Fable, A Tale Forgotten in Time [Chapter Three]

by Tristan C.K.

“No, please! Please, please, please.” My throat is raw from my hysterical voice as I reach out to her with the remnants of my ruined body. ‘She can’t leave, not so soon’.

Smiles
I’m up before they enter the inn, clutching one of my Fangs as I listen carefully. To their credit the six of them are as quiet as a breath of wind. If they hadn't of spooked some beloved soul in the streets below I'm sure they would've gotten a lot closer before I would have detected them. I quickly rush to the miss’s side, making sure to keep the creaking of the floorboards to a minimum, and nudge her awake. Her startling golden eyes snap open instantly. She looks to me, currently signaling for her to stay quiet. The miss nods in understanding and a moment later she’s on her feet, looping her swords sheath into her belt.
I signal for her to stay quiet and then hold up six fingers. Scratch that, seven fingers. She quickly begins to sign back to me with questions, relying on my heightened senses to give her an accurate picture of the situation.
‘All armed, highly trained, highly coordinated,’ I signal. ‘Moving fast.’
‘Is there anyone else in the inn?’, she signals.
I shut my eyes tight and pour all my focus into my hearing. Besides the faint whispering footsteps of our new friends, and the distant noises of pests scampering through the village, all I can hear is the obnoxiously loud snoring of the inn keep downstairs. I signal this to her.
She begins to draw her sword but I stop her, placing my hand on her wrist. She looks at me questioningly.
‘We need information,’ I signal. ‘Dead men tend not to be very cooperative.’ I holster my own weapon before I remove my jacket and loosen my tie a bit more. ‘Stay here.’ I see she's about to start arguing so, before she can get a word out, I quickly phase through the wall.
From the dark and narrow hallway I now find myself in I'm able to hear a faint muffled grunt of annoyance through the wall behind me. A sly chuckle escapes from my mouth before I'm a able to stop it.
From the floor below I hear the six invaders stop suddenly. I freeze as I realize why they've stopped. They're listening for any sign of life and I'm even able to hear one of them give the air a quick sniff. ‘It seems our guests are faunus’. I hear all six men suddenly raise their weapons and take aim. ‘And it seems they've heard me.’
I phase through the floor as the sound of gunfire begins to roar through the inn.
Making my way to the first floor, I watch as dust rounds explode into the floorboards I'd been standing on. As I fall in I'm able to see all of my new friends below. Each of them are cloaked in a set of black and green uniforms and body armor. They're also, as I thought, armed to the teeth with assault rifles, which are still tearing through the floor above, sidearms, and an odd assortment of melee weapons. A couple of them notice me quickly, their sharp faunus eyes reflecting off the constant light of muzzle flash, as I fall into the center of their group.
I jump to the side as, presumably, the fastest of the six points the barrel of his gun at me and fires. I sprint behind the closest of the six, the floor exploding behind me. Using his ally for cover the man ceases fire. Although there's no room for me to breath as I hear the rest of the six move around the room to get an on me with their rifles. While they hustle to get a shot on me the man closest to me, the one I'm using for cover, lunges at me with a thin, razor sharp, sword replacing his rifle.
He makes a quick slash at my neck, which I easily duck. He seems to be counting on this as his knee is already flying for my face. I'm slightly impressed with his forethought as his knee glides through my skull. Surprised with a lack of purchase from his strike, the man stumbles forward, going through me as though I was air. I hear one of his fellows raise their rifle level as I grab the back of the other’s pants. I heave the man’s fairly hefty weight over my shoulder as if I was pitching a ball and throw him at a breakneck pace towards his comrade, as the man’s finger curls around the trigger. Rounds spray randomly across the room as the two men collide with each other, the rifle flaying about randomly with its wielder still clutching the trigger as he’s taken through the air.
The other men scramble behind any cover they can find to shield themselves from the random barrage. Windows shatter and wood splinters against the onslaught of rounds until the weapon’s magazine finally runs dry. The inn is eerily quiet with the sudden lack of gunfire, which allows me to hear the others, still squatting behind bullet ridden cover, breathing hard from their mad dash. I walk towards the closest one, talking as I go. “Hello, gentlemen,” I call. “My name is Smiles, Huntsman extraordinaire, and I will be your host,” the man I'm moving towards pops up from cover and begins firing at me, point blank. Bullets glide through my chest as I shoot my hand out and snatch the barrel of his gun and rip it from his hands. A second later I send him flying into the other two, using his own weapon to bat him away. “This fine evening.” I finish, snapping the rifle in two before throwing it away.
