A/N: Pls note that I really don't care if phones don't exist in this world. I wrote a lot of lines with word, 'phone', so you have to bear with me. Also, this has swearing in it. Like, full on F-word and S-word. You have been warned. And I might have to change the rating to M.
Full summary: There was an underground group once, filled with people with very, very unnerving backgrounds. Both despised and loved, they were something. They then dismantled, going separate ways, vowing to never return. But of course, some of them were still active. Then, an assassination was attempted. Becoming the main suspects, they must reunite to bring forth the true criminal. Even if they have to go through a bunch of school students. And the authorities as well. (T for cussing and violence)
Chapter 1.2 : Prologue - Iceman, Skygator and Pawsome
It would be of no surprise to say that any job place in the whole wide world would either be rewarding or just plain murderous.
The (in)famous Schnee Dust Company is no exception to the latter. Just either underpaying the employees or forcing them to work overtime without paying them extra.
Their work environment is not that much better. The mental presence around it, anyway. Physically, the sections and offices for the employees to work at are friendly to look and interact with. The problem lies with the employees. They would just constantly go apeshit when having to do work that required a very different type of skills.
And that; is the least worst of the bunch. Go up a few ranks and you'll find people's hands getting shoved into a blender just because they accidentally misplaced some files on the wrong cabinet. Up a few more ranks, people get thrown out the f**king windows. For spilling a bit of water. On an already shit-stained floor.
Yeah, this company's practically Hell...for some of the people, anyway.
For some others, they're actually pretty satisfied with what work they have to do. Nobody knows what's up with these people, since all these ones had done practically nothing wrong in their work. Questioning them had became an ongoing theme, although they never seemed to answer truthfully. Such people...
But yeah...dismissing that, let's cut to the chase, yeah?
Schnee Dust Company, Upper Half Security Office, 1 in the f**king morning...
"You guarding again?"
From inside the security office, a man in security guard uniform looked from his post towards the doorway; a lady with long brown hair, also clothed in security guard uniform, stood there, looking at him.
"Yeah. Third night this week." He said, his voice seemed to be filled with hints of weariness and sleepiness. He also seemed to be rubbing his eyes a lot.
"What are you doing here? You're stuck here or something?" He asked, still having the strength to ask the lady why she was even there. He then sipped a bit of coffee he had on his desk.
"I guess you could say that. I mean, I do guard the lower half of this building."
Hearing the response, the man rubbed his eyes, wanting to get a better look at the lady. He took a closer look at the lady's name tag.
"Chris...tine?"
"Yeah, Dylan. It's me. Christine. I've worked with you for almost-."
"Almost seven months. Yes, I know you. I'm just..."
Dylan then let out a yawn, covering his mouth with a hand.
"...very sleepy. Sorry I didn't recognize you there."
The lady, Christine, just sighed. She had became used to Dylan's attitude of always being the one to be the night guard even when he wasn't supposed to do it. She had made a lot of attempts to try and get him to stop taking the night shift whenever the person that was supposed to be there wasn't able to.
But alas, Dylan had his fair share of being a stubborn son of a bastard. He would refuse her offers most of the time. He knew he could use some help around the facility, but he couldn't really bring himself to bring a work partner into his problems.
So he thought of some sentences to reassure his work partner that he was okay.
"Don't worry about me, yeah? I can do this all day...or night, I guess I should say. I've gotten used to stay up late during my younger days. I'll be fine."
"You better be. The big speech is to be given in like...less than 57 hours."
"...Do you have to really be that specific?" Dylan asked, feeling a bit weirded out by Christine's specificity.
"No. But I sorta have to, y'know? Seeing as you only have around two days to prepare yourself alongside others, I kinda have to make you feel more...pressured."
Dylan sighed. He rubbed his head, ruffling through his blonde hair with one of his hands, feeling a slight bit of irritation and headache creeping into his brain. He had a lot to prepare and think about, but the unknown nature of the 'big speech' had been creeping around in his mind, nagging at him.
"Do you know what the 'big speech' will even be about?"
"I don't know. I just know that we will be leading the security team for it, in case anything goes wrong."
Confusion filled Dylan's head.
"With the lots of us around, what maniac would even try to do anything during the ceremony?"
"Who knows?"
Dylan sighed. Christine stared at him. Dylan had no idea who would try to infiltrate a ceremony when security would be really tight on that day. Christine, noticing Dylan's state, decided to continue.
"But remember; it still doesn't excuse us. And the security team as a whole. We're protecting our employer, whether you like it or not."
