V2E1: In Tragedy's Wake, Arm Thyself

Smoke billowed from Anon's mouth, cigar firmly held between his teeth. He walked amongst the black silhouettes of Vale's people. His hurried steps reverbed with the clacking of rubber heels on the pavement. He passed through them like they were made of smoke.

"That's fucking freaky still..." He muttered to himself.

He felt a cold sweat build on his back. He's been wracked with this feeling of nervous dread for a few days now. His mind kept returning to Tukson and his ultimate fate at the beginning of Volume 2. A quick back and forth from his scroll somewhat eased his heart but he needed to make sure that he left Vale safely.

He felt his vision distort as he's hit by a wave of nausea. He remembered when he first arrived in Remnant.

"This shit..." He coughed harshly, clutching his shirt at the heart. "...Again?!"

He suffered a coughing fit before stumbling through another shade, landing on his front. He punched himself in the sternum with one last dry cough before picking himself back up.

"What in the fuck was that?!" He asked aloud as he looked around frantically. "I'm not back in Sin City am I?!"

To his surprise, he was still in Remnant. His nose warned him of his location before he even had the chance to realize where he was.

"I'm at the docks?" He noticed.

Suddenly, he heard shouting.

"Not so funny, huh, funny man!" Someone yelled belligerently.

"Think that banana's gonna save you now?" Another voice taunted mockingly. "Ya tailed moron!"

Wait, Banana? Tailed?

His head shot up like a rocket and was met by a scene that left a sour taste in his mouth.

A blond, muscular man wearing an open shirt and rolled-up jeans was getting the tar beaten out of him. A golden tail popped out of his waist, identifying him as the missing member of Volume 1's cast.

"Fellas," Sun said quite calmly, despite being on the ground and being attacked. "Can we just talk about this?"

Yup, that's Sun alright.

He sighed mentally.

I better deal with this before it gets worse.

Anon walked over, picking up on the situation.

"Think we would let you get on the boat without paying, you bilge rat?!"

"Godsdamned, no-good stowaway!"

"I didn't get caught for the entire trip!" Sun declared, quite offended. "I'm a great stowaway!"

Anon got closer with hands balled up in a fist.

"Oy!" Anon bellowed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The pair momentarily stopped kicking the downed Faunus. Upon closer inspection, the pair bore the Vale City Police Department badges. Anon rolled his eyes.

"You are not helping your stereotype."

"What do you want?" The belligerent cop. "We're dealing with a stowaway."

"You think that's proper procedure to pound the purp to a pulp?" Anon alliterated with crossed arms.

"What's it to you?" The mocking cop said in annoyance. "He's just some Faunus scum, breaking the law. Give him time and he'll join the White Fang."

Anon mentally facepalmed.

"I'm not gonna even dignify that retarded statement with a retort," He said, already done with those two idiots' nonsense. "Get off him and fuck off back to the donut convention."

The lawmen looked at each other incredulously.

"You do know that you're talking to law enforcement, right?" The mocking cop said with a cocked eyebrow.

"I've gathered as much." He took another puff from his cigar, looking down at Sun. "You can stop pretending now, mate."

Sun stuck up a pair of finger guns before acrobatically rolling backwards into a handstand from lying flat on his back, finishing the move by springboarding himself back and behind Anon. Anon grabbed him by the tail before he could run off. Sun went to glare at him but Anon's shadow-veiled eyes full of menace turned him docile right away. He turned back to the pair.

"I'll be dealing with this now, get a move on." He said dismissively.

"What?!" The mocking cop shouted in disbelief.

"Who the heck do you think you are!?" The belligerent cop demanded to know.

Anon nonchalantly pulled out his scroll and presented the pair with his student card.

"Huntsman-in-Training, and..."

He pulled on Sun's tail, eliciting a pained cry.

"Ow! Easy on the tail dude!"

"This idiot," He completely ignored his fellow's plea. "Is also an H-I-T."

The Mocking cop crossed his arms, unbelieving.

"Really now?"

Anon let go of Sun's tail, only to nudge him in the arm expectantly.

"Oh, yeah!" He pulled out his scroll and showed his student card. "See, I'm legit too!"

The mocking cop grumbled while the belligerent shook his head angrily.

"He still committed a crime, you think Huntsmen are immune to the law?"

Anon deadpanned him.

"Do you have any idea of how many warrants for disorderly conduct and drunken antics Qrow Branwen has on his fucking record? And how many times he's been let off the hook?"

The pair looked at each other before nodding slowly. Anon sighed.

"Look, let me deal with this."

"Why should we?" Mocking said.

Anon dialled Glynda's number into his scroll, still looking deadpan at the cops. Once Glynda picked up, he made sure that her video feed was visible.

"Mister Hope. Is there something you needed?" She asked politely.

The cops froze.

"Yeah, I just need you to help with a situation going on."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Tell me, Miss Goodwitch, what is the right course of action for when two police officers assault an unarmed H-I-T Faunus, who's not fighting back, for a minor infraction?"

The chilling silence coming from the speaker made the pair sweat furiously.

"That is quite the dilemma you have given me, Anon." She finally said, her tone arctic.

