Gather the DUST, close the chamber, LIGHT the match and wait...
Illya held up the scroll carefully. Her dainty fingers fiddled with the screen, deftly searching for the right application she needed. Shirou had advised against needlessly downloading so many gaming apps. But at the time, Illya had argued that playing the same games the people of Remnant played could also be considered as a form of reconnaissance. It was a tough idea to sell, but in the end, Illya's persistence had pushed through and the scroll screen was drowned in a sea of dubious, miscellaneous applications.
It took a little work, but eventually, Illya's fingers stopped at an application labeled "VNN". She pressed the app's icon of a blue globe overwritten with the three letters of VNN, and the cluttered screen was replaced by a blue map of Remnant. Illya clicked on the topmost thumbnail that appeared, and the morning broadcast of the Vale News Network began streaming.
"Shirou, it's starting!" she called out to her brother, as she plopped down on the sofa. She patted the space beside her impatiently. "Quickly!" she prodded.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Shirou repeated, moving quickly to finish stowing away the plates and cookware they'd used to make breakfast. He closed a drawer filled to capacity and left their small kitchen area to join Illya at the sofa.
Shirou took his seat and immediately felt the meager weight of Illya's childish frame lean against his shoulder. He smiled helplessly at her unabashed act of intimacy, not refusing it. He adjusted his sitting position to better accommodate her.
Illya rewound the video a few seconds to restart the stream to the beginning. She held the scroll up so the two of them could watch in comfort. The opening sequence played and VNN's news anchor, Lisa Lavender, greeted them with her ever-placid charming face.
"Good morning, Vale, and welcome to today's show," Lisa Lavender said in a perfectly measured tone. She went through all the motions typical at the beginning of each broadcast.
But Lisa didn't waste much time and quickly delved into the morning's headlines.
"Preparations are underway for the much-anticipated Vytal Festival," Lisa said, as an image of the symbols Remnant's four kingdoms was shown on the screen. "As this year's host kingdom, the Vale government has established a steering committee to oversee the preparations for the biennial event."
A series of numbers was shown at the bottom of the screen. "The Vale Festival Planning Committee is currently inviting volunteers. Those willing to undertake major roles and special tasks will be paid for their services. For more details, please call the number shown on the screen."
Illya blinked. The contradictory notion of earning money from volunteering confounded her. "You get paid for volunteer work?" she muttered, tilting her head lightly.
Shirou gave it some thought. "No one works for free in the real world. If they want quality workers on their staff, it makes sense for the committee to wave money under people's noses," he contemplated.
Back in high school, Shirou had been heavily involved in the preparations of the school festival every year. He figured the Vytal Festival was a similar event, but on a much grander scale and budget.
For the school festival, the student council had taken charge of everything. They coordinated its members and the representatives from each class to prepare and carry out a school-wide festival open to the entire community.
Shirou, as the selfless janitor as he was, always volunteered to help out, especially the year that his best friend had been elected student council president.
So, while he was by no means an expert on the subject, Shirou had a rudimentary understanding of the inner workings behind festival planning. This was precisely why he raised a brow when Illya showed interest in the subject.
"I doubt volunteers would earn a lot for doing just grunt work. The real paychecks would be saved for those involved at the core of the committee and to get inside the inner circle, you would need to know someone with connections," Shirou shot down any idea of volunteering before it could take root.
"I see." Illya nodded, understandingly. "But couldn't we just brainwash whoever's in charge like we did before?"
Shirou's face soured at the thought. He didn't relish exploiting the minds of innocent bystanders. "It's too risky. There are too many eyes on the Vytal Festival. If we got involved, we'd risk attracting unwanted attention," Shirou said, shaking his head.
Illya frowned. Her eyes darkened at the prospect of someone finding them. While they hadn't made many friends in their short stay in Remnant, they had still made a number of enemies. All of whom were relentlessly searching for the two of them. "That's true..."
"Besides," Shirou continued, ruffling Illya's head tenderly. "It's not like we're not making enough to get by as we are right now."
Unlimited Blade Works had been open for about a week now. And through the combined effect of their store's prime location and Illya's efforts of handing out flyers, they had gathered enough foot traffic into their shop. Only a few of them actually bought anything, but it was just barely enough to keep their store afloat.