As a response, Dylan raised his eyebrows and extended his arms to his sides, as if showing off the environment around him.
"I know. I brought myself into this place, I will have to do my job properly." He stated in a matter-of-fact nature.
"...Good." Christine turned to leave, but one last thought entered her mind.
"And get enough sleep when you get home later." She then left, going back to her post to guard the lower half of the building. By using the elevator, course.
Dylan sat at his desk, returning to watch the monitors that pretty much showed every single corner of the rooms position on the upper half of the building. He never talked about it, but his face said a lot of what was going in his mind.
He was damn bored. Sitting around watching some monitors just to keep out for any intruder. Dylan was never really fond of it. But he still came back because in the end, he still gets paid for it.
'Anything for money...'
Pondering on that one statement, he then thought back to his earlier days, when he worked with a bunch of...really capable people. They were something. Dylan had worked with them for a lot of years, especially after getting dishonorably discharged from the military.
Together, they worked on a lot of contracts; killing, kidnapping or maybe even robbing people. All those years working the crime, Dylan had never realized how much he kinda missed his...partners.
He never really liked doing all those things with them. But you know what they say, "desperate time calls for desperate measure". Yet, he couldn't get the faces of every single one of his partners in crime out of his head.
'Damn it. Really got stuck in me, huh?'
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up paper. He unfolded the picture and pondered on the sight that welcomed him.
In the picture was Dylan, standing alongside various other people from very different backgrounds, if their features were any indication. He let out a small smile. Sure, they could have stuck together for a few more while, but the conditions weren't letting them. He turned the picture around, looking at the back.
Stay alive, Iceman!
Dylan stared at the words written on the back. He had always wondered why Iceman was the nickname given to him. One of the assumptions he always had was due to his seemingly cold-blooded nature. But even then, he would always show a few expressions during his contract missions.
He shrugged, folding the picture and putting it back into his pocket. He then leaned back on his chair, continuing to watch the monitors for the next few hours.
In the back of his mind, however, he kept questioning if there were any other of his partners who were still around and awake at that time.
Gold Bar, around the same time...
For a place called Gold Bar, the quality of the place is quite the opposite...almost. The outside of the bar sported a neon sign that says the name of the bar. Not so bad.
The inside, however, sported a very different type of fancy. The tables are the very standard wooden tables that you would find at a lot of restaurants. The chairs, however, are the type of plastic chairs that you would find at a small roadside food stall.
The walls are dark green and looked very bland. Some parts of the walls had stains on them, which could've come from either drinks or food. The workers tried to clean them, but all they could do was make the stains smell nicer. The stains stayed on the wall, and the customers would occasionally look at them.
Our focus, however, would go to the man behind the counter. The man that pretty much is the owner of that bar. There were no other workers around him, presumably having already gotten to their home.
He was at the counter, wiping it with some clothes and some water that had been mixed with soap. Since he had just recently finished his work for the day, he decided to clean up where ever he needed to. He had a look of uneasiness on his face, mixed with some hidden anger in his dull, yellow eyes. The brown short-sleeved T-shirt he wore had some kind of wet stain on it, presumably from a drink.
"Fucking people..."
After cleaning the counter, he walked out of the counter and went to clean the tables that had been used by most of the customers. He had to make sure they would be clean by the time he ought to have the place opened again.
However, due to his somewhat questionable mentality during that time, he had some...complications.
"Damn it! You just couldn't stop being selfish, you piece! Of! Shit!"
It was a good thing that the place had closed down for the day, as all the time during his afterwork cleaning session, he kept shouting out swears and vile motions towards someone that wasn't even there. He was pretty much just showing himself as a psycho. However, since he kept looking at the object in his sight while he was cleaning, one could then assume he was mad at someone else, presumably to whoever was in his mind at that time.
"Damn it...G..."
He then slowly lowered his head onto the table he was currently cleaning, not caring that the liquid had gotten on his face. His anger seemed to fade away from his eyes, his face then showing off a more sad, solemn face.
He stayed in that position for a while, seemingly stuck in a trance. Whatever the trance he was stuck in, it was causing his body to slow down. His eyelids then started to slowly close, pretty much knowing it himself that he would never get to finish his cleaning session...
RING! RING!
...Until the phone suddenly rang, that was.
"Motherf-!"
The bar owner shot up from his oncoming slumber. He looked around for awhile, his mind was still trying to function again. He then locked onto the phone on the counter. He tried to get out of the chair he was sitting at, but ended up stumbling over it, almost falling face first onto the ground.
