"You shouldn't be surprised by now."

"At what? The unnecessary cliffhangers? I'm no longer excited at the thought of being excited!"

"And?"

"The overuse of black lines and jump cuts? Couldn't things be cleaned up a bit?"

"And?"

"It feels really rushed. Could you bring it down a notch and not trip over yourself?"

"Aaaaaaand?"

"It's okay."

"Prepare for more, then."


Black, tinged with green.

Fast. Faster. Unable to be seen.

Unable to be understood.

Unable to understand.

Fumbling in ignorance, killing without mercy, destruction without care.

Destruction of property. Destruction of hearts.

Destruction of lives.

Such beautiful chaos.

None of it worth it.

I close her eyes and turn, facing her killer.

-Excerpt from the Chronicle, Page 39


Chapter 9: Semblance Through Action

Hannibal yelled incoherently as he charged the group of Nevermores. Eight of them squawked and took to the skies in an attempt to escape Hannibal. One was suddenly brought down as Diana jumped from the cover of the trees and onto its back. She roped her scythes around its neck and decapitated it. A second went down with a large gash in its breast, curtsey of Hannibal. A third actually made it off the ground, but went down to duel retorts of Weslyn's rifle. Missing both eyes.

That left seven Nevermores. Three of them, frightened of the quick deaths of their comrades, fled back to the safety of the nest. Now the number was down to four. Four large, hungry, airborne, and very pissed off birds. One dived down at Diana, who jumped backwards out of the exposed clearing and into the nearby boughs of a tree. A second tried to swipe and Hannibal, who managed to cut off a toe on one of the beast's talons. It screeched in pain and wheeled away. A third dived down at Scylax. Weslyn, preoccupied with the fourth, and consequently largest, didn't notice Scylax was being dragged away until he started groaning in pain.

Scylax was confused. He felt lightheaded; there was a large, burning pain that spread across his lower abdomen. He was being dragged by something large; he heard gunshots and incoherent yelling. He was lifted into the air for a second. A sound like a blade striking stone; an angry squawk. He felt himself fall. Then there was nothing but pain, and he passed out again.

Hannibal carried Scylax in a fireman's carry. He was putting his training to good use. His father would be proud.

Hannibal hadn't seen the wound on Scylax's stomach very clearly. He knew it was bad; the boy had passed out from what he assumed was pain. That didn't matter; this was the most effective way to carry him as the group made their way to better cover.

Weslyn was protesting the entire way as the three made their way west, trying to head around the nest and shake off their pursuers. She was very worried about the state of the wound. While it was bandaged and adequately covered, Weslyn was worried it would open again. After about a minute or two of finicky adjustments to the way Hannibal held Scylax, she stopped talking and watched the overhead for their avian pursuers.


Diana was strangely excited. No, excited wasn't the word.

She was ecstatic.

It took a few minutes for her to realize why. She was being useful. She had taken down two Nevermores, had fought a Deathstalker, had noticed and alerted the team of the approaching group of birds. It was good to be back into the fight. Too long at Signal she had been held back from fighting Grimm. Dueling other students had been fun, but they had gotten boring.

Especially when she accidentally took things too far.

There had been a fair share of injuries; this was fighting. Injuries, whether accidental or purposeful, were expected. But Diana had gone beyond bruises and cuts and bloody noses.

She broke bones.

It was if a blood rage settled over her when she fought. She could not stop fighting until her enemy had been trashed, scrubbed, and absolutely obliterated before her.

She had been worried when Hannibal and Weslyn had learned about her fighting style. They seemed to accept it; in fact, when she learned of Hannibal's passive Semblance, she had seen their friendship as fate. Hannibal's Semblance, at least a passive side effect, was what made him an amazing leader.

He felt no fear.

He was sometimes pathetically silly when it came to fearing things like certain insects and snakes. Diana smiled at the thought of the slithery reptiles. Now that was a funny episode. But whenever he was in battle, outmatched against multiple opponents, crippled from exhaustion and pain, he would never feel fear. He could think logically, clearheadedly, and always seemed to make the best decisions. In this state of mind, he felt no emotion, no remorse, no dismay.

It wasn't that he performed well under stress: he didn't FEEL stress.

It was another reason that she loved him. He kept her in check.

Diana smiled as the group came across a small pack of Beowolves.

Yes, this has been a fun day.


Hannibal was concerned.

