Reputation: Book One

Autumn

I'm loading my belt with my gadgets when Tripp's voice cuts into the commotion in my ear.

"I'm in the bathroom upstairs," He pants. "Autumn, I can assure you, you'll need new carpet after we're done."

I groan, slamming a magazine into my pistol. "It's gonna be your blood, too when I'm done."

It was hard to tease when what I said seemed so realistically possible.

I heard auditable shooting and watched my bedroom flicker with bright white lights through my window, and I was worried that my neighbors would see. It would be every man for themself if the cops pulled in. I turn to Jerzei, who has Talitha sat up in her trunk with a cool rag and bottled water helped to her lips. "We need to go," I say, trying to sound as brave as possible. She gives me a look of concern. "Talitha won't be able to-"

"I'm fine," Talitha interrupts, pushing the bottle back to her chest. "You all need me."

I give her a wary look. "Are you sure?"

"There's another Blitz in there," She says, taking the bottle of ibuprofen and spinning the cap off. I watch her carefully dump two pills into her hand, toss her head back and plop them in, taking a swig of her water.

"Yeah, but I don't want you hurt," I tell her. She swallows, arching her eyebrow.  "I'm not hurt. I only get tired some."

We stare at eachother, eyes calm but bodies on fire. I tried as hard as I could to keep my nerves on the lowkey.

"Okay," I sigh, turning away and blinking rapidly. I can't cry. Not right now.

"You two take the front door, I'll go through the back and close off the kitchen exit," I command, and with one single nod, they were off. I trudge into the backyard, holding my pistol to my chest as a follow along the cold brick. The gate swings closed and claps against the fence, igniting every nerve in my body. I wince, afraid that someone was to be keeping guard, I'd be in trouble.

"Where they at?" A male voice, low and gruff roars, the sound of the back door slamming shut. My gut writhes and I desperately look around, unable to see anything in the dark. A gust of wind blows through and leaves tumble down to the ground, and I suddenly have an idea.

I work quickly, dropping all my supplies to the ground and sprinting to the oak tree. I step up onto the low branch and carefully make my way up into the branches, lines of flashlights and lasers pointing out to the garden. I hold my arms out to keep balance as I anxiously hold my breath, praying my steel-toes were good for climbing trees too.

Two Myos approach the corner and I then see them, closer and closer as their lights swept over the neatly-trimmed lawn. I let out a shaky breath as I collapse into the trunk, hugging it tight. I glanced down and the ground swirled beneath me. I suddenly feel woozy, and as I try to step a branch higher, my boot slips and I start to fall. My hands catch a sharp branch and I force a scream back down my throat, the Myos nearly under me now. The bark of the branch bit into my hands and fingers, but I remained dangling there, scared that if I was to move they'd hear me.
They converse in German and bolt out of the gate, and I drop down to the log beneath me, loosing my balance again and plummeting to the hard ground. I hit on my stomach and my diaphram takes a minute to catch its breath, my ribs screaming in protest. I ball the grass into fists and utter a moan of pain, but there was no way I could lay there and get over it. I had to push through.

I stagger to the door and fall into my house, greeted by a sharp silver dagger whizzing past my face. A male voice cusses beside me, and I realize I'd left all my gear outside. I was so screwed.

"You're very lucky I missed," The man snarls, and I snap my head in his direction. He wasn't all that big, maybe the size of Qrow, but it was still going to be hard to do this with my hands.

I leapt for the knife block but he was too close, seizing my ponytail and ripping me to the floor. I cry out and swing around, thrusting my elbow into his face. He grunts and releases my hair, giving me time to lay a punch on his cheekbone. When I try to throw another one, he catches my other fist and twists it sharply, my body following through the motion. We both crash into the cabinets, his arms way longer and stronger than mine. I don't think I would be able to take him down alone.

