Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20190205035159/@comment-25582638-20190301134711

The Engelnacht heiress huffed slightly as she steps out of the jewelry store, her gaze sweeping over the vicinity. The feather-like metals shuddered at her second attempt to connect with the rest of the Bluthardt members in the auction, and she clicked her tongue internally.

The signal jammer was still active. There were unknown elements lurking outside the warehouse. And the damnable guards of the auction were still standing in their stations for almost an hour or so, as if there was nothing wrong with their coms. Nevertheless, she never intended to rely on them from the very start, and she set off to make her own preparations.

Ignoring the brewing festivities on the stage, the Black Swan strode, away from the glittering domain of exotic and luxurious goods, and into the sector oozing with raggedy atmosphere. Over here, majority of the patrons carried weapons of varying qualities slung over their body; from rusty chipped blades and second hand pistols to assault rifles stolen from shipments, axes, broadswords, and laser guns. Weapon merchants hawked passersby, enticing them with promises such as discounts and "Atlesian grade" weapons. Whether these products were genuine or not, the risk was generally on the merchants. This is a black market after all. And standing in place of law against counterfeit and bogus goods is notorious criminals or the prospect of bounty on head. It's no wonder amateur criminals and destitute groups were favorite targets for such merchandises.

Brunhilde made many stops, mostly at weapons shops that were selling lines of homogenous merchandises- specialized, in short- and rarely approached shops like some general weapons stores. Whilst she had her weapon strapped and wrapped heavily on her back, she made it a point not to rely on it too much, even if it was made by darling. For a good reason. Like most of Hunters’ weapons, hers was also personalized, and such weapons are easily recognizable and often times used to identify the wielder. The new weapon in her arsenal had no association with her yet, and she was still deciding whether to use it as Hilda or Black Swan.

Pondering, the Engelnacht heiress slinked her gloved hand inside one of her cloat's pockets, brushing her fingers against the hard, polished metal as she gazed down at the enthusiastic mob below her. She had climbed up a stairs to an elevated platform, where the crowd was scarce and she could view the auction from above. Her porcelain white skin was slightly sweaty, and sturdy metal objects pressed against her figure when she shifted her footing. She might be overreacting, but this was better than doing nothing at all and assumed that everything would be fine.

But then… It would be a lie if she said that she didn't want anything to happen.

“What's going on here, Swan?” Wynston's robotic voice suddenly reverberated in the air from behind. Hilda tilted her head, picking up the sound of footsteps creaking lightly against the metal stairs.

“You heard what I said: trouble,” Hilda said and grasped the cold rails. “Oh, Grave is here too. She’s acting as a lookout. You should say hi to her later.~”

A frustrated sigh escaped from his mask as the king cobra faunus stopped on his tracks. He stayed behind in the shadowed corner of the platform, massaging his neck and resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of the nose. More carefree little cousins to take care of.

Brunhilde continued. “There's a suspicious activity going on outside- a signal in the middle of the sea. Heavily encrypted... looks military grade.”

“That… And there's the signal jammer too.” Wynston added, checking the HUD for any signals. “... Did Grave contact… No, never mind that.”

Hilda and Grave weren't supposed to be in the auction. Knowing the duo, informing the Administrator of the situation would only do more harm than good on their end.

“What do you think, Snake? Of this situation.”

Wynston stared at the back of Hilda, crossing his arms, his fingers tapping at the grip of a gun beneath his coat. Analyzing the current intel they have and putting them together, there was was only one possible scheme he could think.

--

Narreau. SAINTS, of all people, were the perpetrators. Interestingly enough, SWAT team was present too, working with the Narreau faction.

… This was a sting operation. And they were about to bust their way into the auction.

After running around under cover and scouting the area, Grave heaved a deep breath and crouched behind a bush. Not too far from her position, a familiar blonde-haired ordered her subordinates to prepare the charges and soon began the countdown towards hell. Big guns and high-tech armors whirled to life, anxiously waiting to unleash their brimming energy and loaded bullets.

While hoping that the Engelnacht heiress had gotten the message, Grave put on a red mask-like helmet that clicked at a contraption around her neck, locking it in place. Her steadying breathes passed through the filters, letting out puffs of cold air as her heartbeat quickened at the sudden adrenaline rush entering her system. She took out a metallic, tennis-sized ball clipped to her belt, holding it in her palm for a moment before gazing back at the squad of elite soldiers.

And then, she stretched her gloved hand at the squad, palm glowing lightly with green lights as wisps of wind gathered and compressed behind the ball. Without a word, her thumb pressed the button, and the winds instantly exploded with a resounding boom that ruffled the surrounding trees and bushes.

The metallic ball whistled through the air and hit one of the soldiers with a loud thump. A second later, the ball opened up, its insides pulsing and overflowing with wind and ice, and unleashed a shockwave in the area. Another second later, countless ice shards followed, cruising in high velocities at every direction and raining down its cold hell at the enemies. She knew it wouldn't do much damage, but the sound of a bomb going of should serve well to warn the others inside the auction.

At that, Grave stood up, unclipping more bombs from her belts in anticipation for the SAINTS’ retaliation.