Not the sort of concern that makes people insane with worry. Just another thing to note down in the growing list of concerns in his head. First- Scylax was bleeding again. His blood, which was strangely lukewarm as it ran down it back and neck, was sticky and annoying. Second- the Beowolves were becoming more frequent. The group had trekked enough distance from the Nevermore nest for the birds to finally go away, and Hannibal directed them back towards the cliff. Third- Diana was getting her blood rage up. He had seen the symptoms before. If she really got into it and activated her Semblance, Diana could end up hurting her own teammates with those flashing scythes of hers. Even Hannibal couldn't match her speed if she went berserk.

After he had mentally assembled this list, he compartmentalized. One thing at a time. First- the group should stop and Scylax should be carried more carefully. His wound was still bleeding, and probably needed to be disinfected again. The bandage Weslyn had tied around his abdomen was working well, but it would only do so for so long. Second- Coordinate Diana and Weslyn to fend off any Beowolves that come close. Third.

Really, there was no option for third except run and pray.


Weslyn checked her ammo again. Only five magazines left, and three bullets left in her current one. She ejected the mag, and slapped a fresh one in its place. No matter. The group was quickly nearing the cliff, and the Nevermores hadn't been seen in twenty minutes. It looked like they were going to make it. She looked fearfully at Scylax's still frame, being carried by Hannibal.

Weslyn was terrified for Scylax. She didn't know what was going to happen for him in the end. A normal person would be dead with the sort of internal damage the feather had done to him. And yet here he was, bleeding that strangely lukewarm blood, holding onto the thinning thread rope that was his life.

She knew something, though. Something that she still didn't know comforted or terrified her.

Scylax was not human.

Hannibal could see the cliff edge. The group had stopped before after a fight with a rather large fight with a group of Beowolves and Ursa. The big bears looked demonic under the darkness of the trees. Hannibal actually had to put Scylax down; over fifteen Beowolves had attacked the group. Figuring that this was a better time than later, Weslyn reapplied disinfectant and a new bandage to Scylax's wound, and the group carried on.


Ozpin had just called the school's medical staff to the cliff. They were always on standby for tests like this, and they arrived quickly. Ozpin was worried though. Scylax had lost a lot of blood, if the cameras were to be believed. All anyone could do now was hope that the group had enough resolve to carry Scylax up the cliff.


Surrounding the cliff edge were the ruins of some sort of stone structure, similar to that of the temple. A huge chasm was all that was left between the group and the cliff. While the bridges across did look sturdy, everyone was tense. This was the perfect place for an ambush.

Indeed it was. When the group was halfway across a central bridge about twenty meters long, two groups of Beowolves, each group containing around a dozen Beowolves each, appeared at each side of the bridge, effectively trapping the team.

Hannibal didn't even need to tell either of the girls. In an act of extreme speed and balance, Diana sprinted along the guardrails of the bridge towards the group in front of the group, scythes flashing white as they reflected the afternoon sun. Weslyn dropped to one knee and brought her rifle around, its retorts seemingly shaking the bridge.

All Hannibal could do was watch. He didn't trust the bridge enough to lay Scylax down, and the girls seemed to have the situation under control anyway.

Diana jumped into the fray, her scythes spinning, and her blood rage up. Her Semblance activated as well; her eyes turned red as fire. She was impervious to damage, the Beowolves' claws and teeth simply reflected off her skin, her aura in a perfect, invulnerable state. She slashed and around her the wolves' still bodies fell.

Weslyn was using the opposite group as target practice. Picking them off one by one as they neared her, she checked her magazine. Two shots. Perfect. Firing two shots into the remaining four Beowolves, bringing one down, she jumped into the air. Her sniper transformed into a glaive, with a long, curved blade. Slashing down at the midsection of the first two Beowolves, who were caught completely by surprise. She cleaved one in half and dashed back as the pack overcame its confusion. One wolf charged her. She dragged the blade across the bridge of a wolf's nose, and used its forward momentum to shove the wolf off the bridge. It fell with a yelp. The remaining uninjured Beowolves looked at their fallen comrades, and decided against charging this scary spear-wielding human again. They slinked across the bridge in defeat. Weslyn turned around to see that Hannibal was only a two meters behind her, ready to charge the wolves if need be. The thought made her terrified and exhausted heart leap with joy, seeing someone finally backing her up. All these years of relying on herself, and the thought of fighting as a team again made her almost forget her aching muscles and strained lungs.

Almost.


