Inner Monologue: Wait, is it pretentious to write "trailers" for my own OC's? Can fanfics even have trailers? Ah, screw it, I'm writing them anyway.
AN: Hello, and welcome to the first anything that I have written in a very long time, Mirrored Eyes. This is something that I've had stewing in my head for a while now, so I figured I'd stop thinking about it and actually write it. I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to give feedback.
Full disclaimer, this is completely unrelated to the Mark Zhang trailers. It just so happened that nothing really fit better than "Silver".
While the path behind can be observed by all, only blinded eyes may gaze ahead
Snow fell across the lonely village that lie hours northwest of the capital city of Vale. The streets were quiet, the residents already gone in for the night in wake of the upcoming storm. Streets that were normally bustling with people lay vacant, and the shops that were usually open and full of shopkeeps boasting their wares were closed, their doors bolted shut and their shutters closed and locked from within.
In the town square, in front of a statue of an armored man holding a strange two-bladed sword at his side, sat what looked to be the only resident of the town that still stirred. He was a young man, only barely old enough to be called a man at all. A mottled grey cloak draped over his shoulders, and a matching strip of cloth covered his eyes. Snow clung to his sandy brown hair, as his pale fingers strummed the guitar he held against his chest. A small fire was lit beside him, illuminating him and the small box in front of him that held a few spare lien.
It would have seemed that the boy would have sat their all night strumming his guitar, if not for the otherwise silent air was broken by the sound of boots crunching the new fallen snow. The boy shifted, but otherwise did not react as six individuals walked through the entrance and through the streets of the eerily still town. They were dressed identically, emerald hooded robes with golden lining draped over their black tunics. Their faces were hidden by purple veils adorned with a single red eye surrounded by silver markings.
The figures walked through the empty streets slowly and deliberately, until they stood before the boy strumming his guitar. The boy did nothing to acknowledge their presence. Instead, he changed the tune he was playing and began to sing a slow, almost remorseful melody.
They see you as small and helpless
They see you as just a child
Surprise when they find out that a warrior will soon run wild…
The front most figure cleared her throat, causing the boy to stop playing.
"Oh, good evening miss," he said, an apologetic smile playing across his lips, "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you approach. Would you like me to play you a song? Only five lien will get you a request."
The woman chuckled, a low, seductive sound that almost sent shivers up the young man's spine.
"No, dear child, I'm afraid we've come to speak with the mayor of this dear town," the woman said, her voice an almost unnaturally smooth. "You see, we are priests from the Order of Helius, and he agreed to meet us here so we could come so that we would discuss his monthly…donation."
The boy cocked his head, "Helius, as in the Vacuo God of the Sun?"
The woman nodded her head, "The same. We are her acolytes, and we spread her warmth to all that welcome her light."
"Interesting," the boy said thoughtfully, before shrugging his shoulders, "Unfortunately it's just me tonight. You see, apparently this town's been having some trouble with bandits of late. They were expecting them to show up tonight, and were hoping I could help sort them out. Tell me…" his voice lowered as he raised his face towards the group, "…you didn't see them on your way here, did you?"
The woman said nothing, but her hand slowly moved for the dagger behind her back. The boy tilted his head, and if it weren't for the pieces of clothe obscuring both of their eyes, she would have sworn his were staring into hers.
"I don't like your aura," he said accusingly. "It shivers of malice and greed."
The woman's body lurched forward as she drew her dagger and drove it towards the boy that dared insult her. The boy was too quick however, her blade digging into the ground as he leapt into the air.
The priests saw him land on the statues pedestal but quickly scattered as shots flew in their direction. They dodged and weaved around the potshots until they stopped coming. Once the cultists regained their senses, they looked up at their attacker as he rose to stand at full height.
The cloak and blindfold had been discarded, revealing a huntsman wearing a silver thigh length coat with black shoulder pads and grey accents sewn into them draped over a purple shirt. He sported black pants and grey shoes, but the most striking feature about him was the pair of black-rimmed glasses he wore bearing mirrored lenses that shined in the moonlight that had begun to peek through the clouds.
