vode635
Bust :(
It was either sometime in the late night or early morning, but nobody on the factory floor knew for sure. The owners of the company had removed the clocks long ago. The sounds of clinking glass and rustling cardboard were only rarely punctuated by what snippets of conversation. The bosses didn’t like small talk, or any talk not relating to the job for that matter. It distracted the workers that wore the aprons with the white snowflake emblazoned on them. Every person on the packing floor had either a tail or a set of ears or some other unique animal trait that gave away their true nature. These were faunas. Mostly indentured workers trying to repay a debt of some sort or another. The man who walked the catwalks above however had no such animalistic features. He was a human, and proud of it. This was clear in the way he chose to look down on the people below, figuratively as much as literally.
The factory compound was surrounded by a tall, high-voltage electric fence. Dust was a valuable commodity and the demand for it had risen sharply recently in the wake of several robberies in the distant kingdom of Vale. The Schnee Dust Company made huge profits from this factory, not in small part because of the barely legal working conditions.
A pair of trucks bearing the Schnee company logo pulled up to the gate, and with a swipe of a badge the barriers were pulled back and the vehicles were driven around the far side of the building where they backed into an empty loading dock. The trucks had barely stopped moving when their rear doors slid open and a dozen masked men poured from them. They were all armed, and all wore the distinctive red mark of the White Fang on the back of their white tunics. The White Fang had been in a struggle against the Schnee family your years, and tonight they planned to strike a major blow.
In carefully rehearsed silence the infiltrators split into teams and spread out across the facility. The handful of security guards were quickly knocked unconscious and bound without a sound. Then the leader of the terrorists, a larger faunas with a lions tail, walked onto the packing floor with a dozen of his followers in tow. He fired a shot into the air with his sidearm and jumped onto the nearest table as all the workers in the room screamed and ducked for cover.
“My brothers and sisters.” He proclaimed loudly as his followers fanned out through the crowded room. “This is the hour of your liberation. We have not come to harm you, but to bring justice to your oppressors. Do not interfere, and you will return to your families.” The lion-faunas nodded a pair of the nearest henchmen towards the stairs to the catwalks above.
The two faunas noisily rattled up the metal stairs and headed towards the supervisor’s office at the end of the catwalk. The man had undoubtedly fled there to hide and call for help, but none would be forthcoming with the communication lines cut. The door was easily kicked down and the faunas leapt into the room, finding the man cowering behind his desk. But before they could lay their hands on him the lights in the office went out, and there was a soft “pfft pfft” from the doorway.
Both faunas fell to the floor in silent agony, wracked by electric shocks pulsing from the wads of putty that were now stuck to the back of their heads. Startled, the supervisor tried to cower further under his desk. He heard footsteps approach his hiding place, and the a soft ‘click’, and the large lights over the packing floor went dark leaving only the emergency lighting to illuminate the room in a soft orange glow. Then the padded footsteps moved away from him and out onto the catwalk.
The hooded figure making those steps quietly moved to the center of the catwalk where he could take in the entire room. He turned his face from right to left and back again, counting the terrorists and noting their armament. They had been spooked by the dimming of the lights, but this did not concern the hooded man. In his hands he held a strange weapon, seeming to be a rifle with a massive axe head attached to the end of it. Its name was engraved on the large blade. Spina Tyrannorum. Thorn of Tyrants.
He saw that the terrorists were gathering human hostages, and ushering the faunas workers out of the building. A few of the masked intruders were placing demolitions charges. There was little time. The man with the rifle leapt over the catwalk railing and fell down towards a faunas standing just beneath him, his eyes beginning to glow as he fell. For the hunter, time seemed to slow to a near standstill as his mind and eyes began working faster and faster. The seconds it took him to fall the thirty feet to the floor below, seemed to take nearly a minute. In that minute he had fired three electrified putty bullets at the skulls of the most heavily armed of the terrorists. They all fell to the ground in the same instant that he crushed a fourth terrorist into the ground. The hunter rolled forward towards a masked faunas that was turning towards him and rammed his shoulder into his targets gut before delivering a left uppercut and seizing the faunas by the collar. He hefted his victim and charged towards the terrorists who were now trying to shoot him through his improvised shield.
Nearing a bull-faunas the hunter spun his rifle in his left hand and it morphed into a large two handed axe. He plowed into the bull faunas with his meat shield before dropping the unconscious piece of armor and launching himself into a series of spinning swipes that carried him across the packing room floor. Swinging low, then high, and again low the White Fang acolytes fell quickly and painfully. A few of the terrorists attempted to shoot him from across the room, but the hooded figures eyes briefly glowed and he planted his stun bullets in their foreheads with a flick of his wrist.
In a matter of seconds the floor had been cleared of the terrorists, save for the lionesque leader standing atop a table. The man wielding the axe/rifle fired a string of shots towards the faunas, his target blocked every round with a set of steel blades he pulled from behind his back. The hooded figure grinned and stared at the other man for a moment. His left hand then opened a pouch on his bandolier and pulled out a bright yellow can with the word ‘SPIKE!!!!!!’ printed on it. Still quietly staring at the faunas he opened the can with one hand and chugged the entire contents.
