Sahra stared down the sight of his rifle towards the Tongue in front of the ugly building and very carefully did not move.
Things like this required a delicate touch, a light hand; one had to be very mindful of every move they made to ensure success. One slip could mean failure, one errant twitch and your window of opportunity could close. This was Sahra's bread and butter, his toast and jam, his pita-
A fly went up his nose.
Sahra sneezed.
A bullet hit the ground in front of him.
Well, you know what they say: the God of Darkness closes a window, so the God of Light opens a door.
Sahra exploded into action, rifle spitting 12.7x55 burn rounds-or, it would have, had it not jammed the third time he worked the lever. He dove to the sand once more, tossing his no good piece of sh-ahem, heirloom rifle aside and drawing his (hopefully) trusty revolvers. Chambered in .450 Marlin, the paired handguns would tear through almost anything with ease.
Comedy fired once, tearing through an unfortunate (depending on how you looked at it) ganger's mask and straight into the concrete behind his head. Tragedy followed and another gangbanger had his personality reset. Sahara rolled to his left and launched himself further back behind a dune, taking the moment to lift his bandanna and spit out some sand.
Sahra knew the Tongues would be encircling him already, so he quickly replaced the two spent cartridges and shouted, "I've only got twelve rounds here, so some of you are just gonna have to share!"
"Piss off, you little shit!" was the only response.
He leaned his head out to the side, earning a round that was perhaps a little too close for comfort.
Seven on the right, so that makes ten on the left.
Plans already awhirl in his mind, Sahra counted off three seconds and rolled to his right. Snapping off a shot from Tragedy at a pair of idiots who were still standing in a line after his declaration and pairing it with one from Comedy turned seven into four.
The Tongues were quick to return fire, and Sahra damned the gang and the training it afforded it's members. Always have to be the best, huh? Well, it ain't gonna be enough.
Sahra was already moving, though, and the shots narrowly whizzed passed him, the cracking sound sending chills down his spine. Another three shots and all that was left to deal with was the big group that was just now coming around the dune. Instead of immediately engaging, Sahra dashed to his right further around the dune and out of the lead ganger's line of sight. Quickly crawling up the side of the sand dune, he laid out and grabbed an HE grenade. Pulling the pin, he watched as the group of Tongues turned the bend. Releasing the spoon and tossing the frag directly into the center of the formation, Sahra covered his own head and faced down.
Sure, the fragmentation may not really do much to him, but getting hit with a tiny piece of high velocity metal still really hurt. That was basic physics.
One explosion later and Sahra was trying to peer through the dust to tell how many he had gotten. Barely ten seconds later and a bullet whizzed wildly through the cloud, telling him at least one had survived.
"Man, you guys don't even have the decency to bunch up for me, huh? Gotta make it a challenge?" he shouted, quietly coming down the dune.
"Shut the fuck up and die, nimal!" some idiot threatened.
Hah. Moron. I've got your number now.
Sahra circled around towards where he had heard the voice. Through the haze he could barely make out a figure sweeping back and forth. Holstering Tragedy, he drew his knife into his left hand. Sahra closed in on the Tongue, carefully measuring his steps so as to avoid the shoof-shoof of walking on sand.
Ten feet.
Eight.
Five.
Two.
Sahra lunged, jabbing his knife into the base of the Tongue's skull. The bastard fell and Sahra caught the body before laying it down gently. A shot slammed into his back and he gave an oof at the impact.
Sahra whirled, sighted, and fired in the span of two seconds, taking another bullet to the abdomen for his troubles. A thump followed.
God, stop it with the bullets, would ya? Shit bruises.
"Pull out! Get clear of the dust!" shouted one of the Tongues, wising up.
Sahra fired Comedy in the direction of the voice, hoping to hit smartiepants, but was met with silence. He dropped, and orienting himself back towards the dune, began to crawl back towards it. The supersonic cracks of bullets overhead proved his decision correct a few seconds later. He continued crawling, momentarily reminded of a film he'd once seen.
The gangers stopped firing and Sahra cautiously stood, making his way up the dune. Sheathing his knife and drawing Tragedy once more, he reloaded his paired revolvers once on the other side of the sand dune. Ready once more, Sahra stood and looked over the top.
Still just a cloud of dust.
Sahra decided to simply circle around the dune. Turning the bend, he opened fire with Comedy on the single Tongue visible.
"He's behind the dune!" came a cry from somewhere on the other side of the dust cloud.
Sahra fired Tragedy through the cloud again and was rewarded with a scream as it connected. He circled further around the cloud, sending another shot from Comedy towards a freshly visible bastard.
"Dong, dong, little Tongue," Sahra singsonged, "the bell tolls for you."
No answer. Maybe the last guy wised up after seeing so many of his idiot buddies make the same mistake.
"Don't make me come in there, young man," Sahra said sternly.
Still nothing.
"Alright. Well, you won't like what happens now," Sahra said. "Like, not at all."
Holstering Comedy and Tragedy, Sahra slammed his hands to the ground and a forest of fractal wooden spikes rose into the dust cloud in response. A wet scream sounded from the interior of the field.
"Told you so," Sahra said, humor lost.
Putting his hands to the ground once more to lower the spikes, Sahra looked to the air and whistled. A quarter of a minute passed and he whistled again, this time louder.