Two of the men jump from behind their cover, swords drawn, and charge me. I take the first one out with a swift kick to the side of his temple before I dodge the second ones slash, the blade singing past where my neck was. I jump away from him and set myself into a stable fighting stance. The man eyes me warily, his blade at the ready, as he circles me, trying to find an opening for his next strike. Underneath my mask, I smirk at the man and give him an opening at my legs. He takes the bait and lunges, blade in hand, to separate my legs from the rest of my body. His efforts are met with with the heel of my shoe between his eyes.
As I land I notice the last two, standing across the room, have their rifles level with me. They both squeeze the triggers of their weapons. Instead of the mighty boom of their rifles a sharp click filled the air, their weapons dry on dust. I chuckle mockingly at their misfortune and run for them. They both curse as I quickly close the distance between us. One of them draws his sword and runs to meet me while the other scrambles to snatch a fresh magazine from one of his pouches.
The man and I meet in the center of the room. Unlike the others this man is fast and sees through all my faints and baiting. I let out a jovial laugh as the two of us become a storm of blades against fists.
I hear the sudden click as the other replaces his spent magazine and levels the rifle in the direction of his comrade and I. He fires a quick burst in my direction that I narrowly dodge, now making sure to keep his sword wielding ally between us. The swordsman seems to realize this and dodges out of the way. As soon as the swordsman is clear his comrade opens fire on me. I promptly move to cover, as few rounds buzz through me, while splinters of wood begin to shower the air around me.
I dart behind a thick, overturned, oak table that shakes as rounds smash against it. I wait for the eventual sharp click of the gunman’s weapon before I speak. “Timeout!” I yell. I hear the two of them shift to look at one another.
“Timeout?” One of the says, his voice a little shrill. “A timeout?” The three of them begin to laugh hysterically. “This isn't really a timeout sort of situation, Smiles.” The shrill voiced man says as he moves to get an angle behind the table.
“That's very unsportsmanlike,” I reply as I draw one of my handguns. The shrill voiced man stops and I hear him heft his rifle. “Well, if you don't want to be chivalrous about this then” I roll out from cover and take aim, “I'll just have to play a little dirty as well, ” I squeeze the trigger and, an instant later, the support beam of the inn, torn to splinters by gunfire, is blown away. The two have enough time to let off a quick curse before the floor above us collapses on top of them

“Hazel”
“I thought thou ‘had’ this?” I call out to Smiles from my bed, now lying amidst the debris that was the second floor.
As the dust settles I see Smiles blow off the barrel of one of his handguns before he garishly twirls it and holsters it behind his back. He shrugs with what I can only imagine to be a smug expression beneath his mask. “No one’s dead.”
“Someone's about to be,” I draw my sword ever so slightly from its scabbard, allowing the moonlight, now flooding in through what was once a wall, to catch on the blade.
Smiles returns my threatening gesture by holding out a hand to help me up. I slide my sword back into its scabbard before taking his hand and hoisting myself up.
Finally back on my feet, I briskly brush the dust and other debris from my clothing and comb it from my hair. Afterwards I look to the one of the attackers, the only one I see who isn't buried under rubble, with only his right arm and top half not completely buried.
“The others are still alive, by the way.” Smiles says, seemingly reading my mind. “A bit worse for wear, but alive.”
I give him a curt nod in reply as I walk to the half buried man. Like his fellows I deduce, he wears a black mask that covers everything but his eyes and a set of curled ram's horns. I kneel down in front of him and give his cheek a solid slap, rocketing him back in consciousness with a flurry of his free arm and a string of curses. After which I tear his mask off before I begin interrogations him. The man in front of me is young, maybe around eighteen or twenty, with curly sand colored hair that almost covers his eyes. His eyes, a muddy brown, burn with hatred as he attempts to stare me down. I grin at his attempt at intimidation, which only makes his eyes burn hotter, as I toss the mask over my shoulder. Next I examine his gear, which is colored dark black and a sick green, which is impressively high end equipment, probably what saved his crushed comrades’ lives. I look around for their weapons, which are scattered about here and there mostly in pieces.
I bring my focus back to the young man in front of me, he's still glaring at me. “Who sent you?” I ask in my coldest voice. He throws some vicious curses my way in response. Keeping eye contact, I quickly snatch his right arm in my iron grip that the man feebly fights against. “I'll ask again,” I squeeze tighter, tearing a soft gasp of pain from him, “who sent you?” He chooses not to respond this time. Although, to his credit, he keeps glaring at me with a deeper ferocity. I squeeze his arm harder, the bones in his arm giving way under my strength, and the man yells out in pain, working harder to break my grip. I ask him the same question again, loosening my grip enough for him to focus. He tries to spit in my face. As I dodge the luggy I tighten my grip, harder than the last time. He screams in agony as his arm cracks like a brittle chicken bone.
