RWBY: Breaking the Horizon
Chapter 1: Building Bridges
The boy walked alone through the darkened back alleys of Vale. Even in a city of Fuanus, Hunters, and the Creatures of Grimm, this boy seemed out of place. He had platinum coloured hair, and was dressed in a black waistcoat, black skinny fit trousers, and normal-looking grey hi-top trainers. His most striking feature however, were his eyes, which didn't actually seem to be able to settle on one colour. They flicked between multiple whenever he turned his head, and the effect was quite mesmerising.
He walked purposefully through the grimy streets, his feet occasionally coming down in small pools of oily water. As he moved down down the cramped street, a small gang of thugs noted him, and, with a quick glance at one another, they all turned to follow.
They pursued him at a distance, and the boy seemed completely unaware of their presence. He strode down one street, then turned sharply left, then led the gang in a circle, before finally turning into a small enclosure, in which there only stood a few dirty bins and dumpsters.
The leader of the gang, a brutal looking man with an ugly scar slashed across his left eye, smirked, and flipped his companions a knife and pistol each. He nodded, and they burst around the corner, only to find the courtyard empty. A metallic tapping drew their attention, and they saw the boy sat, cross-legged, on top of one of the rusted metal containers.
"Were you planning to mug me?" he said, in a bored sounding accent, that I and you would describe as British.
"That was the general idea, yeah," the leader growled, and he cocked the pistol, pointing it at the boy's head, "Give us what you have kid, and we'll let you go."
The boy's eyes shimmered as he cocked his head to one side, and he tapped his top lip thoughtfully.
"No," he said slowly, "I don't think sooo..."
"What?" The man snarled, and he clicked the safety off, raising his free hand to support the one holding the gun, "I don't think you understand kid."
"Oh, I understand perfectly," the boy said cheerily, climbing to his feet, "But, I don't really feel like getting mugged right now so, if you could like, leave, that'd be great."
"It's not what you want," the man said dangerously, and his finger tightened on the trigger, "Now this is your last chance. Give me your crap, and you might just get out of here alive."
The boy sighed theatrically, and stretched leisurely.
"So, we're gonna be like that are we?" He asked, and as he spoke, he touched a button on his wrist, and grey cubes scuttled down his arm, converging in the boys hands to form a lethal looking rifle. The muggers eyes all widened, and they unconsciously took a step back.
"I'm afraid," the boy finished smoothly, "That you're all going to have to die. Apologies in advance."
He leapt from the dumpster and barrelled into one of the muggers, knocking him off his feet. With a short spray, the man's chest was filled with bullets and he slumped to the ground, lifeless. The other two dived away and opened fire.
The boy seemed to tear his rifle apart, and it swiftly reformed into a wide shield, the bullets pinging off the flat grey surface. It broke apart, and danced around the boy's wrists as he charged the men, smoothly grafting together to become a pair of wickedly sharp katana. He twisted, and flung his ar around, sending the katana scything though the air, and it buried itself in one of the thug's throats, and he went down with a sickening gurgle of escaping blood.
The leader snarled, and managed to raise his arm in time to parry the blow that came down on his head with the short stubby knife. He knocked the boy backwards and grinned, displaying several missing teeth.
"C'mon on then kid, show me whatcha got."
"Gladly."
The boy flicked a hand, and the blade pulled itself from the dead man's neck, and flew into the boy's awaiting palm. He crushed the swords together, and reformed them into two bulky machine pistols. He crossed them across his chest and raised an eyebrow at his attacker, who snorted and shook his head.
"Smartass..."
The two moved at the same moment. The thief gripped his knife and charged, and the boy dropped to one knee and opened fire. Bullets ripped through the air in a messy spray and several tore into the man's leg. He grunted and stumbled, but continued running.
The boy spun the guns in his hands, and they melted into a pair of short serrated daggers. He dived forwards and there was the sharp clash of metal on metal. The boy dropped to the floor and pushed himself between the thug's legs, burying the knives deep into the man's angles, and dragging them through the flesh.
The thug yelled and crumpled to all fours, panting hard, and the boy stood, smirking at the shuddering form before him.
"Are we done yet?" The boy said, twirling the knives between his fingers.
The man made an inaudible noise, and the boy crouched down, cupping a hand around his ear.