"Okay, Deek, I know you're up there," he shouted. "Gimme my stuff. I feel weird without my hat."
A couple seconds later a bag hit his head and drove him to his knees. "Alright, haha Deek, very funny. You really got me that time."
Placing the bag securely on his back Sahra plucked a fluttering wicker hat out of the air before putting it back where it belonged. A light impact on his right shoulder followed. He turned to see Deek giving him a single baleful eye.
Turning towards the north Sahra reached into his pocket and tossed the bird a piece of jerky. Deek snapped it out of the air and ruffled his feathers. Sahra grabbed his rifle from where he had tossed it and worked to clear the jam.
"So, back to town it is," he said to his partner.
His partner said nothing.
"Alright. Be like that, then," he pouted.
Deek pecked his head.
"Ow! You little bastard!"
Deek looked at him smugly.
Sahra changed tack. "Think there's anything of worth in that mess?" he asked, jerking his thumb at the smattering of ugly concrete buildings.
Deek turned to look at the buildings and gave them a critical eye.
"Yeah, probably not. These are the Tongues we're talking about here," Sahra agreed. "Now to trek all the way back. So not looking forward to that."
"Man, I've got a thirst a mile wide," Sahra complained. The desert was an unforgiving place. And Sahra was no stranger to its harshness. Sure, he carried water and knew how to get some should he need it, but goddamnit he was allowed to complain. The desert was hot, and no amount of aura could change that.
"Sometimes I really wish I hadn't skipped out on that deal at Mashik's," he bemoaned. "Sure, it would have set me back a bit and the fuel would have been impossible to find, but that buggy would have been real useful right about now."
Sahra crested another sand dune.
Sahra crested another sand dune.
Sahra crested another sand dune.
"Fuck this is boring," he muttered.
Sahra crested another sand dune.
The mountain seemed closer.
Sahra crested another sand dune.
Sahra crested another sand dune.
"Feet don't fail me now
one foot in the gutter,
one in the clouds," he sang. Deek pecked his head.
"Ow! Bastard! I'm trying to make this at least a little interesting," he whined.
Sahra crested another sand dune.
"Alright, just another dozen to go," he said. "That's nothing. I can do that. I've done that before. In fact, I've been doing it ALL DAY!"
Sahra crested another sand dune.
Sand. Sand. I hate sand so goddamn much. It's everywhere. It gets everywhere. It's irritating. Fucking sand. Fucking Vacuo. You know, it would be nice to have some sort of public transportation out here. Sand busses. Sand taxis. Something. Anything...that we won't fucking get, BECAUSE WE HAVE NO CENTRAL GOVERMENT.
"Fucking Vacuo," Sahra muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"Gods!" Sahra shouted, jumping backwards at the voice. "Ah! I've made it! I'm here!"
And indeed he had: the mountain loomed before him. Panj was an ancient city, set into the face of the mountain, built by an ancient Vacuoan tribe, or some such nonsense. Sahra didn't particularly care.
What he did care about, though, was getting a drink. So with due haste he passed the guard, entered Panj, and made a beeline for his client. He walked quickly through the sandy streets and brown buildings, Deek sitting contentedly on the leather piece on Sahra's shoulder. Sahra knew he was getting stares, but they weren't his problem. If someone decided it was, then it would be their problem. Vacuo wasn't exactly welcoming, but if you could hack it in the desert, you were pretty much a native.
Sahra shook himself from his musings as he reached his destination. Adil's Shrunken Head, it was called, and it was the only bar around. Sahra was pretty sure the beer was more water than alcohol, but it was beer, and it was the only beer around for miles.
Sahra pushed the door open and took in the interior. Smokey and dark, it was just like every other bar in Vacuo: filled to bursting with people who had nowhere else to be. Welcome to Vacuo, the saying went, Remnant's own dry, sandy shithole.
Looking left, Sahra made his way to the booth where he knew Ahkmazar would be. He slid into the seat across from the man and said, "Tongues are no longer a problem."
"Good," came the reply.
Clink, came the lien.
Mine, went his wallet.
Sahra slid the lien across the table and swept it into his bag, reaching in and stuffing it into a hidden compartment along the lining. "Good doing business with you, Ahkmazar," he said.
"You too," was the muffled response from the facedown man.
Sahra stood and made his way to the bar, flagging the bartender and ordering a neat whiskey. He looked about the patrons of the bar idly, simply letting himself unwind from his day. All that walking was bad for the soul.
The drink was delivered and Sahra lowered his bandanna to taste it. Setting the glass down, he glanced at the man who had just sat down next to him.
The stranger opened his mouth without looking at Sahra. "What's a kid like yourself doing drinking something like that?"
Sahra just stared at him like he had grown a third head. "Are we in the same kingdom here?"
"Just don't see too many kids around these parts, that's all."
"There ain't any kids in Vacuo."
There was a moment of silence before the stranger spoke again. "That's a nice bird."
"Yeah," Sahra replied, already tired of the idiot trying to talk to him. Man, it was hard to just get away in a bar. Get a big hat that hides the eyes, bandanna, guns, imposing six and a half foot stature, and you'd think that people would leave you alone. Clearly Sahra would have to work on looking intimidating.
"You ever get tired of doing mercenary work?"