I let go of his arm, which he quickly pulls away from me and attempts to cradle it. I move my face closer to his, tilting his head so he looks into my eyes. His brown eyes are now alight with fear, for his life and my seemingly inhuman strength. Now, instead of a young girl, he sees a warrior easily capable of inflicting pain on him.
“I'm going to ask one more time.” I tell him, as I unsheathe my sword. “And if you glare at me again, or spit at me, or don't give me my answers, I'll use this,” I heft the sword, “on you.”
He looks into my eyes for a bit before he responds. “Die, human.” The fear burns beneath the flames of his hatred as one of his comrades tear through the rubble, a broken sword in his hands, towards me.
I jump back, the shattered blade whistling by my throat. I land with my sword ready to parry another attack, only to see the man’s broken weapon fly from his hand as a gunshot rang through the air.
I look to Smiles, who aims another of his handguns at the man. “None of that now,” Smiles says, cocking the hammer back on his weapon.
The other man, much larger than his wounded comrade, clutches his hand before growling at Smiles. “Traitor!” He spits at Smiles.
Smiles cocks his head. “How so?”
“You shouldn't be aiding the ‘humans’,” he spits out human as if it were a horrid curse. “You should be fighting them, with your own kind!”
Smiles lets out a deep sigh and bows his head, his gun still level with the two. “That's the problem.” He replies.
“What?”
“My people? I have no people. You have no people. No one has any people.” He says. “Saying your people is just the racist crap that every human totes around as they degrade those who aren't their people.” Smiles says, a slight edge to his voice. “Plus,” he adds, “‘my people’ don't try to kill me.” He looks over to me. “Often.”
I quickly shoot him an angry glare.
“So,” he slides another round into his spare weapon. “Who. Sent. You?”
“Burn, scum.” The large one curses.
Smiles tuts at the man. “How rude.” Smiles chuckles slightly but stops abruptly as his ears twitch. “Okay. How about this question.” He hefts his other gun, pointing it into the darkness. “Who’s that watching us?” Smiles squeezes the trigger, the boom of the shot quickly follows.

“Smiles”
I tilt my head to the right as my own round, deflected from its original target, rockets by my head. I hear the miss quickly shift into a defensive stance, now pointed towards where the round came from. I quickly pop out the spent round and replace it in a smooth motion. “So, who might our guests be?” I ask as my eyes search the moonlit streets.
“I knew a squad of grunts wouldn't be enough.” Says a voice from the shadows.
“Vice-Commander?” The large man yells out in shock.
From the shadows steps a slim woman, cloaked in a hooded, dark blue, jacket that reaches down to her ankles. Under which she wears a light blue top, strewn about with intricate patterns and a single long sleeve covering her right arm. Across her stomach and right arm are series of jagged looking tattoos, which are strangely elegant looking. Then, over a pair of black stockings, a harness carrying a large knife. She also carries an assortment of, what I'm guessing, grenades on a belt slung over her hips and light blue shorts.
“Boys,” the Vice-Commander responds, dipping her head in greeting to the two. “Would you both be dears and dig out the other while I…have a discussion with our Huntsman friends here.” She looks back to the miss and I, her fingers drumming against the hilt of her knife.
For a while the three of us just stare at rack other, sizing one another up for a fight. That is until the Vice-Commander laughs a little, taking her hand away from her knife and instead folding her arms in front of herself. “You two sure did a number on my boys, huh.”
I give her a slight chuckle in return as I holster one of my guns and let the other hang loosely at my side. “Well, they didn’t exactly give me much of a choice, um, what's your name, miss?”
“Brisk,” the name sends a sharp sting into the back off my skull.
“Well, Brisk,” the miss continues for me. “Who sent you? You're no simple bandits, given you attacked, not one, but two Huntsmen. Not to mention your equipment and ideology.” She says, looking to the man whose arm she’d broken earlier.
“Don't speak to me, human.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. So don't make me repeat myself.” From beneath the shadows of her hood I see her eyes for a brief instant, bright bloody red.
“Let's be civil about this, you two.” I chime in, my eye on the miss as I watch her anxiously flex her grip on her hilt.
The miss gives me a sharp glare and we begin a, brief, silent discussion.
‘We can take her!’ The miss silently tells me with her sharp golden gaze.
‘We can. But I'm not sure the village would hold up as well.’ I counter, swiveling my head to encompass the destruction around us. The miss does the same, her eyes deftly moving over the rubble. She looks conflicted for a second before she lets out an irritated grunt. A moment later she sheathes her sword, her hand still anxiously resting on the blade’s hilt.
“So,” I begin, smoothing out the collar of my jacket. “Would you tell us who sent you?”
“No,” Brisk replies instantly.
“Alright, perhaps another question then. Why are you here?”