Anon tilted the scroll so that she could see the cops, her glacial glare narrowing. The pair were crapping themselves at this point since THE Glynda Goodwitch was giving them a death glare.

"The infraction was minor, correct?" She asked.

"Stowaway."

She shook her head.

"Have him apologize to the captain then send him to me. I'll discipline him properly," She said normally.

Her glare returned to the cops.

"As for you..." The freezing tone was enough to give frostbite. "I'll be in touch with your district chief."

She straightened her back behind the screen.

"Dismissed," She told the pair.

The cops bumbled for a bit before leaving with heads hung low. Anon gave Glynda a thankful nod.

"Thanks for the assist, I owe you a drink."

"No problem, Anon." She paused for a moment. "And... I'll take you up on that offer."

Anon shot her a wink before cutting the link. He turned to Sun, who stayed put, to his surprise.

"Thanks for the help, dude!" Sun was jovial, as expected.

Anon smiled lazily.

"No probs, Bob."

He checked his scroll's clock with gritted teeth.

"Shit!" He cursed. "This is not good!"

He pocketed his scroll but before he went running, he looked back to Sun.

"Well, you heard the lady," He told the monkey king. "Go apologize and head to Beacon."

Sun shot him a smile.

"Sure can!"

"Good man." Anon turned back around and went into a sprint. Before he was out of earshot, he heard Sun call him out.

"Hey! What's your name!?"

"Anon Hope!" He yelled back.

"Awesome! I'm Sun Wukong!"

"I know!"

He smirked at the exclamation of surprise and confusion before running full speed toward Tukson's book trade.

"I hope I'll be there in time..."

...

Anon's lung burned as he exerted himself, the pain in his legs began to fade, being replaced by numbness. He groaned as he kept running.

"Just... A bit... Further!"

Two people turned the corner and his heart stopped. Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black were walking away from the shop nonchalantly, with Emerald stretching her arms in the air while Mercury was reading a comic. The faint smell of blood lingering in their clothes.

"What's with that?" Emerald questioned her gray-haired companion, pointing to his book.

"What? I like the pictures!"

The duo kept bickering as they passed him. His pupils rescinded and he felt his legs shake. His eyes began to sting as did his heart. He walked shakily towards Tukson's shop with a heart heavier than solid lead.

The shop was dark as the lights were turned all the way down. The window sills were also down, blocking all light. Anon reached for the light switch. He clenched his eyes shut, already knowing he was too late. He turned on the lights, before falling to his knees in a puddle of blood.

Anon sat at a police station's office, sitting cross-legged and holding his face. The police officer that had been asking him questions was kind enough to provide him with a cup o' joe. The coffee was bland and tasted kind of burnt, but the gesture was sweet. She had been nothing but accommodating and understanding, if a bit too soft. The few questions she gave him were easily answered.

Before long, she bid her goodbyes as a familiar pair entered the room.

"Mister Hope," Ozpin greeted.

"Oz," Anon replied half-heartedly. "Glynda."

Ozpin took a seat in front of him while Glynda sat next to him, holding his shoulder supportively.

"We were told about what happened," Glynda told gently. "It's must have been upsetting."

Anon shook his head side to side, his eyes dull.

"It's not the first time I turned up to a friend's home just to find out they were dead."

Glynda flinched at the grim answer.

"Oh..." She exhaled sympathetically.

Ozpin cleared his throat, bringing the attention to him.

"As upsetting as the situation may be, we are still in the middle of an investigation."

Anon shrugged.

"I already gave my piece," he explained. "Tukson was sheltering Ex-White Fang members, so he had a target on his back."

Ozpin, has always, pulled out a paper sleeve containing documents.

"Indeed, Miss Belladonna has confirmed as such."

Anon's eyes widened.

"Oh god..." His expression became troubled. "I didn't even think about that! Blake..."

Glynda nodded sadly.

"She was quite... Shaken by the revelation."

"Fuck!"

Ozpin gave him the sleeve. Anon took it and riffled through them, quickly skimming over the papers.

"Unfortunately, we have little to go on."

"The fuck do you mean?!" Anon threw the sleeve back at Ozpin. "The shop's camera feed should have something!"

Ozpin shook his head.

"That's the problem," He explained. "The cameras should have something."

Anon's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"The fuck's that mean?"

Ozpin nodded to Glynda who passed a scroll tablet to him. It showed the camera feed for the past day. Anon's confusion deepened before he came to a realization.

"The camera feed's fucked."

"Indeed." Ozpin agreed. "After careful examination, we came to the conclusion that the camera feed has been looped."

He pointed at a few instances where the feed obviously resets.

"And somewhat poorly at that."

Anon slouched in his seat.

"Unfortunately, the culprit remains at large."

Anon growled under his breath. Ozpin gave him a knowing look.

"But I'm guessing that you already know who the culprit is."

Anon sighed.

"When they make themselves known," Anon left his seat. "Keep an eye on Team CMEN from Haven Academy."

Ozpin nodded.

"And where will you be?"

He glared at the old wizard.

