaune took a moment to take in his first real impression of Old Yharnam as he coughed lightly. The first thing he noted from the tiny glimpse was the smog, a persistent cloud of smoke that hung in the air and cast its shade on the ‘abandoned’ town.

He then looked right and spotted one possible source of such smoke: a burning crucifix.

Jaune did not waste another moment, filling his right hand with his Saw Cleaver and taking his first steps into Old Yharnam. He first made his way to the burning crucifix, the familiar sight of a blazing corpse making him feel as if he was once more back in Central Yharnam.

Even as it was wrapped in the hungering flames, Jaune could tell that the corpse was afflicted by the Beastly Scourge. He took note of the bandages wrapped about its head and felt a familiar sickness cloy beneath his heart. A stray stream of thought, wondering what effect the Blood had on this poor figure… why he took it, how much he imbibed… when the change took hold.

He needed that Chalice.

He needed answers.

Jaune turned away from the burning corpse, but he had not even taken a whole step when a voice rang out in the silence.

“You there, Hunter.”

Jaune froze, turning about. He tried to find the source of the voice but failed as the words echoed and bounced off the surrounding rooftops.

“Didn’t you see the warning?” the voice asks almost rhetorically. Jaune draws his Saw Cleaver to his chest and steps away from the burning corpse, seeking to remove himself from its light.

“Turn back at once.” Jaune crouches lower to the ground and moves to a nearby dead tree, now more confident that the voice is coming from one of the nearby structures.

“Old Yharnam, burned and abandoned by men, is now home only to beasts,” the voice explains, and Jaune can't help but think that such information may have been pertinent enough to include in the warning on the door.

Jaune looks about, trying to gauge where the speaker might be located, but it is futile with the smoke and dark of the night; even as the voice speaks, he cannot find them. “They are of no harm to those above,” the stranger utters with a degree of confidence that would be impressive if it wasn’t worrying.

“Turn back, or the Hunter will face the Hunt.”

After such an ominous proclamation, only the crackling of the surrounding fires remains; Jaune is left to consider his options as he feels… conflicted.

He takes a breath and decides to throw caution to the wind.

“I come here seeking a Holy Chalice!” Jaune calls out as loudly as he can, his voice echoing in the near silence.

There is no response.

Jaune keeps a tight reign over his frustrations.

“I have no desire to be your enemy; I have only come to attain that which I must acquire… as soon as I claim the Chalice, I will depart, leaving you and yours in peace!” Jaune counts to ten, waiting for any question, signal, or hint… but none comes; only the crackling of flames answers his declaration.

Jaune is now glad he is unaware of the speaker's location as if he did know, he would likely attempt to hurl something at them.

“You could help make this simple!” Jaune bellows, a hint of his fury slipping into his words. “If you aid me in acquiring the Chalice, I will be gone all the quicker!”

The speaker does not respond to his words, and Jaune drives his fist back into the thick bow of the slightly scorched tree he pressed himself against.

“… Fine, we do it the hard way,” Jaune rumbled, moving away from his cover and cautiously looking for any signs of danger.

He approached a bridge, his eyes dipping to the right, allowing him to see that the hamlet was indeed built into the valley and that he would have to traverse downward. Around him, more bodies burned, painting a picture that was reminiscent of Central Yharnam.

‘Is this what it will look like come tomorrow…’ Jaune wondered, spotting the still burning corpses and the prevalent fog of smoke that added a layer of grey to everything.

He took a step onto the bridge and froze as he heard the sound of something scraping on the stonework of the structure.

Something he was familiar with.

The soft clack and drag of claws Had Jaune sighing as he reeled his arm back and hissed a curse.

A form, clearly beastly in nature, with tufts of fur visible through even the concealing smoke, left Jaune with no allusions to the situation.

“Home to Beasts indeed,” Jaune spat.

The beastly infected was snarling, its misshapen mouth now akin to a stunted snout as its pointed teeth were flashed in a clear threat. Jaune felt his lips peel back beneath his cowl as he let the creature continue to approach, his feet planted firmly as he waited.

He knew what came next, and the Beast did not disappoint.

It lunged.

He swung.

And the Hunt resumed anew.

YVYVYVYVY

He had thought the night finished, believed that even though it was not nearly the success he had hoped for, it could at least be regarded as ‘over’. But that had been optimism speaking, hope a dreadfully treacherous feeling that Adam had lapsed into feeling in the wake of their ‘success’.

Then, he discovered his comrade's corpses.

The radio silence had been worrying, and they had raced down to the level where the hostages had been corralled. His thoughts treacherously went over his decision to leave only a measly single guard to watch over them. They had truthfully not been part of the plans, one of those slight surprises bound to happen in every plan.

He needed to hold the exits as they needed a safe extraction route, but the group they had encountered was nothing more than a liability.

‘Should have shot them all,’ a rueful part of him thought as he glanced back at the body bag held by Gekko.

