Wyatt ran through the stores open door, and quickly noticed the broken register, and the counter's contents lying across the carpeted floor in front. From his left he heard voices, shouting and yelling, half of them orders, some threats, a few desperate pleading. He slowly padded toward the voices at the stores back, making his way through the rows upon rows of shelves, his hands opening and closing.
Of all the times to loss mah claws. He scowled, looking for anything he could use as a weapon, as a broken door at the stores back came into view. He moved toward it, only to stop when a broom handle caught his eye, the head either broken off or missing, but Wyatt took the improvised staff regardless. As he stepped inside and closer to the source, the voices became clearer.
"I don't care how long you've had it, just open the damn thing!"
"Please, take my money, my books, anything!"
"How many times do I have to say it?! I don't want your money, I don't want your stupid books, I want what's inside this dust-damn safe!"
"Twelve minutes to pick up. I say we just grab, wheel the car around back and haul ass." Wyatt did a head count. At least three people, all male. Two attackers, one hostage, probably being held a weapon point.
They sound close together. Probably not a gun. Bit of an echo so it's not a small room. The tiny hallway connecting the store and it's back room was narrow, too narrow for Wyatt's liking. At least in his cave there had been room enough to stretch, but the ceiling here was so low he had to stoop down. There was another doorway up ahead, light streaming in from around the corner as the voices continued.
"And if I want your opinion I'll ask for it! Now shut up and help him get this thing open."
Dangit. I can't sneak up on them, and all I've got's a lousey stick. Turn back, the logical part of his mind said, get RWBY and JNPR it said, let the trained fighters take care of it. … Or …
In the bookstores back storage room basically a repurposed garage leftover from the buildings stint as a mom and pop dustshop. The two thugs did their best to hurry the owner and manger along as he fumbled with the tumblers on an old rusted metal safe. The owner for his part, was expecting another screamed order or the flat of the head thugs sword on his arm again, but instead he heard a whistle.
~Wee-whooo~.
"The hell?" The owner felt the head thugs attention leave him, both turning back to look at the teenager in a dark brown and grey cowboy outfit looking at them from across the room, an old broom handle slung over his shoulders.
"You know,' he said casually, spinning the staff with an almost lazy air. "I'm a lil new to this whole people thang, but I'm purty sure that ain't how ya do it."
"Beat it cowboy," the lead thug snapped, red blade glinting in the overhead lamp light, the same shade as his glasses and tie. "This's none of your business."
"Well then," Wyatt smiled. "How bout I make it mah business?"
"Let him go," The second thug hissed, almost pleading with his partner. "He's just one kid, and you heard what Shrike said."
"He also said no witnesses, and this kid's seen too much."
"This kid," Wyatt snarled, stomping his staff down on the floor, "is given ya'll jus one warn'n. Leave the old man'n his store alone, or else." The lead thug didn't even turn to face his partner and hostage.
"Get the safe open, I'll deal with him." The other thug nodded, pulling out a handgun and putting it to the owners side as his sword wielding partner advanced on Wyatt. The grimm-teen took his staff in both hands, shifting to something he thought was a combat stance he remembered seeing. The sword thug actually hesitated for a moment, stopping, probably wondering if he was looking at some upstanding upstart, or an actual student from Beacon. Then his face twisted into a snarl and he charged.
Wyatt had no human reflexes, no useful ones at least, but as the red blade came down toward his chest, something else took over his muscles. His right foot slid back, and he snapped the staff vertical, catching the red blade's edge in the wood. Then his grip shifted, right arm forcing the staff's bottom end up into the thugs groin, the force carrying him up off his feet, then back to the ground on his back. Without even thinking Wyatt brought a boot down on the suited man's head, sending him wailing and cursing as he clutched his face. Wyatt barely a had a moment to wonder what he had just done, before white hot agony tore through his side.
"Bad move kid," the other thug snarled, gun trained and smoking as the store owner collapsed in a fainted heap. "I didn't want to kill you, but you just had to be a hero."
"Yeah, he has a problem."
The gun-thug spun, barrel aimed at the new voice, only for a crowbar to find his skull mid turn. He wasn't that dazed however, but a swift kick to his nethers quickly changed that.
