*Edited again as of 2/5/19. New little bits of info that help tie the chapter better with the direction I've taken it so far and a bit more depth at certain points to get it up to par with my newest chapters. Hopefully I didn't miss anything THIS time. Working my way through the chapters little by little*
This is something that I suppose I've had on my mind for a substantial amount of time now. I made my account after I wrote this, so I guess I must be eager to share it with all of you.
Never mind that for now, creativity will just follow with this godlike plunge of confidence I'm about to try. My name, I suppose as the 'author', will be Shore, as good a moniker as any. This shit's gonna take a lot for me to go through with, so I'd expect just enough content to be entertaining. Not too much though, you bunch of beautiful heathens you!
I guess you could say I'm new to the game… so cheers muh bois and gorls! Wish me luck the best you can!
Anyway, this is an idea for RWBY that has kept me locked in my head for about two months or whatever, so I hope all of you enjoy what I put on your plate. Enough of this shit though.
Let's get into this bitch, yea? Yea!
Chapter 1 µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµDrowning µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
Well, fuck.
Probably not the first thought that should be popping into my mind right now, but as far as I'm concerned you can't really blame me. That simple ass, two-word phrase pretty much sums up the whole of my emotions. Cut and dry, just like that.
Guess I might have to explain. I can do that, so just keep your goddamn pants on, geez.
To put it simple, if a bit blunt, I just got rimmed super fucking hard by… reality? The gods and goddesses representing normalcy? Fuck, for all I know it could have been the one true god Ryan Reynolds that caused this existential shit storm to fall smack-dab into my lap. Must be fuck Tyler day.
Even so, as I continue to fall, feeling what I'm guessing is and am only willing to refer to as 'cosmic particle wind' rushing past my face, I can't really be mad, sad, or anything else along those lines. Breathing in heaps of the cosmological dandruff through a deep sigh, I can only feel a slight handful of things, which slightly worries me.
Slightly.
I feel confused, obviously. But for some reason I can't help but also feel excitement. Anticipation, even. I'm sure you can figure out how utterly fucked that is in a moment, I have faith in you. For now I should probably tell you why the fact that I only feel these three things is kinda troubling. First off, we should address the well-known fact that they are all emotions. Nothing about them is specifically physical in nature. Are you starting to get a picture of where I'm going with this? This path I'm paving actually ends in a pretty major place.
For some, now that I'm thinking about it, absolutely holy reason, I can't feel the fact that my left leg is more or less a broken, bloody, disgusting excuse for a meat sock. Think of a bendy straw, the kind that come in packs and replace that with my femur and shin bones. Not exactly a pretty depiction… I of all people should know. I mean fuck, if I look close enough I can even see a little white between the ripped pants and blood soaked flesh.
Alright! That's enough staring at my own 'minced meat' for at least another 30 doors. I'm pretty fucking sure I'm gonna blow chunks if I keep looking. Not good. I'm also pretty sure not being able to feel my injuries won't stop me from tasting the acidic torture that is known as stomach acid. There's something else I can't feel, either.
Oh yeah, it might be the seven goddamn bullet wounds just haphazardly spread on my torso like sprinkles on a cupcake. Yeah, that might be what I was forgetting. That also may be what started this whole 'bizarre adventure' of mine, if you wanna call it that, in the first place.
I suppose I'll have to cut back to what set off this chain of fuck shit in the first place. How long has it been…? My watch oddly enough stopped working something like 13 hours into my fall through this psychedelic teal, purple, pink and orange hell hole and I lost count ever since. Enough of my current plight though, why don't we have a look at my previous one, shan't we boys and girls? Side note, I feel like a grandpa saying that made up word. It's just got that kinda feel, ya know?
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Flashback µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
It's hard to open my eyes. Well, more like it's hard to want to, but it's all the same in the end, right? Of course I'm right.
I shouldn't even bother asking if a fact is correct. Especially when I'd be asking myself.
What makes it so much harder to open my eyes, I hear myself ask? Well, the fact that I'm only two days away from my loooong anticipated vacation, baby! It's been literal years since I planned this thing, and I find myself prematurely slipping into a careless attitude seemingly more potent than my name-brand carefree persona that most people seem envious of. However, as I lay in bed wishing for more sleep, I realize once more that if I want to have more fun with my beloved beach-chan and ocean-chan, I need to go to work and make nice with my coworkers and customers.
Damn bastards.
With that in mind I practically catapult myself out of bed directly into a stumbled rush towards the bathroom shower with all the fervor of a mangy beast lunging after fresh meat.
Only to immediately stub the shit out of my toe. As the loud thumping sound launches itself through the area, I really only have one thing to say.
"Shit, fuck! Get outta the way you cunt!" I dominantly and not at all angrily yell at my nightstand as I rush past, yelling for the sake of my small toe which had been mercilessly slain by the dastardly piece of furniture, not waiting to notice the tears stream from its non-existant eyes at the profuse verbal abuse.
I had no time to waste and no patience as I jumped in the shower, stripping with all the speed of Freddy Mercury on stage at a live performance and none of the pronounced air humping. It was with this same urgency and speedy nature that I tore ass through my morning rituals, only stopping briefly to turtle up around my laptop and a quick breakfast of cereal for around thirty minutes.
'I don't know if I can wait two whole days to be free for the beach! I'm getting antsy just thinking about it… learning to surf is gonna be so fucking cool! Not to mention to be able to ride the waves with dolphins, even sharks, that's just… that's just so damn sick.' Sparing myself from my thoughts, I drift my gaze to my watch. It reads 9:30, much to my shock.
