I do not own RWBY or make any money from this work of fiction. RWBY is owned by the good people at Roosterteeth.

Chapter 2: To Hell in a Fiery Handbasket

After a few minutes of walking, Ozpin turned a corner to see the Vale General Hospital. About a block away was the 24/7 clinic.

Walking through the door, Ozpin heard the jingle of a bell that almost succeeded in masking a loud clicking noise – the sound of the shotgun under the main counter being cocked. "Don't shoot! I'm a paying customer!" called out Ozpin in a panic, half-hiding behind the door, most of his body still outside the clinic.

"Oh, it's you," said an old, wizened voice behind the counter. "Get in here, you ragamuffin. You're letting the heat in." Cautiously walking around the door, Ozpin took in the small front-office space of the clinic, and what had to be the oldest, most disgruntled crone he had ever seen sitting behind the counter. She had thin, wispy white hair, the largest pair of "wizard glasses" he had ever seen, and wrinkles for days. Add to that that she wore a white medical jacket, barely stood five feet tall, and she reminded Ozpin of those witch's from the fairy tales his parents used to tell him and his sisters before tucking them into bed. All she was missing was her magic broomstick and pointed hat. You could probably replace the wand with that shotgun she keeps under the desk. Probably just as lethal, thought Ozpin, more than a little irritated that she had almost shot him. Again. For the fifth time this month. Considering how often he came in, one would think that she would recognize him on sight.

Sighing, Ozpin walked up to the counter. "Hi, Mrs. Goodwitch. Rough night?"

She snorted, then grumbled, "Bunch of punks should learn some respect for the elderly. I showed 'em!" She nodded to a spot on the wall behind Ozpin. Turning around, he looked at the wall. It was covered in so many buckshot holes that Ozpin couldn't even tell which ones where new or which where old.

Turning back to the nurse, Ozpin said, "I really think you need to have a construction crew come in and rebuild, cause I'm pretty sure that walls going to fall down any day now."

She snorted at that. "Brat, please. That walls been like that for almost a decade now."

Ozpin's eyes widened in surprise and concern. "That's even more reason to repair or rebuild!" said Ozpin, his voice hitching near the end. Cringing at his own squeaky voice, Ozpin thought, Wow. Way to lose some testosterone points. Kinda want those back.

Rolling her eyes, the old hag said, "Whatever, you brat. Anyway, I assume you're here for your sister's medicine?"

"Yeah," said Ozpin, raising his pointer and middle finger in a V-shape. "Double the dose."

That surprised the old crone. "You sure you have that kind of money? Not exactly like you have any medical insurance."

Taking out a 1000 lien worth of credits, Ozpin placed them on the counter. "Yes, please."

Ozpin didn't miss the greed in nurse Goodwitch's eyes as she scooped up the credits and put them in the till. "Two bottles of Mavro, coming right up!" With that, she jumped off her seat and scuttled over to the back, behind counters and shelves of paperwork and medicine.

Ozpin waited patiently while Mrs. Goodwitch grabbed his medicine. Looking around the clinic, he couldn't believe it had been in business for so long, given its condition. Especially given it's condition.

Hearing her huffing and puffing, Ozpin turned back to the counter to see Mrs. Goodwitch, sweaty and out of breath, jump back into her chair and place two white bottles of medication on the counter.

"I swear," she grumbled, "this kingdom has gone to hell ever since the start of this damn war. Gangs, prostitutes, stupid punks thinking they can stroll in here and accost an old lady," she gestured angrily at the bullet-ridden wall. "Hell, even you and your inability to get insurance. This kingdom is fucked."

Ozpin was surprised at her angry tirade. "Can't say I've ever heard you talk about something political. And no offense, not sure I would call you old, especially given how well you can aim that shotgun of yours," he said, pointing to where he knew the shotgun was hidden under her desk. Smiling at her, he continued on. "But thanks for caring. I wish more people did."

With that, Ozpin pocketed his medicine and turned around to make the long trek back home.

XXXXX

Medicine in hand, Ozpin sighed in relief as he pushed the tent flap aside. If his dad had taught him correctly, the position of the moon and the stars told Ozpin that it was almost 5AM, and he was thoroughly exhausted.

