AN: Sorry for the wait!
I'm really happy! Finally! I can start the new plot arc! Goodbye introduction arc, goodbye initiation arc, hello plot arc number one.
Happy Father's day!
-October 10, 2281
There are those who seek for proof that man can do more than just destroy, and spend their entire lives searching and finding nothing. One could hardly find worse evidence than settlements in which they search. From the ground up, man builds shelters to protect their family, then communities, for their neighbors, and infrastructure, to ensure everyone's continued existence. Many will decry them as simple survival measures, and see them as selfish yet rational ventures, and while there may be truth in cooperation for survival's sake, it is still difficult to decry their existence as selfishly motivated when they welcome newcomers into their fold.
"Look, I serve meat here! If you want veggie burgers, go to Mistral!"
-Market Vendor from Vacuo
Chapter 7: Orange Colored Sky
"Steak?" Cu asked, looking for a clean shirt in the locker.
"Steaks were my bread and butter for five years," The Courier replied, tying the strings on his left leather boot, welcoming the familiar footwear on his recently freed foot. He smiled at the slightly rough feeling of the leather boot through his long socks beige slacks.
"Phew," Brawnz whistled from the Couriers left, his eyes raising as he placed a recently finished water bottle into the locker. The other boys had already left for either their rooms or the town, leaving only the male members of teams BRNZ and CRML to finish redressing themselves after washing off the sweat that came with the heat from the scorching summer day. Luckily, the sweaty body odor that had flooded the locker room had been replaced with the sterile scent of soap. "How about chicken?"
"They served fried chicken for dinner yesterday," the Courier responded, before rubbing his stomach. "It was delicious."
"Hmm…" Nolan hummed from behind, before snapping his fingers, "Have you ever had a burger?"
"Burger?" The Courier responded, looking up across the aisle.
"You know, a hamburg-" Nolan began again.
"I don't eat pork," the Courier interrupted, a stern look on his face. The others stood still for a minute before turning towards the wastelander with confused expressions on their faces. The Courier quickly figured he should have just lied and said yes, but he truly hated pork.
"By the First!" Cu responded. "Ya' never had a burger?"
"As I said, I don't eat po-" The Courier began.
"It's not actually ham man," Roy interrupted, as he began to take of his shirt, baring his chest to the world. "It's named after some old gastro- gastroentero-food person, Silva Hamburg- who came up with the brilliant idea of placing a patty of cooked ground beef between—preferably toasted, in my opinion—bread buns. The fact that you think it's made from pork...honestly scares me man. It's like-like-I-ugh-erm don't have the words for-"
"A life without burgers is a life not worth living," Cu finished, turning to the Courier. "Honestly, the only thing worse I can think of is if you've never had barbeque."
"Barbeque?" the Courier asked.
"Do ya' say these things just to make me depressed?" Cu responded, a distressed look on his face, the surrounding boys grimacing with him. "Because that's how ya' make me depressed."
"Look, I've truly never had barbecue. Is it good?" Caleb asked, only to be met with silent stares.
"Is it good?" His partner parroted, "Is it good? IS IT GOOD?! Barbecue is the greatest thing to ever be created by man or faunus. It is pure bliss in meaty form! Imagine, if ya' will, the aroma of burning hickory wood, that powerfully sweet scent, captured by the meat placed in such a position it is only cooked by the smoke itself, leaving the outside a fleshy pink like color, and giving the meat a rough texture and a somewhat dry, smoky, soury-sweet taste. The smoky flavor allow for one to experience all of the world's good distilled into a single, delectable chunk of meat."
"Dammit Cu!" Nolan exclaimed, holding his stomach. "You're making me hungry!"
"I'm making me hungry!" Cu responded, gesturing into the air. Turning back to his locker he began to search around, groping his hands for something on the various shelves. "Where's my shirt?"
"If you want I could loan you one of my spare undershirts," the Courier chimed in opening his locker."
"I'm still curious how you managed to change in that small-as-crap locker," Nolan pitched
"I still want to know why you had to in the first place," Brawnz stated bluntly before blinking and giving the Courier a curious glance. "Or why you showered in the corner."