Truthfully, had they all been human, he might have done so if only to remove an unknown from the situation. But they were just civilians, men, women, children, and most importantly, there was Faunus among their ranks. Unarmed as they were and with them being suitably cowed, he had left them under guard and pressed on.

A singular guard.

A Chimera, one of his own, trained by and alongside him.

His head had been hanging on by a mere strip of flesh, the rest of his neck split in two and even his vertebrae cleft apart.

His gun hadn’t even fired, likely meaning he had been taken by surprise, the injury to his neck a clear sign of some bladed weapon.

The discovery of the following two corpses had him holding onto his composure by the thinnest of threads.

The area near the elevator was one of carnage, and there were signs of heavy foot traffic through the area, bloodied footprints leading to the stairs and vomit on the floor. Likely, the escaped hostages were unprepared for the sight, and their stomachs rebelled on them.

Adam had seen worse… but that did not detract from the unpleasant sight.

Blood coated near every surface, from the roof to the walls, and naturally, the floor was almost entirely marred by the substance.

He had left two of his guards to secure the exit.

Now, they were dead.

One was decapitated, their head having been left abandoned adjacent to a fern, their mask still concealing their face.

Their body… their body was atop the other guards, its chest riddled with bullets and ribs utterly destroyed. The left side of their chest was caved in a dent on their back, leaving the structure of their torso permanently disfigured.

The other guard was one of only three female Chimera he had brought for the assault.

She was pinned beneath the headless corpse, and unlike the others, Adam could see her unmasked face.

… Or what was left of it.

It had been split in half, mask sliding aside to reveal her now dead slit eyes. Her brain was splattered over the floor, becoming a solid, sludge-like mess in her hair. Her arm was also mangled, nearly being shorn in two but managing to remain attached to her body.

Unlike the other two, she had put up a fight; her gun had been fired and her knife drawn.

Adam had paid the cratered wall a look as he left and felt a wave of loathing that had him clenching his fists so tightly that his gloves split.

He couldn’t be sure, but Adam was willing to bet they had all been felled by the same individual. Each of the dead had similar injuries, and two of them were taken by surprise, with the third being dispatched soon after failing to kill the attacker.

But the body-sized crater and the damage to the second corpse made Adam furious.

These were obvious signs of the attacker's strength, so much so that it served to make one think.

It was hard to picture even one of his Chimera being taken out so quickly by some stray security or even less likely by the hostages that had been detained in a locked room.

But three of them…

As the others made ready to depart, it was he who went back to the room where they had secured the hostages, a niggling curiosity dragging him back.

A glance at the door showed it busted inwards, the lock warped, and the door splintered from a massive impact.

Shaped like a foot…

In the elevator, Adam was aware of the tension as they descended. But as much as he wanted to address it, to put a halt to it at least until they were clear and back at the Bastion headquarters… he couldn’t.

Because he had fucked up.

He had missed someone, amongst the rabble most likely, so focused on his goal that they had slipped under his detection.

If he had to guess… there had been an Aura user amongst them.

And Adam failed to notice.

The cost… three of his people.

It was only when the elevator shook that Adam was wrenched from his internal beratement to focus on the situation at hand.

“What the fuck was that?” One of the Chimera muttered.

Adams's thoughts were very much in line with their own, and he soon had a radio in hand relaying his enquiry to the Chimera stationed outside.

“Report.”

The response was nearly instant: “We don’t know, sir. There was an explosion of some sort, a big one. It's not close, but it's probably within the city- heads up, police have arrived, sir. The area is going live.”

“Understood, we are en route. Pull-“

Adam was cut off as another voice barked through, “Sir! There is a Siren!” Then, a strange keening noise came through the radio, leaving Adam pondering.

“Siren?”

“Sir, the cops are freaking out and- there’s an alert, hold on…” Adam waited, looking over his shoulder to glimpse at Gekko, noticing his lieutenant had tensed. Adam was about to enquire, but the radio was again projecting before he could.

“Sir! It’s a Breach! Bastion’s been breached; there are Grimm in the city!”

Adam froze.

His whole body paralysed as the words registered with him, and he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.

“A Breach…” Adam whispered.

“Sir, the police are pulling back; there is… sir, it's already turning to chaos out here. We have reports coming in, and even the police channels are going crazy,” the same voice reported.

Adam had to stop himself from crushing the radio in his grasp. Instead, he lashed out with his fist, effortlessly sinking it into the elevator door and mangling the metal.

“What the hell is going on!” Adam roared in the confined space, his eyes flicking to the number above the door, slowly lessening as they descended. Realising time was a factor, and that he needed to get ahead of the situation, Adam took a breath before smacking the lobby button.

“Change of plans,” Adam said into the radio. “Bring the transports to the front entrance; we are forgoing stealth. I want everyone brought in, everyone.”

Adam turned to his Chimera, his eyes glossing over them all as he cursed inside his head for not bringing any locals for the attack.

Speaking into the radio, Adam hurriedly ordered, “Contact the HQ; I want the city's evac sites and emergency protocols in hand ASAP. Then I want to know where the fuck this Breach is!”

