Homeless Bunny 31

  Quetzalcoatl

  As always, Tianyu remained the most unusual Campione. He slew me when I descended to the mortal plane as a heretic god. That was nearly ninety years ago. He usurped my dominion over the wind and when I reformed in the Netherworld a decade later, he sought me out.

  Rather than looking to face me again while I was weakened, he sought to return my conch to me. He then challenged me to “a proper fight,” one in which my mind remained my own.

  For his victory, he demanded nothing else save for recipes from ancient Mesoamerica. As the god of culture and the arts, I was uniquely qualified to show him what my subjects had wrought. Like a proud father, I spent many days bragging about the creativity of my people. It was refreshing, talking about them without focusing on the cruelties that my peers so enjoyed.

  That was how I became his subordinate god. He impressed me with both his strength and character that I gave him my conch, and with it, my loyalty.

  Since then, I’d been part of only a handful of battles. I was a major god, with dominion over everything from the sun and the atmosphere to human culture, ceremonies, and travel. And yet, the rabbit was more likely to summon me to be a courier than a warrior.

  I felt the human squirm in my mouth. It was a thoroughly uncomfortable feeling, one I was unfortunately familiar with. This was sadly not the first time I’d had to deliver someone like this.

  “If you keep tickling me, I might swallow by reflex,” I rumbled, by far the easiest way to keep the package still.

  Sure enough, he fell as silent as the grave. Just in case, I made sure to waft some fresh air into my mouth so he didn’t suffocate. Dropping off a dead man would have been awkward, though I suspected it would have also gotten Tianyu’s message across.

  Really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d managed to get himself stranded in a foreign world, one in which the Age of Gods had ended, not by man, but by the hands of the very gods themselves. He’d then adopted a mother and siblings for himself. Not adopted into, adopted, because to imply that a Campione could lose his agency to mortals was ridiculous.

  I snorted at the silliness of it all. Only the bunny could do something so outrageous, and with not a single city obliterated in annoyance.

  With the speed of the divine wind at my back, Atlas soon came into view. As the only floating landmass on this godforsaken world, I couldn’t possibly miss it.

  The landmass was massive, easily as large as several mountains, and boasted flattened plains and gently sloping hills. Two buildings immediately stood out.

  The first was a tall tower that occupied a low hill. It looked like the center of human society, not unlike the temples my subjects once built me. I assumed it was the place of worship for whichever local deity kept their island afloat. Their Authority could be felt even from here.

  I put it out of mind. If there were any local gods that cared enough to object to my presence here, they surely would have made themselves known by now. If they did not care to face me, then nor would I bother destroying their place of worship.

  The second was just as tall, if only because it sat on a taller hill. It was a relatively flat, three-story complex with multiple wings surrounded by sprawling gardens. It looked like the kind of place a bunch of self-important mortals would reside.

  Then there was the strange hump on the bottom of the island. I found it odd that the humans here had managed to construct something like that. It looked like a barnacle attached to a whale. I wondered what could be inside. Surely reaching it without flight was impractical, unless they’d dug completely in and through the island?

  I got my answer as I drew near. Alarms began to sound, their incessant shrieking carried to my ears upon the wind. From below, ships bigger than my skull took flight. That made sense, then. It was a port for their skyships, likely constructed on the underbelly of the island so as to not disturb the city above.

  They mobilized in force. I counted a dozen large ships. Countless smaller vessels launched from those, like bees from mobile beehives. They gathered in loose, but clearly well-practiced formations as I approached.

  I smiled, lips stretching over my teeth. I was the god of culture, of civilization. I was the patron of the arts, but also of societal development as a whole, such was the influence of the Feathered Serpent. Seeing mortals with such technology, organization, and discipline made me happy.

  That was why I ignored them all. Tianyu had been clear; I was not to kill anyone. They fired their projectiles at me but in my infinite mercy, I granted them life.

  I stirred the wind and commanded it to carry my voice. “Cease your ineffectual struggle, mortals. I am Quetzacoatl, the Feathered Serpent and God of the West Wind. I am not here to bring you destruction, nor to consume you. You humans taste terrible anyway.”

  They did not stop. Bombs exploded in fire and ice and lightning. The explosives were undoubtedly very effective against their mortal enemies, but they failed to so much as scratch my scales. Were they not so incessantly bright, I might not have noticed I was being attacked at all.