"Sorry, but I'd rather people food stay inside their stomachs," the wastelander responded with a shrug, to which the others responded by simply staring at him. The Courier glanced at each of their faces in rapid succession for about a straight minute. A small drop of either sweat or shower water trickled down the back of his neck as he slowly closed his locker door, throwing the t-shirt to his partner. His partner caught the grey undershirt out of the air without taking his eyes of the wastelander, and continued to stare as he put the shirt on, covering his chest and bandaged stomach. The Courier turned when Brawnz put his hand on the Courier's shoulder.
I'm going to have to answer personal questions aren't I? The wastelander asked himself.
"Hey man, we're here for you," Brawnz said as he began to pat the wastelander on the shoulder.
...What.
"Yeah," Cu spoke up, patting the Courier's other shoulder, and nodding. The Courier blinked at the sudden appearance of his partner next to him when just a moment before he had been across the locker room. "Ya' made it here! It shouldn't matter if ya' have a bit of flab or not. Besides, I can help ya' get abs. I can help ya' get amazin' abs."
"What," the Courier asked flatly.
"Honestly though Caleb, I can't really feel any fat anyway," Cu said as he tapped the Courier's side, "I don't know what you're so worried about."
"What… flab… fat? What?" the Courier asked as his face contorted in confusion.
"You were worried we would make fun of ya' for having a bit o' gut right?" Cu asked. "That's why ya' changed in your locker, right?"
"No…" the Courier said as he lifted his shirt collar slightly down, to which the others gave him a look of surprise. "I have a couple of surgery scars that look rather nasty. I'd rather people not see them."
"Oh that makes more sense," Brawnz said as he nodded his head, before blinking twice. "Wait. Surgery? What kin-"
"Can we see them?" Nolan piped up, to which the Courier responded with a blank stare. Nolan shrugged at the stare before speaking up. "I'm just saying what everybody is thinking."
"No seriously, what kind of sur-" Brawnz started.
"Yeah man!" Roy shouted as he turned around, displaying his abs for the entire world, while causing Brawnz to smack his own face with his palm at his interruption. "Scars are badass! Proudly display your chest to the world like a man!" The Courier could have sworn he heard a girl gasp, and looked around before shrugging.
"I think we're missing the point here, boys," Cu stated.
"Yes," Brawnz said, looking to the ceiling, while making a gesture of gratitude. "Thank You! Now, Caleb, Wh-"
"Caleb has never had barbecue in his entire life," Cu practically shouted, as he pointed at his partner. "This is a travesty that must be undone!"
"You know," Nolan said, "Cu, you are absolutely right!"
"...You know what, screw you guys," Brawnz said in a disappointed tone, as his question was derailed again, and the other three boys besides himself and the Courier began discussing food again. He closed his locker swiftly, causing a clang that overwhelmed the conversation that had begun between the other boys in the locker room for a second before they picked it back up.
"Sorry?" The Courier half asked, looking at his exasperated friend, only to receive a deadpan stare in response, along with a sigh.
"Not you," Brawnz replied plainly as he pinched his nose. "But, how… never mind," Brawnz finished before gesturing his hand, the little and ring fingers clenched, back and forth. The Courier could easily see the frustration the young leader expressed through body language, and empathized with the youth, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"-Then it's decided," Nolan exclaimed, catching the two leaders' attention. "Porky's for lunch tomorrow, and then we hit up the town!"
"Shouldn't decisions like that be left to us leaders?" Brawnz asked with a deadpan expression, the left corner of his lips scrunched and his eyes half lidded.
"Do you have a problem with go-" Roy began, with a worried expression.
"No, I also think Caleb needs to try barbecue," He interrupted with a smug grin.
"You shouldn't interrupt people," Nolan spoke up, missing Brawnz's scowl, eye twitch, and gurgling. The Courier winced, as if he heard a scream of pure fury and bloodlust.
"They...uh, serve things other than pork right?" the Courier asked as he felt his eyebrows scrunch in a concerned expression.
"Yeah but," Nolan said, "What's your beef with pork anyway?"
"That was bad," Cu chimed in, while also sporting a grin.
"I don't want to talk about it," The Courier replied darkly while looking down. The others traded glances, and shrugged at their friend's sudden sullenness. A brief minute of silence filled the room, and only the occasional cough broke the awkwardness. Standing up the Courier made to leave.
"So, uh," Brawnz piped up, "I guess we'll meet at the train station at around… ten… ish?"
"Sounds like a plan," piped up Cu, before standing up with a grunt, and grabbing his crutches again. "But all that talk about lunch's making me hungry. Whaddya say Caleb? Get some grub?"
