To hide our WEAKNESS, we don MASKS of STRENGTH, struggling until the day we no longer need to wear it...
Weiss quietly stepped out of the bathroom. Her footsteps light and quiet. She scanned the room tentatively. She knew her eyes were still faintly red, so it was a relief that all three of her roommates were busy doing their own thing to lock eyes with her.
But as Weiss walked towards her bed, she noticed the subtle gazes following her every move. She scrutinized her teammates carefully. Ruby sat precariously on her bed, engrossed in the front cover of a weapons magazine, that was upside down.
Weiss blinked. She turned her head, and spotted Blake browsing absentmindedly on her scroll, perfectly innocent. But Weiss couldn't help but notice the small periodic twitching of the black bow on her head.
Weiss frowned. She looked at Yang, sitting at her desk. She appeared to be reading some book, tracing her finger over the text as she read along. This was a particular quirk of Yang's that Weiss had long noticed whenever they studied before a test. But she distinctly recalled a moment in the past where Yang boasted her ability to procrastinate.
As far as Weiss knew, Yang would never pick up a textbook until the last minute possible right before an exam. Yang was the kind of person who thrived with the thrill of cramming. So, it was strange when Weiss found her reading a textbook today, in the middle of a semestral break.
They were all guilty then.
Weiss sighed heavily. She rubbed her forehead, ruminating about damage control. She made sure to keep her voice down in the bathroom. But she had no idea about how much her friends had overheard.
Finally, after a solid minute of awkwardness, Weiss cleared her throat audibly. She addressed the room. "S-so, you heard all that…?" she tested the waters.
Whatever dam held their guilty conscience at bay slowly cracked. Ruby was the first to speak up. "Um, sorry about that. You were in there for a long time. So, we got worried?" she said, waving her hands as if to diffuse the tension in the room.
Weiss thought back. She had indeed stayed too long in the bathroom. Much of that time was spent psyching herself up before she actually made the call to her father.
"So, how much did you hear…?" Weiss coughed roughly into her hand, gazing at the three of them.
"Just the part where you placed the order for the dust," Blake piped up, too eagerly for her own good.
Weiss raised an unconvinced brow. She looked to the blonde in the group. Yang threw away her textbook and scratched the back of her head. "And, that part about you making up for the company's losses…?" Yang said nervously. She bowed her head a bit. "Sorry about eavesdropping. We were just concerned. You know, as friends."
Right. They were her friends. They simply acted out of concern for her. But it was precisely because they were her friends that Weiss felt uncomfortable with revealing any signs of weakness.
"Well, there's no hiding it now, huh. Just don't make a habit of eavesdropping on my calls," Weiss said, taking a seat on her bed, closing her eyes. "It's as you all heard. I've already arranged for the dust to replace the one we used up in Illya and Shirou's store. Isn't that a relief?" she said, sighing deeply.
Yang and Blake shared a worried look. The matter over the dust was never the issue. "But–"
"Save it," Weiss silenced them with an indifferent look. "From the beginning, the relationship between me and my father has always been of the business variety. No point in dwelling over a lost cause," she said, smiling lightly.
The atmosphere in the room grew somber, as none of the girls knew what to say. Weiss, however, smiled it off. She didn't enjoy being the downer in the group. "So, have you guys thought over my proposal from before?"
That changed the topic abruptly. It was a subject of discussion they had over breakfast this morning. When the team had been searching for a means to earn money and pay back the losses for the damage to UBW, Weiss had produced a flier for the upcoming Vytal Festival.
"Oh, that?" Ruby smiled stiffly. "Yeah, it sounds like a lot of fun, right, guys?" she said, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Blake and Yang's.
"Right," Blake coughed abruptly. "It seems pretty straightforward. You said your connections can help, right? I'm in."
"Yeah, me too." Yang nodded her head exaggeratedly. "Experiencing the festival from the other side of things sounds fun in its own way."
Seeing her friends being so quick to air their consent, Weiss grinned mischievously. "There are no take-backs in this matter, understand? If we're doing this, it's not going to be all fun and games, okay?" she double-checked one last time.
