I listened to the sounds of the person next to me, rather painfully, dry heaving over the airship, their hands tightly gripping the railing. My face winced in sympathy because I know not what feels worse, puking, or puking with an empty stomach.
I walk up to the suffering individual and start patting their back with a hand, hitting hard to try and penetrate their thick clothes. The person starts to relax under my efforts while panting, their dry heave session over. They lift their head and turn it to the right to look at me.
Bloodshot, teary cerulean eyes met my dark-chocolate ones. Short and scraggly blonde hair sat atop his head. The fellow teenager's face was flushed with exertion while spittle and snot leaked out of their respective orifices.
My eyes softened at his face. It's a pain to vomit, but to do it as many times as he did throughout the trip... Ouch.
'We should euthanize him. Free him from his condition.'
"Man, you really need to be more assertive over your bowels." I mutter while looking at him with worry.
He responds with a groan of agreement. The top half of his body dangles over the safety rail.
'Would anyone mind if we grab his legs and flip him over the edge?'
I take my hand off his back and lean against a nearby support pillar, cross my arms and feet, and close my eyes to try to take a nap...
"Excuse me." A feminine voice calls. So much for that.
I open my left eye and look to my nine o'clock and find a young teenage girl was looking at me. I open my other eye turn my head to take in more of her appearance.
Which is hiding behind a blood-red hooded cloak, leaving everything except her black combat boots to the imagination. The hood was up, making her childlike face and silver the only visible feature. What little hair I could see was colored a dark red. Two silver cross pins secure the cloak in place.
'Aw, so cute! Can we keep her?'
'Since you asked so nicely—no.'
'But she's the little sister I always wanted~.'
'And you're the little voice in my head that won't shut up.'
I've stalled enough, "Yes?" I question curiously.
"Is your friend going to be okay?" She asks, leaning to her left to look past me.
Still leaning on the wall, I look over my right shoulder to observe my friend. He was sitting down now, leaning against the safety rail with his legs stretched out and his arms limp. At least he managed to wipe his face clean.
I look back at the girl, "Once he starts moving with his own two feet, he'll be fine." I assure her.
Now she looks confused, "What do you mean?"
I gesture behind me, "See how the landscape is moving, yet we are standing still?"
She looks at the expanse of greenery. "Yeah, what about it?"
"He has motion sickness. What happens is that Juane's, that's his name, body doesn't like it when he's moving without using his legs. You get what I'm saying?"
"I think so. So he'll be fine once we land?" The girl asks as she looks at Jaune's slump form.
I get off the pillar and kneel next to him. "Just about. He took some anti-vomit medicine before we boarded, so he—" I was interrupted by loud gurgling noise coming from Jaune's stomach, both of his arms move to cradle it, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pain.
I had to jinx it...
"You alright, dude?" I question worriedly, changing position so I'm in front of him. He merely shakes his head while keeping his lips firmly pressed together.
"Ah hell, that medicine must've worn off. Come on, up you get." I gently lift Jaune to his feet and escort him to a bathroom.
Some yards later he trips over his own ankle, landing on his right side. Jaune gasps in pain, the action was all his stomach needed to eject his lunch all over an unfortunate girl's boots. She starts hopping around from one foot to the other trying to shake as much bile off as she can while loudly vocalizing her disgust.
"Ew ew ew ew!" and, "Get it off, get it off!" were the more cleaner phrases used.
"Oh no!" The black-and-red clad girl exclaims.
I look at the victim apologetically, "Miss, I am so sorry about that. Let me get something to clean that up. Hey, could you watch him for me?" I request the red girl, she nods.
As I move away, I see that a tiny crowd gathered over to the scene of the mess, one of them was laughing... I clench my fists as I glare at the tall boy.
'Punch him. Choke him. Do anything to shut him up.'
'I don't think I have to.'
"The fuck you laughing at, asshole?" Was the victim's demand at the guy. Forgetting or ignoring she is covered from knee-to-foot in puke, she marches up to him, her irises glowing a fierce red. The man backs away, stammering apologies and try to distance himself from her smell, yet the girl wouldn't have it.
'We're gonna witness a murder. Hey! Go back, I want to see!'
'I have to look for a mop.'
"So this is Beacon, huh?" I ask myself as I stand in front the airship's lowered ramp, gawking mostly at the academy's main attraction, the Beacon Tower. Dozens of students milled around me, some also staring at the facility or just looking to get inside it and get situated.
