Today was a terrifying day. Very terrifying.
The day of their first field practice.
And that guaranteed a fight with the Grimm somewhere outside the city. After all–and this was something Egrer had managed to forget–that was exactly the main goal of Hunters: killing Grimm and saving civilians. He was sure that not a single mission offered to them would get by without one of those two points. And both of them carried danger.
Killing Grimm is obviously dangerous; usually, they don't stand still while being killed. Saving civilians too, because there is something they need to be saved from. And in most cases, that something is precisely the Grimm. A vicious circle, really.
And even the fact that they would be accompanied by a teacher didn't particularly calm Egrer down. He was checking the mechanism of his Needle-Shooter for the fifth time, ejecting and retracting the needles, but no one was even able to understand his concerns. Everyone in the armory was, on the contrary, glad at the imminent prospect of throwing some punches and playing the hero.
Magenta, in her usual combat sundress and gas mask, sighed sadly.
"I'm almost out of Dust." She slammed her locker shut. "I only have my least favorite left–Earth Dust. It barely even burns!"
Her indignation was especially groundless if one recalled the small fact that Earth Dust, in theory, couldn't burn at all.
"Well, y'know, it's a pretty dangerous thing in your hands," Illmond noted, clenching and unclenching his fists in his tricked-out gloves. A quick test showed that the Dust threads were coming out without any problems. "I mean, the enemy can't do much when they get covered in rocks."
"That's boring! Why did prices skyrocket so much because of those stupid robberies? Even our stipend isn't enough!"
"'Cause we don't get paid one," Yort grumbled, waiting for them on a bench nearby. His knuckledusters were even simpler than the Needle-Shooter, so checking them didn't take much time. "Grades ain't high enough."
Suddenly Magenta tugged at Egrer's shoulder and started making pleading puppy-dog eyes at him.
"Maybe we could spend a little from the Pack Fund, huh? Buy some Fire Dust, pretty please?"
At this blasphemous, vile, frankly terrible, and incredibly heinous suggestion, Egrer almost choked on his own tongue.
"Don't even think about it, you crazy pyromaniac! That's our rainy-day fund, and we're only gonna spend it during the apocalypse." Magenta opened her mouth to reply, but he instantly pinched her lips shut with his fingers. "No! No, no, and no again! Forget about it."
Having said his piece, Egrer simply walked away.
Yort cracked his neck and followed him. He was already sick of sitting in one place anyway. Illmond and Magenta also had to move, as time was running out.
The entire first and second years of Beacon were already in the auditorium; excitement mixed with anticipation could be read on the students' faces. Many had occupied the currently turned-off holographic mission boards, ready to dash off at any second and snatch up a mission.
Even the visiting students were here, but they weren't allowed to take field practice outside the walls of Vale. They would be helping the police catch criminals, doctors treat the wounded, and firefighters put out fires. Generally, engaging in socially useful activities, just so the guests wouldn't get bored alone in Beacon.
Egrer led his pack a little to the side, or to be exact–into the farthest corner of the auditorium. People were already giving him major side-eye, some with admiration, others with condemnation, but no one seemed indifferent. Until yesterday's news broadcast, the majority of Beacon didn't even know his name, but now he was known to everyone precisely as the Executioner of Atlas. An overly loud and pompous nickname that didn't even reflect reality, but few people cared.
Although for the sake of truth, it's worth noting that at least a third of those gazes were glued to Magenta, who had changed her nickname from Butterfly to Flammentod. Sounds like something in ancient Atlesian; Hat must have applied all his erudition to compose such a moniker. Or he used a dictionary.
The Fire Queen, who had also distinguished herself that day, stood near her team and stared blankly into the void. She didn't even notice Egrer waving at her from the other end of the hall, fully immersed in the realization of the futility of existence.
The light hum of voices ceased when the Headmaster stepped onto the podium. He approached the microphone and tapped it with his finger, definitively cutting off any conversations and whispers. A reverent silence reigned in the auditorium.
"Students," he began with an air of importance. "You finally have the chance to show what you are worth. Rest assured that neither your strength nor your knowledge will help you. Only experience, which you do not yet possess, but which you will gain over the next week. Do not disappoint yourselves."
As always, the Headmaster's speech was full of profound meaning that no one understood. But Beacon students were used to it; they were the first to react when the terminals turned on.
Egrer prayed to the Twins that the daredevils from other teams would snatch up the most dangerous missions as quickly as possible, leaving Majesty with something as harmless as possible. There was no hoping for safe field practice in the city; that was only for guests. Beacon students were supposed to risk their lives and health out in the wild lands somewhere...