I attempt to lift my knee into his gut but miss, his leg sweeping under mine and knocking me back to the floor. He grabs a fork from the counter and tries to stab at me, his jaw set and teeth barren. I roll to my stomach and push for the dishwasher, but there's a sudden sharp feeling in my back. I scream in pain as he pushes the fork deeper into my skin, raking it across my flesh. My blood is hot and my muscles feel like they're being ripped apart as I dig my nails into the hardwood floor. Frustrated tears prick the rims of my eyes as I scoot away, his hands wrapping around my ankle. He yanks me forward, my blue jeans sliding across the floor, grabs the front of my shirt and easily pulls me off the ground, bringing my face close to his.

"You'll die just like Hanaya did," He slurs, his breath the repulsive odor of beer and cigars. I turn away from him, gagging as he shoves me back into the counter, my head knocking back into the dish shelves. I spin around and reach for the knives, my fingers pinching the end of the closest one. Before I could grab it his large arm wrapped around my neck from behind and tightened, his other hand locking around his wrist and pulling it tighter. My breath is already gone from screaming, and I find no use in trying to gasp. He drags me away from the counter with such force, the heels of my boots squeak across the floor as I thrash around, trying to break free. I try to scream, but every whisp of air had been conpletely drawn from me. I can't breathe anymore. My mind is cursing at the top of its lungs, repeating Holy Shit over and over again. The grip on my neck tightens and I feel something inside my throat pop, pain shooting up into my jaw and spiking into my skull. I grab his arm with both hands and pull down with the strength I still had, his grip weakening just enough so I could suck in a new breath.

"Bitch," He yells, trying to pull closer again. I twist and kick my legs wildly, but he's too strong. There's an odd pressure on my chest, and it feels like I'm drowning. Slowly, painfully.

I see the counter through dark spots and raise my legs up, pushing back and the both of us backing to the other side of the kitchen. I kick at the cabinets, the drawers, silverware and cutlery rythmetically clanking together. He pushes my front into the counter, and my hand touches to something cold. I eagerly grab it and raise it up, but he's too focused on watching me struggle to see the knife. His breath is hot on the back of my head as I plunge the knife into the side of his neck, his grip immediately loosening. I gasp new air into my scorched lungs and cough, holding my throat to subdue the burning as I collapse into the counter. Crimson red blood pours down the left side of his body and he crumples to the floor, his limbs shaking and convulsing. I gasp deeply, glaring at his dying body as I slide to the floor, my knees wobbly.
I had to go get my supplies.

I reach up over my shoulder and touch gentle fingers to my throbbing skin, wincing at the stinging sensation. There's warm liquid that cakes my fingers and I peeled my hand away, the entire thing slick from fresh red blood. I stared down in horror. I could feel my hair matted to my scalp, and it stung. It stung so bad.

I groan and reach up, grabbing onto the counter to help me up. My legs shook with effort as I struggled off the floor, blood trickling down my spine and soaking my shirt. I make my way up the wooden stairs, my boots hard to keep quiet. I move past the bedrooms and just as I turn the corner, there's a crash in the bathroom. I urge myself to turn back, to go help whoever needed it, but I had to go find Talitha. I push my earpiece back into my ear, clicking over to the team mic.

"You guys," I cough, clutching my side. Tripp's voice cut me off, his demanding tone making me grimace.
"We need reinforcements guarding the basement and a double check on the heat cams," He orders. "There's too many of them."

"No, you guys," I say. "They're upstairs in the office. I need all hands up here."

"We can't let them find the basement," Tripp argues. "We need guard down here."

We needed Adrien. We needed help.

"Qrow, where are you?" He sputters, his words tumbling out in a heap. His words echo behind me, and it hits me that we're close together. I spin on my heel and dart for the rear hall, and I see his shadow in the bathroom. I take in a sharp breath as something flickers in my chest, his wide, fear-filled eyes somewhat reassuring. I plaster my hand to my mouth and I hug him tightly, and I've never felt so happy to see him. I tighten my arms around his waist and bite my lip to hold my composure, and my happiness sort of feels like hope.