"Shit!"
RING! RING!
Luckily, he managed to grab the table and pulled himself up, quickly jogging over to the counter.
RING! RI-
He picked up the phone.
"Hello, Skygator he-"
He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. It looked like whatever that weird name was, he did not favor it a lot.
"...I mean...this is Richard Movers speaking. How can I help you?"
He waited a bit for the whoever called him to respond, hoping for the caller to ignore the fact he just used a weird nickname.
Less than 10 seconds later, he heard a small laugh.
"Man, Rick. I know you miss us, but really dude? Using your codename at work?"
Hearing a female voice coming out from the receiver prompted Richard's brain to then start working its gears. He knew that voice. He just couldn't believe it.
"What the f...Is this fucking Lauren Wallers?"
He heard Lauren laughed again, albeit a bit louder than last time.
"Nice job, son! Yes! It's Pawsome!"
"...I still hate you for keeping that name. And please. Don't call me 'son' ever again."
"Oh, what's wrong with you?"
Jeez, his anger must've been so visible that night, that even a caller could hear it.
"Nothing that concerns you that much. Why are you calling me at like...it's almost two. In the morning."
"I don't know really. Have you heard about some kind of speech being given on Thursday?"
"A speech? What speech?"
"Yeah. Apparently, the head of Schnee Dust Company will give out a speech. I don't know what's the speech will be, exactly. And for some reason, the people started theorizing about what the speech will be about."
"Theorizing? It's a fucking speech. From the head of SDC himself. Why would people...are the majority of those people Faunus?"
"I can't tell, really. Just because I'm one of them, doesn't mean I know what they're all thinking."
Richard sighed in irritation. He didn't even know why he continued to talk to one of his former business partners, knowing he really shouldn't be talking about his past life any more than he wanted to.
"Are you seriously calling me just to tell me this? You do realize I'm not doing this shit any more, yeah?"
"...Yeah. I know. It's just that...Dylan's working at SDC, right?"
"So what?"
"You don't think he's planning anything while he's over there?"
"...It's Dylan. Dylan Winds? The Iceman? You know he can't plan for shit, right? He's just...G's main muscle man."
He found it hard to let the one letter name out. Richard waited a moment for a response. It was not loud, but Richard could hear a bit of sighing coming from the receiver.
"I know, I know. But it's just that the head of SDC himself is going on an open stage to do some kind of ceremony. It's a bit too out in the open."
"If that's your concern, might as well throw it out the window. Dylan, Loomer and Rei can't plan for shit. G and Cera would not try to assassinate a very important person, unless someone pays them to do so, in which, those two siblings are fucked. Shit, hire all of them. Hire all of us. We're dead before the plan I made, if I even make any, can even commence."
There was no response. Silence flowed through the air. Richard waited for Lauren to say anything. Yet, nothing came. He didn't feel like waiting any longer, so he voiced his final thoughts.
"Listen, if you done talking, good night. And go to sleep."
Richard then placed the receiver back on its holder. He stared at his phone for a good 10 seconds before walking away, preparing to leave some of the dirty tables behind in that condition just so he could get some sleep for the next day.
Some apartment in the city...around the time Richard put down the phone...
Lying on her bed, Lauren kept her grip on her scroll. Hearing a particular name to come out of Richard's mouth caused her mind to start flashing back to her old days.
On her scroll, she exited the contact app and opened the gallery that housed a lot of pictures. Most of them were of a group of people, in which Lauren was always one of the people in the group in those pictures. She scrolled through the pictures, letting out either a small smile or maybe a laugh occasionally.
However, her focus would always go to a particular woman with light blonde hair. In one of the pictures, the woman was getting her cheek pressed against Lauren's. The woman seemed forced, yet, her face suggested she was just fine with it. The woman even had one of her hands on Lauren's head, just patting the extra set of ears on her head.
Lauren traced a finger on the woman in the picture. She reached up onto her head, touching her set of bear ears. She then brought her hand back down.
"...CeCe..."
And then, before she knew it, she fell asleep. A smile was plastered on her face as she went into her slumber. The name and the face of CeCe kept playing in her head as she slept, leaving her dreaming a happy dream.
Heh. You're expecting 2DOR? Well too bad!
...I'm very sorry. For making you wait a long time just for me to write down a chapter.
I can't even keep my promise.
Also, let me know if you notice any grammar error or maybe even continuity error. I'm really trying to stay on a line here.
See ya!