A/N Jan. 8, '19: Surprise my dear readers; I am in fact still alive and typing!

Life has thrown practically everything at me since my last installment, and I haven't had the time I possessed in the past… but that's not what your interested in.

SHOWTIME!

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Chapter 19: Tower of Saints and Sinners

Tension congealed thickly in the room, as by his admission their lives could be ended by moving a finger off of a button. Jack paid what he had caused no mind. "I had some extra time setting up those hard light thingies, so I put in something a bit more flashy just for me. So, what's next?"

He didn't look at Ozpin holding him down, but at the Council members, the nervous Ethylene to be more precise. She asked, "What do you want?"

"Well, a four-course meal at Elysium would not go amiss after a deep-tissue massage-What the fuck do you think I want?" He snapped at the stupid question, before letting a snicker loose.

"Since I have to spell it out for Her Sweatiness, here's my demand. A minute head start, no more and no less."

"You enact a plan to hold several of the most influential individuals in the world hostage, after an assassination attempt on another Council member, and that's all you want?" Ozpin inquired.

"Of course not, but none of you will just let me walk freely or acquiesce to my desires, and definitely not those who could actually catch me like you or Jumbo over there. So I thought, 'Hey, why not literally get to the chase?' Should make this a bit more fun."

"You think this is fun?" Ruby shouted, a rarity in and of itself, at him for holding the lives of others with such low regard. It, and therefore he, disgusted her to hold such a view on life. Jack, on the other hand, acted like he just remembered that she was there.

"Why of course, my naïve little wall flower. Games are designed to be fun, for someone at least. And might I add what a delightful look you've got there. If only tall, blond, and handsome could see it." He seemed to take glee in their frustrations.

"Enough bluffing." Ozpin dryly cut his 'prisoner's' chortles short. "I take the time to familiarize myself with every student that comes to my school. Your inflated sense of your own importance would never allow you to actually place yourself in such direct risk."

"And by that logic, I couldn't afford to bluff on the chance that you would call me out on it. Regardless, it's not up to you to take that risk for everyone. What say you, soybean gallery?"

Pankarta was practically chewing on his cigar as he stared at the brat with a cold fury that bordered on inhuman with his reptilian gaze. "Let him go, Ozpin."

"Typical." Hans muttered not quite under his breath, not at all surprised by the ironclad self-preservation instinct of politicians.

"Ah, you can always trust a politician to save their own skins, no matter the cost. How adorably predictable."

"I must advise you to reconsider this course of action."

"He won't be able to get past the security system." Bolstered by an apparent certainty, Ethylene regained confidence. "You'll have your minute, boy, but know this. Even if by some miracle that you temporarily escape justice and being splattered on the Palace grounds, there is no happy end. You will be thrown to The Maw like the rabid dog you are."

"Promises promises~." Napier sighed wistfully, unfazed by the threat. "In light of our freshly struck accord, I have a gift for the big guy before I bid you all farewell."

Reaching into a coat pocket, he pulled out a gift-wrapped cylinder, topped with a blue ribbon bow with 'FRAG-LE' neatly scribbled all over it. As he passed by the Arc patriarch, he handed the gift over, keeping the other hand holding the detonator close to his chest.

At the open door, Napier stretched out into a sprinter's pose, awaiting the starting gunshot. "Hmm, since I shot off too early, I suppose I'll have to use something else. Bye bye, I'll give Jaune your warm regards personally. Hahahaa!"

With that parting declaration as a warning, he tossed the detonator behind him, the device clattering to the floor. Shortly thereafter, a small beeping could be heard from the wrapped package, steadily getting faster and louder.

"Really?" Despite the severity of the situation, Hans sighed at the fleeing brat's childish attempt at humor; a minute head start indeed. Anyone who suddenly found to be holding a literal ticking time bomb would try to throw it away with all haste. Having experienced and 'tanked', as his son would put it, close proximity explosions before, he was under no such compunction and remained calm. More then he can say for the Councilors, who had already fled the room through the back door. "Anyone of you experienced with explosives enough to disarm this in less than… fifty seconds?"

Rather than waste the time needed to answer verbally, the black haired Faunus and the orange haired human took the package out of his outstretched hand barely after the words left his mouth, and the shorter one began to babble in jargon that he didn't pay attention to, unlike her assistant. Rather, his attention was focused on the postcard that had stuck in his grip, and the black that threatened to overtake his senses.

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"What a ramshackle piece of junk." Nora derided the quality, or lack thereof, and the now defused kaboom. First off, it was barely wired to be functional, lacked any backup contingencies, and had no sense of organization in the tangled mess. The lead wire that she needed to cut was in the most random place, next to a couple of hanging, dead wires. "If you make a plot to assassinate head honchos in robes, you should take pride in your work. This is just inexcusable."

"Careful, Nora, Weiss is rubbing off on you."

"I most certainly am not!" Weiss had the habit of taking some idioms literally, much to Yang's amusement.

"It's just an expression to defuse the tension. No need to start melting." Blake would have smiled, were it not for a brief, but deep growl stemming from her missing friend's father. Looking to Hans Arc, she saw on his face an emotion so prevalent on Jaune in the midst of battle. It seemed like wrath ran in the family. However, rather than yell or lash out, his expression hardened like steel, in contrast with the reddening complex and pulsing veins.

"What is the matter, Hans? Another joke from my wayward student?" The headmaster asked.

"I am in no mood for this any longer. In light of recent facts, I find my calm becoming… compromised." His voice matched perfectly to Blake's observation. Beneath the surface of calm, a storm threatened to rage against all that came before it. He handed what looked to be a postcard to Ozpin. "I need a Bullhead."

"Within the hour, my friend. Do you need anything else?" Hans was already leaving, unconcerned with such niceties as verbally answering questions. Unperturbed, Ozpin slipped the card into his back pocket. "Come students, let us return to Beacon."

"But umm, sir? Where is he going?" Ruby asked as they began leaving the palace through the way they entered.

"To pick up his son, of course."

"Do you not have to deal any fallout of this event?" Ren inquired, referring to the successful assassination.

"Normally, I would perhaps be of assistance if I was called upon. However, despite how it might appear, I do not hold any actual authority in government, merely a great deal of influence with individuals. Even so, my duties come first, and foremost among them are my students."