The Courier simply nodded as he opened the doors to the myriad hallways that made up the academy, and began to walk out, only to halt when he heard a faint cry of "no" from one of the lockers. Turning around he watched as Brawnz approached one of the lockers, whose door was slightly ajar and opened it. There was a terse silence as the five boys stared at the girl who was burying herself further into the locker, and whose blush was beginning to match her hair. There was a terse silence as Brawnz closed the locker door, and the other boys began to put on their clothes.
"We should go," Brawnz said flatly.
"Yeeeaaah," the Courier slurred before leaving the locker room which had begun to be filled with the sounds of whispered "no's", followed by the others who were expressing varying degrees of unease.
Except for Roy, who had to be dragged out by his shoulder by Brawnz.
Caleb: ERROR CODE: 4011 0m North
Cu Rain: 113/ 100% 0.42 34.56 South-West
Kumiho Myeong: 147/ 92% 1.83m 50.43 North-East
Lili Lauren: 87/ 100% 1.92m 45.01 North-East
The Courier squinted at the screen of his scroll, an old, heavily-used model from what his teammates described as a well-known electronics manufacturing corporation known as Aikon. It's fixed-place touchscreen-unlike the holographic models most of his peers tended to use-had splotches of concentrated scratches that slightly fogged up parts of the screen, and a couple of scrap patches had been bolted to the back of the device as if it were some worn pair of Ranger's jeans. It used to take at least a minute to boot up, and the interface still left many things to be desired.
But let it never be said the Courier didn't love a fixer-upper.
He fell for it's almost immediately, partly for the fact it dented the floor when it accidentally fell from the headmaster's table, but mostly because he saw character in its worn nature. Then the Headmaster told him its previous owner, a huntress by the name of Scarlett Rayne, used it for twelve years and that a good portion of the wear and tear on its screen originated from bullets that hit it while it briefly sat in a beowolf's stomach. He spent much of his free time tuning up the aged scroll, as well as upgrading its somewhat dated hardware with more recent, formerly broken parts he obtained from the electronics professor. When he found the motherboard barely functioning with most of its parts rusted, broken, or on the verge of both, he whistled in admiration for the fact the device worked at all. The Random Access Memory took little time to replace, though the modifications made to the board to allow it to utilize newer and larger chips took at least two hours of nonstop soldering to fully integrate. The processor took both the Courier and the electronics professor by surprise at its lack of age compared to the some other parts of the scroll, with a date marking it having been produced only three years before the products opening. The two figure Scarlett upgraded most of the parts, including the motherboard itself, over its time in her hand.
Still, the aged motherboard itself took the longest time as it took him a few hours to understand how the tiny chips called "Integrated Circuits" worked, as well as an hour to get over the fact the tech itself had so many tiny transistors, when he only had such experience finding such component's larger parents in only the most recent and prototyped Pre-War Government-or Enclave- tech he could find. At least until he met the Think Tank. Of course, he adapted, as any living wastelander would, to the situation, though in an... odder... manner than most.
The electronics professor wrongly informed Doctor Calendula that the young man expressed a perverse desire to copulate with a circuit board.
There is nothing wrong with admiring technology the Courier insisted to himself, as he sat on the bench outside of the Campus's small train station. A somewhat small number of students waited around for their ride to the city, the BBQ lunch group just a small part of them. I rarely got to see transistor based tech before Big Mountain. Most of that tech was Enclave, and only the NCR Higher Ups and OSI scientists get to examine with such rare tech. So what if I get a little excited over the concept of miniaturized, functional circuits and transistors? I'm allowed to have hobbies!
After clearing up the misunderstanding, and befriending his accuser, the two met regularly throughout the week to fix up the old device. By the weekend the two finished the job and watched as the device began to work at a speed only slightly behind that of the more modern hardware. As the user interface became usable, the Courier began experimenting and playing around with the device, unlocking and attempting to understand the various functions of the device. It didn't take him long to connect it with his teammate's more modern-with the exception of Cu's-models, and he currently found himself attempting to get more information about his teammates through his device. He only managed to receive information on their names some biological information and data relevant to battle such as aura levels and location. He didn't count the pictures appearing next to the graphical bar over each of their names, as those had been inputted manually rather than automatically like the other data.
