10/10/2017: Finally decided to get back into writing. Properly ended this chapter, and will post the next one very soon. In need of a beta.
Monster.
That was always the first thought that came to Blake Belladonna's mind whenever she considered the image in the mirror. She knew it wasn't what she was, but society deemed her so. In everyday life, there were the puns, the jabs, subtle and obvious, and the relentless hated, passed on from previous generations. It was all hatred to a supposed monster. That's what society had always treated her as, even those who she thought her friends treated her as.
She was an abomination made up by the cruel game of God, if he even existed.
She stared at the extra appendages atop her ebony hair, the annoying presence of those monstrosities unnerving her. She could never have the have the confidence or pride to call herself a Faunus anymore. What was there to be proud of? Being different? That's the reason of why many Faunus were hated, why so many Faunus were persecuted, and why so many Faunus were dead.
She'd cry herself to sleep every night, hoping for a better day than the last, and this process had repeated itself more times than she could count. She'd wake up, go to school, get picked on all day, occasionally get beat up by a person or a gang, go home, cry herself to sleep, and start all over in the morning.
That's just how life was: an endless cycle of hatred and pain doomed with no clear end that she could see.
Then again, in her mind, life was a cold-hearted bitch, if life was even worth the name that it was called.
She sighed to herself, wiping the morning crust out of her eyes. She looked at her clothing, a black tank-top with a random pair of white shorts she had found, which she happily called her pajamas. It was a haphazard combination she found just laying around. Why need style when they hate the skin? Clothes mean so little anyways.
She'd have to face the music of school eventually, so, with whatever motivation she could muster, she moved over to her nightstand to turn her scroll speakers on.
Blake had always thought her music choice was a little bit different then that others. She couldn't stand pop, but she liked punk-rock, or rock. She didn't mind the classics, but she hated country. She loved oriental music, as well as k-pop, even if she didn't completely understand it.
Blake liked to think that she could see beauty in something she couldn't understand fully.
If only people could operate the same way, she thought to herself.
She hated rap, but loved metal strangely enough. It was such an aggressive genre; it made her want to vent out all her frustrations to the world and like doing it. It was her best method of truly expressing herself. Though the one genre she loved more than anything else was EDM. Words couldn't describe how or why she loved the genre so much.
Speaking of music, one of her more favored songs came on, playing to a gentle volume. It was a by a pretty popular artist, Calvin Harris. She knew the name of the song by heart, "Show Me Your Love" which was really what she needed more of, someone to show love and compassion to her, that wasn't a family member.
She walked into the bathroom, making sure to turn the overhead heater on first thing. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was the cold. She reached into the hybrid bathtub and adjusted the knobs to a certain position with practiced precision. She messily discarded her clothes before hopping into the warm shower that awaited her. Her cat ears twitched intermittently due to the water, but soon stopped after being used to the downfall of the water. Contrary to popular opinion, cats didn't mind water, but only when it was on their terms.
She bit her lip a few times when the water ran over her unhealed knee, and most likely infected cuts and scrapes from her frequent bully sessions. She'd have to remind herself to clean those out later, but what was the point in it if they would always just come back? They were a good reminder of the endless suffering she was subjected to. A sign of the repeated cycle that would never break.
She hastily dried herself off with a towel, including viciously drying her hair. She'd been so accustomed to leaving it in its messy state. She loved letting her hair down and free, unrestricted by anything attempting to hold it back. A sudden vibration sound rumbled across the countertop in the bathroom, jolting Blake out of her 'My hair is freer than me' trance.
She loosely wrapped the towel around her frame before walking over to the counter and picking up her phone. She had a text message from Yang Xiao Long, resident blonde and her best friend.
Blake couldn't have been more thankful for this blonde female in her life. Contrary to many first opinions, Yang wasn't Chinese as her name suggested. Yang and her biological family had visited China when Yang was very young. It was there, her parents had asked her to stay put at park bench. She waited and waited. After two days, Yang never lost hope. A man who ran a food stand fed her those two days. On the third day, he learned of the reason of why she was waiting. He didn't have the heart to tell her that little Yang was abandoned. That kind man decided to take the responsibilities of which her parents lacked, and a bit of convincing with his wife, that server, and his family took the little blonde in.
It was there she was raised into the headstrong young woman she was today. All of this happened at the Year of the Dragon festival during was the literal term of how she got her name. "Sun Little Dragon".
Yang had been one of the very few people at the massive school she went to that was friends with Blake, as in a real friend. The two would seem like an unlikely pair to be with one another. One day, Blake forgot her wallet at home and needed food one night. By some stroke of sheer coincidence, the blonde girl gave Blake a bowl of much needed noodles on that day. From there, Blake and Yang got to become best friends. Yang was someone to talk to, to have fun with, and to share endearing insults with.
