Fusilier

The Test

        Dimitri stood before a great ebony door. Deep in his brain the ever present whisper of Salem's soft voice had grown into an uproar. Nearly trembling with excitement took a deep breath and pushed the door open. On the other side was a large conference table ringed around were chairs containing the majority of Salem's inner circle. When he had been introduced to this new circle he found himself surprised at its size.
    Before his isolation his mistress had always enjoyed few confidants in her war against man and faunus kind. It seemed that now she had set about building a network of spies and scientists. And with the White Fang she practically ruled an army. Although he did note one empty chair; Cinder was gone, one of Salem's favorites and a hopeful for gaining the Fall Maiden's powers. He grimaced at the idea of the maidens, an age ago he had come across one defending some ancient town he couldn't remember the name of. She was well trained and had caught his raiding party off guard. In the end Dimitri took her head but it cost him a good set of armor and an arm. A new one was attached well enough but he remembered how it felt when the old one separated.
    He guessed Cinder's little infiltration mission to Beacon was still ongoing and took his place standing near Salem at the head of the table. Ignoring the dull throb his memory had induced in his arm he observed the rest of gathered council. Noting with some small bit of satisfaction the glare that the nearby scorpion faunus shot him.
    From what he recalled of their introduction this man's name was Tyrian. Although the man was an accomplished killer he worshipped Salem as a goddess and as such Dimitri had noticed the resentment he harbored for Salem's long lost right hand. Across from him was the mountain of a man who had been introduced as Hazel. His massive frame was hidden beneath a large green coat. His skin was the color of caramel and when looking into his dark eyes it was evident that this dark fortress made him nervous. In brief indicator of this hidden emotion he absently brushed a lock of his medium length hair out of his face with a muscled hand. Beside him sat Cinder's empty chair and across from that sat the generally disinterested figure of Dr. Arthur Watts. Above the table his clothing was composed of a dark vest over a yellow button down. Over this was a simple black tie tied around his neck. Over everything he wore a dark grey overcoat with gold accents and at the ends of his thin arms was a pair of dark, fingerless gloves.
A bushy mustache covered his upper lip and his short hair was greying at the temples. His hands were tented on the tabletop and his head rested on them. His light green eyes gazed on everyone lazily. If he had caught on to Tyrian and Dimitri's quiet feud he hadn't said anything, but something about them seemed to amuse him.
"I see the prodigal son has returned. Tell me, how is your armor?" His posh accent communicated a sense of pride and superiority in his work
"Adequate," came the raspy reply.
"Good, I'd hate to see my work squandered while you hunt the White Fang's strays. And speaking of, how are those two little pets you picked up after Roman Torchwick's little mishap."
"They've proven capable warriors. I'm certain they will serve our purposes well."
    Watts rolled his eyes, "Ours or yours? All they really saw that day was this boy soldier you've been practically drooling over. So what if he killed a few White Fang? He's a huntsman-in-training, hardly something new."
    "Yes but he alone spilled blood. He is a warrior and I must test him. Like you would know whelp." His fist clenched and a low growl ended his speech.
    Before it could escalate Salem raised a single hand to silence him. "Now now Dimitri I'm afraid Dr. Watts has a point. I trust you haven't forgotten our plans for Ozpin and Vale. You cannot allow your new project to interfere with our goals." He backed down, head bowed and returned to his post beside her chair. When he had settled down she spoke again, "I understand that you see some potential in these two young men. I believe it would also interest you that Cinder reports that your sparing them from the punishment you visited on their comrades has caught the attention of Adam Taurus. It seems he is planning on placing them in officer roles among his soldiers." She smiled at him, "It is fortunate to have such allies within the White Fang is it not?"
    Dimitri nodded his ascent and smiled to himself. The pride of Salem's approval washed over him. She cleared her throat before continuing, "Now, I have assignments for all of you." She looked first to the assembled council at the table.
    "Hazel and Tyrian: as before you'll be going to Mistral. In the coming chaos you must be prepared to lay the foundation for our work there once Cinder has done her part. Dr. Watts, continue working with your contacts in Atlas and Vacuo. The White Fang will need supplies in the days to come and we'd be poor allies to let them down now." Finally she turned to face him again, "You are to continue working alongside the White Fang. The loss of Torchwick was a minor blow but it can be corrected. If young Taurus needs some 'assistance' in remembering his duty to our cause then remind him, but do exercise some restraint we still have need of him."
With their tasks assigned Salem's inner circle rose and made their way out of the room. There were a pair of bullheads waiting for them outside. Hazel and Tyrian climbed aboard the closest one and, with Hazel behind the controls, took off to the east. Dimitri, who had watched their takeoff, turned to the remaining aircraft and the impatient Watts who had already taken a position in the cockpit and was starting the engines. The fuselage door was barely closed before they were away and heading south to Vale.