The members of Team RWBY unanimously nodded their heads. Their free time before the second semester had to be spent someway anyway. Agreeing to Weiss' proposal just meant they would spend less time training for the Vytal Festival Tournament.
"It's official then. Team RWBY will be joining the Vytal Festival Steering Committee!" Weiss declared excitedly.
The rest of the girls raised their voices weakly in a shoddy attempt of enthusiasm. None of them shared their friend's overt interest for event organization. But joining the Steering Committee was the easiest means of paying their dues for UBW.
Weiss had also ensured that they wouldn't be relegated to low-pay grunt work, but juicy high-pay important roles in the festival. It was a bona fide example of corruption at work. Not that the three of them had any right to complain as the benefiting party.
Lepus was the name of a rabbit constellation.
When Lepus' parents were searching for a name to give their daughter, they chanced upon this trivial piece of information. The night sky of Remnant was beholden to many heavenly bodies. The Lepus constellation was only one of many in the vast ocean of stars. But it stood out to her parents for the simple reason that this particular abstract connection of lines vaguely resembled a rabbit.
As a rabbit faunus, Lepus was born with long rabbit ears sticking out of her head. The mere existence of these ears had been a point of conflict for the majority of her developing years. Her parents, who shared the same physical trait, had died when she was seven for the mere existence of their superfluous rabbit ears.
She didn't know why they were born with two pairs of ears. The ears on each side of Lepus' face worked just fine. The extra rabbit ears atop her head merely heightened her sense of hearing pointlessly. She could have lived just perfectly fine without them.
But because of her rabbit ears, Lepus was an orphan and now, a member of the White Fang.
"Where is he?" Lepus asked her fellow White Fang members sternly. With their Grimm masks and black hoods, it was difficult to distinguish between members, but Lepus knew the name and faces of every single member in her squad.
The two in front of her stood attention at her words. Their names were Finn and Fang. It was Finn who replied her question briskly. "Vice-captain, Captain Radolf is in his room alone right now," he reported firmly.
Lepus nodded, dismissing them as she quickly exited the hall. As Vice-captain of the 23rd squad of the White Fang, Lepus commanded respect whenever she walked within her squad. Her gray rabbit ears sticking out of her black hood gave off the vibes of a cute pet, but they allowed her to hear whatever gossip was whispered in her presence. Anyone stupid enough to call her cute was met with a swift kick to the face.
Behind her Grimm mask, Lepus did possess features that could be described as beautiful. Her long gray hair was kept in a low ponytail, while her face was impish and cute. But if one wanted a stable position in the power-dominant hierarchy of the White Fang, one had to be tough and ruthless.
As time had passed, there remained no one foolish enough to call her cute in the 23rd Squad, except for one anomaly in the squad. It was the only other person with a rank above her own.
"Captain Radolf, get your ass out here!" Lepus banged her fist harshly on the door to her squad captain.
Lyle Radolf was the name of the Captain of the 23rd Squad of the White Fang. He was a wolf faunus with vivid red hair in a wild mane. He was renowned in the White Fang as a brute with a high-success rate in missions. But for Lepus, he was just the dumb flirty captain who threw compliments at her in front of their subordinates.
Minutes passed, but there was no answer. Lepus frowned. She didn't have a key for Radolf's room, so she pulled out a pistol out of her pocket. A few quick shots was all it took to break the door out of its frame.
"I'm coming in, Captain Dumbass," Lepus announced as she stepped into the room.
To her surprise, the lights were switched off. It was odd. Lyle never kept the lights off unless he was asleep, it was a part of his nonsensical work-efficiency policy. It was even stranger when she saw Lyle was just staring at the wall blankly as he sat at his desk in the dark.
"Captain Dumbass, what the hell are you doing? I step out to pick up supplies and shit hits the fan. Did you really agree to that fool Torchwick's plans? I thought we agreed not to risk losing any more of our men for their stupid plans," Lepus complained in fury.
But Lyle just sat at his desk, not even turning to face her. So, Lepus continued, "They even want us to do all the heavy-lifting! Torchwick's grunts get to secure the getaway on the plane, while our squad has to do all the breaking and entering. The nerve!"
