The Other Path [RWBY SI] [AHOIAC AU]

[shadenight123]

Cover By Fragnostic.​

Prologue

A ripple.

A pebble.

A butterfly who fluttered to the right and not the left.

Choices define who we are, when we are confronted with choices, the options we pick determine our destiny. Sometimes, we make the choices ourselves. Sometimes, they are thrust upon us. Yet, always, there is an option.

It is not always a good option. It is not always a proper option. It is, often, a suicidal option. When confronted with two paths, one can always choose to do nothing, but that isn't truly making a choice, as much as letting life make it for you.

There is always an option.

Sometimes, all one needs is the courage to take it.

Shortsightedness is a charming attribute of mankind, one which will, inevitably, lead it to its doom.

Unfortunately, in the realm of choices and consequences, we seldom know what we may expect. We rarely understand what is to come.

And I, definitely, didn't know what would come from the choice I had so boldly picked, not two seconds after pronouncing it.

I knew it now, of course. I knew it as I stood in a small dingy room rented from an equally shifty landlord in the middle of Vacuo. I knew it as all of my muscles burned from the strain of running beyond a normal human's capacity, and then being asked to run some more. I knew it from the sand that I still felt in unmentionable places, due to slipping face first against a sand dune, and letting it drag me down.

I knew it from the pain in my arms, which were valiantly used to drag me back up to finish the lap.

I had said no to a man I shouldn't have said no to. That was how it had begun. That was how everything had started. I had said no to my benevolent Father-Dictator, and since I had proven that I had a spine which wouldn't bend in his direction, or to his whims, he decided to reward me with what could properly be described as banishment, exile, or sending someone to the border as we Italians happily would say.

Of course, he hadn't actually forced me into the dingy room. He had most graciously left me to the tender teachings of a Mister Whitey, the regional director of the Schnee Refineries in Vacuo. The man had been a morbidly obese manager that didn't really care about what I did, or how I did it, just as long as he could get to shine for aiding Jacques Schnee's misguided son.

I had taken one whiff at his accounts, and had most politely offered an alternative.

I wasn't going to apologize to my father, and I definitely wasn't going to go back to Atlas. The man didn't know that. He also hadn't realized I had been bluffing about the knowledge of the extra cut I had accused him of taking, but when your name is that of one of the three piglets, and when you're clearly in charge of an evil company's most ecosystem-damaging part, then you can't be a saint.

My silence was bought with a simple thing. Out of sight, out of worries.

A simple stipend, a false identity to avoid people angry at the Schnee name, and the opportunity to train at a combat preparation school in Vacuo to then, later, attempt entrance at Shade's academy.

It was ironic, in a certain way, how I had begun to despise everything connected to the Schnee Industry within mere weeks of being disinherited from it all.

My name was Wren Shade, not Wren Schnee.

I did write a letter for Klein, though, hoping it would reach him and then the rest of my family. At least, the family I wished to contact. The problem was, as with all things, that the Grimm stood between me and them, and the brave postmen had actual problems getting in or out of Vacuo due to the deserts surrounding the place.

The small room suited me just fine, all things considered. It was what a normal huntsman student would have within his meager budget, and there was always work if someone looked for it.

Nobody was refused in Vacuo, provided they could survive.

It was all that it mattered to the people. Their past, their identity, their race, their beliefs-they were all meaningless. The sands of the desert ate good and evil alike. The government existed as a pro-forma, not as an actual entity. Policemen didn't patrol, or stroll. They just sat in barely fanned rooms and quietly played cards with the random guy down on his luck that wanted a free meal and a cool cell to sleep in at night.

A soft knock at the door caught my ears.

"Shower's free," the rumbling voice announced. "Hot water's finished."

"Going," I grumbled, standing up and grabbing what I needed.

There was one bathroom to be shared with seven other guys.

All of them were students. All of them would attempt to get into Shade's academy. All of them would probably get in.

The Academy, like the City, wasn't as selective as Beacon.

Anyone could get in...

...but only those worthy would survive it.

AN: This is an AU of A Heart of Ice and Coffee, and the prologue is a quick summary of the first two chapters, found here. We are going, once more, on an adventure. This time, though, we're going to do it properly in full Heroic Style. So, I'm also going to be warning you in advance that we'll be hitting OC levels that aren't even possible, trying to come up with colors, symbols and whatnot, as well as 'Unique Voices' is going to be hard, but it's an exercise I will be attempting.

Though, be warned.

There will be a grievous lack of coffee in this fic. OR cute daughter headpats. That's why we'll get the Waifus. Maybe. Nobody bought the DLC Waifu Pack Yet.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter One

Only fools would run under the midday sun of Vacuo. Huntsmen were fools, and I sought to become like them. The red faces around me told me that I wasn't the only one attempting to have its lungs die on him, but the sandy dunes we climbed and descended were the most natural of gyms we could ever hope for. There was some place we were headed for, and as our instructor kept trudging along without a care in the world for the heat, I was starting to think that perhaps the man's semblance had something to do with photosynthesis or whatever.

Rassvet had to be a natural Australian reborn into the lands of Vacuo to teach the Vacuan people how to survive. If not, and if he was just a run of the mill huntsman of Vacuo, then I was going to become the most hardcore survivalist in the history of the world of Remnant. Well, me and everyone else in his introductory class to surviving the wilderness and weathers of Vacuo.

"Now gather around and catch a quick break. No drinking," the man snapped as a few had already gone for their flasks of water. "You drink now, you'll regret it later. And you'll regret it a lot."

Stewing in our own sweat, my skin was already an angry shade of tanned. It was getting boiled like hard leather too. I reckoned the Grimm would just put me on a spit and give me a single turn before cooking me, and the image, by itself, was quite funny.

"You must never let your thirst dictate your actions. Learn to control it," Rassvet pointed out. "And now I want you witness the majesty of another of Vacuo's most beautiful Grimm creatures," and as he said that, he pointed in the direction of a dune of sand like all the others near it.

It literally had nothing to differentiate it from those around it.

We all stared at the hill as if expecting something to pop out of it.

Rassvet calmly walked forward with his cricket-mace-crossbow in hand, and as he came close to the base of the hill, he poked the sand dune with a hearty swing. The next second the dune of sand collapsed, and a bone-white shell of conical shape emerged from the sands with beady, crimson eyes at the bottom of it, and a pair of clacking pincers.

"This is a Hermit Grimm," Rassvet mentioned amiably, hopping on the Grimm's carapace as the creature began to fumble about on a multitude of smaller, black legs. "It lets sandstorms cover it and then waits patiently for its prey. It is an interesting Grimm, because it doesn't attack huntsmen or large groups. It knows it's too slow for it."

I just stared at the thing.

Many others did the same thing. "However, a lot of lonely travelers get done in by it. So caution is advised if you're traveling the desert alone," with a sharp swing, there was a resounding gong from the shell that Rassvet had just hit. "It's outer shell is incredibly sturdy. If you want to strike it, you must either aim at its pincers' joints, or at its lower, softer body."

We all gave nods.

"One last thing," Rassvet said, slamming his cricket-mace straight on the spot where he had his feet, letting one of his bolts with blue dust within depart and create a small floor of ice on the Grimm's shell. The ice spread, and Rassvet broke it with his feet, landing right in front of the creature. "The Hermit's shell is naturally sticky. If you get stuck, you'd better have a friend nearby to pry you free, or something to wash or freeze the sticking agent off." Then he slammed the cricket-mace into the creature's face and maw before it could even blink, and twisted the blow to kill the Grimm in question.

"That was cool and horrifying at the same time," the teen by my side muttered.

"There's got to be a way to find out what dunes are safe and what aren't," I muttered back.

"I know what you are all thinking," Rassvet spoke as he returned to the top of the sand dune, "How did this glorious exemplar of Grimm be found out? The answer is simple, of course," he glanced at the class. "Masochistic-Wren?"

"No idea," I answered honestly.

"Too much extra training got your brain and turned it into mush then?" Rassvet remarked. "Anyone else wants to try and show off they have a brain?"

