— A/N —

I apologize for the late update. I had to focus on college-related work.

A reminder that FFNet does not send email notifications for any stories you follow. You have to enable that in your AccountSettings and scroll down to Email opt-in. I find it redundant, but I guess that's here to stay now.

- Reviews -

Molag Vile: Thank you for the compliment. I do appreciate and give thought to feedback (just as long as the reviewer isn't rude about it.)

main882: Same as above; I consider feedback if it helps me improve.

karmax992: Funny that you suggest a knife for his main weapon, though it won't be a kitchen knife.

SirAlphonso: Lol, sounds like a good idea, but I already have a general idea on where the story goes (whether or not it's good is up to the reader.)

Jowasut: Teddy's going to lose. A lot.

Reveiwer: Under normal circumstances he would, but the difference is that he was knocked out instead of being killed by her, so he wanted to see where that would lead to. I made some revisions to those paragraphs to better convey that.

"SAVESCUM"

Chapter Five

Training wasn't about doing something they already knew again and again, it was about getting comfortable with what was difficult to do. For the four of them, it was fighting as a team. Of course, they knew how to fight together, but it was more like four individuals that did their own thing together, with the occasional plan that had them all work as a unit. Hence why Ruby had suggested that they spar against each other in pairs to find what their weaknesses were and how they could cover for it, as well as coming up with team attacks. By the time they were all exhausted, it was the evening; the sky outside the great, big windows to the training hall began to dim, and they all began to walk back to their dorms. Even though their training session was over, that didn't mean that she couldn't try to come up with moves to use in the future.

"Weiss, do you think you could do something that could create a smokescreen? Something that could hide us. I'm thinking maybe you could put down ice, and Yang can heat it up with her semblance to create steam." Ruby walked beside Weiss, who was visibly taking deep breaths as they walked. Her partner, prim and proper as she would say, had foregone with keeping up with appearances.

She hummed. "That could work, but I could always just combine my dust, setting down ice before switching to fire."

"But wouldn't that take too long? As soon as I call it out, you set down the ice and Yang can immediately–"

"C'mon, I'm tired already." Yang sighed and walked ahead of the group. Her head was turned to the side to face them. "Let's just relax for the night. Recover, and do it tomorrow."

Despite her protests in the morning, Yang did take the training seriously, coordinating with Ruby, Blake, and Weiss in team combat. After a lunch break, she had started asking if they should end it there and do something else. Obviously Ruby declined by asking her who does what when she calls out for certain keywords. If Yang got one wrong or forgot the answer, then they trained again—the same went with the others and herself just to keep things fair.

The four of them were getting closer to their dorm room. Down the hallway was their sibling team who resided just across the hall from them—Team JNPR. Jaune and Pyrrha were in the lead, while Nora and Ren were talking, or rather Nora was doing the talking. They each noticed the other and waved.

Jaune was the first to say something. "You guys look beat. What happened?"

"We were training for almost the entire day," Ruby responded.

Pyrrha stepped forward and tilted her head. "Did Glynda have you all train? I thought you all did well in the combat test." Her tone was full of care and concern for them.

"We did, but I decided that we should spend our break training as a team. I just figured that we should always improve." Ruby turned around to see Weiss and Blake agree, but Yang stared at her as though she said something else. I'm not lying, I really do want to get better—all of us.

Pyrrha smiled. "That sounds nice. Maybe we could join too? We could help each other."

"That'd be great!"

Nora dramatically cleared her throat, long enough for everyone there to look at her for a solid second. "Well, training can't be tomorrow, because we're heading out to Vale in the morning."

"Is it alright if we tag along?" Yang was quick to speak. Ruby turned around to face her sister with a confused look. "Studying for the finals was a lot, so we should use this time for ourselves." But to appease her, she said, "We can train after we get back, right?"

