what day is it
the last thing I remember is climbing a statue with a traffic cone
… You can't risk it. Whatever's back there could be a horrific force multiplier for the Grimm. Everything so far? 40 trainee Hunters can take care of them- have taken care of them without breaking a sweat.
All of the Grimm on the ship? At that point, the teachers and older students might have to step in.
But whatever's in there is big enough or dangerous enough to be isolated from the rest of the cargo. When it comes to Grimm, big almost universally translates to dangerous.
{What do you wanna do?}
The others are starting to leave- you hop on the Transistor and rush over, intercepting most of them.
"Wait," you call out, a brainwave occurring without the Transistor prompting it, a rarity. "Rashmi- you tried to answer my question in the future tense earlier. Think you can…?"
"Oh, um, yes, just a moment," the squat boy says, that yellow glow picking up behind his glasses. A few moments pass, and he frowns, before the light fades. "... No, no, it's gone. I apologise." The light picks up again, and his brow goes from frustration to concern. "Ah, um… P-Pila? I'm lost..."
Kapila reaches up and gently smooshes his cheeks between finger and thumb, forcing his lips into a kissy-face. You blink, everyone around them blinks, and the yellow glow picks up.
"... Cargo ship interior, Nora to my left, by Lie?" Rashmi says, surprisingly coherent through squished lips.
"Um, I prefer Ren, please," Ren says after a second.
"My apologies, Ren- but I am correct about where you are, yes?"
"Uh, yeah," Nora says. "What's… happening?"
The glow fades.
"Nothing to worry about- just a minor snag I run into on occasion," he says, waving at Pila to let go. "Thankfully, I have such an understanding partner."
Pila rolls her eyes.
"Your safety is my life's purpose, Lord Abha," she says, and under the flat sarcasm, you can tell she means every word.
{Message back from Port. Says it's two rare Grimm, special orders- Hags and a Vampyr.}
"Jaune?" Creme asks. "What's up?"
"... On the other side of this room there's a doorway to the aftward hold," you explain. "There are only two cages in there, and we haven't heard reports of the Imp being anywhere else."
Ren and Creme are the first off the mark- their eyes widen, comprehension and concern in equal measure in his expression. The rest pick up what you're saying not even a moment later.
"Hyu sink it might be try to freeing whatever's scary enough by themselveses to be held all alone?" Meri asks.
You nod.
"... I wanna check. If I'm wrong, we just walk back out. If we're right, we'll hopefully stop it before it manages to free them."
"An' if it's already freed summat?" Leathers asks.
"We run," Lumen says. "Do you have any idea what's in there, Jaune?"
"A Hag coven and a Vampyr."
Your classmates' faces pale quite a few shades. You can't blame them- those are big Grimm to be facing as fully-graduated Hunters, let alone as first-years. A long moment of silence passes, and you almost feel like they're all just waiting for someone else to break first and dash for the stairs.
"... It's best we check," Pyrrha says. "It already opened so many cages in just minutes of freedom- even if those Grimm are held in more secure cages, I don't think it'll be locked out long enough for us to get reinforcements."
"It has to be us," Al says, not as a declaration of determination- as his form shrinks, it sounds more like someone processing their imminent execution. "I-I-um-"
Meri grabs him by the shoulder.
"Hyu'z gonna be alright, Al! Eet'll ignore hyu 'til hyu schtab it in de back! Vorzt comes vorzt, I'z just blow myzelf up and it die! So'z'll dem Grimm in da big cagez!" A moment passes. "... And prob'ly sink de zhip, but dat just means less Grimm in Vale, yeah?"
"N-no! No, no blowing up, I'll- it'll-" Al stumbles over his words, and eventually gets a hold of himself long enough to bring one of those icy blue eyes out from under the shroud. "I'll come. I-I'll come."
"Anyone else want to chicken out?" Lumen asks. "No offence, Al, not suggesting you were."
"N-none taken..."
Nobody else makes for the stairs- you can't miss that look of grim determination on their faces. They'll do it. But they'll do it because they need to.
"... I'll message Port. He can-"
"No need, my boy!" Port calls from the top of the stairs. "I'm already here, and other instructors are on their way!"
He makes his way down, weapon already in hand as he walks into the room.
"This has already gone beyond what any first-years should have to deal with. If you wish to leave, then I shan't stop you, nor dock you credit…" he stops, looking out at the sea of faces, and a warm smile creeps out from under that moustache. "Though, it seems you've already made your decision on that front."
He turns to you, pride radiating off him like sunlight.
"Well? Lead the way, Mr. Arc."
Oh boy responsibility you needed more of that.
You nod, and begin to jog through the cages, the Grimm's barking and squealing and other noises of hatred for you long since faded into background noise. At a Hunter's pace, it only takes the group about 30 seconds to cross the hold, and that was mostly because you had to start moving single-file to get through the narrow corridors between cages.
The door to the final cargo hold is larger than the other doors- the others have been, well, person-sized. This one is large enough to drive a car through, more like barn doors. They're also made of solid, inch-thick steel- they're the kind of doors rated to take explosives in a military attack.
Finally, something Captain Vuur didn't skimp on.
"O-kay, first problem- how do we open it?" Creme asks.
"Is there a button somewhere?" Pyrrha asks.
You scan the area- with your eyes, not your sword- and eventually find something.
"No button here," you say, looking towards the starboard side of the wall. "... But we won't need one."
You point towards the human-sized door, lying slightly ajar, answering the unasked question.
"... That doesn't bode well," Rashmi says.
You peer through the door, and see… fog. A black fog with a greenish sheen, so thick that when you put your arm through it, flaring your Aura, you can't see it ahead of you- the Transistor lights it up like it's a solid surface.
"What the…?" Lumen says, trailing off. He presses his hand against the fog wall, Aura flaring- and disappearing like everything else.
