Chapter 2: Pareidolia
"The ocean took away my fears and dreams, but they never returned..."
"Nex?"
Roman Torchwick's voice rang from the other end of the line.
Nex lifted the bagel to his mouth, taking a small bite so he could chew and swallow quickly. Years of practice definitely made him the most efficient person in the entire district. He ate with one hand and held his scroll with the other.
Darkness shrouded their flat, the lights having been switched off for almost a decade straight. It posed no problem for his eyes and it saved on the electricity bill. Plus, it dissuaded would-be robbers. No one wanted to rob a seemingly abandoned house.
His scroll displayed no recognizable face, only an outline of a comical hat and a talking cigar.
Honestly, Roman did not need such an identifier. The man was his most consistent client. He had supplied the thief with intel on dust, shipments and security when he was still a rising star in the underworld.
Now that the thief was top dog, the only thing that changed was the cut Roman paid for his skills as a hacker, an analyst and an informant.
An anonymous thief, in the master criminal's words.
But still, he could not freely spend the ill-gotten cash. The flow of lien could be easily tracked by those with the right know-how. Amateurs exposed themselves by going on a spending spree after a heist. Subtler methods were preferable for his anonymous thievery—receiving his cut via more physical means, depositing lien in hidden caches, and only spending a very, very small amount for his allowance.
The amount he used could be explained away as generous tips from the Huntsman's Respite. But there was a limit on the people's generosity—a limit only a fool would test before the eyes of the law.
Nex swallowed before responding. "Shade here. Line secured. What's the job, Torch?"
He still needed his official job at the bar.
His other, less-reputable job just meant he had a fall-back plan in case shit hit the toilet.
If Atlas discovered he was acting as a criminal's enabler, or if the Grimm razed the city, then he had enough lien in a suitcase to go on a very quiet vacation somewhere in the sands of Vacuo.
He could forge himself a different identity. Maybe he could even get his huntsman license from Shade Academy instead of Beacon.
A change of scenery would be nice.
"It's SDC," Roman said. "I'll have Neo give you a scroll."
Roman Torchwick sounded like he was getting even less sleep than Nexus Shade.
Nex snorted. As if that was even possible.
Roman had his matching tuxedoed goons.
He had no one but himself.
Oh well, oh well.
Speak of the she-devil.
Heeled footsteps padded into the living room. Mismatched eyes peered through the blackness.
The midget smirked, twirling an umbrella over her head.
Neopolitan. Roman's sociopathic little helper.
She was certainly more sociopathic than him. Harmless enough without provocation, but unpredictable enough that he had to be wary. Maybe that was exactly why they both stayed on Roman's payroll.
Nex raised the half-eaten bagel towards the mute minx. "Breakfast?"
Neo shook her head. She tossed a scroll towards him.
Nex caught it with his feet, pushing his back into the couch. He placed his own scroll on the rough fabric, turning his attention to Neo's delivery, even as Roman hung up.
The thief's scroll was pinned between his bare feet.
Nex kicked it towards the ceiling. It fell to the pull of gravity. He caught it with his free hand.
"There's some ice cream in the fridge," Nex said. "Light switch is right behind you."
Neo made straight for the fridge, ignoring the light switch. She rummaged around the freezer, pulling out a carton of branded ice cream. The fancy kind reserved as bribery for his mute coworker. She pulled out a spoon from her pocket, flashing him a smile and a wink.
Neo disappeared with the crackle of darkness.
His wolf ears picked up no other heartbeats in the room aside from his.
Sighing, he switched on Roman's scroll.
Rows of data flashed on the screen. Most of them the thief took from SDC server leaks and public news clippings. A fair amount he received through confidential mail from an informant inside the SDC.
Anonymous, of course.
In their line of work, the lien in their pockets and their set of skills identified people better than their names.
Nex zoomed in on a nice little picture of a mech.
It stood at least ten feet. Mounted dust canons, automated AI and thick titanium plates that could easily withstand the claws of Grimm. It probably cost a buttload of lien, even more if sold to the right bidder. The only one with resources on hand to produce it was the SDC. It was probably why the military was working with them.