"My friend just lost someone important to her." He chastised. "Take a fucking guess, Ozma."

Anon left the office in a hurry. Ozpin shook his head with a soft smile.

"For someone who did not want to be involved, you seem to be trying so hard to change things that were set in motion eons before today."

Finding Blake wasn't too hard as she was sitting on the curb outside of the police station. Anon stared sadly at her through the window. She stared listlessly at the busy street, only reacting to the sound of the station door. As soon as he left the station, Blake jumped to her feet and locked him in a hug. He returned it silently, the only noise that came from him was a nasal sigh as he felt damp spots forming on his shirt.

...

Even as they departed back to the dorms, Blake refused to be left alone. He didn't really complain, having known what it was like to lose family.

Though, it would be nice of her to not wait outside the bathroom like a creep.

In any case, the both of them stuck together for the day. Anon smiled slightly as he looked at his scroll, his messages filled to the brim with condolences and well wishes from the RWBY/JNPR and CVFY chat rooms. His smile soured with a shake of his head; the memories from his time before Remnant, once ebbing, now flowing back to him. He let out a heavy sigh.

"It happened again." He breathed out quietly. "I'm fucking useless..."

Blake, who sat back to back with him, obviously heard him. Her ears perked and twitched at the self-deprecation. She turned her head, seeing the back of his head from the corner of her puffy eyes.

"Again?" She asked hoarsely, obviously strained from crying.

Anon pulled out the strange scroll-like device from back at the docks. With a swipe of his finger, he pulled up a photo. It was quite old, judging by how wildly different Anon looked. Speaking frankly, he looked like a delinquent. He was slav-squatting on a bench, glaring at the camera in annoyance. His hair was slicked to the side and the sides were shaved. His ears sported edgy ear studs. His nose was also bandaged, clearly having been broken prior to the photo being taken. His clothes were similar to his current style if a bit on the fancy side. His white, form-fitting shirt was covered by a slick black and blue coat with an intricate motif Blake was unfamiliar with. The belt that held his comfortable-looking trousers was another stylish piece. The belt buckle looked custom made, with thorned vines circling what seemed to be a star, but it was covered in cracks similar to shattered glass. Bringing the whole outfit together was a nice pair of slick slip-on shoes. His blue eyes were locked in an aggressive frown but were full of life, contrasting his once empty dead eyes.

Blake snorted for the first time today.

"Wow, you look like you went through a phase."

"Yeah... Not particularly proud of that time in my life." He admitted with a lighthearted shrug.

Blake narrowed her eyes at the picture.

"Why are your eyes blue?"

Anon stuck a finger in his eye and removed a contact lens. The brown was replaced by vibrant blue eyes.

"I used to resent my old man pretty hard." He explained, a bitter smile on his face. "It's the only thing he left me with."

Blake leaned closer to examine his azure orbs. His eyes were very pretty, Blake realized. The deep, gorgeous blue was unmarred by any defect and contrasted with the healthy white sclera.

"You have beautiful eyes..." She said absentmindedly.

Anon blushed at the sudden compliment.

"Uh... Thanks..." He said quietly as he put the lens back.

He cleared his throat.

"Anyhow, that's not what I wanted to show you."

The photo had two other people in it. The two girls couldn't have been more different if they tried. The first girl was hanging off of Anon's shoulder, shooting a wink at the camera with a peace sign and showing off her pearly whites. Her hair was a golden ponytail with a cute hairband, somewhat contrasting her naturally tanned skin. She wore what could only be considered borderline inappropriate attire with a nearly transparent white blouse open at the front, showing off her flashy lacy bra. A cream-coloured cardigan hung lazily on her shoulders and her skirt was so short, it threatened to reveal her daring laces. Thigh-high socks accompanied by candy-pink sneakers made up the rest of her attire. Her one open green eye was happy and bright, full of mischievous glee.

Blake shot a dirty glance at Anon.

"I didn't take you for the kind to go after girls like that."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"I mean, no offence, but..."

"Oh shut up! Besides, that's not the one I was talking about!"

The other girl somewhat reminded Blake of Anon when they first met. She was hunching slightly, timidly holding up a peace sign for the camera. She had really long bright orange hair that looked like it almost reached behind her knees, with a panel of bangs partially covering her eyes. Her freckled face was admittedly quite cute but was mostly hidden by her hair. Her style was similar to Anon's, like she was trying to emulate him but in a girlier way. A button-up shirt with a lazy tie, black-painted nails, lots of piercings on the ears and bracelets on her arms, A long black skirt with a slit that revealed thigh-highs and knee boots. Her outfit felt like she was wearing a punked-up private school uniform. Her pear-shaped body was quite small, being easily dwarfed by Anon and even the other girl, whose stature looked fairly below average. Her big green bespeckled eyes were squinting shyly, looking away and toward Anon.

Blake didn't say a word. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the arm Anon had lifted. He lowered his sleeve, uncovering the small homemade bracelet he always wore. The bracelet was made of woven peach, blue and black fabric. At the center of the bracelet was a small, rudimentary bird made of black fabric. Blake checked the photo again and noticed that it was the same bracelet that Anon wore, although it was white instead of black. The girl in pink had something similar but pink instead of blue and white instead of black. She also wore one but the blue, pink and black.