Oddly though, the device seemed to only show his aura levels sporadically, and never for long. He'd get a brief glimpse into what should be a welcome defense measure in his life, but with error codes filling the place of the percentage left of his maximum level. Apparently not even the device designed to measure it could tell how much or little he could manifest if he finally reached his limit. At least according to Doctor Calendula, whom he visited throughout the week, he made progress in terms of his… issues, according to the two point increase in his aura level she said occurred when he visited after dinner. Looking at the high numbers which represented the aura levels of his teammates made him feel rather overwhelmed, when his aura level only showed a red number nine when the device deigned to show him how he actually stacked up.
He swiped the information on his team aside to play around with the other functions of the device, bringing up the main menu of the device's graphical user interface. Having spent the greater part of his life using either mechanical interfaces or text based ones, he still found himself perplexed on the inner mechanics of the icon based interface. The closest he ever came to it in the wasteland would be the Pip-Boy he wore on his wrist, and it's somewhat easy to understand menus. Navigating the newer system took him a bit longer as he tended to look for switches on the side whenever he took a break from learning it.
The distinct click-clacking of the train filled the air with noise, alerting the various students to the approaching train. Looking up, the Courier watched as the various students started chattering about excitedly, including his own team. Some of the girls were dragging other guys or girls by their hands to the yellow line which designated the edge to which the people could wait for the train, trying to get ahead of the crowd attempting to ride the train to Vacuo. Standing up, the Courier stretched, raising his right arm into the air and grabbing it with this left hand. Grunting, and cracking his neck, he stalked towards the line where the others waited, taking in the various sweaty vapors that mixed in with the dirty, rocky scent of the desert air. It took a good five minutes for all of the passengers to disembark and for the waiting students to get on, the Courier boarding in last so he could take up a seat without feeling guilty. Plopping down next to Lili, he leaned back, looking at the ceiling of the train as the doors closed and the train rumbled into motion.
Closing his eyes, the Courier rested as the train sped along the tracks towards the large desert city, letting the gentle swaying of the train as it moved lull him into relaxing. He had to be nudged into alertness, once the train reached the city, due to having bursts of sleep throughout the trip. Dragging himself out of the somewhat comfy seat he yawned as he followed his group out of the train.
The windy, open-air train station seemed far more crowded than when he first arrived into Vacuo, especially with how the sweaty stench that had permeated the air seemed much stronger. He followed the group, navigating the crowd with a practiced ease, spouting off a quick apology to whoever he accidently rubbed against when he couldn't pass otherwise. It took what felt like an eternity to the quiet wastelander to make it through the sea of people attempting to take trains to who knows where, feeling like exiting an abandoned vault after hours of exploring its nooks and crannies back out to the fresher, less cramped wasteland when they all finally stepped out onto the sidewalk next to the road. The harsh desert sun beat down on the group as a whole, and the Courier felt the heat against the little skin he showed underneath the duster Ulysses had given to him. Opening his eyes after the brief second of blindness, the young wastelander found himself staring at a wide grey-asphalt road, filled to the brim with...cars… innumerable cars.
Suddenly the young wastelander wished he never left the Academy.
The Courier gulped silently under the myriad honks, hoping that a crash wouldn't happen and thus sending the entire street into a long series of chained explosions. Towns banned them from their premises for a good reason after all, no one desires for their streets to be flooded with fire and fast-flying scrap metal. Stepping carefully towards his group all the while keeping an eye on the road, just in case some idiot didn't know how to control their steel deathtrap properly, he listened into the conversation.
"-New Rackgon the Barbarian Comic Book today," Kumiho said, catching the Courier's attention, and distracting him from the horrible screeching explosions-waiting-to-happen. "I'll be busy with that, not to mention Lili said she wanted to try that All-Day Atlesian breakfast thing they're doing at Waffle Warehouse."
"Huh," Roy Stated, placing a hand on his white slacks. "Didn't peg you as a breakfast person, Lil."
Lili nodded her head somewhat excitedly, a rare overjoyed open mouth smile plastered on her face expressing her joy at the prospect of her favorite meal. The Courier found it odd as she never got this excited before, and he felt once again an old and odd feeling of happiness, he only felt once before during travels with ED-E after Hoover Dam. When he noticed Nolan turning away and clutching his chest while sporting a grin, he figured he wasn't alone in the feeling.