  I hissed in annoyance, sending a deep vibration through my mouth and passenger. I gathered up the winds and commanded they obey.

  With a flex of divine might, the skies became still. No matter how hard their machines spun the air, no wind would flow into their ships. Hardened shells of air formed around the muzzle of each cannon and when they next fired, the ships were damaged by their own hands.

  “Are we done? Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery for Jacques Schnee.”

  X

  James Ironwood

  I was a composed, disciplined man. I took a great deal of pride in these things, for I was, at heart, a soldier. Yet, today, I saw the limits of that carefully curated discipline.

  There was a snake. It was nearly a mile long by our estimate. It had a beautiful, crystalline appearance that captivated all who looked upon it.

  And it was flying.

  For a moment, I thought this was a fresh monstrosity conceived by the Queen of the Grimm, but that could not be true. It glittered with every color of the rainbow, its glow somehow not losing out against the sun.

  I left defensive measures to my colonels and rushed to my office. Ozpin. I had to reach Ozpin. He had an answer for this. Or he had to be warned. If Atlas fell…

  The call went through immediately.

  “Ozpin, there is a giant, rainbow snake flying towards Atlas,” I began, my voice even. Briefings ought to be crisp and concise.

  The Wizard, that ancient figure of unfathomable power and wisdom, chuckled sheepishly. He raised his mug and took a loud slurp. “Ah, is he already there?”

  “He?”

  “I believe his name is Queso.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. His name is Quetzacoatl, the Feathered Serpent. As I’ve been led to understand, he is the god of the wind, sun, and a great many other domains.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. So much has been happening lately. I completely forgot to let you know he’d be flying over.”

  I closed my eyes, willing the mounting migraine to disappear. It did not. “What the hell do you mean you sent a god?”

  I took a deep breath. Things weren’t that bad.

  My subordinates fired on the literal god, but he did not retaliate. Apparently, The finest Atlesian military technology couldn’t so much as scuff his feathers.

  Then, the snake-god did something that made the wind stop. Our ships’ cannons exploded, sometimes damaging the ships and blowing themselves out of the sky. Currents of wind blanketed those ships, preventing every casualty.

  I didn’t know how to feel about that. It wasn’t the tens of millions of lien in damages that bothered me. It was the fact that we, the strongest fighting force on Remnant, weren’t threats; we were children to be coddled.

  A cold pit formed in my stomach. Was this what Salem was like? How could we ever hope to hold our own against the Queen of the Grimm if we couldn’t even touch a sentient feathered boa?

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I let out another defeated sigh. I’d just received word that Winter Schnee, one of my most decorated specialists, had abandoned her post to chase after the serpent. She’d even hijacked a personal flyer.

  I understood. Family was important, no matter how estranged she might be. I only hoped this wouldn’t turn into a tragedy.

  X

  Jacques Schnee

  I did not understand.

  Where did it go so wrong? I had not married Willow out of love; only the simpering fool that she was could have believed such a farce. Ours was an arrangement, a transaction.

  She got a life of luxury. The Schnee name rose to new heights. And I got the wealth and prestige I rightfully deserved.

  Some personal indiscretions were acceptable, expected even. There was no passion in the bedroom; it stood to reason that we would find our fun elsewhere. Brothers knew how my secretary got her job.

  And if one of those lowly peasants got mouthy after the fact, it was understood that we’d clean up after ourselves like the grownups we were supposed to be. It didn’t take much to silence an intern, a few grand here, a phone call there.

  Apparently, I’d sorely misunderstood our arrangement. Or I’d grossly overestimated Willow’s maturity. She was not a functioning adult; she was an alcoholic lush who coasted through life by the virtue of her family name.

  She had not kept her dalliances secret. She had not silenced her paramour. And now, not only had she put horns on me, she’d had the audacity to do it with an animal!

  I glowered at her with all the frustration built up over two decades of being married to this child. As always, Willow Schnee was drunk. This was not an unusual state of affairs for her. Usually, I left her alone to destroy her life and liver as she pleased, but this was too far.