Lepus screamed her head off. But her captain sat still in his desk, silent. She frowned. He was never this quiet with her, especially when they were alone. Where was the usual flirts? The barrage of sleazy remarks that bordered sexual harassment?
"Captain? Are you really fine with this? Since when has the White Fang been reduced to a human's plaything? If you'd let me, I could put a bullet through that Torchwick's–"
But before Lepus could finish her suggestion, her eyes narrowed. She quickly rolled to the left, dodging the razor-sharp claws aimed at her jugular.
Lepus stared in shock at Lyle's fighting stance. Her mouth hung agape, dumbfounded. If she had been even a fraction slower than her aura would have been penetrated.
"W-what are you doing, Captain Dumbass? Are you out of your mind?" Lepus asked. Her voice hid a deadly warning.
It wasn't the first time their interaction had resulted in an exchange of blows. But this was the first time Lepus felt actual bloodlust from one of Lyle's attacks. This was no friendly jab, but a strike with an intent to kill.
"We will obey Torchwick's plan. No objections are allowed," Lyle muttered gravely. "Even from you, Lepus. Have you forgotten your place as my subordinate?"
Lepus gritted her teeth. In all the years she's known him, Lyle had never given her such a menacing glare. "Are you being serious, Lyle…?" Her lips twisted into a mean sneer. "I head Torchwick gave you some insider information on the upper brass' grand plan. Can you swear to me that what we're doing will further the goals of the White Fang?"
There was a long, pregnant pause before Lyle grunted. "Yes... everything is for the White Fang's ambition…"
Lepus clicked her tongue. She pointed her pistol at Lyle's head. "I'll take your word for now, Captain. But if this plan blows up in your face, never mind the police or the huntsmen, I'll be the first to put a bullet through your head," Lepus warned, lowering her gun.
She left the room in a huff, but her Captain didn't even cast her one glance as he sat back at his desk absentmindedly.
"Everything… is for the White Fang's ambition…" he whispered to himself like a prayer, his shoulders trembling.
A ping sound came out of the scroll in Illya's hands. She scrunched her brows as she had to exit her gaming app to read the new notification the scroll received.
"Shirou! You got a message from a cute girl!" Illya called out from the back of the store as she walked to her brother at the register. She gave the scroll to Shirou for him to read. "Your long-held wish of receiving a message from a cute girl has come true, Onii-chan," she teased.
Shirou smiled stiffly, accepting the scroll. He read the name of the sender who just texted them. "Funny. I don't recall ever having such a wish. Also, this is just a message from Weiss about the dust she's compensating us with."
"Oh? That's right. Your real wish was to get together with me, right?" Illya nodded understandingly.
Shirou snorted, ruffling his sister's hair affectionately. "Yes, yes. My real wish is to spend my days together with Illya in peace."
"Is that your subtle way of proposing to me, Shirou?" Illya asked, tilting her head to the side.
"It's not," Shirou denied flatly, returning the scroll to Illya. "Enough with the jokes. The customers might get the wrong idea."
"What customers? I only see a bunch of curious bystanders killing time in our store for the free air-conditioning," Illya said, glancing pointedly at the two or three people browsing the store's merchandise at the far corner of the room.
Illya was brazen with displaying her feelings for Shirou. But she knew to dial them back down when in front of outsiders. If the so-called customers were within earshot she would've been much more subdue. Besides, if she really did reveal anything unseemly, she could simply brainwash them into forgetting it.
"Well, anyone who steps inside the store is a potential customer. So please keep your jokes to a minimum, lllya," he asked of her, sighing.
Business at Unlimited Blade Works was as slow as usual. They had made only one sale today so far, and that was just for a police officer who bought a replacement for his broken weapon. The problem was that Unlimited Blade Works wasn't reaching its target demographic yet, the hunstmen and huntsmen-in-training who lived and died by their weapons.
So far, they had made contact with a few students from Beacon. But the store hadn't attracted any bigshot professional huntsmen as clients. The weapons business worked largely on the close relation between weaponsmith and weapon-user. Most huntsmen already had go-to stores for their weapon needs. If UBW was going to enter the market, they needed a bigger presence in the huntsmen community.