"W-well, enjoy your breakfast lunch thing," Roy said while turning his head sideways, his eyes wide in shock, and his right hand clutching his heart. "I'd say it's time to go, right guys? There's a bus stop nearby."
Oh no, the Courier thought to himself while clenching his eyes shut. Please no.
To his dawning horror, Finagle decided to take a nice, long one right all over the Courier's life, as he usually does, as one of the devil's death traps called "the bus" decided to drive up right next to a small, plastic walled shelter just about a half dozen meters from the group. The rest of the group, sans Kumiho and Lili, reacted quickly and began walking, or limping in the case of Cu Rain, quickly towards the stop, leaving the somewhat shaken wastelander behind. Steeling himself for what might possibly be a fiery, explosive, painful demise he stepped forward towards the metal death trap, his nervous swallow hidden by his beloved and ever-present silk cowboy scarf.
The first thing he noticed about the bus was the cool breeze due to the differences in temperature between the hot summer day, and the cool, air conditioned inside of the bus. Stepping up the short steps at the front, he noticed his friends placing several coins of theirs or bills into a box marked "Bus Fare", or in the case of Nolan, flashing some card that none of the others seemed to have. After looking at the price marked up above the box, the Courier pulled out one of the bills Headmaster Lyons gave him after the young wastelander had forced him to accept a tiny chunk of the broken gold bar the Courier carried. He rationalized it by telling him he'd rather trade with him than some bank he didn't know.
It had the number five in the upper right, and bottom left corners, and the face of some old man on the front. Handing it over the bus driver, a middle aged man in a darkly tanned uniform, looked for a second before pushing it back towards the Courier. He opened his mouth to speak, before the young wastelander interrupted him.
"Sorry, don't have any smaller bills. Just," the Courier said, blinking in thought, "I guess just, use it to pay for someone else's fare or something. Just… please don't crash the bus."
The driver smiled and chuckled, as if the Courier's worried plea was some halfhearted attempt to be sarcastic. The driver seemed to take it well, judging by his long bout of chuckling before pointing towards the seats. The Courier started making his way before noticing Cu Rain happily- as judged by his wide smile, jumpy leg, and open eyes-sitting on the on one of the front row seats. The rest of the group had found seats near the back, and the young wastelander briefly wondered why his partner sat all the way up at the front, before coming to the obvious realization.
"Clever, Cu," the Courier said as he took the seat next to his partner. His partner simply gave him a confused look, to which the young wastelander simply studied for a second before hitting his forehead with his fingers and making an "Oh" sound. "Sitting in the front seat… You can get out quicker during an emergency." As the Bus started moving, the Courier grabbed onto the bar in front of the seat, trying his best not to hyperventilate. His partner chuckled a bit at the Courier's statement, as well as his grabbing of the bars.
"Aw, nah bud," Cu began, before calming his laugh down, so that he only sported a massive grin. "I'm just happy I can sit at the front of the bus for once!" The Courier heard a couple eavesdroppers audibly gag at Cu's rather enthusiastic statement, including the driver.
"Don't sit at the front too much? Are busses that cramped usually?" The Courier asked.
"Nah," Cu Said good naturedly, with a wide smile on his face. "Let's just say I used to live in a nasty place, leave it at that. I'm really glad to be here in Vacuo."
Great, that's just perfect. One of the admirable bits of history never happened here. And no Nuclear Apocalypse to make people have more pressing matters either, the Courier thought with a single, dry chuckle.
"Sorry you had to go through that," he said.
"Eh," Cu shrugged out, "Not your fault. 'Sides, you've been nothing but a damn good friend. Ya' couldn't do anything bette… well… actually…"
"What?" the Courier asked, wondering what his partner needed from him.
"Once I get this cast off," Cu said while flashing a somewhat bloodthirsty grin at his partner, "I wanna fight ya'. See those grimm killin' skills for myself."
"Sure," the Courier said, putting his hand out towards his partner, who grabbed it and grinned that signature toothy grin of his.
After the conversation finished, they both sat back against the seat, the young wastelander closing his eyes in an attempt to get his mind off of the fact that despite the driver's skill, the bus might just well explode. Unable to focus on the darkness appearing in front of him, the Courier sighed and began to look around for something to distract him from the fact he sat in a large, highly explosive deathtrap. Then he heard the "harrumph" that only came from the oldest members of society, and only when they found something frustrating. Looking to the seat one row behind him and across the aisle, and pointedly ignoring the attempts of the slightly older women in the seat across from him to grab his "attention", he found himself staring at some slightly balding old man angrily setting down a newspaper. Looking at newspaper for a second the Courier spoke up.
