Chapter 1: Bad Impersonations
2 years later
Her
The medium-loud chatter that you find in bars like the one I'm currently in is my favorite level. I can chow down on the plate of food in front of me on the counter top and filter through the dozens of conversations for anything remotely useful. One group of loud-mouthed idiots catches my attention. I had my eye on them ever since they walked through the door a few minutes ago.
"So Storm how'd that last contract go?" One of the guys asks. His question is directed at what look like the leader of those misfits, complete with feet on table.
"I crushed those Faunus scum. They thought they could hide down in the Industrial district. HA. Those idiots never saw me coming" 'Storm' says, completing his statement with a quick cut across his throat.
I'm about to divert my attention back to my meal when the barkeeper speaks up. He must have overheard what those idiots were babbling about. Well, considering he's my best informant, it's not too surprising.
"You ain't Storm" he says, cleaning a glass in his hands.
"You say something punk?" 'Storm' stands up. I can see the rest of his crew snickering to themselves.
"I said you ain't Storm, you got some problem with your hearing?"
"Of course I'm Storm. Who else is enough of a badass to be him?" 'Storm' sweeps his arms out in front of himself.
The bartender laughs shortly before responding. "And just what makes you so sure Storm's a 'he'?"
I freeze mid-chew. Putting my fork and knife down, I grab a piece of paper and a pencil. I quickly write out: 'You little shit' before folding the paper and placing it under my coaster.
'Storm' seems to be taken back a bit. "You see I just so happen to know Storm. Storm wouldn't talk shit like you do. Storm wouldn't even give you scum the time of the day" I sigh as the barkeeper verbally bashes this moron.
'Storm' and his crew all walk up to the bar's counter top. Given their facial expressions and the fact that about half of them are drawing their weapons, this is gonna get ugly. Most of the conversations in the bar have died off now. Any regular at this place knows that the barkeeper is a well-know informant for many mercenaries and hunters. People like myself, however, know that he's also a CQC expert. In the past, I've joked that I'd be more comforted seeing him with a Dust rifle pointed at me than if he was bare handed.
I force my attention back to the food on my plate, knowing that this situation would be resolved without my interference. But, with my luck, that doesn't happen.
"You wanna say that again?" 'Storm' says with a face contorted with anger.
"I could or I could just say that she is right over there" the barkeeper says, pointing his thumb directly at me.
It's at this point that all conversation at the bar stops. I can feel almost fifty pairs of eyes drilling into the back of my head. excluding the daggers coming from my left. I, keeping up appearances, casually continue to work on my meal. I'm almost done with it too when I hear the bigot himself start walking over to me. Joy.
"THIS is who you think Storm is? THIS bitch?" 'Storm' starts laughing to himself. "Fucking pathetic" are the words he ends with before reaching over and drawing his sword.
The sound of a blade being drawn sharpens my focus. As he brings his sword back to slash me, I think of a simple choice: light or heavy.
Light or heavy
Light
or
'Heavy'
*CRASH*
'Storm' stumbles backwards, confused as to what just transpired. The girl that, just a second ago, was about to get her head cut off had just pulled a medium-length heavy sword out of thin air. Considering that I'm not a magician, I stand up (only after finishing my food, naturally) and calmly stare him down, slowly returning the blade from my left hand to its sheath on my right hip.
I sigh loudly, "Yes I am Storm, in the flesh" answering his previous question.
One of his crew must have decided that he wanted to join the "Sitting on the floor looking like a dumbass" club because I hear someone lunge at me from the right.
This time, I go with 'light'.
I grab the correct blade from the sheath on my left hip and pull the thin twin of my previous sword out, deflecting the assailant's strike before quickly bashing the back of his head with the bottom of the hilt.
As their buddy goes crashing to the floor, the rest of the band of idiots decide to form a semi-circle around me, trapping me between them and the bar's counter top.
I unbutton the bottom half of my trench coat, revealing the two sheaths. Calling them sheaths would be an insult, though, considering that each one houses a light and heavy blade as well as some extra tricks in case I need one in a seriously strong looking metal case. I nicknamed them my "Boxes".
I point the one light blade I have already out at half the group and draw my second light blade at the other half. I smirk. "I'm so glad I found others who don't use diplomacy" I whisper to myself.
The group looks amongst themselves and I can feel my internal clock ticking down to when this brawl will erupt.
3
The entire group begins to face me.
2
I don't give them that luxury.
