Chapter 20: Cover
"Are ye dim, boy?"
The question catches me off-guard, the sheer audacity spewing from the old man's mouth rendering me temporarily mute.
"Thirty-five. Thirrrrty-five. A bit smaller than last year, but thats how many slots are up for grabs. Just 'cause Beacon needs 200 bodies don't mean they gonna their lower standards for those Hunter-wannabes that attended prep school.
Prep school…? Was the crazy, old coot talking about schools like Signal?
"Either public fills 'em, or they stay empty. So sign your name or scram. You're ruining business." I could see his cheeks color as he hurled an ultimatum towards me, droplets of spittle soiling the oak table between us.
My tail thrashed against my back, silently pleading for a promise of violence against the old man. Responding to its wish, I inched forward.
"I'm bad for business? Because I'm a Faunus?" I ran my thumb along the tips of my fingers, searching the corners of my mind for any mention of a racist Beacon representative. This was surprisingly new.
The man bent back as if struck, an astonished look on his normally hard face. I watched at how his face turned morphed into a red ball, eyes glistening with unspoken rage. Instinctively, I threw my leg outward, slamming the side of the table straight into the elder's protruding gut as he barreled towards me with arms outstretched.
With pain lining his voice, he whimpered out a string of curses."Calling me a racist…I oughta wring your scrawny neck. Fuckin' kid talking to me like that." He spat out a glob of blood, rubbing the sleeve of his ragged shirt against his yellow teeth. "I just don't want no kid dressed up in bandages scaring off my applicants—ain't gonna let my pay get docked. No one wants to be around when some reject mummy be crowdin my stand."
My lips curled up in amusement, finding the man's words too humorous to maintain my blank facade. Me, an assassin? Sienna would be on the ground, rolling around in a fit of laughter if she ever heard such a joke.
"Initials okay, old timer?"
I could tell he wanted to say something else, perhaps another curse or two, but eventually, he flipped me off before handing me a pen. Guess I was more trouble than I was worth. "Yeah, yeah—not like you got a chance at making it. Just make sure you sound off when they start calling off names tomorrow at 8 in the morning in the Warehouse district.
With a quick swipe of the pen, I jotted down the initials of the next identity I would assume. The old man peered over, edging himself closer to steal a look at what I had written.
"S.D.R," he mouthed over the words, finding the odd combination of letters distasteful. "Bet it's a shit name."
I couldn't help but agree. All names paled in comparison to the one Sienna had given me—Terra Khan just felt natural.
Tossing the pen back to the red-faced overseer, I took off into the commercial district of Vale, meandering through the countless packed stores.
This was it—the start of something grand.
In a few days, players from all around Remnant would descend upon this Kingdom, each with their own dreams and aspirations not knowing the trials that lay in store for them.
A dust store comes into sight, its transparent windows showcasing a collection of valuable dust products. The shopkeeper waved a gentle hello as I passed by, beckoning for me to take a look at his wares.
I moved on, ignoring the shaking in my arms.
From afar, I could see a childishly drawn sign that read "OPEN". Curious by the sudden thrashing of my heart, I peeked through the layers of dust that piled against the window and saw a middle-aged man stacking books one on top of each other.
Ripping myself from the familiar sight, I stalked forward and disappeared back into the crowd. One more…just need to do one more thing before I start. Finding myself a mostly secluded alley, I leaned against a grimy wall and inched myself downward.
I remember waiting there for hours, mentally going through all the relevant information I could muster up from my memories. The dust shop, the catalyst that brought Ruby out into the world, Tukson's Book Trade, the introduction to Emerald and Mercury—all important events on their own, but ultimately too chaotic for me to insert myself into RWBY's storyline without altering the team's placements
So where did that leave me?
Bouncing my head against the alley's stony wall, I said, "Junior's Bar." I just had to wait until nightfall before making me move. It wouldn't do to attract any unwanted attention when there's a Glynda roaming about in the town.
And so I waited, passing the time by humming a soft tune I had heard so often from Sienna.