Sahra was caught off guard by the question. This guy didn't look like he was from around here, and he sure didn't sound it, either. Sure, the guy might have seen the exchange of lien and made conclusions from there, but Sahra hadn't exactly advertised his services to Panj(not that he needed to). He liked to think "that bastard in the sand-colored poncho" was pretty well known around these parts.
"What's it to you?" Sahra asked, trying to feel out the offer that it clearly was. This guy didn't seem the type to just ask out of idle curiosity.
"Just asking, brother," the stranger said.
"Not like there's anything better to do around here," Sahra answered. "It's Vacuo."
"Ever go to school?"
If the previous question caught him off guard, that one completely blindsided him.
"...what?" was his eloquent response. "Man, this is Vacuo. I've said it enough times for you to get it. Fuck you mean, 'have I gone to school?'"
"Saw your work out there," the stranger said.
"What, you following me around? Some kind of stalker?" Sahra snorted. "I don't need to tell you that's a bad idea."
"You're good, kid, but you're missing something," the stranger continued.
Sahra was starting to get real bad vibes from this guy. Whiskey forgotten, he shifted in his seat and slowly lowered his hands down to Comedy and Tragedy.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" Sahra challenged.
The stranger turned, allowing Sahra to get a good look at his red eyes and lined face. "An education," he said, "that's what you're missing. You've got all the street smarts in the world, but your technique needs work."
The statement left Sahra dumbfounded. It almost sounded like… "What, do you want me to go to your school or something?"
"Yeah."
Sahra stared for a moment. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
Sahra turned back to his drink and downed the rest of it in one go. "I think that was quite possibly the worst way you could've handled that."
The stranger lifted one brow. "Oh?"
"Yeah, dumbass. You don't do that to a nima. Walking in and acting all shady like, asking all these questions, that's a fast track to getting a frontal lobotomy via a dust round around here."
The stranger snorted derisively. "I can handle myself."
Sahra turned to the bartender and ordered another whiskey.
"Gods. Why the hell do you want me, anyways? Thought those huntsman schools were all goody-goody?" Sahra questioned. Huntsman were protectors and all that, not mercenaries scrabbling in the dirt like everyone else.
"Well, for one, your aura's huge-" "Not the only thing." "-and you're obviously skilled. I figure you'd make a good huntsman. Not to mention that wood thing."
Sahra sighed. "You better have a bullhead to Shade, then, cuz I sure ain't gonna hoof it there."
The stranger did a double take. "Shade? No, you'd be going to Beacon."
Sahara stopped. "...Beacon? You want me to go to Vale?"
"Yeah. Didn't I mention that?"
Sahra sighed again, resisting the urge to order another drink. "No, no you did not."
"Oh. Well then, is it gonna be a yes or a no?"
Sahra considered for a moment. It wasn't like he was really giving up much out here, and he stood to gain a good bit if he accepted. "You know what? Fuck it. Yeah, I'll go. And anyways, what the hell's your name?"
"Name's Crow. Now let's get going," the stranger said as he stood.
Sahra looked desperately at the bartender. "Just give me the bottle. Please."
Sahra found himself wishing he had brought another bottle. The bullhead ride was, believe it or not, more boring than the endless sands. At least then he had been walking. There he could focus on the movement of his feet, the up-down one step forward two steps back of traversing the deserts of Vacuo. Here, though, he could sit and stare at some sand as it passed. Then some water.
Deek was feeling it too, as he had been shuffling around on Sahra's shoulder for the whole ride. Now, that might have been because there wasn't any space for flying, but Sahra preferred his theory. At least then he'd have someone else to share his misery with.
It wasn't even like he could sleep: the metal bulkheads were distinctly uncomfortable, and the small craft was being buffeted far too much.
So yeah, Sahra was bored. Not really much to do in the sky when you've got nothing but a couple of changes of clothes, three guns, a knife, and some ammunition. He couldn't even mess with his semblance up here.
He toyed with the idea of cleaning his rifle, but tossed it after the bullhead was rocked a bit. Parts would go flying and he'd have to pick that up and reorganize it and that was a mess he didn't want to deal with.
"Fuuuuuck. Hey, Crow, isn't there anything to do on this brick?"
"Not really, kid," was the reply from the cockpit.
Sahra lolled his head back and forth.
"Hey, Crow, what the hell's Beacon even like? My imagination has one setting: sand."
"That must suck," Crow replied. "As for Beacon...well, it's a beacon. Big, shiny, and eye-catching."
"Sounds awful," Sahra reacted. It truly did: big, shiny, and eye-catching did not sound like his kind of place. He was more into the dark alleyway type aesthetic.
Sahra wondered if Crow had any family. He seemed to be about the right age for his kids to be going to school, if he had them. Sahra knew better than to ask, though. There were just certain things you didn't ask on Remnant, and family was a sore subject for many.
Gods, Sahra was bored. All dressed up and nowhere to go, no one to shoot, and nothing to do. Or was it nothing to shoot, and no one to do? Sahra didn't really think it mattered much in the end.
"Hey Crow, you got any tunes on this thing?"
"Doubt there's any good radio up here, but I can try."
The next second saw Sahra's ears assaulted by static. "Fuck! Warn a nima, would you?"
Deek was similarly offended by the noise, squawking indignantly and ruffling himself. Sahra tossed him a piece of jerky for his troubles.
"Sorry!"