The latter group is missing out big time on the scenery: Many towers litter the landscape, their spired roofs stretching high into the cloudless sky. The main avenue that us newcomers walk on leads to the main entrance, which is a long ways away.
And last but not least, there is Beacon Tower, this academy's main landmark. Its seven spheres of green energy lazily bounce around their glass encasement. Call it Beacon Tower all you want, but that's Lava Lamp to me.
The brochures and its website both boast that the best Huntsmen in history trained at and graduated from Beacon Academy. Now, do I believe that statement? No, Haven Academy also has its share of amazing Huntsmen.
Funny how both the words "haven" and "beacon" go hand in hand, yet the schools named after them compete against each other so hotly that there's an event in the Vytal Festival just for that. Do both schools have a mascot, for example, Beacon's is Larry the lighthouse and Haven's is Sera the shield?
"Yep. The best Hunters and Huntresses started at this school, or, that's what Yang tells me." The girl I met earlier, Ruby, answers my verbal question from my three o'clock, her hands gripping her black book bag's shoulder straps. Yang was the girl that Jaune puked on.
Ruby told me that she and Yang are sisters. I don't see it.
"The best, eh? How'd you get enrolled?" I interrogate comically. The redhead shyly looks at her feet, weakly kicking the floor. Is she ashamed of what she did? Was the thing slash process illegal? It shouldn't be: A school this prestigious would not allow a criminal record holder into its student body...
"Excuse me." A female voice calls out from behind us impatiently. Either she is rude, or has the right to be because Ruby and I stand in the middle of the road.
Pulling Ruby with, I scuffle out of her way, then turn around to see the voice's owner.
You know when people say that man was born from dust? Well, this girl looks like she was born from snow. I mean her hair, clothes, pale skin, even the Dust-usable rapier sword on her right hip is colored white.
She has medium-length, platinum blonde hair that is tied in an off-centered bun and ponytail combo, and secured with a three prong, silver hair fork that's designed like a tiara.
What a mouthful...
Her right eye a fierce ice-blue, glaring forward as she walks with good posture. She's wearing a bolero jacket over a thigh length, strapless dress. In short, this girl's wardrobe looks expensive.
'That's Weiss Schnee, you doofus.'
'... Oops.'
"Holy crap, that's a lot of luggage." I whisper as I see a massive hotel luggage cart that is flank by two uniformed bellmen and being pushed by a bald old man in a black suit—whose legs just gave out. Good thing the cart was on a flat surface.
Dropping my duffle bag and shrugging off my backpack, I rush to the elderly man on his elbows and knees, Ruby's footfalls close behind.
"You alright, sir?" I ask him worriedly, helping him to his feet.
"I am alright, my boy. Nothing's broken. I'm just," He grunts as he straightens his knees, "sluggish these days..." He assures, his voice slightly muffled by his grey, mouth-covering mustache. Ruby starts dusting off his suit with her cloak.
"Don't rest too long, Jarvis. We need to get my things squared away before the introduction speech." Weiss nags the senior citizen from behind the cart.
"Of course, Miss Schnee." He replies politely while fixing his tie.
Okay, someone needs to tell this woman what's wrong with this picture.
I march around the cart to the Schnee whose arms were crossed and one of her heeled boots was tapping the ground. Seeing me getting close to her, she unfolds her arms, straightens herself, and lightens her glare to look calm and regal.
"Yes?" She questions, her tone sounding less than calm and regal.
Being this close to her let's me see how else she looks. For jewelry, she wears thin silver earrings and a silver necklace with a polished golden apple pendant. The jewelry looks nice and all, but my favorite feature of hers is her left eye.
A discolored, vertical line is stamped over it. The scar tissue starts from above her eyebrow, goes through the eyebrow, down the eye itself, then stops at her cheekbone. This makes the heiress look more intimidating in my book, like she would, for a poor example, rip the last cookie of the jar out of your hands instead of shrieking at you to give it to her.
I let her have it, "What the fuck is wrong with you? A weak old man is pushing that heavy cart, and all you can say about it is 'hurry up'! Why not have one the younger guys do it?" I yell while pointing at the bellmen, still looking at Weiss.
Little Miss Elsa's mouth hangs open in shock at either my boldness or vulgarity, maybe both.
