...Legends...
...Stories...
...scattered through time...
Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts, of a forgotten past. The shards of history are scattered to remind them that we are all of the same fabric, the cosmos, under a shattered beacon that unites us all. It was not always this way. Man, born from dust, was strong, wise, and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness - creatures of destruction - the creatures of Grimm - set their sights on man and all of his creations. These forces clashed, and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man's brief existence to the void. However, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man's passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named "Dust," a gift from the soil, the ashes of remnants. Nature's wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness, and in the shadow's absence came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life. But even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone... darkness will return. An eternal cycle, a story of death and rebirth, the reincarnation of the beginning of all things.
...one day, it will end...
.
.
.
It was dark in the city, hardly a soul at all walking the streets, so early in the morning. But things were almost always peaceful behind the protected walls of Vale, a city so close to the forces of good. At least, that was what anyone in the Kingdom of Vale would say, more or less. Yet, in the darkness, just outside of a small shop that happened to be open at late and early hours, a man in a beige coat and a black hat strolled with a gang of miscreants following his way, a cigar freshly lit in his lips, and a smile crossing his cheeks. In his sight on the other side of a road was the little shop, Dust Til Dawn. It was a clever name, but unwise to advertise its business in the Dust Trade. Dust was the pinnacle of mankind's power, as it was once its only natural resource to protect it from the beasts that stalked the outskirts of the Kingdom of Vale, the Grimm. These days it was no easy task to obtain such things at a low cost; but tonight, would be his lucky day.
"Alright! Alright! I'm tired fellas, and I got a pinched nerve in my neck, and a massage waiting back at the hideout, so let's just get this little raid over with, Hm!?" his agitation was apparent, tapping his cane against the concrete in impatience.
"Roman," said one of the men in black suits and sunglasses, "how do we know there ain't a bunch a guards in there, right now?"
Roman grimaced, swinging the end of his cane into the man's cheek, leaving a bruise, "Don't call me Roman again. It's Sir, or your highness maybe." he shrugged and raised his voice an octave. "It's just an old croak in there, perfectly innocent little pop shop. Now stop whining and follow me!"
As the man recovered and rubbed his cheek, and as Roman walked furiously toward the little shop, they prepared for a small heist.
…
Meanwhile, inside of Dust Til Dawn, a girl with a red cowl sat at the book section, reading through a weapons magazine, eager excitement clear on her expression. She was alone, the old man at the register allowing her to read freely as long as she didn't stir trouble. Indeed, it was the perfect hour: quiet, cold, a little smelly from the dry snack section. It was a nice break from the long journey she had taken, which was nearly done. As she read the magazine in one hand, she held her trusty weapon beside her on the floor, Crescent Rose, a gun scythe made by herself and with few equal counterparts to match its brilliance.
"Ooooo!" she hopped with her butt on the floor. "The weapons here are so much better than the ones at Signal!" suddenly she gasped when a picture of a customizable semi-automatic rifle caught her eye. "So PRETTY!"
Her left eye flashed with white light, and she let out a light scream as she covered her face. The light nearly penetrated the entire shop, but she managed to stop herself just in time for it to pass as a flashlight of sorts. The old man peered over the aisle, and the Red-Cowled girl jumped up from the floor with her hand still over her eye.
"Sorry!" she waved, her cape following along, knocking over a few cans on a shelf, her catching them before they hit the floor and awkwardly placing them back in place. "It won't happen again!"
The old man laughed, charmed by her quirkiness and high pitched voice. She sat back down on the floor, pulling her hand away from her face, opening her eyes and looking around with strain.
"Great!" she pouted. "Now I'm blind again."
She could see well enough from her right eye, but the left was filled with a silver haze in her vision, a stinging sensation emanating from behind her eyeball.
"Where's Yang when you need her?"
The door to the shop opened with a kick, and the Red-Cowled girl peered over the aisle, her head just out of view of the doorway. It was Roman and his miscreants, pointing their guns at the shopkeeper. The old man raised his hands up, and Roman slammed his elbow on the register with his chin resting gently resting on his palm, his hips swaying. He looked down through the glass on the counter, a massive collection of Dust crystals strewn about for sale lying underneath.
"You know how hard it is to find a Dust shop open at this hour." said Roman, a friendly grin overcoming him.
…
In the skies over Vale, a cargo helicopter flew over the city, a woman with long black hair, yellow eyes, and gorgeous scarlet dress leaning against the wall, staring out into the open.
"It's not far now." she said, her voice shrill, sensual, spiced with an almost carnal desire. "Our poor boy Roman, Always needs a babysitter."
The pilot turned the helicopter as he became familiar with the airspace, "Should be easy. A get in and get out kind of operation, right miss Cinder?"
"Not quite." she walked behind the pilot's seat, stroking her fingers over his helmet with a coy demeanor. "Nothing easy is worth anything, didn't anyone tell you?"
"what do you mean?"
Cinder clenched her fist, her nails piercing through the skin, until blood drained down her palm. She held her hand to her mouth, licking the blood clean, flames erupting around her fingers as she slowly rubbed her tongue over her upper lip with her head held high.
"The blood of a Branwen runs deep, oh so deep." she extinguished the flames with a breath, squeazing her arms around herself and pushing her breasts high with a moan that sounded more like a wild animal than a human. "I can taste it. I can feel it inside of me. Summer's child…"
She set her eyes on a brick building outside of the window, observing the chaos from an apparent battle with a Hunter on the roof.
"... Ruby."