In his hands, the boy held a pair of large, black, box shaped handguns. With a flick of his wrist, the body of the guns snapped upwards, blades that appeared to be folded in half extending from the barrels as the back half of the blades flipped forward and clicked into place on top, turning the guns into a pair of khopesh swords.
"That's the problem with using fear to rule over others," the young man said, an air of authority now in his voice. "Given enough time, they grow tired of it, and decide to fight back."
One of the priests, a shorter man with a pair of tusks poking out from under his veil, gave a small chuckle.
"So what, you're supposed to be their champion or something?" he chortled. "A wannabe huntsman who's not even old enough to cross the street alone? Give us a break, kid, you're both outnumbered and outmatched."
The silver-garbed huntsman smiled, "If you say so."
The tusked priest pulled a small gun from his belt and released a hail of fire dust shots at the boy. The shots met only steel, as the huntsman deflected the flaming bolts with ease. A battle cry alerted him to a priest diving towards him from the left, her spear driving towards his head. He dove to the ground out of her way and immediately raised his sword to block the leader's dagger before it met his throat.
The sound boots crunching snow alerted him to the rest of the group rushing him. He immediately swung upwards at the leader, causing her to leap backwards and leaving him open to deflect a blow from the largest priest, who wielded a heavy axe. The huntsman managed to push him back and kicked his foot out behind him, driving it into the stomach of the spear-wielder that had jumped from the statue and tried to rush him from behind him. A loud 'oomph' was pushed from her lips as she was slammed against the stone pedestal behind her.
Not given a second to think, the duel wielder dove under the combined retaliation of the leader and axe-wielder. Leaping to his feet, he collapsed his weapons into their gun forms and fired at the three remaining cultists behind them. The one to his right, the one with tusks, dove behind a barrel in front of the nearest building and started firing back. The one to his left, a petite woman, took cover around the corner of the building next to her. The huntsman saw the middle one, a tall, but lean man, try to raise his aura in time to absorb the shot flying straight for his chest. He was too slow, however, and the wind-dust bolt struck him square in the chest, causing the bandit to fly backwards, landing hard on the street where he lay unmoving.
"Onyx!" the tusked priest called out. Enraged, he jumped from behind the barrel and rushed towards his opponent, firing madly as he screamed.
The huntsman charged at the cultist, quickly switching his weapons to their khopesh forms. He deflected the fire dust charges that flew in his direction, the sounds behind him confirming that the other three were close on his tail.
The tusked priest's weapon clicked as he was mere feet away from the silver-garbed fighter. He threw it to the side and dove at his enemy arms outstretched, clearly intending to strangle him. At the last minute, the huntsman dropped to his knees, sliding under the faunus poised to attack him.
As if in slow motion, the priest watched as the huntsman slid underneath him. As the tusked faunus landed in front of his companions he looked back and barely had time to register the small object that hand been left in the huntsman's wake before it exploded in their faces. The cultists all cried out it pain as a blinding white flash filled their vision, instantly robbing them of their sight.
The huntsman leaped to his feet, ready to charge the stunned group. He acted too rashly, however, as he failed to dodge largest cultist's axe as he swung it blindly in front of him. The large blade caught him square in the chest, causing to go flying into the middle of the street. His aura had managed to keep the blade from cleaving him in two, but it still drove the breath from his lungs.
Struggling to get up, he managed to get a solid footing just in time to hear the leader shout "Vetra, now!"
The huntsman whipped his head around and saw the petite cultist come from behind the building. Her sleeves had been rolled up to reveal a pair of black gloves with white lines etched into them. The young man raised his blades in a defensive stance as a large blast of wind barreled towards him. The cold seeped into his skin as the gust tore through him, the fresh-fallen snow forming a cloud around him. Above the wind, he managed to make out the sound of the bandit leader barking orders at her men, directing them to various positions around him.
Despite the cold typhoon still assaulting him, the huntsman allowed himself a small smile.