Ozpin nearly yelled with joy as Hannibal's head appeared at the edge of the cliff, followed quickly by Diana's and Weslyn's. Scylax's body was being carried between Weslyn and Diana, and was quickly rushed off to the medics. Hannibal, his strength finally gone, collapsed to the ground. He was covered in bruises, cuts, and general scrapes, as his aura had weakened considerably. His muscles ached, and he yearned to shower and sleep. He closed his eyes and stretched. When he opened them, he found Ozpin standing over him, his hand held out. Hannibal took it and was led to a waiting car that took the three new Beacon students to the grand auditorium.


Chapter 10: Fool Me Once

The group was called to the stage, accompanied with applause from the crowd.

"Hannibal Liatora, Diana Vikat, Weslyn Brunneis, and unfortunately absent Scylax Grendel. The four of you survived one of the most brutal initiation processes that I have ever seen here in my time at Beacon. From this day forward you will work together as Team SHDW, led by Hannibal Liatora."

The crowd applauded again, and as the team exited the stage, they heard Ozpin finish the ceremony. "Thank you all who have come out here to see these excellent Hunters and Huntresses in training. From today's results alone, I can comfortably say that this year is shaping up to be an interesting one."


The dorm master, an older student, led the group to their dorms. Teams stayed in large rooms together, regardless of gender. The three walked into their room with mild excitement, which was quickly dispelled. The room was threadbare, covered in white and overly cheerful wallpaper, with four beds and their luggage strewn around the room. Diana noted that Scylax had very little luggage, just a small black bag on his bed. The team, after their exhaustive ordeal, could not care less for the moment. They were asleep as soon as they hit their beds.


Hannibal didn't sleep in.

At least, according to his team. The group woke up at relatively the same time. On Hannibal's clock, it was normal time. But on everyone else's, they were going to be late for their first class. They rushed to change into school uniforms, and then sprinted from the dorms to the main building, where their first class was being held by Professor Peter Port.

Professor Port looked at the three students filing into his classroom thirty minutes after it had started. He would cut them some slack- the group had proven themselves to be quite capable Hunters and Huntresses. All the professors and other teachers in Beacon had individually reviewed the Initiation tapes. He had noted how Hannibal had carried Scylax all the way from the Nevermore's nest and even up Beacon Cliff. He sighed and motioned them to their seats, and continued his lecture.

Halfway into the lecture, things got interesting.

"A true Huntsman must be honorable. A true Huntsman must be dependable. A true Huntsman must be strategic, well educated, and wise. So, who among you believes themselves to harbor these traits?"

No one stood up. His class of twenty or so students didn't make a sound. They had all seen the shaking cage, growling in the corner.

Actually, not everyone. Not Team SHDW.

"Can I have any volunteers for a demonstration? Anyone at all?"

No one moved.

"Fine. Ms. Vikat?"

Diana looked up in surprise. She didn't do very well in lecture settings; it tended to put her to sleep, no matter how rested she was before the start. Already the sort of droopiness that characterized her reaction was setting in. She took a closer look at the Professor. The man, looking around his late fifties, had a grey, bushy mustache that complemented his similarly bushy and colored hair. He was wearing a burgundy suit with golden pins, and was slightly overweight. He was motioning to her, and Diana finally comprehended his words.

"Of course, sir." She stood up and took position as Professor Port took his position next to the bucking cage, the creature inside now terribly excited. Her scythes were held at the ready in a backwards grip; she actually heard some students gasp as they reflected light off their perfectly silver surface.

Professor Port opened the cage, and the Boarbatusk leapt out into the classroom.

A Boarbatusk resembled a real boar, excluding the fact that it had an extra set of tusks, four eyes, and had a bony white armor that covered nearly its entire body, except its very lightly armored underbelly. It grunted and eyed up Diana.

Then it charged.


Hannibal was surprised that Diana had been selected. Not that he really minded. Or Diana had either. He had seen her almost hidden smirk of delight as the Boarbatusk charged her. Her eyes changed from violet purple to crimson red as she activated her Semblance.

In seconds it was over. She kicked out with her foot, connecting with its forehead, as she placed her scythes between the twin tusks of the still charging boar. The air seemed to shake with the impact. It stopped its charge with a frustrated squeal. That squeal turned to rage as she loped off its tusks, and then to pain as she flipped it on its back.

Diana proceeded to bisect it.

She took a bow in front of the stunned professor, and walked back to her seat. She was yawning as she sat down.

Class proved to be uneventful for the rest of the period.


"You didn't need to be so showy about it," Hannibal said to Diana. "We already have kids looking at us as the only group with someone injured enough to go to the infirmary."

"All the more reason for us to show off," Diana responded with a cheerful grin.

"Shouldn't we visit Scylax?" Weslyn suggested. Not much else was going on in their hour-long free period.