Well, if push came to shove, Shirou could always close the store in favor of opening café or something. But he didn't want to go down that route unless he had no other choice.
"I think you should stop handing out fliers, Illya. I think they've drawn as much attention as they can," Shirou suggested.
Illya who was busy playing an app on the scroll, nodded her head absentmindedly. "I think so too. Even for me, there's a limit to how many chumps my beauty can charm, without any magecraft that is."
Shirou's expression faltered. He smiled wryly, taking a second to get back to his point. "Plus, with you staying at the store full-time instead of handing out fliers outside, we can avoid accidents like the one with Team RWBY," Shirou added as he looked back on the previous day's events.
If Shirou had not left the store unattended, there would have been no opportunity for Team RWBY to be in charge of the store and cause such an accident. Illya, for all her whims, was responsible enough to watch the store in most situations.
"Should we just hire more staff maybe?" Illya suggested. She didn't sound particularly enthusiastic of managing a store in Shirou's absence.
"We don't have the budget to hire any extra employees," Shirou said, shaking his head.
Illya smiled darkly as she whispered, "We could just coerce them to work for free with my magecraft."
"That's unethical, Illya," Shirou said, shaking his head. "Also, stop trying to solve everything through brainwashing," Shirou chided, frowning seriously.
"I know, I know. It was just a suggestion," Illya excused herself as she continued playing on the scroll.
They stopped their banter after that. Illya returned to her games in the back of the store while Shirou stayed focus at the register. He watched over the customers browsing through the shelves from afar. He contemplated about the possibility of hiring staff just as a thought experiment.
If they ever did hire anybody, it would have to be someone they could trust. Given the nature of their status as fugitives, they couldn't afford to hire just any random mook on the street that walked through their door.
Just then, the bell attached to the store's door chimed off, signaling the entrance of another potential customer. "Welcome!" Shirou greeted the new visitor with the same smile he offered to anyone.
In his book, anyone who would visit their store, even out of curiosity, couldn't be all bad. They were potential customers.
Eleven potential customers waited outside Unlimited Blade Works.
The dead of night had come. Including the Captain Lyle Radolf and Vice-Captain Lepus, the 23rd Squad of the White Fang was down to only ten members. In accordance with the plan designed by Roman Torchwick, all ten members became the vanguard of tonight's operation. The leading roles of the mission should be a place of honor, but Lepus only felt her stomach turn at the burden.
She glanced at their surroundings warily. The alley behind Unlimited Blade Works was especially dark this time of night. Their party of ten plus Torchwick blended in the darkness quite well. Lepus had insisted that their group at least cover their ostensibly white clothes with black coats. This was after all a stealth operation.
Torchwick however, stood out in his usual white suit. He said that a black coat would've cramped his style. At least his bright orange hair was covered by black bowler hat.
"Showtime, men. Do your thing," Torchwick said with a snap of his fingers.
Lepus clicked her tongue and crouched by the door.
Unlike the previous heists where Torchwick and his goons had simply waltzed in through the front door, this time they would be sneaking in through the back. The back entrance to Unlimited Blade Works was inconspicuous and unguarded. A simple locked door nestled at both sides by trash bins. It was the perfect entry point.
Lepus pulled out her pistol. She flicked it and the thing shifted into a knife. She flipped a switch and the edge of the blade shone with a faint orange glow. The dust circulating at the edge radiated a heat capable of melting through steel. She quickly went to work, cutting through the door's lock like butter.
A minute flew by and the door was open loose. Lepus called for her team to enter. She sneered at Torchwick whose ego dictated that he be the first to walk through the breach.
"Thanks, Bunny. Don't mind if I do–"
But the moment Torchwick's boot stepped across the building's threshold, something went amiss. The ambient temperature around them plummeted and a faint alcoholic smell was mixed in the air.
"What–"
Before Lepus could even finish yelping, she and the rest of their squad were wrapped in thick silvery wire restraints. Their bodies were forcibly constricted so that they stood up straight. Their mouths were also harshly sealed with thick bands of woven fibers.