Ruby did want to train, but it wouldn't be much if they burned themselves out constantly. That was one thing Yang was right about—they needed time for themselves, and what better way to do that than to hang out with friends. "Yeah," she said before turning to JNPR. "We can go with you, uh, if you're fine with us coming along."

Nora beamed and waved her off. "The more the merrier! We don't have any real plans, just explore the city, maybe go to a diner, the park, or the arcade. Anywhere!"

The park—exactly where she met the killer. He looked like any other person, and about the age of a student in Beacon, but underneath that exterior was someone who enjoyed killing. He was still out there in Vale, doing who knows what. It's eight of us if we all go out to Vale. We'll be fine.

Ruby smiled along with the others as they each exchanged comments, and went into their dorms for the night.

· · ·

"My dear, Roman. I heard you were behind on schedule." Cinder's sultry voice filled the empty cafe. Her two subordinates sat opposite from her at their table.

"By five minutes. Could you believe how bad traffic is in the commercial district?"

Unlikely given the curfew; traffic is barely a fourth of what it was during the day. Cinder scoffed. "Then maybe you should take that into consideration before you go to your next job. I can't afford to have you delay things due to your incompetence. Unless… you want your employment to be terminated?" The hitch of breath over the line had her satisfied.

"That won't be necessary. I'll be on time and make sure everything runs smoothly on my end."

"Good." She ended the call and slipped the scroll into her jacket's pocket. Tonight she had worn a high-end black fur coat over her usual red dress—something fitting for one such as herself.

"A 'professional', he calls himself. What a joke." Mercury sat with arms crossed, smirking to himself. He was the son of a well-known hitman in the criminal underworld of Vale. Cinder would've preferred the actual hitman himself, but Mercury was good enough.

"What happens next, ma'am?" Emerald, so eager to please, asked her with a neutral face. A street kid she picked up, though she acted more like an obedient dog. Cinder spared her only a glance before she addressed the two.

"We've done everything on our end, we have to wait for him to be done on his. By tomorrow morning, the storage in the old warehouse should be in its new location, and Roman should be on his way to procure the 'package'." She was vague about what it was in case there was someone eavesdropping. Mercury and Emerald knew what she was referring to—the dust Roman had stolen would be transported to Mountain Glenn, and the Atlesian Paladin would be taken in order to convince the new White Fang initiates to follow along.

"You're both free for now. Just lay low until Beacon's second semester begins." The two silently nodded, and left the cafe with the bell at the top of the door signaling their departure.

Outside of Roman's incompetence, things were coming along nicely. The Headmaster of Haven Academy, Lionheart, had them registered in their systems, making it inconspicuous about their place at Beacon. Watts, as much as she despised him, had the virus made and ready to be used at the CCT. So far, their cover hasn't been blown yet, and they're freely able to move throughout Vale without any issues. With each passing day towards the Vytal Festival, each successful step in her plan, she could feel her half of the Fall Maiden powers beckon to be whole. Soon, I'll finally have what is rightfully mine.

Finishing her cup of coffee, Cinder got up and exited into the cold night. Her heels echoed out in the distance. This is the most silent Vale has ever been. No people, and no cars driving, save for the occasional police car off in the distance. All of this thanks to the curfew; no one wanted to risk becoming a victim to the serial killer. Anyone outside during this time would be questioned and brought in by the police, but they couldn't be everywhere, so she had no worries about being seen.

After walking a long distance, Cinder entered the high-rise apartment complex and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Once its doors opened, she strolled down the hall towards her room. The hall of doors that led down to hers had small hologram panels that indicated if a room was already in use by someone, as well as if it was locked or unlocked; her neighbor's door indicated that it was not locked properly. Cinder hummed amusedly as she held up the scroll to unlock the door to her lavish apartment.

The architecture was contemporary, with neutral colored walls, and geometric light fixtures that hang from the ceiling. There was a large glass sliding door that led out to the balcony. This was meant to be a place where she could lay low as the room was rented under a false name. With the lien that she had been given, living conditions and other necessities were something that wouldn't be an issue. All she had to do was focus on her plan.