"I can't see a reason not to. As his leader, I am responsible for anyone on my team. Besides, I didn't lug him out of that forest for nothing."
"I suppose I'll tag along then," Diana said.


"He isn't exactly taking visitors right now," the nurse said cautiously.

"Why not?" Weslyn questioned. "We are the group that managed to pull his injured ass out of the Emerald Forest. I think out of anyone we should be given the right to at least visit him."

The nurse sighed heavily and hung her head, thinking. She suddenly stood up and motioned them on. Weslyn grinned at Hannibal and Diana as the group was led to a nearby room.

"He might be sleeping right now. We've had to keep him under sedation for the pain. I'll let you three consider the risk of trying to wake him up in his state."

"What happened?" Diana asked as she sat down in a chair at the back of the relatively small room. Scylax was lying in a bed with most of his midsection bandaged. He had an IV in his arm, and was passed out underneath a comfortable-looking blanket.

"Well, he sort of punched the doctor in the face. His eyes…. Well, never mind. Just be careful if you decide to wake him. I'll be at the front desk if you need anything."

With that ominous warning, she left the room.

"Don't worry," Scylax said, sitting up in his bed and startling the three. "I wasn't asleep. Drugs do weird things to me, especially if the person giving the dosage doesn't know-" He cut off suddenly. "Never mind. Besides, I need to be awake to…um…. thank you three." He started blushing suddenly, and hung his head. "So… thank you." He refused to meet their eyes.

"Well, you're welcome. Can't have a team member dying on the first day," Hannibal responded in a good-natured tone. He knew all too well what Scylax was going through. It must've be a pain to feel like a dead weight to a team, especially after getting injured. Hannibal himself had experienced it a few times in training.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to start," Weslyn began. Instantly, Scylax looked back up, with his usual blank face one again. "I was trying to bandage you after we took the feather out, and a sort of layer of skin had formed over the wound. It had stopped bleeding and everything. Well, I guess I should be asking, how are you not dead right now?"

Up until that moment, Scylax had been holding his blanket around his shoulders as he sat up. He was wearing nothing but a medical gown. He removed his blanket and pushed the gown down to his waist. Everyone recoiled in surprise. His chest was covered in strange, white scars of alternating depths on his chest and stomach they had failed to notice when Weslyn was bandaging him.

Almost even stranger, he had no nipples.

"None of these are from any sort of medical operation. My body seems to have a bit of a regenerative ability, though I'm sure that without your medical help it would have taken much longer for me to heal. Next question."

Ignoring the fact that his answer sponsored a whole new set of questions, Diana quickly spoke. "What do you call your knives?"

Scylax seemed a little taken back, or at least it appeared so on his regularly dead expression. "Tinge," he answered. Diana, awaiting further elaboration, naturally got none.

"Does your speed come from your Semblance?" asked Hannibal. "Yes," replied Scylax. Once again, no more detail than necessary. Hannibal felt like he was getting details rather than full answers. Weslyn piped up again.

"Are you human?"

For the first time since Hannibal met him, Scylax actually grinned. Nothing obvious. Just a slight curving of the edges of his mouth. Hannibal almost missed it.

The boy with the emerald eye shrugged his shoulders in doubt. The three waited for an explanation, a comment, anything, but their only answer was silence.


The nurse had come in a second later and ushered the group out. The doctor was off taking a break when she let them in; he would be back any second. As Weslyn was leaving, she looked back at Scylax. He had returned to his regular deadpan expression, showing no emotion, betraying no thought. Then the door closed and the nervous nurse ushered her out of the medical ward.

"That was a suitably ambiguous answer for him. If he won't give us answers, then maybe Ozpin will," Weslyn said. "We need to be able to trust him, and it's obvious he doesn't trust us. And if he won't trust us, then I don't want him on the team."

"Yeah, I don't trust him as far as I can trust him to throw himself," Hannibal said.

"That makes no sense."

"That may have been the point. I'm not one for playing these little game that he so enjoys. If we can't trust him, we won't have him."


Contrary to the lecture of Professor Porter, Diana enjoyed Dr. Oobleck. History has always been something she has been interested in. She didn't know why, but whenever she could find a history book, she read it like she would never read again. To this day, Diana still did not know why she enjoyed the subject so much. But she did enjoy the teacher, who was still quickly darting around the room with his inhuman speed of his.

"In this class, we will be covering the Great War, the Faunas Right Revolution, and other such conflicts," he said, and then darted off to another part of the room, sipped his cup of coffee, and darted to another side. "We will begin with the Great War, a pivotal moment in our world's history."

