RWBY: Lex Talionis - Male Reader x Harem (Complete)

Part 5

The sun had begun to peak over the harsh lands of Vacuo. And so did Y/N, who scaled a mesa that housed the outpost.

His clothes were dirtied with dust; his (Skin Color) complexion had a layer of dirt and sweat covered over him.

Right now he worked swiftly to clean the chamber of his revolver, wiping any dirt from the mechanisms to avoid a malfunction.

It had been so long since he had slain a Grimm he nearly forgotten what it was like. Their mannerisms and attack patterns paired with their strengths and weaknesses. But years of knowledge and muscle memory were sure to kick in the moment he was in the conflict itself.

Cleaning the last of the dirt from his weapon, he clicked the revolving cylinder out to inspect the chamber and barrel.

Satisfied with his work, he held the firearm up and near his ear while slowly cycling the chamber.

With five full clicks, he swiftly loaded in five fifty caliber rounds with a speed loader and flicked it shut with a satisfying chunk. It was a significant and welcomed improvement from the inferior hunter pistol he once boasted.

Sliding the weapon into his holster, Y/N continued in a sprint which was roughly the speed of most civilian vehicles.

He fought through the dryness in his mouth and the clench in his stomach. He usually had no trouble without food and water for days, but without blood echoes to fuel his body, he was less susceptible to dehydration and starvation than the average human. Nevertheless, the cottonmouth he experienced was annoying.

Blazing past bushes and trees at blinding speeds, he navigated his way to the south end of the mesa, where the outpost was described to be.

Bending his knees, he released a strained grunt as he launched himself up in a mighty jump.

He soared straight over trees to launch in a crouch. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he continued in a silent run. He was nearing his objective.

Coming upon a ridge, he stopped as the wind blew uphill toward him. He smelled a foul stench downwind, only one that could belong to soul-less beings.

Grimm.

Silently peaking over the said ridge, Y/N looked down to see a cliff's edge, and along it was the outpost.

It had several armored trailers that housed equipment and personnel. They hadn't gotten far in setting up as well, with unfinished hard light fences, fallen watchtowers, and defensive turrets still in their containers.

The situation didn't look good from Y/N's view. Just about every trailer was heavily damaged with their metal plating ripped wide open like a tin can.

Save for one. Near the cliff's edge was the last remaining safe haven, its doors were closed, and windows blacked out; Y/N suspected the survivors were hold up within, suppressing their negative emotions.

However much that helped, at least, because the grounds were littered with Grimm of all variety.

Prowling about the trailers were young and juvenile Grimm. But sticking out of the hoard was a couple dozen fully mature Grimm; alongside them were several alphas ranging in species.

Fighting too close to the survivors is a death trap. They could fall at a moment's notice.

All it would take is a single charge from an alpha Ursa to begin an unbalance. The trailers were undoubtedly heavy enough to crumble if too close to the edge. And from the state of the mobile home, it already took a couple bad hits.

Y/N sighed in disdain, knowing he had to lure them away. But a simple shot in the air or a shout wouldn't do it, not at his distance.

He mentally chastised himself; he wasn't even sure if he could take them all at once without a constant stream of echoes like before.