Magenta immediately pulled the pack toward an information board, which was currently occupied by a team of some first-year girls. Yort easily scared them off and cleared the space.
"Let's take this one!" Magenta poked her finger at the monitor. "An unknown Grimm is terrorizing the area, Hunters' help required. The beast has already killed seven, and the only tracks left behind are severed toes! No clues, and the fear and despair are attracting more and more Grimm to the town walls."
"Pass," Illmond said. "It'll take two days just for the travel, and who knows how long we'll be hunting that thing. There isn't even extranet in that shithole. Boring. And anyway, Grimm either swallow you whole or just dismember the victim. There wouldn't be any toes left, that's just some serial killer coming up with a cover story."
"Then this one. An engineer needs an escort to the village of Springs, he has to build a bridge there. Our duties include protection from Grimm and bandits. That's all! Piece of cake."
"Naaah," Yort grimaced. "I want something with some punch. Like, we walk in, wreck everything, and bounce. Not slog our asses through the dark lands with some civvie."
Several missions had already been taken, a large tag with the team's name appearing above their description. This made Magenta hurry up, because otherwise, the most interesting ones would be snatched right from under her nose.
"Weeeell," their leader pondered, carefully examining the available options. "Here. To the southeast, large clusters of Grimm sighted. Objective: locate and destroy, and if possible, find out what's attracting them there. Will this do?"
"Nah, why risk it extra," Egrer shook his head. "Isn't there anything calmer here? So we don't have to leave the city, and without unnecessary danger."
"You're just a pussy," Yort grumbled. "Don't listen to him, Madge, I liked that last gig. Let's do it."
"No, don't." Egrer grabbed their leader's hand just in time, before she could swipe her Scroll over the terminal.
But Yort simply took the Scroll from her hands and did it himself. Fortunately, a previously unnoticed note stating that this mission was only available to second-years and above lit up in red.
"It's better to choose the least dangerous thing possible," Egrer said insistently. "Ill, back me up."
"I'll say that I don't want to do anything at all," he mumbled, pulling his hood over his head. Today he was terribly sleep-deprived. "Let's ditch, huh?"
"Ditch field practice? For that, they'll just throw us into the forest without weapons and tell us to find our way back to Beacon. Is that the kind of practice you want for us?"
The bickering of Team Majesty was interrupted by a girl dressed to the nines, who burst into the auditorium. She started wildly whipping her head in all directions, not even noticing that her dark sunglasses were hanging from one ear, and her beret had slipped to the side. Almost no one paid attention to her arrival, even when she cursed out her teammate trailing behind her like a puppy. The fashionista, apparently despairing of finding the person she needed herself, yelled for the whole room to hear:
"Which one of you is Egrer Peleni?! Where is that scum who ruined MY ball?!"
Egrer immediately understood that it was her–the Fashion Police had come for him. Police literally. And Fashion too.
"We're taking this." He abruptly snatched Magenta's Scroll from Yort and, with a trembling hand, swiped it over the terminal, accepting the first mission he came across. The only thing he managed to read was the location of the Bullhead waiting for them. "And now we bail. Bail, I said!"
"Hey, what about democratic elections?" protested Magenta, barely keeping up with him. "You started usurping my authority again, dictator! I thought you stopped doing that!"
Since the Fashion Police was standing near the exit, Egrer dragged his pack to the nearest window, from where they ran out to the landing pads. Egrer felt the furious gaze of two brown eyes on his back with a sixth sense, which made him pick up the pace several times over.
Mrs. Licht watched in surprise as Egrer ran into the Bullhead parked behind her back and hid. The pilot yelped and spilled soda on his chest when a student burst in on him without asking and squeezed under his seat.
"What zeal!" exclaimed the old Survival teacher, happily flicking her cat tail. "I see you can't wait to start!"
"Please excuse him," Magenta began to apologize. "He just got scared of a pretty girl shouting his name, who is still rushing after us, knocking passersby away with her purse, which is clearly much heavier than it looks on the outside."
"I'm gonna use this very purse to beat every last scrap of dignity you don't even have out of you!"
"And there she is," Illmond added indifferently, boarding their airship. "Let's get going already, or we'll get hit just for keeping him company."
"I'd only be happy to!" Yort yelled. "Come 'ere, you ugly bitch, I'll beat the shit out of you so bad you'll be eating through a straw!"
The ugly bitch's purse multiplied in size and seemed to start unfolding out of itself, even though by all laws of physics it was impossible to fit this massive chunk of metal into such a small space. The expensive reptile skin was replaced by gears and twelve barrels, the zipper pull turned into a trigger, and the zipper itself into an ammo belt.