"I guess," Illya said, nodding her head. She silently came to the same conclusion as Shirou. Besides, volunteer work was for chumps and brownies.
Illya's white cat ears twitched. "Still, if this Vytal Festival is as big as they're making it out to be, we might be able to profit from the event one way or another," she said smirking as she envisioned the profit margins.
As they continued watching the news broadcast, they learned more about the Vytal Festival. It wasn't just one event, but a series of smaller events in the span of one week. There was a parade, a booth fair and even a fireworks show on the opening night.
But the most hyped-up event of all was the mock tournament between the hunstmen academies. Students from all four of Remnant's huntsmen academies would flock to Vale. All of whom would be potential customers for Unlimited Blade Works.
"Yeah, but the Vytal Festival's still a couple of months away, so we'd still need to do our best until then," Shirou reminded his sister. of the harsh reality of being a small-business owner.
They continued to watch the news play out on the scroll. They didn't have the funds to buy a television for their living room, so they made do with the one scroll they had in their possession.
As foreigners from a different world, Shirou thought it best they keep themselves up to date about current affairs as much as possible, if only to blend in with the populace of Remnant better.
"Coming up, an update on yesterday's dust shop robbery," Lisa Lavender said after finishing the Vytal Festival story. A series of crime scene photos appeared on the screen.
"Yesterday's incident was only the latest of a string of dust robberies that has struck the city of Vale," Lisa said, knitting her brows to deliver the severity of the news. "The Vale Police Department remains adamant on pinning the blame solely on the back of organized crime boss, Mr. Roman Torchwick. But recent online chatter on anonymous web forums points the blame on the radical faunus activist group, the White Fang."
Shirou paid close attention to this bit of news. Dust was not a rare commodity by any stretch, but it still held enough value to for it to be treated like a precious commodity. He didn't understand the entire science behind it, but he understood dust to be Remnant's magic fuel that powered pretty much up everything.
The recent dust shop robberies were only a small trickle in the great pipeline of dust that flowed to Vale from the mines in Atlas and Vacuo. So, the economy was still doing fine in spite of it. But if no one put to a stop to it, and the robberies amped up, Shirou could foresee an economic tragedy coming close by.
The profile of Roman Torchwick on the news wasn't much to go on. The man struck Shirou as the type that liked to keep his dealings on the downlow, always gunning for the tightest profit while staying under the radar. But if the White Fang were involved, then there might be something else behind the scenes than mere thievery.
Still, Shirou wasn't sold on the idea of the White Fang aiding and abetting a human criminal on a dust-robbing-spree. What good would stealing dust do for their cause for faunus equality? If anything, that would relegate their activist group down to a criminal group or even a terrorist group.
Illya's cat ears tilted. Her red eyes stared at the smug face of Roman Torchwick shown on the screen. "Don't we sell dust too, Shirou?" she asked.
"Yeah, we do carry some dust on us," Shirou said, nodding. It was common practice for weapons shops on Remnant to sell dust along with their wares. "But it's not like we have enough stock to attract a robbery. Yesterday's incident also took a bite out of our stockpile too."
Illya nodded glumly. The unfortunate accident with Team RWBY had resulted in the loss of a few jars of dust and a scorched hole on their store's floor. "Still, UBW should be on the city's records as a licensed dust seller. On paper, we're allowed to sell larger amounts of dust, we just don't choose to. We'd still be a target," Illya said nonchalantly, unafraid of the prospect of being robbed.
"You make a good point," Shirou assented. Still, he didn't sound anymore worried as Illya did. "On the off chance that something does happen, we'll just have to deal with it accordingly."
Whatever threat may come their way, the bounded field Illya had set up around the store would detect it. Illya had been behaving quite civil for the past month since they had arrived in Vale. Any unannounced incursion in their weapons shop would only serve as an excuse for the little girl to let loose.
Shirou honestly pitied the fool that dare lay a hand on them.
"You want us to pull off another heist? Tonight?" A man asked sharply. His angry roar dominated the room, stirring up the rest of the men and women who wore the same uniform he did: a white vest over black garb with a black hood, and a white grimm mask covering their eyes.