"The sand wasn't falling," another voice piped up. It was Zhelty's. The straw-haired girl that could easily rip things in half grinned brightly as the instructor nodded in reply.

"Sometimes yes," he said. "When enough sand gathers though, it won't make a difference. It's either that, or look for the uneven distribution at the base of a sand dune. Hermits actually attempt to eat wildlife when it passes them by. So their mouths are normally less covered by sand, and form natural whirlpools you can, sometime, catch."

He then shrugged, "If all else fails, just tap the dunes really hard on your way. A well placed kick is usually enough to reveal a Hermit, and once revealed they'll just move away. Don't bother with them unless it's your mission to."

"But they're Grimm," someone in the group pointed out.

"Then you can waste time and resources killing them," Rassvet replied. "Remember. You're here to survive. You're not here to save pretty princesses and damsels in distress. Hell, if a pretty princess gets dragged in the middle of the desert, either she's got what it takes to survive, or she's just an extra weight. And what is one of the rules of the desert, kids?"

"Bring plenty of water?"

"Come on, you can do better than that Jasil," Rassvet retorted. "It's one extra lap."

"Oh, bugger off," Jasil grumbled under his breath.

"Travel light," Gorm said. The owl-faunus received a nod of agreement from the instructor.

"Once in Shade, you'll get assigned to teammates. Treat them well, they'll have your back out here. But that means you also have to respect them, just as much as they'll respect you. Taking on extra work means disrespecting them, because of course they're going to help you out," Rassvet spat to the side, "If you want to be a Grimm exterminator, do it on your own time. There's no lack of Grimm around the desert. Just pick a direction and go hunting. But when it comes to your future team, and to your missions, remember it's a job. First do the job, then do the extra on the side."

"What if there's someone that needs a hand, like a child or something?" someone asked.

"First off, we ain't dealing in hypothetical. There's no way a child would be alone in the middle of the desert," Rassvet grumbled back. "And if he's managed to get that far on his own, chances are he doesn't really need your help anyway. That being said, even the greatest slip. Give a hand, receive a hand. But don't bother going on the lookout for them; you'll be doing no one a favor if you return tired, and without having made a profit to survive until the next mission. Are we clear on this lesson on Desert Survival One-Oh-One or do I need to pound it into your skulls some more?"

"Clear," everyone said at the same time.

"Good, then what are you gawking at me for? You've rested enough. Now run the way back. And again, no drinking! Command the thirst, don't let the thirst command you!" and with that being said, we ended up scrambling to our feet and running our way back. Under the still hot sun of the early afternoon. Because of course, why wouldn't we enjoy a bit of an extra sunburn on the side?

The sad thing was that my day wouldn't be over after this.

I had a job lined up. A job only the likes of a true Vacuan could ever possibly think would be nice to do.

Scrap delving.

How the mighty had fallen...

...being a glorified garbage diver wasn't how I thought I'd spend my early teen years.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Two

There were a lot of places around Vacuo that had long since been abandoned. Whether it was due to a lack of resources, or because the people had upped and left to form a new smaller camp elsewhere, they sometimes left stuff behind. This repeated itself throughout most of the history of Vacuo of the last eighty years, and eighty years of nomads taking stuff and leaving it behind when broken made the desert a treasure trove of broken scraps.

One could find anything when the winds were kind and moved a dune to the right or the left, revealing broken and discarded weapons, dried pieces of paper, torn clothes that could use some stitches and often, Grimm.

Well, it wasn't like Vacuo stopped being a dangerous place just because one had a job to do. The bigger targets however were old refineries. Places that had once seen use, and then after the Great War had been abandoned in a hurry. Places that had been overrun by Grimm, but then the Grimm had moved on, leaving them uninhabited.

It was Gorm who suggested me that kind of job. He was looking for a pair of extra arms, and I was good enough while having a decent head on my shoulders to know when to call it quits.

It was important in the scrap-delving job to know when to call it quits, because even if you got the biggest haul, you still needed to bring it back.

No trucks or tools. Just two young teenagers headed for the dumping yards, trailing past toxic pools and then aiding one another in dragging large pieces of uneven metal to scrap buyers.

Two people could carry more than one people ever could, and two would-be huntsmen had the strength advantage to bring over long distance veritable weights of wrought iron and broken steel. We made Lien. Not much, definitely not as much as the scrap seller would make by melting the iron and then reselling it in pristine conditions, but it was good money. Doing it a few times a week was enough to pay for the room's rent. Doing it nearly everyday was enough to live in Vacuo just like any other student would.

Of course, scrap was a finite resource. When one place finished, one had to find another. There was competition. There were sometimes where we just had no luck, because others had come first and were pretty aggressive about defending their piles. Some were training to be huntsmen, and were older. Others were younger, but had the evil gleam in their eyes of street rats.

I reckon we did pretty well as a team. Not too much, nor too little. It was strange eking a living when I actually could access a personal bank account, but one thing that remained firmly fixed in my mind was the need to diversify my investments. Money should always be in three different places. One on your own person, one hidden in someplace you can reach, and one in the bank. So that if something goes wrong, you can easily access it elsewhere.

It was also good muscle training.

I had a purpose I wished to achieve. I needed the strength to do it. I needed the endurance. I needed the speed. The technique, I'd hopefully learn.

We were carrying back a long tube of iron that had once been a plumbing pipe, filled it with nails and small iron stuff, and had random wires hanging atop it when Gorm's head turned to look at me. His Owl-faunus heritage made him capable of turning his head one hundred and eighty degrees, and it was an unnervingly creepy thing to see.

"With this, we should have enough for the next course fee," he said. "What are you going to take?"

"Weapon building," I said. "You?"

"Martial arts," he replied. "A weapon costs too much to buy, keep and maintain anyway. Maybe later, when we can get better jobs. Right now, I just want to know how to defend myself."

I turned thoughtful at that. "I didn't think about that. Guess I'll follow you."

"See, that's why I say we're two birds of one feather," Gorm said with a deep rumbling chuckle. "Pity you're not a bird faunus."

"Not everyone's perfect," I dryly quipped back. "I do have a bird-brain, though."

"Oi, you trying to be funny or trying to be racist?" Gorm grumbled, a hint of a snicker on his lips.

"No idea, but look ahead, will ya?" I retorted. "If we drop this, you're the one who's getting it all back."

His head swiveled back to look ahead. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Guess I'll make you eat the ground during training then."

"Sorry, can you repeat that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of how much kicking your ass is going to receive when we get to it," I replied nonchalantly.

We both laughed at our own quips. That day we got paid a bit more. I knew it, of course. Copper always went for more than iron. Copper wiring, especially. There was a reason people kept stealing it; it was used in a lot of things, and sold for a good amount of Lien.

Time was the only thing that mattered. The more time I spent training, practicing and taking courses, the easier it would be to face the Grimm, and then the enemies ahead of me. I had to become the very best, like no one ever was.

Yet the mountain looked insuperable.

"You need to pay attention to what's in front of you," the instructor barked. I couldn't help but agree, and I also couldn't help but feel frustration about it.

Whether I liked it or not, there was an inevitable problem that I needed to fix, and that I couldn't fix.

I needed glasses. My right eye was perfect, but my left one-my left one had always been problematic. It was time, I reckoned, for it to get progressively worse. Buying a new pair in the middle of Vacuo was out of the question. The last pair had broken due to training, and I didn't doubt that any new pair would suffer the same fate. I needed something sturdier, and I had no idea where to go for them.

"You look like you ate a sour lemon," Gorm remarked after another round of beating me into the dirt. Once he understood that anything coming from the left would be less gracefully blocked than the right, he took the advantage for what it was. "Something the matter?"

"My sight by my left eye-it's getting bad," I answered with a dreadful sigh. "I'm seeing a blur where you are, and that's on a good day."

"Get some goggles then," Gorm said with a shrug. "You can starve for a day or two."

I looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "Goggles...for eyesight?"

"Yeah," Gorm acquiesced. "Though maybe you'll need a monocle or something," he snickered at that. "But if you get a fancy cane to go with it, I'm making you swallow it."

"The monocle or the cane?"

"Yes," Gorm said.

