#Tyrian's here as an overdramatic punching bag

[spectralscathath]

Queen, Knave, King

fair Game Week, Day 6: Atlas Ball/Mantle Battle

Clover Ebi is in love with a dusty old Qrow. He knows it, Elm knows it, even Robyn knows it.

Let the cards fall where they may.

Ao3 Link

Elm spotted Branwen as he skulked around the edge of the Schnee grounds, snow crunching under his shoes in the silence as his cape fluttered behind him, the cold winds bracing and biting at her cheeks.

She shrugged to herself and walked over, giving Vine a wave to let him know she was going off on her own. He gave her a simple nod back, drawing a smile from her. It was nice to have such simple trust with her close friend.

Most people usually assumed they were a couple, which was something that Elm didn’t mind, exactly, but she knew Vine was as utterly disinterested in romance as she herself was. It just wasn’t something she felt. She’d rather have a close friend to watch her back then a lover, and that was that.

Before Vine had joined the Ace Ops, that friend had been Clover. The two of them had just been specialists that Ironwood kept pairing up, his flexible weapon and clever mind pairing well with her sheer sturdiness and ample strength.

It had been an excellent distraction at first, to apply her Huntress skills again with an entirely new element, and this time with someone who had luck on his side almost all the time. Much less likely he’d go the way of her old team. That had been reassuring.

Somewhere along the line, she’d started feeding him. She couldn’t help it, cooking and baking were just as much in her blood as being a warrior was. Unlike the friendships of team SBLE, formed through four years of battle and school, Clover’s friendship was found over shared meals and stories of a world beyond Atlas.

So, when she’d seen her friend steadily falling head-over-heels for a grumpy spy with a reckless defiance and a dour attitude, of course she knew it was her solemn duty to make sure her friend wasn’t going to get another scar on his ironically unlucky heart.

“Hey! Branwen!” She called out as he migrated from the grounds to striding along the top of the garden wall, steps light and balanced with his hands in his pockets.

He glanced at her and raised a brow, shifting his weight so he didn’t fall as she jogged over. “You after something, Ederne?”

She put a hand on her hip and looked up at his perch, taking another moment to deliberate on her plan of attack. “You know, you’ve been here for ages now and I still haven’t gotten a chance to even talk to you.”

“Been busy,” he drawled, shrugging at her.

“Hanging out with Clover, yes, I’m aware,” she grinned brashly, watching as his hair puffed up a little bit like an actual bird’s.

“What’s it to you?” Oh he got huffy. Guess he didn’t like that.

“Nothing much, I just want to talk.” She toned down her volume a little bit. Not everyone was as gung-ho as she was.

“About Clover?” Qrow glared at her, and were his cheeks a little pinker or was Elm imagining things?

“Maybe. But also just in general. I’ve seen reruns of your team’s Vytal Festivals. You were pretty impressive in your Academy days.” So was she, considering she had the winner’s trophy still on her shelf at her place.

Qrow gave her a suspicious look before he sat down on the wall, one leg dangling down as he used his other knee to prop up his elbow. “You’re a tournament fan?”

“I have the boxsets,” she admitted without a trace of shame. “You’re not?”

“I watched the one my nieces were in and that’s it. Except for when it was on in Vale when Ruby and Yang were kids, then it was a big family outing.” He waved a hand dismissively. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle.” That got a scoff. “Clover’s a good man to have watching your back out in the field. A good friend off of it as well.”

“Thought you Ace Ops didn’t do friendship,” he rolled his eyes at her.

“We’re not schoolkids, it’s not like we’re a clique,” she smiled patiently, like she had when team RWBY had said the same. “It’s a job first, and the job comes first, out on the field. Sometimes tough calls have to be made, or sometimes you lose people.” She knew that one firsthand.

“Yeah. Friends don’t usually work for me anyway. It’s best when I work alone.”

“Because you’ve done so much of that recently,” she couldn’t help a grin, and the glare that he shot her was downright malevolent.

“It’s different when his semblance can protect him.” Qrow snarled defensively. There was something under that, though. Something guilty and unspoken, like there was an end to the sentence he hadn’t tacked on.

“It can do that, yes, just as mine prevents me from being knocked down, but is that really all there is? He’s a good guy, and he’s worth making a connection with.” Well, this was something of a shovel talk, so she may as well bring it full circle. In for a penny, out for a pound. “Just… don’t string him along and hurt him. His luck can’t protect him from everything.”

She reached an arm over her shoulder, patting Timber affectionately with a cheerful grin that showed one too many teeth. “And if you do hurt him, as in, maliciously, your ass is dead. No pressure, though.”

Qrow snorted. “You think you can take me on?”

“I think I’m the woman who jumped off Atlas City and walked away whistling.”

Qrow blinked at her, looking almost impressed. “Huh. I have a friend in Patch you’d probably get on well with.”

“Introduce me some time when the CCT goes up,” she chuckled. “Just do what you think is best for you. And if that’s Clover, treat him well, okay?” Because Clover kept tossing Qrow the soppiest looks when he thought no one was looking, and even last night over their weekly dinner at her place he’d talked non-stop for twenty minutes about how ‘utterly gorgeous’ Qrow apparently was.