The elevator dinged, and Adam marched out with his hand on Wilt's hilt as he took point, but it was unnecessary as any resistance had already fled. The wail of the city emergency siren rang in his ears as he marched to the steps of the building.

He led the attack survivors to the heavily armoured transport, their armed group barely being spared a glance as people quickly fled out of buildings.

As soon as Adam was in the back of the armoured transport, he had a Scrollpad in his hand and Rajah's face looking at him.

“Sir,” Rajah greeted quickly and succinctly.

“The Breach, where is it?” Adam demanded as his men loaded into the transports.

“Reports indicate a large Breach on the Southwest side of the city… it isn't good, sir. We already have reports of heavy Grimm presence,” Rajah explained, his face showing his stress.

Adam didn’t miss the underlying message. Their action tonight had stirred up more than a little bit of negativity. If there was an area in the city that the Grimm would be lured to…

“How proximal is that to us?” Adam asked, handing the Scroll to a Chimera as he checked his ammo.

“The studio building is positioned rather centrally, but you are still technically in the northwestern sector… our headquarters is adjacent in the north-central sector,” Rajah finished.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, sir… we are all in a lot of danger,” Rajah finished as he glanced away from the screen to address someone else.

“… Do you need to evacuate?” Adam asked, turning over how complicated things would get if their evacuation route out of the city became unusable.

“No, the headquarters is a forgotten Great War bunker. It should be more than able to protect the Cell, and we are likely better served by remaining here than fighting the crowds… but things will be… messy.”

Adam understood. Breaches were never a pretty matter, and the panic and crowds were as lethal as the Grimm in the beginning, but as the chaos built, so did the Grimm's numbers. Then there was the Tipping Point…

If a Breach could be suppressed, the worst would be the chaos of the residents and the inevitable issues that follow a wide-scale panic and evacuation.

But if it couldn’t… if the Breach managed to overwhelm the city's defences, then that is when the genuine problems began, the aptly named Tipping Point.

It was a horrible amalgamation of traits that added to the worst-case scenario following a Breach. The panic of the city fed the Grimm, and in turn, the Grimm became a more prominent threat until it was no longer a simple Breach but an incursion. At this point, the casualties are sure to rise to the thousands, and the city itself becomes at risk.

In some ways, breaches were worse than simple horde attacks as they were far more surprising. That surprise made them challenging to handle. Assuming the tipping point could be avoided, they were still manageable for larger settlements.

Adam couldn’t help but recall that Bastion was no stranger to such things. Some years back, it had endured a Breach that turned bad. A relief team from Vale, who had taken command of the city, saved it then.

Adam couldn’t remember all the facts, but they had succeeded, and their efforts and tactics had been adopted on a near-global scale for all major city settlements. They had even led to reforms in the Breach protocols for capital cities. Due to their heavy implementation in Mantle, Adam was aware of them, the plans having been part of a data package they had stolen at some point.

Adam dreaded the idea of this Breach worsening to a degree comparable to the last one that befell Bastion.

Back then, they had nearly written Bastion off entirely.

If it were not for the ‘Booming Salvation’ and his unorthodox but highly effective methods, then the world might have lost another major settlement to the Grimm.

If Adam and his entourage were caught up in a situation of equal severity, the consequences could be dire. The Bastion Cell would likely wind up endangered or exposed, and the entire Valian branch could be at risk. It was a matter of necessity that Adam held the reigns of command close to his chest, but it also meant that the branch's ability as a unified whole mainly lay within his own two hands.

Without him at the head… all his work would crumble.

Adam hissed through his teeth, “Withdraw your people in the field, but do not risk the base. We are en route, and we will be coming in fast and hard. Be ready to receive us, as we will likely not have much chance to use discretion.”

Rajah only nodded, grabbing someone who ran past and instructing them quickly to prep all the tunnel entrances. “The time for discretion has come and gone. Focus on bringing yourself and your Faunus back. The city will have more important matters to handle for now.”

“Understood; stand by for our arrival,” Adam finished, disconnecting the call and handing the large Scroll pad back to the Chimera that passed it to him. He shuffled to the front of his transport, leaning into the driver's bay, the drivers addressing him immediately.

“Get us back to the headquarters, stop for nothing… and radio ahead to our people… I want the other transports prepped and ready to go,” Adam added in a quieter tone.

“At once, sir,” the co-driver nodded, pulling the radio from its cradle while the other driver began to pull out onto the street.

As Adam retook his seat, he glanced at the front of their armoured vehicle, seeing the chaos slowly overtaking the streets outside. He observed wearily as the growing population of panicked residents pooling out of buildings formed into streams of people.

Some would exit the buildings only immediately to take off in a dead sprint; others with families would move in an organised but hasty pack. Adam recognised these as the smart and the experienced who knew well the true terror of the Grimm and the importance of evacuation.

Then, there were the others who stopped to grab things, tried to find vehicles, or meandered on their way.

Adam looked out just long enough to hear the screams begin, and though he didn’t see the cause, he was well aware of its source.