Then again, Blake was also friends with Neptune and Lie Ren. They, however, have very busy schedules, thus hardly having time to hang around, and so whatever little clique of friends she had, it was never in school.
Yang was someone not to mess with, too. Despite her gorgeous blonde hair, and luminescent lilac eyes, plus her more than developed figure, Yang was a top-notch boxer, winning plenty of tournaments. It came into being after a man threatened her foster dad's food stand. She unleashed her untapped potential while being backed up by her foster father. After that, she wanted to punch people ever since. Blake had always thought Sexy Death had a name, like most avatars on the internet. After spending so many years with Yang, she had a good feel for who Sexy Death was.
Blake opened her phone and read the text.
Yang: Meowmorning, Kitty
Blake: Morning, bimbo
Yang: *gasp* You're just jealous of my boobs
Blake: Well, they're the only thing you've got going for you
Yang: And the only thing going for you is that you're about the kinkiest person I know
Oh. It was going to be that type of morning. The type of morning where a blonde with no bounds got off on how absolutely insane she drove her best friend.
Blake: Don't you dare even go there
Yang: You can't go one day with amount imaging being tied down to the bed!
Blake couldn't respond quickly enough at that point. She was a teenager, and she was hormonal, and she just happened to know what she liked even though she had never done it before. Totally normal. Yes, perfect, absolutely, normal.
Yang: I can just picture it! Your hands tied above your head while you get pleased head to toe!
Blake felt a small heat grow inside of her. A tiny flicker of a small flame.
Blake: Yang I swear to god if you fucking turn me on this early in the morning I'll never talk to you again! You know how I get sometimes!
Yang: Oh my kitten, so you mean I should send pictures like these?
Needless to say, Yang had sent some very explicit animated pictures and still pictures of rather promiscuous things found on the Internet. Blake unfortunately felt that small flame combust into an inferno and a palpable shiver sent down her spine. She closed her phone and gently ran her hand up and down her toned leg, eventually heading towards her nether regions. She moaned.
Getting changed could always wait.
A short amount of time later, Blake had found herself fully clothed and sitting at her desk in her bedroom scrolling through the news. She scowled when she saw the predominant headline.
"WHITE FANG ATTACKS SCHNEE OIL COMPANY OFF-SHORE RIG, OVER THIRTY DEAD, DOZENS MORE WOUNDED"
Oil was a great energy propellant, but with the chance that it could change into something more deadly, basic instincts emerged to create conflict. The White Fang, formerly a peaceful Faunus representative group, had been relentlessly attacking facilities that housed Oil, which was mostly owned by the Schnee Corporation. The White Fang were considered an international terrorist organization by most countries in the world.
She closed her laptop and stuffed it inside of her modestly sized black backpack. She stood up and turned to the full body mirror that hung on her closet door. She felt comfortable in her skin-tight dark-blue jeans, while her dark-grey T-shirt hugged her frame quite well. She walked over to her desk again and opened the draw revealing numerous amounts of makeup supplies.
She had decided that she would stick to eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick today, keeping it classy, yet simple.
Blake sighed out a small laugh, however she found it possible. Why was she even trying to look good when there was nobody to impress? She almost hesitated while applying these things. Then she continued with her morning routine, deciding she'd stretch her muscles out a little bit before heading out.
She continued her stretches for a few minutes, taking advantage of the hot shower loosening her muscles. While she was already quite flexible, she had always loved the tremble of the muscles when she stretched too far. It was very similar to someone waking up and doing one of their "limbs go anywhere" stretch.
She let her ears focus to the song playing on her speakers. A rather low-bass dance beat played quietly. Sighing to herself for the umpteenth time that morning, she grudgingly removed herself from the floor, turned her speakers off, and grabbed her black, nylon-polyester jacket off the coat hanger. It had been a little chilly that morning, so she decided she may as well wear her favorite jacket. It was a warm on the inside, with an elastic-type of nylon-polyester that formed the snug fitting exterior. She zipped it up all the way to her neck, while she slipped her thumbs through the small thumb holes on the sleeves of the jacket. She had to admit, she looked very appealing in Under Armour.
Moving towards the garage door, she grabbed her white backpack off the floor, its minimal weight not slowing her in the latest. Swiftly grabbing her keys off the hook by the door, she opened the garage door to her pride and joy.
A metallic-ebony 2014 Yamaha YZF-R6, complete with new rims, tires, and custom paint job. It had taken her a year of saving, two weeks of begging Glynda, her foster mother, to get it, and when she did, she had ridden it for twelve hours straight. The perks of being able to see at night while having a strong sense of reckless abandon at the time.
Oh, good times. Good times indeed.
Blake had always loved the feeling of riding motorcycles. She couldn't stand cars, which were always so boxed in and secluded. She wanted to be free, rather than suffocate in a condensed deathtrap. Of course, if subjugation and discrimination continually occurred with the Human and Faunus people, she doubted that "freedom" could ever be achieved for her or for any of her kind.