Torchwick was the first to disappear. Unable to even scream for help, his restrained body was quickly yanked up to the sky. He felt his head swell with pain as his body sailed up against the cold resistance of air. His eyes darted wildly around his surroundings. He saw the White Fang grunts he brought with him were also strewn up along with him. All of them panicking like dumb fishes caught on a fishing rod's hook.
The upward force pulling them up finally stopped when they reached the rooftop of Unlimited Blade Works. But still their bodies never touched a flat surface. They remained suspended in the air, strung up to the railings like feeble flies caught in a spider's web.
They struggled to break free, writhing futilely in their bindings. But it seemed like the more they struggled, the tighter the wires wrapped around them became.
"Oh, do feel free to struggle as you want. It'll speed things up quite considerably," a quaint voice called out below them.
Lepus glared at the figure entering the roof deck from the door below them. Her eyes widened when she saw a little girl in a simple purple dress. Her long snow-white hair swayed with the weak night breeze. The cat ears atop her head revealed her faunus heritage, but Lepus couldn't feel an inkling of camaraderie from the girl, only cold sadistic delight.
"Those wires are designed to redirect the force you exert to escape as additional tension to further restrain you," the little girl gleefully explained to them.
"So, if you keep moving about like that, well…" she titled her head, placing a finger on her chin as if in thought. "It's kind of like pressing your own body against a blade? Even with aura your necks can only handle so much pressure, right?"
Lepus immediately stopped squirming. Her squad members also ceased struggling. They could only helplessly look down at their childish captor.
Said little girl was smiling immaculately. Her face giddy like a person who just won the lottery. "I thought something like this might happen, but I can't believe how lucky we got!"
She snapped her fingers and Torchwick's body was lowered a bit, singling him out from the rest. "You're that sketchy criminal they talked about on the news, right?"
Torchwick glared at the girl, bobbing his head in anger. He had to be careful about the wires pressed against his neck.
But the little girl was unshaken by the man's tantrum. She looked up at the rest of them, starry eyed. "And the rest of you must be the White Fang I've heard so much about," she spoke as if she were unfamiliar with them.
A sinking feeling tugged at Lepus' heart. There was something different about this faunus girl.
"I bet if we turn you over to the authorities, we could receive a hefty reward." The little girl grinned. Her blood red eyes contrasted vividly with her pale face. She glanced tentatively at the captured members of the White Fang, as if calculating their worth.
"Though if the police in this city don't offer rewards for wanted felons, I suppose we could always rob you guys instead. You must have amassed some wealth after the spree of dust robberies you pulled off," she considered indifferently.
Lepus felt a cold sweat drip down her back as she watched the joy spread across the little girl's face.
"I hear when you go hunting, you have to drain the blood out of your captured prey before you butcher it for resources. I wonder how much blood I can squeeze out of you louts before you run dry," she said, chuckling to herself.
The girl approached Torchwick. She observed the mixture of fear and indignity churn on the man's face. The thief had lost his signature bowler hat as he came up the side of the building. So, he was reduced to a sweaty man with ragged orange hair whipped to the side.
"You look unhappy about something, Mr. Criminal," she noted with a baffled expression. "This is merely the fate of those who dare invade the store Shirou and I built. If you're unsatisfied, you shouldn't have done something as stupid as provoke me."
The girl produced a sword out of the silver wires and jammed it through Torchwick's stomach. A few seconds was all it took, before an orange layer of light cracked over his body.
"Pop goes the aura!" she said in a sing-song voice. She didn't even flinch as his blood sprayed over her clothes.
Roman's face contorted in pain. His green eyes shook erratically. The sweat dripping down his face glistened. His blood spilled out to the floor with gusto due to the tension of the wires constricting him.
"This isn't very fun," the girl remarked dryly. She shook her head in disappointment. "If you can't even squeal for me, then it's pointless."
"Here," she said, raising her pinky finger in the air. The restraints around Torchwick's mouth and neck came loose, allowing him to speak. "Squeal for me," she ordered, before twisting the sword in his stomach.
Torchwick's high-pitched scream shook up the night sky. He felt his insides be reduced to a child's plaything. Her sword stirred his guts like he was a pot of stew. Blood regurgitated up his throat as he bellowed in pain.
