Jaune and the Real Girl.

Chapter 15

Vasily looked out the window at the dark little village. The only light was the pale glow of the moon outside reflected off the snowy streets and the soft orange glow of tobacco leaves burning as he puffed on his cigar.

The power was out but his faunus eyes had little need of dust powered light. The village was the perfect hunting ground. Like the one he had tracked the android and the Arc boy down to it was abandoned, though only recently. The small mining town had only recently evacuated from grimm activity and unlike the three one it wasn't going to be so easily abandoned by the SDC.

Bonnie had told him that the recent contract to help clear the village from the grimm had been accepted so he found himself here waiting for his prey. He watched the silent grimm skulk about the empty town aimless and wandering and with little idea he was here watching them through the window of some child's bedroom. He idly wondered about it's former occupant, was he still alive in Mantle with his family awaiting to return home once the huntsman had cleared out the grimm? Or had he perished when the grimm first came?

It was inconsequential to him ultimately, the grimm had given him the opportunity to lure in some easy prey. Whoever had formerly slep here was beneath his notice. He smirked as he watched an oblivious ursai lumber through the snowy street, Grimm were attracted to negative emotions and nothing pleased him more than a hunt.

The distant and familiar boom of a gunshot killed the quiet. A shotgun Vasily guessed, it wasn't the sharp piercing crack of a rifle, it was louder but duller, a noise that he was familiar with.

He smirked as he dropped his cigar onto the floor and stamped it out with his boot. This was what he had been longing for, a return to his life's pleasure. He pulled a flask from his jacket and gave himself a swig of brandy to mark the occasion. Be pulled his balaclava to protect his face from the hash winds and a new set of goggles.

More gunfire in the distance. His prey was fully engaged with the grimm as he had planned. He opened the window and leapt out across the street onto the adjacent roof. He focused his goggles out over the distance spotting his approaching target.

A lone figure approached the village on a snowmobile. The grimm charged the huntsman only to be felled by blasts from his shotgun. A bold approach Vasily mused, he wondered if the huntsman was deliberately drawing the grimm out of the village to avoid potential collateral damage or he was simply brash charging them head on.

He grabbed his scroll and linked in with the program Bonnie had designed for him. It detected the huntsman's own scroll and established a connection letting him observe his target's aura levels.

He watched closely as the huntsman blasted down beowolves and ursai and sabyrs before dismounting. He reloaded his weapon as more grimm charged him staying cool and calm as he slid the shells in. Before the grimm closed the distance he raised his weapon and fired. Each pull of the trigger a grimm died as the buckshot shattered open their bodies and skulls sending them to the ground to turn into black smoke.

As the huntsman's gun ran empty it shifted morning into a long handled axe. It descended and cleaved the skull of an ursai. Vasily watched idly as his prey worked though the various grimm trying to over run him. Some were lucky enough to get a strike or two in and damage his aura. He was a simple brute and by the look of his aura gauge he was using it to enhance the power of his blows more often than not.

A powerful fighter, someone only a brash fool would attack head on. But he wasn't a real warrior, he wasn't like Arc. He was careless, using his aura offensively instead of conserving it to protect him. His fight was a least a spectacle, as much spectacle as watching a gorilla fight a pack of feral dogs. Entertaining sure but nothing of true interest to him. The Huntsman had more than enough strength and aura and raw brutality for the grimm, and like a pack of feral dogs these grimm used no coordination or tactics to get the better of him. They were feral beasts driven by raw instinct, and they were slaughtered like beasts.