Dr. Oobleck was a young man, with seemingly opaque round spectacles and messy green hair. He had a bit of a disheveled look, with a loose yellow tie and raised collar, a mismatching pair of shoes, one black and one brown. He was constantly darting around the room when he was lecturing, more often than not with a cup of coffee in his hand. He seemed to speak as fast as he moved.

"Unfortunately for today, we will not be covering any of these topics, and instead be discussing the purpose of learning history. So, class. Why do we learn history?"

Because we enjoy it, Diana heard herself saying. Instead, a more proper answer came from the back of the class, from a sand-colored kid she did not know the name of.

"Because we shouldn't repeat mistakes that have been made for us."

"Not exactly the point I was hoping someone would make, but it suffices. History has more mistakes collectively than anyone that has ever existed. Knowledge of these mistakes can almost be as important as hard learned lessons, if at the very least warnings. But there is far more to history than that. Knowledge of one's origin, culture, background, further understanding of actions, even predicting the future! There is so much to be learned from history."

The doctor stopped at his desk. He sipped his coffee once more before continuing.

"Now class, please remember the words I have said here today. History is as important as the present! Now, why should we study the Great War?" he continued.


Glynda was waiting for the class in the auditorium. Naturally, duels were something that got most fighters excited, as a way to show off their skills and achieve status within a group or as a whole. This would be amplified on the first day, so Glynda would have to watch who she chose.

"Welcome to the dueling class, where you as Hunters and Huntresses can see in a clearer way how you skills and studies are progressing in the realm of fighting. I'm going to assume that none of you know the tournament style rules that we have here. The tournament's rules operate around a participant aura. When your aura, or your manifestation of your soul, or life force, or whatever you kids call it these days, goes into the red, an official can call the match. But, if the match is close enough, a participant's aura can be completely depleted for a match to end. Needless to say, if your aura is completely depleted, you lose the match.

"Any questions? Good. And one last thing. Please no broken bones or other long-term injuries. As good as the medical services we have available here, any such injury could take time out of a student's regularly scheduled class time." She looked at Diana for a few seconds. "Please try to control yourselves."

"I have prearranged a few matches for you all that will take place during this week. If you have any problems with whom you will be fighting, please talk to me and we will work it out."

A large screen above the stage started scrolling with matches. Hannibal Liatora versus Caer Dugo, Nequam Ostrum versus Labib Ramil, Weslyn Brunneis versus Aaryan Morea, Gabbro Malus vs. etc. etc. Weslyn happened to note that Scylax's name was not on the list.

"While I have created these matches, after this week, the matches will be much more impromptu and some will even be student created. But today, we will be going over the finer points of tournament rules and regulations…"


Hannibal was surprised to see that their dorm room was tidied up, and everyone else's stuff was unpacked. He was more surprised to see Ozpin sitting on his bed, with his normal unzipped black suit over a buttoned up vest, with a dark green undershirt and similarly colored long pants. His shaded black spectacles contrasted sharply with his tousled white hair and complemented his black eyebrows. His brown eyes remained sharp and perceptive, giving you the feeling that Ozpin knew something you didn't. And in this case, he literally did.

"Please sit down," he said, motioning them to a Weslyn's bed. The three sat down and waited.

"I want to talk to you about Scylax."


Chapter 11: Fool Me Twice

"We don't know much about Scylax, his origin, his state of mind, or even his loyalties. That may lead you to question as to why he was even accepted into this school, so it's time you learn about the Nebulon Incident."

Ozpin glanced at Hannibal, who had shown no outward sign of recognition save for curled his hands into fists.

"Nebulon Industries was a steel working company located in many cities in Vacuo. One night, an armed man stormed into the main warehouse of Nebulon Industries, which was home to the office of its CEO, Brad Ferro, as well as a majority of the upper management for the company. Well, not so much as stormed. He more just seemed to appear in the building. It was there that the man killed Ferro, his guards, and half the workers in the warehouse, before leaving a cryptic message on the wall of Ferro's office, scrawled in the CEO's own blood: Repent.

"Many of those guards were part of Liatora Security, a security and bodyguard company run by Hannon Liatora. Hannibal's father."

Diana and Weslyn looked shocked. Of course they were. Not many knew of the Nebulon Incident. It was one of the biggest disasters for both Nebulon Industries and Liatora Security. Both companies wanted to keep it under wraps.

"The attacker wore all black, used duel knives that glowed green at the blades, and moved with speed that would give Dr. Oobleck a run for his money. His eyes were completely red and had no pupils.