The people in the room were all members of the White Fang, a violent activist group who fought for the rights of faunus kind. They were meant to be revolutionaries who rebelled against an oppressive human hegemony.
But now, due to some waves in the upper ranks of the chain of command, this particular squad of White Fang members found themselves here, hiding in an abandoned warehouse in Vale, under the command of a human criminal, a petty thief with a penchant for bowler hats and canes.
Roman Torchwick smiled at all the menacing gazes sent his way. He casually waved his hand, as if to brush aside all the tension in the room. He stood at the top of a staircase that led to the control room that overlook the warehouse floor where the White Fang members stood.
"Hey, don't use that tone of voice with me," Torchwick complained to the angry man who stood at the front of all the other White Fang members. "This was the boss lady's idea. Said our recent bust with the huge shipment at the docks made our contribution come up short. Also, something about making up for past failures," he parroted back the instructions he'd just recently received.
"Your failure!" The man at the front retorted. He was the alpha of the group. The hairs of his red wolf's tail bristled with his growing anger. "It was your plan to rob the shipment at the docks. And it was your failure that led to the capture of many of our brethren!" he accused, snarling at Torchwick.
"Our failure," Torchwick corrected, still smiling. He placed his hands on his cane, propping it up against the floor. "Both you and I are just cogs in one big machine now. We're all in this together. When are you going to get that, Lyle?"
Lyle Radolf snarled. His razor-sharp teeth glinting dangerously. "If it weren't for Adam's sake, I'd have your head, filthy human."
"And yet you don't, Lyle." Torchwick shook his head, smug. "Every organization needs a chain of command. We're both at the bottom here. It just so happens that you're one rung lower than I am. Throw me a bone here, let's just get this job done."
Roman Torchwick did his best to smooth things over with Lyle. The White Fang was structured as an organization that recognized power above all else. As long as Lyle, the alpha of this squad, refused to cooperate, then the rest of the White Fang members wouldn't cooperate either, then Roman wouldn't be able to meet his quota and then he would have to talk to the scary lady with fiery glowing eyes again.
"Say, we did go along with your plans, again," Lyle started, taking off his mask to get a better glare at the man. "What would even be our target? The big-name dust shops of Vale are already either dried up or under careful security. I am not risking anymore of my brethren for a lost cause."
The argument was sound. The Vale Police Force was desperate for a win these days and had set up stakeouts at all the most likely targets. They also couldn't just raid the docks again without confirmation that there would even be a dust shipment to hijack.
But Torchwick already knew what to say. "Please, how long do you think I've been in this gig? If the pigs are busy watching the big players, then that just means they're not watching the smaller ones as much. There's still plenty of places we can hit."
Torchwick snapped his fingers beckoningly. "Neo, the list!"
A woman appeared at out of thin air right beside Torchwick. Lyle took a few steps back instinctively. With one look at the woman with the three-colored-hair, he knew she was trouble.
The woman was Neopolitan, better known as Neo. She was supposed to be Torchiwck's righthand lackey, serving as prime muscle and get-away-insurance. It was hard to tell because of her semblance, but she always stuck close to Torchwick, never leaving too far from his person.
Neo offered Torchwick a scroll with a list of shop names on it. He scanned through the information, stopping at the one with the newest date of establishment. "See, here, this one's still green, perfectly ripe for the taking. Unlimited Blade Works. Funny name. Rolls of the tongue, huh. Says here they're a weapons shop, but their papers say they should have plenty of dust!"
Lyle reconsidered. A single weapons shop wasn't too difficult of a target. But still, law enforcement was prominent on the streets recently.
Torchwick could still see one last wall of resistance in the man's eyes. He grinned good-naturedly. "I promise we'll keep it a quiet operation. We'll strike at the dead of night, when everybody's gone to sleep. We'll be in and out, with none the wiser."
They reached a stalemate. The rest of the White Fang squad waited on their leader for a decision. They weren't keen on losing anymore of their members for a cause they didn't even understand. No one ever even bothered to explain why they needed all the dust.
Half a minute passed, and it looked like Lyle would give in. But Torchwick decided he couldn't take the chance of losing face in front of all the grunts. He sighed and beckoned for Lyle to come up the stairs.
"Why don't you step inside my office? I can show you a piece of the bigger picture the boss lady showed me," Torchwick offered with a broad smile.