"She's the one who made me that bracelet," He said neutrally.

He rubbed the worn fabric before his gaze dropped.

"Not bad for a first try." He strained out.

Blake remembered when he had his breakdown before the semester break. She fully turned around and hugged him.

"Just like with her... I couldn't save him. I couldn't save Tukson."

His hand balled up in a fist.

"Anon..."

"I tried warning him beforehand but it didn't matter."

"It's not your fault."

"I tried to reach him but it was too late!"

His knuckles turned white and his frown deepened.

"If I hadn't fucked around, I could've-"

"Do what?" Blake asked sadly. "Die too?"

Anon let out a dejected groan.

"Anything..." He finally said.

"There's nothing you could have done." She tried to comfort him.

"It's hardly comforting to know I'm useless."

Anon let himself down, both physically and metaphorically. He looked up at the bottom of Yang's bed with a lidded stare. Blake laid next to him, her leaning figure in his line of sight.

"I wish I could do more." He groaned at his own weakness. "I WANT to do more."

He closed his eyes, the sudden memory of Torchwick's mocking smirk.

'I don't know why you even try. Look at you! You're barely able to defend yourself and yet you try and play the hero. It's pathetic!'

"Roman was right," He said emptily. "I am pathetic."

He gnashed his teeth as frustration bubbled over. A desire burned in his heart, a dark spark shone in his eyes. He shot to his feet, surprising Blake. He turned to face her, his eyes burning with will.

"I'm tired of being pathetic. I'm tired of not being able to do more." His frown softened, if only by a little bit. "I'm tired of being useless."

Blake caught on to what he wanted, hell, she understood his feeling. When she was a little girl, she too wanted to do more to help others. This is why she joined the White Fang originally.

"What do you suggest?" She asked seriously.

Anon looked down pensively.

"Training, mostly. And weapons," He admitted. "I'll need those and fast."

"Why the rush?"

He looked back at her grimly.

"Something wicked this way comes. Something that's going to bring a whole lot of suffering to Vale and Remnant at large."

Her gaze dropped sadly.

"Is it the Fang?"

"This is much bigger and much worse than just the Fang."

One of her cat ears cocked to the side in confusion as the other stood to attention for his answer.

"What do you mean?"

He walked to the window, gazing outwardly.

"The Fang sold its soul for the sake of vengeance and hatred." He paused. "There are those who would use that dark drive for their own, even darker, ends. And the Fang will do what they're told because it will bring on so much misery to those they hate most."

Blake stayed silent, contemplating what she's been told.

"What do you propose we do then?" She finally asked.

He held out his phone, smiling mysteriously.

"We go off-script and we derail the whole fucking plot."

He looked back at the photo, at who he was. He shook his head with a nostalgic smile.

"I do miss that belt buckle... and the coat," He admitted to himself quietly.

The remainder of the week was spent on planning and research. Blake was surprised by how eager and proactive Anon had been. In essence, the original training regiment that was meant to keep him in shape was simply intensified. Blake, having endured and overcome the White Fang's and Adam Taurus' intense training, knew that she would have to ease him in before getting serious. His lack of aura was another major consideration for why she was starting small. She knew he was tough but without reliable means of protection and quick regeneration, he could get gravely, and permanently, injured. His diet on the other hand was nearly completely overhauled; with most unhealthy foods being relegated to cheat days and a steady, healthy diet replacing them. She did feel pangs of envy at his ridiculous metabolism, having lived off of fast food for the past few weeks and remaining around an average weight.

After multiple days of physical tests to see what would be the best training method, the next step would be to find him a suitable weapon. Anon had already called up Ruby and the two had set up a special project, but he would need more than a pocket knife if he wants to fight up close.

Right now, the pair was out in Vale's commercial district. Anon waved one of the weapon shop's clerks goodbye, leaving the shop with a satisfied smile.

"As it turns out, being friends with Ruby has a few side benefits."

"What? They gave you a discount?" His feline companion queried.

"Kind of. They set me up with a good parts dealer and were willing to give me a shout if they found some good shit."

"That's pretty neat."

The rest of the day wasn't as neat. They went to quite a few weapons workshops and came out empty-handed every time. Most of the quality weapons were, obviously, out of his price range while everything else just didn't feel right in his hands. Anon sighed dejectedly as they left yet another shop.

"This shit's demoralizing."

"Well, there are still many workshops left," Blake said. "There has to be a place where you could find something."

"No shit, the problem is, most of the stuff that might do will have to be custom made or designer," He explained. "And I don't have that kind of dough on me."

"That can be arranged, Master Hope."

The pair turned around and were met with a fair-looking man with hair that looked like it was made of gold and eyes like amethysts. His gem-like eyes gleamed with a strange mix of kindness and greed. He wore an immaculate white suit with stylish black and gold highlights, finished off by diamond cufflinks and shoe buckles. Anon's eyes widened in recognition.

"Mercurius?!" Anon asked apprehensively.