  “You will disavow any knowledge of this incident and disown that bastard eyesore,” I growled, “or so help me I’ll–”

  “You’ll what, Jacques?” Willow slurred, face flushed red with the finest wines money could buy. She took a long sip from her glass, emptied it, then shrugged and reached for the bottle. “You’ll divorce me? Please, please divorce me.”

  “You–!” I lashed out to backhand the uppity whore. She needed to be reminded just who held the reins in this family, who’d raised up the Schnee name to its current glory.

  The blow never landed. Willow caught my hand with a fluid grace I’d only seen decades ago. I remembered then: This pathetic lush was once a huntress. She, like her daughters, had inherited her family Semblance. There was a time when she too had stood on the battlefield.

  I tried to pull away, but her hand was like an iron vice around my wrist. I could feel the bones in my arm creak as her fingers closed insistently.

  “Really, Jacques?” she smiled, her prior drunkenness nowhere to be found. Her smile was icy, as frigid as the Atlas winter. “Domestic violence? Are you sure you want to try that route?”

  “N-Now, Willow,” I began, hating myself for the stammer in my voice. “You don’t want to do this. I hold–”

  “All the cards. Yes, daddy did sign over the company far too easily. It was the biggest mistake of his life.”

  “That rabbit is not your son! He’s just a gold-digging bastard playing at public sympathy to–”

  “Oh, so you two should get along. Birds of a feather, right, Jacques?” she said sweetly. She took the bottle in hand and poured it over my head with a condescending smirk. “Run along, the company is yours, as is your oh so precious image.”

  I didn’t get to retort. The wall collapsed inward as if caved in by a localized tornado. Willow stood, Semblance dancing on her palm, only to be rooted in place by the human-sized eye staring at us.

  “You. Pasty male with the red wine marinade. If this is your idea of appeasing me, I’ll have you know that my palate has evolved over the millennia,” the eye spoke. He had a distinctive hiss that was almost melodic. “I prefer my human sacrifices medium rare, with a side of chimichurri and rice. Basmati, if you can swing it. Ooh, and a black truffle garnish would be great too, but don’t worry if you can’t. That one’s a bit of a reach, I’ll admit.”

  There was a monster outside my manor. He was truly massive, a many-colored serpent large enough to swallow goliaths whole. He was also apparently intelligent enough to speak and considered himself something of an epicure.

  And judging by his presence here, he had made light work of my clearly overpaid security staff. Former Atlas specialists my ass! They were worthless!

  Like the man of poise I was, I voiced none of my frustrations. I carefully weighed my chances. I doubted I could outrun this thing, but that was what huntsmen were for. It was about time that my dear wife did something useful with her life.

  “I am not wearing marinade, monster,” I said patiently. I may as well talk to the serpent at this point. Since Remnant had decided to take leave of its senses, it was only right to play along.

  “Red wine is a rather popular marinade from what I understand. Usually, salt, sugar, and herbs are added to further complement the meat. The acidity does wonders for most proteins,” he replied.

  I was being lectured on cooking by a giant serpent. My life no longer made sense. “That is true, but I have only a splash of red wine on me. You need many hours for any marinade to do its work.”

  “This is true, human.”

  “Yes, my wife on the other hand, has been an avid drinker for many years, nearly two decades. Surely she is thoroughly marinaded by this po–”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking with me,” Willow growled.

  “Now, dear, you are a huntress, aren’t you?”

  “Wow… I was trying to diffuse the tension with a joke, but… wow… I genuinely don’t know what to say to that,” the serpent muttered. “I am Quetzacoatl. Don’t worry if you can’t pronounce my name. Just call me Queso; the only human worth a damn does.”

  I took a deep breath. I now had to live with the fact that somewhere out there, there was a human who taught this monster about cooking. And those lessons had apparently stuck.

  “I am–”

  “Jacques Schnee. I know. I was told that you’re the most self-serving, arrogant, pompous piece of shit in the world. I’m glad to see the description was accurate.”

  “Now hold on–”

  Just as I was about to speak, Winter Schnee, my estranged daughter and decorated specialist, charged through the courtyard. She leapt into the air and formed a staircase of glowing glyphs, her rapier aimed squarely at the beast’s eye.

  “Face my blade, monster!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

  I would have been impressed, perhaps even touched by her show of filial piety, had she not frozen midair, as if an invisible hand held her up. She struggled as hard as she could but could not escape. She couldn’t even be heard.