"Yes what?" I sighed, extending a hand to get him to help me back up. He did so, the tender summer child, and I slammed my left fist into his guts.

He went down with a pained wheeze. "What. My head's still ringing. Sorry, didn't see your stomach there."

"When-When I get back up," Gorm muttered, "I'm giving you another serving of sand."

"I'm scared. So scared I may shit glass," I mused with a dry chuckle.

He got back up. He mercilessly tore at me, and I did my best to counter him. We had been shown some simple moves, but for the most part were left to fight one another until we got tired of getting bruised, and then we'd catch some breath, exchange partners, and repeat the process.

After Gorm, it was Zhelty's turn.

I whimpered.

She, differently from Gorm, hurt a lot more.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Three

Professor Valtò taught Martial Arts. His martial arts consisted of letting the students get used to the idea of beating one another. It was a nice class, unless you got Zhelty as a sparring partner. The moment you did, you had to learn how to dodge.

She was a nice girl, I reckoned. She was freckled, had straw hair, and a petite frame. She also punched concrete blocks into dust grains, and I couldn't believe that wasn't a semblance of some sorts. If so, she was extremely lucky to have unlocked her aura, or extremely unlucky depending on how she had unlocked it. Still, it didn't change the fact I had to duck, dodge and most importantly...not roll.

First thing professor Valtò explained was that rolling was a no-go. Anything in which you give your back to the enemy or put your feet off the ground is a no-go unless you've got a mean to change your footing and direction in mid-air, in which case, go for it.

Yeah, huntsmen tactics pretty much went with 'Do this, unless you've got some reason that makes this other thing better, then definitely do that'.

The end result was that I was running in circles while Zhelty attempted to pursue me, but due to her shorter frame, actually came up short from catching me.

Ha. Came up short. Because she was short.

I was truly a natural-born comedian.

"Stop running!" Zhelty hissed. "Fight me like a man!"

"I'd rather fight you like a chicken," I replied, realizing there was a wall coming up. I rushed for it, placed one foot on its surface, the second soon coming up. Physics cried, and I silently apologized as I did a wall-walk, reaching for the top before doing a back-flip and proceeding to slam one of my feet straight against Zhelty's chest. The blow connected. I could feel it. The girl, of course, didn't recoil.

We were talking of another prospective future huntsman, so regardless of how hard I had kicked her, she would have taken the blow anyway.

I ended up with my back on the ground though, having lost my precarious balance by executing that beautiful kick of mine. "Zhelty, no," I said.

"Zhelty yes," Zhelty answered most nonchalantly, her knuckles cracking before rushing for my body. Her knee landed against my stomach, and I saw stars before her knuckles saw the side of my face. Or at least, they would have had the professor not stopped her from the blow.

He didn't push her off me, though. "Now, students, gather round. This is quite the practical situation at hand, how do you fight off someone kneeing your guts?"

I wanted an answer to that quite quickly too.

"First, you must nullify the weight of your opponent on you," and as he said that, he gestured at me. "Please, try."

I stared at him in disbelief. Seriously?

I moved both of my hands to grab hold of Zhelty's leg and pulled. "Now punch him because he forgot to protect his head."

I survived the swing because I moved back against the ground, doing my best flat-worm impression as the fist sailed upwards. The moment it did, I moved up and grabbed hold of her back. I hissed as I felt the pressure increase, but at this point, I just pulled her down to the side.

"And that's how you do it," professor Valtò remarked.

"When you let me go, I'll pulverize your face," Zhelty said calmly from where I was holding her down, though I could still feel her knee against my guts, and I could still feel her tense as her arm pressed against the ground began to wriggle in search of room to move.

"Now, ground-fighting is something of an art, for the less experienced, expect this to happen in all fights in which both people are drunk, or you are in a bar and someone really clingy refuses to let go. If you are in such a situation, then remember that quick punches to the face when possible, or to any spot where there are few bones, is amenable. For example from that position there are floating ribs that can be broken-if the proper strength is applied," Professor Valtò remarked.

"I don't break your ribs, you don't pulverize my face?" I muttered, realizing that my grip on her was starting to falter. I hoped she wouldn't notice yet. I really liked my face.

"You can't break my ribs even if you tried, stupid chicken," Zhelty growled. With a push from her free arm, she actually broke free from my hold and used her knee in my guts as some kind of lever to push herself back on her feet. I took that as the cue to just roll on the ground and back on my own two feet away from her.

"Can I change my sparring partner yet?" I asked, my eyes still on Zhelty, who charged in with her fist ready to pound against me.

I watched it come, saw it sail for me, and then I moved to the side with all of the grace of a toreador attempting to avoid a bull. Or at least, in my mind's eye that was what I was doing. Truth be told I was probably just making incredibly silly jumps to the sides, but I could do them all day long. Fear of pain was the most powerful motivator known to man. Fear of Zhelty would be enough to send me to the moon with a single jump if properly bridled.

Her next swing came soon after the first. I stepped back. I kept stepping back. Her swings were short.

Did I already mention it was because she was short to begin with?

"Oi, Lilliput, stay put," I said.

"Did you just call me short, you bastard!?" Zhelty roared.

I had a vision.

In one single, fell swoop I had a vision. I knew. I knew beyond doubt. I saw and I knew and I understood.

Death was coming.

Her leg swung in an upward arc, actually managing to graze my clothes. I could feel a sharp burn when the tip of her boot had managed to scrape my flesh.

My hands moved to grab hold of her lifted leg, and then, quite amiably, I twisted the leg to one side. She spun on herself to avoid losing her balance, and seemed keen on flexing her leg to get closer, so I made her wish come a reality and ended up drawing nearer myself, delivering the mother of all kicks to her other leg and pushing her down on the ground, her leg still firmly in my hands as I landed with a satisfying thud atop her back.

Then, I pulled the leg to me.

"Let go of me you frigging shoe-loving pervert!" Zhelty growled.

"I value my life very much," I retorted, holding on for dear life.

"You'll value it even more once I'm done breaking all your bones," Zhelty hissed.

"Very well, you can change partners once more," the Professor remarked, "Power means little without technique, and technique means little without power," and as he pointed that out for Zhelty's benefit, I let go of the girl's leg and then rushed off to find another partner before she could decide whether to pulverize me or not.

When my next opponent turned out to be a reasonable young teen just like me, who cared about practicing and not punching one another's face in, I was happy.

My tears of joy at having avoided her were short-lived, however.

Gorm, what do you mean Zhelty is coming scrap scavenging along with us now!?

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Four

I understood Gorm's logic. I didn't like it, but I understood it.

"So you're serious about this," I said as I glanced once more towards Zhelty.

"It's easy money," Gorm answered with a faint shrug of his shoulders. "After that thing with the copper wires, I realized we can get a lot more from abandoned buildings if we just break the walls down."

He had pickaxes on his back. He had come prepared. "And why is Zhelty coming along?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Because I want some quick money too," Zhelty said, "Or are you saying that a shortie can't do this, uh?"

"Never said that," I said hastily. "Never would mean it either," I continued.

We weren't headed for our usual dumping dive spots. We were headed for somewhere else. Gorm handed both me and Zhelty a pickaxe as soon as we cleared the most trafficked streets, and then we came to a halt in front of what looked like an old and dilapidated building. "This place's been around a lot. Nobody's living in it, and the people that sleep in it won't care if the walls have a few more holes in them," Gorm said.

"I can't help but think that you're always bringing me to the nicest places in Vacuo," I grumbled under my breath. "What next, a toxic swamp?"

Gorm turned its head one hundred and eighty degrees. "I was thinking the sewers to steal the service lights in there, but hey, this works better."

"Are you boys going to stay out there or start breaking walls?" Zhelty grumbled, stepping inside. We both followed her, though it was clear by the stench within that some people did indeed use the place, though not just as a sleeping spot either.

"We're training to be huntsmen, and Zhelty can punch people real hard," Gorm muttered under his breath as I moved by his side. "It should be fine."