I suddenly notice how quiet it is. I risk glancing left and see a great amount of wide-eyed stares in our direction. Ruby has both hands on her mouth. Jaune is a few meters behind her, his wheeled book bag's handle rests limply in his grasp. A cleaned up Yang looks at me and Weiss with excitement, probably hoping to see a fight.
I feel my body lean back, I return my gaze to the heiress, finding her sword tip almost slashing my face. I did say it was risky to look away from her.
She stops her blade from moving further than my shoulder, pulls back her sword, aims it and thrusts. I jump back to avoid getting a punctured lung or heart, landing on my back, then start frantically crab walking away.
She charges at me. I jump and kick at her, a gust of wind blasts forth from my feet and sends me tumbling many feet backwards.
I'm on my hands and knees, shaking my head to regain focus. I look up up at Weiss to see her blushing like mad while holding down her skirt.
'Ha! White on the outside, black on the inside!'
The grass that tickles my palms gives me an idea. I dig my right hand into the soft earth and pull out and clump as I slowly stand up, blades of grass and bits of dirt escape through my fingers.
I break into a sprint. Weiss, startled by this, readies her sword.
I sidearm pitch my clump at her. In response, she makes a hand gesture with her free hand and a large glyph in the shape of a snowflake stands in front of her. I think she anticipated my missile to move slower because the glyph forms behind my dirtball.
The object in question hits the expensively dressed female square in the face. My opponent stumbles back with a surprised yelp, trying to shake off the earth that now clings to her hair while wiping her face with her sleeve.
Not wanting to test the durability nor the properties of the snowflake glyph, I start moving to the right, passing it then slide to a crouch at Weiss's flank. Weiss faces me, her face smeared and expression livid. Her rapier's blade starts to glow an angry red.
I don't know what is a worse scenario, fighting bare-handed against a weapon or fighting bare-handed against a Dust-capable weapon.
I dash. The CEO's firstborn, with great willpower it seems, stays in place. When close enough, I launch my left fist at her face in a straight punch, she responds by putting her weapon in my fist's path.
They connect. The red glow dispels from my opponent's blade in a flame-like pattern as my fist violently bounces off it, the ever-annoying Pins and Needles sensation riding up my arm. Off balance and defenses down, Weiss Schnee sees fit to riposte.
So, Burn Dust can also be used defensively instead of, well, burning things...
It looks like Weiss is aiming for Victor's stomach. Luckily for the latter, I am not just a simple voice in his head.
Taking control of his motor skills, I reach out to the incoming sword with his right hand, wrap the fingers around the blade, grip tightly and push, my grip slides a bit before stopping the weapon centimeters short of its target and I use the new found traction to regain my footing. As painful as this is, I, being in control of Victor, have a higher pain tolerance than he does.
And given that Nature's Wrath, a more poetic name for Dust, is a major ingredient in morph-weapons crafting, and that a person's Semblance can let them do crazy things, moves like what I'm doing are death wishes.
Taking a moment to savor the flabbergasted face Ice Queen is making, I shake my left arm, the arm Vic punched with, to get some feeling back in and to wind up an attack. Once I feel my arm is awake enough, I yank the sword to the right then scoot forward.
My turn.
I launch Lefty at Weiss's chest in a palm strike, her chest dimly flashing a baby blue color as it hits. The musical sound of a crackling bone fills my ears as she is thrown backwards from my one-move-assault, landing on her front. Her rapier lies at my feet, steam rising from its blade.
Weiss groans as she attempts to get up. Her hand shoots to her chest from the amount of pain she must be in. Her breathing loud and labored, Weiss stares at me in shock.
I look at the weapon and pick it up with my left hand.
My blood's on the part that I grabbed. I bring my right hand into view. Yep, it's bleeding.
I focus on the hilt. there is a revolver's cylinder on top of it filled with different colors of Nature's Wrath. Four intricately designed prongs surround the cylinder, and a cocking hammer and trigger are located behind the cylinder.
'We've police sirens on our left. Thank God.'
My reaction to that statement was tossing the weapon to towards Weiss then turning my head to the direction stated. A few seconds later the crowd I'm looking at, most of them with their scrolls open and recording this fight, scrambles out of the way of two speeding golf carts that stop in between me and Weiss. The armored passengers of the lead cart get out of the vehicle and face me with firearms aimed and shouting for me to get down on the ground. I complied, yet I had to smile at this, like they can do much against me.