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Dimitri stared out into the clear blue sky above Vale. Watts had dropped him off in the hangar of the White Fang's headquarters in the mountains just outside of Vale and Dimitri was was still watching his contrails fade into the distance. Looking back to his surroundings he inspected the base.
He had been told by his wards that it was an old facility from the days of the Faunus Revolution. One conveniently left out of both sides' attempts at demilitarization following the war's end. The hangar had been filled with bullheads, some fully equipped as gunships and others left in civilian configurations. The entire facility was a hub of activity: bullheads came and went every hour, dropping off more members of the White Fang and supplies. Further away he could see the cages, some empty and some inhabited by pacified grimm. Even from where he stood he could hear and feel the nearly imperceptible voice of Salem willing them to remain confined.
While he watched the activity before him he couldn't help but give Adam Taurus credit. Despite his many flaws the boy was quite popular. For weeks hundreds of sympathetic Faunus, some recruited locally and others being members of foreign chapters, had been shipped to this base as well as smaller outposts on the outskirts of and within Vale. By now he had to guess there were a couple thousand White Fang soldiers currently living among the citizens of Vale and they were none the wiser. The thought pleased him and deep down he believed that if he possessed the capacity, he would be smiling. If things went as planned he would soon be killing in glorious service to his mistress.
    He searched the crowds for the two faunus he had taken under his wing. Above the bobbing heads he saw a single hand pop up and begin frantically waving in his direction. After some struggling the man the arm belonged to stepped out. Now safely in the White Fang base, Tor had removed his mask and let his hood down. Without his hood a shock of dirty blonde hair bounced on his head. Besides keeping it above his shoulders he had done little else to style it and it had become a rat's nest. He stumbled slightly out of the crowd and turned back to glare into he crowd. His red eyes searching for some unseen tripper as his small rabbit's tail twitched with fury. Despite the new arm band and chevrons indicating him as an officer it seemed no one paid him any mind. Turning back he locked eyes with Dimitri and brightened somewhat. He approached with a proud strut and when he stopped he seemed to make an effort to puff his chest out.
He saluted Dimitri and grinned, "Hello sir-" he brought his arm up in a quick salute, "Lieutenant Tor Harriman at your service." Dimitri looked at him for a long time, amused at the display, "I heard you were being considered for a higher station. Tell me, where is your second?"
"Oh Bismuth? They have him handling getting the grimm loaded up. He's just over here." Tor turned and began walking back to the other end of the hangar. Trailing quietly behind Dimitri snaked his way through the crowd. Near the entrance to the hangar a slowly growing stack of cages was awaiting loading into a collection of nearby bullheads. Watching over all this was Bismuth, holding a clipboard and absently chewing something. Upon noticing them he perked up set the clipboard on a nearby crate. He gave Dimitri a crisp salute; his new chevron arm band in clear view, "Sir, I'm sorry I didn't meet you but I was otherwise occupied." He seemed nervous to potentially disappoint him. Despite this he managed to keep some form of confidence in his expression. His easy smile remained but he had stopped chewing. Bismuth's pale eyes attempted to search Dimitri's face but quickly determined that there would be no emotion from the pale bone that was his face. The only indicator were his eyes. Despite the two orbs being little else than glowing, red pinpricks in the sockets of the mask he thought he detected that they seemed amused.
    "It's quite alright. Despite my interest in the two of you I understand that you have certain other... commitments. Besides, I wish to speak with young Taurus first. Tor, if you would." The rabbit faunus took the hint and began leading him through the winding hallways and corridors of the mountain base. Everywhere White Fang members were at work, pausing only briefly to eye his armor. They passed countless armories and sleeping quarters before coming across a door flanked by two armed guards. They wore black uniforms with a red sash over their chest. Both of them clutched spears and eyed the pair suspiciously.
    One opened the door and conferred with its inhabitant. After a moment the guard reemerged and without another word, opened the door and allowed them to enter. The small office behind the door was sparsely decorated. Some small, framed pictures on the wall were joined in the corner by a number of filing cabinets. In the center of the room sat one of the only other pieces of furniture in the room, a large desk, on it was a map of Vale and its surrounding mountains and forests. Small flags dotted the surface. Above the desk hovered the Vale White Fang's leader. Adam Taurus was still wearing his mask and from his frown Dimitri could tell he wasn't exactly happy to see him.
"I see you've returned Dimitri." He looked past his guest and looked at Tor. "Ah Lieutenant Harriman, you won't be needed here I'm afraid. Please return to your post in Armory 3." He looked to Dimitri for guidance but he only nodded and waved him along. He waited until the door closed behind him before speaking, "Yes I have returned boy. I see your forces have been sufficiently bolstered. How goes your plans."