"So do you know where Jaune is?" Pyrrha asked before anyone else could, the same question on all minds. The headmaster remained silent for a moment his back to them as he lead the group.

"Somewhere he shouldn't be, and that is all I will say on the matter. But do not worry, for Mr. Arc, that is to say the senior, will not return empty-handed. That much, I can guarantee."

Despite persistent queries with the best of intentions, Ozpin focused on his scroll, becoming half lost in his own thoughts as they discussed amongst themselves. They may be training, and quite well for their age, to be warriors and guardians, but they were still children. Though, to be fair, most people seemed like children from his perspective, some more so than others.

To see death firsthand at such a young age, and so unexpectedly, must be rather shocking, and he felt that to add to that without time to internalize and process these events would be a disservice to their well-being.

That still left the matter of informing Mr. Winchester of the truth of his father's death, before the public became aware of this 'White Fang attack'. Such a prediction was easy to make, consider the idea had already been planted. No one deserved to hear of the death of family in such an impersonal manner, regardless if there would be a dearth of actual mourning.

If only the cliché of a 'deathbed monologue' was more like novels and films, it would help immeasurably in putting the pieces together to see how CW fit in this eternal game, only for another piece to show itself as they walked past a shattered mirror. While Cobalt would be a footnote in his archive, an ironic joke against those blinded in their quests for glory, other factors would take prominence.

Active as his mind was to put everything together, he almost didn't notice the feeling of the 'postcard' in his back pocket being removed. What kind of teacher would he be if he did not reward tenacity from his students? Their next actions would be interesting to see unfold.

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Though pickpocketing was meant to be quick and appear natural, it required a near surgical level of precision and casual grace to achieve, one that Nora sometimes admired of her super bestie. Thankfully, Ren's attempt was successful, and appeared to go unnoticed. It had been a while since he had been forced to rely on such skills, and to use it for the benefit of more than just survival had a pleasant oddness.

To play it cool, she started conversing about what they would do with their season break. In the midst of all the recent events, a weeklong respite had been scheduled, allowing Beacon staff to make final preparations for the arrival of guests from the other three academies.

Once out of sight, he took out their prize, only to immediately resort to his semblance as a slew of negative emotions threatened to overtake him. Recognizing the signs as color drained from his form, yet at the same time it didn't, Nora became worried. He only used that ability in emergencies. "What is it?"

"I understand why Black Hammer's calm was compromised." He responded, speaking as few words as possible, but the absence in tone still creeped her out even with having heard it before. Where she liked his calm, but humble confidence, this void-like monotone taking its place was more akin to that of a machine. Hearing the alteration to complete callousness for the first time took their companions aback.

"Are you okay, Ren?" Ruby asked. No was her only reply. Nora took it upon herself to explain.

"Ren's using his semblance, allowing him to completely separate, suppress, mask? Whatever… all emotions. Gimme!" She held out her hand, but he did not give it to her.

"That is not optimal. Distress would be demoralizing. Encourage foolish decisions." He his the image up his sleeve once more.

"You can't just leave us in the dark! Is Jaune okay?" Pyrrha asked, feeling a tinge of panic grow.

"He is alive." That only made it worse.

Unlike everyone but Nora, Blake had seen this before when the pair had discovered the carnage within Evergreen's cathedral-sanctum. Blake asked, "What's the damage?"

"Severe." The word confirmed her suspicion, as well as sent a chilling shiver. 'Severe' was the same term he used the last time. Even without that, a 'heretic' in the hands of a fanatic with authority boded ill, on any account, let alone for a month.

"Severe or not, you don't get to decide what's best for us." Yang interjected.

"Not decided, merely advising. Be warned, unpleasant." He took out the debated object again.

Being closest, Yang grabbed it first. The picture contained four people that they wanted to find in a friendly pose, although only Jack Napier was smiling. His two cohorts, Roman Onyx and Beau Réal, might have under their respective masks as well, but they didn't seem to be the happy type. Her eye was drawn to them first due to their team leader's bright outfit; propping up the one next to him like a hunting trophy, Jaune was only recognizable due to his attire and blond hair. Everything else about him was red and almost blurred.

Upon closer examination to survey the damage, she closed her eyes and fought off a surge of nausea. All visible skin, of which there was mercifully little, was horrifically burned with an unnatural consistency, giving the illusion of being flayed at first glance. But the truth was in the eyes. What was once vivid blue was now pale and murky, a visual cue implying blindness.

It was similar to what Dove's mother was currently undergoing as well, being under the effects of concentrated lumenflower extract, only to a far more severe degree and made worse by being forced into bright sunlight.

Jaune was nearly unrecognizable through horrific brutality, and the thought of a friend, of anyone, going through that much suffering was horrific in the most extreme manner and warranted despair. That emotion passed, quickly consumed by righteous anger.

Yang passed it on because she continuing to look at such a horrific record would make her lose it. She was half tempted to burn it in her hands, but it left her hands before she could decide.

Weiss and Ruby, unused to such violent imagery due to their upbringings, lacked the same constitution and rushed to the nearest trashcan with green faces. Everyone else was not much better off against such visual trauma, combined with seeing a murder in cold blood less than an hour ago.

"We need to find him." Ruby declared immediately as she returned.

"I'm with you, Rubes, but there's a small problem with that. Any idea where this is?" Looking past their mutilated friend, both literally and figuratively, there was a tower in the background built of a dark red stone.

But the father clearly had a destination in mind. With only a few minutes left before he took off, they rushed to prepare for their upcoming rescue mission. All they needed was for him to agree, however difficult of an obstacle that proved to be.

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An anxious father was waiting for one final preparation for the flight ahead. It was a mixed blessing that a longer flight requires more prep, because it allowed his thoughts time to grow and fester. Would Jaune be the same after this, or would he change even further? While the dedication towards achieving his goals was a sight he should take pride in, it left a sour and bittersweet aftertaste. Like the blind bat once said, shame was the bedrock of pride, and revenge was the act of building upon it. A wise yet cautionary proverb, but he was Vytalian. From what he knew, that was their culture in a whitewashed nutshell.

Now that the Malathyst was vanquished, what would drive him? The way things were going, he'd find another target to revenge upon, and then another, and on and on it would go; killing until killed. That wasn't living, and he would do his utmost best to ensure such a fate wouldn't come to pass. If Jaune hadn't undergone torment at that wretched tower, he'd smack the boy upside the head to set him straight, preferably with his hammer.