She stopped walking in her tracks, pausing to think about what she thought.
'God, what the fuck am I thinking? Equating equality to a car?'
She promptly resumed walking.
She walked over the bike, picking her sleek black helmet up off the seat of it. Reaching inside, she felt the metallic ring of her keys, and a small piece of circular elastic. Pulling both out, she tossed the keys on the seat, and tied the piece of elastic around her hair, making a ponytail out of the wild mess.
She loved her hair loose, but tying it up over getting it stuck in another car, or something, was a much less appealing idea. While the odds of that were leaning towards that never ever happening, Blake had never been the kind to be too careful, considering her past experiences. Frowning at the various memories that resurfaced in her mind, she blocked out the impeding angst trip.
Now that she had thought about it, she was a deeply caring, sensitive person on the inside. She'd often thought she'd put other people before herself most of the time. It wasn't necessarily the smartest move or course in life, but it suited her well.
Her thoughts drifted back to school. While a few of the teachers she knew were accepting of the Faunus, most weren't. She had obviously noted that when the amount of work she had to do nearly tripled with these teachers. There was always the headmaster, who was also her Uncle as well. His name was Ozpin. He was an extremely kind man, who held a zero-tolerance policy towards discrimination of the Faunus.
Blake slid onto the bike, swiftly, while also gracefully placing her helmet over her head. The helmet was a comfy mesh on the inside, with a dark black exterior. It looked like a cross between a dirt bike and motorcycle helmet, but is still had a definable sleek and smooth look to it.
She turned the key, feeling the motorcycle roar to life underneath her. Pressing the garage door opener button attached to her keychain, she looked out to see the morning sunrise peak over the forested mountains directly in front of her.
She had lived alone for well over seven years now, accustomed to her small, three-bedroom house. The best part of the house she technically owned, was that it was up in the mountains, a little further away than the residential area for the thirty or so small town that was up the mountain. Her breathing was heavier, a signal that the air is much thinner than what's considered the norm.
The local parks department had also finished paving the whole mountain with a new style of super-smooth blacktop. This led for a smooth ride up and down the mountain, which nobody could ever complain about. Ever.
Rolling out of her garage, using her feet to help balance her, she felt the change in ground from small, pebbly gravel, to smooth blacktop. Pulled out into the road now, she eyed the long and winding road down the mountain beneath her. The sun was halfway over the horizon now, its glare bouncing off her helmet's visor.
Toying with the throttle a little, she began the long descent down the mountain, often waving to her "neighbors" when she rolled through the one street town. They all returned her waves, and she often saw some of the little kids point and smile at her as she rode by.
Blake had rolled into the school parking lot, which almost was a little too big. The upside about this was that she would never have trouble parking away from everyone else. Glynda and Ozpin had offered her a spot in the teacher's lot, or the auto-shop garage, but Blake had declined it.
I don't need special treatment.
She parked in her usual spot, far off in the corner, where nobody could ever bother her. She slid off her bike with feline grace, the same way every morning, which always elicited a scoff from her. She took her helmet off, feeling the cool air blissfully assault her face, still reeling in from her excitement of the ride.
She clipped her helmet to the backside of her backpack, ensuring it wouldn't hit her elbows or arms while she walked or ran. Walking down the school sidewalk, her eyes drifted to all the cars in it. Strangely, today there was a Yamaha and Ducati parked in the same spot. She noticed the change in scenery when she walked past them, they weren't ever there before.
She concluded that it could be new students, or visitors. She shrugged the thought out of her mind. The main entrance to the school came into her peripherals and the usual massive crowd of students around it. The different kinds of groups scattered across the school's entrance grounds like how islands scattered across the ocean in the Pacific. All in huddles, each chatting about anything and everything.
She casually glanced around the area, taking in the bustling activity that was the school's courtyard. Before walking, her amber eyes scanned the area for Yang, whom she hadn't seen yet, which was rather unusual, considering Yang would be at the school earlier than her. Yang was the armor to make the mornings much more tolerable.
Not daring to keep track of the count, she sighed, before beginning her evenly-paced walk into the school. She turned down to the main sidewalk, ignoring the glares and glances she received. As if rehearsed and with agility only a cat could have, the Faunus ducked under a football, then sidestepped an oncoming soccer ball.
She'd hear the words "freak" or "animal", but ignoring them was a simple task. They were meaningless words that people always used to being out a reaction in her.
Halfway there, she thought to herself, the black metal doors with large windows only a mere thirty feet away.
She was so close to the light at the end of the tunnel, to be free from the scrutinizing glares of society. She was less than twenty feet away when she felt a brutal impact to the back of her head, causing her to harshly fall face-first into the concrete sidewalk. She felt the numbness of the impact, but slowly, the sensation of a raging inferno overcame her. She lay there, tears most likely streaming down her face.