Throwing the empty can aside, the hunters small grin morphed into the toothy smile of a maniac. Behind the goggles his eyes glowed brilliantly green. Then with a sound halfway between a laugh and a roar the hooded launched himself at the lion faunas. His struck at the faunas in a fevered pitch forcing his victim to stumble backwards constantly on the defensive. Every time the criminal though he had an opening to attack he found his strike blocked just barely after beginning it. The hooded hunter seemed to anticipate every swing, every step that the lion man made.
But the truth was different. The green eyed man could not read his enemies mind. Nor did he have some supernatural precognitive ability or celestial voices whispering in his ear. The truth was more mundane than that. This hunter was Grenian Canton. The Green Hood. Unlike other hunters his semblance had no effect on his body or the world around him aside from the freakish green glow of his eyes. The effect of his semblance was internal. For seconds at a time, or longer with sufficient fuel, his mind could process information at incredible speeds. So fast in fact, time seemed to slow down to him. With every move his enemy made, no matter how fast or sudden, Grenian had ample time to see the attack and plan for it. A blow that takes a blink to land for any person takes seconds to reach Grenian in his semblance.
Grenian wielded his axe deftly, sometimes like a stave and sometimes like a halberd. With every strike that the lion man barely seemed to doge or block Grenian planned and waited for the time for the perfect blow. There. With a slow-moving sweep towards the faunas’ head Cobb saw the man raise both his blades in a block while leaning backwards. Grenian simply collapsed his weapon mid swing, and extended it fully when it cleared the double blades. The blunt end of the axe blade caught the faunas cleanly in the throat and sent him flying into the brick wall behind him. His skull cracked loudly against it and he slumped to the floor unconscious.
Grenian glanced around the room and saw that only the factory employees were still standing. Though most of them were cowering beneath tables or behind columns. He ignored them and walked to the unconscious terrorist, pulling a scroll from the criminals’ pocket. Then shouldering his weapon, he fired a grappling spike into the ceiling and ascended the steel cable up to the catwalk above. The supervisor was still hiding when Grenian entered the office, but it didn’t matter. Grenian saw the things he needed. The safe was in the corner, and Cobb found the combination to it written on a scrap of paper in the desk.
When Grenian opened the safe he began emptying it of the cash. Then he heard the supervisor rustling around behind him. “What, what are you doing?” The man asked Grenian. Without pausing Grenian replied “I’m robbing you.” With no more cash in the safe he stood and looked at the man behind him, who had a look of utter confusion on his face. Grenian smirked again, before opening the window and disappearing into the night leaving behind only a small wooden arrow in the safe.
A few weeks later, all the faunas who worked at the packing plant received packages from an anonymous sender. They each contained a thick wad of Lien, and a small wooden arrow.
The factory compound was surrounded by a tall, high-voltage electric fence. Dust was a valuable commodity and the demand for it had risen sharply recently in the wake of several robberies in the distant kingdom of Vale. The Schnee Dust Company made huge profits from this factory, not in small part because of the barely legal working conditions.
A pair of trucks bearing the Schnee company logo pulled up to the gate, and with a swipe of a badge the barriers were pulled back and the vehicles were driven around the far side of the building where they backed into an empty loading dock. The trucks had barely stopped moving when their rear doors slid open and a dozen masked men poured from them. They were all armed, and all wore the distinctive red mark of the White Fang on the back of their white tunics. The White Fang had been in a struggle against the Schnee family your years, and tonight they planned to strike a major blow.
In carefully rehearsed silence the infiltrators split into teams and spread out across the facility. The handful of security guards were quickly knocked unconscious and bound without a sound. Then the leader of the terrorists, a larger faunas with a lions tail, walked onto the packing floor with a dozen of his followers in tow. He fired a shot into the air with his sidearm and jumped onto the nearest table as all the workers in the room screamed and ducked for cover.
“My brothers and sisters.” He proclaimed loudly as his followers fanned out through the crowded room. “This is the hour of your liberation. We have not come to harm you, but to bring justice to your oppressors. Do not interfere, and you will return to your families.” The lion-faunas nodded a pair of the nearest henchmen towards the stairs to the catwalks above.
The two faunas noisily rattled up the metal stairs and headed towards the supervisor’s office at the end of the catwalk. The man had undoubtedly fled there to hide and call for help, but none would be forthcoming with the communication lines cut. The door was easily kicked down and the faunas leapt into the room, finding the man cowering behind his desk. But before they could lay their hands on him the lights in the office went out, and there was a soft “pfft pfft” from the doorway.
Both faunas fell to the floor in silent agony, wracked by electric shocks pulsing from the wads of putty that were now stuck to the back of their heads. Startled, the supervisor tried to cower further under his desk. He heard footsteps approach his hiding place, and the a soft ‘click’, and the large lights over the packing floor went dark leaving only the emergency lighting to illuminate the room in a soft orange glow. Then the padded footsteps moved away from him and out onto the catwalk.
