KaliQuest (Project Moon/RWBY)

Stalwart Stand 8.3
You're a little concerned about turning around without giving the game away. You don't actually know how far behind you the person behind you is, invisibly. They likely just stepped on a trash bag, but there's a couple in this alley.

Then a thought strikes you, one that seems like it could be pretty funny. You grin, back still turned to the alleyway entrance.

You haven't done much smoking since you got here on Remnant. Haven't even bought any new packs of cigs, since the one pack you had in your pockets has remained untouched all this time. Ever since you realized your whole 'dying' problem, you've steadfastly stayed away from them. They're bad for you, after all, and you can do without a light's warming comfort for a time.

Now, though…

You, still feigning looking at your Scroll, fish around for that first same pack, still brand new to the point where the faux-plastic seal hasn't been broken. Cracking it open with one hand, you fish out a cigarette, watching the primitive Singularity contained within light the thing for you as you bring it to your lips, take a deep breath.

That's the stuff.

Turning around, you glance around the alleyway, make a guess about where your invisible stalker might be hanging out. You put your Scroll away, part your cigarette from your mouth, and exhale. Gratuitously. Smoke billows out in a cloud, and you watch it part around the human silhouette in front of you.

Gotcha.

They're only visible for a moment, but you're quick. You make out that they're large, a little taller than you. Wide around the shoulders, but not the waist. The rest is concealed by whatever they're using to remain invisible to the eye. And to their credit, they don't make a sound, don't react in the slightest. No choking, coughing, or nothing. Must be under the assumption you still haven't noticed 'em yet and trying not to blow their cover.

To your credit, you haven't let on that you have.

Fuck it, if they're not gonna reveal themselves so conveniently, enable some discussion or whatnot, you'll take manners into your own hands. And you'll even be courteous about it. You've still got your pack of smokes out, so you pull out another one, careful not to accidentally light it in advance. Then, you call out:

"Hey. You've been here awhile. Want a smoke?"

Your invisible friend shifts. You hear the slightest whoosh, watch a trash bag behind them be brushed aside as they take a step back. And you smile. Always funny to catch someone who thinks they're—

"Uhh… thanks? But—"

The speaker is coming from behind you. You whip around, hand already halfway to your borrowed sword.

Just behind a dumpster, a man leans out, with dirty blond hair and dark blue eyes, coarse stubble coating his chin. His face is shadowed by a weathered yellow raincoat that has clearly seen better days. His voice is drowsy, as if he just woke up. And it's hesitant, questioning, like he's not quite sure he's the one being addressed here.

And, to be fair, he wasn't. So he can read a room. You relax, fractionally. It's simply someone that happened to be in the alleyway. Not an ambush or a surprise attack. Your fault for not noticing him, behind that dumpster. Homeless, maybe? Wouldn't last long in the City, out on a random street, but this is Remnant.

"But I don't smoke? Never got into it, so…" he finishes, voice losing confidence with every word. You give him your best comforting look.

"What's your name? What're you doing here?" you ask casually, turning slightly so the alley's mouth is in sight again. And, by extension, the invisible person you're pretty sure is still there.

"Brett Sands, ma'am," he replies, blinking at you like he's still not quite sure you're there. "And, uh… I live here. You here to pick me up for loitering? Huntress?"

"Eh," you say, returning to your original objective, "yes on the Huntress thing. Not gonna arrest you or anything, though, I'm not Zwei. Good to meetcha. I'm Kali.

You smile. "Though, I have to admit. Wasn't talking to you, exactly."

Your line of sight is directed straight at Brett. But your attention, your focus, is towards the alley's mouth. And with a whoosh of displaced air, a sharp intake of breath, and the scuff of a shoe on the ground… it lets you know that your stalker has finally, finally, lost their nerve. They're running.

Away from you, turns out. Can't have that.

They've made enough sound for you to pinpoint them at this point. In a fraction of a second, your palm catches the back of their head like a basketball, bashing them face first into the alley's wall. The thin metal craters easily on contact—even more easily than usual, for you—and their invisibility device, revealed to be a full-body suit of some sort, immediately goes on the fritz, flashing between glitching a rainbow of colors and the background it's meant to be matching. Their silhouette is much clearer now: unmistakably male, muscled. The pained grunt is deep as well.

He jerks an elbow back, kicks towards your legs. You respond in kind, slamming his head into the wall again and drawing your sword, blocking both of his attempted strikes with casual taps that stop him in his tracks. Compared to you, he's simply slow. Weak.