'Might want to rethink that because I see men head-to-toe in armor, armed with guns, and that I have one usable hand!'
'Oh, ye of minute faith. You have a power that none present have experienced. Well, except Weiss.'
'Do I have to spell it out for you? I. Am. Dead!'
As Victor continues to panic, the tallest of the armored quintet slowly approaches me in a combat stance, his comrades ready to shoot if I try anything. "Hands behind your back." He orders. Keeping my elbows straight, I slowly swing my arms from above my head to behind my back. The guard kneels on my right, keeping me pinned with his arms.
"Do you have any weapons on you?" He asks.
"No."
Either the man didn't believe me or just wants to make sure, he rifles through my pants pockets. I hear the metallic jingle of handcuffs securing my wrists a moment after that. Hoisting me to my feet by the scruff of my neck, the heavily armored man leads me to his golf cart. The second golf cart's passengers were tending to my opponent with medical bags at their sides.
While most people can pick the lock or break the cuffs, Victor's Semblance allows him to get get out of these in a timely manner. Now what I have to do is position... my fingers... in a way that... there! The cuffs are starting to get chapped, and the longer I concentrate the more corroded the handcuffs will be until...
"Well-done-detaining-the-young-man-officer. I'll-take-him-off-your-hands." A man speaks incomprehensibly quickly while appearing in front of me.
What was imposing about him was his height, easily a foot taller than Victor. Maybe even matching the guard holding me.
'Uh, what'd he say?'
'He said he'll take us away instead of these clowns.'
"Understood, Doctor. Though it would be safer that one of us accompanies you to your destination." My 'handler' suggests, keeping his grip on my neck. Oh goody, I must be his first arrest in a long while at this school.
The doctor looks at me, his brown eyes search deep into mine. I realize that this elder can subdue me with little effort, even with Victor's powers.
The man takes a drink from his green vacuum flask."I'm-certain-he-won't-be-a-problem-anymore. The-Headmaster-wishes-to-speak-with-him-and-it-wouldn't-be-welcoming-if-he-were-to-arrive-in-chains."
My escort releases my neck, allowing me to finally stand up straight. I roll my neck as I wait for the handcuffs to... shit!
"You sure he won't be a problem, sir?" The riot trooper asks suspiciously as he pivots me around to show the doctor my handiwork.
'Heh, handiwork.'
"Whatever he did rusted the locks so much that I can't fit the key. He's stuck."
There was a long silence before the doctor speaks, his tone contemplative, "Young man, what is your name?"
'Finally, I can understand him!'
'Should I tell him?'
'Hmm? Oh, go ahead.'
"Victor Paul." I murmur.
"And you did this to the handcuffs?"
I nod.
He looks at the armored man, "Again, I thank you for subduing him. Come along now, Victor, we have things to do and people to see."
"Good riddance." I mutter to myself as I finish rusting the other handcuff off, the remains crumple apart on the floor next to me.
The journey to wherever the professor has in store was quiet until I spoke up. Oobleck insisted I follow him right away, meaning I had to leave my bags behind.
"I was wondering when you were going to finish removing the restraints." Oobleck states, eyes still glued to his scroll. How he still manages to not collide into anything is impressive.
Wait. When, finish?
"So you saw what was I doing earlier?" I ask.
"Not precisely. I suspected you would try something and decided to prevent you from doing so."
My my, grandma, what incredible foresight you have.
"Say, is Ozpin's office coming up anytime soon?" I ask a tad impatiently, we've been walking for what feels like a long time.
"Ozpin will see you at his earliest convenience. Because of that, you should have your hand treated." He says the last sentence with urgency and quickens his pace.
Keeping in step I try to remove my damaged glove to get a good look at... my... wound...
"Hey, am I gonna be sitting next to Weiss?"
He either doesn't hear me or ignores me.
"C'mon, it's a yes or no question." I plead.
As soon as we entered the infirmary, the Professor started calling out for a doctor to treat me, once one showed up the Professor told her the types of injuries I had as well as the instruments needed to treat them.
As she sets off to get the items, Oobleck ushers me into a vacant room to wait. Once the doctor came back with a box full of the items, Oobleck took his leave, saying he'll take me to the auditorium once I'm done here.
The doctor guides me to the room's sink and turns it on. Once she finds an ideal temperature, she has me put my right hand under the running water. The cool, relaxing water changes color as blood drips into the sink.