"SHIT! I need to get the fuck outta here!" Is what I attempted to exclaim, but somewhere in the process of gulping down milk and Rice Krispies it was roughly garbled into something like follows.
"FHIT! I ned to gfeftv da vuck outfhre!" This being punctuated with assorted crunching and gulping sounds was, needless to say, disgusting even to my own ears.
Ignoring how gross the sound of myself stuffing down breakfast was, I quickly shove the bowl and spoon into the formerly empty sink with a clink and rush out the door, taking care to lock the deadbolt on my way. Rushing to my sedan I can only really think one thing.
'When was the last time I washed this thing?' My car, which I lovingly named Ilene, is fuckin' covered in pollen and as loathe I am to admit it, bird shit. Shit… literally… must finally be Spring, huh? Allergies ahoy to all of you lesser beings, for I am immune! With a silent vow to clean her, and soon, I hop in cut the engine on and speed my way to work. Instead of watching the road like any good driver would, I keep myself busy by singing along with the radio to whatever random songs that come on the station when I know my voice can't do half the shit most of theirs can. Even so I continue, garnering looks from those unfortunate enough to also have their windows open this morning. The entire time I can only try my best to keep buried the secret wish of mine that other drivers join my session.
…
You ever just regret having thought something?
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Time Skip µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
After around 40 minutes of driving through crowded, cramped streets I arrive at my work place with time to spare, more than enough time to cover the walk from the employee parking lot to the actual site itself. In the back of my mind, I can already feel my personality working it's magic. I guess it's worth noting that I seem to have a certain…. skill, let's call it. This 'skill' allows me to endear myself to almost anyone. While thinking about the idea of my peculiar personality trait, I can't help but also dredge up the specifics of it, as I usually do.
'Skill is just what I categorize it as, I'm not actually sure what the fuck it actually is. Maybe I'm just cute or something…?' I stop for only a second, caught off guard by that thought and subsequent possibility. And after only that one second, I come to my answer. 'Nah! That's stupid, I'd have to be uber self-absorbed to think some shit like that. But if that's not it, then there isn't any explanation as to why it even exists.' Through extensive testing on this... thing… I found out that for some reason it's like super affective with moms, moderate with most older people, veterans, and works pretty effectively with chicks my age!
'It just doesn't make any sense why I'd have this… this… charisma multiplier! God, I can't believe I just thought that. What am I, a mega-dweeb!? Fuck ma-'
While thoughts of my… 'ability' dominated my mind, I managed to not only walk the rest of the way to my work place, but also manage to walk into one of my most awesome coworkers.
More along the lines of family, if I'm honest. Hell, he even got me my job here… not to mention taught me pretty much everything I know.
"Oof- Fuck Tyler, are you in a rush to get somewhere kid? I saw you clock in son, so what the hell are you doing moving so fast?" These were the words coming out of a grizzly bearded man's mouth. Many might have called the older 6"3' man intimidating, what with a somewhat bulky build, dark short cropped hair, greying lumberjack beard, chilly blue eyes and 'sunny disposition'. To others, that is, he might have actually been exactly that. He even had a reputation of customers never trying to pull shit with him at the register for pretty obvious reasons. To me however, he was just good Old Man Joe. Without wasting a second, I greet him like usual.
"Jesus Joe, I thought you were too fuckin' old to move that silently! Nearly scared me shitless." I halfheartedly complain to him, already knowing what he was going to say.
"Son, I haven't moved silently since the 90's, you just got too much damn shit in yer ears to hear me comin'! I'm old damn it, you need to get yer thumb outta yer ass and quit running into me every day." He practically radiates tiredness through the lines on his forehead and his eyes alone, but that's just how Joe looks.
Nearly a full minute passed with nothing but muffled silence and icy eye contact before all hell broke loose. By hell I actually mean loud, rough guffaws coming from the old man himself, coupled with peals of somewhat gritty boyish laughter from yours truly. This Joe guy happens to be one of my closest people, despite age difference, and we have just sealed our morning ritual of standoffish humor. After the chortles died down and mirthful tears had been wiped, I decide to begin the start of the actual work day with a question to the old fucker.
"So Joe, whaddya know? Seriously, what's the schedule looking like for today?" I ask after our short episode of camaraderie.
"I know a hell of a lot young 'un, but today is no different than the rest. Talk shop, work magic, do what the boss says, sell gas and cigs, the usual." He responded followed with an out of place sigh. He even takes the time to bring up one of his massive bear hands to scratch at the back of his head. That, over the time that I've known him, I've learned means he's got something on his mind.
"What was that at the end there Joey-boy? Sighing doesn't help time fly ya know…" I say with a fairly measured amount of air-headedness. For comedic purpose, obviously.
"It's nothing Tyler, just a wierd thought. Forget it son." He tried dismissively. Unluckily for him, I'm not so easy to let something go.
"Really? I thought you knew better than to try that 'it's nothing' shit with me. I'm smarter than my tan and long hair would make you think and you fuckin' know it Joe. Tell me what's wrong man, you know I'll help you out if I can." I admonish him, but only slightly, just so the old man won't get his damn panties in a twist. Smart, right?
On second thought, you don't have to answer.
Hanging his head slightly with slumped shoulders and acting with a demeanor that just didn't fit the giant of a man before me, forehead wrinkled in thought, he responded to me.