Which, valid, she didn’t get it, but hey, it made Clover happy. That was what mattered.

Qrow was still making some grumbly squawks of what was probably denial at her, and she shrugged them off with her usual unshakeability. “Anyway, good luck~” She singsonged as she walked off, and the next words thrown at her head was definitely an insult.

--------------

“Robyn, something came up! Qrow and I are going to be late.” Clover’s voice rang tinnily in her ear with the sounds of combat and gunfire in the background, the earpiece hidden by her hair as it squeaked uncomfortably. She held back a wince as she walked down the alleyway, technically searching for survivors but really walking around as the perfect bait for one little scorpion, slightly homicidal.

Damn. Sure, she wanted to beat the everloving shit out of Tyrian on her own, but she knew that it was smartest to have back-up on this fight, as much as it stung her pride.

Looks like she’d just have to manage until Boy Scout and his boyfriend showed up.

She hoped they were dating, at least. She and Clover barely talked anymore, not since she made a Mistake, big capital letters. Even her ego had to concede that particular clusterfuck that had destroyed their friendship had, yes, been her fault.

Still, she recognised what Clover In Love looked like, especially his showing off. She wondered how much of his posturing out in the tundra had been to try look tough in front of her and how much of it was him posturing for that goth twunk.

While he’d not taken her hand, a fair response after everything that had gone down between them and their partnership, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d finished her interrogation with ‘do you have a crush on someone right now’ like some teenage girl at a slumber party.

Her semblance, at least, never lied. Not the part she let herself use.

The rest? That didn’t lie either, but she wasn’t ever going to do that to someone again.

She wondered if the caped Huntsman with the hobo scruff knew how lucky he was. Clover was at heart a genuinely decent person, dumbass goody-two-shoes need to follow the rules aside, and his loyalty to Ironwood had actually turned out to be founded in common sense and actual loyalty instead of blind military obedience.

She wondered where his boyfriend stood on the whole Salem matter. Did he know too?

Well, he fucking did now.

She walked along, forcing herself not to look up at the rooftops of the alley around her. She was believed to be a main target for Tyrian, because of her ties to Mantle and especially the fact that she was alone now.

Tyrian was a predator, apparently. He’d want to skew things in his favour, and he probably thought a little bird all on her lonesome would be such an easy hit.

Robyn’s lips twisted into a vulpine smile, teeth flashing. Careful, Callows, this little birdy had fangs.

She heard boots land on the ground behind her and whipped around, her crossbow up and a bolt nocked and loaded. Tyrian Callows stood behind her, a mechanical stinger weaving almost playfully through the air behind him. He spread his arms in a theatrical gesture, brows furrowed with anger despite his smile.

“Robyn Hill!” He announced, crazed yellow eyes focused on her own. “You have such an impact on this city, it’s not what I would have expected from such a sweet-faced vixen like yourself.”

She loosed the bolt at his head, baring her teeth in a threat as he dodged it, an amused cast to his features. He was fast. Damnit. “If I’m so sweet then why do you want to kill me?”

Tyrian cackled at that. “I can’t have you bringing your hope and wonder everywhere you go, that just wouldn’t do!” He caught the next crossbow bolt between his fingers, faking a hurt look. “I find it… disappointing.”

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.” She shifted her weight, ready to move the second he came at her. She missed her longbow. She would have liked to use it to beat him to death. Maybe Clover could steal it back from the military for her, if he wasn’t busy mooning over that scruffy weirdo.

Tyrian snapped the crossbow bolt in his hand. “Oh I know, my dear vixen. Are you waiting for your dearest friends to arrive?”

Robyn shifted uncomfortably at the possessive undertone to his nickname for her, her crossbow ready. Catch this one, bitch, go on. “So you figured it out.” That apparently wasn’t the only thing he figured out either. Fuck.

“Do you think I’m a fool?” He laughed, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why, Robyn dearest, I’m hurt! No, the pretty bird and his kingfisher got held up by the General’s own bots. The good Doctor made sure of it.”

That explained the gunshots. “Guess I’ll just have to beat you myself then, Callows.”

His chuckles faded into a wicked smirk, his eyes glowing purple for a moment as his blades extended on his wrists, shaped like a scorpion’s pincers.  “You missed my blades at your rally, but worry not. You will never escape me now, my dear.”

He charged at her, laughing as he blocked every bolt she shot. He slashed at her and she jumped, her boot landing on his head as she used him as a stepping stone before she landed in a combat roll.

Her next crossbow bolt was knocked aside by his tail as he turned to face her, smile plastered on his face. She set her jaw in determination, lavender eyes hard as steel. Clover and his boyfriend better hurry the fuck up.

-------------

Clover tied up a bunch of Atlas bots, leaving them stuck for Harbinger to slash through them like butter. He looked around for any others and let out a breath he’d been holding when he saw no more.

“Qrow, come on, we have to go.” Robyn was fighting Tyrian alone and like hell was he going to let her do that alone. She was good, but from what Qrow said, Callows was better.

Qrow pulled his scythe from a bot and nodded, following him along. “You think they figured out she was bait?”