Hans did not care for his epithet, however much he understood its purpose. It was a propaganda tool, meant to inspire the masses that there were those willing and able to defend their peace. But for all the good it accomplished, all that hearing praises of 'The Black Hammer' did was to remind him of the almost worst day of his life, especially this time of year around which his only son was born.

Imagination truly was the cruelest gift humanity had been bestowed. The mind became its own worst enemy. Envisioning what else his son had undergone threatened to boil his blood, but he held it for a while longer. Rage was all too easy to unleash, but it would have its time and place. It was not here, not now.

Approaching footsteps caught his attention, tearing him away from somber melancholy and rumination. Seeing the nearly complete team, he had less than half a mind to turn them away.

"About time you showed up." He didn't need to look at them to know they were geared up and ready for battle.

"We-" The silver-eyed girl, Ruby he believed, began only to be cut off.

"You want to come along to rescue my son, even if you don't know what exactly you're signing up for." Before they had arrived, he took the time to read their files that Ozpin had sent them. They were varying shades of green, however skilled they might be for their age.

"Rescue mission, duh?" Yang replied, but he shook his head, as it was what he expected.

"Not quite. While I have no doubt that Jaune is alive, it is his mental state that I am concerned for. No one leaves that place untouched. So why put your lives on the line so rapidly?"

"Because Jaune's our friend, and even if he weren't we would still be here. He would do the same for any of us. You may not think that we're ready, and we might not be. But we want to help, and we'll do what we can." Ruby stepped up, and after a moment of thought Ren added a supplement.

"We would not be here, both Beacon in general and here at this moment, if we weren't prepared or willing to do what is right." They both received a nod of respect. At least they had a minimal level of arrogance common in students yet to experience the full weight of their duty. Additionally, it warmed his heart as a father to hear that his son finally had worthwhile friends.

"I expect nothing less, but if you are unwilling or unable to do what is necessary against any and all obstacles in our path, do not bother getting on board." Harsh words they may be, but they were necessary. He wouldn't coddle them, could not afford to, as it would only hinder them in the near future.

"We are prepared to deal with any Grimm." Weiss insisted. Such resolve would serve them well, even if it were partially naïve.

"That wasn't what I meant." With that note of warning, Hans entered the Bullhead, followed by seven shadows for a mission that would be classified as an 8 in difficulty, were it to be official.

As they were taking off, Pyrrha was the first to say, "Thank you for let-"

"Do not thank me, girl."

"Where are we going?" Pyrrha remained undeterred by the prospect of hardship.

It was Pip at the cockpit who answered in his comrade's stead. "While I affectionately call it Hell since my brief time spent as a guard there; The Sinner's Tower, an Anathema prison."

"Ana-what?" Nora was always the first to speak her mind.

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No matter how convenient that parlor trick was for escaping, Jack hated the sensation that came with it. It felt like falling asleep at first, but it was no more peaceful than regular sleep was to him these days. In what should be relief, the looming sensation that something was watching; a gaze from both afar and right behind him that should not be met under any circumstance. It might just be paranoia, and he had more than a healthy dose of that, but travelling through mirrors only made that gaze closer, more focused not on his flesh, but on his very soul.

Stepping out, he left that strange realm of in-between, but not at his anticipated destination of the tower. Instead, he looked to be in a temple. He had been here before, but was unsure why he had come back. It was certainly not by his intent. He avoided places like these as best he could out of principle, loathing the ennui-inducing rituals and traditions enacted within. This one he could because it felt different with its bleak architecture silently radiating strength and solitude.

Ironic, considering that he wasn't alone.

He didn't know her name, nor had he seen her face, but The Lady in Black was a good a name as any, especially since he thought of it. She was standing in front of a mirror, with her back to him like before. She remained silent and inhumanly still.

But something was not right. She seemed… not different, but more, like missing details had been filled in. Her skin was paler; her dress/robes darker with strange, red markings of unknown significance, and her hair was ornamented with black crystals.

"I'm in the middle of something, so if you could be so kind as to get to the-" The Lady in Black interrupted both his words and his approach with a raised hand, not bothering to turn around.

"I provided you the means and opportunity to achieve your desire, and in doing so, provide me a service in return. However, this pact did not include you partaking of something that was never meant for you." Her voice was still entrancing and beautiful to behold, but in his ears he heard an undercurrent of something that he lacked the words to define.

Her impossible certainty of knowledge sent an involuntary chill up his spine. How could she possibly know? He had told no one, and erased any record as best he could. "No idea what you're talking about. I'm out of here. I'm behind schedule as it is, so have some patience."

As the last word passed his cracked lips, Jack started another coughing fit. It had been getting worse over the last few days, and stupid, blue-haired bitch of a doctor lacked a remedy for his ailment.

"Patience?" His coughing grew worse, racking his torso like carving knives. Her voice was no longer heard in his ears, but in his very mind.

"A mad dog such as yourself does not know what that word means." The pain spread through his veins like fire until he lacked the strength of will to stand, crumpling to the floor. His very soul boiled from the agony.

"Most speak to me with more respect, child… but I suppose you're only human; blinded by your selfish desires, unable to stop yourself from venturing into peril beyond your comprehension." He could barely breathe; darkness began to creep in on his vision.

On the brink of passing out, the burning sensation disappeared as quickly as it appeared. When he regained full faculty of his senses, and wiped his watering eyes, she hadn't moved at all. Oh, what he wouldn't give to cut this haughty, pretentious self-styled queen, and dye her white hair with her own blood.

In the end, those futile thoughts of vengeance were cut short as she turned around. Though he disdained religion in its entirety, unholy was the first word that came to his fading mind as he beheld her visage. The revelation shattered little clarity he had as he screamed in terror, something he hadn't done since his team's tragedy. That scream was also his last clear breath as he was overwhelmed with the sensation of drowning in boiling blood.

"You brought this upon yourself, unworthy thief."

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"Pip, read them in. I'll keep an eye out for turbulence." Pip's largest friend didn't like flying, preferring to travel on terra firma whenever possible, with emergencies being an exception. It wasn't from motion sickness, unlike his wife, but practicality. Hans didn't use any traditional ranged weaponry, and aerial combat was functionally impossible without some form of ranged option. Thankfully, the pilot had plenty to spare in the ranged department.

