[hider=My Hider]
Redwood never grew out of its small-town airs. The village had been connected by rail to Vale’s larger cities for decades, and roads even before that, but it just never attracted much attention. It didn’t have any major industries, it wasn’t on the road to anywhere important, and it had no historical significance. It was just… There. The residents all knew each other, and each generation rooted them even further to their home. That feeling of closeness and familiarity was wonderful, but it was stifling. When the roots went so deep there was no room to grow, and there was no chance to move on.

That was why Benjamin Lloyd left, but it was why he felt so nostalgic too. Not even outside the train station and he could already remember the last time he’d visited. The signs didn’t even register to him when he made his way to the exit. The young hunter had been able to navigate the terminal since he was six. Even the [i]air[/i] was familiar, a woodsy smell that pervaded every inch of the region. It was [i]home[/i], and he couldn’t say that he was unhappy to be back. Beacon was wonderful, but Redwood was comfy. Not that the town seemed to be too happy to see [i]him[/i]. The train had hit the biggest storm Ben had seen in ages almost two hours from their destination, and it hadn’t let up. The driving rain pounded against the station windows, and the lobby had to be lit with crude Red Dust lamps. Still, that wasn’t odd. Every few years, with a storm like this, the town’s power lines would be severed or damaged. Sometimes it took a while to restore the connection.

The people settled on the terminal’s benches with what looked like all their worldly possessions, however, were unusual. Ben picked his way through the darkness to the reception desk carefully, avoiding anything he might trip on, and clearing his throat quietly to get the receptionist’s attention. The poor girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound.

“Ah! Uh, yes, I’m sorry. How can I help you?” Her recovery was quick, but she still seemed a little uneasy. “You just arrived on the last train, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Ben began, taking another look around the terminal. After a second he gestured towards the scene behind him. “I was just wondering… What’s up with this?”

“They’re… Leaving town. Not permanently, I don’t think. I mean, I know the Martins aren’t, the Smiths might be. But they’re leaving.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

“... You’re Mr. Lloyd’s son, right? Ben.” The young woman took a deep breath. She massaged her temples a moment, then leaned in so she could speak more softly. “The power went down a few days ago. Tree fell on the main connections, whole town went down. Nothing too new there, but when they finally sent someone to fix it, it wasn’t the wind that brought it down. Tree’d been cut.”

“Someone took it down on purpose?”

“Some[i]thing[/i]. Grimm is what they’re thinking. Couple of homes have been attacked. Whatever it is hasn’t gotten in, but the doors were chewed up pretty bad. Battered, some damage that might’ve been claws.” A deep breath. “No one was too worried. The police have always been really well equipped, your dad and the rest of the merchants have always made sure. They put together a team to hunt it down.”

“Nothing new there.” Ben pointed out, but he was starting to feel a little uneasy. Just one Grimm wouldn’t have been enough to make such well-entrenched community leaders pack their bags. “This happens every six or seven years. A Grimm gets too close, the police take it down in a matter of hours. Why’re they leaving?”

“Because the sheriff turned up with a torn uniform, a concussion, and a bunch of other injuries two days ago. Right in town square. He’s been in the hospital since. People think they’ve [i]seen[/i] the damn thing, now, and no one knows what it is. It’s [i]smart[/i].” The receptionist pointed out the window, the street beyond barely visible through the rain. “People started barricading their doors as soon as night falls. I’d stay here tonight, if I were you. It’ll be night before you get home.”

“... I think I’ll take that risk. Call my dad’s shop, let him know I’m coming.”

She looked unhappy, but nodded. Ben thanked her, and as soon as he could get his coat on, he was out the door. The streets were even eerier. Normally there was some life to them, it was only early evening, but they were dead silent. The same Red Dust burning lanterns were lighting the streets as best they could, but they couldn’t compare to normal street lamps. There were long stretches of darkness between each source of light, and the rain only made it worse. Still, Ben knew the way. It was a twenty minute walk to his home from the station. Easy during daylight, and not even problematic at night. Usually.

Still, something was… Off. Even with the sheriff in the hospital, police should have been roaming the streets. No one was to be seen. With a Grimm on the loose, they should have been out and about. And [i]there[/i] was something that didn’t add up. If the Grimm had been loose three or four days, why had so little happened? Even a low level Grimm could have broken through the damaged doors, and it certainly wouldn’t have left the sheriff alive. Even if it was interrupted, it still should have been caught. Most Grimm were stupid, and Redwood didn’t have very many places to hide. It should have been caught. 

Unless it wasn’t low-level. The thought creeped into his head unbidden, and it wouldn’t leave. A few minutes after it occurred to him, he found himself running through the smartest Grimm he knew, trying to figure out if one could hide in the town. He was already halfway home, by now. The station was far behind him, and he wasn’t far from the center of town. Ben was a little surprised. He hadn’t been paying too much attention to where he was going, and the Dust lamps cast everything in a darker light. The damage to some of the doors stood out, now, bathed in red light like gashes in flesh. Red light leaked from between the tightly closed shades of each building, like blood from a wound.