"I know, I know kid. Just shut up already and listen… Yer' vacation starts in a couple days right? How long are you supposed to be gone for?"
I was actually kinda surprised that Joe remembered. Despite me knowing this guy since I was a kid, there honestly isn't too much that bothers this old goliath and with the way he's acting about the topic at hand it means my absence might. Now that should flatter even the coolest of beans.
"Uh, yeah I should be gone about two and a half weeks, why man what's up?" I respond, slightly nervous if only for the fact that I'm pretty sure I know what he's gonna do ne-
Aaand almost exactly what I was afraid of happened. This giant of a man jerked his head up with the force of a damn gun shot, jostling his thick brown and grey streaked beard, piercing me with his watery blue eyes. Almost comical if it wasn't so unsettling, but honestly it still got a bit of a stifled snort out of me.
"WHO AM I GONNA TALK TO WHILE YER' GONE!? Yer' just about the only person I have an actual conversation with 'round here! Hell, yer' the only one smart enough to keep up with me!" Joe bellowed in horror at me.
"Calm down Joe I'm sure it won't be that ba-" I stopped mid-sentence due to the old fuck furrowing his eyebrows at me and gesturing around us wildly with his hand, also wearing a look that just screamed 'Oh really? Bet you're wrong bitch'. With a sigh I decide to follow his suggestion only to find, who else, but our 'colleagues'. First up a two count for near brain dead chemical huffers, Brian and Willy, drooling slightly on the tables they were seated at. A three count of socially inept girls glued to their phones, Ashley, Rebecca, and Jerrica, none of the three looking up from the little magical box in their hands containing twitter. Finally, my eyes landed on Lee, a guy so nervous that I've never seen him not shaking like a man possessed. Poor guy never takes his eyes off others out of sheer paranoia and is never seen without a cup of coffee nearby.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Okay so maybe it's slim pickins', bu-" I tried only to be rightfully interrupted.
"BUT NOTHING! You know just as well as I do that we're the only people here even capable of havin' a conversation that doesn't suuuuuckkkk kid!" Joe proceeded to whisper yell at me, likely trying to hide the fact that he's whining to a man less than half his age. Pretty smart move on his part, actually.
"... yea you have a pretty good point." I conceded, at a loss for a rebuttal. With the amount of vegetation that seems to work here, Joe's gonna have a bit of a rough go without me.
"I know I do! Now how am I gonna survive this?" The old man whined to his much younger counter part. Thinking hard for only a moment I came up with a solution to both solve the problem and succeed in making me laugh once more. The perfect balance, really.
"DUDE! I know this one! Are you ready?" I taunted, shit eating grin displayed proudly on my face.
His eyes and somewhat tense body language screamed at me to spit it out already. Being the kind soul that I am, I happily oblige.
"Why don't you use your vacation days too, you frugal old shit." I finish with complete sincerity and an intensely serious face.
"NOW'S NO TIME FOR JOKES YOU LITTLE- wait what? Vacation days?" Joe questioned, with now rapidly brightening eyes. And with a mere suggestion it seems I've set his gears in motion. I suppose I only need one more push to help him solve his dilemma.
"Yes, vacation days. Use 'em." I insisted. With that a look of thought crossed his face, I was only mildly surprised that I even got him to think about it. He's usually a lot more stubborn about suggestions in general, so seeing a break to that trend is a bit refreshing, to be honest.
"Actually, that sounds like it ain't a half-bad idea. You might actually be just a bit smart! Y'know, a bit." He concluded with a smirk that, if one squinted and tilted their head, could be called a smile.
"And you might be slightly less of an idiot than I thought you were. You know, slightly." I responded in kind with a matching smirk of my own, fully committed to playing the part of Old Man Joe's apprentice.
Joe's smirk only widened at my words.
"Shut up kid. I'll go talk with the boss about cashing in my days. As for you, it's almost time to get to the station, so I'd get my game face on if I were you son." My long-time friend said with steely determination, already turning from me on a new quest.
"Shut up old man, get to the boss already. You of all people should know by now, this is my game face." I finished the conversation still with a smile on my face, one that was threatening to breech the edges of my face. As I watched Joe walk off on his mission for vacay days, I prepared for another day of work, blissfully unaware that this would be the last one I'd ever experience.
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Time Skip µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
'Man, this day felt like it took fucking forever. Guess I can't complain, after all the majority of my job is talking to people. That's something I know I'm good at.' I think to myself somewhat smugly, my face no doubt displaying that exact emotion as I walk out the front door of my place of business wearing the same khaki slacks, white undershirt, dark blue polo and skater sneakers I wear every day to work. And my black bandanna. Can't forget about that part, that one follows me practically every where even if I'm not wearing it.
The next thing I know, however, a large hand slaps my shoulder from behind accompanied by a loud growling laugh. A very familiar laugh at that.
"Let's see... I've got two guesses at who you are, stranger." I give a pause, only so that it seems like I took time to think about my answer. "So, why do you like cookies so much Santa?"
This was quickly followed by a light smack against the back of my head and a bright grin sprouting on my face as I turn around.
"Shut the hell up, you smart ass bastard…" Grumbled the giant that is Joe, wearing almost the exact same clothing as me sans bandanna and sneakers, instead being replaced with boots. Trying and failing at hiding the grin on his face, he continues on. "Anyway, I had to work some magic, but yer' vacation idea came through for me boy! Now instead of suffering two and a half weeks without the only good conversation in this joint, I won't hafta sit through any! Is this what a blessing feels like?!" Joe cheered, apparently forgetting how serious his usual demeanor is. He does that a lot around me, now that I think about it. I swear he might start crying any minute now… what a strange and old friend I have. I get it though, I'd probably cry if he went on vacation and left me there to rot alone too, honestly.
