Chapter 1: A Rough Start
"I'm not quite sure what the typical first memory of a young old boy should be. Pleasant ones I would like to think. Something along the lines of a birthday party, playing with friends, or sharing a special moment with the parents or a sibling." A pair of eyes shot to the hard tile of the floor hoping to find some comfort in it for what was coming next.
Sitting at the table in the middle of a small room that could only be described with eerie similarities to an interrogation room for criminals, sat a boy. The light shone on him and him alone as the others in the room preferred for the focus to be on teenager. He attempted to sit up straight to maintain his composure but the serious atmosphere of the room appeared to take its toll on him. He hunched back over and hung his head. Wishing to not admit he was cracking under a little pressure but it showed enough for anyone observing to know that he did not enjoy how things were going at the moment. After a moment, fiery eyes rose to meet the small committee wishing to question the boy.
In most cases fiery would be meant figuratively as if the boy showed determination and strength just through the look in his eyes. In the case of this specific teenage boy, it was most literal. His irises gave off the appearance of a dancing flame within a fireplace on a quiet evening. They had that color combination of red, orange, and yellow while they all continuously seemed to be interchanging and moving about. As they would flicker quite frequently it made his eyes seem like they had a life of their own. Although soothing to look at in this instance it made the other parties in the room believe that if they were to anger the boy the look of damnation from his eyes would be enough to incinerate them on the spot. Once the party on the opposite side of the table from the boy finished inspecting his eyes it was evident that he adopted this obsession with flames into many aspects of his life.
The boy had hair that was ear length but stylishly spiked to stand up while the color scheme made it look like it was on fire. The seamless color flow began with the roots as their original brown color that quickly turned to bright red and then ended with the tips having a bright orange and yellow mixture. His sunglasses had a sporty angled black frame with blaze colored lenses and sat comfortably on his forehead at the base of his hairline. His complexion looked that it was a lighter one turned tan from obviously extended exposure to the sun, but not too dark to signify living in a hot desert type of climate. The only noticeable blemish on his skin was the three claw marks on his right arm that spanned along his outer arm from his triceps to his biceps. The marks were pale white against his bronzed skin. Even sitting you could tell the boy was of slightly above average height (Roughly about 6'0) with a lean body build. His clothes were that of an athlete. He wore blue and white athletic shoes with what looked to be orange low cut socks. His clothing consisted of a light and breathable material. It had the appearance that it had been modified to not only be more flexible but more durable at the same time. His sport shorts were fire orange with cobalt blue stripes up the sides that started appropriately at his waist line and stopped just above the knees. Once you moved up to the matching orange sleeveless shirt the blue stripes on the sides erupted into a flame pattern that stopped just short of his underarms. His shirt also had a symbol on the left side of his chest located right above where the heart would be. His crest started as a base flame that forked into two curved up and met to form a heart of fire. The crest was blue to obviously go along with the boy's color scheme. A noticeable aspect of his crest was that unlike most other crests seen, his was not filled in. Simply a single flame that broke into two, arced away, and then back to each other only to connect again as the joining point at the center of the heart.
Although he was only eighteen years old he emanated a somewhat mature persona that stated he had his fair share of unpleasant experiences. The world of Remnant was by no means a hospitable one. Outside of the major cities small communities had to fight to survive. Knowing that this boy was indeed from a border village, it was assumed that he had to partake in the defense of his home. It was sad to think a teenage boy would have to help fight to allow this small village to maintain its existence in the harsh wilderness.
"And if they weren't good memories they would be something like their first trip to the doctor or maybe, MAAAAYBE something along the lines of them getting hurt but then getting consoled by a loved one." His immediate thought process went to the image of a kid getting a twisted ankle and then being carried by their dad to safety. That was what every kid needed at that age right? Everyone needs that feeling of security that only a parent can provide. He was sure of it, but waved his hand dismissively as he realized he was distracting himself. He quickly moved to continue after he realized his thinking had left a pause in his explanation. "A-and they are not exactly crystal clear" the boy stuttered.
"Not the hellish nightmare that I had to survive" He clenched his fists and grimaced as the images flashed into his mind. "That also loves to keep playing on repeat in my mind every night" He finished with a great amount of loathing in his voice.