But the night was still young. Cinder turned on the television, to which the holographic projection immediately opened up to the news. Two older men were in the middle of the discussion, and while she didn't know what they were talking about, it would soon be clarified for her.

"–on't understand. 'The Grin of Vale: serial killer, or vigilantism gone wrong'. That's the title of our segment, right? Well, let me set the record straight by saying that it's very clear, cut, an' dry that this is a killer we're talking about. When did the notion that this was ever about vigilantism begin with?"

"I believe it was the fact that all of the killer's victims were criminals. Gang members, petty criminals, and more recently, police reports have come out saying that members of the White Fang had been attacked by him. Of course, that doesn't make the perpetrator right. It's the law that punishes crime, not any one individual, as well as the professional huntsmen and police that prevent it from happening."

Cinder listened to them continue on, discussing back and forth over the little details with great examination as she moved some hanged clothes out of the way to get to the empty hanger. She hung her coat on it and placed it neatly along the rack. Hearing their discussion become slightly more heated in the background put a smile on her face.

Her main goal here in Vale was to cause as much chaos, build up tension before the Vytal Festival begins. This 'rogue variable' was already doing a nice job at stirring the pot, so to say; a mandated curfew before sundown, and the media churning out piece after piece on who the killer is, his motives, and his murdered victims. That's the one good thing the news can do—show them one bad thing, and they'll make it worse tenfold in the eyes of the public. All of it helps her plans.

Cinder went to the kitchen to grab a drink—specifically that Mistrali Red. The fridge opened, and she reached for the bottom shelf. There was an empty spot where she last remembered the wine was placed. I know I left it there. I haven't moved it since. Was she forgetting things? She shouldn't be—not at her age, and definitely not one such as herself.

Perhaps it was just paranoia, but she walked into her bedroom. Everything was where it was this morning, but upon closer inspection, one of the drawers of her dresser was slightly cracked open. She opened all of them to see her socks and undergarments. Perhaps the paranoia was getting to her, because it really was not this messy before; it looked like someone had rummaged through them, then placed the pile of clothing back to how it generally looked in a hasty way. Her eyes darted to the closet door, and as she opened it, she breathed a sigh of relief that it was still there, underneath a stack of neatly folded blankets.

Was someone in here? It was a stretch of imagination, her mind assured her that it was playing tricks on her after a long day. But what if it wasn't? Given her plans, she had to assume the worst. Does Ozpin know who I am, and sent one of his pawns to search my apartment? If that was the case, then her plans would be completely and utterly jeopardized. Months of planning would have to be revised. No, I can worry about that later. Right now, I need to find out how they even got in in the first place, assuming that is the case.

The front door was unlikely the point of entry; it had an electronic lock that only opened with the registered scroll. In addition, any failed attempts of entry from the wrong scroll would alert her scroll—a fancy feature that was a part of the apartment's security. Her room was five stories from the ground, which rules out the balcony and the windows as the point of entry—even if they had normal locks.

Her eyes widened. Getting into the apartment would be near impossible from the ground, but from the adjacent balcony? The air never felt so cold before in her own place. They broke into my apartment through my neighbor?! Cinder quickly rushed out of her bedroom into the wide, open space of the living room. The TV was still on with an advertisement playing in the background. As she neared the balcony, she found the door locked.

That doesn't make sense. It has to be closed before it could be locked properly to prevent a tenant from locking themselves on their own balcony, and it can only be locked from the inside. If the intruder did break in through there, they would have to pick the lock, then pick the lock again to lock it on their way out. That, to her, seemed redundant. Either her mind was making all of this up, or…

They're still here. They were still inside her apartment, hiding from her. A shiver shot up her spine. No, that's good; it means that I can still silence them. Her usual sultry, confident demeanor made itself known.