"Nice ink you got there." My caretaker compliments, noting the dark-enough-to-be-black blue arrow tattoo that starts on my hand, travels down the forearm, and curls around the elbow to the underside of my arm.
"Thanks. Oh, uh, could you not write about this in your report, please." I ask sheepishly.
"Mum's the word. Keep your hand under there for ten minutes, then I'll patch it up."
After the ten minute soak, the doc applies an ointment to the burn and wraps the area in gauze.
"Not used to getting burns, eh?" My faunus doctor quips. I'm guessing she is a faunus from the way her talons for fingers deftly bandage the cuts on my fingers.
"First time getting one. I can say that this is more complicated to treat than a cut."
"Yes it is, so do avoid Burn Dust whenever possible if you don't want this to be a repeat thing."
"I'll try. I'm Victor." I greet I slide off the bed.
She responds warmly, "Phoenix. Now, here is how you'll change the dressing..." She then talks me through the process while putting the ingredients into a large Ziploc bag in order of use. The last item she puts in is a list of said process.
I ask why the paper, and Phoenix's answer is rather smug, "You might forget. I hope you won't treat your injury as something that can be fixed with the use of Aura. Sure, Aura can accelerate the healing process, but it can't start an antibiotic's job. Aura isn't first aid. Aura is Aura, first aid is first aid. One can't solve the other's problems, Oum almighty!"
... I'm just gonna backpedal out of here as slowly and as quietly─Uh oh, now the doctor faces me with a warning glare, "Victor, come back to infirmary after you change the dressing for the second time so I can check the burn's progress. Better yet, keep the previous dressings to let me know that you actually changed them." She orders.
I nodded vigorously and left the room, too scared to say bye.
With my new items in uninjured hand, I make my way to the sparsely populated waiting area and take a seat.
Waiting.
... Waiting.
I pull out my pocket scroll and check the time: 16:32.
'He was going to meet up with us, right?'
'Yes. What's keeping him?'
'Let's find out.'
I close my eyes and focus on breathing.
Now, even with my eyes closed, I can visualize everything and everyone surrounding me.
Let me explain. My Semblance revolves around air manipulation, which I discovered can let me do many, many things.
Like what I'm doing now, mapping out an entire area in a 360 degree sphere of detection, or in this instance mapping the entire infirmary from floor to ceiling to find Oobleck.
This "echolocation" ability allows me to be aware of everything, so I can react to anything. What I see while this power is active isn't as detailed as you would think. They all look like a 3D silhouette of themselves, and I can only distinguish those that I have encountered beforehand, like people, objects and shapes. I can see that lamp on the receptionist's desk but I cannot tell if it is on or not, nor what color it is.
Oh, Oobleck is in the bathroom. Mission accomplished.
'Hello... What's this?'
'What's what?'
'Look over here.'
I feel my head turn to the right. Sections of the map my head now faces disappear until I only see one room and its three occupants.
The one figure I recognize is Weiss Schnee, laying on the room's gurney. Her jewelry was removed yet her hairstyle was the same, and her bare body covered by a hospital gown. She was hooked up to a few machines. Her head was down and her face was glum.
A doctor, from his lab coat and stethoscope, was standing next to a wall, pinning a sheet of paper next to two others on a rectangular protrusion. He gestures to the papers while talking to the last man.
The last man was a weird one, in his left hand was a mug full of steaming liquid, his right hand holds a cane. The cane had a trigger mechanism in it, with the trigger looking not like a gun's, but a lever's. His glasses's circular lenses were too small to be practical. Maybe his glasses aren't even prescription.
The man's face held a curious frown as he listens to the doctor prattle on about Weiss's chest wound, his head directed at the pictures. After the doctor finishes talking, the cane wielder approaches Weiss from her right side while speaking to her, his expression unchanged.
She looks away from him for a moment as if to think on what to say. She looks back and answers him, her expression unsure. Too-small-glasses, keeping his head pointed at Weiss as she talks, takes a drink from his mug.
'Oobleck is leaving the bathroom.'
Sure enough, the Professor's head swivels around in search of me. All the silhouettes fade to black as I deactivate my ability. I open my eyes, the color of my natural vision blinds me for a moment. Nearby voices and the TV's sounds reach my ears. One voice catches my attention.
"I see your hand has been treated." Oobleck notes happily.
"Instead of a lollipop, I got a do-it-yourself kit. What happens now?" I ask as I get on my feet and follow him.