The others in the room tensed up. He got it; he was in possession of a powerful aura. He had only met a few people his age who could go toe to toe with him in an all out battle. Then again he was raised in an orphanage for many years. Said orphanage is located in a small town on the outskirts along the border of Vacuo and Vale. So he supposed his early experience in fighting wasn't the best compared to some others who had fought in large scale tournaments and such. The more recent years were not exactly void of action though. Regardless, he released the tension in his fists and tried to relax. This seemed to calm the others and he looked up to give a half-hearted smirk as he continued.
Begin the 12 year flashback -
The first thing he remembered was red. Two red orbs that were hiding behind a bone mask and attached to a hideously disfigured wolf-man type of abomination staring right down at him. Its black fur was already coated with blood as it had already had its main course. The boy determined he must have been the desert because it came at him with a type of ferocity that showed he was its sole craving at the moment.
As it opened its jaws to crush him like a grape between its razor sharp teeth, something hit it in the side of the head. He turned to see his older sister staring down the beast with a malicious glare and armed with a vase. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" She yelled and threw the vase. It traveled at a surprisingly quick velocity as it struck the Grimm in the bone mask and he even saw the beast's mask crack a little bit. Needless to say this didn't exactly please the beast as it snarled at the boy's sister and took a step towards her. Her amber eyes didn't show any fear but none the less he made his move to help. "SIS!" He yelled as he bolted beneath the Beowolf and punched the beasts' right knee from the side. It didn't do any damage but did knock the beast slightly off balance. This distracted it long enough for the two children to escape out the front door into the battlefield that was in the streets.
The two siblings stopped cold in their tracks as soon as they exited the house. The battlefield was more like a slaughterhouse with the amount of carnage they bore witness to. Grimm filled the streets preying on the defenseless civilians. A few soldiers were trying to defend the town as well as themselves but were so helplessly outnumbered they weren't making much of a difference.
It was in that moment that the two siblings forgot the reason they had fled into the open streets in the first place. The pursuing Beowolf then lashed out knocking the girl away while simultaneously catching the young boy's arm with its claws. It pulled its arm back gashing the poor boy's arm with three very distinct wounds. As the boy grabbed his arm he cried out in pain gaining the attention of a nearby soldier.
"NO!" Yelled the man as he ran to intercept the beast before it could attack the children again. As the boy lay on the ground with the beast towering over him the soldier raised his rifle. The Beowolf attempted to finish off the boy but was pierced by a storm of bullets. The beast fell lifeless and began its postmortem disintegration as the soldier reached the children.
"Are you alright?" He asked with a mixture of shock and worry both on his face and in his voice. He knelt down to get a closer inspection on the boy's wound.
"Yes dad." The boy replied but couldn't hide the pain he was in.
"Take your hand off so I can look at it." The boy's father commanded.
He hesitated, but the boy reluctantly agreed. His left hand was now coated in blood from the wound on his opposing arm. After removing his hand he got his first look at the wound and was thrown into a state of shock. He started hyperventilating as his face turned a ghostly pale white.
"Son! SON!" The boy was brought back to reality with a firm shaking of his shoulders from his father. "Look it's not all that bad." He said nodding down to the injured arm. "It's just a deep scratch from the looks of it. No muscle or bone damage so it should heal." He then smiled crookedly and exhaled a single chuckle. "As a matter a fact it might just leave a badass scar. Ladies love that."
The boy then made eye contact and slightly smiled. Even in the middle of a warzone with his youngest child hurt, his father's humor shown through. It was at that moment the boy's sister joined the family reunion and gave her father one of the iciest 'go to hell' looks he had ever seen.
"DAD! How can you be making jokes at a time like this? He could have DIED!" She made it a very clear point to emphasize that last word. She made her point though and her father's demeanor quickly changed back to a very serious one.
"Relax sweetheart I was just trying to comfort your brother. But we do need to clean this wound and bandage it. Unfortunately, all my medical supplies I left back with the doctor. So we need to get back into the house for the med kit under the sink." He nodded with his head back to their home behind the children. However, the two young ones seemed reluctant to go back inside.
"Dad that thing found us in there so I don't really want to go back in." The boy summarized to his father.