I rolled my eyes, neared a wall where an electric switch, or the remains of one were located, and slammed the pickaxe into the wall. We swung like madmen, and, as was obvious, we ended up spending most of the afternoon just breaking down the concrete chunks. I had a bad feeling about the sturdier walls, though, and didn't count my chances in stepping into some rooms alone, but all three of us worked for most of the evening, and stepped outside with bundles of tightly rolled wires.

It was then that the mystery finally clicked to a close, as we stepped into the scrap shop that had seen our patronage since the very beginning.

"Old man, I'm home!" Zhelty said, dropping her bundle on the counter.

"Ah," I said most wisely. "Now everything makes perfect sense."

"You saying I'm short because I don't eat enough milk or something?" Zhelty turned like a fury in my direction. I raised an eyebrow at that non-sequitur.

"No, I was wondering where your strength came from," I glanced at the shop's entrance, filled with all manners of broken metal pieces, some big and some small. "Guess you've been lifting a lot, uh."

"And because of that I stayed small, it's what you're trying to say, yes?" she lifted a fist in my direction.

"Seriously, no. I said Lilliput once, are you going to let that go anytime soon?" I retorted in disbelief, even as the old man she had mentioned stepped into view from the shop's back. The hands drenched in motor oil, he had straw hair just like his daughter, which truly should have clued me in earlier, but a more vibrant smile on his face.

"Another good haul?" he asked, "Which is which?"

"Split it evenly, pops," Zhelty grumbled, both arms behind her head. "And try to be nice. Wren's a shit-head but Gorm's all right."

"Then let me weight the wires and go from there," her old man retorted, grabbing hold of all three bundles and just throwing them atop a weighting machine. "Now, discounting the rubber banding-"

"We both know the rubber banding gets melted together and sold apart," I spoke up, "Come on, try something better."

"I can see why my daughter calls you a shit-head," the old man muttered. "She always did hate smart-asses."

"What is it with people insulting me? Is it a national Vacuan sport?" I grumbled back. "Oi, Gorm, hoot a bit."

"The hell!?" Gorm exclaimed, "Why are you taking it out on me!?"

I shrugged, helplessly. Zhelty's father didn't shortchange us, though, and we all stepped outside with a small amount of Lien safely tucked away in our pockets. Mine was inside the pocket I had personally sewn on the inside of my shirt. There was no way I would let street pick-pockets get their hands on my hard-earned Liens. They'd have to find them on my person, after stabbing me repeatedly.

"Want to go for something to drink?" Zhelty asked. It was going to be either a soft drink or cold water.

"I can't," I said, "Got to put the money aside for the sight-goggles."

"Are you saying a shorty can't offer a drink?" Zhelty growled.

"You're offering?" Gorm said, surprised. "What died and made this a miraculous day?"

"Shush it, I was looking for something to earn some Lien anyway, and going with you two is better than going alone," she stressed out. "So? Still going to say no? Are you racist towards small chipmunk-people too?"

"You're not a chipmunk-person," I answered. "Nobody said you're the size of a small chipmunk. I didn't say it. Gorm didn't say it. Who the hell would even say it!?"

Zhelty stared. She waited for my reply. "Fine," I said in the end. "But I can't stick for long. I've got to get an hour of weight-lifting in before the prep-school closes for the night."

"Didn't you do that already this morning?" Gorm mused.

"Yes, which is why I'm doing it again later," I pointed out. "One day, when we're all kick-ass huntsmen and I boldly drag your unconscious ass away from a powerful Grimm, you will thank my future biceps."

"Hoot-Hoot," Gorm hooted, quite amiably showing me the middle-finger.

Zhelty snickered. I playfully shoved him, and he shoved me back. Then we followed Zhelty to her favorite watering hole.

I ordered cold water. Gorm got a cold tea.

Zhelty went with milk, and cracked her knuckles at someone's snicker.

It definitely wasn't me, though.

I swear, Zhelty, it wasn't me!

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Five

Introductory classes left the place to beginner classes. Beginner classes were beautiful because, as much as they were simple, some of them were held within the cool interior of the school's rooms. I wept tears of joy at the sight of a desk, and its gleaming surface of beauty was soon replaced by one of despair as I realized that after spending a few hours under the sun gleaming from the window, it was an outright scorching stove.

Still, as much as I didn't want to, some beginner classes were needed in order to advance into more complicated lessons.

"There are different types of Dust, some of the most common are fire, ice, lightning-" the professor droned on, and on, and on. The lesson on Dust was, especially, extremely tedious. I knew that stuff already. The different types, their different reactions when detonated, the instability of the crystals-yes, I knew all of that. The exam on that sort of thing, I passed with flying colors.

Now the lesson on weapon handling and mechashift theories, those I could get behind.

The problem was that one had to build his own weapon, using his own materials. It also meant having an idea on what one wanted to build. The simplest ones, things like daggers, or swords, were sent to the forge. If they brought scraps, they'd get the scrap melted and then they'd get to work on their casting. The more complex one wanted his weapon to be, the more time and effort he had to put into the class.

Gorm, treacherously, had life easy by deciding to make a chain of sorts with a hefty spiky mace on one end. Since he could turn his head in every direction, I reckoned it was the perfect weapon for the likes of him. Zhelty was the one that surprised me the most, since I would have thought that she'd keep up with the idea of being a wizard that only cast the spell 'Fist' at her opponents.

"Is that a shield-sword on your right arm?" I asked, and received an affirmative reply in the form of a vicious smile and a swing.

I actually avoided it by a hair's breadth. "Oi, oi, oi! This isn't like fist-fighting. That can hurt people!"

"Oh, you baby, it was just a friendly jab," Zhelty replied with a wink in my direction, patting the tip of her sword-shield.

"Be less jabbing then," I grumbled.

We were standing in a line outside the promised shadow and coolness of a room of the preparatory academy.

My own weapon was still in a prototype-phase. Well, it wasn't my fault that I had ideas, and as long as I brought the materials and built it myself, I could do whatever. It was technically extremely simple in the design, but after they had mentioned that one could layer Dust into the weapon for special effects, I couldn't help but want a piece of that too. The only problem was the cost.

I didn't need much of it, just two vials. Two of Earth Dust, and two of Hard-Light Dust. The former was easy to obtain, the latter was costly. Too costly for the time being. I'd upgrade the design later, but as things stood I had my nice, comfy gauntlets of wrought iron and everything nice around my hands and proceeding slightly down my forearms.

"First of all," the instructor spoke amiably, "We will attempt to see how well you've built your weapons. Prototyping is good, practice seldom brings it out. One at the time, step forward."

Some students got nifty weapons. The simpler ones worked the best, or were at least the ones that broke the least. Some of the most complex ones, like the cannon-sword-gun-mace-polearm that someone built, or the crossbow-scythe-twin-revolver, didn't last more than a couple of blows before breaking into pieces. Some didn't survive the trial of combat. Gorm's weapon was great on a lot of levels, but when the mace came swinging back for his face, he couldn't redirect it with the chain and ended up receiving it straight against the face.

Or well, he would have had the instructor not blocked the blow with a shot from his Gunblade redirecting the mace away from the boy's face. The man had a Gunblade. He didn't have a cool jacket, because only fools wore jackets in Vacuo, but he had a cool gun-sword.

Zhelty's own weapon fared noticeably well. It was practically one lithe and elongated piece of iron around her right arm that worked as a shield, with an extendable blade that would stick out for an extra penetrating jab, or for a few swings.

Then it was my turn, and I thumped both of my gauntlets together as I took the central stage.

Atop the forearms rested three iron bolts each. The idea had come to me after much pondering. I needed a sturdy melee knowledge, and I needed some options for long range. Once I got my aura unlocked, and my semblance learned, it would be a matter of putting the theories that fluttered around my head into practice. Until then, though, I'd trust in my fists, and in my bolts.

With a flick of the wrist one of the bolts was released from its custody as I simultaneously punched forward. It flew forth, physics crying as was the norm. One day, I would buy physics some ice-cream and a glass of beer to ask for forgiveness, but it would not be today.

The bolt actually went a bit to the side, which meant I'd probably need to invest in some sort of loader to push the bolts into a central position and maybe, once I got actual money, into a launcher kind of like a miniature crossbow.

Until then, I just would have to punch things and make them go my way.