"What are we in for? I see no reason to go in blind, especially if this will be as difficult as inferred." The sole male of the students asked over the intercom. Pip had a good opinion of the Vytalian lad's potential, as he displayed the more positive traits his people valued, practicality and logic. It was a good sign, as cooler heads were essential when interacting with the locals. If it were up to him alone, in any other circumstance, Pip would have serious misgivings about their seven tag-alongs.

However, despite his opinion on the enigmatic Headmaster, he was an excellent judge of character, and if he felt the greenhorns were ready, who was he to judge? Their motivation would overcome their inexperience, or it would not. With that, he set the craft on autopilot and headed to the back.

"Any of you take 'Law Enforcement' yet?" He should hope so, as he was one of the Hunters that petitioned the Council to add it to the curriculum, even if was compromised into an elective.

"Not yet, unfortunately. It's for third year and above only, barring recommendations from other professors." Ren replied, as it was a course he looked forward to.

"Right. Let me know what you know of the basics, and I'll go from there."

Though each kingdom had their own system, they shared a similar foundation. Rather than just lock lawbreakers up and drain limited resources, the system was revamped during the Vytalian Accords to maximize efficiency.

When boiled down to its most basic elements, the hierarchy that comprised all crimes consisted of two levels: Deviant and Aberrant. The former was composed of petty crimes and misdemeanors, all of which non-violent. Convictions of this level are punished with tasks deemed as 'dirty jobs', cheap labor with an unfortunate necessity.

As an example, Roman Torchwick was still considered Deviant level, despite his crime spree. His actions have enigmatically remained non-violent with the exception of self-defense.

An Aberrant commits either violent crimes, or was convicted as a Deviant at least three times. A frequent sentence of this level was Dust mining, and/or guarding said facility under heavy supervision, depending on the individual. Weiss had contributed the most knowledge on this level, as the SDC profits heavily from this state of affairs, with good PR to boot from reforming portions of society.

Pip listened to their collective knowledge, and nodded. "Essentially, yes. That's about ninety-nine percent of it."

"And the other one?" Pyrrha inquired, hesitant about the unintentionally ominous statement.

"Those deemed Anathema are shipped to places like our destination, where they stay for the rest of their lives." Pip let that alien concept sink in. With the previous two levels, once a sentence is over, that's it. There is no lingering punishment or repercussions, and people resume their lives like nothing happened. For the Anathema, the only end is death, in whatever form it took.

"How can these places get away with this?" Even the most ignorant country bumpkin knew that no one could be legally punished indefinitely. Every crime had a strict sentence, without exception, and they only be reduced due to motive and behavior, never increased.

"They're not 'getting away' with anything. Technically, Anathema are Aberrant-level, but are deemed too much of a safety risk to allow normal rehabilitation. So they are shipped elsewhere for Border Control. They are there until either their sentence is completed, or they die, with the latter being the more frequent of the two." He then explained some of the finer nuances of 'The Anathema Project', with his straightforward militaristic tone, lacking his usual laissez-faire, commanding their attention.

"Through whatever reason, there are a number of people whose 'level of negativity' exceeds safety parameters to an extreme degree. They may be the rarest of minorities, less than half a percent, but keeping them in the city would only draw more Grimm to Vale. So the moment any of these persons of interest commit any crime they're swiftly excommunicated to one of eight facilities." Speaking of such an affront to the idea of freedom was appalling to a society that fought wars over the very concept, so it was rarely spoken of. Out of sight, out of mind, and since no one talked about it, almost no one under the age of 20 knew about it. Ignorance may be a crude ward against despair and fear, but it was effective.

"What prompted such a harsh, abhorrent policy? Vale is widely considered the most peaceful and the second most progressive of the four kingdoms. Something like this 'Anathema Project' seems like something out of the bowels of Atlas… No offense, Weiss." Blake inquired with a small touch of horror, as this sounded like something Atlas would come up with, or even Mistral before Vale.

"Only some taken." While Atlas was not undeserving of its more conservative reputation, such crude imagery was categorically unnecessary.

"Before the project was completed, attacks happened on levels similar to Crow's Hill, only proportionally up scaled with population size. The Council was desperate for a solution after their original disastrous idea. Call it whatever you wish, but it wouldn't exist if it were not effective. Since their implementation, Grimm have not assailed Vale in any significant manner for thirty years." The man had been around the age of these students, already amassing public influence within and without his cult.

"So these people are spied on for their most lives, and literally thrown to the Grimm at the smallest sign of trouble. What kind of monster comes up with that?" Blake demanded an answer; increasingly outraged at the concept the more they learned.

"You've already met him, kitten. Cobalt Winchester was the project's architect. And they are not spied upon without their knowledge. However, Jaune should never have gone there without a trial; no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Regardless of the corruption inherent with the red tape of politics and bureaucracy, this went beyond the pale. Any and all sentences of such an extreme degree required every measure fallen to the letter and spirit of the law, which explained the unusually high level court being utilized. Anyone with authority caught attempting to exploit this system for a personal agenda were subject to the same fate, highly discouraging misuse to an extreme degree.

Short burst of gunfire outside the aircraft, auto turrets taking out an airborne threat before it got too close, interrupted the debriefing as a pilot was required at the helm. "That is what we aim to fix. It's not a perfect system, or entirely ethical for that matter, but it is needed. If this system didn't exist, Jaune would have been executed for being diagnosed as Anathema before ever setting foot in Vale, let alone Beacon."

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The passengers underwent their own forms of mental preparation; checking and rechecking their gear, reading various forms of literature, music on headphones, or even attempting a short rest to let the newfound lore sink in. Whilst they were rapidly approaching their goal, focus would be essential. Mr. Pandora was an excellent pilot, and flew with minimal turbulence, a constant presence in any flight Ren had experienced in the past.

"So who is the sinner that this tower's named after? What did they do? Or is it named as a reference to its quote unquote 'guests'? … When should we reschedule the welcome back party? Or should we change it to a post-rescue party? Is that the right phrase?"