Not that I'll ever admit that to anyone. Ever.
"That's great news Joey-boy. So who's balls did you have to fondle to get your vacation approved so fast huh? Might need to know for later." I inquire, coupled with one of the blankest faces I can muster. With an amused snort he responded back.
"No-ones, actually. Apparently working there every day for 5 years straight with no days off gained me some clout with the office birds. They called it 'Paid Mentality Assurance'! Now ain't that sound important and all fancy like?" The giant of a man finished his question (more of a statement, if you ask me), with an eager grin, no doubt looking forward to his well-earned time off.
Five fucking years?! That's it? Oh, wait… I forgot he used to be a logger. We pretty much started here at the same time, now that I think of it.
'Should I tell him…? Nah he'll be fine. Right?' Is what I thought on the inside. On the outside what I responded with was more along the lines of a shocked, "You betcha, old man!"
Needless to say, old Joe was quite pleased with himself.
Near after this he appeared to have a question not only on his mind, but his face as well if his furrowed eyebrows are any indication.
"Hey Tyler are you heading home too? We should walk to the parking lot together, it's better to walk in numbers since we're in the city like this. I hear all kinds of fucked up stories about muggings around here from the customers. Especially in the evening hours of the day." The older guy quested, giving me the image of him in a Dovahkin helmet. That image will get printed onto a cake at some point... it's just too funny not to have in my memory.
I can quickly tell he's serious about this so I give him a quick nod. Joe doesn't often act too serious around me, but something I've never even heard him joke about is the safety of friends or anything like-minded. A glance at my watch tells me it's 7:50 PM, if it's correct. My watch is always correct. After reassuring the big guy multiple times that I don't mind, we head off towards the employee parking lot through the crowded streets.
Trying not to bump into strangers is definitely an acquired skill. Big city living at its finest, truly. Something you'll either pick up quickly, or be forever damned to bump into people on a consistent basis… with your threshold for annoyance taking a hit each time.
Knowing both of us fairly well, it's no surprise that we both get pretty fed up with the crowd at a rapid pace. The bumping, excusing, and repetition that is crowd navigation both had us broken by the time we were around halfway there following the normal paths. Nothing but suits and ties as far as the eye can see!
"Hey Joe, I think I know a shortcut to the lot through this alley coming up! You up for it!?" I exclaim over the chatter of the crowd, drawing more than a few annoyed glances my way from all the fuckers on their phones. Jackasses.
"ANYTHING TO GET OUT OF THIS TIDAL WAVE OF FUCK!" Is what the old man answered back, just a slight bit too loud. Skipping the annoyance stage altogether, the suits glare at him heavily. I feel like getting that kind of reaction is a special skill that he's developed over the years…
Maybe not my brightest idea to choose an alleyway shortcut in the heart of the city, but the grating feeling of irritation waits for no man.
Through all of the hustle and bustle of the city streets, we both managed to forget old man Joe's earlier warning. Nothing will cloud the mind like irritation. Or anger. Or just about anything, really. Humans are pretty shit when it comes to remembering stuff honestly.
Both of us stood at the entrance to the alleyway, it being spring there was still a good amount of light, but it was dark enough that the alleyway was shaded. A bit too shaded for a meager comfortable stroll. I see Joe look to me from the corner of my eye, seeming as if he wanted to voice something.
"What's the matter old man, losing your nerve at a couple spooky shadows?" I taunt at him good-naturedly, clawing my hands in a poor imitation of a monster.
"Not at all kiddo, I'm just wondering how many times you been down this way by yerself… if I'm honest you don't really seem like the shortcut type anymore son." He answered with an inquisitive silence following. In all honesty, he was right. I'm not too fond of shortcuts because they usually lead to areas a bit too suspect for me these days.
Especially after what happened with her.
"Well, desperate times, right? Besides, it's basically daylight still and it's almost a straight shot to the lot. What could go wrong, old man?"
I tempted fate.
"Guess yer right kiddo. Well let's get a move on! I'm roasting over here damn it!" the cool-as-a-cucumber Joe exclaimed with a jolly huff.
And so we forged on through the alleyway with all the confidence of hardened warriors, even though neither of us were as such. As we continued through, we reached its darkest point. Just before we breech a lighter part in the shadow, both Joe and I heard something worrying.
A loud clanking sound echoed off the stone of the buildings to either side of us. This followed by the sound of rustling immediately has us both on edge. Joe… noticeably faster than me.
For the love of fuck let that be a racoon! Trash pandas I can handle! Legitimate monsters, though…? Probably not so much.
Both of us whirled around out of barely trained instinct. The first sound was obviously the metal trash cans in the alleyway being disturbed. The second sound we would find out. Nothing was in our line of sight, so with a well-placed look at each other we turned back around.
A person was there, waiting for us.
The light clink of metal penetrates my ears, followed by a powerful realization.
He just cocked a gun.
"Hands in the air. Don't make any funny moves." Calmly stated the clearly serious man.
"Fuck." I say out of instinct, Joe pretty much echoing me at this point.
Fate answered right back.