It was strange having some extra metal to protect one's knuckles, but as I understood after the first few swings of my fists, the padding was what made it better. The padding which I had forgotten.

Because I was a genius born of a genius mind.

So it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Finally, we were to give a name to our creations. We weren't obliged to, of course. I had two gauntlets. I looked at them, and then hummed thoughtfully.

"This is Robusta, and this is Arabica," I said in the end, showing first my right and then my left gauntlet to my two friends as we met at our usual watering hole before our extra-curricular activity of earning money. Our watering hole was literally a watering hole; we didn't have the money to order stuff from a bar daily. "And together, they're the Kick-ass Coffee Sisters."

"Great. They still look a bit of a let-down when compared to my Alphonse, but-" Zhelty asked.

I suddenly felt the need for a mile-long stare.

It must have been noticeable because Zhelty actually stopped talking and stared at the direction I was glancing at. Not finding what I was looking for, she turned back towards me.

I, instead, looked at Gorm. "Your weapon's name?" I asked.

"Archimedes," he said.

I gave a simple, solemn nod at Merlin's pet owl.

An Owl Faunus with a weapon called Archimedes.

A petite blonde with a weapon called Alphonse.

I am deeply sorry that I don't have a weapon that starts with A-no, wait, Arabica and Robusta works just as well.

Now, once we found a fourth member whose weapon coincidentally began with A, we'd be set.

But my gaze was far off, towards the horizon, lost in the mists of a past I could seldom grasp with my fingers.

I didn't know what hurt the most...

...the family I lost the first time, or the one I lost the second.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Six

Life has a funny way of giving you lemons. Sometimes it's a nice way. Sometimes it's a bad way. It had been more than a year now since I had been banished to Vacuo. I didn't doubt for one second that Jacques Schnee expected the place to break me. He was wrong. Hardships made me stronger, not weaker. Yet the one thing that hurt the most was to actually receive a letter back from home.

It had taken one year. Circa one year for one meager letter to traverse Vacuo's desert, get into a more civilized area, and then cross into Atlas and into the hands of one Klein Sieben and then have a reply penned and sent back. One year. Six months. I used to think that Italy's postal service was bad, but this one took the cake.

I had actually forgotten all about it. I didn't want to send another after the first one for fear that Klein's sudden popularity might render my "Father" paranoid. And so I had waited. And I had thought that perhaps the letter had gotten lost in the desert. And then I thought that if they were half as smart as I was, they'd write a letter themselves.

So there I stood, with the envelope in my hand. I was in the quiet solitude of my room, and as I fumbled for the corner to tug it open, and then rip it to reveal the letter within, I didn't know what to expect. Perhaps Winter, Weiss and Whitley had all written a paragraph, and maybe mother had written one too?

The message was short.

Do not bother to go against my will. You will fail. Always.

That was all the message was.

I took a deep breath. I crushed the letter with my bare hands.

I walked out. The streets of Vacuo were filled with the desert sands of the latest sandstorm. People moved. I had a target in mind. There was a punching bag that could be used by the students of the preparatory combat school. It was free for everyone who wanted to throw some punches. It was reinforced so it wouldn't just go off the hinges if a huntsman wanted a blow or two at it.

It was my target, my objective. I would throw punches at it until the feelings within my chest bubbled back down to an acceptable level.

There were a few other people in the gym, but none bothered me and I most definitely didn't bother them. My punches connected with the punching bag. The thwack of my knuckles against the hard leather echoed in my ears.

I had no excuses not to train.

I knew what was to come, and perhaps I could stop it all from happening. I could prevent Beacon's fall. I could prevent Pyrrha Nikos' murder. I could do a lot of things that would make life better in the long run. But what could I do alone?

I gave the punching bag a right hook, then a left one. A kick to the side, then another. Footwork was important.

Alone, I couldn't do anything. But how could I convince people? There were some events I could work in my favor, some I could stretch, but others-no. I was going to stop them. I was going to stop them all.

I swung my right fist at the punching bag, only to find a hand grabbing hold of my wrist. I automatically brought my leg in a sweep, and the figure hopped over it before using its other hand on my back to force me down on one knee. It had been an incredibly beautiful move.

"Masochistic-Wren," professor Rassvet mused, "Isn't today a rest day? To get the tired, sore muscles to properly rebuild?"

"Y-Yes professor," I hissed out. "Please have mercy?"

I could hear the man think about it, even while holding me in such a hold. "No, I don't think I will," he said in the end. He let go. "Drive means nothing without knowing how to pace oneself. The one who runs through the desert seeking to reach the fertile lands will die of thirst by the third day. The one who walks may reach it in a month, but he will definitely reach it." He grabbed hold of me by the neck, and I actually just let him drag me away from the gym without much resistance.

Then, he unceremoniously dumped me in the school's courtyard. The sand-filled courtyard. A moment later a shovel and two buckets joined me. "Clean the courtyard of the sand. Once you're done, you can go back home."

With that being said, he returned inside the school. I took a small breath, and then grabbed hold of the buckets. There was enough sand in the courtyard that I doubted I'd ever finish in one day, and even if I did, the next sandstorm would just bring it back.

The sky was a bright blue, but I reckoned a sandstorm could arrive at any moment, and be as unpredictable as pretty much the appearance of Grimm.

So, I got to shoveling. I grumbled under my breath. I could understand the idea of letting a hot-headed youth cool down by doing a menial, and unfulfilling task, but this was like counting the grains of sand on a beach.

I was halfway through when I heard a purr.

I shook my head, and proceeded to leave the once more empty buckets in a corner. I turned, ready to shovel more into them when I heard a clangor, and turned just in time to see the two of them missing.

I furrowed my brows, glanced right, left, and finally looked up. Standing on the wall was a figure. This figure in question was lazily stretched over the wall, purple eyes looking down with a half-lazy, half amused look.

"You wouldn't have seen my buckets now, would you?" I asked.

It was surreal enough that I reckoned that the sun had gotten to my head, and I was hallucinating.

"No," the girl answered. Her violet-furred cat ears twitched. "I have not."

"Strange," I remarked. "You sure you haven't seen them?"

"Sure," the girl said. Her ears twitched. "Are you saying I took them?" she yawned.

"I dunno what you could possibly do with two buckets," I replied nonchalantly.

The cat faunus seemed to contemplate my words for a bit. "Well," she said in the end, "You could...make sand castles with them."

I snickered at that, "As if there wasn't enough sand in this place. Making castles out of it sounds even more annoying."

The girl looked affronted. "Sand castles are the best. Take that back."

I rolled my eyes. "Listen, I have two buckets to find. If you can't help me, I'll go look for someone who can. They'll make me pay them, and I don't have that kind of money."

There was a huff, and then I saw the two buckets reappear. In the sense that they somehow ended up flying down from the other side of the wall. The cat-girl then stood up in precarious balance on the wall's summit, and stretching her arms wide looked at the big pile of sand I had already gathered in one corner.

"Don't you dare," I said.

She thought about it.

She stuck her tongue out.

She threw herself at my pile of sand.

It went everywhere.

The sand went everywhere. It went everywhere-everywhere-every-

"You look broken," the cat girl said next, as I dimly realized one of my eyebrows was twitching spasmodically. I calmly turned my full attention at the girl in question. She was tubby, the clothes she wore were striped, and her cat ears twitched just once before she realized my shovel was attempting to meet her head.

It didn't because she ducked.

"Why are you running?" I asked, teeth grinding. "Why are you running!?"

"I think they're calling me," the faunus said.

"Yes, it's the dead. They want to know why you aren't yet there with them!" I howled before rushing at her. She moved to the side, I spun and swung.

She had the galls to pout while keeping her guard up. "Oh, come on, it was just a prank. And anyway, shoveling sand in Vacuo is stupid!"

I took a deep breath. I calmly placed the shovel down, plunging it on the ground once more covered in sand. I patted my chest. "My name is Wren."

"Uh, well, I'm Chez," the girl said, her guard still up. "Now that we did presentations, we can be friends?"