There's still some fight in him yet, but the head smashings are clearly getting to him, even through Aura, however that works. A desperate backwards haymaker, this time, which you don't even have to dodge; it misses on its own. You consider giving him a third concussion, but decide against it: you need this guy intelligent enough for interrogation, once he stops struggling. Plus, you don't think this spot of wall will hold up much longer.

Instead, you hoist him up by the neck and hurl him deeper into the alleyway. Unfortunately, you do fuck it up a little: you get the angle of the throw wrong. He lands on the ground facefirst, plowing up the paved bricks as the force carries him forward. Brett watches all the while, frantically digging through his raincoat with one hand.

You tromp over to the downed ex-invisible person as he struggles to rise, planting a foot on his back.

"Should've accepted the cig," you quip. A miserable groan is your response.

The invisibility device stops glitching out and gives up the ghost, zeroing the guy's clothes out into a mildly reflective gray, now looking like a silly hooded onesie. You decide you want a look at this fellow's face, so you pull at the hood until the seams give way with a light showering of sparks, then lean over, giving the both of you good looks at each other's faces.

The well-battered man on the ground has what you will generously describe as the face of a thug. Clean-shaven boxy jaw, small dull-red eyes, and enough misaligned snarling teeth to judge he's been through his fair share of fights. Probably on the losing end of most of 'em, despite his build. If what you've seen so far is any indication, he's simply not got the instinct for combat.

His most distinctive feature is the tattoo literally spider-webbing across his neck. A spider's design sits flat in the middle of the thing. Brett, who's still sitting in his same spot, gasps upon seeing it. Recognition.

"You know who this is, Brett?" you ask, not taking your eyes off the dazed man.

It takes him a second. "That's, uh, Spider! He's a member of Spider… Oh gods above…"

"Spider… a Syndicate?" you guess.

"They control everything in Mistral… fingers in every pie, a fish in every net, and a hand in every money pouch! And they hear everything! I am so unbelievably screwed… gods, I knew I should've chosen a different alleyway…"

As Brett breaks down into muttering and hysterics, Spider-man makes his best attempt at a menacing grin from his position underfoot. "Man's right. Better let me go, Kali. Else Lil' Miss won't be happy with you. And there's no fighting Spider. Kill me… you'll never see the end of us. And you'll never see us coming."

You think you've got a picture of what's going on here. "Take it I've been cutting into your margins, huh. Those were your thugs, earlier."

"Yeah! Yeah! If you let go of me… maybe I'll tell Lil' Miss you're not a problem. She'll buy that!"

Spider… as far as Syndicate names go, it's not the most intimidating. But neither are the Fingers, and they're certainly not to be trifled with, even for you. You could cut down Index cultists for weeks on end, and there'd still be more waiting to fill their spots. And it's always been more trouble to fight the Middle than it's worth, not that it's stopped you. If this 'Spider' is even a tenth their size, this could be trouble. And even you can't be on your guard twenty four hours a day. Especially with your whole healing problem.

Make no mistake: you hate Syndicates with all your heart. But even the Red Mist has to pick her battles. Could you take on Spider and win? You're betting the answer is yes. Is it a good idea?

…Well. You don't have to decide right now. Right now, all you've got to figure out is what to do right here and now.

The man beneath you, you can tell. He's begging for his own life and trying to sound intimidating while doing so. He'd say anything to get you to back off and let him live another day. But at the same time, you wouldn't be surprised if he spoke a grain of truth or two. Question is, is he low-enough on the Syndicate totem pole that no one would care about his disappearance.

…Judging by the quality of his invisibility device… and Brett's panicked reaction. You doubt it.


[ ] Kill the man. Dead men tell no tales. And sneaky bastards tend to be the most problematic.

[ ] Let him run. You don't have to pick this fight. You're pretty sure you've put the fear of 'you' into him.

[ ] Get him to take you to "Lil' Miss". You'll cut this off at the head.

[ ] Write-in.

---

A/N: That was such a funny idea. I wanted to make Spider-man take like a bazillion damage from being smoked. The mental image was just hilarious to me. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure the Smoke Status Efffect is, like, legitimately special, so... yeah.

Times like these, I almost want to include a 'canon RWBY character counter', like Naron's A Rat's Guide to Glory. It'd be funny, at least. We'd be at, what, seven by now?

Sorry about how much time this chapter took! I got distracted with programming… uh, well, see for yourself.


Suffice to say that's taken a fair bit of time.