Ruby's sniper scythe was nervously smoking on the sidelines, looking at this crown jewel of hybrid weaponry. Not everyone can combine a lady's handbag and a machine gun.
"Actually, y'know," Yort drawled, retreating toward the Bullhead, "we don't really have time for this, yeah."
"Don't worry, if anything happens, I'll provide first aid," the Survival teacher chuckled recklessly, not even thinking of stopping the enraged student. It was as if she herself was curious to see what this would ultimately lead to.
However, a terrible murder was prevented by that very second-year from her team.
"Coco, stop!" He grabbed her arms and pulled them to the sides, preventing her from carrying out the execution. The machine gun plopped to the ground, and the already spinning barrels began to slow down.
While they were messing around there, Team Majesty boarded the Bullhead, and it soon lifted off the ground.
"I'll kill that freak!" the scream reached them. "You hear me, Egrer Peleni?! I'll kill you, you dumb meathead! Hope a swarm of bees flies right up your ass!"
The departing Bullhead did not answer her. However, Yort, watching from the porthole, began to chuckle.
"Ha-ha! What a dumbass! Confused me and Eg. How the hell can anyone confuse me with that cowardly twig? Ha-ha-ha!"
"You should laugh less," Illmond said. "Because she's gonna be hunting you specifically."
Yort's smile withered right before their eyes.
"Eg, where are you?!" yelled Magenta, wandering back and forth across the Bullhead in a vain search. She looked under the soft seats, on the cargo shelves, opened a small medicine cabinet, and even peered out of every porthole. "We took off and we're safe now! Where are you? Eg!"
"I've got him!" the pilot replied. "Huddled under the seat and shivering. A Hunter, my ass. What a clown, get out of here, you're in my way!"
The teacher watched the unfolding bedlam with an understanding smile. As if in the days of her own youth, she did similar things, or even worse. But no matter how much she wanted to plunge into memories, she had to explain a lot to the young blood.
"Alright, kiddos, explaining safety protocols." Mrs. Licht pulled a cigarette from her orange shawl. "Keep your arms and legs inside the Bullhead, don't run around the cabin, smoking..." she exhaled smoke, and Magenta waved her hand in front of her face, "smoking is allowed, you have my permission. But most importantly–don't bother the pilot."
"Thank you!" the pilot replied gratefully, practically kicking Egrer out of his cockpit. Egrer didn't put up much resistance; the panic attack had almost released its grip. His recent distress was only betrayed by chattering teeth and beads of sweat on his temples.
"And one more important note–you are on field practice. Which means my intervention is undesirable. I'll only help you if things get really bad, otherwise, you have to agree, what's the point of this practice anyway?"
The Survival teacher dropped a huge backpack and sat down on a seat, crossing her legs. Long throwing knives strapped to her pants clinked against each other.
Egrer hadn't noticed before, but Mrs. Licht had prepared for the trip to the fullest. A multitude of various weaponry was attached to her, starting from mundane knives and ending with four pistols, one for each limb. Not to mention all sorts of tools, like an ice axe, climbing gear, a small air tank on her thigh, and much, much more.
"Isn't it heavy dragging all this around?" asked the kind-hearted Magenta.
"Better a little inconvenience than death. You must be prepared for anything life throws at you. King Taijitu bite!" the previously relaxed teacher unexpectedly jumped up and pounced on Egrer. He only managed to take a step back before finding himself in a chokehold. "You just DIED! Because you were poorly prepared. Constant vigilance, kiddo!"
She let him go, and the student fell to the floor, suffocating in a fit of sneezing. Rubbing his neck and sniffling, he got up in a crouch and crawled away.
"That was badass, granny," Yort nodded approvingly. "Can you do me like that?"
"For 'granny', I wouldn't just put you in a chokehold, I'd throw you overboard."
Magenta immediately let out a guilty "Oops" and grabbed Yort by the ear, demanding immediate apologies from him. But the Survival teacher herself resolved the situation.
"That's what I would've said ten years ago, but what's the point of mourning my lost youth now? Ah, I used to be the biggest beauty in Shade; boys from all over campus used to chase after me."
Mrs. Licht flopped back onto the seat, but this time no one believed she was relaxed. On the contrary, everyone expected a strike from her at the most unexpected moment and in the most unexpected place.
Especially Egrer. Unlike the others, if she grabbed him one more time, he would simply die from allergies. With a gesture, he asked Magenta to pass him her gas mask, and she reluctantly obeyed his mute request.
"You have a rather peculiar method of delivering the material," Illmond noted, watching as with every minute of the flight, the signal bars on his Scroll became fewer and fewer. And the fewer there were, the more miserable the shut-in looked.