They didn't take the hint before?
Slowly, the silver-garbed warrior rose to his feet and calmed his breathing. The cultists may not have had the advantage that they believed themselves to have, but if he wanted to end this soon, he would have to do this right. Placing himself in a defensive stance, he braced himself and waited.
He didn't have to wait long, as through the thick blanket of swirling snow, an arc of fireballs flew towards him. He managed to deflect the one that threatened to strike him, then immediately turned to face the spear-wielder that had charged from behind him. He used one of his weapons to parry the attack, while he collapsed the other into its gun form and fired it point blank into her chest. She cried out as she flew back into the wall of snow.
Without missing a step, the huntsman dropped to the ground, firing his gun at the legs of the axe-wielder that had charged at him from his right. The priest cried out in pain as he dropped towards the ground, but was met halfway down with an uppercut from the butt of the huntsman's sword.
Putting both weapons into their gun modes, the spectacled youth leaped to his feet and fired short bursts to his left and right. The wind immediately died down, and the snow settled to reveal both Vetra and the faunus priest on the ground, crying in pain from the wounds in their shoulders.
The huntsman sighed, but started when he heard a cry of anger erupt from behind him. He spun around and was met with the shoulder of the leader driven into his chest. He lost his grip on his weapons as he crashed to the ground, groaning in pain. The head cultist stabbed wildly at him, but he managed to roll away and swing his leg at her face, his foot catching on her veil and tearing it from her, revealing the face of a tan-skinned face with crimson eyes that were now burning with hatred. He managed to get to his feet but she managed to connect a blow to the side of his head with the hilt of her dagger, sending his glasses flying. She swung at him again but he caught her arm and twisted it, causing her to drop the dagger and cry out in pain.
Her face was twisted in anger as she slowly sank to the ground. Her crimson eyes shot up to meet his, but when they did, her anger turned to stark terror. Her companions, the one's still conscious, looked up to see their leader screaming out in horror as the huntsman's eyes bore into her.
Without breaking eye contact, the huntsman rose to his feet, and struck the head priestess straight in the face, knocking her out cold. Without a word, he retrieved his weapons and sunglasses. Placing the latter back on his face, he turned to face the rest of the bandits. He had never seen auras filled with such fear as he did with them.
"So," he said with an almost casual tone, "Anyone else?"
# # #
The townsfolk cheered as the bandits were led away in chains. Children played in the snow as their parents looked on in happiness. Near the town square, the young huntsman listened with amusement as a pair of children played fetch with their dog using snowballs.
A tall woman with greying hair and piercing blue yes approached him, a small stack of lien in her hands.
"Five thousand lien, as we agreed upon, sir," she said as she handed him the stack of cards. "I'm sorry we couldn't do more."
He smiled as he accepted the payment, placing it into his coat pocket.
"If that's all you can give, that's all you can give," he stated plainly, "It's not your fault that they managed to bleed you dry."
The mayor nodded as she looked upon the cultists with worry, "And you're sure we won't face retaliation from the rest of their Order?"
"There is no Order," she looked back at him with shock in her eyes.
"Even in Vacuo, Helius is regarded as nothing more than a myth. No one's truly worshiped her in generations." He paused to adjust his coat against the cold. "Besides, the hole they were living out of was barely suited for the six of them, let alone a whole organization. Chances are they stole the outfits from some legitimate church and used them to put on a convincing façade. You were right to call them bandits. That's all they really ever were."
The mayor nodded as she looked back to the criminals, silently fuming that she had let herself be duped by such a simple trick.
"Don't blame yourself," the huntsman said. "It's amazing how intimidating the unknown can be."
The mayor nodded, then looked sorrowfully as the huntsman made his way towards the town's entrance.
"And there's no way we can convince you to stay?"
The youth chuckled, "Can't. Beacon's entrance exams are only a few months away, and I've still got a lot of work to do if I'm going to be ready for them."
The town's mayor smiled as the boy made his leave.
"Well in that case, thank you for everything, Mr. Argent Glass."