The Grimm had arrived.

YVYVYVYVY

As ever-present as the Grimm are on Remnant, they very rarely approach major settlements. Those few stragglers who do have very short life expectancies and are likely not even registered by the population. Capital cities were even worse in this regard. With their colossal size and many districts, someone could go their entire life without seeing a Grimm.

Not everyone is so lucky, however.

Ayame was not city-born; her family wasn’t even originally from Vale, and when they came to the country, they could not find a home in the capital. With no work, they also had no food, and as their situation became more and more dire, they were forced to leave.

Her father had found employment for both himself and his wife, Ayame’s mother, in a caravan that was willing to take on an additional body in the form of his infant daughter. Ayame had spent the first few years of her life growing up in that caravan, and in some ways, those days had been some of the best. She had many beautiful memories from that time.

They were all tainted, though, by the memory of the day everything fell apart.

The same day, she lost her father.

So when Ayame heard that siren, she froze, her whole body going rigid as those horrid memories brutally thrust themselves into the forefront of her mind. Ice ran down her spine as her hands shook, and her legs felt as if the bones had been stripped from them.

In that awful moment, all Ayame was able to feel was fear.

She could remember with horrible clarity the sounds of people screaming, of guns firing ineffectually as the smell of smoke filled the air. The sound of inhuman, monstrous growls becoming increasingly frequent as more and more of them arrived.

She remembered her mother pulling her under an overturned vehicle cabin… she believed it was the lead truck. The ground was cold; she remembered her hands clutching into the soil, the chill in her fingers despite the humid air she was gasping in.

The feel of her mother's hand over her mouth, muffling her sobs.

Feet the colour of pitch, tipped with bone-white claws prowling forward.

A mask… bone white, eyes a fierce glowing red, teeth stained and sharp.

The sound of shattering glass snapped her back to reality. She looked past her shaking hands and trembling knees to see the floor around her feet covered in spilt champagne and broken glass.

She stared until she was staring at nothing, frozen, still, listening to the wail outside, the piercing siren that promised death.

“Hey, what’s that noise- the drinks!” the guest who had ordered the very expensive bubbly cried out. “What the hell- don’t run away!”

Ayame ignored him, bolting out the door, barely restraining herself as the urge to scream tempted her.

Her mind was awash with a primal need.

She had to get her mother.

She ran down the halls, ripping her Scroll from her pocket and fumbling with the device as she moved as quickly as possible. Already, she saw doors open and heard panicked voices in rooms as she bolted towards the elevator.

‘No! The stairs,’ Ayame jerked, moving instead to the doors to the stairwell, practically shouldering it open as she opened up her contacts.

“Woah! Hey- Ayame?”

“Move!” Ayame grunted, rolling over and past the cleaning cart as she began to race up the stairs, hoping her mother was still delivering fresh sheets.

“What's wrong!” the person she had barrelled past called out.

“Grimm!” Ayame screamed back, uncaring that her voice cracked as she let the cursed word past her lips.

She got halfway up the stairs when her Scroll began to ring.

Ayame was by no means athletic, but that didn’t mean she was out of shape. Even still, she had never wished more than when she was racing up those stairs that she had done something like the track in school.

The call connected.

“Ayame!”

“Mum! What floor are you on!” Ayame yelped into the phone, tripping on a stair.

“Thirty-Eight!”

“Stay there. I’m coming to you,” Ayame panted, speeding up as she ignored the burning in her legs.

“I will… people are starting to panic-“

“Get in a room; stay out of the hall!” Ayame ordered, willing her feet to move quicker. “I’m nearly there, Mum.”

“Okay.”

Eleven floors up, Ayame slammed open the door to finally spot the linen cart and felt her tired body re-energise. She ignored the building group of people by the elevator and instead started going door to door, banging on them desperately as she cried out. “Mum! Mother! Tara! Tara Cheeks!”

She went from door to door, all but kicking in the already open ones.

“Ayame?”

She whipped around and saw her mother. Her face was pale white, and she was trembling, standing in the doorway to a room. Ayame wasted no time hurling herself into her mother's arms, holding her as tight as she could as she swallowed down a groan of relief. Her mother didn’t stop shaking, and Ayame couldn’t blame her as her own body felt like a live wire of nerves and anxious energy.

“Mum,” Ayame breathed, taking a step back from the woman, looking her over to be sure she was alright. She spared a second to turn off her Scroll, as she would need to make the most of its battery considering the night they were in for.

“The alarm-“

“I know, we need to go now,” Ayame quickly nodded, taking a step back, but she was shoved back into her mother as someone raced by.

“Ayame-“

“I’m alright,” Ayame comforted her mother. Turning back to the hall, she saw people cramming around the elevator, the sound of angry voices growing steadily louder. She would have ignored them… but they also blocked the stairwell, which was a problem.

“That isn’t good…”

“No, it’s not,” Tara agreed, gently pulling her daughter back into the room and kicking the door closed as she did.

“Mum, we need to go,” Ayame argued, resisting her mother's pulling.

