Remnant's Calling

4x4: Damaged Report

The woodlands were stained beneath the pale moon's gaze in a piercing white sheen; the pungent smell of blood permeated the air, and resonating buzz of swarming flies barely overpowered the natural sounds of the forest. Under the fuzzy cloud of tiny flying scavengers lay the body of a man. His brown and beige jacket had massive tears with spatters of dark red lining the damaged edges of each laceration. Moreover, his teal shirt was torn from his collar to his pelvis, with smaller yet sizeable cuts along his chest, mostly over his heart and left lung. Much like his jacket, the holes were caked with crimson. Then, an indistinguishable shadow loomed over the body, and a soft-spoken voice soon emanated from the figure. 

"You fought hard, human; I'll commend you for that." The person kneeled and reached out, patting the man's shoulder. "I will make sure you are buried with respect. That is the least I can grant you for helping us escape." Moving to pick up the body gingerly, the person grabbed the left arm and pulled it toward themself, only for the presumed corpse to grunt haggardly. Immediately, they dropped him, and the body groaned again, then his head shifted and looked upward. "You lived?"

He leered at them, almost as if to say, what do you think? Grimacing, the Faunus grabbed the sides of the teal helmet and pulled it off quickly but with care. Blood caked most of the right side of his face, leading from his eye. It was hard to judge the damage as the area looked like a gaping hole.

"Here, I'll help you up," they tell him, carefully pulling him to his feet. "Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened? Is Taurus alive?" Fritz answered the first, meagerly shaking his head, then let out another labored breath. "Right," they said with a begrudging sigh and continued, "I know somewhere we can go so you can rest without worry."

A resounding grunt emanated from Fritz's near-limp body, expressing thanks as best he could. The Faunus shifted their body and hoisted him onto their back. "It'll be a while till we get there, and unless you have any objections, I will be carrying you this way."

Weakily, Fritz gave a half-hearted thumbs-up. "Good, then let's be off," they replied, nodding before readjusting their hold and taking off.  

⋯

The empty eyeholes of the familiar rooster mask greeted him upon opening his eye. "You are like a living play, " the Rooster mocked. Fritz saw the smile beneath that facade. "Comedy and Tragedy in a single body."

Instinctively, Fritz's body tensed; his fists balled, his brow narrowed, and his gaze turned to fire. "I know that look." The Rooster said, its beak cracking open with a hearty chuckle. "You're mad at your own incompetence, once again. Oh, I thought you had finally changed. But, alas—" The illusive being shook its head and joined its hand at the fingertips. "You have proven me wrong. Again." 

With a measured step, Fritz approached but stopped immediately, his icy blood freezing him in place. "You have no one to blame but yourself," Richard mocked, its voice sounding pouty. "You've been looking at the bigger and have yet to examine the finer details. Maybe that's where you should start. Instead of throwing a tantrum." Fritz's body buckled as his joints unlocked, and he fell to the dirty carpeted floor at the feet of Richard. 

 "I suggest you take this with you as well." Something hits the carpet beside his head with a heavy thud. He turns over to be greeted by the matte grey of his old tape recorder. "Now wake up. There's breakfast." 

Darkness seeps in from the edges of his vision until it's fully consumed. However, something bites at his nose, something that smells nice. "Hey, wake up; I made us breakfast." His muscles and joints popped and whined as he sat up, the sun's peach light and the morning's chill greeting him. "Here, it is not much, but it's all I managed to scrounge together." 

Scraps of assorted foodstuffs and a half-clean silver fork lay lazily atop the porcelain plate. It's barely enough to feed a small child, but it will do for now. Fritz expresses as much thanks as he can and pulls his hands from beneath the white blankets, leaving the recorder beneath the covers. 

"I know now isn't the greatest time to ask, but can I ask you a few questions?" Their voice is frail, and their posture even more so. They tap their fingers together quickly and constantly. He nods while picking at the chunks of food; most look barely edible or expired. "First, allow me to introduce as our past interaction was under—" They paused momentarily, picking the proper words. "Poor circumstances. My name is Hope Creda, and I believe your name is Fritz."

He nods, grunting in confirmation. "Of course. Now, introductions aside, I wanted to know what happened two days ago at the Belladonna estate. Was Adam Taurus there? Did you kill him? Were any other White Fang hurt?" 

You really know how to break the ice, don't you? Fritz thought, burying his head in his palm with a long and heavy sigh. "I'm sorry if I'm overwhelming you with questions. I just—" He dismissed the apology with a frantic wave. Pain stings his face as his hand smacks against it, then transitions to pinching his nose's bridge. Ugh, what happened? Why can't I...?