I'll be honest, I am panicking right now. Me and Joe have our hands up unenthusiastically, this fucker has a gun, and the rustling was obviously this guys clothes. Decked out entirely in black, this guy just oozes bad news. I guess the goddamn gun helps with that aura of his too, if I really think about it. Beanie, shades, black t-shirt, leather jacket, gloves, jeans and boots. The only feature I can glean from this guy is what I'm sure is mint green hair peeking out from under that beanie of his. I can't even fathom what the hell we should do next.
"Fuck is right. I want you to take out your wallets slowly with your right hands. I only want the money and the cards, but try anything funny and your cash won't be the only thing I'm taking." The mystery thug states casually, as if he would be more entertained by the dictionary.
"Listen you can take the money just don't hur-!" That was all I managed to get out before I was interrupted by old man Joe.
"I can't let you take the kids money. He's been saving up since he started working. You won't be getting anything, he needs it." Joe retorted with unnatural calm for the situation.
'What is he talking about? This is a robbery! What's wrong with-' I started thinking before being cut off yet again.
"I don't give a shit if the money is to save his baby sister's life. I'm. Taking. IT." Said the robber with deadly assurance that he would get what he wants. This guy is the real fucking deal!
"It seems that we ain't the agreeing type, boy." Joe said with a conviction I've never heard before, I'm getting worried. "I won't let you take it."
My eyes widen, but I barely notice it... my mind is trying to run at speeds I can't possibly hope to follow.
"What could you possibly do against me, grandpa?" Taunted the thief followed by a hearty laugh, wracking his body with shakes. His gun arm, however, moved not an inch.
It was at this moment, almost as if on cue, that the crazy old man next to me turned and looked me in the eyes. Those eyes showed no fear… he even had a fucking smile on. Just who the fuck is this guy I've known all this time?!
As mentally out of it as I was at the time… I don't think I'll ever forget what he told me next.
"Don't let people push you around so easily son. While I'm at it, find a girl or maybe even three of em' you fucking prude!"
What?
That crazy old man then proceeded to rush the armed thief with nothing but his own two fists and thundering grizzly laughter…
Three disgustingly loud sounds launched themselves through the alley, bouncing off the walls around us and becoming just that much louder. I couldn't even flinch.
…And got three bullets through the chest.
I just watched.
He fell like a bag of rocks to the hard pavement.
And I just watched.
That damn old fuck just threw away his life for me.
And I just watched.
The gunman just shook his head.
I felt something inside me snap. I'm just sure it was something important. I'm sure it was.
Because in that next instant I was rushing towards old man Joe, and I didn't feel fear.
Seven more shots, just as loud as the last three hit my ears. Once again, I don't have it in me to flinch.
*Click click click*
"Shit!"
Let me be the first to say that adrenaline is one hell of a fucking chemical.
I got hit by every one of those damn bullets and I didn't feel shit more than a tickle. I managed to get to the body of that shitty old man and lift; no, actually pick up and run with old man Joe on my shoulders back the way we came. This entire time I couldn't hear anything other than the blood pumping through my ears, so who knows what became of the murderer. All I know is that I managed to book it all the way out of the alley and to the other side of the street before I tripped.
I dropped Joe in front of me, most of me on the sidewalk, only part of me left on the street. My left leg…
A disgustingly wet wheezing type of sound emits from next to me. That's blood that just splattered against my cheek. What else could it be?
"G-gramps…?" I ask, more along the lines of plead in my mind.
".…w-what-s wrong k-kiddo, too old to r-run around like that anymore….?" Life is barely in his voice and he's making fucking jokes… he won't make it… I won't either. A fitting way to die, all things considered.
"D-damn old m-an, you rea-ally s-hit the b-bed this time!"
With matching shit-eating grins, both covered in blood, we really are a spitting image. Ain't that just nice!
I must be out of super movement juice (adrenaline) because I can't move worth a fuck. Maybe I can-
'I think Joe just stopped breathing. For good this ti-'
As if on cue to bring my thoughts to a halt, something filthy sounding permeates the area. A disgusting cacophony of crunches and squelches, a choir of gore erupts in my ears. A burst of pain I can only describe as lightning shoots up and down my leg before going worryingly numb.
'Aaand that was my leg. Guess its roadkill. Fuck.'
'I think maybe I'll just close my eyes. Then if I rest them just a little, I'll… I'll…'
My thoughts were taken over, stopping right there and going no further. But I could see. All around me were those same suits from earlier, men and women suddenly ripped from their monotonous routine and thrust into a situation they have nothing to do with. Some panicking and calling for help, others rushing past and trying their best to ignore it all. The bus that ran me over was stopped in the middle of the road, the driver already out of his vehicle and rushing towards me… the casualty. My hearing is gone… but I can still see how loud everyone is.
I can see my father figure. The one who took in not only myself, but also my best friend. Despite not knowing either of us at all, despite our involvement in… delinquent activity… he took us in and never gave up on us. He's lying on the sidewalk with that smile still on his face, bloodied and without breath.
In the blink of an eye, I could no longer see.
All I now knew, was black.
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End Flashback µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
To summarize, I took a shortcut to the parking lot with my friend old man Joe, proceeded to get both of us killed, and also managed to get run over by a fucking bus before I kicked the bucket. All of this not even two days from vacation for both of us.
Holy fuck dude how I went out sounds like it's both cliché and hardcore as fuck at the same time. What am I, some comic book character?
Now you know just as much as I do about the current situation, well almost I suppose. There are a few details of where I am that I've managed to gather since I woke up, which I think might be important.