Roman Torchwick. What were you up to this time?
Nex closed his eyes, pushing his semblance into full overdrive. The lines of meaningless data coalesced into something concrete in his mind, forming a spiderweb that would take others months to decipher, much less create.
And then he just knew.
Nex pressed a few buttons on Roman's scroll, sending the important details his semblance gleaned.
Roman sent him a quick thanks before the screen fizzled, its internal systems going kaboom to erase the evidence.
Neo would definitely teleport in after he left. She would leave a briefcase of lien on the couch, as per their standard agreement.
Admittedly, getting paid five digits of cash for five minutes of his time was cheap. But he could not actually spend it all at once, so it balanced out in a weird, karmic way.
Ten minutes later, Nex left their flat.
A fifteen-minute jog through the cosmopolitan heartland of Atlas led to its premier and only combat school.
Atlas Primary.
He enrolled at Atlas Primary four years ago. It cost him a fortune of lien. Enough lien that the authorities almost evicted him from their flat, if not for a fateful meeting between a desperate faunus and an even more desperate thief.
He started it. It was too late to end it. He could only adapt in the best way he could. But if he had his way, he would be on a beach enjoying a glass of stirred martini and the company of his shut-eye.
Admittedly, he loved the idea more than the actuality. But what lied in his thoughts was nothing more than a meaningless dream.
It was time to attend to reality.
"Hey, Shade."
Nex groaned, sinking deeper into his desk. The musk of lien floated off the mahogany.
How much money did the asshats in the government invest into this school, anyway?
"It's about the Schnee."
Nex blinked.
A tanned girl crossed her arms over his desk. Her eyes were a peculiar blend of green and yellow. A faunus.
He offered her a deadpan stare. Her freckled cheeks puffed up.
"You're a faunus, aren't you? What's this about Weiss?" Nex said, not bothering to lower his voice.
It was starting to develop an odd rasp. Impossible to scratch away.
The slim, brown-haired girl flinched, even more so when the few dozen students in the room turned their heads. She was lucky there were still twenty minutes before World History, the bulk of the students just starting to enter the classroom, trickling in pairs or in trios.
"If she's holding something over your head, forcing you to be submissive, you can tell us," the girl said, raising a fist. "We faunus have to stick together."
Wait, what?
Him. Submissive. What the hell.
The stimuli from the classroom vanished.
Nex racked his brain for whatever could have led the girl to that particular conclusion, but the only times he and Weiss ever talked was in Dust Practical. Maybe the girl formed her conclusion because Weiss did all of the work in the lab. He thanked her for that. Well, he really did. But then again, his overreliance on Weiss hardly seemed to be submissive.
In fact, it inched closer to being lazy—an accusation he never once denied.
Nex yawned, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "Nope. Weiss isn't what you think she is. She's great. And whatever preconceptions you may have about the SDC, you really should learn how to separate the Schnee from the Weiss."
It made perfect sense.
But the girl's scrunched-up face implied otherwise.
Nex groaned, shrinking into his dark paradise. "Nevermind. Just separate the Schnee from the Weiss and you'll be fine."
Yep. That was his story. And he was sticking to it, even if the familiar beating in Weiss' chest seemed closer and louder than it really should have been.
Whatever.
Nex drifted into neverland, just as the teacher finished waffling about the Faunus Rights Revolution and the Mantle Frequency.
When he woke up, it was to the shuffling of students dripping out the classroom. The teachers had definitely gotten used to his odd sleeping habits. But still, they only let it slide because his grades stood well above the passing average. And that was all that his grades had always been. Adequate, with the exception of combat classes.
He had to thank Amariss for those.
Nex hauled himself to his feet, slipping through the cracks in the stream of students. He passed by the lockers, typing the combination to his own. 4444. A strong contender for the most uninspired passcode ever, along with 0000.
The locker opened with a sharp hiss.
Inside was Hrunting—his trusty sword. On the surface, it was nothing more than a longsword with a double-barrelled shotgun affixed to its hilt.
Hrunting was sheathed inside Vigilance, his mother's old scabbard and heater shield, modified by him to suit his needs. Individually, they were capable of carrying him through most fights.