“No, we need supplies,” Tara argued, quickly grabbing a plastic bag and filling it. Before Ayame could speak, her mother was already grabbing water from the minifridge and snacks off the counter in the bag.

Ayame nodded, realising her mother was right; they didn’t know what was in store for them, and it was better to be prepared for the worst. They could wind up stuck in a safe room or in a rescue camp for who knows how long. It would pay to have some things on hand in case things didn’t go their way.

‘Knowing our luck… we should keep an eye out for a weapon,’ Ayame thought, looking around the room for other valuable things.

“Is this room occupied,” Ayame called out to her mother.

“Checked out today.”

“Fuck,” Ayame cursed; that meant that the room would not have much in the way of removable goods.

Moving to the bathroom, Ayame snorted as she spotted the freshly deposited toilet paper. While not as valuable as something like batteries, she still wasn’t going to turn it down by any means. She carried the rolls back to her mum's bag and dropped them in, earning an appreciative nod from her mother.

“Turn the TV on; the emergency alert should be live telling us where the Breach is,” Tara called over her shoulder as she continued to scour the room.

Ayame was quick to obey, unsurprised when the slate grey screen flared to life with a scrolling red alert across the centre. She watched as the screen changed and showed the district where the Breach had occurred.

“North-western…”

“What was that, honey?” Tara asked, not having heard Ayame’s whisper.

“The Breach… it's here, it's our district,” Ayame hissed.

Tara’s eyes widened, the book in her hand falling to the ground as she looked at the screen and saw the evacuation map. Then she was moving; Ayame watched as her mother lunged to the window and closed the curtains forcefully.

“Mum-“

“We are leaving; grab the bag,” Tara said, still clutching the curtain fabric. Ayame didn’t miss the shake in them as she dug her nails into the fabric.

Ayame didn’t bother to speak; they needed to go. She didn’t know where the Breach was in their district, but it was still far too close for comfort. They needed to evacuate out of the area with all due haste.

Ayame and Tara had experienced the Grimm, and with said history came a specific understanding that made the idea of safety far more challenging. The Secure Points littered throughout the district would not suffice for either of them.

They would head for the next district, and only then would they move to a secure point. Only then would they feel safe, with the entire might of the city roused to halt the spread of the Grimm and many Huntsman around to hunt down the priority monsters.

They opened the door to their room and found mingling chaos in the corridor as bodies, bags and luggage filled it almost entirely.

People were still trying to make use of the elevator for some reason.

“Idiots!” Tara yelled, but her voice was lost in the crowd's din.

“We need to get to get to the stairs!” Ayame yelled over the noise, grabbing her mother's hand firmly as they began to push their way through.

It was terrifying, the clumped mass of people pushing and shoving as they all tried to reach the same destination. Tara and Ayame tried their best but lacked the strength to push through, so they struggled and squeezed past the squashed-together bodies.

Then the screaming started.

It was as if, at once, they went from being in a crowd to being in some giant ambling beast as the bodies around them moved. Ayame wrapped her arm around her mother to hold her tight and not lose her in the crowd, Tara copying her as they looked around in confusion.

It was Ayame who saw it first.

The crowd as one shifted for the briefest of moments, like parting waves in the sea; the crowd separated for an instant. Ayame beheld the source of the panic with a cold, terrified certainty that all her nightmares were real.

It took her a moment to realise what she saw; by the time she did, the swelling crowd had concealed it from her eyes once more.

But that brief glimpse was enough to make her heart rise up her throat.

It was a Nevermore, with its beak sunk into the chest of some poor man, its large pitch-black wings flapping chaotically, splattering blood around like a demonic sprinkler as it thrashed.

And then she made sense of the screaming.

“Grimm!”

“Oh, gods!”

“Run!”

“Move!”

“Outta my way!”

“The stairs!”

“Ayame!”

The last shout came with a strong tug on her back and an elbow to the solar plexus that left her utterly winded. Ayame stumbled, gagging as the air was thrust from her lungs. She closed her eyes, a silent, pained groan leaving her.

She was being dragged; then she was falling, her shoulder bounced on the floor, the roar of panic quietening as she heard a loud slam. She opened her eyes, blinking away tears as she tried to right her breathing and fix her winded state. Her blurry gaze spotted her mother hurriedly locking the door, thrusting her back against it.

However, it did little to stop the thuds and bangs against it as the screaming outside became… worse.

She realised then that the tears in her eyes weren’t entirely from the shot to her chest.

“Ayame, baby, my girl, are you all right?” Tara asked in a panic, looking her over desperately.

Ayame saw the fear in her mother's eyes and was once more presented with the overwhelming urge to give up. She wanted to cry, to say no, to crawl into her mother's lap and sob.

But the screams outside killed that idea in the crib.

“I’m good,” Ayame wheezed, coughing as she got back to her knees, her chest throbbing as she got her breathing back in order. She looked at her mother, saw the same panic in her eyes as she felt, and gave her best smile.