Lyle raised a cautious brow. They'd been left in the dark for the past few weeks. The higher ups never gave them an acceptable explanation for why they were doing what they were doing for the past few weeks. So, this sudden invitation for information came as a tempting surprise. "Fine," Lyle said begrudgingly.
He briskly climbed up the stairs and joined Torchwick in the control room. But before he closed the door behind him, Lyle gave one last silent look of warning to his squad. The message was clear. Stay and be alert. If they heard their leader roar, then they would rise up.
Neo stood guard at the door to the office. The White Fang members stared at her warily. They didn't trust her one bit, but their Alpha had already spoken. What could they do?
Minutes passed, but there was still no word from inside. The White Fang grunts were just about to climb up the stairs to the control room when the door opened.
Torchwick and Lyle stepped out. Lyle now wore a grimm mask again. He wordlessly nodded at his squad downstairs.
It was an unmistakable sign of acceptance to Torchwick's plan. They would be pulling off a heist tonight at Unlimited Blade Works.
"Unlimited Blade Works," Ozpin murmured the name aloud. It was certainly an eye-catching name.
He peered over his desk-cum-computer. Scanned images of documents were displayed all about. They were the documents concerning the application of a new store downtown called "Unlimited Blade Works".
"Everything seems to be in order on this level," Ozpin muttered to himself as he reread the business permits and declarations of store ownership filed by one Shirou Emiya.
The name had sounded unusual to Ozpin, but he had checked the young man's personal file. He came from Anima in the east. Such an oriental name was common in those parts. His background also checked out as a recent immigrant into Vale. His immigration papers were also on screen.
"This Mister Emiya seems clean. But what concerns you are the other documents at the higher end?" Glynda asked. She sat across from him, drinking her tea calmly.
It was as Glynda guessed. Opening up a new store in town was a simple process enough. One only had to file for a business permit and submit all the necessary documents for proper recording and taxing. But that was only the case for regular stores.
For a weapons store and other dangerous trade shops, there were additional hurdles to be dealt with such as background inspections and interviews with the prospective store owners. These safety checkpoints were set in place to ensure no suspicious individuals could start any sketchy shops.
Among the many tedious documents in the way, the highest one was the paper requiring the seal of approval from one of the Vale City Council members. An active member of the council would need to affirm their approval of the store. The members normally delegated this task to Ozpin, but in actuality, any of the members could sign the document.
"I have no recollection of ever approving this store. I would normally at least receive a notification that one of the other members approved it, but I received none. Furthermore, the speed at which this store was approved is too fast. Just a few days even," Ozpin said, adjusting his glasses.
He accessed the higher up documents from his desk terminal. He opened a folder only allowed for Council member eyes and found the document he was looking for.
"Here it is. The approval papers for this Unlimited Blade Works," Ozpin said, his eyes quickly browsed through the document. He stopped at the seal signed at the bottom of the paper.
"This crest is…" Glynda blinked. "Why would they approve a store without your notice?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Ozpin leaned back on his chair and drank from his mug of coffee. "Of all the Council Members, they're the most delicate to handle. But if this Mister Emiya needed a member other than me that could act with as much autonomy possible, they would be the most likely member to approach."
Ozpin sighed, wondering if this meant anything. It could just be another under-the-desk deal but considering the character of the council member responsible, it was concerning.
Because on the document was the green seal of two battle axes crossed over a shield. The crest of the once Royal Family of Vale.
In a past life, Ozpin had been a member of that family. The present Royal Family was merely shell of its former glory. They simply acted as a quiet figure of the past absolute monarchy. A symbol of prestige and respect, they were well taken care through resting on the laurels of their plentiful assets. They were of no political threat to the current government under the council.
So, why? Why did they approve the Unlimited Blade Works without Ozpin's consent or knowledge?
"Have someone keep an eye on Mister Emiya and his store," Ozpin instructed Glynda. "But make sure to do it quietly. This might be nothing, but we can't be too careful."
Vale may come across as the most stable of the four kingdoms of Remnant, but Ozpin knew better than to be complacent.
Weiss Schnee stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She checked her hair and makeup, making sure she was presentable by her stringent standards. She wasn't performing on stage today, but she still liked the feeling of confidence a proper appearance gave her. For what she was about to do, she could use all the confidence she could muster.