Grumbling to himself, Sahra was pleased when the Kings Of The Modern Age came on. A Vacuoan group, the KOTMA were one of the more famous acts around the kingdoms. Known for driving drum parts and a signature guitar tone, Sahra had found them perfect for assaulting the ears of some unlucky Tongues he had been hired to take care of. The poor bastards never knew what hit them. Since then he had been enamored with the group, staying wherever he found their music playing.
In the city, is it true
If you don't, you act like you do
Feast of fools, I can't wait
Give 'em a taste-
"Hey kid! We're coming up to Vale in a minute here!"
"Righto!" Fucking finally.
As the city came into sight, Sahra was struck by the sheer size of it-it seemed unreal. The city was truly massive. This was a kingdom's capital, it seemed. Sahra wasn't fooled by the pretty veneer of towering glass structures or the cute city streets, though. He was sure that beneath the surface of Vale lay a blackened heart, just like all the other kingdoms. That's just the way the world was. Remnant was a shitty place to live, and it liked to let humanity know.
The walls were just another reminder to him that the world sucked. Even from above he doubted they would make him feel safe. It was more likely they would make him feel hemmed in, trapped like a rat in a ravine. Oh sure, they protected the city from the lesser grimm, but to something like the Kumiho? Less than paper. Thank the gods that monstrosity was still somewhere in Mistral.
That was the truth: those big walls were little more than a trap. All they really did was gather up all those tasty little morsels into one spot, making it that much easier for the city-enders to wipe them out. Sahra didn't know why the big boys hadn't already gone and razed the kingdoms, and honestly? That lack of knowledge terrified him. Grimm were supposed to be mindless beasts hellbent on the destruction of humanity as a whole, and when there were grimm so overwhelmingly strong that a casualty rate of one half of the huntsman fighting was a good day, it just didn't make sense to him. Sahra didn't like to think of it often, something made easier by the fact that he lived in Vacuo. When he did, though, he realized one thing.
Humanity was living by the grace of it's captors, and they could do nothing about it.
Crow, the bastard, had dumped him at a motel and told him to be at Beacon tomorrow before saying he had to be somewhere and just fucking off. Sahra was sort of pissed at him, but it wasn't entirely unexpected and nor was he incapable of dealing with it.
it wasn't an unfamiliar experience. Vale might have been a trip, but he wasn't totally helpless. He had a room and knew where the airship port was, and that was really all he needed.
Walking to the guy at the desk, he asked, "Hey man, you know where a nima can get a drink around here?"
Desk-guy gave him a once over, brow raising at Sahra's attire and partner. "...Junior's, down the street. Take a left out the front door and it's maybe five minutes down. Can't miss it."
"Thanks."
Sahra exited the seedy motel (really, Crow?) and turned left. Sahra wasn't really sure what all the stares were about. Sand pattern ponchos were all the rage, and his wicker hat and bandanna combo was cool, thank you very much. Sure, he might have been openly carrying three bigass guns, but it shouldn't have been that big of a deal. These wimps needed to loosen up a little. Living in the lap of luxury.
Narrowly missing walking into a lamppost, Sahra looked down the street towards a real neat light show. Figuring that was Junior's, he had just about reached the door when some guy in a black suit rocketed out of the bar.
"Whew, Deek, just like back home," Sahra joked. "'s worried for a moment that these bars in Vale might be a little classier."
Deek shifted in response, turning an eye on Sahra.
"Nahh, you don't have to worry about me. I wouldn't get involved in a bar fight that soon. I do have some standards, you know," Sahra defended.
Deek looked at him sceptically and turned away.
Entering the now doorless club, Sahra took in the sights. Big glass pillars with light refracting through them, large dance floor, massive selection of liquors, and a bigass brawl that the blonde at the center appeared to be winning.
Dodging another thrown goon (because what else could they be with matching suits like that) Sahra made his way deftly to the bar. Sure, there was no bartender, but he wasn't going to let a little inconvenience like that stop him. If it really came down to it he'd just leave a little lien.
Pouring himself a drink into a glass he assumed was clean and putting faith in the healing magic of aura, Sahra sat at the bar and just watched the brawl in progress. Blondie had some skills, he'd give her that. Why she chose to exercise them on some two-bit goons in a bar was beyond him, but the entertainment was free and he wasn't one to complain.
Sipping his drink and sharing a look with Deek, he watched as a giant of a man walked out with what could only be a rocket launcher of some sort.
"It's about to get fun in here, Deek," he commented before vaulting the bar and peeking over.
Sure enough, he was treated to quite the sight: the rocket fired and exploded in blondie's face. That really just seemed to piss her off, though, so the man charged in after transforming his weapon into a comically large bat.
"Damn, that would've been handy back in Tell," Sahra mused. That damn tribesman just wouldn't talk.
The big guy seemed to be getting his ass kicked, and by a kid, no less. He had started so strong, but now he was just getting beat. Blondie had found her stride, or, more accurately, broken his. The big guy was swinging wildly, blondie countering effectively at every turn.
Then his bat broke, and Sahra laughed. All those fancy shifting weapons were frail, and he took full advantage of that every time he encountered one. Weapons had one purpose, and trying to cram more into them was a recipe for disaster.
Now it was truly a slaughter: without the bat, the big guy was useless. Blondie was really going to town on him as he stumbled backward and shuddered with each hit. In an act of desperation, the guy reached out, and fumbling wildly, tore out a bit of blondie's hair.