1
I hear the satisfying crunch of a broken jaw as the flat of my blade connects with someone's face. I continue the assault by bringing my leg up and swiftly dislocate a second man's knee. The breaking of bone must have snapped the remaining men out of their dazes as they finally decide to attack.
The first one goes down after a parry, spin and punch to the face.
The second goes down after a block, knee to the gut and a bash with both hands to the back of the head.
The third decides to pull out a Dust pistol. I can see him lining up the shot and spin out of the way. I put my foot down, line up the sheath on my right hip and pull the trigger underneath the guard on my left blade.
Just above where the two blades are housed, there is a small barrel that slightly sticks out of the steel frame. That barrel roared to life as the firing mechanism in the back sent a single round down it.
One moment, the man is holding the pistol attempting to aim at my blurry form. The next, he's on the floor writhing in agony from the bullet that had connected with his right arm.
Putting away my swords, I walk up to my impersonator who seems to have forgotten how to talk.
"Waa- How? -urF"
He makes some interesting noises as I grab him by the collar and drag him to his feet. I bring his face up to mine and stare directly into his eyes.
"Get out"
"Fuckin old man"
The barkeeper starts laughing again after he picked up my coaster. I, being the good little mercenary I am, stayed at the bar after it was promptly shut down for the night and helped clean up.
"Aw come on. A little birdy told me that you had been spending a lot of time down in the communal forge Downtown. Rumor has it you were sporting some heavy-duty equipment a few days ago leaving it. I wanted to see your new gear in action and I saw a rather perfect opportunity. Can't blame me for being curious now can you" He says with a grin.
"Next time you decide to use me to clean up your bar, I'm going to fucking charge you for it" I respond, downing the glass of water in my hand afterwards, "And I'll expect compensation for cleaning it as well, I'm a mercenary not your damn maid".
"Dully noted, now" he pauses, "what can I get for you?"
I pause for a second, "Already ate" is the response I come up with.
"Ah, so you're finally here because of my dashing good looks and personality are you?" He replies, sarcasm slathered across every word.
"You wish I was" I respond dryly while pulling out an envelope, "I'm here for more of a special request. Figuring out who this man is and what he does was already public information but there's something else I want to know".
I hand him the envelope.
"I want to know how powerful this guy's information web is"
He opens the envelope and reads the single word written inside.
And that's when he resumes laughing.
"Oh Storm, I don't even need to go to the back to give you your answer" he says, slowly leaning over the counter top. "Just assume that whatever it is you think he might know, he does. This man's abilities have carried him to where he is now so just operate like everything is out in the open".
I sigh. "Well this is just great, everything out in the open huh" I stand up, "As much fun as its been, I should run along now". I start walking to the door.
"Good luck out there Storm" I hear a shredder operating in the background.
I nod my head and leave the bar, my brain already preparing itself for the next month or so.
Walking down the streets of Vale, I reach into my pocket and pull out a letter I had received a week ago. It was a letter telling of my acceptance to Beacon.
Tucking the letter back into my pocket, I only had one question about the man on the envelope.
"What kind of fucking name is Ozpin anyways?"
Elsewhere
A fist slams into a desk, which is currently occupied by a man whose gray hair and glasses betray his age. The fist belonged to a rather angry secretary of his.
"Why in the world did you think that letting HER into this school would be a good idea?!"
"Now Goodwitch..."
"NO, it's bad enough that we have ONE dangerous felon that you accepted this year but I will not allow a SECOND"
"Listen Glynda, we've been lucky in the past but my sources are telling me that organizations like the White Fang and the Dusk are beginning to organize. Now why would I miss out of the chance to have defectors from each organization join our ranks? They could supply us with an invaluable amount of information"
"But there's a good chance that she's unstable. The fallout if she losses control is something that I will not take responsibility for"
"Two years..."
"Huh?"
"Tell me, when was the last time we had a report of a Shadow walker within Vale?" He barely waited for a response, "Well she's been operating here in Vale for the last two years and we've heard nothing"
"But how do we know that she'll be willing to fight Shadow walkers?"
"Two years ago, one of our scouts reported a strange even out in the frozen wastelands. He said he spotted a female Shadow walker walking around, only to have her get ambushed by a large squad of Shadow walkers. The scout claims that the woman slaughtered the squad without taking a hit. To me, it sounds like she is more than willing to face them"
"But-"
"Now if your little tantrum is done, do you mind letting me get back to work?"
Glynda scowled but quickly left shortly after. Ozpin opened his scroll again and opened a file under the name of Alice 'Storm'. After scanning the contents for the umpteenth time, he still only had one question on his mind.
"What kind of name is 'Storm'?"