She closed her eye and lowered her head. It was fine, she told herself. She was the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. Ever since her older sister Winter had defaulted any stake in the company, Weiss had shouldered several responsibilities that originally befell Winter. She attended public functions, made public appearances at charity dinners, and sung at recitals to promote the SDC. So, for all her contributions into the company, it was only fair that she reaped a few benefits.
Anyway, she wouldn't be asking for much at all. As heiress, Weiss had her own personal supply of dust for her own use. The company had more than enough surplus of dust to accommodate a little selfishness on her part. She would just be making an advance withdrawal of the dust allotted to her to compensate Shirou and Illya's store.
In theory, it would've been simple.
But recently, tensions were high between Weiss and her father, Jacques Schnee, the CEO of the SDC. It started a few days ago when Weiss had made the impromptu decision to stay at Beacon over the semester break. She had previously promised her father she'd return home for the break but had changed her mind at the last second.
Weiss was reluctant to admit it, but part of the reason she chose to remain in Beacon was her interest in Unlimited Blade Works. She was genuinely curious about that new store she and Ruby had stumbled upon. From what it looked, the store didn't seem to be having a promising start. Weiss worried if Illya and her brother would be able to survive in the harsh Vale business scene.
She would be much disappointed to find UBW closed down after a semestral break spent in Atlas. So, Weiss decided to hang back for a few more days in Beacon and introduce more of her fellow Beacon Academy students to the store. She thought it made sense to start with her own teammates Blake and Yang. But then, of course, tragedy struck.
Weiss felt incredibly guilty for the accidental dust explosion they had caused in UBW. While no one had been hurt and there had been little property damage, it was still a black stain on the store's reputation. Customers wouldn't exactly line up for a store where they could potentially get hurt.
So, not only did Weiss's intention to help the store fail, but she also damaged it. Just remembering the dark and disheartened look Illya had drove a knife through Weiss' heart. She knew she had to make it up to Illya and Shirou somehow. So, she took the lead and promised for a reimbursement of dust of far better quality than the batch they had ruined.
Weiss gulped, swallowing her pride. She dialed a number on her scroll and within a second, the person on the other end of the line replied. "Hello? What can I do for you, Miss Schnee?"
It was one of her father's many secretaries. Jacques Schnee had several personal assistants under him as the CEO of the company. The one who answered the call should be the one responsible for all matters related to the immediate Schnee family, Fross Bright. Anything that concerned the personal actions and directives of the Schnee family would be handled by Fross. This of course included Weiss' assets in the company.
"Yes, Fross. I would like for one order of SSR-quality dust to be delivered to my location within the next few days. Could you arrange for that, please?" Weiss asked expectantly.
Weiss knew Fross to be one of the more professional women in the company, and one of the rare few with a good moral character. However, as a drawback, she was also a strict adherent to the rules.
There was a short pause before Fross grunted in discomfort. "Ordinarily, Miss Schnee, I could take care of your request with just my authority alone, but recently, Mr. Schnee has given the order that all actions concerning your assets be put through him first."
Weiss bit her lip. Her father just had to get in the way. Was this his way of retaliating for her ignoring his calls? "Is that so…? Can you pass on my request to my father then please? The sooner the better."
"I can patch you through to him right now actually. He just came out of a meeting and should be free."
"Wait, Fross, you don't have to–"
But before Weiss could finish, Fross pressed a button and there was the unmistakable sound of her call being transferred. A few seconds of ringing was all it took before a man's scratchy voice came through. "Well, well, if it isn't my prodigal daughter. Back to leach off more of the family fortune for free, I assume. What is it this time?"
Weiss coughed, knitting her brows together. "A good day to you too, father."
"It would be good if a certain wayward daughter of mine came back home like she promised she would." Jacques Schnee wasted no time laying on his grievances. "I tolerated your excursion out of Mantle as the product of your rebellious phase. But do you actually plan on following your sister's footsteps of failure?"
Weiss gritted her teeth. Her older sister, Winter, was a special operative of the Atlas military, serving as a huntsman for the people of Atlas. There was no life more noble than that. Weiss wanted to retort back, but she knew better than to waste her breath. Her father had his own ideas.