"I have the best method. The Death Stalker surprise attack method!" She jerked, but when the students jumped away, she simply burst out laughing. "See! You're fast learners!"
"She got us," Yort grumbled in a whisper. "Why does she act like a senile schizophrenic psycho in Survival class, but here she's all badass?"
"By the way," Egrer mumbled through the gas mask, "remind me, what exactly is our mission? Not that we forgot everything or picked a mission in a hurry, but as ancient wisdom says–repetition is the mother of learning."
No one saw his goofy smile.
"We're flying to the middle of nowhere, the likes of which you couldn't even dream of, kiddos." Illmond groaned in despair after these words. He pressed his Scroll to his forehead and started chanting some kind of mantra. "Right you are, we're flying to Vacuo."
"Well, that's awesome," Yort rejoiced.
Mrs. Licht chuckled, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening for a second.
"For you and me, yes; for these guys, no. Anyone who didn't grow up in Vacuo will never acknowledge its wild beauty. So keep an eye on your little buddies."
The retired Vacuan mobster nodded importantly, accepting the duty bestowed upon him.
"What's inside there?" Magenta asked, noticing a massive steel crate wrapped in cables in the center of the cabin.
"Archeologists dug up some ruins near Vale and found stone tablets there. I didn't listen closely to the details, but the inscriptions there are in the same language as in the ruins near Vacuo. That's essentially what our mission is–deliver the tablets to their destination and act as guards for the archeologists there while they double-check everything."
"Sounds like something that absolutely shouldn't be entrusted to student half-Hunters," Egrer drawled doubtfully, walking around the crate.
"Apparently, they decided to save money on security and transport," Illmond shrugged, scooting further away from the porthole. His fear of heights was kicking in. "Our field practice is basically a government service. We get experience, the clients get savings. It's a win-win."
"Anyway, kiddos, it's a very important find that will help us understand if there was once a single massive state on our continent a long time ago. Though personally, I don't believe it. For such a large empire to grow in ancient times, when they didn't even know how to properly manipulate Dust? That's nonsense."
Mrs. Licht opened the porthole, and a strong wind immediately burst into the cabin, tousling everyone's hair. As if nothing happened, she tossed her cigarette butt out and closed it back up.
"Aren't you a bit too reckless for a Survival teacher?" Egrer grumbled, fixing his hair. His perfectly styled hair was messed up worse than a bird's nest, and without a portion of fresh hairspray and a mirror, restoring it to its previous state would be quite difficult.
"Eg, don't be rude to the teacher," Magenta scolded.
"Only a little bit," Mrs. Licht chuckled. "By the way, right now you have a unique opportunity to learn the most important skill of absolutely any Hunter... Patience."
"Oh, fuck..." Yort mumbled disappointedly, having counted on some kind of revelation.
"What did you think, big guy? Our flight is vee-e-ery long. Make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the multi-hour journey..."
Judging by Illmond's disappointed sigh, the connection was completely gone. The miserable shut-in climbed onto his seat with his feet up and started picking at the toe of his shoe with a finger out of boredom.
The long and agonizing hours of waiting began... which stopped almost immediately.
Illmond continued doing nonsense, Yort was talking to the Survival teacher about something, and Magenta was playing rock-paper-scissors for forehead flicks with Egrer and losing every time. Because exactly one second before throwing his hand out, Egrer would say "I'm gonna throw paper," and Magenta sincerely believed that he would throw paper. After which she got a flick every single time. And so on until she got sick of the game.
It was precisely during these activities that the pilot's voice caught them ten minutes after the flight began.
"Radar detected a flock of Nevermores. They'll be here in about eight minutes, coming in from the starboard side."
The foursome of students immediately jumped up from their seats.
"And here are our opponents!" Mrs. Licht rejoiced, continuing to lounge loosely in her seat. "The Grimm are acting up these days, creeping closer and closer to Beacon. Your course of action?"
Team Majesty immediately fixed their gazes on Egrer as the field commander. Even Magenta herself didn't want to trust Magenta with commanding the group during combat. The teacher immediately deciphered these glances and made a mental note of it.
The unofficial leader looked out the porthole. As it drew closer, the small cloud of minor Nevermores began to resemble a massive swarm. Egrer gulped and tapped the pilot on the back of his seat.
"Step on it, man! Lose 'em!"
"Correct!" Mrs. Licht approved. "You don't have to engage in every battle along your path. Your goal is to reach your destination with the cargo, the rest doesn't matter."
"But I wanna brawl!" Yort protested like a child who wasn't given a toy. "Lemme smash these runts! I wanna hear their bones snap!"
