Phoneme 1: The day I got rewarded for murder

I always hated situations like this. To me it felt like trouble wanted to be around me, although it has never been worse before. Trust me, almost nothing is more annoying than being the chief suspect in a crime you didn't commit. But that's life, I guess: my father dead, I was falsely accused of murder and the true culprit was running around freely. The past two days I spent in custody and spoke to a lot of lawyers and investigators like many times before, so as this elderly woman came in I thought she'd be another lawyer. Then I noticed her sound. Her body moved way more confident than a lawyer's and I heard her posture being more... powerful as if she was someone who's giving orders, not taking them. And yes, I heard this. Maybe I should introduce myself first: my name's Giannini Pipistrello, 19 years old, I was told that I've dark hair and I like all kinds of mechanisms. Plus, I'm blind. Funnily I didn't know this for the first years of my life because my sense of hearing is special. Thanks to it my brain can create an image of my surroundings using the least bit of echo available, so technically I see with my ears. I found out as someone tried to explain the concept of light and colours to me. And no, I'm not a faunus. So, let's get back to the story.

The woman sat down an the vacant chair in the interrogation room and began to talk. "Hello Giannini, my name is Mrs. Albus, I'm from IKARUS." Her voice was soft but cold as ice. Yep, she was definitely in charge. I considered explaining my situation to her but she had something like a folder with her, probably this Mrs. Albus already had all the information. So I decided to test my luck by being defiant.
"Never heard of it. Another law office? Let me guess, you are the best of the best and you'll try to keep my penalty as low as possible?" To my surprise, the woman smiled. Not a lawyer, then. They hated it when I made fun of them and I have bugged a lot.
"Almost", the woman answered, "we are an intelligence service and we want to recruit you." That was different than what I expected. I was prepared for another way too long interrogation but I didn't see this coming.
"How comes? Was the Vale police stupid enough to send the wrong form? Cause all they tell me is I'm guilty of something I didn't do." Maybe it wasn't the most clever thing to insult the police but I was angry and maybe I thought this was a hoax because I've never heard of this IKARUS before.
"I know you're innocent. You'd never kill your father with just a knife. You're a gearhead, according to your neighbourhood. By your hand the method would have been more interesting." Ok, the woman was weird. "Here's the contract, Giannini, read it and you'll find all the information you need to accept or decline." I just began to laugh. I took off my round sunglasses to let her see my dull eyes and smirked at her.
"You are probably the worst intelligence service ever. Investigating my hobby but not finding out I'm blind. Seriously, you guys need to do your homework more carefully." You should have seen her face. I can't describe it but it looked confused in a dumb way. This is the fun part about insulting someone in a way they don't expect. Throw a custard pie and the receiver will get angry or will laugh wearily. Throw a cheese wheel and the audience will be completely flummoxed. The cheese would be wasted, though.
"Well, sorry, my men didn't tell me that. It basically says that a partner of me grants you board and lodge as long as you work for him as a mechanic." I put on my glasses.
"Are there any other options?"
"You could as well go to prison for murder."
"I guess that's a no, you're basically blackmailing me. But I have one condition: I want you to find the murderer of my father." She nodded and took back the sheet of paper, leaving the room without a word.

I always hated aircrafts. Don't get me wrong, I hold no grudge against flying, it's the people that get on my nerve. Whenever anyone talked about the great view I thought 'thanks a lot, all I can hear is the interior. Pretty clearly, thanks to your prattle.' The people mostly didn't care about me. Some wondered whether I'm 'already to old to be here' but that was all and I couldn't care less about them. Wherever I was heading, I'd have a workshop there and now and then a job from the intelligence service would have to be handled. When I was young I always wanted to be a clock maker. Nowadays I think bigger. Weapons, armoured suits, all kinds of mechanical stuff. As long as it has cogs and gears, I'm in. Accidentally I heard my destination and sat there incredulous. The old lady's partner was Ozpin?! Well, at least I'd have lots of stuff to fix at Beacon.

As I left the aircraft I followed the crowd. In wide spaces not familiar to me I'm pretty screwed. I reached the building and suddenly I had a better field of perception. One of the biggest problems about being blind is being unable to read. I payed little attention to my surroundings while I pondered how to find the headmaster's office, so I eventually bumped into someone. "Sorry, didn't see you", she apologised immediately.
"I should say that!" It was a girl, small, braided hair. That was my chance. "Sorry, I'm a little bit lost. Could you tell me how to get to the headmaster's office?" There was no use trying to find it alone, so this was the only reasonable thing to do.
"Why do you ask?", she replied, "you can easily follow the signposts." Right, most people didn't recognise me as someone unable to see.
"Nope", was my answer, "they're not written in braille. I really need help." She blushed instantly, I could feel it.
"Sorry, I... of course I can help you with reading them. I'm new here too." This girl was a lifesaver. If it wasn't for her I would've never found the right floor. As I entered, there was a man and a woman. You now, I like Ozpin's office. It has style. The floor sounded smooth but beneath I heard the clicking and rattling of a clockwork.
"Hello young man, how can I help you?", the man asked from behind his desk. My attention went from the room to the headmaster.
"I'm Giannini Pipistrello, I was hired to work as a mechanic." The woman frowned, pretty clearly for my ears. If a frown could be loud, hers would be definitely.
"But I waited for you at the aircraft", she stated, "I even had a sign with your name on it!" Why can't they inform each other properly? This was getting a nuisance...
"I'm blind, for Monty's sake! But let me guess, they didn't tell you?" The old man just nodded. Maybe he was ashamed but I always had a hard time hearing emotions. He took a sip from his mug and I wondered where he'd refill it. There was no coffee-machine around. At least not in the open. He started to talk again.
"As you can see..."
"Haha, fat chance." Was he doing this on purpose?
"...this is Beacon Academy. Do you have any idea how much stuff gets broken here?" Obviously, I didn't. Why should I? But the very sound of this room told me I wanted to be here. And I heard stories about the weapons of huntsmen... I always wanted to dismantle one and put it back together. "...and prepared a workshop for you." Wait since when was he talking again? I wasn't paying attention and his sigh told me he noticed. "I'll tell you again on the way to it. But first, here's your ID, you better keep an eye on it." Yep, he was definitely doing this on purpose.

Guys, I'll tell you something about being blind. As a blind person few things are more annoying than art, for example art class. Or people speaking about art. Especially those who say you'd miss something because you can't see the colours on a rectangular piece of fabric. I have no problem with not seeing them but I have a problem when someone tries to make fun of me. Keep that in mind, it may come in handy later.

The workshop I got was awesome. From the yard a small set of stairs led down to it and next to the door was a sign reading -according to Ozpin- 'Composing, Reconstruction and Repairs'. Inside was a big workbench, shelves with tools, scrap metal and dust samples for crafting. At one end of the room was a door to a small bunk and I could constantly see for the ventilation hummed. "When I get this for being accused of murder", I whistled looking around, "what do I get for being accused of a massacre?" Sadly, Ozpin understands irony and answered according to it... "A smaller room with less resources, I guess. So I recommend not to try." With a smile he left and I was alone in my new private workshop, awaiting the first customer.


A/N: This was the first chapter of Nico's story about the mechanic Pipistrello. I hope you liked it!