That, it seemed, was the wrong thing to do.
Now well and truly apoplectic with rage, blondie launched herself at the big guy and, with one massive haymaker, launched him through the wall and into the street.
"Dayum, blondie, you got a mean right," Sahra cheered lowly. Vaulting the bar again, Sahra made his way through all the broken glass and bodies towards the front door. Spotting blondie as she left with a short girl in a red cloak, Sahra moved to the big guy and nudged him with his foot.
"Hey. Hey, man, you got a paying customer here," he said. The poor bastard was out cold.
Hauling the man back inside, Sahra cast about for some water. Finding a tap, he pulled it out and sprayed the guy full-on in the face.
The guy sputtered awake as Sahra asked, "Hey, man, you good? That was a real nasty hit you took there."
The man glared at Sahra suspiciously. "Who the hell're you?"
Sahra laughed once and flicked some lien at the guy for the drink he'd already had. "A paying customer."
"You gonna go postal too?" the guy asked defensively.
"Naaahh. Just figured you'd want to be awake for when the cops get here," Sahra replied while pouring himself another finger of whiskey. "So what was that about?"
"Why do you care?"
"Well, out in Vacuo, you don't need much of a reason to start shit. I figure it's a little different here, so there must've been some sort of reason. What, did someone cop a feel?"
"She wanted to know something, and didn't like what I had to say," was his answer.
"Damn. Well, maybe things aren't so different after all. Anyways, you seem important, so I figure you're Junior. I was never here and all that jazz. Don't want the cops on me on my first day here, even if I actually didn't do anything this time. Dunno if arrest warrants transfer kingdoms and I don't want to find out," Sahra rambled, finishing the last of the whiskey and tossing another lien card at Junior.
"So long as you don't go nuts too, I'll do whatever you want, buddy," Junior said as he stood.
"Great, great. Anyways, I'll be seeing you," Sahra said. "Real nice place you've got here."
"Not anymore," Junior muttered. Sahra was already near the door, though, and barely caught it as it was.
"Well Deek, an eventful first night in Vale. Wouldn't have it any other way," Sahra commented lightly. "Time to pass the fuck out, now. That bullhead ride is still messing me up something fierce."
The next day came and Sahra was awakened by Deek incessantly tapping his beak on his skull.
"Ah, Darkness, Deek, can't you wait a bit? I know you can open the door yourself," Sahra grumbled.
Catching a glimpse of the clock, Sahra wondered what time exactly he was supposed to be at Beacon. It better not have been sometime in the morning, because he'd have to find his way back to Vacuo if it was.
Damn. I must've been more tired than I thought if I slept that long.
It was currently noon, and Sahra decided that switching time zones was definitely not for him.
"Longitude, latitude...more like...whatever," he mumbled, not really able to find a joke there.
Now, the responsible thing would be to make for the bullhead port posthaste to see what time the airship for Beacon was leaving. The even more responsible thing would've been to check last night, but Sahra was more concerned with getting a drink than being responsible, so he'd just have to settle for doing it today.
Sahra ran a once over on his stuff. Comedy, check. Tragedy, check. Garbage rifle, check. Knife, check. Two fragmentation grenades, check. Four reusable flashbangs ('OW', 'MY EARS', 'MY EYES', and 'EEEEEEEEE' respectively), check. Two smoke grenades, check. Assorted burn rounds in .450 Marlin and 12.7x55, check. Four decoy wallets, check. Zero real wallets, check. Shades so dark he could barely see with them on, check. Deek, check.
"Alright! I think that's everything. Time to see if I'm bound for the lovely sand wastes or not," Sahra announced to his partner while slinging his bag onto his shoulder again. While Sahra would be the first to admit that he was not a very good fit for being a huntsman at all, literally anything was better than the gods-forsaken deserts of Vacuo. Honest.
Out the door of the motel he went, just grateful to have slept in a bed instead of sand. Sure, Vacuo liked to think that they had beds, but they were all liars there. There was only sand in that kingdom. Just...sand. Everywhere. Sahra hated sand.
So he was unbelievably glad to find that Vale was entirely sand-less. Not a bit in sight. It was like a dream come true for him. A confusingly designed dream that vexed him, sure, but a dream nonetheless. He could even forgive the ridiculous amount of people on the streets. Sahra truly wondered what they were all doing. Where were they going? Why were they going there? Where were they coming from? Was it really worth the rush? Did that businessman really have to bump into him like that? All these questions, and no real answers. Sahra supposed it was just one of those cultural things you had to live to understand.
Narrowly avoiding another lamppost(seriously, who puts those in a walkway?) Sahra spotted the airship port. There seemed to still be a rather large one still there, perhaps large enough for something like, say, the Beacon freshman class, so he surmised he wouldn't be returning to Vacuo any time soon.
Sahra almost shed a tear at the thought. Goodbye, Vacuo, you will not be missed. We knew ye too well.
Realizing he had paused while rejoicing at the thought of leaving his home behind entirely, Sahra picked up the pace. There seemed to be people milling about on the port, so he figured it was right about time for him to get there. The number of prospective students was actually pretty surprising. Beacon must have some way of paring it's classes down to size since there was no way they had the capacity for a group like this.