"Speak up pumpkin," he said cheerfully, "Couldn't quite hear you there."
"I said," the man muttered, "Not yet."
He lashed upwards with the knife, and it slashed across the boy's face, cutting a deep gash across his mouth. He cried out and staggered backwards, clutching at his mouth with both hands, as blood seeped between his fingers. The knives clattered to the ground, both spattered with blood.
His eyes burned with anger, and he slowly lowered his hands. Scooping the knives from the ground, he slowly approached the thug, who was climbing heavily to his feet.
"No you don't," The boy hissed, and he kicked the man viciously in the face. He fell back, clutching his nose, but the boy did not relent. He split one of the daggers in two, and, peeling the man's arms back, pinned them to the floor by burying the daggers through the thug's wrists. He formed the last dagger into a sawn-off shotgun, which he pointed into the man's face.
"Sayonara," he said, smiling, and then the shotgun roared, and the man's face was peppered with tiny holes.
He pulled the knives from the man's wrists, and the cubes smoothly melted into a bracelet on his wrist. He sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped forwards, his eyes glimmering in the half light.
"David Nightshade," a calm voice said behind him, and the boy, turned, "Or maybe you'd prefer the name your friends gave you; Shade."
"Professor Ozpin," Shade replied, sounding unimpressed, "To what do I owe the pleasure..."
"You never answered the summons to Beacon Academy," Ozpin stated, tapping the floor softly with his cane.
"I've been... busy."
"Quite," Ozpin said, gazing at the bodies of the thugs on the ground, "I gather you put your talents to a... good use then."
"What's it to to you?" Shade asked, folding his arms.
"Listen to me David," Ozpin said, disregarding Shade's question, "You are a fine warrior, and your technical prowess would astound many." He gestured at the bracelet wrapped around Shade's wrist, and it shivered slightly.
"If you come with me to Beacon, you will become great, the stuff of legends," Ozpin spread his hands, and titled his head to one side, "Will you come with me?"
Shade gingerly touched the cut on his lip. It had stopped bleeding, but it wouldn't fully heal for a while, and may even become a scar.
He crouched down and ripped a square of white material from the dead thug's hood, and tied it around his moth and nose, so the gash was hidden.
"Sure," Shade said, turning back to face Ozpin, "I think we got a deal."
"Excellent," Ozpin said, and he tilted his head towards the sky, "We're ready for you now."
A small carrier swept swept down from the inky sky, and hung in the air, as whisper silent as the mist.
"You came prepared."
"It was most unlikely you would decline," Ozpin explained calmly, "Despite your attitude for the past few months, you are a Hunter at heart."
"Still, it's an expensive venture to do based off of a hunch," Shade said, raising one eyebrow.
"David," Ozpin said, impatience creeping into the Professor's voice, "Get on the ship, and stop wasting my time."
"Your subtlety needs work," Shade remarked drily, but even so, he stepped into the awaiting belly of the ship.
…
The sunlight pierced Shade's eyes, and he sat up groggily, gazing blearily around at his surroundings. The dark metal of the ship glimmered faintly in the light, like pearls lying at the bed of a rock pool. He was obviously still on the ship, and he berated himself internally for falling asleep here, lying on the uncomfortable metal slab that was what passed for a bench.
The ship was all but deserted, save for a few forgettable looking crew members, and a girl, of about his age. Their eyes met for a moment, and she blushed and quickly dropped her gaze. Shade twisted in the seat to face the window, and what he saw was incredible.
The town of Vale was spread before him like a child's play set. The gleaming rays of yellow/white sunlight glittered off the many windows and the water of the canal. The town itself stretched on, the roofs forming a reddish-brown sea of tiles, the houses filling the space to the forest on one side, and the shimmering blue canvas of the sea on the other.
"Never gets old," one of the crew murmured to themselves as they brushed past. Shade had to agree. He would never have guessed that the settlement could be such a thing of beauty, but then again, he rarely ventured out of the grimy crime-riddled alleys that the town did its best to hide.
"Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all," Shade muttered to himself, and he placed a gloved hand against the glass, staring out at the horizon.
…
For the thousandth time, Lyra craned her neck to see how far they were from the town of Vale. It had been over an hour since she had spotted the first spires of the town peeking over the horizon.