"Excuse me sir?"
The old man turned around, and looked at the Courier, allowing for the young wastelander to see two rising triangular strips of scales rising from his neck to his ears, as if he grew scales instead of hair where his sideburns would be. The Old man stared at him with reptilian eyes for a moment, before taking on a shocked expression.
"Would you mind if I borrowed that paper for a bit? Sorry," the Courier finished, continuing to look in the faunus's yellow eyes. The old faunus adopted a happy, slightly toothy smile, and chuckled warmly, as if he had been speaking with an old friend he hadn't seen in years. His reptilian eyes widened in happiness, and looked as if they came from a man sixty years younger.
"Of course!" The faunus shouted jovially in a gravelly, baritone voice, before chuckling. "Don't even need to ask Thom! What's mine is yours, buddy!"
"Thom? I … I think you've gotten the wrong person," the Courier said, memories of his first Lily coming back with every word from the elderly reptilian faunus. He stared back at the Courier for a second and blinked a few times. The smile fell slightly from his face at the revelation, and, even though they remained in that state of youthfulness, his eyes became regretful and filled with sorrow.
"Sorry… Never mind," The Courier said, looking back before he felt the newspaper through the bandages around his right arm. Looking back the old faunus was giving him a tired smile while holding out the newspaper.
"It's fine son," he said, before sighing. "Paper's just nothing but bad news anyways. Always something wrong in society. As if everyone didn't know already."
"Hmm," the Courier hummed as he nodded his head, gently grabbing the paper from the old faunus's hand. He nodded his head once again in thanks before turning towards the driver's seat in front of his and Cu's seat. He heard the old faunus sigh and adjust in his seat, and waited a moment before looking over the newspaper.
Vale: Torchwick's Dust Robberies Threatening Long Term Economic Stability- Pale Abbott.
Vale Council Reaffirm Claims: Torchwick's Spree Will Not Affect Vytal Festival Functions-Rose Elysium
Grimm Activity on the Rise-Effects of White Fang Terrorism- Dillon Greene
Racial Tensions Highest Since Faunus Rights Revolution, Says Doctor Dufresne, Mistralian National University of Science and Medicine- Dillon Greene
Faunus of Vacuo: Police Not Doing Enough About Kidnappings- Zander Swart
The Courier blinked a few times as he stared at the last headline, noting the stark contrast with the other issues. Everywhere he looked on the paper, there were reports of the various problems that affected the four kingdoms of Remnant, most of which reminded the young wastelander of the varied issues the NCR faced on the home front. People in cities and other stable environments faced more complex and less personally life threatening issues than those living in the wastes itself. However, while wastelanders and the military forces of the NCR faced off against raiders, thieves, and the wretches known as slavers, including the much vilified Caesar's Legion, all of whose threats were physical and observable, the home front dealt with the subtle, the insidious, the slow-burning issues which could destroy the nation if left alone. How could a nation fight off those threatening it if it could not afford the guns to arm its defenders?
The Courier learned early in his life, shortly after the end of his early childhood, that different issues always called for different solutions, and that it took anyone and everyone working together as one people, but on different issues at different times and places to keep society running as properly as possible. Some people solved economic issues at the same rate a Ranger solved an issue involving a slaver band, and some people solved political issues at an even faster rate, with unequaled diplomatic expertise. The young wastelander discovered quickly after beginning his career as a package courier that he belonged to a rare group of people called to fix issues which normally took a multitude of various people to solve, something which the NCR thanked the heavens for. While he normally found himself dealing with the issues faced by people living on the frontier, rarely ever getting involved in the political machinations of faceless old men in suits arguing over how to fix the economy, after tracking Benny down he found himself dealing with more subtle and nuanced issues which took more than firing a gun to fix. Though those dealt more with conflict de-escalation and diplomacy, rather than economic revival or eliminating racial tension.