“All good,” Ayame doubled down.

“… Good,” Tara nodded, giving her best smile though it was shallow-looking.

Mother and daughter stared at each other, words utterly insufficient to communicate the utter deluge of emotion both felt. Their continued silence left them listening to the muffled screams outside the room, thuds and bangs of bodies… and other things.

A nightmarish screech made both women flinch, Tara’s nails digging into the wood of the door as she paled dramatically.

“We can't stay here,” Ayame mumbled, but she did not move to stand or go to the door.

“No… no, we can’t,” Tara tearfully agreed, her brave face faltering.

“… Can you hear-“

“Everything… I can hear everything,” Tara muttered, looking over her shoulder at the door with great dread that made perfect sense to Ayame.

The noises had died down a lot, but… not all of them.

“It’s still out there?”

“Yes.”

“… The people?” Ayame asked, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Panicking, fleeing… dying,” Tara answered, the last word coming out weakly.

Ayame stilled.

“… We need to move; Nevermore, always arrive first,” Tara whispered, her voice low.

Ayame looked to her mother and saw in her eyes a firmness, a steel that had not been there before.

She envied her mother that.

“But it-”

“Better one, Grimm, then however many will show up if we stay here,” Tara shook her head, getting back up to her feet.

Ayame didn’t have time to respond to her mother’s logic before being yanked up and pulled behind her mother. Tara was pressed against the door, her chestnut-coloured ear pressed to the door and the other twitching.

“… Okay, we need to move straight for the stairs and grab the supplies… we might need to cut our losses and find somewhere to hide out if we are too far behind the evacuation,” Tara whispered, keeping her ear pressed to the door.

“The Nevermore?” Ayame asked, proud she kept the tremble from her voice.

“We run straight for the stairs and close the door behind us. At best, it will stop it; at worst, it buys us time and breaks its line of sight… It might not pursue with others still on this floor,” Tara finished her words regretfully.

Ayame grimaced; average Grimm were not intelligent… why bother chasing difficult prey when there are others nearby?

“R-right… you lead,” Ayame gestured with her head, grabbing their bag in a bone-tight grip.

Tara smiled almost entirely for Ayame’s benefit. “Stay close; everything is going to be fine.”

Ayame tried not to remember that her mother had said something similar to that another time, and it had been a bald-faced lie.

Tara listened for a handful of seconds before she opened the door with all the care of a surgeon. Her hands were steady as she applied just enough pressure to move the handle. Slowly, the door opened.

There was no creaking or squeaking from the hinges because Mr Keppel would not stand for squeaky doors, and Ayame was beyond grateful.

The smell hit them instantly.

Death, blood, the faint trace of something foul.

Ayame breathed shallowly, trying not to imbibe too much of the hall's aroma as her mother peered to the left.

Ayame watched as her mother’s spine became rigid. She froze, staring down the left-hand side of the hall. She reached out to touch her but was stopped as her mother raised a single hand, holding up three fingers.

Ayame tried to figure out what the silent signal meant, but then her mother lowered her finger. Ayame’s puzzlement lasted another half-second before her mother lowered another finger, and a panic-like anxiety wrapped around her chest.

When the last finger went down, Ayame moved so fast she nearly slammed into her mother's back, but she quickly caught her balance.

Then they were running.

‘What a fucking nightmare,’ Ayame thought, looking at the hall, the clear signs of the Grimm’s work apparent all over.

The crowds work, too.

Ayame turned her eyes away from the trampled dead, trying to focus on running as she looked around the massacre, careful to step over bodies, her eyes darting to and fro. The walls and floor were decorated in red. Red smears, red splatters… red handprints; it was macabre and matched the floor, which followed the trend with footsteps in the same frightening shade.

She nearly screamed when she spotted the blood-soaked Grimm, its gaze locked on herself and her mother. Ayame stumbled, something with give caught under her foot, but she didn’t fall as her mother reached back and tugged her forward, forcing her to remain upright.

The Grimm, the gore-coated Nevermore, gave a scratching shriek as its wings spread, and something fell from its beak. Ayame tried not to think about the thing that fell.

She didn’t want to consider the small arm or who it might belong to.

She didn’t want to think of the pile of dead the bird was sitting on or why they were piled in such a way.

The Grimm was in the air. They had reached the door, and Ayame was already clutching it and tugging on it with all her strength.

The sound of large flapping wings only enhanced her desperation as she wrenched the door open.

They fell through it, someone screaming as claws raked over the door's surface.

Ayame only realised it was herself as she lunged at the open door and began tugging on it with all the strength she had in her body. It was nearly closed when the Nevermore appeared, flapping and clawing at the door’s frame, its massive wings beating noisily. Knife-like feathers impaled the wood as it tried to reach them, its bloodied beak jabbing through like a spear.

Ayame screamed as she was forced to jump back lest her eye be impaled by said stabbing beak.

Then Ayame’s mother was there.