"Well we can't exactly stay out in the open while I try to patch you up." To emphasize his point he turned to his left and shot a charging Beowolf. The monster fell dead before it got too close to the party but that also gathered the attention of more nearby Grimm.
"Alright, inside now!" He commanded while unloading the rest of his clip into the oncoming group of Grimm. The family retreated back to their home and ducked inside just in time. As their father slammed the door behind them and threw down the wooden door brace, the sound of the demonic animals ramming themselves mindlessly against the steady barricade was deafening. After a few minutes of praying the door would hold, the beasts seemed to grow tired and only the distant sounds of fighting were heard.
"Well then, shall we take a look at that arm then?" Both children gave a bewildered look to their father and his ability to keep calm in these circumstances. He grabbed the med kit and cleaned the boy's wound with antiseptic. He then bandaged the arm skillfully so that the boy could still use his arm in case of an emergency. In the moments it took for the father to take care of his son the sounds of battle faded away.
"Well, now that we are done here, I'm going to gather a few things and then we will head out. Sweetie?" He looked to his daughter and got her attention. "Would you check the back door to make sure it's safe? Be extremely careful and no matter what do not give our position away. Understood?"
The girl nodded and left towards the back of the house. As their father left to get his things, the young boy was left alone to his thoughts. He then realized that this could be the last time he would ever see his beloved home and thought to take something memorable. He found a family picture from last year's Christmas and removed it from the frame.
"What are you doing?" He turned around to see his sister with her hands on her hips looking at him accusingly.
"I'm taking this just in case we never come back." The boy said innocently. He folded the picture up and stuck it in his back pants pocket.
"Don't talk like that." She demanded but the look on her face was one of realization that her baby brother could be right. As she realized this she began looking over the downstairs of their home, seeming to take in all the memories and images she could. She then scanned the living room but before she could settle on something their father came back from the other room with a backpack of supplies.
"Alrighty then how does the back of the house look sweetie?"
"Its clear dad. It was almost too clear. There was no sign of anything moving and no sound what so ever."
"So you suspect a trap?" The dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then said with a laugh, "Huh, I've taught you well kiddo. Alright but it's our best bet of a safe escape so follow me and keep close. Also, here." He revealed two handguns which he distributed to his children. "You may not know how to use these but the basic idea is point this end at the bad guys and pull the trigger. See these white dots on the top?" The children looked at their firearms and nodded. "Look down the sights and line the two back dots up with the front dot so that all three are in a nice even line." The children did so not realizing they were pointing the guns directly at their dad. "Whoa whoa watch it you two! That's the dangerous end you are pointing at me!" The kids brought the guns down quickly and gave a mumbled sorry to their dad. They then pointed the guns away from their dad and looked down their sights. "Ok when you line the three dots in a row you have a good aim on your target then you pull the trigger." At that moment he heard a click of a firing pin being released.
"… That… is why I didn't give you these yet." He said now pulling two clips from the backpack and handing them to the kids. "Slide these in the bottom of your handle and pull the top of the gun back." The children did so with a small amount of help being given to the boy by his father. "Great now you are ready to kill your first Grimm!" Their dad seemed almost proud and then he changed his tone to a more serious one. "I pray that you don't have to use these but if it comes to it you protect yourselves. Ok?"
Both of the children (now feeling slightly more mature because they had real life weapons in their hands) nodded in agreement to their father's instructions. They then began checking over their new prized possessions with care.
"Alright. Now let's head out and go find your mother." As he said it their father moved towards the back door and slapped a new clip into his assault rifle. He cocked the gun with an over emphasized click and then unlocked the door. "I'll lead. Follow all of my instructions exactly as I say them. When I say move, move. If I tell you to stay put you do not move until I tell you to. Do NOT make any unnecessary noise. Understood?" He looked to see both kids nodding their heads with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
"Wait dad." The boy decided to ask a question before they headed out. "How are we going to find mom in all this?"
He was met with muffled chuckling from his father. "Well you know how your mom is the strongest fighter you know right?" Both kids nodded again. "Well we just need to head to the area that has the most Grimm. The most fighting means that's where your mom will be. I'm going to guess the town hall is the ideal spot to start our search." With that he opened the door and they moved into the alley out the back of their house in the direction of what sounded like where the center of the battle was.