His current brand of meditation was guiding Nora through her 'ramblings'. Occasionally, in moments of stress, what few filters Nora had between her brain and her mouth dissipated, and she verbally expressed any and all thoughts she had. Rather than be irritated, he found the ability to speak her mind most endearing, and it was his self-appointed privilege to make a comment every now and then to steer her away from going too off the rails into depression.

In rare occasions, he used minor applications of his semblance to calm her down, as panic attacks had occurred in the past before he refined his control. She had once joked that if she was a lightning bolt, he was her lightning rod. Oddly, she was rather quiet after that for some time. It wasn't until puberty hit him as well that he understood why.

Whilst doing one of his favorite past times, he also kept an eye for any tells on emotional distress that could compromise their effectiveness. In Jaune's absence, Ruby was leader and he was second in command, in addition to his team duty of 'morale officer'. Whilst he did not feel comfortable with the burden of leadership due to lack of familiarity, the perils of rampant emotions was something he understood.

Regardless, his comrades had trusted him and he would do his utmost to do so as best he could. Ruby looked hesitant, tapping her feet and twiddling her thumbs, likely wanting to say something but unsure of the words to say or how to say them. This was not a surprise, considering several factors feeding her social awkwardness. We are our own worst enemies, and forge our own chains. However, in smaller and more familiar groups she was coming into her own, and out of her shell. A little push, such as someone else's confidence, was all a person needs. In this case, it was in the form of a text.

Ren: 'Say what is on your mind. Acknowledge your doubts, face them, and you shall overcome them.'

She looked at her scroll, and his message intently. Giving him a quick apologetic glance, her reply came shortly after.

Ruby: 'I don't want to bother anyone. I'll only distract them.'

Ren: 'Your heart is in the right place, but you are mistaken. Take a closer look. They are not focused, but instead simmering in their own thoughts and doing what they can to calm themselves. Do what is right, and help them.'

Ruby did so, and it took a minute to notice the discrepancies that he had. Weiss was using her whetstone slower than her usual pace, despite having finished ten minutes ago. Even though people who knew and accepted her heritage surrounded Blake, she had put on her bow, the ears underneath giving an errant twitch before she checked the others.

Yang and Pyrrha, the two most battle-confident, had their own tics popping up such as checking ammunition for probably the fifth time or her secret snuggle buddy tapping her spear on the floor in a steady pattern.

Everyone was doing their own thing, and while on the surface it was standard nerves before a high level mission, it was more as well. What truly sold it was the slight jump when Pip announced on speaker that they had ten more minutes before landing. Ren was right, they were on edge, but the exact answer she wanted remained a mystery.

Ruby: 'What should I say?'

Ren: 'It doesn't matter, so long as you say something.'

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Ruby sighed before standing up, holding a strap above her head for support after pulling her hood off.

"I don't know the right thing to say, really. I'm not the best with words at the best of times, but I'll try anyway." Not the most inspirational start, but it got their undivided attention, so it was a start. "So let's keep this debrief… brief. We go in, get Jaune, get out. Any questions?"

"That's a bit oversimplified, Ruby. You forgot to take into account the angriest of mobs humanity has dredged up will be there too." Weiss interjected.

"That doesn't matter. If they stay out of our way, we leave them be." She ordered. "We're not here to hunt monsters. We're here to save a friend, that's it."

"Just a friend, eh?" Yang asked half-heartedly as they descended to touch solid ground once again.

"Be careful, everyone. Stick together, and we can… we will do this."

Hans and Pip opened the doors to exit the aircraft, the latter giving a small smile of praise. "Anti-Aircraft defense systems, especially older models, aren't 100% able to tell Grimm from Bullheads. Better safe than sorry, so we walk."

"Man, we are just learning all of the lore today, aren't we?" Nora asked rhetorically with exasperation. It's like she never left school.

After two miles of a hasty pace, they followed the veteran Huntsmen and crouched behind a hill. Carefully peering over the ridge, they saw their destination at last.

"It's a warzone." Pyrrha remarked. That was only term she knew to aptly describe what lay ahead with any degree of accuracy. Within a large, semi-circular area about half a click in radius, it looked like life had been forcefully evicted. The ground was blasted down to the bedrock, scarred and scorched from countless battles. It carried an eerie silence, adding to a sense of dread as she spotted the fortress in the center. Bleak, dark grey stonewalls surrounded a tall cylinder of black. The sun was descending on the other side, invoking the image of a solar eclipse and bringing out the natural red in the tower's material.

On the structure's north side, there was nothing; no ground, nor anything for an area that equaled the blasted ruin around them. As if he read minds, Hans spoke about the region they had entered.

"Welcome to the largest sinkhole in the world, 'The Maw'. With the tower setting up shop here, Grimm are diverted to the concentration of negativity, and are for the most part purged, or at least decimated enough to no longer be a viable threat up north. With the natural defense behind them, they don't have to worry about being surrounded." Hans walked over the hill and toward the tower.

"Won't they start shooting at us?" Nora questioned.

"No, but we should see someone signaling and/or approaching us."

Ruby, checking through her detachable scope, only saw AA turrets, a large drum, and a siege horn next to said drum. Not a one had people manning them.

"Maybe they took a day off?" Blake asked with doubtful optimism.

"Unlikely. Weapon's out, proceed with caution." Hans was curt, but not harsh in his order. After a moment, he softened in his tone. "Steel yourselves. What lies ahead will not be easy to see, but you must remain focused on our goal."

Even with the warning, it barely prevented Ruby from losing her nerve when the stench of death hit her with all its pungency. Scattered around them were a few dozen corpses, ordinary human and Faunus alike, savaged and mangled beyond compare. They looked more like meat than people. Only the two veterans remained unaffected, for Ren refused to use his semblance as a crutch. Though familiar with the sight of death, a massacre like this was never something that should be easily dismissed.

Though it was not easy, they took the older Arc's words to heart. A puzzling detail caught Ruby's eye, or rather it's absence. "Pip, sir, are there standard issue weapons for prisoners here?"

"A gladius, heater shield, and a .45 cal. Why?"

"Where are they?" Among approximately three-dozen deceased, not a single blade or firearm was to be found. As something was amiss and the mission parameters needed to be updated, they spread out to investigate as best they could. It could lead to valuable insight as to the situation within the Sinner's Tower.