Once night had fallen, I picked myself up and wandered to the crumpling remains of the once prestigious nightclub that had captivated the hearts of Vale's youth population. As I walked amongst the wreckage, loud crackles of glass shattering sounded off at my feet. Whistling appreciatively, I surveyed the decimated bar.
Yang sure did a number on this place.
My admiring came to an end once a bearded vest-wearing man threw a glass in my direction. "If you couldn't tell, bars closed."
"I'm here for information, not drinks."
"Still closed." Junior turned his back, beginning to busy himself with the broom he held in his hands.
"Just point me in a direction and I'll be on my way."
He whirled around, his face seething at my persistence. "Oh really? Then that way, straight out of my fucking bar!"
Putting a smile on my face, I pleaded to the bar owner. "Reconsider, Junior. It's important."
Hurdling the broom across the room, Junior let out a scream. "That's it. That's fucking it! First that blonde-haired devil, now I got some mummy-looking motherfucker starting shit with me. No way is Junior Xiong going to start letting people walk all over him. MILTIA! MELANIE! Get your asses over here, now!"
Hearing the sound of heels striking against the floor, I tilted my head toward the disturbance.
"Ready for round two, blonde bit…I don't know you." Retracting the blades at her feet, she craned her neck toward her employer. "Friend of yours, Junior?"
"Would I bother with calling you two if this guy was a friend? Get him!" Things were looking rather unpleasant, Junior already looking for blood within a few minutes of meeting him. I don't get it, Ava always complimented me on my personality.
Flicking her hair, the teenage girl drawled out, "But like, what did he do? Not like he could've trashed this place up anymore than the blonde girl did. It's already a dump."
"Mi-Miltia." The girl by Miltia's side uttered out a name, carefully grasping at the skirt of her sister's dress.
"Doesn't matter. He pissed me off so that's all you need to know."
"Whatever. Guy's got a creepy smile anyway." Once again unfurling her weapons, she sauntered my way. Why was it that so many women in my life wore heels on a regular basis?
"Oh? My mother quite likes my smile." Whenever I showed it to her, she would always slap my back and congratulate me for having the best and brightest smile out of all the White Fang.
"Yeah, well, no offense but your mom must be pretty retarded—sorry not sorry." Stretching her back, she said, "Let's hurry this up Melanie, there's a box of ice cream waiting for us."
"Miltia!" The teenager with the white dress squeaked something out again, but for the life of me, I couldn't find it in me to laugh at her obnoxiously high-pitched voice. Retarded? Her voice echoed in my head, endlessly mocking the person who saved me from myself. Why?…Why say something like that?
Covering the distance, my hand clamped down on the offending teenager's mouth. I brought her close, exerting the barest of pressure ensuring she wouldn't escape, and playfully whispered, "Extras should be quiet."
By the time her twin had clawed at me, I had already retreated to Junior's side.
"You fucking cocksucker!" The mascara painted along her eyes had begun to drip down her cheeks, staining her pale skin. "I'll force feed you your own tail!" She struggled in her sister's hold, trashing wildly like a feral beast.
Halfheartedly covering my ears at the sharp whining, I repeated my request to Junior.
"I need information. Can you help me, Junior?"
The bartender nodded, downing an unnamed alcoholic drink before stiffly resting his elbows on the counter. "What can I do for you?" He threw out one of his hands, motioning for the twins to back down.
Clapping my hands excitedly at Junior giving into my request, I said, "Just something simple—I need a map with all the possible routes Beacon's first-years would use to get to the airships."
He looked at me oddly, squinting his onyx eyes, before reaching behind the counter and drudging up a dusty map of Vale. "Simple enough. Hold on for a second, I'll mark them down for you."
Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked him a question. "Aren't you going to ask what it's for?"
"I've been in the business long enough to know that that's a bad idea. But, I gotta ask kid, what's White Fang doing in this part of town?"
"Oh? What gave you that idea?" Was it the way I acted, resorting to violence to get what I wanted? Or was it just the tail swishing at my backside?
"Call it a hunch. And consider your answer as a payment for my services." Straightening his tie, he looked at me expectantly.
"You're confused, Junior. I'm just an aspiring Huntsman."