Sahra thought it would be nice if they did, since that would mean there would be a whole lot more huntsmen out there fighting the grimm, and that would mean that there would be a whole lot less grimm for him to fight. Less grimm was a plus in his book.
Wandering his way through the crowd while bumping into as many people as possible, Sahra mused on that fact. People were easy. He understood how they thought, what they were likely to do, and how to fight them effectively. Grimm? Not so much. They might have been mindless animals, but he just didn't get them. They didn't fight with the same patterns people did, nor did they innovate in the same way. Hell, they hardly innovated at all. Only the old ones really thought, and even then, that was little more than superior animal cunning and experience.
Sure, he could stab 'em and beat 'em with the best, but ask him to explain why the Sanus beowolf was different from the Solitas beowolf and he would flounder. That was partially because he had never seen one, and partially because it made no difference to him. They were beowolves: that meant he killed them on sight. Easy.
Having bumped his way to the front of the crowd, Sahra read the sign placed behind the cordon.
"...ID?" he looked at his only friend. "Deek, can you believe this nonsense? I, for one, thought Beacon to be above such discriminatory practices. Honestly, they're not even bothering to consider the fact that I don't have an ID."
Sure would have been nice to know ahead of time, Crow.
With each passing hour, Sahra found Crow becoming more and more of an annoyance. It wasn't what Crow had done, but what he hadn't. He had arranged transport to Vale, but he hadn't told Sahra a damn thing afterward. Again, nothing he'd never dealt with before, but would it really have killed the man to say the few extra words?
Sahra wondered idly if this was supposed to be some sort of test. It fit his preconceived notion of what a huntsman school was like, so he figured that's probably what it was. So, what, he had to figure out how to get up there without any identification? That sounded like a lot of work, and he was on vacation. Work was left at the door.
So Sahra decided to go with a classic that hadn't failed him yet: fake it till you make it. All he had to do was give his name and make a real big fuss when it didn't show up and he would be golden.
Now all he had to do was wait in line.
And wait.
And wait.
And-oh wait nevermind, the line was moving pretty quickly. Time to get cracking on the script-he imagined it would go something like this: "What do you mean my name's not on the list? Look again. Did you spell it right? S-A-H-R-A N-A-I-D. It's real simple. Still nothing? Gods, this is ridiculous. I know I'm supposed to be here. Do you think I flew in from Vacuo all for nothing?"
Nearing the front of the line Sahra ran over the proper inflection in his head. You really had to be careful about how you said it, or it just wouldn't work. It was all about the righteous indignation, the-
"Name, sir?"
Ahah! His cue! Our gallant performer enters stage right(stage left?)! "Sahra Naid. S-A-H-R-A N-A-I-D."
Delivery: perfect.
"Alright. Head on up."
What? No, no, the next line was supposed to be-
"...You can go, sir."
Thoroughly disappointed at not being able to cause a scene, Sahra trudged up the ramp.
"Can you believe this, Deek? I even had it all planned out," he complained under his breath.
Deek ignored him.
Sahra contented himself with staring out the window moodily for the short ride, ignoring the absolutely pitiful attempts at conversation made by the kid sitting next to him. Seriously, who leads a conversation with "that's a nice bird"? What an idiot. This kid was really tying with Crow for 'worst conversationalist' in Sahra's book.
Thank the gods the ride was short, though, otherwise Sahra would have had to engage drastic measures. He didn't think he could stand another long bullhead ride with fuck-all to do.
There was some woman talking, now, and it sounded important, but that was really it: there was no substance. Sahra let the words wash over him. The airship was landing, and as the ramp opened, Sahra lightly stepped aside to avoid a sick blond as he ran off. Stopping in an out-of-the-way spot, Sahra took in Beacon.
It was blinding. As in, actually blinding. He had no idea what those pillars were made of, but they reflected light like nothing else. They were also ostentatious as all get-out, and if he had to be honest, really, really ugly. It was just too clean, too perfect, and too pretty. Sahra may have wished the desert a thousand deaths, but at least the towns there weren't so…clean. The grandeur was rather pretentious to his eye. Sahra supposed it might have been meant as a literal beacon, a shining beacon of hope up on the hill, but to him, it just looked ridiculous.
Then an explosion rudely shook him from his thoughts and he dove for cover, noting that no one else had done the same.
Idiots.
Peering out from behind his pillar to ensure that the school wasn't being bombed, he spotted a familiar short girl with a red cloak on the ground and a lily-white girl doing the same. Shaking his head, Sahra started walking again.
"Can you believe this, Deek? This is supposed to be a combat school. You'd figure the applicants would know how to handle explosives. Sheesh, it's like none of these idiots have ever done demolitions work or something," Sahra said to his partner. "Suppose that just goes to show what city living does to a person."
Sahra, having absolutely no idea where he was going or what he was doing, decided to just follow the crowd. It hadn't led him astray so far, and with the way everyone seemed to be heading for the big ol' center building, he figured it was impossible to get lost. Seriously, who could get lost with a landmark like that? It was big, eye-catching, and visible from damn near everywhere.