Which is why he stared at the keyword of the last headline: "Kidnappings". Theft harmed people financially, and in many cases in the wastes, physically, but loss of property was much less horrible than a kidnapping. A robber pointing a gun at someone to steal their dust will leave after being handed the dust, a kidnapper hurts people regardless of whether or not their victim gives them something. The Courier scanned the article, looking for any outstanding details, as his interest in the situation overcame his nervousness of riding the deathtrap. Reaching the end of the front page portion of the article quickly, he flipped the pages until he came to the main meat of the article.
Okay, let's see ..blah, blah, It's been occurring… all over the city? And for… the past two months? No mention of ransoms, meaning money might not be the prime motivation… That doesn't bode well. Alright… the Vacuoan police commissioner claims the force is working round the clock, good. Criminal Psychologist says missing faunus might have run off to join the White Fang. The Courier paused in his train of thought and looked up away from the paper, taking on a thoughtful expression. White Fang? The Jack London book?… No. Wait. Professor Laurel talked about them. Weren't they? Yeah… the long standing civil rights group, used to be respectable, used to mean something, but went terrorist around three- three and a half years ago. They became faunus supremacists, like the NMA out west, just... with a hatred for humans instead of ghouls and super mutants. That implies most if not all of the missing people are faunus. Oh right… the title… Hmm... no human victims mentioned… Some middle class though, out partying late at night. Victims aren't just poor, though poor are likely the primary victims. Hmm… might be a combination, some faunus running off to join White Fang and the rest being kidnapped. Probably the most likely scenario, actually. But-
The Courier's thoughts came to a halt when he heard footsteps approaching from behind his seat. Looking to the right, he found himself staring at the approaching Brawnz, who stared at him with a serious expression as he moved to leave the bus. After pointing towards the Courier's left, he exited the bus as the young wastelander turned around. Cu's head leaned against the window, and snored came out of his mouth alongside a small trail of drool leaking from his mouth. Nudging him in the shoulder, the Courier woke up his partner.
"No! I'm not a flail!" he shouted as he bolted straight upright, breathing heavily. He continued breathing for a second before realizing exactly where he sat. Looking towards the Courier, he gave a pleading look that said "Please don't mention what just happened." Nodding in understanding the young wastelander stood up and gestured towards the door. Stopping in the middle of the aisle, the Courier placed the newspaper on the seat next to the old reptile faunus, whose snores overtook several conversations near the back of the bus. It took little time for the two to join their friends in front of the bus, what with the Courier fighting off his temptation to kiss the sidewalk, and Cu simply desiring to keep up with the others. The bus took off soon after a few seconds, to the young courier's relief, and the four boys began to follow Nolan towards the destination.
Finally used to the long deathtrap strips that ran through the cities, the Courier found himself staring at the various concrete buildings in awe, feeling that Frost told him nothing but the truth back on the airship. Like Vale's concrete jungle, the buildings rose high up into the sky, as if attempting to succeed where Icarus failed. Unlike the buildings of Vale, whose unusual architecture reminded the wastelander of some of the cities he had seen in the various fantasy stories he had read during his long travels, the buildings in Vacuo appeared to be similar to the old dilapidated buildings he had seen during his years in the Boneyard. However, like any city, the architecture seemed mixed in places, and the borders between the old and new stood out clearly due to the differences in building material. In the distance, oddly shaped skyscrapers, with sides angled towards the tip, creating a triangular rather than a blocky shape, towered over the city which surrounded them.
The Courier continued staring as he walked, only glancing down whenever he inevitably bumped into someone on the crowded sidewalk. He only stopped completely when the four arrived at the actual restaurant. The restaurant, like the surrounding buildings, was composed of brickwork, with windows facing out towards the road. Above the restaurant's doors sat a large sign which read "Porky's Barbecue", a picture of an almost naked pig in a blue suit and red tie giving a show tunes gesture next to the name. The boys walked through the doors, meeting a smoky sweet smell as they entered.
The Courier held in his vomit, placing a hand to his mouth and grimacing. He recognized one of the various odors which flowed throughout the wood walled restaurant, an unwelcome and unwholesome, in his own opinion, odor which he knew would give him a wholly unique and disgusting nightmare when he slept again. While normally the wastelander welcomed any changes to the usual horrors he observed in his sleep, even if he traded them for something many might consider equivalent in wretchedness, he considered the coming nightmare that his mind already began to play the sole exception. The scent of smoked pork drowned all of the other, more pleasant, scents in the restaurant, and the young wastelander sighed.