"You shouldn't keep a lady waiting." Cinder used her seductive tone for two main reasons: to fools, it brought their guard down or made them underestimate her; to those who were sharp, they understood how dangerous she could be. "Why don't you come out and meet me?"

She kept absolutely still, her eyes darting across the room for any movement. All of it could be a coincidence—the balcony door was still locked because that was how she left it; her neighbor just forgot to lock his door, because he was tired or had a night of drinking; her wine was misplaced and was probably in one of the cupboards.

I can't be making this up; there's too many coincidences, too many signs that something is wrong. Cinder tried to listen to any sounds of the floor creaking or a doorknob being turned, but everything to her right was blocked out by the loud advertisement playing on her TV. Slowly, steadily, she gently reached over to the coffee table for the remote.

As soon as the holographic display flicked off, something smacked against the glass. Cinder whipped her head around, fast, to see no one. On the ground was a cork, the very same one for the bottle of red wine. What is…! Cinder turned back to see it—a pale, white comedy theater mask stretched into a painfully wide smile, so much so that it displayed both rows of the mask's teeth.

The serial killer—Grin.

Cinder jumped out of the way of his punch, but he didn't stop there. In his off-hand, he wielded a broken bottle with a large glass shard protruding out that he swung so wildly, one would assume this was a mental patient gotten loose. In those brief wind ups before Grin swung again, his eyes stared unblinkingly at her through the crescent-shaped holes of the mask.

Her shock wore off.

"Do you think you're clever? This is where you will die." Heat emanated from the palms of her hand, and from the heated dust particles in the air, she formed two glass swords. To say that they traded blows would be wrong, because that was not the case; she had been the one trying to attack him by swinging, while he did nothing but step out of the way.

"You were so eager to attack me, Grin. What's wrong? Did you realize how out of my league you are?" Another slice, another miss. "You chose the wrong person to make a victim of." It wasn't skill that Grin possessed, it was merely luck that he was able to narrowly avoid her for this long.

She leaned back and shot her foot out to kick him. A mistake—no, a simple miscalculation on her part. Grin stepped off to her right to catch her leg with his main hand, the other hand stabbing the glass bottle down into her thigh. A sharp pain shot up her leg, wincing, but otherwise still fine; Cinder's aura dissipated most of the force and prevented the glass shard from puncturing her skin.

With her right foot pivoting off of Grin, her left foot jumped up to land a kick to his head. It annoyed her that she missed by an inch. She was thrown back when he pushed her leg away from him, and Cinder had to roll backwards onto her feet.

An angry grunt came from her, but her scowl morphed into a smug smile. Cinder's semblance allowed her to manipulate objects that she heats up in many ways. The ground that she touched glowed bright orange with an eye made of fire. The scream it made was not different from a kettle. With a snap of her fingers, it erupted into a flash of white, followed by a fiery explosion. Because it was created from her semblance, she made sure the explosion was contained to the area that Grin stood at instead of damaging the rest of the apartment and herself—though the shockwave from it caused all the windows and glass to shatter. The smoke alarm rang, first in her apartment, then throughout the entire building. The sounds of the other tenants rushing out of their rooms and down the halls to the fire escape came from the other side of her door.

As the smoke began to dissipate, Grin was gone. The glass on the balcony door was completely blown out. Cinder ran up to the railing and looked down, but he wasn't there. She looked to the side where her neighbor's balcony was. Only then did it click. He's with the other tenants escaping. A smart move—she wouldn't be able to kill him with that many witnesses.

The fight was over, as much as she hated to admit it, but with that realization, her body eased up from a tension that she didn't know. A lot happened in those ten seconds. She brushed her hand over her leg where Grin attacked her. If her aura didn't come up in time, she wouldn't be picking pieces of glass out from her leg, she would be dead; Grin would have taken advantage of her weakened state to kill her. The very notion that she had been bested by no one but a deranged lunatic with a broken bottle contorted her face into a disgusted, snarling expression.