Mercurius smiled invitingly, bearing his pearl-like teeth partially masked by sharp, engraved grills.

"I'm glad you remember me from our days in Sin City."

Blake apprehensively kept one of her hands close to Gambol Shroud. Her ears perked at the mention of this strangely named city.

"You know this guy?" She asked, her eyes sharp and looking for any signs of trouble.

"Kinda?"

Mercurius palmed his forehead ditzily.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" He turned to Blake, giving her a regal bow. "I am Mercurius, Patron of Merchants, Travelers, Messengers, and a whole host of other things!"

Blake took a cautious step back.

"Patron?"

The longer she looked at the eccentric man, the less human he seemed. She just now noticed that his eyes were literal gemstones instead of just being coloured so. Anon put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not in the mood for your shit, Fae." He declared. "What do you want?"

Blake tilted her head at the strange epithet. The Fae's smile did not falter.

"It just seemed to me that you two were in a bit of a tizzy!" He shrugged with mirth in his voice. "I merely wish to help out."

Anon palmed his pocket knife with an angry frown. Mercurius giggled with his crystalline voice at the reaction.

"Very well, very well! No need to be angry."

Mercurius walked over to a particular building, one that wasn't there before.

"You are looking for gear, correct?"

He exaggeratedly held his arms out to present the building, the sign proudly displaying the symbol of an Oni skull flanked by katanas over two tanegashimas* with the title of "Masa Master Workshop."

(A/N: Tanegashimas are old-school Japanese matchlock rifles. Katanas are traditional Japanese swords, but you knew that already.)

"Then have I got the place for you!" Mercurius finished with flair.

Anon's eyes couldn't get any wider.

"The Masas are here?!"

The Patron took his place next to Hope.

"Indeed, Masamune-Sama and Muramasa-Dono have been eager to..." The Fae paused to search for the right word. "Expand... Their business endeavours. Which is where I, with my expertise, come in."

Anon stared at the building in disbelief.

"How?" He asked breathlessly. "How could they be here? How could you be here?"

Mercurius smiled mysteriously, holding a finger to his curled lips.

"We are where we are needed most, Master Hope."

...

The inside of the shop was borderline uninviting in how utilitarian it was presented. Weapons and armours lined the wall, some whose designs were wholly within the realm of realism while others looked straight out of an epic fantasy game or graphic novel. Some looked impossibly alien and eldritch, mind-boggling in how someone could even wear or wield it. The counter took about a quarter of the room, its glass panelling showing off strange objects of unknown utility. Behind the counter was a heavy-looking door with a sign labelling it as "Employee Only". The only decorations were a pair of large Oni skulls mounted on fine wooden plaques above the counter. Blake glared at the skulls with disbelief and apprehension.

"What are these things? They don't look like any Grimm I've heard of."

Mercurius snickered quietly.

"Oh, silly Mistress... Those are not Grimm."

Blake narrowed her eyes at the self-described Patron.

"What are they then?"

"Oni." A grungy voice suddenly croaked.

Blake turned towards the counter. Coming out of the employee-only door was an older man, maybe in his forties, with deep black hair held in a messy ponytail and slanted black eyes. His skin had a farmer's tan, covered by forge-burns and a thin layer of soot. His body was thin and sinewy but his muscles were like steel cabling. He had a seemingly permanent sneer on his face from a gash on his lips, which was not helped by a bad case of resting bitch-face. His clothes were sorely utilitarian in nature, a heavy pair of protective boots, thick trousers and a blacksmith's utility apron made up his wardrobe. A naked chest showing off large muscular arms were the only slightly impractical parts of his style. Multiple tools and hammers hung from a utilikilt.

"Or Ogre if you're a damn foreigner." The man's voice was rough like an iron rasp.

Anon walked forward, looking incredulous. The man's expression softened slightly.

"So it is you, Muramasa-san." Anon's incredulity faded.

"Do you know any other Demonsmiths?" The man now known as Muramasa snarked.

Anon shrugged.

"I mean, I wouldn't put it past her if she tried." Anon sassed back.

Muramasa's sneer turned into an ugly smile.

"It's nice to see you again, Hope-san."

Anon held his hand out, one that Muramasa shook vigorously.

"Likewise, Muramasa-san."

The blacksmith let go of his hand.

"I'm surprised that you're here of all places."

Hope waved his hand dismissively.

"Bah, neither did I and yet, here I am."

"Seems like it." Muramasa agreed. "I'm guessing you aren't here for a pleasant chat."

The employee door opened again.

"Dear me, I'm shocked that you're talking to the clientele!" A new, much more pleasant voice said proudly. "This one must be something good!"

Out of the workshop came Muramasa's complete opposite. The man looked younger than the older man, mid-thirties at worse. His lighter black hair was held in a neat top-knot and his slanted black eyes were much softer, compared to the harsh natural glare of Muramasa. His skin was much cleaner and paler than his counterpart, unsoiled by burns, scars or dirt. His outfit was a carbon copy of Muramasa's, although much cleaner looking compared to the grungy and dirty Demonsmith as well as sporting a protective coat. A headscarf covered parts of his massive forehead.

