A man, long of limb and long of body, entered a small Dust shop by the name of "Dust and Echoes." His pale skin matched blood red hair, slicked back. Sunken maroon eyes gazed at the shelves disinterestedly. He wore a white dress shirt, partially hidden beneath a black blazer with red accents. Black slacks met black dress shoes.
Upon his arrival, other patrons of the store began shuffling uneasily. The redhead exuded an aura of danger. He wandered from aisle to aisle nonchalantly, observing the merchandise with critical eyes. Soon, he stopped in front of the counter, staring the shopkeeper in the eyes.
As soon as the man stopped sauntering about, fifteen individuals -both men and women- stormed into the shop in rank and file. All wore a red long sleeve shirt under a black combat vest, a black mask with a white trimmed red hood, black cargo pants, and black combat boots with red laces and white soles. Hanging from the belt of all but one was a shotgun with a blade on the barrel, as well as a holster containing a pistol with no attachments. The final one carried a large white satchel as well as a flare gun and RPG launcher. This group formed three rows of five in front of the doors.
"Anyone who values their life," The red haired man drawled, his deep, smooth voice drawing the attention of the customers, "Would be wise to leave." When no one moved, he added, "Now."
One young man let out a short laugh. "Or what? You'll…" His gaze drifted over the armed soldiers. "Kill us?"
"Yes," The redhead replied without a moment's hesitation. "Anyone who does not leave will be shot."
As if to emphasize his point, the uniformed men and women drew their shotguns in synchronized fashion. It was impossible to say for certain what they were thinking, for the masks covered the soldier's entire faces.
That same young man looked at the soldiers, then at the red haired man. "You're kidding, right?"
"No, I am not." One soldier broke rank and whispered something to the redhead. "Thank you. You have exactly twenty seconds to decide whether or not you trust my words."
As the soldier returned to the formation, the gathered crowd shifted uneasily. Whispers and accusations flew around for a solid ten seconds. Fear took over, and everyone except for the rebellious young man and the shopkeeper fled in terror.
"I'm calling your bluff," The young man grinned.
The clerk kept his silence.
"Your funeral," the redhead replied. He pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it. "Five seconds."
"My funeral, my ass!"
The last few seconds ticked by rather slowly.
The redhead glanced at a pocketwatch. "You're out of time," he commented, a sick smile on his face.
"Just in time to show ever- AAAAAUGH!"
The young man's next words dissolved into senseless howling as five slugs tore through his body at once, shredding his torso and internal organs. He was dead before he touched the ground. The clerk cowered behind his counter.
"Show everyone what?" The redhead laughed. "Go take anything that might be useful," he ordered. As the soldiers leaped into action, he rounded the counter to where the shopkeeper hid. "You should have run when you had the chance."
He drew a wicked pistol from within his blazer. The jet black revolver had a blade on the barrel, long and thin like it's owner. He pointed this at the base of the storekeeper's skull.
"Please, just take what you want and go quietly," the man whimpered.
"We shall do just that," the redhead sneered. He pulled the trigger, the hammer snapping forward to ignite the bullet and launch it through the man's head. "It would be bad for business if we left you alive, though."
Tucking the ebony pistol back in his blazer, the redhead strolled out of the store. Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing nearer with each passing second. He smirked as fourteen of the fifteen soldiers marched out of Dust and Echoes, carrying everything from ammunition and Dust to gasoline and magazines. They had almost looted the whole store. Two large cargo trucks were filled, one with the stolen items and the other with the soldiers. The fifteenth, the one with the satchel, ran out of the store, leaping up into the truck.
The crimson eyed man leisurely climbed into the passenger seat of one such truck. At the wheel sat a portly man, his shaggy maroon hair framing a shapeless face holding one red eye, and one black eye. He wore a red dress shirt tucked into black slacks, with black square toed shoes.
"How went the heist?" The walleyed man wondered. His baritone voice, even deeper than that of the one who led the heist, rumbled throughout the cab as the truck itself rumbled to life.
"It was as smooth as crushed velvet," the redhead replied. "There were only two deaths. And no interfering do-gooders this time, either."
"Ah ha ha ha ha ha! I'd expect nothing less of my older brother!"
"Please, get driving already. I'd rather avoid making this a bigger news story via high-speed chase and police massacre."
"You're no fun," the massive man pouted.
None the less, he eased the massive grey truck out onto the street. The second followed closely behind. Moments following, as the behemoth vehicles drove away, Dust and Echoes lit up behind them like a methane vent.
"So what did we haul out this time?"
"Dust and ammo, mostly," the lanky man replied. "Some more cheap food, and a healthy supply of magazines and simple entertainment."
"In this business, people will take pleasure in anything that isn't work," the giant chuckled.
"Such is the same for any business."
"I suppose."