One, during all this time (13+ hours), I haven't hit the floor yet. I think it's safe to say wherever the fuck I am either doesn't have one, or is maybe a continuous loop. I personally have my money on the last one because I'm almost positive that I've seen some of these 'doors' more than once on my little sky-diving adventure here. That's good news, it means I haven't missed the chance to pick which door I want.
Two, I'm absolutely sure that I've seen these damn 'doors' before. 'Doors' referring to the anomalies on all sides of me, passing me by with a somewhat lazy speed and being open to look almost exactly like your typical portal. I don't just mean that I recognize them from my repeating fall here, but that I recognize what's inside these mind-boggling pieces of proof that other universes exist. It depends on the door, really, but for the most part I can recognize where they lead. Should I name a few off, I'd come up with places like the bridge of the Normandy SR-2, one leading to what I am sure is Rapture's Medical wing, some kind of tavern looking place with what sounds like the abrasive noise of a bar fight, one in which the edge of the 'doorway' is emphasized with a solid trail of salt and exactly 13 nails, even a damn research station on mars! Note to self, avoid that last one at all costs. The list goes on and on, each one more exciting than the last.
Finally, three, throughout the time I've been falling I actually haven't been losing any blood. A blessing in its own right considering just how extensive my wounds are. This gives me hope to perhaps even survive my trip through this shit. Barely.
'I do believe I've given enough mental fucking detail to satisfy whatever gods or goddesses are watching for entertainment. I'm getting real god damned tired of falling, so I should pick my mark and head for the flight out of this psychedelic nightmare fun house…' I think to myself irritably. Can you blame me? I fucking died not too long ago, I feel I'm entitled to a bit of snark.
With a new-found goal in mind I begin studying characteristics that make up each passing doorway, not realizing in my excitement that I leaned forward just a tad too much. It was with a bit of a start that I registered each passing doorway seemed to be growing larger than the last. With a startled yell it clicked in my mind that I was now careening towards the wall of portals and-
*THUNK*
Apparently I was also heading towards a wall of visible acid trip that was a lot more… solid… than I once thought it was, smearing my life blood all over space and time in the process.
"Just what the FUCK is this place actually supposed to be?" I ask myself in a scratchy voice while frantically throwing my hands up in an attempt to grip the edges of whatever portal rested directly above me. To my utter bewilderment, I actually got a grip. On the edge of a fucking portal. On the edge of another universe. Immediately following my grip being made, I slam once again into the psychedelic side of reality with a small 'Ooof'.
"It's all fun and games until you go and break physics, fucker…" I mumble quietly to myself, this time honestly shocked and with no exaggeration completely done trying to figure out just what the fuck was happening. I brace my arms to lift my body up just enough for a peek through the portal I find myself hanging from, in no hurry to let go and continue my falling displeasure when I hear something that interrupts me.
More than just a bit startled, I look around to find the source of what sounds like muffled yelling, obviously one side of an extremely heated argument with how loud it was. After a solid twenty seconds of looking around I finally pinpoint the origin of the sound being around two portals directly above me.
"What is this shit? Are you trying to ship out MY GOODS without a proper permit!? Just who the hell do you think you are!? Look at this! Shock Jockey, Bucking Bronco, Return to Sender, even UNDERTOW! DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL!? I SEE THAT BOTTLE BEHIND YOUR BACK, BOY! That's it, Jamesson, your employ with Fink Industries is now terminated. Do I make myself CLEAR, Jamesson? You're fired! Fired, FIRED, FIRED, FIRED!"
'Guess poor Jamesson just got his ass stomped in. Rest in Peace, poor man.' I thought sardonically to myself.
My thought was punctuated by an entire fucking crate of shit getting flung into my little homely void of mindfuck through the same portal I heard the verbal ass blasting come from. The side, if I'm reading this right, says 'Fink Industries, EST. 1893'. This simple stamp blew my innocent little mind.
"Fink Industries, there's no way… But if it actually is…"
Then I can't let the opportunity quite literally fall past my grip.
What with the luck of the devil on my side, me catching sight of a lone bottle following after the massive shipping crate should be a no-brainer. Apparently whoever shoved that entire shipping crate of vigors in here must have gotten ahold of the one hidden behind Jamesson's back and decided to chuck that one too. Lucky me! The bottle was significantly closer to me as it was on its way down, almost as if the thrower meant for me to catch it… The half serious thought 'Who am I to defy providence' briefly thundered through my mind as I reached for the falling god send.
*Tink*
And with that ground shaking sound my genetic fate was sealed. My future now rested in the palm of my hand. Turning it here and there slightly with the hand I caught it, I soaked in the blue glass, silver depiction of an angry ass octopus and the tentacle shaped stopper. I'm basically dancing a jig in my heart as I realize just what I'd been so graciously supplied with.
"Undertow…? OH FUCK YEAH! This fuckin' thing is one of the coolest vigors! And it might just be the only one in any of the games to actually use water to attack from what I remember…" I'm sure I have a shit-eating mega-watt grin on my face right now. Uh, because Undertow, duh. " So, cursed and blessed in short order? I might just be able to live with that!"
"... ya know… if I do live."
And so it was with one hand holding me up by the edge of a portal and the other gripping greedily at a bottle of magic alcohol that I deftly tore out the cork and spat it away into the void. Within exactly 3 seconds I'm downing a bottle of mystical spaghetti sauce that promised to give me superpowers with all the thirst of a man lost in the desert. Why the hell it tastes like blue Gatorade, is the only question I have at the moment. Finishing the bottle off, that too ended up joining the cork in falling through the void. Newsflash, the vigor works.
