Remnant's Calling

4x3: House Party

The disorienting stench of iron permeated the office, and a mess of first aid items littered the desk and floor. 

"What the hell happened?" Fritz demanded while he stitched a blood-gushing wound closed. "Who attacked you?" 

"Is now really the time to be asking questions?" Sienna Khan pressed, stifling a scream. 

Fritz grunted in reply as he closed the wound. "That should hold. For now, at least. Here, let's get you upright."  

Her chest heaves, and a barely suppressed scream fills the room as she's pulled upright. "Who are you, anyway?" Sienna questions through ragged breaths. "You clearly aren't a Faunus or part of the White Fang ."

"I am someone who's got a lot of questions. Come on; we're gettin' the fuck out of here." Instinctively, he puts her arm on his shoulders and helps her up, then to the door with a minor struggle. "Hey, your flawless queen is up and dandy!"

"I am no queen or leader," Sienna muttered with a sharp grunt, earning a side-long glance from her temporary medic. "I'm just a figurehead. Someone to blame."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your sob story to yourself. You can pour your heart out when you aren't stuck six feet deep in a seven-foot pile of shit."

Rounding the corner, the hospitable Belladonna family stood before Khan's entourage. However, their conversation doesn't last as Ghira spots them first. 

"Don't worry, buddy, your successor is fine. She'll be hunky dory," Fritz denotes, letting the White Fang member take their leader. "Besides, all of you need to get out of here. Whoever did this will be following the blood trail, and I'd prefer you get out of my way." 

"And where do you suggest we go?" Snapped the masked Faunus. 

Fritz turns, checks his weapon, and sets the biker helmet on his head, with only his mouth visible. "Anywhere but here, so get going. I'm certain they'll be here soon. And don't worry about me; I've been through worse."

The Faunus moved to argue, but the piercing sound of various explosions silenced any attempt to dissuade the man.

"You'd better make it out alive, Fritz," Blake stated as her father ushered them all out of his way. 

Without missing a beat, Fritz sprinted forward, readying his smg and pulling a butcher's cleaver from his jacket. He hugs the wall and steadies himself as footsteps grow closer, then he takes them by surprise, running the knife through their neck and out the other side. Those following were instantly gunned down before they could ready their weapons. Running over their bodies, Jacket slides new lead into his gun and wipes the cleaver's bloody edge on his sleeve. He rounds the corner, gun raised, and kills two more grunts with expert precision within the blink of an eye. A cacophony of echoing stomps descend around him, but he doesn't care as he slaughters another with his cleaver and then shoots another three down the hall from himself. Taking cover, he reloads his gun as more pour into the hallway and then peeks quickly, noting how many there are. Swinging into the open, Jacket lets loose a hailstorm of lead killing most of his assailants; however, two barely escape his first volley and rush him with their weapons up. But Jacket is ready as he guts one and cleaves the other in half at the waist. With a practiced flick, blood flies from the knife's edge while he moves to engage another fastly approaching onslaught. He rushes the door and fires as three enter his view, then slices a fourth's throat. A dozen more flank and push him further into a corner, their gunfire destroying the walls and floor behind him. Darting into a room, his ears pound with the sound of his heart, but Jacket remains steady as he reloads again. He draws a breath before peeking out, partially blind-firing at his assailants. While they take cover, he steps out, still firing, and dashes forward with his butcher's knife ready. Jacket cuts them down like a scorching knife through melting butter until nothing remains but a bloody mire of mangled corpses. Wiping away the blood, he presses toward the front door, checking what ammo he has left, which, unfortunately, was only one magazine in reserve. He cursed to himself as he rounded a corner with the front door coming into his view. 

"Human, why do you interfere?" A gruff, masculine voice demanded with haughty disdain. "Why kill all those Faunus? Faunus who want nothing more than to protect their families! Or did it not matter who they were? Did you see them as monsters all the same?" 

Peering through the door's glass opening, Jacket counts three or four figures at least two dozen feet away. A low-pitched sound emanates from his helmet as he sucks in a breath.

"If you come out now, I'll grant you the mercy you gave them," the faceless male offered, appealing even. Then, a dim red glint stained the wall before him. "I will not make this offer a second time."

Beneath his helmet, Jacket's gaze slid to the matte wall from the gleaming red light, and then he paused, chuckling to himself moments later, all the while shaking his head. He shifted from one leg to another, forcing himself to open the door and step outside. 

"Adam Taurus?" Jacket questioned in an orotund way. Despite barely sustaining any damage, he almost limped to these new threats. "I've got a bullet with your name on it." He stopped ten feet away and steadied himself, straightening his back.

"Then I take it you've resigned yourself to your fate, hm?" The male Faunus taunted matter-of-factly. Beneath the biker helmet, Jacket's features hardened, and his hand tightened around his cleaver's handle. "Well, let's just get this over with then," he mused, gripping the long sheath at his hip. Then, with a practiced motion, he pulled a vibrant crimson sword from the says and took his stance. Its sharp end aimed at Jacket's heart.