"I'll give you three guesses as to who that was."

Hannibal knuckles were white with his anger. Diana and Weslyn didn't know what to say.

"You might wonder as to why this is reason for Scylax's enrollment. It's because the very next day, a body of a local crime lord alleged to be a member of the Black Rose was found, with the same cryptic message over his body. Over the course of many weeks, several bodies showed up across Mistral, Vale, and even Mantle. All high-ranking members in or associated with Black Rose. It became obvious that the Black Rose had wronged him in some way, and we connected it back to the Nebulon Industries, which was suspected of having dealings with the crime syndicate.

"Scylax singled-handedly took down over half of the leaders of Black Rose, as well as leading to the collapse of Nebulon Industries. He himself has been more effective than most every intelligence agency currently trying to destroy the syndicate.

"After killing the right hand man of the Black Rose's leader, he began jumping borders to get away from authorities. During these times, he actually befriended a few people. These people never really knew him. The only things they had in common were their descriptions of Scylax; he was very slow to trust, and very fast, mentally and physically. Eventually though, in Vacuo, he was captured by the VIIF. The agents involved in his arrest noted his compliance. Many of the agents had had encounters with him in the past, so it soon became obvious that he wasn't resisting. Scylax could try to escape anytime he wanted to, but he didn't. It is for those reasons, with a troubled past, and wasted energy, that I put in a good word for Scylax to enroll him in Shade Academy."

"But I heard from him that he graduated from Shade in seven days," Weslyn said.

"That's true. While he has not had any formal education, he has a sharp mind and good memory. He soaked up information easily. Unfortunately, he made no friends. He had no ties to Shade. His teachers reported him as being secluded, detached. He conversed only when asked. He even made a few enemies among the student body. He also has little to no social skills.

"His final day at Shade was when he defeated two battle instructors in a one versus two match.

"Shade didn't know what to do with him, so they sent Scylax to Vale, where he is now enrolled in Beacon."

Hannibal was staring at his feet. This boy had caused a company to collapse. He had nearly crippled his father. He had killed innocents. Hannibal thought back to the trek in Emerald Forest, the climb up the cliff with Scylax's body. He had helped the son of a bitch that had nearly brought down his father's living dream. Hannibal didn't care what Scylax had done after, whether good or bad.

But he would pay.

"So, that's literally all we have on Scylax Grendel. He doesn't have citizenship in any nation, we know nothing about his parents, and we know him to be a strange sort of fauna. Any questions?"

Weslyn felt overwhelmed. So much information, so many memories hidden behind that deadpan look and emerald green eyes. She heard Ozpin continue.

"Because we know so little, and he has shared nothing with us, we hoped that you would help collect information." Ozpin looked off into the distance. "Who knows what dark memories lie behind that calm, quiet complexion?"

He turned back to them. "I imagine you went to visit him. He promised to answer questions. Did you get anything out of him?"

"His knives are called 'Tinge'," Diana said helpfully.


After Ozpin had left, the three sat or lay on their beds. There was so much information to process. It showed how little they truly knew about the boy with the cloak and the knives. Diana was concerned about Hannibal, who knew would not taken this revelation well. The team said nothing, and after a while got dressed and went to sleep.

The next day, Hannibal's rage subsided.

Slightly.

To manageable levels that allowed logical thinking.

There was far too much that anyone knew of Scylax for him to jump to conclusions. He would pass judgment with the full story, and only then. As he prepared for classes, Hannibal couldn't get the image out his head of his father weeping.

Weeping in despair.


Chapter 12: Pandora's Box

As the three walked out of Dr. Oobleck's class, the nurse that had snuck them into Scylax's room ran up to them. "Hello, is there a Weslyn in this class?" A look of recognition came over her face. "Oh, hello you three. Would you happen to know a Weslyn in your class?"

"That would be me," responded Weslyn with a hesitant tone. What was this about?

"Oh, that makes my job so much easier. This is your free period, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Scylax has asked for you."


As Weslyn walked up to Scylax's room, she thought about his possible reasons to call her to him. Specifically her. Apparently, that was stated multiple times by Scylax, stressing the importance of only Weslyn coming. Alone.

Of course, Diana and Hannibal protested, but were naturally curious as well. Whatever the reason, the nurse would not allow Diana and Hannibal to come in with Weslyn. Something about a fragile state of the patient's mind, or something along those lines.