Silence dominated the cab of the truck for some time. Traffic thinned on the winding streets until naught but the two trucks remained on the road, for they had entered a run down region of the city. Few came here but ruffians, gangs, and criminals. Few even of they came, for rumours abounded that the place was haunted by a ghost inhabiting a suit of armour, incinerating any who dared to enter. Despite the best efforts of the law, this rumour could be neither confirmed nor denied.
A warehouse opened up, inviting the two trucks into its cavernous interior. They parked in the far right corner, at which point a hidden camera identified them. The floor descended on well oiled wheels, a second platform closing the gap as soon as the tops of the trucks were clear. To any foolish enough to give chase to these trucks, it would appear that they entered the warehouse and vanished into thin air.
Down, down, and further down yet dropped the platform. After a minute or so, the speed indicated only by the lights flitting by above, the platform finally came to a halt. In front of the cargo trucks opened up a massive cave, lit by halogen lights in the roof and criss-crossed by all manner of catwalks. Square buildings filled the walls floor to ceiling, some even serving as pillars. Humans and faunus, the majority of whom were in good physical condition, milled about, all walking with a purpose. Some wore a uniform identical -slightly modified to accommodate the faunus- to those that joined the heist. Others walked about in casual clothing, as if they were merely citizens of the world above.
Both trucks rolled off and backed into a bay, at which point a horde of thirty uniformed men and women went about securing the hatches and unloading the cargo, as well as greeting and congratulating the returning soldiers.
"Good to be back," the fat man laughed as he climbed down from the cab of the truck. "To think that I was beginning to miss this place… AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Indeed," the lankier brother commented. "'Tis a comfort to be here, now. Almost impossible to believe that despite the ten year construction time, no one found this place. And now, no one shall."
"Don't get cocky. With each little excursion, we run a higher risk of being discovered," the younger brother cautioned.
"True enough. Come, let us see what progress has been made on the Plate."
The two men walked towards the center pillar-tower. The took an elevator to the thirteenth floor, where a group of scientists swarmed about a grey-brown triangular monolith, the one side of which was covered in ancient runes. Holoscreens and whiteboards covered in indecipherable writing plastered every wall.
In the center of the white-coat sanctuary stood a man with the scaly ridges and merciless eyes of a crocodile. He wore a purple dress shirt with a dark violet, lavender, and silver argyle tie, a black dress vest, black slacks, and brown square toed shoes. He carried with him a sense of calm, calculating authority. In his hand was a scroll, on it a single word, written in bold capital letters.
TWIN.
The scaled man turned to greet his new guests. "Ah! Mister and Master Payne! What a delight to have you here," he greeted. His voice, scratchy and uneven as it was, dripped with respect.
"Greetings, doctor," the taller brother replied. "How do you fare?"
"Well, well! We have made progress! A single word has been translated thus far!"
The elder Payne smiled warmly. "Excellent. I'll have a bottle of whiskey brought up for your team. I'd have you back to work on other projects though. The Plate may be fascinating, but that is all at the moment."
The doctor bowed his head. "As you wish, sir."
A smile full of sharp teeth open on his face, the crocodile faunus stepped out of the lab and into the elevator. The doors closed without a sound.
"Twin, huh?" The fat man glanced up at his older brother. "Twin what?"
"Could be anything. Let's just leave it to the researchers. Come, let's be off."
The two took the stairs down, discussing all manner of things. At the bottom, the elder brother caught an older man and sent him to fetch the whiskey for the researchers.
The two sat in a lounge on the third floor, and flicked on a television. An evening news report was playing at the moment, and the event of choice was none other than the raid on Dust and Echoes. The brothers were there just in time to watch the full report.
"At exactly noon today, the community Dust and General store Dust and Echoes exploded," the reporter began. "Eyewitness reports state that fifteen armed assailants and one apparently armed individual entered the store ten minutes before the blast. The ringleader, this man here," A picture of the elder brother appeared on screen, though blurry and distorted, "Delivered this ultimatum; 'Anyone who values their life would be wise to leave now.' Shortly after the patrons escaped the store, five loud reports were heard from within, then a sixth. Shortly after, witnesses claim that the building was looted, then detonated."
"They sure got a lot of accurate details," the younger brother commented.
"Police reports state that there were two casualties; A young man, shot five times through the torso, and the shop's owner, shot once through the back of the head. No suspect has yet been identified, nor has any of the stolen merchandise been recovered. Law enforcement assumes the local gang, the Primals, to be responsible. Investigations are underway. This has been Emily Ivory, signing off."
The feed went to commercials.
"See what I mean?" The younger brother asked. "You can't get arrogant. They're getting better."
"Yes, brother, I see what you mean."
I would like to apologize to my readers, as I am giving this story a complete overhaul. The main character was flat, the plot was inconsistent, the other characters didn't get fleshed out, and it just felt bleh. I'm going to try and make this run around far better in every manner.
As always, please leave a review. It's greatly appreciated. Anyways, I don't know how regularly I'll be uploading, so please be patient. The other chapters will be longer than this.
Until next time.