Her mother had a briefcase in hand and was swinging it down with a war cry that was a vicious amalgamation of fear and rage. The edge of the case cracked into the bone-white mask of the Nevermore, the bird Grimm squawking as it was bashed over the head. But it did not relent, nor did Ayame’s mother, who continued to punish its vicious probes through the gap in the door.

Tara screamed out as she brought her improvised weapon down across the frenzied bird again and again, the crack of the case ringing out as it interrupted the Grimm’s screeches over and over.

Ayame slammed her shoulder into the door so hard her arm gave a throbbing ache in response, but the pain was forgotten in the face of imminent danger.

But despite her efforts, the door wouldn’t close; something stopped it.

Ayame looked down and saw why, her mouth going dry at the sight of a bloodied, mangled arm stopping the door from closing.

A scream from her mother snapped her back to reality, and Ayame, without caution or real thought, threw herself down on the arm.

“Ayame!”

Tara’s scream of panic had the effect of causing the Nevermore to turn its attention down towards her as she was trying to force the arm out the door with manic desperation. Her body was blocking the door, the heavy wood bashing into her hip as the Grimm continued to try and gain entrance to murder them both.

But Ayame was so distracted she didn’t see the Nevermore dive at her.

She did, however, feel her mother tug her back, Ayame rolling with the motion and thrusting the bloodied arm out and upward.

The Nevermore didn’t care as its talons sunk deep into bloodied warm meat, and it pulled back with all its strength, screeching triumphantly.

Tara threw her whole body into the door, slamming it closed with a crash of finality.

They were safe… for now.

Ayame looked at her mother, saw her shaking, tear-stained face… and promptly threw up.

Her mother was quickly there for her, checking her for injuries, her eyes rapidly focusing on the sight of three deep gashes on her forearm from where the Nevermore had managed to catch her. They were bleeding, and Ayame winced as the stinging pain flared when she rose to stand, but she would have to ignore them for now.

They needed to escape.

Ayame gently pushed her mother back, “We need to go; we can worry about the arm later.”

Tara frowned, unhappy that her daughter seemed to be shrugging off her injury, but she couldn’t argue with such sound logic.

“We need to hurry; if a Nevermore is already here, then-“

“The others aren’t far behind, I know. Let’s go, we can head out through the kitchen. Less foot traffic and… the main streets are probably a bad idea by this point,” Ayame planned, cringing at the mental image of the main street outside the Hotel.

The hallway they had just escaped would be like a preview compared to the horror that awaited them outside.

Ayame looked down the many flights of stairs, countless guests rushing down them, flooding in from other floors, eager to escape. She spotted some fellow staff amongst the fleeing numbers and a few bodies who showed signs of injury.

‘From Grimm or…’ Ayame thought, considering the chaos likely occurring throughout the building. She shook it off and began to make her way to the stairs with her mother, her mind awash with panic and fear, her thoughts tripping over one another as she fought against the stress.

Running down the stairs was nerve-wracking. The Cheek women were shoved and pushed against, but Ayame was well past the point of meekness at this point and elbowed bodies aside as she made a path.

Her mother was much the same, kneeing some idiot who tried to barge past her to get upstairs.

They moved lower and lower, but they weren’t quick enough.

A blur to Ayame’s left had her freeze in place, her head twisting to make sense of the blur she saw on from her periphery.

The sound of a wet smack against the ground floor made her shiver as chills raced down her spine; a scream, high-pitched and horrified, followed the noise but was soon joined by others.

“Get back!”

Ayame was tugged away from the rail just in time as another blur rushed past.

This one didn’t hit the ground, though; instead, it was veering off and tugging a screaming woman a floor down over the railing of the stairs to plummet to her death. It was another Nevermore, or maybe the same one.

Whatever the case, Ayame panicked and was ready to sprint down the stairs when she heard screaming from down below change, followed by a twisted howl.

That was a noise she would never forget.

“Beowolves,” Ayame squeaked, her throat closing up as terror constricted about her like a wet wrap.

Ayame didn’t know what happened next. Once more, she felt her body being shoved and pushed around and felt nails dig into her shoulder as she was pulled towards a door. It was a blur, but she remembered seeing her mother throw a body out of the way as the sound of growls and screaming became even louder.

The Grimm were hunting, closing in, and unbidden tears began to build in the edges of Ayame’s eyes as the screams became those of a night long past.

Then, they were in a well-lit hallway. She looked at the numbers on the doors and felt an odd sense of familiarity. She was still being tugged backward, people were pooling in the doorway, and there were noises that made her shiver following them.

“Ayame! I need you to run, baby; get on your feet!” Tara shrieked, still dragging her daughter further from the stairwell. Ayame, listening to her mother, got her feet under her and pulled away from her mother towards the elevator, trying to get away from the Grimm-infested stairwell.

Then, the elevator dinged.

Ayame barely heard it, but it was a good thing she did as it saved her life.

Looking toward the light above the doorway allowed her to see the horror scene behind the doors as they were opening. She saw through the split in the opening doors, the blood-smeared walls, the disembowelled corpses, and the pool of gore on the floor.