I suppose one good thing about being in this void is I didn't have to feel what happened next. I only watched as select pores gradually increased in size to pock marks, then bullet wounds, and then gaping holes running clean through my arm. Both slightly in horror and fascination I also watched as my arm slowly receded back to normal, no doubt going dormant until the next time I decide to flare my newly acquired vigor.
"So. Fucking. Rad." I whispered to myself. Then shaking my head I put my free hand back firmly on the edge of the portal I'd been hanging from all this time. 'I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be for this shit. Let's do this.' This was the last thought that went through my mind as I steeled myself and lunged over the edge of the portal above me, effectively launching myself into a new reality. A new adventure.
A new chapter to my life.
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North Shoreline of Patch Island µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
Let it be said that I did not stick the landing. What with 7 gunshot wounds, a fucked leg, and two now very sore arms, how could I have? Still, I'm sure I could have hoped for a bit better than a face full of sand and rock. Mostly rock, actually… I could've landed on my back at least. Too little too late I guess, but whatever. I have more pressing matters to address. Like the fact that since I'm now out of the… I'll just keep referring to it as void… I am now experiencing the near crippling pain of my injuries.
"F-ffffuck, maybe I s-should have actually chosen the med bay… this beach can't help me, I'm f-fuckin bleeding out over here…" My voice was barely above a whisper, I must be worse off than I thought. I have to try for a while before I manage to flop onto my back, causing a massive surge of pain to go through me. As I force myself to choke down a moan of pain I weakly look my bloodied body over, leading me to notice my leg seems a bit better off than it was last time I checked. Now instead of looking like a meat-filled sock, it looks more like a leg that had been mauled. Still pretty bad, but progress is what I told myself. Maybe it was the vigor? Either way, it doesn't really matter right now.
"I suppose there's n-nothing to do but wait. Hope someone finds me before… before…" I trail off quietly, now fighting a battle just to keep my eyes open.
It's a losing battle, obviously. I'm on the verge of passing out, but something interesting happens which hooks my attention just enough to keep me from a black out just yet. A sharp noise echoes off the surrounding landscape, an overtly dangerous one with an express one-way ticket to my ears. Rocky. Red eyes.
"Everyone gets one. But you're interesting... appearing like you have. You'll get two, boy. One now, one later." A surprisingly velvety voice says to me. At this point all I can do is hear, having already lost the battle to keep my eyes open. I, however, don't need my eyes to know who this is, I'd never be able to mistake that sound and that voice being in the same place.
Raven Branwen.
'Looking after bloody boys on the beach are we? Interesting... I totally told you so. My 'skill' is even super effective against 'mom of the year' over here, and when I'm almost dead to boot!' I quite mistakenly managed to think to myself before sinking into the darkness of my mind.
Everything is always so dark…
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A Dusty Old Qrow's POV µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
"Shit shit shit shit shit!" I continued repeating this mantra quietly to myself while I tear ass across the landscape of Patch, my home for some time now.
Not even 10 minutes ago I was peacefully resting my eyes (totally not sleeping, Tai) on my desk at Signal Academy… when I got a message from the green suited troll himself. That's right, a certain Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy.
Always a pleasure talking to that guy, really. The experience absolutely doesn't drop ice cube-like dread down the back of my shirt and then take off running.
Actually I lied… that's exactly what it feels like.
Now let me explain why I don't exactly like getting messages from Ozpin. Whenever I get one from him, my life always gets harder immediately after. Me receiving a message from him usually results in me having to go to some backwater place in the middle of nowhere searching for info, going on a hunt for monstrosities that should never see the light of day and almost kill myself in the process, or sending me on my way to check out something so weird it'll sail right over my head.
Apparently this message involved the latter. However, imagine my surprise when instead of 'the weird shit' happening somewhere nobody's ever fucking heard of, he wants to send me to the northern tip of Patch. The island I live on.
The island my nieces live on.
That's really all I needed to know to get me moving towards my destination like a bat out of hell. All I needed to know to want to kill whatever this 'anomaly' is before it even has the slightest CHANCE of presenting danger to the girls… and the rest of the island too I guess, is that it's too close. Whatever. It'll be dead soon.
'There's a chance it could also be absolutely fuckin nothing too Qrow, calm down a little…' Only one of the many thought rushing through my mind as I ran. I guess I'll just save judgement for later then. Hefting my big ass fucking masterpiece of a weapon up, I strike a pose and put on my most murderous of smiles for a bit of fun.
"Ready or not, here comes Qrow." I mutter mirthfully to the passing shrubbery, not even bothering to laugh at my own joke.
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North Shoreline of Patch Island µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
Finally arriving at my ordered destination I did what any good hunter should do. I used my fucking eyes to check my surroundings. It only pays to be aware. Now, something that about every person on Patch is aware of is where to keep the young away from. Anyone with brain cells is smart enough to keep their kids away from the forest on patch, which is dangerous for reasons involving Grim like Beowolves and the occasional Ursai. The shores, however, are a different breed altogether. In all the kingdoms the shores are seen as dangerous because of various species of aquatic Grim. Patch, surprisingly enough don't have many aquatic Grim at all in the surrounding waters, so the shores are for the most part safe.