"I was more thinking about how I needed your name in order to know what to write on your tombstone, but sure, friends work just as well," I grumbled under my breath, raising both hands to the sky in defeat. It was too hot for me to bother.

I was getting used to it, but too much was still too much.

"That's it, I'm done for today," I said. "You were on the wall just because, or you wanted to speak with someone from the school? I think professor Rassvet's around."

"Cool, but I just finished enrolling," she said, coming to a halt by my side. Then, she grinned. "Professor Rassvet said to go to the courtyard and get a certain Masochistic-Wren to show me around the place so...I guess I found you?"

"Forget the masochistic. I am not masochistic," I grumbled.

Chez chuckled delightfully.

I inwardly cursed.

"You've already got a weapon?" I asked, nonchalantly preparing myself for the worst.

"No, I just finished enrolling. I haven't taken any classes yet," she said in reply.

"Oh well," I sighed in relief. "Guess you'll build your own then."

I ended up showing her around. The classrooms, the courtyard, the small forge and the meager library that had a couple of shelves and nothing more.

She looked around quite enthusiastically.

And then, of course, she ended up following me home.

There was this thing about cats adopting people, and not people adopting cats, but Faunus should be above and beyond such a thing.

"We're neighbors," she said with a grin.

"I already regret what I am about to say," I said in return, "But...if you need a hand, or just some sugar or salt, just knock."

And with that said, I closed the door of my room and dropped face first on my dingy bed.

There was a knock five seconds later.

Cat-Girls were definitely not cute. Not cute at all!

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Seven

I looked at Gorm. Gorm looked back. I looked past him. He calmly turned his head to look at where I was looking, realized I wasn't really looking at anything in particular, and quietly turned his head back to stare at me.

"This is Chez," I said, doing presentations. "She's new to Vacuo."

"I understand," Gorm said with a knowing nod. His eyes glanced up and down at her. "How much can she lift?" he asked nonchalantly.

"That is a good question," I pointed out. I looked at her. "How much can you lift?"

Chez bristled and huffed, "You shouldn't ask a lady such things," she said.

"Well, yes, but the job we're going to do requires heavy lifting," I pointed out quite helpfully. "I mean, maybe you'd be better doing something else if you can't lift much."

The faunus girl rolled her eyes, "I can lift enough. I'm not a frail sunflower-dressed girl with a cute white umbrella to cover her from the shade."

My eyebrows both rose, "I have no idea where that came from, and I do not want to find out," I turned towards Gorm.

Gorm helplessly shrugged. "More people, the better. Has she done the introductory course to Vacuo's wildlife and terrains?"

I looked back at her. Chez grinned and gave two thumb-ups. "I'm new to Vacuo the city, not to the desert. I'm from a nomad tribe. I'm going to become a huntress and then go back to protect them," she smiled, and her smile looked unnaturally wide. "What about you?"

"Money," Gorm said as if it was the most natural thing to say.

Good to know he had solid principles in him. I dimly realized Chez was turning her attention towards me. I hummed, chuckled, and then shook my head. "No reason in particular," revenge, "Not really a fan of living in poverty, though," justice, "So all in all...I guess I can go with money like Gorm."

Chez crossed her arms behind her head, "That's a bit boring," she said. "So, did I pass?"

"We're waiting on the last member of our scavenging team," Gorm said, "Zhelty should be here any moment now."

I furrowed my brows. "She should have been here already, no?" I looked around. "Maybe she was held back by her father or-"

There was a rumble, an engine rumble. Both Gorm and I turned. What we saw made us balk. Zhelty was coming along the crowded streets of Vacuo with a motorbike, of all things, with a sidecar and a towed-along two-wheeled cart. "Folks," Zhelty said as she turned off the engine once close enough. "Witness the family's motorbike. I convinced pops to let us use it for our extra work. He'll make us pay the gasoline, and the wear and tear," she grinned. "But he also said we can reach an interesting place not too far from Vacuo," she whispered in a lower voice.

"I am interested," Gorm said, and then he pointed at Chez, "Wren brought in a cat. Should be the opposite, but you know how Wren is. He never conforms."

"I'll have you know I conform to a lot of stuff, I just don't conform to what you think should be the perfect breakfast. Tea before egg yolk, barbarian," I scoffed back, rolling my eyes.

Zhelty looked at Chez, she cocked her head to the side. "How much can she lift?"

"Enough," Chez answered, she was already seated on the sidecar when she spoke. There was a nice grin on her face. "Try me."

"Sure," Zhelty shrugged. "No hard feelings if you don't pull your weight, though."

"Understandable," Chez acquiesced.

Thus, Gorm and I ended up on the towed cart as Zhelty made her way out of the city. "Zhelty, I didn't know you were old enough to drive," I pointed out.

"It's not like you need a license or something," Zhelty retorted, "Just practice till you can drive, and if you get hurt it's on you. If you hurt someone else, it's on you to pay them back, or run away like hell."

"We are not doing hit and runs," I retorted.

"I am not paying for any damaged people that Zhelty runs over," Gorm scoffed.

"You guys are fun," Chez chuckled. I held on to the side of the towed cart, as did Gorm on his side, once we were out in the desert sands. Zhelty gave gas. I felt something stir within me.

I stood on a wooden floor of sorts. We were going up and down, as if in the ocean. Something stirred. It rumbled. It deeply etched itself within my soul. Very calmly, I got on my feet and balanced my arms.

My sea legs were still there.

I was still worthy.

I was still worthy!

"Wren, sit down or you'll go flying," Gorm said.

"Oh, that looks fun!" Chez said, turning her head to look at me, arms stretched, doing some kind of surfer-like motions to stay on balance. "Can I go next?"

And as she said that, she moved nimbly from the side-car to the towed cart, before finding her balance on all fours. Once she had, she slowly got up.

"I am so tempted to just stop the bike right now and watch you two fly in the sands," Zhelty yelled over the noise of the engine, "But anyway, I hope you've got your water flasks and your masks. Because we're going for an abandoned mine. It's mostly empty, but there could be a lot of wiring still in the walls of the nearby buildings we can get."

"Sounds easy," I said.

"Well, yeah. My pops said it was a big scavenging point decades ago, but now it's mostly left to itself. Said it would be good practice for the future," Zhelty yelled as she took a turn on a barely visible road of chipped concrete. The desert had engulfed most of it, but not all.

Broken signs hung from termite-eaten wooden posts.

All that I needed was some silver spray-paint and I'd be set.

"It was one of the biggest Dust mines close to Vacuo, but then the Dust finished and the mine was abandoned. Nothing more than cheap, rusted containers but if we cut enough squares of iron, we can get something out of them-" Zhelty kept speaking, and I momentarily forgot that we were all thirteen years old. Hardships made people adults, even before their ages.

I reckoned it was like in the past. The dim memory of a black and white movie came to my mind, in which an eight year old worked at a gas station, and acted just like any other adult would.

Work made man noble, and hardships made man mature.

Hard work, thus, made us noble and mature.

"What about the Grimm?" Gorm asked.

"Shouldn't be any. The place is abandoned by everyone. Scavengers literally took everything that wasn't bolted down," Zhelty continued. "But the mines should still have some lights and wires, and if nothing else, the support pillars are made of-"

"We are not cutting down the support pillars inside a mine!" Gorm and I yelled at the same time.

"Fine," Zhelty grumbled. "Not like we have the power tools for that anyway. Pops wanted me to pay for them! Can you believe him?"

"Yes," I said as I realized we were just about arrived. "Yes I can."

The bike stopped abruptly with a sharp turn, but I had been expecting it. That was why I ended up jumping at the same time, landing on a large, but cracked, roundabout of concrete. Cracked and broken buildings stood half-drowned in the sand. A large, gaping maw was further ahead and quite visible. It was a strip-mine, and broken chimneys as well as broken-down equipment still littered the ground.

"You all have your weapons?" Gorm asked, hefting his newly evolved Archimedes. It was still a spiked ball with a chain, but this time the chain had long, steel tubes that could lock and unlock. To give it some more maneuverability, in his humble opinion.

I flexed my fingers within my now padded gauntlets.

Zhelty brought up her shield-sword.