The man's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when they landed on Anon before his shock turned to happiness.

"Hope-san!"

The man practically lunged over the counter, locking Anon in a vigorous and gleeful forearm shake

"Oh, it has been far too long, my friend!"

Anon chuckled.

"Glad to see you haven't changed, Masamune-san"

Masamune let go of his potential client.

"I'm quite surprised to see that you are here."

"Muramasa thought so too," Anon replied.

"I mean, it makes sense!" Masamune remained incredulous. "Vale is quite... Er, Different to Sin City."

Anon chuckled.

"True, one is a quite literal godless shithole full of mysteries and soul rotting intrigue."

"And the other?"

"Vale City."

Masamune chuckled awkwardly.

"I mean... You aren't incorrect."

...

At this point, Blake was utterly lost at what was happening. First, some strange guy that Anon somehow knows accosts them, then they come across some workshop that appears on no map of the city and finally, Anon is talking with some strange guys that are talking some strange dialect she never heard before. Yet, Anon seemed perfectly able to understand and navigate it. Blake has travelled all over the globe with the Fang and learned her fair share of local dialects, slang and tongues but this was different. The only thing that she understood out of their whole conversation was one that she also got from that Mercurius guy. A place where they all met at some point in time.

Sin City.

Blake had no knowledge of a city or settlement that bore that name, either literally or as a nickname. Her eyes landed back on her friend, who smiled at the two smiths.

"Just who in the world are you?" She whispered to herself.

...

"So!" Masamune clapped his hands together. "I don't doubt that you are here to do business, aye?"

"Yeah," Anon confirmed. "I need something that I can actually fight with."

"Oh?" Muramasa's ear perked. "Not for self-defence but for actual combat?"

"Yeah."

Muramasa grumbled as Masamune stepped forward to the counter, eyes burning with excitement.

"I see! What type of weapon do you need?" Before Hope could answer, Masamune began monologuing. "Of course, a sword would suit you well, I have seen you swinging that pocket knife Muramasa made you but I'm thinking-"

Muramasa clapped one of his hands on his co-worker's mouth.

"Quit being a bother, you overeager wank."

His harsh gaze descended unto something that was clipped to Anon's belt. A large pocket knife. Muramasa's brow cocked in surprise.

"You still have that piece of shit knife?" He asked the owner.

Blake leaned closer as Anon unclipped the self-defence weapon and unfolded it. It was a large folding knife that looked like it was built specifically to fit Anon's hands. The handle was a simple ergonomically designed piece of metal and plastic. The blade was a simple curved single-edged knife design but the edge was what drew the eye. It looked unnaturally sharp for what should be normal steel. Blake could have compared it to Gambol Shroud but even then, this knife made the expertly crafted and engineered weapon look like a dull piece of junk in comparison.

Anon noticed Blake's curious gaze. He held the knife upright, keeping it completely still. He then put his thumb's nail right next to the keen edge and very slowly pushed his nail against the still blade. The tip of the nail gave way against the sharp edge, sliding off like paper in one of those knife sharpness tests. Anon then whistled as he trimmed his digits, the knife cutting the excess nail and leaving behind smooth nails that would impress a seasoned manicurist.

"And the best part is," Anon said smugly. "I haven't even sharpened it once since I got it, which was like... A few years ago, I think?"

"Whoa." Blake admired the blade, her ears twitching behind her bow.

Muramasa sneered as he grabbed the knife out of Anon's hands.

"I knocked this piece of shit out in a week." He glared at his creation with disdain. "Not my best work but it gets the job done."

He looked at Anon, ignoring Blake's shocked and bewildered look.

"Ever got a chance to test it out properly?"

Anon smiled bitterly.

"Kinda."

He lifted his shirt, exposing his stomach. He looked healthier than he did when he first came to Remnant, no longer was he skin and bones. Anon still looked slightly undernourished but he was getting better. The only mark that marred his skin was a scar at about where his liver is. The scar was ugly and looked like it had healed badly.

"I'm lucky he barely pierced my liver, otherwise I would have been in an even worse shape than I was."

Blake remembered something he had said back during the exams.

"My own blood, My twin, using and abusing me for his own end, only to then leave me for dead."

"Was it your brother?" She asked sadly.

Anon nodded slowly. Masamune frowned sadly while Muramasa fumed silently, grinding his teeth. Mercurius kept his ever-present smile, though it was tinged with melancholy.

"Like the gods, humans have a history of blood betraying blood. The many pantheons of the old world plotting and conspiring against one another. The Demiurge rebelling against the Creator's Heavenly Host, Cain and Able..." He looked at Anon pointedly. "Jacob and Esau."

Anon groaned.

"The irony hasn't been lost on me, dickhead."

A crystalline chuckle.

"Irony is the most bitter yet hilarious form of comedy."

Blake stroked the scar on Anon's stomach, her attention lost in the grim detail of the stitch marks and the grizzly slash. Anon lowered his shirt, smiling sadly.

"It was a long time ago, Blake. A time I'd... rather not think about."

Muramasa stuck his tongue into his lower lip as glared at the knife he made.

"So you turned yourself on your owner, uh?" His cold rage made Masamune worry.