So it came as no surprise that Sahra didn't get lost and arrived on time to catch a corner seat in the audience. If he turned his head, he could even see the stage that had no one on it. If there was one thing Sahra hated, it was waiting, and that seemed to be something he was doing a lot of since arriving in Vale. Back in Vacuo there were always jobs to do, places to be, and people to shoot. Life was a constant whirl of motion, beating feet to the next town in his circuit and cleaning up whatever work was there.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sahra caught a man walking up the stage. He was little more than a grey blob to Sahra since he refused to take his eye off the door. Once bitten, twice shy was the saying, and Sahra had had one too many bad experiences with leaving his back to the door.
The man was talking, now, and just like the woman on the airship, it was boooring. Boring and useless. Wasted potential? Sahra's potential was used quite finely in Vacuo, thank you. No direction? He always had a direction: money. Knowledge can only take you so far? Sure, but he already knew that. Didn't need knowledge to kick ass in the desert, just a gun and some fine shootin' techniques. Student center? School-allotted scrolls?
...Okay, that one actually sounded sort of handy. Sahra had never really bothered with a scroll, just memorizing the first map he ran across and carrying all the cash he needed in his pack. Communication? Who needed it? Nobody had ever called him before, so he hadn't seen the need. Nevermind the fact that he didn't have a scroll for anyone to call.
But now, when they were being offered for free(to those who qualified), he was faced with a deal he couldn't refuse. Now if only he knew where the student center was. If only there was someone he could ask that would know the school layout and be able to give accurate directions.
Exiting the auditorium, Sahra cast about for signs or something. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing in the way of signage.
What an oversight. Even the smallest towns in Vacuo have road signs.
Even without a central government Vacuo was beating Vale out in his mind.
An hour and half later Sahra had found the student center. Of course, he knew where it was the whole time, he just wanted to take the scenic route. And take the scenic route he did, seeing more of Beacon's grounds than he had ever wanted to. The stone was still blinding, it was still pretentious, and he still hated it. Sahra almost, almost, found himself wishing for sand instead. At least sand didn't assault his eyes in the same manner.
But the journey was over and he had arrived; it was time to acquire his free scroll. Walking up to the lady at the desk, he said, "Hi! I'm here for the scrolls-for-all program?"
"Okay! I'll be needing your name," was the sweet reply.
" Sahra Naid. S-A-H-R-A N-A-I-D."
"Alright...from Vacuo?"
"Yep."
"Everything checks out. Wait here while I grab it from the back."
Sahra tapped his foot.
"Alright! Here you are," desk-woman said. "Here's the manual, in case you need it."
"Thanks," Sahra said, taking both items and stowing the manual in his bag.
Sahra walked out the door, scroll in hand. It was a cylindrical metal object, and Sahra had no idea what to do with it. First he pulled from the ends, then he pushed them together. Twisting did nothing, and neither did pulling it again, but harder. Jamming his thumbnails into the crack, Sahra pried it apart with remarkable ease, almost dropping it when it opened into a flatscreen.
Turning left back towards the giant building in the center of campus, Sahra typed in his name and initiated the set-up process. Once it was finished, he was left staring at a screen filled with icons. Tapping on the circular one brought him to an almost blank page that just had a bar that said 'search'.
Sahra typed in KOTM and was almost immediately treated to an expansive list of text. Tapping on the first result took him to a page that detailed almost everything there was to know about the band. Apparently they were made up of a bunch of super talented musicians from other bands, and the only really consistent member through all the iterations was their frontman.
Considering the fact that he was the driving force behind the band, that made sense. Wouldn't really be the same without him. No creation ever stayed the same after it's creator left. Projects lost the vision behind them, and you could never really replace the creator. It just wasn't the same. Sahra read further into the page, becoming thoroughly engrossed. Apparently, most of his favorite stuff was off one of the less well-received albums they had released. Sahra didn't really get that. Sure, the hard rock stuff was nice, but it just lacked some undefinable quality that his favorites had. Well, most people were idiots, so he wasn't-
Peck, went Deek.
"Ow! You little shit!" Sahra exclaimed. Looking up to give Deek a piece of his mind, Sahra noticed that he had arrived back at the hall. "You didn't need to do that, Deek. I knew I was here."
Deek looked at him critically.
"Totally knew," he affirmed.
Deek huffed and turned away.
Now taking the time to look around the hall, Sahra noticed that almost everyone seemed to be from Vale and it's surrounding territories. Lily-white girl had to be from Atlas, though, so there was that. No one else from Vacuo, though, which didn't surprise him at all. If anyone in that place wanted to be a huntsman, they went to Shade. If he wanted to, he would have as well.
Sahra sat down against a wall, bag at his back, and tilted his hat forwards.
Now comfortable, he began to wonder. Why the hell had Crow approached him like that? He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man since he was dumped at that motel, and with the way he had talked, Sahra would've figured he was pretty important here. The whole scenario was strange, too. Being asked to go to Beacon when Shade existed was pretty weird, and spoke of a discomforting competition between the academies. Sahra was pretty sure that that sort of thing wasn't normal.
Crow had mentioned that his aura was a lot bigger than normal, but Sahra honestly hadn't noticed. There weren't a whole lot of people out in the sand wastes of Vacuo with unlocked auras, so he hadn't had much to compare himself to. There was, of course, his reputation among those circles, but he figured no combat school would ever want someone like him, even if they were skilled.