“That one's simple enough, I suppose.” Brisk replies, shoving her hands into the pocket of her coat. “They,” she says, cocking her head towards the grunts, who have dug up all but one of their companions, “were sent here to kill you. Or, at the very least, make any further travel difficult.”
“So they're the ones who stole our horses then?”
“Yes, yes they were.”
“Then why are you here then, Brisk?”
Brisk stays silent for a moment, either to mull the question over a bit or for some other reason, before she says. “To meet an old friend, dear Clancey.”
Another sharp pain stabs the back of my skull at the mention of the name, that all too familiar name. I allow the pain to subside before I continue. “How do you know that name?”
“I, along with my organization, know many things, Clancey.” She looks at the miss. “Especially about you ‘Hazel’.” She says sharply.
The miss’s eyes go wide for a second. “How much?” She asks in her most careful tone.
Brisk begins to speak to the miss, her tone laced with venom, in a language I don't recognize. The miss’s eyes grow wider as Brisk continues to speak to her. The miss even removes her hand from her sword and shoves them against her ears, trying to block out whatever Brisk is saying to her. She then squeezes her eyes shut as tears begin to form.
I calmly walk between the miss and Brisk, my blood boiling, and cock the hammer of my weapon. “I'd recommend you stop harassing my companion, Brisk.”
“What happened to you, Clancey?” Brisk asks, her voice sad.
“Don't call me that. My name’s Smiles.”
“No it’s not!” Brisk yells at me, her voice sounding pained. “Your name is Clancey! You're a faunus from Vale! You, just like me and your mother, were discriminated by these monsters!” She screams as she points at the miss. “They attacked us, berated us! Just because of your ears and my teeth. You should be fighting with us, your people, with me.” She tears the hood from her head. Her face is soft and would have been beautiful if it weren't for the jagged and ugly scar around the left side of her mouth. The skin is pulled back far enough to show her teeth, which are all sharp canines, like a dog. Her eyes are open, colored a fiery red, and filled with desperation. “Look what ‘they’ did to me, ‘Smiles’! This is what you're fighting for. Look at me and tell me that they deserve your protection. Tell me they are anything but monsters!”
I stay silent for a moment, examining every detail of the horrendous scar doused in moonlight. I feel a deep sense of pity and, somewhere deep inside, a feeling of anger and shame for not protecting this woman from her scars. “They're not monsters, Brisk. Some of them are misguided but they can change.” I gesture towards the miss, who now watches us, her hands torn away from her ears. “The miss is the best example of this.”
Brisk quickly replies with a laugh, which sounds cold and devoid of any humor. “Yes and ‘her’ transition was so sudden.” She says sarcastically. “It'll take millennia for them to accept us. And by then the faunus could be gone, wiped out by these monsters.”
“Vice-Commander,” chimes in one of the grunts.
“What?” She asks, quietly, her voice tinged with a lingering animosity.
“We need to go. Pha...it’s not safe here. Especially with the wounded.”
Brisk looks over her men before she shuts her eyes and let's out a quick sigh. “Roger. You guys go ahead and get out of here, I'll catch up soon.”
The large grunt nods, shoots the miss and I a murderous glare, then turns to attend to his fellows. They then slink away into the shadows, impressively quiet considering their injuries, leaving their broken weapons behind.
Brisk looks back to us, her eyes still shut. “Turn back, Clancey,” she says. “This is your only warning. If you seek out your friends any further, if you try and help those traitors in the White Fang, then, the next time we meet, I'll kill you.”
“It won't really be that easy.” I say, my voice laced heavily with an arrogance that is now second nature.
She opens her eyes slightly, allowing for only a sliver of red to shine. “Then, until then, this is goodbye, dear friend.”
As I watch Brisk walk away, her form quickly blending into the shadows, the sharp pain at the back of my skull lights up again. The pain sends a bolt of fear through me. I take a firm grasp of the fear and the pain before snuffing it out. As I feel the last of shred of fear fade away I hear a deafening bellow of rage. I don't react to the bellow, as I instantly recognize the sound. I look to the miss, who’s still looking into the shadows, most likely expecting an attack. Like always, she didn't hear the roar.
“Well, that was pleasant.” I say, finally breaking the eerie silence.
The miss looks at me, her gaze once again sharp and alert. Her eyes also brim with questions for me.
“We’ll talk about it later.” I tell her. “For now though I suggest we leave.” All around us I hear villagers finally moving to investigate what all the noise was about, their courage now mustered with the absence of gunfire. “I don't think they'll be all that understanding about this. Especially the inn keep.” On que the inn keep bursts, not that far away, from a pile of shattered floorboards. He curses in confusion, then yells out in alarm at the state of his inn before he spots us. His alarm quickly gives way to anger and he slings a slew of vicious curses our way. We take that as our que to hoof it.