"Mommy ." He squeaked before falling over, curling into a ball and whimpering.
"Moron," Ellen spat, walking past him and over to Wyatt, helping the taller ex-grimm to his feet. "Well? Had enough heroics for the night?"
"Maybe," he groaned, still holding the bullet wound in his side. "Okay, go-head'n say I told ya so."
"Later," She snapped, putting herself under the pale giants injured side and supporting him. "First let's get you patched up."
"Yeah," He sighed, feeling the hot red leaking from his side, the final agonizing proof they were now fully, 100 percent human. Then as they approached the door and hallway back to the store, that clarifying pain's twin appeared in Ellen's shoulder.
"AAHH!"
"Sorry kids." The third thug stepped out of the shadows behind them, long barrel pistol aimed almost lazily toward them. "I can't let you do that. But thanks, really," he smiled nodding to his unconscious cohorts. "I've been trying to shut those two up all night. Come on you pathetic little dust stains, GET UP! Thunder, stop nursing your nuts and get the truck! Skye." He growled, stomping over to the sword thug still cradling his face, dragging him up by his suits collar and slamming him against the rooms roll up metal door.
"Get this through your thick skull. I'm the boss! You do what I say, how I say it! That means you don't go off half cocked just because some golden boy kid thinks he's tougher than you. Not him, not his girlfriend, and especially not Juniors blonde Bi!"
Before he could finish the syllable, a yellow gauntlet punched through the doors metal, grabbing both thugs before dragging them through it.
"Sorry," Yang smiled, sweet as a rattle snake, Ember Celica chambering a new round. "I didn't quite catch that last part." The thugs tried to move, only for a white glyph to appear beneath their feet before they were frozen solid.
"Weiss!" Yang whined, looking up at the roof where the heiress was still pointing Myrtenaster toward the open lot behind the building. "You are such a buzzkill!"
"And you enjoy combat far too much," She snapped, floating down on a levitation glyph as the other students stormed into the storage room. The last thug tried to bring up his gun to meet the students pouring into the storage room, only to feel cold steel against his throat.
"Don't even try," Blake warned, amber eyes glowing in the low light. Pyrrha and Ren both trained their weapons on the remaining thug as Blake disarmed him, leaving Jaune and Nora searching for any other enemies before the blonde knight clapped eyes on the blood seeping from the grimm-teens, and his eyes turned to blue steel.
"Nora, Pyrrha, check the store. Ren."
"On it." The ninja had already holstered his weapons, kneeling down beside Ellen and Wyatt as Weiss sprinted up. The grimm teens winced, biting back screams as Ren prodded their wounds. "They're clean. Through and throughs."
"Dolts," Weiss spat under her breath, waving Ren back as she cast a healing glyph beneath them, the bullet wounds knitting back together until only faint scar tissue was left. "There. Now what the Dust were you thinking?! You can't just go barging in like some, some!"
"Cowboy?" Wyatt groaned, sitting himself up and rolling his shoulders as Weiss's glare trained on Ellen.
"You two are lucky those bullets didn't explode your skulls! What were you trying to prove anyway?"
"Nothing," Ellen seethed, rubbing her shoulder and the raw tissue. "But golden boy here thought it would be a good idea to be the hero."
"They had a gun to the guys head. Someone had to do something." That stopped the Schnee heiress in her tracks, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she looked over toward where Ren was examining the still unconscious store owner.
"He's alright. But he'll be better in a hospital." Jaune nodded, turning to shout down the hall when Pyrrha and Nora returned.
"There's no one else," the spartan said quickly. "It was only the three of them."
"Did you call the police?"
"No need," Blake growled, still holding the third thug at sword point. "These idiots tripped a silent alarm the moment they walked in. We should go."
"We can't," Weiss reasoned steadfastly. "We need to give our statements to the authorities." Yang finally stopped glaring at the trapped thugs, stomping inside to look at the third, familiar confusion settling over her face.
"You're one of Juniors," she started, closing the distance as the man squirmed in place. "What's He doing ordering robberies?"