"Don't worry! I'll fix you right up after I have my fun. I can't have the authorities asking any pesky questions. That would be a bother," the girl said, shaking her head casually.
Seeing this, even Lepus and the rest of the White Fang, who held no love for the Torchwick, was taken aback at the sheer brutality a little girl could demonstrate. They all had one question on their minds.
Who the hell is this little monster?
Illya pulled the sword out of Torchwick's body, flicking the man's blood to the floor and earning Torchwick another howl of pain. She regarded the blood staining her sword. "Like I thought, this kind of thing suits me best. Playing the prim and proper little sister can be so taxing," she whispered to herself.
Illya smiled brightly, shaking her head. "People can't change their natures so easily, huh…" she said, pushing the sword through Torchwick to pierce the other side of his body.
Roman Torchwick screamed in agony again. He was in too much pain to process any of the little devil's musings. His mouth released a blood-curdling scream as he stared up at angrily at the sky above.
"That was a nice scream, Mr. Criminal," Illya complimented sweetly. "You don't have to mind the neighbors. The bounded field around the building means no one can hear or see you right now. So, please don't hold back and cry to your heart's content," she encouraged gently.
Torchwick froze up at her words. He realized the oddity all of a sudden. Despite all the ruckus their failed mission had caused, there was not one trace of outside interference. Were they really isolated? Then, even Torchwick's henchmen waiting at the plane were unaware of their predicament?
Is Neo not coming?
"Y-you little bitch–" Torchwick's curse was cut short by another stab of pain through his abdomen.
"Know your place, trash," Illya chided sternly. "I said you could squeal, not speak!" She poked her sword again and again through the slits of Torchwick's ribs like it was a game. She was careful not to puncture his heart, but everything else was fair game.
Torchwick squealed in agony. His head throbbed with the pain and his vision dimmed, tears in his eyes. But the restraints binding him tightened, jerking him back awake into full awareness of the pain.
At this point, he had lost all rationality. He just wanted the pain to stop in any way possible. He craned his neck up to the White Fang members suspended above him. They all stared back at him in muted horror. But Torchwick brushed them aside and his slimy green eyes zeroed in on one particular man.
Unlike the other White Fang members, there was no sign of panic on his face. His head was bent down and his body was slack, like he was just a puppet held up by the devil's silver wires.
Torchwick flashed a wicked smile. "LYLE!" he screamed with all his might and yelled a phrase he thought only he understood.
「Εγκαταλείψτε τον Ἄψυρτος 」
None of the White Fang members seemed to know what the phrase meant.
But on the contrary, Illya understood. Her carefree expression instantly vanished. "That phrase– where did you learn that?" she asked Torchwick with something more akin to hatred instead of the usual sadistic glee.
Illya glared dangerously at Torchwick but the man just grinned back smugly. She was just about to tighten the wires around his neck when she felt something amiss.
A different kind of pressure filled the rooftop. A black smog of miasma oozed out of one of the captive White Fang members. Illya widened her eyes as one of the White Fang members was devoured in a cloud of dark negative energy.
The white Grimm mask the man wore was one likened to the masks worn by Beowolves. But there was something different about it. The red markings on the mask blazed to life. Like a fire, it spread across the man's body consuming his body and producing more of that black miasma as it burned him.
"What is that thing? A Grimm?" Illya asked in confusion. She frowned. She had seen Grimm before, but this was something similar, yet different.
Torchwick grinned like a maniac. "Lyle, break us free and eat this bitch!" he commanded in a rage.
The wires around Lyle shook, tightening to restrain him. Blood burst forth out of his body was squeezed by the wires, but Lyle didn't stop fighting back. The horrible sound of flesh and blood being grinded filled the rooftop, but even then, Lyle continued struggling.
Eventually, the man's mouth broke free from the braided wires gagging him. Lyle roared like a starved beast. His ferocious howl struck fear even in the hearts of his own comrades.
Illya narrowed her eyes at his strange anomaly before her. "Ridiculous. His body's strengthening to match the strength of my wires?" She waved her hand and tightened the wires by several degrees.