Weslyn knocked on the door. Hearing no response, she pushed the door open and walked in. Scylax was sitting at the desk pushed to the corner of the room, to the left of his bed. He was dressed in drab grey sweatpants with a comfortable dark green shirt. He appeared to be hunched over a desk, writing in something.

"Hello," Weslyn said hesitantly. Before the word had fully left her mouth, Scylax was on his bed, the desk he was sitting at was clear of clutter, and he had a surgical knife in his hand held in her direction. His emerald eyes were narrowed in an ugly scowl, but softened upon recognizing Weslyn. Then he doubled over, groaning and clutching his stomach.

"I shouldn't have done that," he croaked out, and slowly straightened his back.

Weslyn, for her part, did her best not to simultaneous faint and scream. "Y-you called for me?" she asked him in a shaky attempt at a casual tone.

"Sorry. That was a bad reaction. I shouldn't… I can't… It's a habit. Sorry."

Now Scylax was blushing. He put down the knife at a nearby table and sat down on his bed. He motioned for Weslyn to pull up a chair. She did, and the two were facing each other with about a meter between the two.

"I...well…um…. called you here to…" Scylax could barely get the words out of his mouth. "I called you here…to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It's very hard for me to trust people, and I've had to rely on just myself for a long time now… If I can trust anyone, it's you three. You saved my life, goddamnit. I just…" Scylax was closely inspecting his feet, but he suddenly looked up. Weslyn was surprised to an uncomfortable expression on his usually deadpan face. "I've been an asshole to you guys. I'll answer almost any question you ask me. Anything but my past. I just… can't right now.

"So…um… ask away."

Weslyn, overcoming her surprise, and still not entirely relaxed around this boy. She had seen him move. She didn't want to make him angry.

"Why didn't you want Hannibal or Diana in here? They played a pretty large part in saving your life."

"The Liatora kid… do you know about the Nebulon Incident?"

"Yeah. Ozpin told us."

"I suppose I should have expected that. How much did he tell you?"

"You charged into a metalworking warehouse and slaughtered its CEO and employees, left a message on a wall in blood, and then proceeded to go on a killing spree. And something to do with the Black Rose."

Scylax, looking sheepish, looked down again. "Not right now. That's basically why I don't feel comfortable allowing Hannibal in here. Especially alone. And Diana. I just don't really know her." He looked up, a hopefully light in his eyes. "Then again, I don't really know you… But I suppose the easiest way to know if you can trust someone is to trust them, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably, lowering his head again. "Well?"

"Are you a fauna? Like me?"

At this, Scylax glanced up as Weslyn removed her cap. Her ears, colored red and black, were flicking back in forth with nervousness. He grimaced inwardly. Of course she's nervous. I probably scared her.

"Well, yes…but you have to promise not to scream, faint, or generally cause a general ruckus."

"Ok…"

Scylax opened his mouth. Wide. Inhumanely wide. Weslyn noticed immediately that there was something wrong. His top and bottom canines were gone.

In their place, there was a pair of fangs. Hollow, white fangs, about fifteen centimeters long, curved like a snake's.

Like a snake's…

Weslyn, instead of immediately fleeing in terror, was dumbfounded. She had heard of faunas with non-mammalian traits, but they were extremely rare. Modern science couldn't even explain how these strange, sometimes reptilian or even avian mutations occurred. Scylax turned around and took off his shirt. She saw scales, or what she assumed to be scales, following his spine from the top of his neck to his waist.

"For your information, I am cold-blooded too," he said, pulling his shirt back on and closing his mouth. He looked a little relieved, if surprised at her reaction. Weslyn felt uncomfortable with this emotionless boy showing that he was anything but. Instead of the lightning-fast and emotionless boy in the cloak, he was now an awkward teenager with no social skills and was sharing himself with someone he didn't know to well.

No wonder this is awkward for him.

Weslyn decided to continue with questions. "What does your Semblance do, exactly?"

"Well, it does a few things. I... I think it would be easier to show you. Later. In a duel."

"Do you feel uncomfortable here?"

"This is sort of new for me. I like it here, I really do. There were too many people in Shade, with too many invasive questions. Not enough… sensitivity. I didn't like them."

"Do you enjoy writing?"

Scylax shot up at this question. Weslyn saw something akin to panic in his eyes.

"A little… bit… How much did you, uh, see?"

"Well, before you pulled your knife on me, all I saw was you hunched over your desk."

"Ok… Ok… I like it a bit. It kept me sane when I was on the run, and I still find comfort in it today.

"Well, are there any more, uh, questions?"

Weslyn thought long and hard. Surely there was something more she had to ask the boy with the knives?