The only real reason Sahra could imagine someone approaching him with a scholarship offer was his semblance, but he had been real careful with when, how, and where he used it. Despite the fact that his creations only lasted so long without active maintenance, they had a terrible habit of being discovered at inopportune times by people he really didn't want them to be discovered by. Truthfully, all he really needed in combat was his semblance and his wits, but he had long since learned that using his semblance wantonly brought a sort of attention he really didn't want.
Evidently, however, it had done so anyway. Just goes to show that he could truly never be watchful enough, and no, it wasn't paranoia, since they really were out to get him. This whole scenario proved that.
So now he was at Beacon with no idea as to why the powers that be saw fit to admit him into their school. Sure, he might have walked straight into a massive trap, but if he had? This was the strangest trap he had ever seen.
More importantly, though, Sahra was hungry. He hadn't eaten much all day, and while his lifestyle meant getting used to that, he was in a school. There was no way there wasn't someplace to eat.
He vaguely recalled that guy on the stage mentioning a cafeteria or something, but he hadn't been paying too much attention at the time. Resolving to just pick a person that looked hungry and follow them, he shifted his hat back up and swept his gaze across the room. That girl…nah, she didn't look hungry at all. Hmm, how about the blond who got sick?...no, Sahra didn't really want to follow that guy around. He'd probably get lost.
That girl with the bow, though, she looked like she knew where she was going. She'd been sitting there pretending to read a book for about the last hour, so he was willing to bet she was going to get food. Sahra stood and threw his pack onto his shoulder, Deek shifting at the sudden motion.
Blacky bow-girl was moving at a decent clip, but it was no big deal for Sahra to match her pace. She was taking all sorts of turns, though, and while Beacon's campus may have been a bit oddly laid out, he didn't think it really necessitated such a twisty path.
Almost ten minutes in and Sahra was beginning to doubt whether blacky really knew where she was going or not. Surely it couldn't take this long to get to the canteen?
Then she turned a corner, and when he turned it too, she was gone. Sahra stopped. "Ah, shit, Deek, how the hell am I gonna find the cafeteria now?"
Deek, as usual, didn't answer. Blacky, however, did. "You were following me because you wanted to find the cafeteria?"
"Course. You looked like you knew where you were going," Sahra said obliviously. It made total sense to him. "No need to be such a fraidy-cat."
Blacky narrowed her eyes at him before abruptly turning and walking off. What a weird girl. Suppose I'm on my own now.
This time it only took him about twenty minutes to find what he was looking for. The lack of signs still frustrated him, but wasn't much he could do about it, so he just moved on. If there was one thing wandering around Beacon for an hour and a half had taught him, it was where not to go. He could safely rule out the gardens, the library, the dorms, the auditorium, various classrooms, and the student center. It was just a matter of figuring out where it was from where it wasn't. Simple enough to do.
Now having eaten a balanced dinner of whatever he saw first, Sahra headed back to the auditorium to mess with his scroll some more. He may not have known what time exactly they were supposed to be asleep(or if there even was a specified time), but he figured it was probably sometime after sunset. Thus, there was still time to read up on all the various little tidbits he didn't quite get to on that article.
There were all sorts of things he didn't know about the Kings Of The Modern Age: their first album featured a faunus woman because people had assigned the group's predecessor a certain image that the frontman wanted to shatter. Sahra could get behind that. Each member was involved in all sorts of little side projects that Sahra resolved to check out, and key members had gone on to form another band in the interim between albums that also became incredibly popular. There was a lot he had missed out on by not having a scroll, and Sahra was beginning to see the utility in one. Imagine all the music he had missed just by not having a scroll.
There were a lot more people, now, and they mostly seemed to be filtering in and out of the locker room to change. Sahra snorted at the blond wearing a onesie. Thankfully no one seemed to be all that interested in his little area, which he was pleased with. Sahra was never terribly thrilled at the idea of dealing with kids, and these ones were no different. In Vacuo, you were a kid for all of maybe ten years. Come twelve and you were facing the hardships of life all on your own, family or no. The desert didn't pull any punches and to survive out there you had to understand that.
The people here, though, didn't grow up in that kind of environment. He could see it, in the way they walked, the way they talked, the way no one had moved when that dust explosion went off in the courtyard. Maybe a few of them knew what it was like to look a man in the eye as you drove your blade into his other one, but most didn't. Sahra felt out of place here, like this was somewhere he didn't belong. He wasn't blind to the odd looks being thrown his way, some for Deek, some for his size, some for his attire. The former two were both something he was used to, though. You didn't see someone six and a half feet tall very often, and Deek always got looks no matter where he was.
That was just the way it was: in Vacuo, he could at least blame some of it on his reputation amongst the sand wastes, but out here? No. These people didn't know him in any sense. They didn't know what he'd done, but he could see the judgement on their faces all the same. Sahra curled his lip under his bandanna.
Deek tapped his head.
Not even bothering to dignify his partner with a response, Sahra just sighed. Blacky bow-girl was back to pretending to read, again, and someone was actually approaching her. Sahra watched the sad exchange, noting that it was red-cloak and blondie from the club. He had no idea what their relationship was, but it looked like they were pretty close.
The lights were out, now, and it was dark out. Sahra figured that was as good a reason to sleep as any, so he shifted his pack a little and lowered his hat. Keeping his hands on his revolvers beneath his poncho, Sahra drifted off, ready for the next day.
A/N: Had an idea that wouldn't let me go. Sahra is a lot of fun to write.