"We head for the auditorium."
Not ten seconds after I enter the auditorium, my ears are massacred with questions and comments by a bunch of students.
"Holy shit, that was awesome!"
"Please don't hurt me."
"You broke through her Aura. How?"
"Are you bald?"
The last question's owner got all up in my space, pointing at my customized black skull cap. When I recovered from her invasion, I replied with a curt, "No."
"Oh, OK." Seemingly satisfied with that one question, the orange-haired girl turns around and skips away.
'What a weird girl.'
'What a fine ass.'
"Are you bald?" Someone else asks, keeping their distance.
"No! A different question would be nice." I call out to my personal mob.
Sometime in the middle of the interview, a noise of microphone feedback grows to uncomfortable volumes, effectively shutting up the audience. I look at the stage to see the cane-man from the infirmary standing in front of the mic, his mug absent.
"Hello, everyone," He greets, sounding bored. "I'll... keep this brief. You have traveled here today in search of knowledge, to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people.
"But I look amongst you and all I see is wasted energy in need of purpose, direction... You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far... It is up to you to take the first step." His speech over, he walks away from the mic.
A blonde woman that was standing behind him takes her turn, "You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Due to a complication, the initiation is postponed until further notice." She speaks calmly.
"A complication? We all seen what that complication is. Weiss Schnee got her ass beat!" Someone from my crowd calls out. I just had to facepalm at his—Ow, shit, wrong hand!
The whole audience murmurs in agreement. Some of the people actually applaud me. Sure, I won a fight with the rich kid, but the rich kid has parents. Powerful parents that can respond to my win with hostility.
The lady at the mic hesitates, "Yes, that did happen. But we do not know the full extent of her injuries. So until we do, the initiation is postponed. You are all dismissed."
Lights out happened five minutes ago, yet people were still awake with the help of candles and chatting about nothing in particular, or about me. The ballroom was sporting dark, calming colors and a carpeted floor. Sleeping bags and pajama-clad people littered the room.
And then there's me, back against a corner, away from all others despite how famous I got in the span of hours. I can't imagine how tomorrow will be. All the students and their friends are most likely wondering/commenting/hypothesizing about how I beat the heiress with one attack.
Enough of that. I'll deal with whatever arises once it actually does.
I pull out a tiny bag from my pants pocket. Putting my hand in it, I bring my hand to my face and use my teeth to remove the bag.
In my hand were yellow marbles. Each marble has a different black-line design on them, like a spiral or a plus sign. One by one the little spheres floated upwards to eye level, forming a vertical circle. Then I had them start spinning.
The circle was spinning so fast now that it looks like it is spinning backwards. If I were to let go, the marbles would separate due to centripetal force and embed themselves into the floor, walls and ceiling.
I stopped spinning them to change the shape. Now two plus signs were lazily orbiting each other while rotating in the opposite direction.
'Hey, listen to this.'
The noise starts quieting down until all I can hear are two voices.
"... for my little sister." The first voice cheers.
"I'm not hungry, Yang." The next voice, Ruby, deadpans.
"But they're chocolate chip." Yang sings. A plastic bag rustles in emphasis.
"Not hungry." Ruby repeats.
"Okay, what is it?" Yang interrogates, her tone serious.
"It's nothing."
"Don't 'It's nothing' me. You turned down choco chip, your favorite. You could say something's eating at you." Seriously, a food pun?
"Seriously, a food pun?" Ruby echoes. "... It's Victor."
What about me? I drop my marbles single file into the bag, tie it, then look in the sisters' direction.
"What about him? Did he do anything to you? If he did, I'll kick his ass so ha-" Yang starts to get up, going up to one knee before being halted by her sister.
"No!" Ruby objects loudly, making me wince. "He did nothing! It's just his fight with the white girl made him look scary."
Yang starts looking around the room for me. Finally spotting me still in my corner, she grins at me. Oh no.
"Well then, let's make him not scary." Yang stands and walks toward my position. two paces later she stops and looks behind her.
"Ruby, let go. You look silly." She chides.
I stand up to get a better view. Ruby is hugging Yang's right leg, yet it did not look like Yang had any trouble walking.
"No! I won't let you hurt him!" Ruby begs.
"I promise I won't punch him or anything. Sister's honor." Blondie, well, promises as she holds up three fingers with her thumb on her pinkie.
"You better. He's my first friend at Beacon." The last sentence was barely audible.