  A large, glowing glyph summoned a white nevermore with a wingspan as long as a school bus, but that too looked diminutive compared to the serpent. It shrieked in defiance, like a starling protecting its nest, and tried to claw out the serpent’s eyes.

  For a moment, I allowed myself to feel a flicker of hope. Then that hope died an ignoble death. Queso, and what an idiotic name that was, crushed the nevermore construct in a ball of compressed air, seemingly without even the slightest strain.

  “Hmph. Rude mortal… Although, you smell like the little, white one. Weiss, I believe,” the serpent said. “Yes, Tianyu did say he had three siblings now. You must be the second sister. By the charity that is the Jade Rabbit’s divine domain, I forgive you. Feel privileged, mortal, and know that your life is not your own.”

  I recoiled. Tianyu. The bunny. Everything was his fault. He’d torn my reputation to shreds. He’d inspired this bout of rebellion from Willow. And now, he’d used his pet monster to assault my employee and destroy my manor.

  I took a deep breath. I could use this. I just needed to get through this. Then, I could bury the bastard in so many lawsuits his pointy ears wouldn’t reach the top.

  “Tia-The bastard is no fam–” I stammered, outraged.

  “Shh,” he shushed me. A snake… shushed me… “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m just the mailman, mortal.”

  So saying, he opened its cavernous jaws wide. His forked tongue, flexible and prehensile, looped on itself and reached inside. After a bit of digging around, he produced a man, soaking wet with saliva, and tossed him onto my thoroughly ruined carpet.

  I recognized this man. He was Jonathan Sterling, chief counsel at the Schnee Dust Company. He was competent and dignified, a true legal shark whose reputation had most of my so-called peers running for the hills at the mere mention of his name.

  He looked like none of those things now. His hair was matted to his forehead. His perfectly tailored suit was ruined beyond recovery. Though he was not malnourished or injured in any way that I could see, his eyes were as haunted as any found on war orphans.

  He was supposed to be in Vale, silencing that uppity bastard. Clearly, things had not gone according to plan. A sudden, sunken feeling formed in my stomach.

  “There. I think that’s yours. Tianyu sends his regards.”

  “Oh? My son?” Willow said in mild confusion. She was beginning to catch on.

  The monster turned to Willow. “You are Willow, mother of Tianyu?”

  “Ah… Yes…?”

  “Excellent. I will not eat you even if you have marinated yourself.”

  “Thank you?”

  “You are most welcome. You should be proud of your son. He is a truly splendid chef.”

  “Yes, I’m very proud of him. He’s great at cooking up interesting things, isn’t he?” she said. She pulled out another bottle and tipped it back with a happy sigh. In this moment alone, I envied her. Going with the flow must have been easy when you spent life in drunken stupor. “Would you like to stay for a while? I’ll have the servants prepare some refreshments. Flying all the way from Beacon must have been hard.”

  “You know what? Why yes, I’d love that. It’s good to see a mortal with basic courtesy,” he said, eyeing me disdainfully. Why me? I hadn’t even tried to stab him like Winter had. “I’d thought guest rights was a universally understood obligation of the homeowner. If this is how you treat guests, it’s no wonder your wife found a better man.”

  I glared impotently as Willow broke down in a fit of giggles. I didn’t know how, but I swore I’d make the fucking bunny regret darkening my doorstep.

  “Can you let my daughter down? She’s very eager, but she means well.”

  “So I see.” Queso set her down on the carpet. A long tongue reached out and settled over Winter’s head before rubbing itself distinctly in a petting motion. “It was a well-executed thrust, little one. You have potential.”

  Author’s Note

  Short chapter, but I think this is a good place to stop the Atlas segment. First rule of comedy: Don’t overstay your welcome. Well, the first rule is about timing, but it’s up there, alright?

  I’d like to remind you that I’ve not watched anything beyond season three. I know Ironwood knows about Ozpin’s history, but I don’t know to what extent. I’m just assuming he knows that Ozpin is the Wizard.

  Animal Fact: The eastern diamondback rattlesnake is the largest venomous snake in North America. It’s also the most venomous and kills the most people of all snakes here.

  Unrelated, it also tastes like chicken.

  Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: .