"Hag's fog," Port says. "If I had to judge by the colour, it's the pure stuff- relatively harmless, but obfuscating. Blocks all light and sound, in or out. There could be a marching band in there and we wouldn't know until you stuck your head through."
You look to the others behind you. Judge.
"... Well, come on, form an orderly line," you joke, just barely keeping the waver out of your voice and the nervous smile off your face, before looking back at the fog, and just- walking on through.
For a moment, you're completely blind and deaf, driven to instinctually hold your breath, and then it passes just as quickly, the whole wall only about a foot thick. A wave of light pressure passes over your body as you walk through, like you're being dragged through heavy drapes. You move in quickly, making space for the next person to come through, and start to scan the area beyond the brume.
Well- you would, if you didn't have to blink away tears. The entire room is covered by a dozen massive flood lights from every conceivable angle, so aggressively bright that it stuns you like a flashbang- your eyes scream as your irises rush to close down as tightly as possible. Absolutely no shadow has been allowed to enter this room- even the corners have been filled in with gentle slopes, ensuring that there are no sharp angles that could cause one by accident.
When your eyes finally adjust, you realise that the only surfaces in this room that aren't blindingly white are the parts crawling with tendrils of murky, greenish-black smog, all leading back to one of the largest cages you've ever seen. It's a 10 metre cube, more like a small zoo enclosure than the glorified dog cages that you've seen so far, and almost entirely covered in thick bars and sheets of steel- the only reason the fog is leaking is because something's rent large, claw-like gashes in the protective layer. The other cage is just a cage, with bars, but it also has floodlights in the same pattern as the ceiling, protected by the kind of thick plastic you've seen Mulberry put behind test targets before Ruby fires at them, to protect whatever's behind the back wall.
Inside, a truly miserable ball of leather sits, trying to make itself as small and protected from the light as possible.
One kept in complete darkness, the other kept in blinding light. How poetic of Captain Vuur.
{Imps are here. Imps plural.}
"Please tell me you're just seeing double too."
{Yes, Jaune, there are two of them, gold star. He brought a friend.}
Shit.
People start filing through. Port first, who adjusts quickly, then Lumen and Creme, who adjust faster, then the others, who take various approaches to dealing with the problem; stoic squinting, Haru, Pyrrha, and Kapila; already wearing sunglasses, Rashmi at least has the decency to not look smug about it; finally, pained yelps and covering their eyes account most everyone else.
{Isn't unlocked yet, but they're getting there. Cages are electromagnetically locked, and they haven't figured out keypads yet.}
And you don't intend to give them the chance to.
"Hag cage, far side!" you say, rushing off and letting the others catch up at their own pace.
Sprinting through the centre aisle, you catch a glimpse of the Grimm inside the other cage- the miserable pile of leather is the Vampyr, using its wings to try and protect its eyes, now peering out from under them with that usual wild misanthropy, and a cocktail of other emotions that put ice in your chest- annoyance, mixed with curiosity at the sudden outburst of activity, and a sort of cold, alien calculation.
Waiting.
You skid around the corner, and see the pair of Imps somehow still haven't noticed you yet- and you're thankful for it, because you freeze when you see the size of the things. As tall as Naia, but a quarter as thick, the creatures have luxuriated in stretching themselves out as much as possible, free of the confines of a cage and forced slumber.
One of them taps the keypad, once, twice, three, four times, and a buzzer sounds out.
{0199. They're just trying to brute-force it. They'll be here all day.}
The other smacks it over the head, and moves it out of the way- and then spots you, just as a few others begin to catch up.
Before either group can do anything, a truly horrific TING, TING, TING echoes through the hold, making everyone but the Imps and Port jump.
Behind you, you see a large, leathery hand reaching out from the cage, from where it had just stunned you all by rapping the bar with one of its claws. It slowly creeps back in, and the worst thing you've ever heard, like someone drawing the edge of a straight razor along a blackboard, echoes against the cargo hull.
"Sisters. Give. Dark."
The Hags cackle from inside their cage. Before the Imps can even react, a wizened hand as knotted and warped as an old tree branch reaches out and grabs one by the neck. With inhuman strength, it's fully dragged through the claw-width gash with such force that you think they wouldn't have a problem doing that to something with bones. A confused scream, a splash, and a blast of fog burps through the cage bars, the cauldron's production going into overdrive.
This… is not an ideal situation. The Hags made it slightly more ideal, but then a finger curled on the Monkey's Paw in Ozpin's cupboard, and they're about to make it significantly less ideal.
Alright, how are you killing them and in what order?
n.b: The number of d6s rolled is not a measure of possible success, merely a measure of how many actors are involved in each scene, with a maximum of 4d6; you, Port, the Grimm being targeted (each of these targets is too dangerous to focus on more than one in a given plan), and the horde of hunters behind you, in that order. This number may change depending on your plans, and particularly good plans might get a minor bonus to Jaune's roll, exceptional plans will give a malus to the Grimm, but everyone involved only rolls one d6.
[] Imp [4d6]- The most direct threat to you and yours. Also the easiest to kill, by dint of not having a cage between the two of you, thus making it the default target for most of the class. Sucks to be him.
-[] Write-In
[] Hags [3d6]- Risky move. Might get rid of the fog, might just somehow throw your stuff in the cauldron and make something horrible out of it. God help you if any of your teammates start giving it lead and antimony to play with.
-[] Write-In
[] Vampyr [2d6]- This, you need to be careful about. If a shadow so much as the size of your thumb, or one of Crescent Rose's bullets, enters that cell, you have every chance of doing the Hags' job for them. If the Vampyr gets the chance, it will escape, and the next time you see it will be at the foot of your bed in the dead of night.
-[] Write-In