Cinder should have killed him. Maybe she could have if the fight had gone on longer. She was supposed to be unstoppable, skilled in using her semblance and blades—that's not including the Fall Maiden power. During the fight, she didn't want to use it. To use that on him would be admitting that he was a problem worth using her Maiden powers on.

The sounds of sirens broke her from her thoughts. The emergency services were on their way to the source of the explosion, and would investigate her apartment for the cause of it. There was only one important thing she needed to take with her. She rushed over to her bedroom and reached up to the top shelf of her closet. Underneath a pile of neatly folded blankets, a black briefcase was withdrawn.

· · ·

Cinder clutched onto the briefcase and her fur coat as she ran. All the tenants had gathered outside in the parking lot in front of the building, which forced her to take the side entrance through an alleyway. She stopped in a park to take a short breath. Smoke billowed out from the fifth floor of the apartment. Her rug must've caught fire and spread out to the rest of her room. Good, it'll get rid of anything I couldn't take with me.

The briefcase was set on the ground beside her as she put her coat on. She'll have to lay low at one of the other hideouts. The only downside to that was none of them were as accommodating as her main place. This is nothing but a setback—the plan still goes on. But I'll just have to kill Grin later.

Cinder wondered why he was even there. Grin's motive behind killing is related to crime, but as far as he should know, she was just a normal civilian. Perhaps it was a copycat killer. That thought was quickly discarded; she would prefer that she didn't beat the actual killer rather than a wannabe.

Her hand reached down to the briefcase and she walked at a brisk pace. Not three steps later did she stop. Cinder stared at the black leather briefcase as she lifted it up by a small amount, then brought it back down. Bringing it level with her face, she rotated the three dials to unlock it.

Empty. Everything that her plan relied on was gone.

In the echoes of a fire alarm and sirens in the distance, Cinder's scream filled the air.

· · ·

The smell of nicotine never got old—or perhaps that was the addiction talking. Roman leaned on the table in the middle of the room as he waited in one of his saferooms—the storage room of a convenience store under his pay. The smoke from his cigar reached up and gathered to the single ceiling lamp in the room. His watch read 2:36—it was morning, but the sun hadn't come out yet. Roman lifted his head up to the opening door. The kid of the hour. Teddy walked in and laid out the contents of his mission. A lopsided smile formed on Roman's face.

"You, sir, are a natural."

He looked at a school uniform that consisted of a white undershirt, black coat and a grey-and-black checkered skirt. To the right of it was a student ID that Roman picked up. Haven Academy. If it wasn't for the fact that the photo showed the face of his employer, it could've fooled him. Cinder, the one who would burn me alive if I so much as backtalk to her… in a school uniform… Roman shuddered. Finally, the last item he brought back was a scroll with a matte black finish. It wasn't Cinder's personal scroll, as her's was white. And while there was no way of knowing for sure what it did, it must've been important—unless the kid really just brought back a random scroll.

Cinder had only kept him on a need-to-know basis, meaning that he didn't know what she was up to while he was doing the grunt work. But with what Teddy brought in, he could make some wild guesses. Students from other academies are coming to Beacon for the Vytal Festival; she plans to sneak in and do something. His eyes lingered on the black scroll before pocketing it inside his jacket.

"You did fine work, kid." He fished out a bundle of lien held together by two rubber bands, and a scroll from underneath the table. "Here, just as promised. Three-thousand lien. The scroll is something complimentary—it's untraceable and has my contact. Don't lose it."

Teddy nodded, and with no other words, walked towards the door. He couldn't help but notice how untired the kid looked—he looked just as awake and energized as he did when he woke up in that chair. As the door clicked shut, five seconds passed before Neo came out from hiding. She looked at him questionably.

"What? It's good to have an unknown in your pocket. Cinder won't even connect the dots before we're gone and far away from her." Neo shrugged at him.