"I'll make the big guy happy," the pilot chuckled into his bushy mustache, "even at top speed, the Nevermores are faster than this Bullhead. So I'm not gonna strain the engine for nothing, go on and brawl."
Yort roared joyfully and slammed his fists together, striking sparks from his knuckledusters. He was anticipating a fight.
"Ain't beat nobody's face in for real in ages. Like, to death! Open 'er up, man, we'll show this posse what's up."
The pilot flipped some toggle switch with a laugh, and the right ramp slid aside. A gust of wind rushed inside, even stronger than when Mrs. Licht threw out her cigarette butt. This forced Egrer to irritably pull his hands away from his hair, and Illmond to fearfully press himself against the opposite wall.
"I didn't give the order to fight, actually!" Egrer shouted. "Pilot, send out an SOS signal on all channels!"
"Come on, it's just a flock~"
"Send it, I said! You don't know my team like I know them! We'll be very lucky if we even survive at all."
The pilot poked his head out of the cockpit and met Mrs. Licht's gaze. She shrugged, having completely handed over full authority to her students.
"Alright," the man sighed, starting to mumble into the radio.
"And why are you all so calm?!" Egrer snapped. "A massive flock of Nevermores is flying right at us, for fuck's sake! They might be small for now, but this is no joke, it's a lethal threat!"
Suddenly Mrs. Licht burst into ringing laughter, and Yort soon echoed her. Egrer immediately understood; these two were completely in sync.
"Kiddo, are you scared of the Grimm? What are you even doing in Beacon?"
"Just a precaution," he mumbled into the gas mask. This excuse sounded pathetic. "Constant vigilance and all that stuff."
"My advice to you–be less afraid, or the Grimm will gnaw on you first. You might have forgotten, but they're attracted to negative emotions."
"I'm not scared! I just can't understand your apathy! Only Ill took the threat seriously."
"Huh?" he responded. "Nah, I'm afraid of heights. If some Nevermore bursts in here, I'll deal with it, but I ain't even gonna look outside! You guys can handle it without me, right?"
"You gotta be kidding me!"
"One minute to impact," reminded the pilot, who also didn't look alarmed at all. As if every Monday meant a fight with Grimm for him. "Do you have anything that shoots with you?"
"There's my Rainbow Flash!" Magenta immediately perked up, shaking her huge flamethrower. "It shoots a stream up to sixty meters! Gimme that!"
Magenta tore her gas mask off Egrer and deftly pulled it onto her own face with one hand.
Wanting to back up her words with action, their brave leader valiantly walked right to the very edge, beyond which the boundless blue of the ocean began beneath them, and the boundless azure of the sky above them. The wind tousled her multi-colored hair and equally multi-colored sundress.
"Turn broadside to them!" Magenta commanded.
The pilot hit the brakes, and the Bullhead's engines rotated vertically, maintaining only altitude. From the open ramp, the flock of Nevermores was visible, growing larger with every second. Letting them get closer, Magenta yelled:
"Burn!"
And in that very second, brown fire shot out of the flamethrower's nozzle... and, having flown a mere five meters, plummeted like a rock into the ocean. Literally.
"Well... rock fire is just very heavy... Miscalculated a little."
If the pilot hadn't dove down in time, the Bullhead's cabin would have already been completely packed with Nevermores flying into it at full speed. As it was, the furiously cawing flock flew right over them.
Because of such a sharp jolt, everyone jumped high and floated in complete weightlessness for a while, until the engines rotated horizontally, and the Bullhead began evasive maneuvers.
Illmond, feeling gravity again, immediately huddled in the safest place on their flying tub–under Mrs. Licht's seat. And Magenta and Yort almost flew right out, had Egrer not pulled them back in time.
"Do something already!" the pilot yelled at them.
A terrible clanging of metal was heard from above. The Grimm had latched onto the hull and started tearing it apart. Suddenly, a bird's head with a white mask peeked into their cabin through the open ramp. The Nevermore opened its beak, cawed, and began crawling towards them.
"Yort," Egrer began to command, "get up there and beat the shit out of everyone like you love to do!"
The Vacuan giant laughed joyfully and without any fear grabbed onto the Nevermore that had almost crawled in, after which he crawled over it to the top of the Bullhead. Magenta's spiked flamethrower immediately flew into the face of the Grimm, dumbfounded by such audacity. After a couple more hits like that, it went limp, detached from the Bullhead, and plummeted down.
Magenta was clearly angry that the Grimm didn't obediently dive right into her stream of flame. Therefore, she was going to get revenge.
"I'm going after Yort!" she said, jumping out of the cabin right onto a Nevermore flying past.
"Wait, you fool, you're needed here!"