Chez...Chez pulled out from her backpack a cute-looking iron teapot with an elongated extremity and bronze-like spikes around it.

I was vindicated in the fact that all three of us looked at it with a mixture of shock and awe.

"This is Alice," Chez said, because of course, it had to start with A. "A cute little grenade launcher, flamethrower and chainsaw. It's a family heirloom."

I opened my mouth. I closed it.

I lifted both hands up to the sky.

It wasn't just physics that had left this world.

Logic, common sense, and everything normal-please return!

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eight

We split into teams of two. For the sake of equality, and also because it would be stupid not to, I ended up with Gorm and Zhelty got Chez. It wasn't because I was scared of the Cat Faunus, and it wasn't because I believed in making it a boy versus girls thing. It was simply because logic dictated it.

They went for a few nice looking containers that held the nearly disappeared SDC symbol on them. They had been left to bleach under the sun, and nobody had actually bothered to cut them down due to the weight, and to the lack of worth.

Still, armed with pick-axes and a good dose of strength, Zhelty and Chez could easily cut some squares off.

Meanwhile, Gorm and I went for the buildings. Sand had covered the floor, and most of the wooden desks were broken, or chipped. Yet the desk legs were made of metal, iron to be precise. It was mostly rusted, but chopping the legs free and forming a neat pile of them was what we did at first.

Then there were old-looking drawers that were for the most part empty, but a few still held wrinkled paper, and though it was covered with blotch marks, we took them. We took them all. "Whoever came before had to be a fool," I muttered in disbelief. "Paper can be recycled-in Vacuo it's worth a fortune."

"Maybe they took stuff worth a lot more and forgot about it," Gorm mused.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, "And maybe we're just the first lucky bastards in decades who came here looking for quick money and thought to look in all the drawers of this place."

I looked at Gorm. Gorm looked back at me.

We grabbed the paper, the iron legs, and walked out in a hurry.

"I'm starting to not like this place," I muttered.

"Gut sense?" Gorm remarked.

"Gut sense," I acquiesced.

"Let's go help the girls," Gorm added once we put the paper within the sidecar, the iron legs instead ending up on the towed cart.

There was a brief moment of relief when we realized that nothing had gone wrong on their end. They were doing their job in silence, denting the sides of the container with the pickaxes and then ripping out chunks that while not evenly cut, were still going to fit on the cart all the same. My paranoia diminished a bit. Perhaps it had truly been like that. Perhaps nothing had happened to those before us, and they had simply not known how much paper would come to cost in the future.

It had to be that. Clearly, it wasn't because there was some kind of assassin-type Grimm lurking in the shadows waiting for us to lower our guards in order to eat us alive.

Clearly.

Happy thoughts, Wren. Think happy thoughts or you're going to be the one to attract the Grimm.

"Let's go look into the other buildings," Gorm muttered after we finished dragging the iron sheets on the cart. "Break a few walls, get some wiring too."

It was agreeable. Since there were small broken lights outside the doors, it was possible that the wiring stood on the outer sections and not just inside. Gorm went in, and I remained outside. By the time the sun was starting to wane, we were all sweaty and tired, but the bike was full.

"Maybe we filled it a bit too much," Gorm said, looking at the precarious balance of everything standing on the cart and at the chain that held it all on the cart. There was also the matter of the sidecar, filled to the brim.

"I think we can call it a training exercise," I said instead. "Zhelty and whoever's more tired can drive on the bike, the other and myself can just hang on for dear life atop the salvage pile."

The seated arrangements thus done, the motorbike spluttered a bit before starting to go at quite the slower pace than before. Still, this made staying on the bike easier. However, the heavy weight made the entire thing rock shakily when it came time to do the turns, and often Zhelty had to literally stop and manually move the bike. It took time. It took time, and the sun started to turn crimson as the night was just about to settle in.

The chill of the desert night hit us with the strength of a battering ram as soon as the last vestiges of light disappeared, and the sand cooled down. We managed to reach Vacuo with little problem though, because when you have two Faunus in your group, seeing at night isn't a problem.

I was glad my sixth sense had been wrong.

Unfortunately, our cut turned out to be just the same as always. Once the costs were tallied in, we earned just as much as usual, but with more effort put into it.

It was dreadful, but it also spoke volumes of what was to come. We had years of this work ahead of us. It was a sobering moment, because it meant that we had no choice but to keep on improving, or end up losing our revenue source. Eventually, there would be times when we wouldn't bring anything back from the abandoned mine, and would have to look elsewhere. We'd need to become professional scavengers, or, even worst, first-pick Scavengers.

The latter was a newly minted term, but it basically meant going in places where the Grimm were still present, and scavenge from them. Since the Grimm were there, they would be pristine and untouched places rife with danger. Yet that was in the future. Way into the future.

For now, we had lessons to undertake.

Like Beginner Survival into Vacuo's Toxic Wastelands.

"Hello rugrats, and welcome to another wonderful adventure in Vacuo's beautiful landscapes," professor Rassvet spoke crisply, a gas mask fitted neatly over his face. We all had one too, though they had probably been used way more times than what the safety requirements would say. We were a few days away from Vacuo, having reached the place on the school's truck.

In front of us was a garbage dump. It was the biggest garbage dump of Vacuo. Flies roamed in swarms. Pools of bubbling filth and toxic acids gushed from stewing organic bags left to rot under the sun. The smell was horrifying. The heat was unbearable because, of course, the lesson was undertaken under the midday sun.

"This here is Vacuo's waste dump. The whole city gets trucks, comes here, and dumps stuff. When there's too much, they dig a bigger hole nearby and proceed to dump more waste in it," Rassvet mentioned. "Now, can you people tell me what kind of Grimm inhabit these dumps? I'll give you three hints. One, they're mean. Two, they want to eat you. Three, they are also incredibly more dangerous than other counterparts found in the desert."

I glanced around. "Hermit Grimm?"

"Masochistic-Wren got one kind right, anyone else?"

"Your mother?" someone piped in, and everyone else didn't even dare to start laughing. The poor boy realized his mistake, but it was too late.

"Jasil, it's four extra laps around Vacuo when we get back," Rassvet dryly mentioned. "Anyone who isn't a joker?"

"Beowolves?" Chez said.

"Good, it's them and, since I don't want to waste my time hanging around the entrance, it's also a form of Grimm called Gheist. The nifty little buggers take whatever they can find around them, and form humanoid-like shapes to fight huntsmen with. They can be incredibly ease to defeat or incredibly difficult. Aim for their faces whenever possible, and remember that if you cut yourself here...well, I hope you've got your vaccinations and tetanus shots done," Rassvet said with a cheeky smirk. "We'll be going to poke one, after all. That way you can see how it works. Maybe if you're lucky you can even get to touch it after it's tired enough-"

I quietly looked at the truck, as if it were the light of salvation in an ocean of despair. "Masochistic-Wren, for your silent attempt at humor, you get to be first in line behind me."

"Professor, but I said nothing-"

"Yeah, well, you should also show nothing. Even with the mask on, I can see you're taking the piss. Come up to the front, and keep your eyes out. Gheists tend to be difficult to find because they're small and nimble," and as I ended up slightly behind him, the overpowering smell from the garbage dump grew even more.

No amount of showering would make me clean as I took the first steps behind the professor into the depths of filth and human waste that surrounded us.

"Professor, I just remembered I'm behind on my vaccinations. Where do I go to get them?" I asked, warily looking around.

"We have a doctor once a week that comes over, Maso-Wren," Rassvet replied. "Ask him for the shots, he'll give them to you."

"Will he be using bird-pellets?" Jasil piped up from the back.

"That's one extra round around Vacuo, Jasil," Rassvet retorted.

Still, the filth and the garbage around us weren't bad.

Not when compared to a Gheist made of broken garbage bags and sewage.

What do you mean professor you want us to touch its mask?

I refuse! I will not touch it, no matter how fluffy its tentacles are!

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Nine

The streets of Vacuo were seldom the place for people protesting. It was too hot to protest most often than not. Yet on some things, protesters were pretty much guaranteed to exist. I mean, finding out you're getting less water because more is needed by the industries is one such thing, or the fact that there had been a waste spillage in Vacuo's poorest sector, which coincidentally was where the Faunus tended to congregate.