Standing in the centre of it all was a towering black beast decorated in viscous crimson.

Ayame screamed, fear and terror squeezing her lungs empty as she hurled herself at her mother, tackling her away from the elevator.

Unaware of the danger, others did not have a chance to avoid the threat and quickly suffered for their ignorance. A portly man with a round gut caught the brunt of the monster's wrath as it exploded out of the elevator and bit deeply into the area where his neck met his shoulders.

His screams became a gurgle as blood filled his airway and spewed out of his mouth; the Beowolf stood tall on two legs, pinning the man in its massive claws as it mauled him. It whipped its head back, nearly decapitating the now dying man before hurling his body away as it eyed fresh prey, blood dripping from its maw.

Ayame couldn’t think; her heart was like a hummingbird in her chest, and her whole body felt chilled with goosebumps awash across her skin.

It was that night all over again.

She was small and terrified, hiding beneath an overturned truck, half-submerged in mud, choking on the smells of devastation.

Death prowled forward in the shape of an abdominal Grimm.

The thing locked eyes with her.

She heard her mother scream, her only family left, throwing her body over her own, putting herself between the Grimm and Ayame, who was once more a terrified little girl.

The beast fell to all fours, its curved claws biting deep into that carpet, its bloodied bone white mask gleaming in the lights as it reared back. Its frame was massive, seeming to take up the whole hall, white spikes jutting out its spine, and the midnight black fur was oily and slick with viscera.

Ayame was petrified as it let out a gurgling growl and opened its bony jaws wide.

It lunged, and Ayame could do nothing but close her eyes and clutch at the fabric of her mother's uniform as death came for them both.

…

But it didn’t.

Ayame opened her eyes by the narrowest breadth and felt her stomach drop as she nearly swallowed her tongue.

The Beowolf’s bloodied muzzle is a mere inch from the back of her mother's head.

But it was still, unmoving, almost statuesque.

Still terrified, she watched as the light faded from its eyes, and the skull-like head appeared genuinely dead. But it didn’t drop, still petrified on the cusp of wrapping its fangs around her mother’s head, and so Ayame did not so much as breathe, afraid of what might happen.

“Jaune, what are you- oh! Hey, it’s the room service lady,” a voice, a girl's one, spoke up behind the still Beowolf.

Ayame was now very confused, ‘why aren’t I dead?’

Then the Beowolf moved, and Ayame made a noise of pure terror as she squirmed back while still clutching her mother.

But her fear was pointless as she saw what was behind the Grimm.

It was him.

The guy from the pool, one of his sisters standing next to him, holding the other sister's hand.

Jaune Arc.

He was even bigger than she remembered, his blue eyes piercing. In his hand was a fire axe firmly lodged into the back of the Grimm's skull. Black ichor leaked around where the weapon was embedded in the monster's head, holding it off the floor. His bare arms were covered in now evaporating Grimm blood… and normal blood.

Her vision blurred by tears moved to his arms, and through the lens of her terror-sourced tears, she could have sworn the ink on his arms writhed over his flesh.

He didn’t speak, instead driving his foot into the back of the Grimm, kicking it off the axe, its enormous body falling to the ground limp and dead. Ayame stared at it, utterly overwhelmed as she tried to regain a sense of the world.

Then he was in front of her again.

“I need you to move.”

Ayame blinked; her mother moved in her arms, looking back and letting out a squeak as she saw the tall man for the first time with the axe resting on his shoulder and his hair slicked back. Only the squeezing pressure of her mother brought Ayame back to her senses and allowed her to respond.

“What?”

The man tilted his head to the side. “I need to get in,” he said, nodding to the wall behind them.

Ayame turned and saw that she wasn’t pressed against a wall but a door.

She looked at the numbers.

And let out a wet laugh that was nothing but pure nerves.

24-3.

It was his room, the one he was staying in with his sisters.

“Ayame?” Tara spoke up, still shaking as she clutched at her daughter, looking between the very tall blond and her laughing child.

“Oh shit… he broke her,” the girl to the tall man's right muttered.

“Sis, be nice,” the girl in blue chided.

Ayame stopped laughing and locked eyes with the man, who she now realised had blood in his hair. She stood shakily, moving to the side of the door, her grip on her mother's shirt not slacking for a second.

She could still hear screams and panic, and the stairwell door was wide open. Everything was going to hell. But watching the tall blond calmly open his door and direct his sisters inside somehow made all the other stuff feel so far away.

“Hey, you coming?”

Ayame jolted before looking back to the open door, where one of the girls, the one with a strip of colour in her hair, was waving them in.

Ayame’s eyes travelled back towards Jaune’s own, finding any form of indecision succinctly removed.

She pulled her mother inside, “Thank you I-… We are really grateful, just- thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” the sister with the coloured strip in her hair smiled.

Ayame was quickly ushered in. As she sat in one of the chairs and watched the siblings move around gathering things, she felt something stir in her mind.

It was an odd thought that managed to squeak through the haze of fear.

‘Whose blood is in his hair?’