Barely able to keep his eyes open, he staggered around in the dark, trying to find his "bed," an old blanket and a stack of cardboard that he used as a pillow.

As he padded around on the floor to find it, a voice called out from the dark. "Ozpin? That you?"

Before he could brace himself, a bright light caught him right in the eyes. When his eyes finally adjusted, he could see Cherise standing in front of him holding their dad's old flashlight. "Hi, sis. Could you not point that in my face? It's hurting my eyes."

"Oh, sorry Ozzy." Pointing the flashlight down, Ozpin could see his blanket on the ground.

But before Ozpin could crawl under the sheets, Cherise knelt down next to him and asked him, "Ozpin, where have you been? You've been gone for hours."

Ozpin cringed. Normally he tried to be home a lot earlier than this, but the card game had dragged on a lot longer than normal and he had wanted to get Cherise and his mother's medicine. He knew they were running low, and walking around in the daylight with people to witness all the money he had accrued this night was a surefire way of getting mugged down the road. Better to go late while no one but the nurse was there.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the bottles of Mavro and handed them over to Cherise. Shocked, she stared at them before looking back up at her brother, and said, "Ozpin, how do you keep paying for these? This medicine is so expensive."

Faking a smile, Ozpin said, "Don't worry about it."

A pensive look came over Cherise's face. "You . . . Ozzy, you haven't been . . . selling yourself, have you?"

Ozpin nearly choked on her question. It was a valid one. What with the lack of a job market, the streets where filled with gigolos and prostitutes at night. Still, he worked and stole to make sure that that did not become the future of his family. Cherise would not survive that kind of lifestyle, and Valentina . . . just the thought of her having to prostitute herself, be that now or in the future, made Ozpin want to throw up his coffee.

Tired, Ozpin said, "No, Cherise, I'm not a prostitute."

Thinking that he was lying to her, Cherise's voice and features where a mix of anger and concern as she said, "Than how could you possibly get the money to pay for the medicine, month after month? And the food. How do you get all that?"

Sighing, Ozpin admitted something that he had really been hoping to keep hidden from his sisters. "I steal, Cherise. I steal and con people out of their money and goods. No matter where I try to go, I can't get a job. So I steal."

Now Cherise was definitely mad. If there was one thing Ozpin knew about his sister was that she was as moral as a nun. She couldn't stand wrongdoing of any kind. The only exception seemed to be fables; stories that she used to teach Valentina life lessons so that she could grow up to be a proper member of society.

"Ozpin–" she began heatedly.

"Cherise," Ozpin interrupted, "I'm exhausted, it's late, and what I do is the lesser of many evils that I could do to stop our family from sinking any lower. Just let me have this, and let me get some sleep. You can lecture me tomorrow when you and I both have the energy for it."

After a few moments of angry silence, Cherise said, "Fine. I'll let you get some rest. But this discussion is not finished!" With that, she turned off the flashlight and went to her own bed, a musty old mattress and a pillow and blanket that she shared with Valentina.

Sighing with exhaustion and resignation, Ozpin crawled under his blanket and pulled his cardboard over to himself to lay his head down.

Without Cherise there to confront him about it, Ozpin couldn't hide his shame. He wished he didn't have to steal. He wished he didn't have to take the livelihoods of others or con them out of their money, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. Life has offered him few other options, and those options are far worse than his current actions. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't. At least this way, I'm the only one who damns themselves. At least, that was the lie he told himself. But he knew better: they were all screwed, and there's no way for him to get his family out of this hellhole they call a home without the rest of his family damning themselves alongside him. And as misdirected as his moral compass had been as of late, he knew his heart wouldn't be able to survive that level of travesty.

XXXXX

Ozpin awoke to the sounds of children playing. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, and brought his arm up to shield his eyes. The sunlight tried to pierce the tarp above him, turning it a lighter shade of blue and slightly see-through.

"Good, you're up."

Ah, crap, thought Ozpin. There was no missing the ire in that voice. It was so cold that one could probably use it to freeze soda in this summer heat.