The hooded figure making those steps quietly moved to the center of the catwalk where he could take in the entire room. He turned his face from right to left and back again, counting the terrorists and noting their armament. They had been spooked by the dimming of the lights, but this did not concern the hooded man. In his hands he held a strange weapon, seeming to be a rifle with a massive axe head attached to the end of it. Its name was engraved on the large blade. Spina Tyrannorum. Thorn of Tyrants.
He saw that the terrorists were gathering human hostages, and ushering the faunas workers out of the building. A few of the masked intruders were placing demolitions charges. There was little time. The man with the rifle leapt over the catwalk railing and fell down towards a faunas standing just beneath him, his eyes beginning to glow as he fell. For the hunter, time seemed to slow to a near standstill as his mind and eyes began working faster and faster. The seconds it took him to fall the thirty feet to the floor below, seemed to take nearly a minute. In that minute he had fired three electrified putty bullets at the skulls of the most heavily armed of the terrorists. They all fell to the ground in the same instant that he crushed a fourth terrorist into the ground. The hunter rolled forward towards a masked faunas that was turning towards him and rammed his shoulder into his targets gut before delivering a left uppercut and seizing the faunas by the collar. He hefted his victim and charged towards the terrorists who were now trying to shoot him through his improvised shield.
Nearing a bull-faunas the hunter spun his rifle in his left hand and it morphed into a large two handed axe. He plowed into the bull faunas with his meat shield before dropping the unconscious piece of armor and launching himself into a series of spinning swipes that carried him across the packing room floor. Swinging low, then high, and again low the White Fang acolytes fell quickly and painfully. A few of the terrorists attempted to shoot him from across the room, but the hooded figures eyes briefly glowed and he planted his stun bullets in their foreheads with a flick of his wrist.
In a matter of seconds the floor had been cleared of the terrorists, save for the lionesque leader standing atop a table. The man wielding the axe/rifle fired a string of shots towards the faunas, his target blocked every round with a set of steel blades he pulled from behind his back. The hooded figure grinned and stared at the other man for a moment. His left hand then opened a pouch on his bandolier and pulled out a bright yellow can with the word ‘SPIKE!!!!!!’ printed on it. Still quietly staring at the faunas he opened the can with one hand and chugged the entire contents.
Throwing the empty can aside, the hunters small grin morphed into the toothy smile of a maniac. Behind the goggles his eyes glowed brilliantly green. Then with a sound halfway between a laugh and a roar the hooded launched himself at the lion faunas. His struck at the faunas in a fevered pitch forcing his victim to stumble backwards constantly on the defensive. Every time the criminal though he had an opening to attack he found his strike blocked just barely after beginning it. The hooded hunter seemed to anticipate every swing, every step that the lion man made.
But the truth was different. The green eyed man could not read his enemies mind. Nor did he have some supernatural precognitive ability or celestial voices whispering in his ear. The truth was more mundane than that. This hunter was Grenian Canton. The Green Hood. Unlike other hunters his semblance had no effect on his body or the world around him aside from the freakish green glow of his eyes. The effect of his semblance was internal. For seconds at a time, or longer with sufficient fuel, his mind could process information at incredible speeds. So fast in fact, time seemed to slow down to him. With every move his enemy made, no matter how fast or sudden, Grenian had ample time to see the attack and plan for it. A blow that takes a blink to land for any person takes seconds to reach Grenian in his semblance.
Grenian wielded his axe deftly, sometimes like a stave and sometimes like a halberd. With every strike that the lion man barely seemed to doge or block Grenian planned and waited for the time for the perfect blow. There. With a slow-moving sweep towards the faunas’ head Cobb saw the man raise both his blades in a block while leaning backwards. Grenian simply collapsed his weapon mid swing, and extended it fully when it cleared the double blades. The blunt end of the axe blade caught the faunas cleanly in the throat and sent him flying into the brick wall behind him. His skull cracked loudly against it and he slumped to the floor unconscious.
Grenian glanced around the room and saw that only the factory employees were still standing. Though most of them were cowering beneath tables or behind columns. He ignored them and walked to the unconscious terrorist, pulling a scroll from the criminals’ pocket. Then shouldering his weapon, he fired a grappling spike into the ceiling and ascended the steel cable up to the catwalk above. The supervisor was still hiding when Grenian entered the office, but it didn’t matter. Grenian saw the things he needed. The safe was in the corner, and Cobb found the combination to it written on a scrap of paper in the desk.
When Grenian opened the safe he began emptying it of the cash. Then he heard the supervisor rustling around behind him. “What, what are you doing?” The man asked Grenian. Without pausing Grenian replied “I’m robbing you.” With no more cash in the safe he stood and looked at the man behind him, who had a look of utter confusion on his face. Grenian smirked again, before opening the window and disappearing into the night leaving behind only a small wooden arrow in the safe.
A few weeks later, all the faunas who worked at the packing plant received packages from an anonymous sender. They each contained a thick wad of Lien, and a small wooden arrow.