The two pulled out and dropped their scrolls to the ground, and dug their heels into it, making sure that it was beyond repair. This is it. The point of no return. Cinder has no way of contacting them anymore. He'd grown tired of the whole 'business arrangement'. He does what she says and he gets to continue living. It was painfully obvious that as soon as he lived out the rest of his usefulness to her, she'll get rid of him… and Neo. No, that won't happen.

Roman would've walked out on her long ago, but he couldn't while she was still around—that was just a death sentence waiting to happen. Either she had to die or she had to be someone else's problem. He had a hunch that making it Beacon's problem was a good idea.

And his hunches had never led him wrong.

"SA VES C#M"

"The First Time"

I'm in.

After knocking out that one tenant and taking his scroll, Teddy was able to break in by picking the lock to the balcony door—and by picking the lock, he meant brute-forcing it via trial-and-error. It was one of the main reasons why he never did missions or side-quests in this game—there's no fun, no exhilaration, in reloading a save to solve a puzzle. He made sure to lock it on his way in—a habit he does every time he's supposed to be stealthy.

Some people would say that was why he shouldn't savescum, as it removed any tension or stakes in a game. Obviously, Teddy thought otherwise. He wanted to have fun, not be stuck solving puzzles. If he did, then he'd be taking night-classes before he went to bed.

[Quicksave Complete…]

For the next three minutes, he searched the living room, the bedroom, and the kitchen. The fridge played a jingle when he opened it. Oh wow, Mistralian red wine and Valean pastries. He had yet to order that pizza, so why not have a taste of some food beforehand? It's not like it'll actually fill up his stomach. He peeled the mask off and shoved buttery biscuits in his character's mouth with reckless abandon.

"Who are you?" Teddy turned around to see the target—a woman in a red dress with black hair and amber eyes that burned into him.

Quite the predicament he was in. In one hand was a piece of bread, the other a bottle of wine; both were thrown at her as he threw himself over the counter and ran into a bathroom. As soon as he pressed the circular button to lock the door, it shook with each thud against it.

"Come out, right now!" Angry wouldn't begin to describe the inhuman tone that came from her. The pounding against the door continued on and on, then stopped, only for it to splinter as a blade made of glass was chopping into it.

Teddy looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, and grabbed the first thing he could reach for. A toothbrush. Yes, this should work. The hole in the door was bigger now, enough for her to look into the bathroom and scowl at him. He knew had to restart anyway, but a psychopathic woman was about to murder him in her own bathroom—there was only one logical thing to do.

Teddy held up his middle finger and the toothbrush towards her, as though he were trying to purge and cleanse an evil spirit from within. Obviously, it didn't work, and only served to make it more angry; for they had taken over her body and had made her right eye erupt into flames. She took a step back from the door and her arm was placed through the hole. The whole bathroom went up in flames.

[Loading Quicksave…]

She is actually possessed. What? It came out of nowhere for him, but he put that thought to the side. I have less than five minutes before she arrives. I could have fun with this. Every retry following this was spent both looking for any indication of what she's planning here in Vale, as well as moving some things around to make her paranoid.

— A/N —

A bit of a lengthy one—or perhaps it feels short—especially since it's mainly in Cinder's perspective. The fight with Cinder and Teddy was brief, mainly because I reasoned that Teddy's goal isn't to fight her, but to grab 'quest' items and get out of there as fast as possible.

"SA VES C#M" is basically an omake. Whether it's canon or not is up to the reader.

After having read the RWBY wiki page on Cinder's semblance, I thought, "Oh, she can use her semblance like Killer Queen," because literally anything she can turn things into a 'bomb', like when she shoots arrows at Amber that exploded, or how she disintegrated Pyrrha—almost like how Kira disintegrated a disembodied arm.

Please let me know your thoughts, and if there's anything that I can improve—be it grammatically or story-wise.

Published: November 25, 2022