Blake crouched next to one body in particular. The claw marks and bites did not match the size and shape of any Grimm she knew. Paying respect to the dead who, unwillingly or not, died fighting for a greater purpose, she reached to close the wide-open eyes staring blankly ahead. With her fingers so close to the wounds, the spacing was eerily comparable. Tracing one pattern with her fingers revealed their humanoid origin. Looking to another body, she found another with similar claw marks, along with bite marks, leading to only one ghastly conclusion that she shared with the others. "They turned on each other."

It made no sense from a self-preservation perspective to betray their 'camaraderie', likely all that they had in this pit. Survival would be the only priority, and treachery should have been unthinkably stupid.

Less than a hundred meters from the gate, Yang found the first body with a unique death. She could only see a single wound, not from fangs, claws, fists, or rocks, but instead by blade. It was then that she heard the clang of metal against stone, and a sharp inhale. She called out, "We got a live one!"

The lone survivor wore a VSDF uniform, someone with a rank that she didn't know. Pip attempted to stabilize her along with Pyrrha and Ren. Though weakened, dehydrated, and bleeding from several spots, her grip on a Bowie knife remained strong. With her consciousness flickering back on, she attempted to drag herself toward the partially open gate, using the blade to help crawl forward without using the limp legs dragging behind.

She thrashed in their hold when they attempted to restrain her, constantly struggling against them with a single-minded focus to keep moving. So close to death, she was unaware and unable to recognize that she was no longer in harm's way, for the moment.

"Sergeant, stand down!" Pip yells the short brunette's rank to call for her attention.

"Back, you beasts!" Her reply was a frenzied screech and a slash towards his face. Catching her sloppy attack by the wrist, applied pressure disarmed the wounded soldier who did not react to anything except the knife hitting the ground. It was of extraordinary quality, beyond what any rank and file soldier would wield, with a multitude of steel and blackened red layers rippling across the surface.

"That's Jaune's!" Ruby shouted, but before she could grab it Hans beat her to it with a gloved hand. He cleaned the knife on his shirt before staring into the metal with hope.

"He's still alive." Blake heard his whispered statement of relief and remorse; the out of nowhere conclusion only serving to add yet another question as to what else was going on.

"Will she make it?" Ren asked Pip, choosing to think about it later, when there wasn't a life they could save quite literally in their hands.

"It's too late." Whatever force had been keeping her going had been ripped away, adding one more casualty to the pile. He laid her down and saluted in respect. "Frankly, it was astonishing that she had lasted this long, even with aura. Based on the drag marks in the dirt, she had crawled halfway across the battlefield."

Footsteps clattering upon stone alerted them to others approaching their position. A 40-man force occupied the gate's narrow opening. Their clothes consisted of two uniforms; one of VSDF and the other grey jumpsuit that all of the dead outside wore, meaning that they were those sentenced as Anathema. The guards had rifles, while the inmates had uniform swords, shields, and pistols.

"Identify yourselves!" After plodding through the massacre behind them, it was refreshing to see two groups with an institutional mistrust stand in unison, less so that it was against them.

"Major Pip Pandora, along with a squad of Huntsmen and Huntresses led by a veteran. Report!" Seeing a fellow soldier, especially one of superior rank, prompted the soldiers to stand at ease, but the residents remained battle ready.

"Reinforcements, at long bloody last! Stand down." It wasn't one of the soldiers that had spoken, but an Anathema of a more weathered appearance and age. He was short, but gaunt, with the only hair on his head being a goatee the color of pale ash. It was at his word that they lowered their weapons, but their suspicion remained. As the rescue party entered the fortress, not one jumpsuit turned their backs on the newcomers, showing them only their scar-covered faces.

They just stared, unblinking, heads turning to match their movements in a creepy fashion, but that was the only unison they had besides their uniform. Some gazed with apathy, others with scorn or suspicion, but a few held a hunger that they made a note to stay far away from. Only the ash goatee and cocoa brown eyes were welcoming in demeanor. "Former Major Djura Adel, at your service sir."

"The Powder Keg? I thought you were KIA." Nora piped up, as the man's record was another inspiration for her demolition style.

Djura chuckled, finding humor in her assumption. "Everyone wearing grey here is already dead missy, just not useless yet."

"You in charge, then? What happened here?" Yang demanded her answers.

"Month's gone by without so much as a Rapier Wasp, like they took a vacation or something. A certain someone didn't appreciate bait like us lazing about, so a brawl was mandated to 'chum the waters', so to speak. Half of the kennel went blood-drunk out of nowhere and started butchering everyone they could." Despite not wearing the uniform of a soldier, the leader stood and spoke with the discipline of his former rank.

The irony of people actively attempting to lure Grimm was not missed, but that was the purpose of this facility. Rather than allowing hordes to besiege Vale like the tides, bring the most enticing bait to them and whittle them down. Less Grimm attempts made people feel safer, which also brought down that statistic.

"Not all of them." Hans approached the de facto leader of the survivors and held up Yharnam, Jaune's Bowie knife. "Why did she have this?"

"Don't know, but she was bragging of how Warden gave it to her as a gift for three year's service here at the wonderful Tower of Iosefka. She was the appointed overseer of that mess outside."

"Tower of who? I thought that it was the Sinner's Tower." Weiss asked for clarification. Old ruins sometimes had different names over time from different sources, making the task of tracking history a difficult task. However, the name sung a familiar note.

"It was renamed about three years ago after the change in management. Call it whatever you like, but I'm not correcting my terminology to please some uppity hypocrite." He spat on the ground in disgust. "Now, what brings you out to our humble tomb?"

"Why did you not help her?" Pyrrha interrupted.

A woman with shark-like teeth cut in with a snort. "We left her out there, pumpkin, because backstabbing bitches get left outside, or throat slitting in her case."

"Enough, Sable. If you're bored enough to be rude to our guests, go do inventory in the armory." His rebuke made her snarl, but she slunk away when he waved her off with his sidearm. "We're getting off topic. Why are you here with some fresh-faced brats, Arc?"

"My son was shipped here a month ago, without trial. We aim to correct that error." He curtly answered, showing a picture of Jaune on his scroll.

"Did she now? This calls for a celebration!" The news prompted the locals to howl like vicious hounds, their lust for blood palpable. "Our magnanimous host, the 'most honorable' Confessor Doria Cotton, has been a collective cactus in the ass since she took over, and now comeuppance arrives at last."