But it was too late to exclaim; Magenta had already begun a crazy rodeo in an attempt to subjugate the Grimm. But since Nora had once managed to ride an Ursa, maybe Magenta could pull off the same trick with a Nevermore. Hoping for a miracle is the only thing one can hope for in Egrer's situation.
The Bullhead began wildly tossing up and down. The pilot, cursing loudly, tried to shake the Grimm off them.
"Take it easy, man, there's a full-blown fight on the roof!" Egrer shouted. "You're gonna shake our guys off!"
"You suggesting I just let them wreck my baby?! Mrs. Licht, your students can't handle it, intervene!"
"Nah, everything's fine so far," she shrugged. "In any case, I prepared for any outcome, so don't chicken out."
Nevermores crawled into the cabin again, three at once. Egrer cursed, unfolded his Needle-Shooter, and started shooing them away. He yelled profanities at them, waved his arms with his weapon, and did everything he could to keep them from getting inside.
One Nevermore, who kept trying to shove its muzzle into the Bullhead, hooked onto the engine with its claws, causing it to lose much maneuverability. The pilot's tossing from side to side became noticeably slower.
The second was on the roof, and its upside-down head kept trying to peck at Egrer, but he always managed to dodge at the last moment.
The third, who was the most active, hooked its claws onto the bottom of the Bullhead, and its wings onto the top, blocking almost the entire way out with its body.
If there were two Nevermores here instead of three, Egrer would have been pecked to death a long time ago, because right now these three idiotic Grimm were mostly just getting in each other's way. However, even a dumb and young Grimm is mortally dangerous if your team is just as dumb! And especially if there's a whole flock of them, and this very flock is latching onto your Bullhead!
"Ill, motherfucker, quit pissing yourself from fear!" Egrer poked one of the Nevermores in the eye, but couldn't drive the needle in too deep, having to dodge the beak of the second. "Get out here and help, you freaking shut-in!"
"No-no-no, I'm gonna fall and go splat!"
"We're all gonna go splat if these things tear the Bullhead apart!"
As if echoing his words, the ceiling above them buckled with a screech, as if struck by something sharp. After a couple more such blows, a huge crimson eye peered at them through the resulting hole. The Nevermore roared furiously and began widening the hole with its claws, but Yort smashed this Grimm on the paw and threw it down. Now the giant from Vacuo was looking at them.
"Ill, you little bitch, motherfucker, blast 'em with something already, you scrub! There are too many of them!"
"I'm not poking my head out! I'm gonna fall!"
"Alright, fuck this." Yort cracked his knuckles and expanded the hole himself, pulling a chunk of metal aside. "Madge, leaving 'em to you! Burn these fuckers!"
Magenta's battle cry coincided with the characteristic sound of emitted flame. Outside the porthole, rocks burning a brown color started falling right from the sky.
Having said his piece, Yort jumped down to them and hauled the desperately resisting shut-in out from under the Survival teacher's seat. Mrs. Licht continued to sit as if nothing was happening, observing their behavior with obvious interest.
"Either you, you little bitch, go and brawl like a man, or I'm gonna piss on you right now!"
Egrer would have definitely thrown in his five Lien in support of Yort, had he not been too busy. The Nevermore blocking the passage got completely brazen and started kicking with its claws, since it couldn't reach them with its beak.
Yort threw Illmond across half the cabin right onto this Grimm, and the shut-in finally took part in the battle.
If only as a projectile...
The Nevermore took a hit to the stomach and detached from the Bullhead, plummeting like a stone straight toward the ocean's surface. Its claws left long and deep scratches, and also accidentally damaged the steel cables that held the most valuable cargo in place.
No longer bound, the metal crate began to bounce in different directions to the rhythm of the Bullhead's movements. Fortunately, it was too heavy to just go and fly off somewhere just like that.
However, Illmond was much lighter, and therefore easily flew out of the Bullhead when the pilot went into another turn.
His piercing scream made Egrer's heart sink to his stomach. Even Yort paled from the realization that, essentially, he was the one who threw Illmond overboard. Mrs. Licht didn't even twitch, watching them with a slight smile.
The scream still wouldn't quiet down. It maintained the same high pitch and volume, intensifying during the next aerobatic maneuvers.
Having managed to drive away the remaining two Grimm with Yort's help, Egrer looked outside and breathed a sigh of relief. Illmond was clinging to the Bullhead's engine, fighting a Nevermore that had latched onto the same spot. It was clearly a bit cramped for the two of them.
Illmond was screaming himself hoarse and chaotically waving his left hand, from which stretched five threads of Electric Dust. However, because his eyes were squeezed shut, he couldn't even see if he hit anyone. The Nevermore kept trying to peck at him, but the Dust threads erratically darting around prevented it from bringing its muzzle too close–shocking it.