"He stole it from me earlier that month," Anon recounted. "Next thing I knew when I confronted him about... something, I was on the floor bleeding out."

Muramasa nodded, his rage almost palpable.

"I don't make deficient weapons, let alone treacherous ones."

The Demonsmith shook his head like a disappointed father figure.

"Want me to take it off your hands? I could make you a better one."

Anon looked at the blade, the memories of his flesh ripping and splitting as it pierced him reflecting in the knife's polished blade. he could still feel the warmth of his blood on his hands as he clutched the grievous wound.

"No."

Muramasa frowned.

"Ah?"

"It holds a certain... significance to me," He explained vaguely.

The Demonsmith nodded.

"Can I at least reforge it? To make it a proper weapon?"

Anon waved forward.

"Go ahead, forge master," He added the nickname with a cheeky smile.

Muramasa blushed at the nickname and grumbled as he took the knife into the Employee Only area. Masamune wiped a happy tear from his eye.

"Muramasa finally got another commission!" He threw his hands in the air happily. "Oh joyous of days!"

Anon and Mercurius snorted.

"Indeed, Masamune-Sama," Mercurius agreed chiperly.

The cheerier of the two smiths put his hands on the counter.

"Anything else we can do for you?" His eyes burned with passion once more. "Do you need a sidearm perhaps!?"

Anon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"A gun would be nice," He admitted.

The blacksmith deflated immediately, his expertise not needed in the least.

"Oh..." He whimpered disappointedly before shrugging nonchalantly. "Oh well. In any case, feel free to peruse our ware. I doubt that you'll come out empty-handed this time."

...

Despite the barrenness of the shop's aesthetic, their range of products was something to admire. From the basics, like ammunitions and throwing weapons, to the exotic. Blake positively balked at the things on display.

"Ruby would flip shit if she ever came here," Anon commented as he walked behind her, perusing ancient Eastern European weapons.

"Yeah, no kidding." His feline companion replied. "I have never seen some of the things here."

"Yeah... There's a lot of stuff I couldn't tell you the origin or the name of."

Blake grabbed a Kusarigama, a chained sickle with a weight at the other end.

"This kind of reminds me of my Gambol Shroud," She said. "This one looks like it has seen a lot if the scars on the blade are anything to go by."

"Well, this is both a weapons workshop as well as a weapons exchange."

The pair turned to face Mercurius, who appeared behind them once again.

"This Kusarigama, for example, has belonged to one Hamon of Clan Iga."

Anon rolled his eyes.

"His name was fucking 'wave'?"

"That's the beautiful thing, I've not a clue if it's a pseudonym or her actual name!" He waved his hands theatrically. "But what I do know, is that she was quite the butcher for a shinobi."

"How bad are we talking?"

"Russian stealth."

Anon inhaled through his teeth.

"Fucking Christ."

"What's Russian stealth?" Blake asked, confused at what the hell they were talking about.

Anon walked off to look at a selection of pistols on a nearby wall.

"There're two approaches to stealth, either no bodies for the guards to notice or no guards to notice the bodies," He explained. "Russian stealth is the latter."

"Oh."

"Pretty grim stuff," Mercurius added. "Anyhow, she was such a savage that Hattori Hanzo himself had to put her down once Japan was unified under Ieyasu Tokugawa. All records of her were destroyed out of disgust and shame. Nothing remains of her."

He looked at the weapon still in Blake's hands.

"Well... Except for her Kusarigama, that is."

The weapon suddenly felt chillingly cold in her hands, as if it tried to freeze her solid with pure murderous intent. Without thinking, she threw the weapon to the floor, an uncontrollable shiver taking over her. No one made a comment, the silence broken by Mercurius' soft chuckle.

"There is more to reality than what you can see, mistress."

The Fae picked the weapon up before setting it back down on its rack.

"For even a memory that is forgotten can animate the inanimate."

Mercurius set his amethyst eyes on Anon, who stood in front of a gun rack. In his hands, a pistol.

The design was like nothing Anon had ever seen. Likely, it was either a heavily modified version of an existing firearm or it was a prototype. Judging by the thickness of the barrel and the size of its bore, it was almost certainly a magnum. Anon palped at it and pulled back the arming mechanism, confirming that the handgun was semi-automatic. Its grip fits well in his hand but it also felt strangely eery. Anon held the gun up to his face, the polished frame reflecting his brown eyes. The manufacturing markings were absent, The only marking being the weapon's calibre inscribed on the magazine itself. He looked back at his reflection in the frame, The reflection stared back at him.

And smiled.

Anon blinked, his reflection now in sync with his actual expression.

Motherfucker.

"I wouldn't recommend that one."

Muramasa returned from inside what Anon believed to be the main workshop. Anon looked back at the gun.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Bad Juju." The Demonsmith explained. "Took lives, many innocent. Maker went mad and rampaged."

"Then?"

"His weapon betrayed him once he realized what he'd done."

Anon looked into the gun's reflection. He thumbed over his mirrored self.

"Did he stop himself?" He muttered to the weapon. "Or did you stop him?"