"I-I don't know," he stammered quickly, trying with all his might to escape the brawlers wrath. "All he said was there was a guy willing to pay a crap-ton of lien for what's in the safe. Shriek's the one wanted to take this job not me!"
"What's inside?" Blake asked, pressing her blade if only slightly harder into the thug's neck.
"I don't know I swear!"
"Well," Yang smirked, casually punching the thug in the temple and rendering him unconscious, already walking over to the metal lock box and cocking her other fist back. "One way to find out." Weiss immediately saw her teammates plan.
"Yang No!"
BANG!
Ember Celica's blast rang through the air like a gong, a firedust round punching the safes dials clean out of their hole, and allowing the door to slowly creak open on rusty hinges. When the smoke finally cleared, Yang, Weiss, Blake and JNPR looked inside, the flickering light shining off …
"Nothing?!" Ellen yelled, storming over to the source of all her latest troubles. "Are you telling me these idiots actually tried to rob an empty box?!"
"Apparently," Yang shrugged. "Come on, Rubes Gren and Mao are still waiting outside, so let's beat it before the cops show up. Being interviewed by police is not how you start a weekend with a yang." For once Weiss didn't groan at the blonde brawlers terrible pun, merely nodded and ushered herself and the others out of the store, so quickly she didn't see Ellen fall behind.
No one's that stupid. She turned back to the broken lock box, kneeling down to peer inside, turning her head as the flickering light caught something besides the rusted metal walls.
"Hello precious," she smirked her eyes tracing over the object hidden within. It was a glass urn, the surface so black it was no wonder they hadn't seen it at first. The vessel was maybe the size of Yang's head, with squat rounded shape that tapered toward the top and bottom from a bulged midsection, and sealed with a simple tipped lid.
"ELLEN!" Weiss shouted from outside.
"Uh, yeah I'll be right there!" Ellen listened for any footsteps coming back, ready to bolt and look as innocent as possible, but none came, and the temptation only grew. It was just sitting there, door wide open, practically begging her to take it. Like a giant fishing line and hook, with the urn an all too tempting lure. Slowly, Ellen reached inside..
She gingerly picked the urn from its shelf, lifting the dust covered glass into the rooms dim light. Inside the safe it had appeared solid black, but now Ellen could see the faintest traces of faded color all across its surface, while her hands traced intricate moldings so subtle it was no wonder the urn appeared so plain.
"You are a pretty one," She smiled, the vases glass surface reflecting her smile and pale face. "Hello my precious shiny."
She kept turning it over in her hands before one of the carvings caught her eye. It was clearly meant to be a man's face, complete with hair and a beard of flowing curls, the designs picking out even the smallest strand of hair. The lips were set in a hard scowl, and the eyes stared up at Ellen, seeming to both beg and challenge her to gaze upon their image. All the while, the urns lid shone with its own tantalizing light.
One little peek can't hurt. She told herself, a greedy smirk growing over her face. And if those morons went through all this trouble for you, something valuable has to be inside. Shifting the urn into the crook of her arm she reached up, two fingers clasping around the lids knob, slowly lifting it off its lip,
"Hurry up Elly!" Even after everything she'd been through, Mao's shout was loud and sudden enough to startle the ex-nevermore. Her shoulders jerked up, her arm shifted, and before she knew it, the urn crashed to the floor, shattering in a spray of black glass.
"Dammit!" She immediately knelt down to search the remains, but quickly realized that either its contents had been made of the same black glass, or the vase had been empty all along.
"Ellen what's the hold up?!"
"I'm coming! Jeez!" She ran toward the door, leaving a pile of glittering glass flickering in the light, stopping only a for a moment when a glint of red caught her eye. Weiss was only slightly surprised when Ellen emerged from the store carrying the thugs sword.
Had they stayed just a moment more, they would have seen the shards rough edges begin to soften, the pieces flattening and spreading as their surface turned slick. Sharp onyx fragments became glistening droplets of inky black, spreading until they formed a wide mirror like puddle, thickening with the dust and dirt covering the storage room. Then from the puddle, a long muscled shape took form, rising out of the slick sludge until the mass lifted itself into the air, growing and writing until a five digit hand reached up to grasp the dusted air.