But united, they became capable of doing so much more.
Hrunting and Vigilance was his very own personal weapon, and half of it was the last birthday gift his mother ever gave him.
Black feathers burst on its surface.
Nex shook his head. Oathkeeper hung over the fireplace in their flat. Dual-wielding in school would attract a lot of attention. It was a rare style, difficult to master and even more difficult to learn, but his semblance provided an amazing shortcut. One he would be remiss not to abuse.
Second period of the second semester started without a hitch.
Nex sat alone on top of the bleachers, a hand propping his chin. The rest of his classmates preferred to sit as close as possible to the battlefield. It was nothing more than a glorified, indoor volleyball court. A barrier bounded the grassy field a few feet away from the bleachers.
His classmates wasted quite the perspective, sitting as close as they did.
Good for them though.
"For the first match, we have Weiss Schnee and Nexus Shade."
Nex took a long, deep breath. His dreams of sleeping through Advanced Combat veered off a cliff and died.
Somehow, it was all that faunus girl's fault.
Nex schooled his expression into a deadpan, leaping off the bleachers. His hood fluttered against the breeze. Aura coated his legs, breaking the force of his impact as he landed with a thud.
What could he possibly say?
Gravitational transport was a lot faster than going down the bleachers on foot.
All eyes turned to his lab partner.
Weiss Schnee marched on the grass with the air of a woman on a mission. She held her multi-action dust rapier with her left hand. Her feet parted, assuming a standard fencing stance. Her pale blue eyes betrayed nothing. But her heart pounded, like war drums against the embroidered fabric of her dress.
Nex slouched in place and almost dozed off.
But the resulting lecture would have taken longer.
Instead, he drew Hrunting with a quiet rasp. His left hand lingered on Vigilance, his collapsed shield begging for a taste of battle.
Seconds passed as the professor waited for the combatants to declare themselves ready.
No.
The only weapon he ever used in school was Hrunting in its most basic form. Not even his whole weapon.
It was going to stay that way, if he had anything to do about it.
Nex shook his head, easing his longsword into a one-handed grip. "Ready."
"I'm ready, Professor Tree," Weiss said, raising her dust rapier into a salute. "May we have a fair and honourable match."
Nex scoffed, rolling his eyes. There was nothing honourable or fair about combat. Or life in general.
The hard light barriers engaged with the whirring of machinery, trapping them inside the field with transparent walls. The arena used a dampening system, filtering all sounds coming in and out of the battlefield as soon as the barriers were engaged. Distractions such as noise would have detrimental effects on the combatants, especially if they happened to have enhanced senses.
Case in point—him.
To her credit, Weiss refrained from lunging in with her rapier. Exploiting her light unarmoured weight and above-average speed was a staple opening move in almost all of her matches.
Instead, she glared at him. Definitely at his lackadaisical stance.
She stepped to her right, tracing an arc that would never really go anywhere.
A waste of energy.
"What's your game?" Weiss said, her eyes narrowing into icy slits.
"Game?" Nex said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not playing. I'll have you know. I'm quite serious about this."
Weiss flinched as if she was struck. She recovered quickly, returning to her well-rehearsed stance. But even if she had not, he would still have passed on the odd opening. She was standing too far away. It would leave him vulnerable if he committed to an attack.
And he definitely meant what he said.
He was totally serious. Sleep was on the line. How much he could still get depended on how fast he could win their spar. Losing by forfeit was out of the question. He hated losing, even if that aversion was deemed irrational by his brain.
Weiss had the first strike. She lunged at him, rapier held out into a telegraphed thrust.
Nex stepped a little to the right, letting the Weiss-shaped blur miss by an inch.
As long as he dodged her attacks, she would be the one losing out on their trades.
Heels screeched against a glyph.
Weiss was planning to slide into another lunge.
Nex stepped a little to the left.
Weiss grazed his exposed back, dreadfully overextended as she returned to where she originally was. Droplets of sweat glimmered on her face.
She raised her rapier, shifting her legs for another lunge.