"C'mon Daddy," she whined, shaking the back of her father's seat impatiently, "Hurry up."
"Calm down Lyra," Her father laughed, as he swayed violently where he sat, "We'll be there soon."
"You said that half an hour ago," Lyra grumbled, and she flopped down into her seat, a little sulkily.
Her father shook his head ruefully and kept his eyes focused on the road.
"I know your anxious to get there honey, but unless you want me to break a few laws, you're just gonna have to wait it out."
Lyra couldn't wait though, that was the problem. She just couldn't keep still, and went from fiddling and adjusting with the shotgun/katana combo that across her lap, which she had affectionately named Ascendant Sabre, to leaning out of the window to her waist, feeling the wind rush through her hair, (which today was dyed an Icy Blue) until her father yelled at her to stop.
It still felt a little unreal, and Lyra expected to wake up back at her dorm in Signal, listening to her room-mates snore. Still, she was on her way to Beacon, to become a Huntress. The thought of it made her giddy. She furiously rubbed a spot of dust from the dark wood that made up the stock of the weapon, and her father laughed again.
"Honestly hon, I think if you clean that any more you won't a rifle left."
"It's a shotgun Daddy, not a rifle," Lyra said indignantly, and her father raised an eyebrow at the rear-view mirror, "My apologies then."
"No I'm sorry, it's just-" Lyra voice broke with excitement, and she made a noise more akin to a high pitched squeak than actual words.
"Well, just sit still and calm down," her father said, half-smiling, "We're basically there, just a few more minutes."
Those "few minutes," felt to Lyra like a few years, but eventually, Lyra found herself gazing around at the idyllic town of Vale. She peered out the window again, and saw the wide, gunmetal grey cruise shuttle that would take her to Beacon. There was the slight crunch of brakes as they stopped moving, and Lyra slid out of the car, and hurried around to the boot. It popped open, and, a few moments later, her father joined her. He lifted the boot lid, and grasped the straps of Lyra's bag, and hefted from the car.
"C'mon then," he said, slinging the bag onto one shoulder and motioning for Lyra to follow, "Let's get you on the damn ship."
"Don't sound so pleased to get rid of me," Lyra pouted as she jogged to catch up with her father, and he chukled.
"Honestly Ly," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled, "Nothing will make me happier than to see the back of you for a few years."
Lyra scowled, and her father burst out laughing, and ruffled her hair, which he knew she hated.
"If looks could kill sweetheart..." Her father said, his sea green eyes twinkling.
They stopped before the ship, the slight updraught from the engines kicking up miniature tornadoes of dust and gravel, which skittered around on the flagstones of the pavement.
Her father slipped the bag from his shoulder, and Lyra reached up and hugged him tightly.
"I'll miss you Daddy," she whispered, and her Father smiled warmly.
"I might miss you too," he replied, and Lyra frowned.
"Well, if you're gonna be like that..." she started haughtily, but her father cut her off with another quick embrace.
"I'm joking," he grinned, "Of course I'll miss ya."
Lyra smiled, her eyes a little watery, and turned to leave, but her father called her back.
"Just a sec, I got something for you."
Her father fumbled in his pockets, and Lyra watched curiously, her head cocked slightly to one side, so a lock of blue hair fell across one eye. After a few moments searching, her father withdrew an ornate silver pocket watch, with he proffered for her to take. Her curiosity piqued, Lyra examined the watch, before looking at her father again.
"It's a watch?" Lyra said bemused, and her father gave her a mischievous grin.
"You'll see," he said mysteriously, and Lyra saw that there was a sly gleam to his eye she had not seen since her mother had been around.
With a final fleeting embrace, Lyra slung the weapon over her shoulder, and hefted her bag, now faintly regretting that she had packed so much. She climbed the sloped gangplank and entered the wide expanse of the craft. Not many people were around, and she wondered if it had been a good idea to leave her house so early. In any case, she was here now, and unless she wanted to return home, she was stuck here. She could explore the town she supposed, but right now, she couldn't really be bothered, and so she lugged her case over to one of the metal benches and flopped down onto it, before rifling through her bag and pulling out a dog-eared book that she had been reading for far too long that the actual length seemed to designate.