“I’ll bet.” He flung Kingfisher at a rooftop and reeled himself up, aiming to use them to get the drop on Tyrian. “That’s likely where the robots came from.”

He missed Qrow’s mutter of ‘just like Beacon’ as he aimed for where Robyn was meant to be, trusting that Qrow would be hot on his heels. They worked well together. Trust was a logical conclusion.

That was what he told himself but according to Elm he was not subtle nor did he have any intent to be. He liked Qrow, quite a lot, and he was fine with that.

Also he was going to take that moment where Qrow made a luck joke to him earlier this evening and run with it because that was a potentially very good sign.

A good sign that he could think about later, as he heard the sounds of a fight up ahead, filtering up the top of an alley into the Mantle air, and sped up.

He skidded to a stop at the rooftop in time to watch Robyn land a vicious hook into Tyrian’s face, knocking him back just enough for her to wind up for a kick to his crotch. Tyrian’s tail hooked around her foot, before his hand glowed with a strange purple light.

Clover tossed Kingfisher’s reel down to snag on his wrist, yanking his hand out of the way as Robyn rallied and tossed a punch into his throat. Faster then even Clover could react, his other hand skated across her arm with that same purple energy, her lavender aura shattering to pieces as the stinger wrapped around her leg constricted.

He heard the sound of cracking bone all the way from the top of the building, saw the tip of the stinger extend, and yanked with all the force he could manage to get the bastard away from his old partner.

He saw a blur of red and brown-grey drop past him before Qrow’s heel hit hard against the side of Tyrian’s head, Tyrian’s tail flicking to toss Robyn against the wall before he turned all his attention to the new player in the arena.

Clover jumped down, taking one glance at Qrow to judge the situation. Qrow’s gorgeous red eyes locked on his as the other Huntsman gave him a smirk, before turning his attention to Tyrian with a dangerous growl. “Miss me, Callows?”

Clover tuned out Tyrian’s gleeful response as he ran over to Robyn and crouched, looking her over for damages. The impact against the brick wall at the end there had caused her hair to fall loose from her usual ponytail, much more like the flyaway mess he recognised from Academy days. “Robyn, status report.”

“You’re late,” she grinned toothily at him, sitting up. Her long coat was missing, likely shredded in the fight if the tattered fabric on the ground was any indicator. Her left leg moved with the motion and she winced a bit, looking at the damage. “I’m fine, go help your boyfriend.”

He decided not to even bother telling her Qrow wasn’t his boyfriend as right now they were on a timer. “I have a small field kit, let me see your ankle first and if he stung you, then I’ll go beat his face in.”

“Fighting for my honour now, Biceps?” She chuckled, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

“Who says it’s for you?” He paused when he noticed a skinny red tail, tipped with white, poking out of a cut in her trousers, thin and limp and raggedy looking. “You shaved it?”

She shrugged at him, looking a little wistful about it. “Faunus don’t run for politics, Clover. Half of Mantle still hates them. If I want to make real change, it had to be done.”

“I know, Robert.” He nodded and focused on getting the supplies, rolling up her pant leg and whistling at the damage. The skin was already darkening with a ring of bruises, her shin noticeably caved in. The puncture wound was just under her knee, sluggishly leaking a mixture of violet and red.

He heard her swear when she saw it herself and then she spat out a filthy curse when he gave it a small prod. “It’s fucking broken, don’t touch it, dumbass!”

“Do you want to do your own field dressings? Because I’ll let you,” he snarked at her, tossing a glance over to where Qrow was using Harbinger as a reversed blade, curved around his forearm, almost like he was holding a tonfa, and used it to block Tyrian’s blades.

“Just hurry up and splint it and shit.” Robyn gritted her teeth. “Distract me by telling me how long you’ve been dating five o’clock shadow.”

“We aren’t dating.” Yet, he added to himself.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. Clover, what the fuck.”

“I’m working on asking him out.” He splinted her leg and she let out a sharp bark, the sound catching Tyrian’s attention. He charged at them before Qrow’s hand landed on his stinger tail, right under his telson, and yanked him back into their fight.

“Do it now, right now, after you beat that sicko, or else I’m telling him about the Haddock Incident.”

“Don’t you dare, Robert,” he dressed her sting and sat her against the wall. “Call a medic and a prison transport, we’re taking him in.”

Robyn grinned and raised her crossbow. “I got one arrow left, just for him. We’ll see him smile after that.”

“I’ll make sure you get the shot,” he knocked his knuckles against hers, careful not to touch the bare skin of her index finger. Some wounds went deep.

He pulled Kingfisher from his belt and cast the line forward, catching it on Tyrian’s tail as he yanked him back long enough for Qrow to land an uppercut and a shotgun blast right to his midsection.

Tyrian glared darkly at him, face twisted in a snarl as his eyes glowed like stars in the dark. Clover only had eyes for the genuine smile Qrow shot him, tinged with adrenaline and full of trust. He met that gaze with confidence, resolution setting in the furrow of his brow. Time to end this.

“Tyrian Callows, you’re under arrest.”

--------

I’m partial to Fox Faunus! Robyn, yes.