The reflection looked down before covering his face in shame. Hope nodded.

"I'll take it," He announced as he walked to the counter, Blake joining him.

Muramasa smirked.

"Kindred spirit?" He asked.

"Something like that."

Anon pulled out his wallet but Muramasa stopped him before he could pay for the weapon. Hope cocked an eyebrow.

"Consider it my way of apologizing for my creation failing you in your time of need."

Anon snorted.

"I should get stabbed by the shit I buy from you more often." Blake glared at him for the comment, the memory of his injury at the docks still fresh in her mind. "Speaking of which, the knife?"

"Give me some time," Muramasa explained. "I want to do something special to it."

Anon held his finger up in a nagging motion.

"No. Fucking. Demons." He said slowly. "I'm not a damned warlock."

The Demonsmith smiled while rolling his eyes.

"You're no fun."

"And I, don't want a repeat of last time." Anon shivered at the memory. "The things it tried to do in my nightmares..."

Blake was once more intrigued by what she was hearing. Muramasa burst out laughing.

"Dick." Anon crossed his arms.

Muramasa wiped a tear from his eye, still holding his sides as he steadied into a giggling fit.

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. I didn't mean it that way."

"Then what is it?"

The Demonsmith smiled mysteriously.

"You'll see when the time comes, my boy. What you need to know is; once I'm done, you'll have in your possession a proper weapon."

Anon held his stare against the master smith, his round brown orbs gazing into his slanted black eyes. Anon sighed, relenting.

"Take as much time as you need, Muramasa-san."

The man smiled.

"Don't worry, Hope-san. I've gotten better at making good stuff fast."

"I don't doubt that."

"I'll send it to you once I'm done." Muramasa pulled out some papers. "All I need is your current residence."

Anon sighed.

"Do I need to redo my fucking permits while I'm at it?"

Muramasa spluttered.

"Nah. Even then, we don't sell to crazy people anyhow."

Blake spoke up.

"And you would know that how?"

Mercurius and Muramasa smiled mysteriously, as everyone involved with Anon's past apparently does.

"We just know."

Blake glared in disbelief at everyone in the room. Anon had to hold himself from laughing.

"You'll get your day. One day."

The pair boarded the bullhead once they were finished at the Masa Workshop. The sun hung low, its red light bathing the sky in a cozy orange warmth. Anon held his new holster and within it leather hold, his gun. He thumbed the intricate leather, feeling the details in the stitching. His gaze turned to his companion, still glaring at him.

"I get the feeling you want to say something to me."

She sat crossed-legged and crossing her arms, looking at him with a piercing gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," She answered coldly.

Anon felt a comically large bead of sweat drip behind the side of his head.

... Am I actually turning into an anime character? God, I hope not. I'd probably be an Isekai Harem protag, judging by current trends. And there's always a straight-up or borderline yandere. And I don't want any of them to be one because I'm gonna die.

"Yeah." He leaned back into his seat. "You heard some pretty questionable shit, I'm certain."

Her glare intensified.

"Demonsmith? Warlocks? Weird, seemingly haunted weapons? Something about Faes?" She listed off. "A shop that doesn't exist on any map? A city that no one's ever heard of?"

"...Ok, a LOT of questionable shit."

She sighed tiredly.

"Just who, or what, are you?"

Anon looked out the window, staring at the beauty of the setting sun. After a small moment of silence, he answered.

"I already told you when we first sat down to talk." He closed his eyes. "I'm a college graduate, a burned-out ex-office worker and someone who messed up a lot in life."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know, let me finish. I'm also someone who's seen the world change a lot over my life."

Blake uncrossed her arms and legs and listened attentively. Anon, meanwhile, closed his eyes as memories flashed in his head.

"Things that, all things considered, shattered my faith in humanity. My faith in God, too."

He opened his eyes.

"But... that doesn't matter, that was then."

He looked towards the ground.

"I don't think I could go back anyhow." He closed his eyes once more. "I don't think I want to go back, either."

"Sin City, was it?"

He looked up, at Blake.

"Yeah. A city of intrigue, occult mysteries and monstrous beings pretending to be human."

He looked away.

"As I always say, it's a literally godless shithole."

"Where is it?"

Anon stared into Blake's eyes emptily.

"You don't want to know."

Things went silent until the bullhead landed. Anon spoke up.

"You want to know who I am, right?"

Blake hesitated.

"Yes."

"Well," He stretched as he made his way out of the bullhead. "I'm a man from a faraway land, stranded in a familiar yet strange place."

Blake followed him, listening to his every word.

"I hold knowledge on the past, the present and the possible future."

"Possible?"

Anon looked forward.

"Some things have changed, things that should have happened."

"But they didn't?"

"Yup."

They walked into the courtyard and stood in front of the statue of Huntsmen standing atop the vanquished Grimms.

"Then, if things that should have been changed then... What do we do? You can't predict every outcome."

Anon turned around, framed by the statue.

"As I said earlier today."

He smiled mysteriously.

"We go off-script and we derail the whole fucking plot."

V2E1: END!

NEXT ON PLAYLIST: V2E2 - PLAY?