A few crew members hurried past, but, for once, Lyra found herself absorbed in the book she was reading, which she normally found difficult to do. That is, until she heard someone stirring from the across the room. She peeked over the top of her book, and saw that a boy of about her won age had sat up on one of the benches, where he had apparently been sleeping. From what Lyra could see, he was quite good looking, with high cheek bones and strong arching eyebrows. His moth and nose were covered with a tattered white triangle of material, but it was his eyes that caught her attention. They shimmered when his head moved, as if they were unsure about what colour they should be.
Lyra found herself transfixed by them, and she simply stared for quite some time, her mouth hanging open slightly. The boy finally noticed her, and Lyra saw the corners of his eyes lift slightly as he smiled. She found her self blushing and quickly turned away, and the boy did the same, swivelling around so he could gaze out of the window.
After a seemingly endless period of awkward silence, Lyra closed the book and stood, sighing. She crossed over to where the boy sat, and perched on the bench next to him.
"Hey," she said, a little nervously, tapping the boy on the shoulder, "I'm Lyra, it's um.. nice to meet you."
Nice to meet you? She thought snidely to herself, You sound like an old person.
The boy turned, and Lyra found herself pinned in his gaze again.
"Lyra," he repeated, his head cocked to one side, that that the eyes jumped between fifteen-or-so different colours, "I'm Shade."
"Shade?"
"Well," he conceded, "It's David. David Nightshade, but no-one called me David, and Nightshade's too cumbersome, so Shade it is."
He shrugged, and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by someone sliding onto the bench next to him and attaching themselves to his arm.
"Davy!" the person squealed, a mass of pink-streaked blonde hair, and bright clothes.
"Hello Veela," Shade replied unenthusiastically, and Lyra gazed at him questioningly.
"This is Veela," he explained, "An old... friend from Signal. Veela, this is Lyra, she just got here."
"Hiya," Veela beamed, turning to stare at Lyra, who was sat awkwardly at the edge of the bench, trying not to interrupt. She found it difficult to believe that Shade could be friends with the very bouncy and overly happy Veela, but stranger things have happened.
"Everyone's just arriving," Veela explained happily, "I couldn't believe it when I saw you one here, especially after you've been hiding for a year."
"Wait, what?" Lyra asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"I went into Signal at the year above where my age group was, which explains why we've never met 'till now," Shade said flatly, "When I graduated, I had a spare year, and I spent it in the back streets of Vale, kinda being a vigilante I guess. There's a lot more to this place than what the councils like to put around, and I lived in it for a year. Then Ozpin found me. Now I'm here."
"Now I've found him," Veela grinned, "And we're gonna have so much fun again."
David's expression told that he thought otherwise.
The rest of the future students were all piling onto the craft now, and Veela disengaged herself from Shade's arm, but still sat close by.
"Soo," Lyra said awkwardly to Veela, "You're becoming a Huntress then?"
"Uh-huh," Veela said cheerily, and from the holsters at her hip, she pulled a pair of claw-shaped pistols, covered in strange markings, and had a pair of what appeared to be solar panels attached to the muzzle.
"I call them the Apex Twins," Veela said proudly, "These don't need ammo, they have a plasma reserve in the holster, which is battery powered. This means I never have to reload. And when the batteries run out, the Solar Panels kick in and recharge the gun. Simple!"
"Veela, calm down," David said, and Lyra could hear the smile in his voice. Despite his initial dis-interest, he seemed to have warmed to her again very quickly, "Stop intimidating the new girl."
"Sorry," Veela said, grinning sheepishly, "I get a little carried away."
Shade reached across, and placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a one armed hug.
"Who knows though?" He said mischievously, "It's a whole new venture now. A lot can happen. We just gotta be ready for it."
I've been writing this chpter for what feels like years... I don't what it was but this definitely was a challenge, and even now I have these niggling little issues with it. But, I think I will go insane if I work away at this chapter any more, (It had already been completely re-written twice).
Maybe it's just my unprofessional style, but this chapter feels a little, I don't know... Flat? Obviously these first two or three will just be introductory, but even so... Meh, maybe I'm just paranoid.
But, future chapters. Expect a darker tone to the story as it progresses, there will be death, like, a lot, but I will give away nothing more now, you'll just have to read on right (teehee!)
Peace out,
~Europiam.