But Lyle's feral roar only grew stronger. Illya had no way of knowing, but the White Fang members present understood. This was Lyle's semblance at play. Lyle's semblance was a power type, one that converted pain and anguish into power. It allowed him to match the tension in the wires, but his semblance did not dampen the pain eating away at his body.
If this continued, either Lyle or the wires would break. The White Fang members wanted to yell at the man to stop but couldn't utter a word with the bindings on their mouths.
"This feeling is– it's really her doing." Illya's eyes widened. She frowned tightly. Red zigzag line formed on her face. But just as she opened her mouth, a high-pitch sound rang across the rooftop.
Lyle broke free from the silver wires restraining him. His body was a bloody mess but transformed grotesquely. He was nothing more than an inky black monster with a white skull mask on his face and bone white armor protruding from his limbs and abdomen. His blood red eyes blazed with hatred as he forcibly tore apart the wires around Torchwick and the White Fang.
Everyone caught in Illya's trap fell. They yelped in surprise as they hit the floor.
The black monster stomped on the roof deck. The cement cracked under his feet. Gone was the guise of man or faunus, he was nothing more than a wolf monster on two legs, a werewolf variety of Grimm, much like a Beowolf.
Illya waved her hand, and more silver wires sprang up from the ground to restrain the werewolf, but he was too quick. She shaped her wires into swords and birds, but they were swept aside with ease by the monster. It could no longer feel pain.
The werewolf leaped to where Illya stood. His jaws wide open, ready to devour her whole body.
The red markings on Illya's face flashed brightly. She glared at the monster fierce and unafraid.
Watching from the side, Torchwick cheered. He mistook the tense look on her face to be fear. Nursing his mangled chest, he waited eagerly for Illya to be mauled into a lifeless lump of meat.
But just as the werewolf's head neared Illya, a swift swinging sound came out of nowhere. A quick flash of steel whipped through the creature's neck, and its head had been cleanly chopped off from the rest of its body. The monster's head fell to the floor, rolling on the cracked cement harmlessly.
Dumbfounded, all eyes were on the new figure standing between Illya and the decapitated werewolf.
It was a young man in midnight black body armor. Scarlet red garments covered his limbs. His tan skin contrasted with his white hair. In his hands, he held a pair of black and white long curved swords. Their blades emitted faint sparks of blue energy.
Illya smiled up at the young man. The red markings on her face receded. Only this person would come to her rescue without fail.
Emiya Shirou addressed the people on the rooftop. His silver eyes blazingly livid. His voice deep and angry, he asked, "Who the hell do you think you're touching?"
Author's Note:
Hello. It seems the plot finally started. Lol. This is still Rated T. Today's teenagers can handle a little gore and swearing, I believe in y'all. Also, since the Rated M stories are hidden from casual readers, we're sticking with the T Rating. Anyway, I had Illya have her fun with Torchwick. I feel bad for the guy, but he walked into his own grave. She said she'd fix him right up afterwards anyway~
The foreshadowing for Lyle was set up last chapter, but I just wrote that he came out of the meeting with Torchwick wearing his mask when he went in without wearing it. I also CAPSLOCKED the word "mask" in that pretentious first-liner I write at the start of every chapter.
Speaking of that mask, do any of you know Greek? Like actual Greek? If you do, could you leave a review? I'd like to PM you a question about how to say something in Greek. The trigger phrase I wrote in this chapter was just the product of a quick Google Translate.
Also, yeah, more foreshadowing. Who is behind the weird Grimm mask that turns you into a Grimm monster? Where did Torchwick get the mask from? Will Shirou ever get more than a few paragraphs of action? Will the OCs be accepted by the readers? Find out in the next chapter!
Update statuses are usually written on my profile.
Edit (04/05/2021): If you have something you want to say and it's not all that positive, please feel free to leave a review using an FF account anyway. I won't bite or start a flame war, promise. I've reached a point in my life that I can accept criticism or malicious attacks on this story. Cuz let's be real, I wrote this story years ago and I admit it's kinda stupid. I'm continuing the story because I still see some value in it as a narrative.
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.