"Her future is not my concern, do with her as you please. Where would he be?" Hans sounded callous, but he had been delayed long enough.

"Best ask her yourself, but she hasn't left the tower since she came back with the last shipment of fresh meat."

The material used in its construction of said tower looked to be stone, yet it was impossibly smooth to Nora's touch. While she was no architect, even a layman could see that the ramparts were built in a far more modern age. While strong, they lacked the pure finesse and craftsmanship that its tenant held.

The sole imperfection of the cylindrical structure was a reinforced door framed by an ornately decorated archway. At its apex was the symbol of an eye, its design virtually identical in every detail to the amulet hidden on Ruby's neck. Symbols were scrawled around it that Weiss barely recognized as Pthumerian. She could not read them, as they were illegible due to both time weathering them down, and the decreasing light as the sun continued its descent.

Oddly, the locking mechanism was not hidden within, but on the outside. It was engineered not to stand as a bulwark, but as the door to a cage. Said door proved its durability as a loud gong clapped like thunder, hit with great force from the inside, coincidentally as direct sunlight no longer radiated upon even the tower's peak. The reddish glow from the tower bled away, and all that remained was pitch black.

The time for introspection had passed, as someone blew a deep bellow with the horn on the wall. Either bolstered by the noise, or by what it meant, the efforts of the indoor would-be escapee redoubled. Dents began to bulge out.

"Clank your shields and announce your curses! Vacation is over." Djura shouted at the people that remained unoccupied.

"UMBASA!" The courtyard became a swarm of activity around the now ignored students and veterans, with the Anathema shouting boasts of their upcoming glories and bets before heading out to their eventual graves. One bet that stood out as they ran out was, "The survivor with the smallest kill-count of is on bonfire duty!"

On the back of the jumpsuits was an embroidered symbol of an open eye. While streamlined of any ornate details, it bore an uncanny resemblance to the loaned amulet in Ruby's safekeeping, and in the arch above them. The symbol that branded them for who they were, and the chance of that being a coincidence was slim.

Meanwhile, Pip assumed command of the guards heading up to the top of the walls.

"Mr. Arc, what do we do?" Ren asked. If they all went inside, they'd leave the forces at a third of their strength, and with the high possibility of being overwhelmed. But if they didn't, then that would give more time for one of the frenzied currently batting down the door to find Jaune, who might be unable to handle this precarious situation in whatever state he's in.

The veteran appraised them and their weapons. "Belladonna, Ren, Xiao-Long, Nikos! You four handle the tower as you're better armed for fighting in tight corridors. And if you find any more of his weapons, leave them be. The rest of you, up on the walls with Pip and provide ranged support."

The door cracked open a bit wider after the strange warning, searing the unfortunate victim right in front of the breach. With no time to spare, the team separated for their assignments. The aforementioned quartet would continue their original mission while the others took a more familiar role for Huntsman and Huntresses, the protection of Mankind against Grimm.

"Fortune smiles upon you all." Ren relayed to his friends, but looked directly at Nora as he spoke, who gave him a hearty wave.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Same to you, bestie. Come on, ladies, let's kick SOME IMMATERIAL BUTT!" Nora shouted as she followed Ruby and Weiss up. Despite how these circumstances came to pass, this was almost a dream come true. She would get to see not one spiritual mentor in action, but two at the same time! Nora Valkyrie was a lucky lady indeed. If her Ren was by her side, then it would be perfect, but she'd make do with a Dust specialist and a kickass scythe sniper, a true showing of girl power!

"Just wish Gear hadn't broken on my last mission." Djura commented, and Ruby could hear the mournful loss of his preferred tool of destruction. She sympathized for the man.

"Give me the schematics before you leave. I'll whip one up in honor of your promotion." Hans offered.

"Mighty kind of you, big guy. It'll be a pleasure to hunt alongside professionals again. This rabble might get the job adequately done, but…" That was the last they heard before the two veterans walked out of earshot.

"What promotion?" Nora asked.

"After this debacle, there's no chance that Cotton will keep her job as Warden if I have any say in the matter, which I do." Pip provided. Based on the interactions they had been witness to, as well as knowledge of his record, he was the most qualified man for the job. "And as for you young ladies, feel free to take shots where and when you can. Not too much, cause they need to let off steam, or they might cause more accidents than usual."

"Dakka! DAKKA! DAKKA!" They heard the chanting getting louder by the moment. The primal, brutish war cry was the first time they had heard the Grimm come close to imitating speech, though they were not in the right state of mind to appreciate it.

"What is that? It's beginning to give me a headache." Weiss complained at what felt like a nail biting through her skull, and Pip quickly provided the answer.

"Primals, by the sound of it." The invaders began to swarm over the hills, finally in sight at last. These Primals were bulky humanoids that varied in height from Nora to Hans in height, the first they have encountered that were not based off of animals in some fashion. Hunched over as they all were, the savage foes could have been much taller and broader than any human. The larger variants had bulkier armor, but said armor almost seemed random in each design, barring thick gauntlets. However, each appeared to be vicious in close quarters combat.

"DAKKA!"

"All right, you fuckin' meatbags! How do we like to party?" The Powder Keg's 'battle cry' brought cheer in the face of death, and focused their rage upon their arriving guests.

"DAKKA!"

"WITH BLADES AND BULLETS!"

"What do we offer our guests?" The drums began to play; the raw and heart pounding beat drove the Anathema practically frothing.

"DAKKA!"

"OUR PRAYERS!"

"How shall we pray for these fuck-ugly vermin?" The horn joined into the noise.

"NO PITY! NO REMORSE! NO FEAR!" Their thunderous answer snapped the last bit of restraint they possessed as they hurled themselves towards the enemy with a fury rivaling the eternal foe.

"DAKKA!" Whatever cohesion the defenders had was lost upon impact with their enemy. All that remained of both sides was a mob that lusted for violence.

She pondered how this mindless savagery made Jaune at his worst… restrained by comparison. If this behavior were considered normal to Anathema, then perhaps this borderline inhumane protocol was necessary to public safety. 'Lord knows how many Grimm these 'people' would draw to towns or Vale itself, even if it wasn't their fault.'