"Ill, we're coming!" Egrer shouted. Except he hadn't figured out what "coming" meant and what to do yet.
In a desperate attempt to help somehow, Egrer aimed his Needle-Shooter at the Nevermore and pulled the trigger. With a quiet hiss, a needle shot out of its housing but was blown off course by the wind. Yort tried to do the same. He swung his hand, activating his knuckleduster, but the air strike went nowhere. At their speed, only a bullet could hit the target.
The pilot yanked the controls down sharply, the Bullhead pointing its nose toward the ocean at almost ninety degrees. The battered and shredded machine picked up monstrous speed, shedding pieces right in mid-air.
Illmond's scream became even more piercing, because he began to slip. Fortunately, his involuntary neighbor couldn't hold onto the engine; the air resistance ripped it off along with a piece of the hull.
Egrer and Yort themselves almost flew out to meet the flock of pursuing Nevermores. Had Yort not fired his knuckledusters in time, giving his body backward momentum and pulling Egrer along with him, they would have been lunch for the Grimm.
Egrer darted his gaze around the cabin in search of some rope or something like that. He himself was also darting around, finding himself in weightlessness. Searching for anything that could help pull Illmond up, he bumped into the Survival teacher. She was sitting in the exact same spot, strapped to her seat with a seatbelt.
"Mrs. Licht, Achoo!.. Did you bring a rope?!"
"I have a rope!" she answered with bright laughter. "But it's only for me, ha-ha-ha!"
"Illmond is barely hanging on! He's gonna fall into the ocean, and he can't swim!"
"Then save him, instead of chatting with me."
Egrer cursed so colorfully that even Yort would have blushed had he heard this angry tirade.
"Eg!" yelled Yort. He was floating near the crate wrapped in steel cable. After the Nevermore's strike, the cable was damaged, but it was still doing its job–keeping the cargo in one place. "Will this work?"
"No! What if the crate falls out? With our half-assed pilot, it's a genuine miracle we're even alive!"
"You're alive precisely because I'm an ace!" the pilot protested indignantly. "And I'm gonna keep pulling turns until you deal with the threat like normal Hunters!"
The Bullhead suddenly began to straighten out and assume a horizontal position. Things flying around the cabin fell down, as did Egrer and Yort. Illmond's scream jumped two octaves higher, which clearly meant nothing good.
And at that very moment, the Bullhead's engines, which already looked heavily damaged, began to smoke and spark. The speed dropped sharply, and the heavier, slower Nevermores began to catch up to them.
Spitting on everything, Egrer ripped the steel cable from the floor, unwound the cargo, and ran to the open ramp. Now that they were flying at a turtle's pace, there was a chance he could toss the cable straight to Illmond without the headwind knocking it aside. Yort, understanding his plan without words, climbed onto the roof through the hole in the ceiling and started drawing the Nevermores' attention to himself.
"Ill, catch!" Egrer shouted, throwing the end of the cable like a lasso.
Illmond, who was already barely holding onto the flap of the left engine, didn't even notice the noose landing on his neck. He was trying to press his whole body against the engine, fearfully closing his eyes and paying no attention to anything else.
"Tie it around your torso or arms! I'll pull you back in!" This shout simply drowned in the roar of the wind. "Well... Sorry."
Egrer pulled the cable toward himself, and the knot on Illmond's neck first tightened, and then yanked him off the engine. In a wide arc, the poor guy flew down, smacked against the starboard side, and then appeared from the port side again. Egrer dropped to his knees, and then lay on his stomach; the body of their dystrophic shut-in turned out to be surprisingly heavy.
Illmond dangled senselessly on the cable just like a real hanged man, and still couldn't pull himself up and climb onto the Bullhead on his own. All he managed to do was wave his hands in a vain attempt to loosen the knot on his neck.
For a second, it even seemed to Egrer that dropping him into the ocean would be more humane and safer than hoisting him up by the neck like this. However, the Nevermores flying here and there would absolutely catch him right in mid-air.
They were trying to do just that even now, however, because of their pilot's turns, Illmond was swinging in a completely chaotic trajectory. Diving Grimm missed, sometimes colliding with each other, and once even fought for the right to bite a chunk out of the shut-in.
"Ill, I'm flying to you!" Magenta, having straddled a Nevermore, pulled her flier by the feathers and it headed in the direction she wanted. Simultaneously, she started firing at other Grimm from her flamethrower. The Nevermores caught in the crossfire began to be covered in stone and eventually plummeted down, but there was bad news in this situation too.