"Why not counter?" Weiss said. She was buying time to regain her breath. Smart move. "I've seen how quickly you finish the others off."
Nex shrugged. Come to think of it, this was their first time together. "The others aren't as fluid. I'll just stand here and watch you."
Attacking would leave him open. Defence guaranteed no openings and plenty of opportunities for a critical counter. That was his story. He was sticking to it. It was definitely not because his body dragged heavier than usual, his eyelids fighting to even stay half-closed.
Weiss growled. "I'm not giving you any openings that you could exploit."
And she did not need to.
His semblance buzzed in his head, like Amariss telling him everything was going to be okay.
Weiss lunged like an angry cheetah, an array of white glyphs spinning behind her. She accelerated after a few seconds, her speed blurring into inhuman heights.
A good effort.
But she overlooked a critical flaw when moving in speeds alien to the human physiology.
Reaction time.
A driver could not turn if he was going too fast on the road. The same was especially true for huntsmen and huntresses without a specialized speed semblance.
Or a cheetah faunus or something.
Nex stifled a yawn, stepping out of her predetermined flight path. He slashed. The silver crescent. An iai-jutsu technique adapted for use with Hrunting.
The Weiss-shaped blur smashed into the flat of his blade. Her eyes bulged from their sockets.
Hrunting pressed into her diaphragm, pushing it up to her lungs.
Weiss flopped and tumbled, crashing face-first into the wet grass. The morning dew stained the whites and blue of her dress, colouring it with shades of brown and green.
She was lucky.
If he used the sharp end of his sword, then she would have been bleeding to death instead of nursing a bruise.
Maybe even cut in half, all things considered.
Physics was a bitch and a half.
A bitch no man escaped.
The giant screen reflected the damage to her aura, the bar under the Schnee snowflake dipping from green to red.
The third law of motion and her low aura reserves conspired against her. When two objects interacted, they applied forces of equal magnitude and opposite direction to each other.
At the speed she moved, redirecting her force and letting Weiss defeat herself was too easy.
The bar under his emblem barely budged from full capacity. Another victory for the two swords clashing over a kite shield.
"And the match goes to Nexus Shade."
At the end of the day, he won because of a gimmick, and probably because Weiss hyper-fixated on one attack instead of using her absurd, versatile semblance.
The crowd laughed and jeered as he helped Weiss to her feet.
His lab partner coughed, her hands trying to smoothen the creases of her dress. She glared at the rowdy audience with frosty eyes.
Why were they even laughing? Were they laughing at Weiss, him, or something else entirely?
Their jeers were probably directed against him, but he never claimed to be mister popular.
Nex spun to face the crowd, his brain spitting out a retort straight from the bowels of Mantle. "Your laughs mean nothing! I've seen what makes you cry!"
They piped down.
Good.
Silence.
"Miss Schnee, your fencing technique is excellent as always. But a varied approach would be more appropriate against a calculating adversary like Mr Shade. Perhaps next time, use your semblance along with some dust."
The professor rambled on with his stupid, nasally voice, standing amidst the peanut gallery.
"Once again, Mr Shade, I reckon that your adoring audience wants a demonstration on how you actually fight, not on how you win in a one-sided manner. Try not to make a habit out of winning spars with a single strike. And also, do try to stop being so lazy and move a little, will you?"
The laughs returned, this time even louder.
Weiss' cheeks reddened as she clipped her weapon to her waist. She refused to meet his eyes, instead choosing to contemplate her navel.
Nex sighed. Silencing the crowd was futile.
Eventually, the laughter died on its own.
"Regardless," the professor said. "There is a reason why Mr Shade is on the top of this class. You would do well to understand why and seek to emulate his example."
Nex groaned, palming his forehead.
The professor wanted the others to emulate his laziness.
Great.
Now he could add being a bad influence to the list entitled Reasons Why I'm Not Okay (I Promise).
"It was an enlightening bout," Weiss said, her lips taut as rubber bands. "Thank you for the match."
Weiss peered through her eyelashes, her head bowed low. She spun and marched away, her boots crunching over grass.
Nex yawned as he made his way up the bleachers, looking for his lost shut-eye.
What a strange morning.