If she had joined the clergy like her brother had intended last they met, and knowing what she knew now, she'd nominate the soon to be rescued Arc for sainthood, his alternate faith be damned.

But this was not a one-sided battle, and as black smoke dispersed in the air above, so too did blood pour onto the ground below. Half of these prisoners, mostly those closer to her age or a bit older, showed no form of training beyond not to stab or shoot each other by accident. That observation proved to be shoddy, as two of them bumped into each other from the bustle, and immediately decided to settle this affront with blades. This spat was short-lived, as they were cut down by a larger Primal who took advantage of their poorly timed animosity.

Their elders, who must have had more experience, were more focused, but only a step above the wild animals next to them.

Around them, the Grimm were being shot at with sniper fire. It took around four shots to down one of the smaller Primals, or two of Ruby's higher caliber ammo. These Primals proved to be more than above average in durability, but the 'infantry' cut down most of those being shot, taking advantages where they could. Whether this was a practiced tactic, or by the berserkers instinctively sensing weakness, was impossible to discern.

Yet, despite the Anathema's lack of discipline, and despite the occasional infighting, they held the Dark back, paying little mind to such 'petty' concepts as pain or self-preservation. Even as Djura was skewered on a bone spike, that did not stop him from returning the favor with a sword in its throat, and a bellow from his own. Taking a breather, he rejoined the fight a bit slower, with his compatriots showing little concern.

Throughout the battle, they saw no flash of aura breaking from any of the casualties, meaning they had the condition of being unable to form an aura shield. Professor Matin had mentioned that it was a rare condition, and there were Hunters who thrived in spite of it, Djura being a first hand example. However, so many in one place was not coincidence, but a pattern.

With many attackers and few on defense, several Grimm were breaking through the line. Ruby couldn't help but point it out, even as her head began to throb from the bombastic cacophony of metal. "There should be plenty of negativity right there for them to be drawn to. Why are they still charging?"

"They're greedy and stupid, that's why! Why stop for an appetizer when you can have a buffet?" Pip answered, shouting over the DAKKA war cry of the Primals, the screams of the warriors, and the music that assaulted them as much as the Grimm.

During this, the three saw some of what 'The Black Hammer' was capable of. He stood behind the front line, attracting the attention of any who passed through the grey line.

Hans Arc was not a particularly agile fighter, nor did he use anything that could be described as showing off. He didn't even move his feet, letting the howling Primals come to him, swinging with a deceptively languid ease like a day in the forge. His weapon passed through most Grimm like they didn't exist, subtly showing the immense strength of its wielder, while anything with the durability of C-class and above would be used as unwilling projectiles against their kin. As Ulthane, Nora knew its name, hit the ground after crushing another; she could feel a small tremor beneath her feet.

Any Grimm with a modicum of low cunning attempted to circle around the immovable force of nature, only to be cut down by rapid bursts of fire with pinpoint accuracy. Mr. Pandora covered his teammate, their tactic having proved itself time and time again.

"DAKKA! DAKKA!" And yet they kept coming, on and on. Nora could only watch, as her ammunition of choice would only cause collateral damage. Both grenades and Dust would have to wait until more open targets presented themselves. "Oh, screw this noise!"

Or she could use a grenade to the ground to launch herself into battle, patience warn too thin by doing nothing for so long. Thankfully a Primal with extended claws on its gauntlets did not make her wait. After dodging its initial slash, she slammed the back spike of Magnhild into its knee. While it did not mangle the leg as desired, the force still felled the beast. Over and over, the hammer rose and fell onto her downed foe, its arms protecting its chest and head.

"Will you. Just. Shut. UP!" The next strike, combined with an explosion upon impact, burst and crunched through the arms, flattening the howler's head into the earth. But the hammer kept going, rage driving the girl to make sure it was destroyed in its entirety, and the nails in her brain would go away.

Raising it for another swing, it stopped. Struggle as she might, she could not make her weapon come down. Another hand lightly gripped her shoulder. "Calm."

It was her role model's voice that snapped her out of a tunnel vision of red. Her heart felt like it was attempting a prison break in her ribcage. Taking deeper breaths, she finally looked around her and saw half a dozen more crushed, disintegrating bodies. They had been closing in on her, and she hadn't noticed. Nor had she noticed Hans guard her through her episode, and hold Magnhild still while Ren worked his magic.

"This was why I had you on the walls. Their effect increases with proximity." Hans seemed as collected as ever, a drastic difference from those finishing their battle close by.

"So that wasn't me?" She asked, no longer blinded by anger.

"It was, just amplified." That was the true threat the Primals delivered. Not their ferocity, but that which they inspire in their prey.

"Nora! Are you okay?" Ruby and Weiss caught up, pink residue on their skirts from Nora's dramatic entry into close quarters combat.

"Yeah, sorry about that." She apologized for losing control.

"It's fine. I was close to performing a similar action." Weiss rubbed her temples as the rage-induced migraine dissipated.

"I suggest getting behind me." Hans warned them. The music had stopped, the battle was ended, yet the prisoners still fought. This time, it was the more frenzied of the Anathema fighting each other.

"What are they doing? The fight is over!" Ruby expressed her disbelief that they would turn on each other so easily without the Grimm to focus on. A few of them, led by Djura, retained a shred of discipline and teamed up to knock out their brethren. One amongst this pack of beasts noticed the observers and recklessly charged at them. The only human thing about him was his flesh.

He was shot in the gut by a sniper, but the pain didn't appear to register. Hans stepped in and clotheslined the berserker with a massive arm, knocking both him and the one the impromptu projectile flew into unconscious in one decisive blow. "Let's finish what we came here for."

The veteran turned and walked back to the tower, and didn't stop when Ruby asked, "Shouldn't we help?"

"No." was his curt response, punctuated by the cracks of suppressing fire.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter End

It has been too long. As an apology, I will do my best to upload another chapter of More Insight in the near future, this chapter telling of how Hans Arc earned the epithet 'The Black Hammer'.

In case you were wondering what the beat was that the drum and horn were playing, look for the Orks theme from 'Dawn of War'… and now you know the inspiration for the Primals. Truth be told, 40k inspired a lot of things in this chapter, and that is likely to form a trend going forward.

Y'all know the routine. I ask for reviews, hopefully some of you give constructive criticism/praise, and I'm more motivated to write. Until next time!