The frown on Taurus' face deepened, "Losing Torchwick has definitely hurt things but be assured we'll be ready. Especially with those shipments we've been getting form your friends."
"Good, I would worry so very much if your little train mishap disrupted my mistress' plans," the rasping voice was drowning in condescension.
Through gritted teeth Taurus replied, "Was there anything else you needed or was your purpose here to annoy me?" Dimitri held up his hands in mock apology, "Oh you misunderstand me, I am at your command for the time being. I need only guidance." The faunus sighed, "I'm certain I can think of something," he turned and walked to the filing cabinet in the corner. Dimitri stalked behind him and began to examine the framed pictures on the wall. Most prominent among them were two women. One was a tiger faunus of some sort he could tell as much from the stripes on her arms. From the briefings given to him by Dr. Watts he recognized her as Sienna Khan, the current High Leader of all White Fang cells across Remnant. Looking into her piercing eyes he found himself largely unimpressed. For someone he heard was revered for her diligence she seemed to be largely unaware of Adam's following and their goals. The other girl featured prominently was a young cat faunus with prominent, golden eyes. In many pictures she was wearing her own unique version of the White Fang's usual uniform. In most she clutched a sword with a long black ribbon attached.
From the amount of pictures Taurus seemed to own he assumed her to be important somehow. Although considering no one had bothered to mention her he determined the girl to be inconsequential. His musings were interrupted by Adam clearing his throat. In his hands he clutched a single, thin file. Immediately Dimitri was bored with his task. He knew immediately it would be another standard killing. Some other member of Adam's congregation that had lost their way and needed silencing.
    "Oh another of yours has turned I see," he took the file and flipped it open. "Your followers seem to be so unsure of themselves," he smiled inwardly when Adam grit his teeth at the comment. "So," the faunus asked. Dimitri clapped the file shut, "Consider his fate sealed but I'm taking Harriman and Gettys. If anything this whelp's life can be good practice for them." Again Adam grit his teeth at the demand. He wanted to lash out and put Dimitri in his place, whatever he was. But the risk of enraging his new allies stayed his hand. As frustrating as this mysterious cabal could be they were practically handing him everything he needed to set humanity ablaze. Instead he nodded his agreement.
    Dimitri didn't wait for Adam to speak again and strolled out the door. On the way to the hangar he grabbed Tor and bade him to follow. He did not speak until they reached the hangar and had collected Bismuth.
    After finding a quiet corner near some of the grimm crates he began his briefing. Holding up the file he opened it to show a single page and a photograph. The photograph was of some kind of lizard faunus. His skin was visibly scaly and the pupils of his large, black eyes were slitted. On the back of the picture was the name Thomas Falco. "I've been given a new target, and a new opportunity for the two of you. Another of your brothers has betrayed our cause. We are to eliminate him."
Bismuth spoke first, "Dimitri, sir, do what do you mean by an 'opportunity' for us?" Dimitri let out what almost seemed to be a pleased sigh, like a parent answering a small child. "Oh Bismuth, you've played enough with dummies and grimm. This pest has given us the perfect chance for some, what did you call it... oh yes, 'on the job training'." He looked back at the photograph and attached list of his personal details. "It seems this Falco plans to take a ship to Mistral tonight. That is when we strike, arm yourselves and meet me there at sunset. Don't be late." At that he turned and strolled further into the hangar leaving his two protégés to plan for themselves.
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    Dimitri watched the two faunus from his position among a stack of shipping containers. He had set them up in ambush positions near the boarding ramp of the ship Falco was set to take to Mistral. He could hear them whispering amongst themselves. Inwardly he disapproved of the small clicks as they nervously checked and rechecked their weapons. Despite his insistence they had both chosen to bring pistols along with their swords. He made a mental note to increase to more intensive sword training. He looked at his surroundings, letting his nostrils fill with the smell of the sea. The docks were mostly empty that night. He could see in the distance the small forms of workers packing up for the night and some small groups of ship crews preparing to make their ways below decks to rest. The ocean breeze carried a chill that he barely felt, due to his origins alongside Salem little but extreme temperatures really affected him. Settled into his plate armor he drew and examined his dagger. With his hand he caressed the segmented blade, his thumb brushing over the small button on its pommel.
    The weapon had been with him as long as he could remember. A gift from shortly after his creation made by an expert blacksmith sympathetic to Salem's cause. In the days when Salem's name was feared he had led armies of grimm against the towns and villages spanning the wilds of Remnant. He relished the memories of the terror he sowed for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the docks. By now the workers had cleared out and the only sounds were the sea and the buzzing flood lights around them. From the shadows they waited another hour before at last their prey revealed himself.