Hnnnng!
My ear pick up noise on there own again as my "audio bug" ability turns off.
Yang helps Ruby to her feet, puts a comforting arm around her shoulder, and continues walking my way.
"Hey, Victor. Or should I call you One Hit Vic?" Yang greets as the duo gets close enough, placing her hands on her hips.
"Only if I can call you Boobs McKenzie." I counter-offer with a smirk, my dark-chocolate eyes locked onto her lilac ones.
Yang quizzically looks down at her delightfully massive chest in response. I follow her gaze—and revert it because her nipples were noticeable under her orange tank-top.
'You are missing out, man.'
'I'm trying to have her not hate me.'
'Oh well.'
She looks back at me, frowning as she does it. Her iris color changes to that scary shade of red from earlier.
My first day on campus and I already have two fights under my belt. Yeah...
"You wanna repeat that?" She threatens quietly.
"Yang! What did we just agree on?" Ruby whispers from the side. I keep my attention on the threat in front of me.
"Since you wanted to give me a name, I thought it would be fair to give you one as well." I reply with my face blank and voice level.
I never wanted the fight with Weiss, nor the one that might happen now.
'Knock her out. Subject her to life support. Cripple her. Kill her.'
Survive.
My threat's face breaks into a smile and her irises return to their purple color. Her arms cross under her breasts.
"Yeah, I guess that's fair. So, you're a boob man?" She asks whimsically as she puffs out her chest a bit.
"Yan—" Went Red.
"Shush yer face. The grownups are talking." Yellow interrupts her with a finger.
"I can say that they are my favorite parts of your body, second and third to you face. Although I can't say what my favorite thing about Yang is since, you know, we just met." I answer honestly. I was staring at her eyes throughout the whole answer, not taking any of that bait.
'Come on, let me have a squeeze. They're right there!'
"Aw, that's sweet of you." The busty beauty praises me with just a tinge of sarcasm hidden in her voice, an impressive feat really, her fingers messing with her long golden hair. "Well... since we have all this time, why don't you and I get to know each other a little more?" She suggests while invading my personal space with bedroom eyes. This is a test. This is definitely a test.
'Hell yeah! Home base, here we come!'
"If it's anything like the 'wink-wink nudge-nudge' get-to-know-each-other, then no." I declare. Test passed.
'You son of a bitch!'
Yang backs off with a satisfied smile, "Great! How about we work out the details after breakfast?"
I shrug nonchalantly, "Sure. As you said, we have all this time. What say you? Are you fine with your sister and I 'getting to know each other'?" I ask Ruby with air quotes.
"... I just wanted her to not hit you." She replies, wide-eyed at what she witnessed. Yang's eyes light up at an idea.
"That's it! After we eat, we burn the calories with a few rounds in the ring. Waddya say?" She smiles gleefully.
I slowly raise my bandaged right hand for her to see. Her happiness dies.
"Oh..."
"How bad is it?" Ruby asks worriedly as she gets a closer look.
"First degree burns on the palm and a deep laceration on all fingers and thumb." I point at the areas while I explain, "Doc says it'll take around three days for the burn to heal. Cuts are cuts, so I don't have pay them much attention when I change this."
"You make your bandage sound like a diaper." Yang chuckles. Ruby gags at the joke.
I glare at her, "You know what, I'ma call you pisshead for that."
"Good one, Vicky." She counters.
... She did not just call me that.
"That does it. You, me, after breakfast, we fight." I finalize by punching my palm.
I groan as pain flares from it. Yang guffaws at my blunder.
"Would you shut up? We're trying to sleep!" A voice demands.
"Think you can take me with one hand?" Yang taunts, her volume low.
'That's what she said.'
"I've taken on people with only my legs. But that wouldn't be fair."
"No, it wouldn't." She sympathizes.
"For you."
Ruby and Yang look surprised at my confidence. Yang grins.
"Come on, Ruby, let's go to bed." Yang moves away, Ruby mutters a 'be careful' before following her sister.
It's nice knowing people that don't want me hurt.
I slide down to the floor, put on my neck pillow, and await sleep.
Author's Notes:
The character "Victor Paul" and story "Distance is Futile" are owned by Mr-Dr-Prof Sweetness.
The franchise "RWBY" is owned by Rooster Teeth.
Beta-read by ThePhantomScribe. I recommend reading his current RWBY story "The Gamer Girl".