[i]You’re letting your imagination run away with you. Cut it out.[/i] The hairs on the back of his neck rose against his will anyway. It was ridiculous. He was a hunter in training. He’d fought single Grimm before. If one was loose in the city, and he found it, he could deal with it. Getting worked up wasn’t doing him any good. Grimm didn’t [i]get[/i] big near Redwood. It was probably some Beowolf that wandered in, and was keeping out of sight. It might not even be in the city anymore. The team leader took a deep breath, and actually chuckled at himself.

He was being ridiculous. He was [i]in the town square now[/i], and there was nothing to see. Just carefully secured storefronts, the statue and its fountain in the center, and the town hall opposite. The statue was the same as ever. The town’s founder standing atop a hill, looking resolutely into the distance. Redwood’s eternal protector. Inspiring, if Ben was honest. He stopped just a minute to look at it, and smiled to himself. The people that were leaving would be back in a few days, as soon as the storm was over and things were patched up. And as soon as they did, the regal town hall would be the first thing they saw. Marble and stone construction, carefully maintained from the steps to the gargoyles.

Ben nodded to himself, and resumed walking. The rain was letting up, slowly, and the lamps were reaching a little further into the black. Only a couple more minutes until his house, but… He paused at one of the lamps, and wrinkled his nose. Something didn’t smell right. Pungent. Redwood always smelled a woodsy, rip with pollen and other plant spores, but this wasn’t right. His frown deepened, and he glanced back the way he came. After a second, he started walking again. He could figure it out later. It wasn’t an immediate worry.

His feet slowed again when the light behind him went out. Lancelot and Artorius were in his hands before he even thought about it, and honestly, he felt a little sheepish. The scene behind him was completely the same. There was nothing on the road, nothing in the square, and nothing to worry about. 

Until he realized that town hall’s gargoyles were gone. Then, with the sound of movement behind him, he remembered something worse. Town hall had [i]never had[/i] gargoyles. The feeling of claws knocking him aside was almost instantaneous, but in the blackness, he couldn’t see his attacker. A few shotgun blasts hopefully bought him some space, and also helped him jump back, away from his attacker. Benjamin Lloyd wasn’t ashamed to admit that he turned and bolted. Fighting a Grimm was one thing, but fighting one in the dark was quite another. So he kept running, dodging nimbly side to side to keep from getting predictable, but the next attack didn’t come. In fact, the Grimm seemed to be completely gone. No sign of it.

So he kept running. Whatever he was dealing with, it wasn’t a Beowolf, or an Ursa, or anything of the sort. And he hadn’t gotten a good look. Staying out at night, without backup, was just asking for trouble. His dad’s shop would be safer, and it was only a block or two away. He could have [i]sworn[/i] he heard a growl coming from the night, a thought that set his heart to racing, but he didn’t dare stop to check.The right street was coming up, he could practically see his destination, and his spirits soared.

Until he realized that the lamps were out on the street, and he could hear the sound of splintering wood. And there in the night, he could see it. Not much bigger than a man, but something about it was terrifying. And Ben knew exactly what door it was beating on. A shotgun blast got its attention, and suddenly it was lost to the blackness. Quiet, barely audible, but moving. And then it was upon him.

Still fuzzy, blending in with its surroundings, but Ben could see it well enough to attack. A shotgun blast leveled into what he thought was its ribs pushed it back, and let him sneak a stab in with his opposite tonfa before its paw smashed into his chest and knocked him back. And it was gone. he could [i]hear[/i] it, growling now, but he couldn’t see it. The lights were all out and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Claws slammed into his back, tearing through his coat, but it was gone as soon as he fired back. Only the briefest glimpse of crimson eyes, a glimpse he wasn’t sure he saw. He fired again, almost wildly, but it struck from another side. It was [i]snarling[/i] now. It didn’t care who heard it, it had its prey, and it was moving for the kill. 

The next blow hurled him against the wall behind him, and he felt its claws at his sides, slashing and tearing again and again. His Aura was holding strong, but it [i]hurt[/i]. And still the snarling was louder, the gleam of red eyes… He fired off a shotgun blast into its chest, and then again, and again. Ben had no idea of what he was doing, just wanted it [i]to get the fuck off of him, please.[/i]

Until he heard it give out a cry of pain. Not a snarl, not a growl, more like a… Curse. The pressure on him abated, his attacker trying to retreat back into the shadows. But he couldn’t see the glowing red now. The beast was big, menacing, with hate in its eyes and… And it wasn’t there. Almost between breaths it was fading away, into something a lot less frightening. A man in a Grimm mask, being pulled away by another human. One snarled at him, and for a second, he could see the Grimm again. They were disorienting, like they couldn’t decide on which they were as they began pulling away. 

But they were going away, so he started moving back towards the shop, nearer towards the Dust lamps.... And the pungent smell hit him again, a small snippet from a mission briefing from Beacon floating to the forefront of his mind. [i]White Fang operatives in the northern parts of Vale have been particularly active, trying to obtain arms and munitions. Raided convoys report hallucinogens, spread through the air when burned, being used to disorient before their attack.[/i]

[i]The power was taken out so the Dust lamps would be needed. Then the sheriff so they wouldn’t come looking… Hallucinogens to make people think there are Grimm…[/i]

“Dad,” BASL’s leader began, as soon as he could get through the door. A faint, tired smile crossed his face. “Think I figured out your Grimm problem.”
[/hider]