The accuracy of flamethrowers is generally quite low. Therefore, it's not surprising that Magenta accidentally set the Bullhead's left engine on fire and that it began to crust over with stone. The vessel tilted sideways, and the unrestrained crate began to slide toward the open ramp. Slowly, but inexorably.
Egrer's gaze darted between Illmond dangling in the noose and the important cargo, losing which would definitely earn them a beating from the teachers. Besides, if they fail their field practice before even really starting it, they'll simply be laughed out of Beacon!
Egrer was still lying on the floor, while the upper part of his body stuck out of the Bullhead. The wind threatened to rip the scalp off his face, and even just breathing was hard, so he clearly wouldn't be able to stop the falling cargo...
"Mrs. Licht, save us!" he shrieked, helplessly drumming his feet on the floor.
"Well, what can you do."
The Survival teacher slowly stood up and placed a hand on the crate, stopping it literally a centimeter from the edge.
But suddenly, a Nevermore flew into the Bullhead's open ramp. Because of the sharp jolt, everything that wasn't bolted down flew up half a meter, and the vessel itself was distinctly thrown to the side. A dead Grimm was now smoking in the cabin, having broken its neck after a bad landing.
"Sorry, lost control," Magenta apologized, slowly sliding off the Nevermore's neck. She was nauseous. "Is there a bag here? I'm gonna throw up..."
But no one answered her, because there was no one in the cabin...
***
Mrs. Licht, having fallen out of the Bullhead, had only one panicky thought in her head.
'How am I going to explain this?!'
The screams of her three students could clearly be interpreted in roughly the same way.
***
"Professor Oobleck~"
"Doctor!" the historian corrected irritably.
"Doctor Oobleck, I swear on my dad, the Nevermores dragged the crate away!" Egrer assured him, not stopping his goofy smile for the past half hour. During this time, he had almost managed to dry off; traces of his swim in the ocean barely remained. "Back me up here!"
"Yes, yes, everything happened exactly like he said!" Magenta squeaked, fearfully covering her face with her hands.
"There's no one else, really," Illmond shrugged.
"Exceptionally strong opponents," Yort added thoughtfully.
"I sign off on their every word," Mrs. Licht nodded.
Professor Oobleck, temporarily acting as Miss Goodwitch's replacement for supervising field practices, listened to their excuses with a twitching eye. He didn't believe a single word they said. And considering he was a historian to the bone, Oobleck was surely extremely disappointed by the loss of ancient relics.
"I am disappointed in you all. Especially in you, Kathy!"
The old Survival teacher guiltily shuffled her foot. Her cat tail swung low from side to side.
"And what am I to do with you?" This question was not rhetorical. Oobleck really didn't know what to do with students who failed their practice on the very day they got it. Forget the day, not even a couple of hours had passed. "In my entire extensive career, I have never even heard of such a case. You can be proud of yourselves, Majesty, you've stumped me."
"Please, just not detentions!" the miserable students groaned.
"That is precisely what I should assign you," the professor replied measuredly, wiping his glasses with a cloth. With this gesture, he reminded them of Miss Goodwitch, who did exactly the same when she was angry. "But then you won't gain the experience you need. You must pass a field practice. But after such a spectacular failure, I don't even know what to entrust to you..."
An anxious silence fell; all the guilty parties, and even the teacher, were afraid to stir. Not only out of fear of breaking the historian's thoughtful silence, but mostly because of the all-too-real chance of accidentally knocking over one of the numerous stacks of folders, magazines, maps, and other papers. Oobleck's office was full of fragile and likely very expensive objects in terms of historical importance, the accidental breakage of which would guarantee them detentions right up to graduation.
Finally, after an eternity, the professor came to some conclusion. He took a sip of coffee and was filled with energy.
"I've got it! I will send your team to the police department. I'm sure they could use extra hands, especially with the rise in crime."
Reflexes drilled into him since childhood demanded Egrer run and hide from anyone wearing a police badge. Even under Roman's wing, when he had to deal with dirty cops, he always kept his distance from them. And working with law enforcement was basically beyond sci-fi for him. It was straight-up fantasy.
Yort also didn't fancy the prospect of turning pig; he practically groaned with indignation.
"Any objections, Mr. Alnen?"
"Not at all, Doctor."
"Splendid, splendid. Tomorrow morning you will be working with the police. You will bring benefit to society."
And then a real epiphany hit Egrer. If they were assigned to the police, there would be a chance to find out more about Torchwick's robberies. They surely have some clues about the Puppeteer's identity or, worst case scenario, at least some useful information on the White Fang.
Maybe things didn't turn out so bad after all...