This rule, however, has an exception. All residents of Patch without being a fully-fledged Hunter, or at the very least a hunter in training, have been told to stay away from the Northern shoreline of the island because of a relatively recent development. That development being a pack of Grim known as Sand Sharks having taken up residence there. They aren't specifically hard to kill, but they become hard to fight when they swim through sand like water. It being common knowledge on the island to avoid this specific shoreline now begs a question…
'What the fuck is that kid doing napping here!? He'll get ripped to shreds! Troublesome, now I gotta save his ass… Damn it Ozpin, something goes wrong every time you send me on a mission. Miserable old coot…' I briefly panic to myself while successfully remaining cool as a damn cucumber on the outside. Giving a heavy sigh I stab my sword into the sand for the time being and unveil my trusty sidekick: hard liquor. Taking a quick swig from my flask I hide it away once more, yanking my 'just-as-trusty' scythe-sword combo out of the beach and calmly walk towards the boy all the while preparing to grill the kid on just what the hell he's thinking relaxing here of all places.
'He's damn lucky the nest is off further to the East near the rocks or he would've been Grim chow right now.' I think to myself, irritation heavy at the front of my mind. As I continue getting closer I see more details. These details are what quicken my pace.
"Damn, maybe this kids not as lucky as I thought after all." Are the words that tumble out of my mouth, now running full speed towards the poor boy. I fall to my knees quickly once I've arrived, letting my weapon slam into the sand with the same amount of urgency.
'Shit, that's a lot of blood… who the fuck would do something like this to a kid!?' Not letting myself dwell on just how many people would, in fact, do exactly this and probably worse to the kid I go about taking stock of his injuries, and to a lesser degree his general appearance.
The first thing I noticed was how absolutely fucked his leg was. Like it had been chewed on by a Beowolf, but something just wasn't quite… right with that assessment.
'Nevermind that, no time.' I berated myself. Next I had to check exactly what was wrong with his torso to induce bleeding like that. I tore his shirts neatly down the center, taking care to go around the bronze fish necklace (I know sentimental value when I see it), to reveal… bullet wounds? I'm gonna need more than just my flask if this is what I've gotta deal with…
"There's seven of them… someone tried to murder this kid!? What the hell is this world coming to?" The revelation that someone must have actively tried to dispose of this boy by feeding him to the sharks around these parts left me feeling sick to my stomach. Believe me, that's hard to do these days.
'At this point he's lost too much blood to make it back to the village, unless…' Qrow's eyes steeled over, an air of solemn integrity falling over him, tainted with the slight tinge of regret. 'I have no choice. For this kid to live… I gotta force him into the life of a Huntsman. That's the only way I can be sure he doesn't turn out like... like the last one I saved...'
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A Main Temporarily Named Tyler's POV µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
As I regain consciousness, I can hear someone mumbling. I'm guessing someone else found me then? Possibly that Raven didn't gift me with death? Great. However, something about the voice is awfully familiar… I just can't quite place it yet. What the voice says next however, stops my mind dead in its tracks and garners my full, undivided attention.
"For it is in passing that we achieve true purpose. Through this, we become a pillar of strength and light for all those around. Standing tall and shining brightly through the shadows. Here, I release your soul, and by my own, protect thee."
'Holy fuck there is no way dude.' That was more or less the state of my mind as I frantically fought to open my eyes. Managing to do just that, I crack my eyes open just in time to see a massive burst of seafoam green envelope me.
Flowing and crashing, just like the ocean waters I adore so much.
As the light recedes I find before me everyone's favorite drunkle, Qrow 'Schnee-Fucking' Branwen. Holy shit is this what it's like to be a fanboy? Gross.
Qrow seems to take notice of the fact I opened my eyes and offers me some quick words and liquid painkiller.
"Monty Oum kid, that soul of yours must be powerful as shit. Now I have no doubt we'll make it back to the village in time to get you fixed up. Here, drink it. You probably need it more than me right now." As he finishes he hands me the ever so coveted 'Flask of Qrow'. I then take it, wipe the cap and waterfall the shit like any decent member of society should. As I finish I hand it back to him barely able to hold it high enough with my weakened arms. He smirks like I just completed a monumental task worthy of respect and proceeds to pick me up bridal style. Damn it, first time meeting one of the coolest guys around and he has to carry me like a girl. Great.
In all honesty though, I think I must have lost a lot of blood by this point. I can hardly lift my head without help.
"Just hang tight, we'll be at my friend Tai's house before you know it. He'll patch you up real good, just don't fall asleep on me. Imma need you to stay awake, alright kiddo?" Qrow asked me with a strong voice, garnering a slurred agreement from me in response. Meanwhile I was busy thinking of the way Qrow called me kiddo.
That sadistic old man shouldn't have died like that. He didn't deserve it.
It was at this point I'm glad Qrow was busy focusing on rushing us back to the village. And let me tell you, this fucker can run fast! If he wasn't focused on that, there's a good chance he would've seen the tears I shed silently for my lost family. Hell, there's a good chance he still noticed anyway.
That crazy old bastard… I'll miss him. I'll miss him a lot.
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Chapter 1 µµµEND µµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµµ
So what do all you fuckers out there think? Not bad for my first rodeo eh? Yeah? Yeah.
I'm pretty proud of how this turned out for being my first venture into this shit, but if you guys find anything that needs fixing grammatically that I might of missed I'd appreciate the help. (My keyboard is kinda jacked at the moment, so sometimes it might miss a letter or whatever. Sorry about that and I know, it gets on my nerves too.)
I'm trying to flesh out the story bit by bit as I go, so it'll probably get better and better… at least I hope it does.
Other than that I hope you enjoyed my little corner show here. Favorite it, review it, whatever you people feel like doing, just have fun with it.
Until next time, I guess!
Shore out