"I just changed my mind. What's wrong with spending a few more days here in Beacon?" Weiss reasoned. The semester break wasn't all that long anyway. It was just a few weeks. It'd be over in a flash.
"A few days? Then who's going to sing for all the charity events I had planned out? All those good PR opportunities down the drain thanks to your petulant whims," Jacques unabashedly revealed the real reason he was so ticked off.
Weiss covered the scroll speaker with one hand and snorted. She figured it was as such. Her father didn't really care if she were at home or not unless it served him some purpose. He wouldn't miss her or anything like that. He was just upset he couldn't use her in his image-fixing publicity stunts.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror, frowning. She hated her disappointment. She should have known better than to expect anything else from her father. But she couldn't deny the small part of her that yearned for parental love.
Weiss closed her eyes. She opened her mouth and imagined all the complaints she had in her heart. She would love nothing more than to talk back to her father, but in the last second, she remembered the tears that ran down Illya's face. She remembered the reason why she called. She was the one asking for a favor here.
"I'm… sorry I went back on my words, okay? I promise I'll make up for all of the company's losses in the future. So, please…" Weiss swallowed her pride and closed her eyes. "Could you just grant my request?"
There was a pause. Weiss felt her stomach turn as she imagined the face of that man on the other side of Remnant. He must be weighing the pros and cons of approving her request right now with that stupid cold face of his.
"Fine, I'll grant you back your rights as heiress. But this is not for free. You will reimburse the company once the Vytal Festival is over," Jacques Schnee spoke, not as a father, but as a businessman making a deal.
Weiss smiled wryly. If a stranger were listening, they wouldn't be able to tell that they were father and daughter. "Thank you, father. I promise."
"Hmph, don't forget this time." Jacques grumbled. "I'll be busy with the next few days. Call Fross for all your needs and don't bother me."
Weiss nodded, her grin broadening. "Of course. Goodbye, father."
The call ended and Weiss put her scroll down. She felt her legs were a little sore. It was probably just strain from morning practice with Blake. Whatever it was, Weiss stepped back, plopping her butt on the toilet seat. She didn't dare look at her reflection in the mirror anymore. She didn't want to see the face of a little girl calling home to clean up a mess she made at school. Pathetic.
Weiss smiled derisively. She made the right decision when she chose to make the call in the bathroom. She didn't need her teammates seeing her being so pathetic. She had an image to keep. Weiss Schnee, the proud and noble heiress of the Schnee Dust Company.
Unbidden, a tear escaped her left eye, tracing the path of the scar etched on her face. The air around her eyes felt steamy. She felt the cold grip of a vice around her heart. But she refused to make a sound, choking down the growing sob in her chest.
She shook her head in an effort to seize back control, but the tears only kept flowing, silently one after the other, dripping down her chin onto her pretty white dress.
Just unsightly, she mocked in her head. She did her best not to make a scene, crying quietly. Her tears would soon dry. Then things would go back to normal. She'd be the haughty Ice Queen again.
On the other side of the bathroom door, Ruby, Blake and Yang stood. Their ears pressed against the slight gap of the doorframe, catching the gist of what their teammate was doing inside. The expressions on their faces were dark with concern.
Author's Note:
After two and a half years, another chapter comes out. Sorry about the indefinite hiatus. If you guys still remember this story and still have some interest in seeing where it'll go, well, I'm going to continue it. RWBY has changed a lot since the last chapter of this story. I'm not going to care about canon too much. Anything past Volume 4 doesn't really matter to me.
Again, the setting here is the time between Volume 1 and Volume 2, so everybody still gives a damn about Maidens and Relics, but just on the downlow. This chapter was mainly setting the stage. Shirou and Illya have dust. Torchwick and White Fang want dust. Ozpin starts looking at UBW. Weiss orders dust.
Writing this chapter was really hard. Everything feels so rusty and rough. Part of it is that some of this chapter was already written way back in the past and I had to incorporate it with newer parts of the chapter. Hopefully, I'll get back in the groove in the next few chapters.
Hope y'all are doing okay during these trying times.
If you're feeling generous and can afford the trouble, would you buy me a coffee please? (ko-fi dot com slash dhaturas).
Thank you for reading!