Sitting up, Ozpin suppressed a yawn as he made eye contact with Cherise. "Morning, sis. Good to see you too."

They stared at each other for a few moments of awkward silence. Finally, Cherise said, "How much money do you have?"

Ozpin blinked in surprise. "What?"

Glaring at him, Cherise said, "You heard me. How much money do you have?"

"Um," muttered Ozpin, checking his pockets. He hadn't bothered taking his clothes off . . . not that he had any other clothes to put on. "I have about a thousand lien in credits."

"Ooooook," said Cherise. "You stole that food yesterday, didn't you?"

Swallowing hard with shame, Ozpin said, "Yes."

Nodding her head, Cherise said, "Then go and repay them."

Blinking, Ozpin said in an oh-so deadpan tone, "What?"

An extremely angry glower morphing her pretty features into an ugly mask, Cherise repeated, "Repay them. You are going to go back to wherever you stole this food, and you are going to pay them back and apologize."

Staring at her in horror, Ozpin said, "Cherise, if I go back I'm going to get arrested."

Letting out an exasperated breath, Cherise growled, "Than buy a pencil and paper in town, write an apology, and place it and the money in a place that the storeowner or stall-owner will find it!" Taking a moment to calm down, Cherise asked, "You do still remember how to write, right?"

Ozpin's cheeks mottled a horrible shade of red as he felt more embarrassment bombard him. The last time he tried to write a message, it had barely been legible. While he remembered his alphabet, his handwriting had always been awful, and he wouldn't be surprised if he forgot how to hold a pencil after so many years.

Hoping the tent was dark enough to hide his blush, Ozpin said, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I remember how to write."

Nodding in content, Cherise said, "Good. Now, before you go out, you should eat breakfast. We still have some leftover bread and apples from the last night."

Sighing in defeat, Ozpin rolled out of bed and began his day, all under the eagle-eyed gaze of his sister.

Munching on another green apple, Ozpin asked, "Hey, where's Val?"

Coming back from checking on their mother, Cherise said, "She and a couple of her friends are playing right behind the tent. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on them and mom while you go run this errand." Why'd she have to place so much emphasis on 'errand?' thought Ozpin.

"I really hate it when you put so much emphasis on words. Seriously, hate it, sis."

Narrowing her eyes in aggravation, Cherise responded with, "Don't you lip off to me! Now, get your butt moving. It's already 4 o'clock. You've slept most of the day away."

Rolling his eyes, Ozpin called, "Yes, mom!" over his shoulder as he made his way to the tent flap.

"Move it!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Geez, kept it hidden that I steal for almost four years. Should have just told her I was a prostitute.

Gah, why's it gotta be so bright? Groaning, Ozpin shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun. Seriously? The sun has to be pointed right at the entrance of the tent? Seriously?

He perked up as he heard the sound of laughter – something that was all too rare in his life as of late. Walking around the back of the tent, he watched as Valentina played tag with her friends Lie Ming, a small oriental girl, and Zia Scarletina, a female rabbit faunus.

Ozpin couldn't help smiling as they played in the dirt. They seemed so innocent and childish, so happy and carefree. Sighing, Ozpin wished that he could go back in time and tell seven-year-old Ozpin to savor his childhood.

He continued to watch as Valentina tackled Ming into the dirt. Smiling as they laughed and played, Ozpin turned around and headed towards the city.

XXXXX

Ozpin licked his lips in nervous anticipation as he eyed the stall owner. He was currently making a sale of fresh produce to a not-so-kind looking woman, who was viciously haggling with him to lower the price on a bag of potatoes. It's now or never, while his back is turned to me.

With his written apology and cost of the bread and apples in hand, Ozpin made a quick beeline for the stall and covertly placed the folded letter, with the credits inside, onto the corner. With that done, Ozpin walked away as calmly as possible, allowing himself to be pushed along by the flow of the crowd. Phew. Well, that wasn't so bad.

That's when the sky started to explode.

P.S. Remember, don't be a hater, but be a CONGRATULATOR! And please leave a review, comment, or positive piece of criticism. Cause honestly, any kind of feedback helps me to understand what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.