She put one solid arm under her, attempting to stand up and reach the ever-dimming light at the end of the tunnel, but was only dragged further away from it when she felt an unbearable pain rack her side, leaving her in utter agony. She coughed up something, but she couldn't tell what it was, for her mind was a dazed blur. She felt herself roll onto her back, before an extremely heavy weight was applied to her stomach. Even she could tell in her dazed state that someone was standing on her. She gasped in pain and feebly tried to claw away at the leg, or so she thought she did. Her mind was such a buzz- she couldn't tell even if someone told her.
And then the most excruciating pain she had ever felt in her life had taken over.
Someone had stomped on her head, and now she felt her head held down by a foot that was applying an extreme amount of pressure to her face. She cried out. She cried out for anyone, anything, whatever would get her to the light at the end of the tunnel. As if a supreme being had heard her desperate pleas for help, she felt the weight entirely removed from her body. With slight hesitation, she slowly crawled away until she got up and stumbled to the door, using the handle as assistance to help pull herself up, only to collapse. She took the time to observe the scene behind her.
She saw three boys on the ground, all familiar to her. The perpetrators of her assault, most likely. Though she knew that there was a fourth the leader was always with his cronies. Dazed and slightly unfocused, she saw a rather tall boy with a football jersey on being absolutely pummeled by another person. The person attacking the football guy was easily a few visible inches shorter than him, but he was absolutely mopping the floor with the football player to no end. She watched as the football player soon fell limp to the ground. Or was it the other person attacking him? She couldn't tell.
Her breath hitched when she saw whoever was left standing walk over towards her. She desperately reached for the doorknob again to escape the subjugation. She rose to her feet before the collapsed under her again. She braced for the inevitable hard impact, but was caught in surprise when she didn't feel the pain of impact. She swore she heard the scream of someone she knew, but she couldn't tell.
After a few moments she felt herself slowly let down onto what felt like somewhat soft ground, if it were even ground she was now laying on. Even though it had been somewhat cloudy that day, the brightness of the sky blinded her sensitive eyes, sending needles of pain through her head. There was a vague noise in the background, as if someone were trying to talk to her.
Either that, or she was hearing voices in her head.
In an action that caused her to gasp in pain, she felt someone touching the back of her head and then proceeding to touch her face. She attempted to say something, but all that came out of her mouth were a garble of words that she didn't think were English, or any language for that matter. Whoever person was feeling her up, she'd break words with later.
If things could have gotten any more embarrassing, they did, for whoever was feeling her up was now pressing down rather firmly on her sternum and then her ribs, which elicited a very loud shout of pain. Like flipping a switch, she was now fully aware of what was going on around her. Her vision coming into focus, she could make out the familiar mop of unruly blonde hair that belonged to Yang somewhere over to her right. There was a stranger with blond hair on her left, whom she identified as the person currently feeling her up.
Attempting to sit up, she harshly yelled, "is there any particular reason you're feeling me up you pervert!?". She regretted the decision to sit up immediately, as she gasped in pain and fell back to the ground. "Motherfucker", she muttered.
"Relax, I'm a paramedic. I'm just checking to see if you have anything seriously wrong with you." The voice was light, but confident and left an air of professionalism in the atmosphere.
Before she could reply, the voice continued. "Can you tell me where you're hurting right now?" it asked.
With an unrivaled teenage snark, she replied with dripping sarcasm "besides everywhere, my side really hurts, and my head is killing me. Though you should've noticed that when you were feeling me up, Mr. Paramedic."
"Well if you'd like, we can just cancel the ambulance and leave you here with that nasty gash on the back of your head. The bleeding doesn't seem like it's slowing down, so you can always have fun bleeding to death if you'd like." His reply left her speechless for a moment, not expecting such morbid sarcasm coming from someone who saved lives on a daily basis.
She turned to finally get a good look at the smartass, but her attention was drawn to her friend Yang, who had finally decided to speak up. "As lovely as that sounds, I think my friend here will happily get on that ambulance. Isn't that right Blakey?". Her poorly-vailed threat did not go over Blake's head, and in an act of self-preservation, she mumbled an affirmation.
The distant sound of a siren could be heard and in that moment, Blake could only think of one possible thing.
How was she going to explain this to Glynda?
So for this story you may have noticed that I delved into something sexual rather early. Let me address that. No, this will not be a story where sexual things come easy, and it's a super-rushed fic. I really want to take a good look on modern society and teenagers. Toolboys and toolgirls and how they talk online. How they interact. The actual reality of working part time over the summer, or weekends during school. I really fail to see any fics that truly talk about this within the RWBY genre. I hope to bring to light these things, so that my story seems something more, so people can relate.
Thank you for reading this story, and I hope you stay for the full journey.