"Can I… can I touch your scales?" Weslyn asked, trying to stop the blush rising to her cheeks.

"S-Sure, I can't seem the harm in that." Scylax seemed almost relieved for the questions to temporarily stop. He pulled off his shirt again, and turned around on the bed, sitting cross-legged.

"Please warn me before you-" Scylax jerked forward as Weslyn put her hand on his back. He calmed himself and settled down, and Weslyn, much more cautious this time, slowly put her hand on his back. His scales seemed to cover most of his spine, and covered his back with about the same distance as the distance between his shoulder blades. The scales, different shades of emerald green, were soft and dry, and not altogether unpleasant to the touch. Weslyn was so captivated by them that she almost didn't see Scylax trembling to her every touch. She remembered a rule with reptiles: always pet their scales in one direction, and not opposite to the way the scales overlapped.

After about a minute of touching and prodding, she moved back and sat down again. Scylax turned around and once again put on his shirt. He was failing at hiding his blush. Weslyn, quick to notice and even quicker to deflect the conversation, asked a question without thinking. "Do you have any siblings?"

Scylax looked down; she could almost physically feel the air in the room get colder. Before he could say anything though, the nurse knocked at the door at came in, taking in the situation before continuing. "Weslyn, your free period is about to be over. Your friends are waiting for you at the end of the lobby." She closed the door and walked down the hall back to the front desk.

"Well, I suppose that's enough questions for today," Scylax said, his dark and awkward mood forgotten, the rising blush on his face replaced with his usual soullessness. He practically seemed like a different person. "You best be going now. I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's fine. Would… would you be fine if I told Hannibal and Diana everything that you told me?"

"I would be fine even if you told Ozpin. Now get going. You don't want to be late."

Weslyn walked to the door, putting on her cap. Just as she was opening it, Scylax remembered something.

"Wait!" Weslyn stopped and looked at him. "Do you mind getting my bag from my room? It would be easier to pass the time."

"No, I don't mind at all."

"Thanks."

As Weslyn closed the door behind her, she contemplated her strange discussion with the boy in the grey sweatpants and the scales.


AN: Something I've been getting a bit of are some PMs carefully explaining to me Monty's color rule. I assure you that I have followed this color rule. So, I made a little explanation for the four main characters. If you are at all interested, I will create a similar list for the new characters I am about to introduce. Some of these references can be a bit vague, just as a warning.

Oh, and if you do understand any of these upcoming references, I will be unbelievably (and inexplicably) happy.

Scylax (Or Σκύλαξ, as a Latinized form of Greek) has come to mean young puppy, or some sort of image of naïvety. This name was used for its irony as well as I have come to like it. The irony is also present in Greek, as the name is sometimes used in a sarcastic way, as I have displayed in my story. In a more latinized (and slang)form, it actually used to be a common describer of a snake. Grendel is actually a reference to the old english poem Beowulf, where a giant named Grendel challenges the main character, and is presented as a sort of antihero(same poem from whence the name Beowolf comes from, FYI). As well as being a trait, Grendel is a very dark and brooding character, and his name has become associated with a collapse of morals for means to reach an end, as well as the color pitch-black or grey. He has also been described as 'serpentine' and 'scaly', though whether this is a descriptor of his personality rather than physical appearance is still unknown to myself. An associated power of Grendel also comes to mean evil efficiency. I'll leave that up to you as to describe Scylax's past.

Hannibal is obviously Carthaginian in nature. He intentionally shares the name with great general, but this is also the source of his color, as he shares the colors of the Carthaginian standard(I know, vague, but it works). His last name is significant to the plot later on, and I will unfortunately not explain its (vague) reference. (I know, I'm an asshole, but I assure you it complies with Monty's rules.)

Diana is the name of the Roman goddess of the moon, representing grace, beauty, and speed. She is one of the rare characters whose first name describes their color. Her silver color and her personality are reference for this name. Vikat actually means 'scythes'(though I forget the language and will find it as soon as my exams are over), as well as meaning 'severe' and 'formidable' in Hindi. It also has several other meanings across a motley of languages, though for the largest part will be ignored because they mean such different meanings. I'm gonna stick with Hindi.

Weslyn means 'defending soldier' in Old German, which comes to describe her as a character. Brunneis also means brown (or more specifically, light brown) in Latin. Just saying, Latin will be a major language or reference for many of these names, as well as upcoming ones. Weslyn has a sort of unsophisticated explanation as compared to the others (as well as being a hell of a lot more explicit) but that does not parallel with her character.

Thanks!