    The door of a nearby warehouse slammed shut as a dark clothed figure dashed out. It kept to the shadows as it made its way toward the moored ship they had posted themselves near. As it moved closer Dimitri's eyes adjusted to the darkness and got a good look at them. The short crew cut hair, the scaly skin and slitted eyes. Without a doubt the man in dark clothes was Thomas Falco. He could hear the whispered conversation between Tor and Bismuth stop as they shifted to ready positions.
Soon Falco was nearly on them, Dimitri tensed as he heard his footsteps on the ground beneath the container he was crouched on top of. He restrained himself from leaping on the faunus and waited to gauge their reactions. As he approached the gangplank they emerged, guns drawn. They had both exchanged their white tunics for darker clothes. They both wore dark jackets zipped up to their throats and jeans tucked neatly into black combat boots. With hands covered in disposable surgical gloves they pointed the pistols at their target.
"Running away Falco?" Tor spoke first, jabbing the pistol at the man like it were a finger. At the mention of his name he began reaching behind his back. From his position in the crates behind them Dimitri could see he was reaching for a combat knife tucked into the waistband of his pants. With a deft movement he quickly freed its grip from the edge of his turtleneck sweater and grabbed ahold of it.
"I see you've found me. You know you two should join me."
"And why is that," this time it was Bismuth who spoke.
"Because Adam has lost his gods damned mind. He means to start a war," While saying this he eyed the swords at their hips. At this Tor laughed, "Oh please it's cowards like you who just let humans walk all over us. This is the only way humanity is going to give us our due." The grip on the knife tightened.
"'Our due'? Well I apologize boys but, I tried to be reasonable." In a flash he drew the blade and rushed them. In their panic Tor and Bismuth fired on him but they were firing randomly. One round drilled itself into Falco's shoulder but the injury didn't seem to phase him.
Realizing that in the close proximity their pistols were little use they both dropped the firearms and reached for their swords. Falco leapt on Tor first, knocking him to the ground he raised his knife up to attempt a stab into his throat. Before he could Bismuth, who had just freed his sword from his hip, slashed at his arm. The blow was partially deflected as he brought up the knife to block it. The move only redirected the blade into cutting his shoulder.
Falco cried out with pain as his grip on the bade weakened. Sensing his opportunity, Tor reached up and grabbed the hand holding the blade with his left hand while he used his right deliver a powerful strike into his arm. Again came the cry of pain as he heard something snap in the limb. He wrenched the knife from Falco's hand and drove it into his stomach, burying it to the hilt. The faunus doubled over, holding his good hand over the wound, a low groan slipping from between his lips.
Seeing Falco's neck exposed, Bismuth raised his sword above his head and brought it down with powerful strike. The blade buried itself deep in the neck as he wrenched the blade free before bringing it down again. This time making it all the way through and severing Falco's head which landed on the concrete next to Tor's head. The ragged stump now spurting blood over the two of them.
Dimitri chose this moment to hop down from his perch among the crates. Clapping as he approached the two men. Tor shoved the body to the side and scrambled to his feet. He was attempting to spit blood from his mouth before glaring at Bismuth. As Dimitri approached they both turned to him, "Adequate work gentlemen. Sloppy but adequate." He reached the severed head and picked it up. Looking into the wide, shocked eyes he chuckled. Turning to the nearby dockside he threw the head to the dark waters below.
"Though I must commend you Bismuth. I always have enjoyed decapitations," He bent over the corpse now and examined the knife in its gut. "Fine work turning his own blade against him Tor. Though I am disappointed in both of you."
"Sir?" He jabbed an armored finger at the bullet wound in the corpse's shoulder. "This reliance on guns the both of you have. You were both unprepared when he charged you. I nearly needed to step in to keep you from getting a blade in the throat." Straightening back up he turned to both of them and pointed out at the ocean, "You will require more training before either of you are ready for the Vytal Festival. Now quickly get the body into the sea. The shots may have been heard and I'd rather leave this place before help comes."
It was the matter of a minute to heave the body into the dark waters below and leave the scene. On the outskirts of the dockyard they found the bullhead and its nervous, waiting pilot. Without a word they climbed on and the ship took flight, headed in the direction of the mountains south of Vale. As they flew Dimitri looked past the Vale skyline and at the shining lights of Beacon Academy. Already the halls of the Old Enemy were infiltrated and soon their agents would be using the nearby hovering arena to pave the way for the arrival of their main force. Deep down he was excited, he could nearly smell the blood and fear. In another part of his mind he thought the young soldier that had caught his interest. According to reports from Cinder he was a friend and teammate of the girl with silver eyes named McManus.
Quietly he repeated the name to himself, almost tasting the words. He felt a rising excitement at the thought of tracking him down and testing him. But he knew that his will was second to that of Salem. So he calmed himself and turned his thoughts to how better serve her.