Now, it wasn't that the people of Vacuo were racists. In poverty, everyone was equal. In the desire to survival, everyone was welcomed. However the ones giving the job were fancy managers in suits that came from outside Vacuo, and thus they made the salaries, and decided the worth of people. Self-Employment, thus, was the only way to combat it. There was a reason we, four able-bodied teens, weren't working part-time in a shop in the nice corner of town.

For one thing, Gorm had asked me to help him, and I would feel like an incredible ass if I left him for a part-time as a shop clerk. Secondly, Zhelty was doing it for her father's business, and then one day to become a huntress that could see the world. Thirdly, both Chez and Gorm would get bad deals if they started working under some random human.

And so there I was, protesting together with them.

They had asked me if I wanted to come, and I had said yes.

Had I known we were going to end up right in front of Mister Whitey's, the SDCs regional manager, I would have perhaps opted to stay in the background. Still, I had a pair of goggles on my tanned face, my hair was out of place from the neatness it had once held, and my clothes were anything but SDC-approved. I was just another young future-huntsman to be. Clearly, I wasn't Jacques Schnee son, not at all.

Nope. No sir.

"SDC stop poisoning our air! Stop poisoning our water! SDC is poison! Poison!" the people chanted. There were humans, and there were faunus. There wasn't going to be much out of it. The government hadn't even bothered sending the policemen. There were huntsmen send from Shade academy however, and they stood uneasily in front of the mansion's gates. They were being paid to keep the crowd from getting too rowdy, but it was clear they weren't really on the side of the guys paying them.

But money was money, and a job was a job.

"Hey, look what I've got," Gorm said, appearing by my side with a couple of Grimm masks in his hands. "The White Fang's distributing these to the protesters. Put it on, going to make them folks of the SDC scared out of their wits."

I glanced at the mask in question, rolled my eyes, and then grabbed hold of it. "Masked protesters are always up to no good, don't you know that?" I mused. "If you earnestly believe in what you're doing, then show your face with pride." I kept the mask under my armpit. It was still a free mask. With a bit of a paint-job, it could become something useful in case I needed to go Dark-Knight on some people in the middle of the night.

"I don't want to ruin my chances of getting into Shade's academy if something happens," Gorm mused, mask tightly placed on his face.

"I doubt that's going to happen," I retorted, but as my words fell on deaf ears, I merely continued hoisting the sign over my head.

Indeed, nothing happened during the protest. Afterwards, though, that's where things got complicated; we had to plan our next big scavenging hunt, and Zhelty had a brilliant idea about where to go.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Zhelty, who had a map, an actual honest-to-god map, in front of her. Her father's shop had a counter which we could use, and since there were no customers, we were planning our next big thing.

"Sure enough. I was in the shop when this group came in. They cleared a place of Grimm not three days away from here, and brought all sorts of electronics back. The place's fresh, untouched, and could get us a lot," she pointed a finger at a spot on the map. "It's got to be the secondary refinery complex, it's the only one big enough and that was still untouched so close by. Rumors were that a flock of Nevermore nested there, and so nobody wanted to bother. Guess they went, bothered them, and now the place's clear."

"Or maybe it's not, and they just gave a fake place to keep scavengers off," I pointed out.

"It's a possibility," Gorm nodded in turn. "Three days by foot could mean what, three hours by bike?"

Zhelty shook her head. "No, they had a truck with them."

"Three days by car is impossible for us," Gorm said flatly. "It would be six days at a minimum, and there are lessons."

"If we skip a lesson or two, nobody's going to bother us about it," Chez said, "I like the sound of making some quick money and then not having to work for a lot more." The fact she was lazily stretched on the side of the counter told me volumes on just what part of her sentence was the most important.

"We'd also need provisions," Gorm added. "This is too risky."

"So what? We'll just let this chance slip us by?" Zhelty stressed. "Think about what we'd be losing if we don't take this chance."

"And think about what we'd lose, if we did and it turned out to be a bad call," I mused. "Look," I said, raising both hands to silence the rebuttals. "We don't have the finances to do this. We have to walk before running. We can hit the abandoned mine again, maybe there may still be some Dust down there-"

"We could take a loan," Zhelty said. "There are people that-"

"No," my no was echoed by Gorm with such incredible speed that it was actually an unison of refusal. It was the No that shattered the mountains, and told Death to come later. Mine came with the strength of my Italian blood boiling at the mere mention of taking on debt, and his came from the knowledge of just what kind of skeevy people would actually accept loaning money to teenagers.

"I didn't take you two for cowards," Zhelty snapped angrily. "Well, I was kind enough to offer you a cut, but I'm going anyway. If you change your mind about being scaredy-birds and chickens, you know where I live. I'll probably go next week, so you've got time to change your mind."

"I understand," I said with a nod. "I don't think I will change my mind, but you should start to think about a long-range addition to your weapon then. If there are still Nevermores, you may need it."

Zhelty winced at that. "Are you saying that as a pipsqueak, I'd be no better than a worm about to be eaten!?"

"I did not say that," I glanced at Gorm. "Did I say that?"

"You did not say that," Gorm answered.

"He didn't say that," Chez added too, "But I think we can do this," she said. "It's just a trip in the desert if things go wrong, and I'm used to them anyway," she said.

"A six day trip with a motorbike that may or may not last the whole trip," Gorm said. He shook his head. "No, the risks are too great. If we had a truck, or a car, or something sturdier-"

"If we had, if we had, always with the ifs," Zhelty scoffed. "We can't keep on playing it safe. We need to take a risk, or a gambit, sometimes."

"And what if they cost us an arm or a leg?" I mused. "What if they cost us our lives?" I jabbed a finger on the map. "Listen, Zhelty, this is above all of us. It's not a matter of being a headstrong pipsqueak dwarf that can't possibly understand how cool the weather is up here," I stressed out, dimly realizing that Gorm and Chez both had their mouths open in shock at the size of my steel balls, "But there's no conceivable way we can do this. Not us alone at least."

"Did you-Did you just call me-" Zhelty stammered out, but her stammer was out of pure rage, rather than anything else.

"I called you an adorable little bundle of Lilliput-sized determination and pixie-fairy sized, pint-sized, half-a-woman moron of the smallest order possible in the picometer scale, yes," I said with a firm nod. "And I will keep on saying that for as long as it takes to drive home into your miniaturized, clearly half-lobotomized brain just how fucking stupid your idea is, and how I will potentially break your legs and arms myself to keep you from doing that, and I guarantee you, Zhelty, I will do so."

I narrowed my eyes. "So, now, adorable garden gnome that hasn't been watered enough to grow to a decent size, will you see reason, or will I need to bring my fist to your head and shrink you a few more centimeters back down to earth?"

"W-Why are you being so mean!?" Zhelty cried out.

"Why are you being so stupid!?" I retorted.

"Why are you all yelling?" Gorm asked.

"Why isn't there a good tree to sleep under in Vacuo?" Chez asked, concluding the list of rhetorical questions.

The next moment, my fist met that of Zhelty as both Gorm and Chez jumped back. The barrage of fists that followed should have had its own 'Hora-Hora' soundtrack, but unfortunately it didn't. We were unarmed, so our knuckles began to chafe soon enough. I could feel my bones creak. I took half a step back.

She lunged forward, but while she was short, and thus out of range, I was not.

I landed a square blow straight into the side of her face, and sent her to roll on the ground.

"As long as there will be stupid inside your head, my fist shall come to clear it out," I said calmly. "Do you understand that, Zhelty?"

"Shut up," Zhelty muttered, "Just get out."

I sighed, and rolled my eyes. I winced at the pain flaring up my knuckles. "Just so you know, it's because I care about you. Otherwise, I'd let you go to your death without a problem. See you at school."

Having said that, I walked out of her shop without missing a beat. The hissing from my mouth at the creaking of my knuckles made me think that I had something broken.

At the same time, I had an appointment with the doctor for my vaccinations.

Vaccines and broken bones.

Truly, mine was a life of bliss and happiness.