As frustrating as Sterling’s ball bearings were, the two Taijitu heads attacking Estelle did not remained rebuffed for long. Armed with the knowledge that the punishment the metal sphere could dish out could not get any worse, they snapped at the channeling faunus repeatedly. While preserved from anything particularly dire by the bearing cloud, Estelle did not escape some aura damage, lengthening the amount of time it would take to get the caravan vehicle to full speed.
Meanwhile, the near-maniacal fighting style of Lilac, meant to punish with vicious indiscriminate severity, landed her in hot water. After discarding the pair of Grimm fangs and jumping into the air, she prepared to deliver a crushing blow, but target whipped out of the way and circled her in an instant. While she managed to twist around in the air, the King Taijitu lashed out and butted Lilac with savage force, sending her tumbling backward. Upon standing up, she realized perhaps with the first time that she’d chosen the wrong fight to so carelessly insert herself into. Foes arrayed themselves at all sides, and if she expected her newfound allies to ignore their own problems and bail her out, she would be disappointed. Lilac watched as a Taijitu arced itself into a loop, the heads interlocking at the jaw, before it rolled toward her. Smirking, she readied her fists to blow it away, but ultimately overestimated her strength. The Taijitu loop steamrolled her, causing her to stick to its scales and be thrown into the air. As luck would have it, she landed on the caravan vehicle, though winded. Anyone fortunate enough to see what happened couldn’t be blamed for arriving at the conclusion that Lilac couldn’t act on her own anymore.
When Sarina came to Estelle’s aid, she made the Grimm parts rain, but not every monster fell victim to her initial salvo of attacks. Of the four heads assaulting the caravan a moment ago, only a single one remained, but this elder king had blocked her blade with steely fangs. Robbed long ago of one of its eyes, this deadly beast nevertheless boasted incredible speed and reflex—feats worthy of an emperor. Dipping past any strikes aimed its way and blocking those it could not, the Emperor Taijitu seemed the equal of any hunter. Now was the moment: the caravan’s speed lay on the very edge between slow enough to be caught and fast enough to escape. If Estelle took another hit, the entire operation would need an absolute miracle. Silent, the Emperor Taijitu slammed its head onto the caravan vehicle to the right of the group, before sweeping across its top like an person’s arm over a table, meant to scatter every senior to the canyon floor.
As efficiently as one could ask, team Bastille ascended to floor two. At the top of the staircase vault lay the residential area, a sprawling donut-shaped hallway lined on all sides by rooms. The middle of the donut appeared to be some sort of divided bathroom complex. To the right, everyone could clearly see a sign suspended over a pair of closed swinging doors that indicated the adjoining room to be the distillery’s cafeteria. In just a glance either way, anyone could tell that most of the doors lay open, as one might expect for a facility faced with evacuation orders. Amy could hear an irregular
thump noise, emanating from the direction of the cafeteria.
Investigation of the rooms would have to wait, however. While the students examined the scene, a dark shape darted out from a nearby room and scurried across the floor toward the cafeteria. Even from the back, its identity as a Scavenger could be clearly made out. Harder to hit than a Beowolf and stronger than a Griever, it nevertheless provided less of a challenge than the average Boarbatusk. Lack of confidence did not appear to be why the Scavenger fled with such singular direction, however. A low squeal at the edge of the swinging doors preluded a whole stampede of the ratlike Grimm, swarming from the dining hall en masse to rush down the corridor. Not a single one opted to take the alternate, longer route around the donut hall, but all of them skittered forward with murderous intent.
-MEANWHILE-
After trying the door to the decontamination room, with everyone prepped for combat, a massive sense of anticlimax blossomed in the room as the realization hit them that with no power, the normally-automatic door would not be moving anytime soon. A detour through memory lane to retrieve some kind of spare battery seemed appropriate, unless the combined strength of the three could simply tear through the square of metal obscuring their forward path. To be sure, the door that confronted them gave no impression of thickness, but metal did constitute it, and the use of a device like Luke’s drills might alert the very Grimm they wished to avoid.
To an observant student, a third option could be espied from their current position. If they hadn’t already faded away into forgetfulness thanks to familiarity, the vents and pipes that lined the ceiling might resurface in someone’s memory, though the act of navigating pathways clearly not designed to contain humans prompted hazards all its own. As well-intentioned as the reasoning and strategizing of the hunters-in-training might be, the realization more than likely occurred to them that peoples’ lives probably depended on their swiftness—running around to speed up a solution, even if it attracted monsters, would accomplish far more than simply standing around. The time for action was now.
As if to aid the formation of this conclusion, the acute students’ loneliness came to a sudden end. With a clatter, the elevator panel popped open like a dog-door, disgorging a pair of Scavengers. These hog-sized rats were accompanied by a trio of shrieking Grievers, who leaped from their hiding spots to converge on the three kids and give them something to really grieve about. A dilemma awaited Jack, Cian, and Luke: fight off the small but agile marauders and simultaneously find a way to move to the next room.
Though Priscilla’s move had been a clever one, its simple pushing power did not keep the Harpies out of commission for long. Additionally, the only way out of the room in which she found herself happened to be in the same direction she pushed the Grimm toward, meaning that her gambit availed her not at all. While one hit the wall and the other tumbled along the floor, neither wasted any time composing themselves and the next instant the harpies attacked again. This time they broke formation, moving at a leisurely pace while Priscilla charged them, and when the girl came into range they made their move.
One harpy, the one battered by her hammer swing, dove straight forward to strike low, almost to the ground, with raking claws. The other fluttered upward before swooping down, its talons ready to gouge Priscilla’s eyes. By working together like this, with one Grimm coming from heaven and the other from hell, Priscilla appeared nearly guaranteed to take a hit—unless a creative technique came to her on the spot.
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