What happened before isn't happening again he kept telling himself that repeatedly as his friends found, and dragged him to, a table, and his stupor only broke when Cu tapped his shoulder to let him know the waiter needed to take his drink order. Like any sane wastelander, the Courier ordered water, and subsequently temporarily lost said sanity when Nolan revealed the water costed nothing. He blinked a few times after the revelation, and stared straight ahead. Several minutes passed before the young wastelander returned to reality due to the waiter asking for his order. He looked briefly at the menu and chose the first thing that didn't involve the rotten pig-flesh he smelled all around him, "Beef Brisket".
In an attempt to ignore the overwhelming nightmarish odor, the Courier began to recollect the information he learned from the article. The wastelander long ago adopted the practice of repeating known details about any problem he found himself dealing with ad nauseam in order to either properly understand the full extent of the issue, or to figure out details that he missed when first examining the details. As nothing else normally occurred on his long walks through the wasteland aside from the occasional fights and legion assassin squads, he often found himself making odd decisions that, despite seeing results, others might call the signs of a madman.
The oddest, of course, being his utilization of No-Bark Noonan's … unique observations of the world to understand the culprits behind the issues which used to plague the town of Novac. Of course, he didn't willingly seek out No-Bark for his advice until his unwarranted theory about the invisible, two-headed chupacabra armed with an automatic blunderbuss turned out to be half true. It didn't take a genius to figure out the insane man observed more accurately than the rest of the town, and the Courier's subsequent conversation helped bring "wasteland justice" to e\the wretch who sold Carla Boone to the Legion.
After the successes resulting from listening to the advice of a half-crazy, radscorpion sting-addled homeless man, the Courier promised himself to always take seriously the observations and accounts of the homeless, the insane, and those who found themselves in both categories. On two separate occasions, such observations saved entire towns from being decimated by the legion. Because of his positive experiences dealing with such individuals, he placed consulting a member of the city's likely vast homeless population at the top of his mental priority list.
"-Which is why the X-Ray and Vav movie is going to bomb harder than propane tank of fire-dust" Nolan finished, causing the Courier to turn his attention away from his own thoughts.
"I'm still gonna see it," Roy stated, an annoyed look on his face. "At least if it's bad I can laugh at it."
"But, you'd still be paying twenty lien to see a bad film," Cu chimed in, "Would ya really waste twenty lien just to sit through two hours of garbage?"
"Yes!" Roy exclaimed. "Because a bad movie can be even more entertaining than a good one!"
"Look," Brawnz said with a sigh, closing his eyes and pitting his hand on his head, 'If Roy wants to waste his money on pointless crap-"
"Hey!"
"That's his business," Brawnz finished. "If he's old enough to realize that changing his underwear every day is good for him, he's old enough to make financial decisions."
"Brawnz," Nolan chimed in, "You know as well as I do Roy's worn the same pair of pants for four days. What makes you think-"
"Hey! Not in front of the others, you dick!" Roy interrupted. The Courier blinked a few times, and wondered why anyone might find good hygiene embarrassing. Sitting back in his chair he began to ignore the incessant bickering which occurred almost without fail whenever Nolan and Roy occupied the same space for more than half a minute. He leaned quickly that mediating and ending the argument only paved the way for a completely different, unrelated argument. While one might end their argument on whether or not some brand of chocolate hazelnut spread is better than peanut butter-which Cu inadvertently lengthened by two days when he joined in, despite being warned multiple times not to encourage them-but they'd quickly, and almost violently, switch to another completely insipid argument, such as which flavor of Schnee Family Fruit Soda tasted the best.
Their argument over which component of the female anatomy reigned supreme nearly caused a civil war amongst the heterosexual male population- as well as some of the more perverted members of the bisexual and homosexual female population-of the school. Sadly, not even Brawnz, the only bastion of sanity on team BRNZ-Lili had caught May using her scope to peek on boys changing in their rooms on three separate occasions-remained neutral, and joined Roy's side.
It was truly the darkest Thursday the Courier had ever witnessed. He truly worried whether or not the school would last a month, let alone a semester, if it could barely survive the first week.
The argument only ceased when the food finally managed to arrive. After a quick trip to the washroom, the Courier picked up the pink bordered meat, sandwiched between two garlic-scented, butter-soaked pieces of toasted bread. Ignoring the strips of fires on the side, the Courier took a large bite of the sandwich.
Cu had been completely and utterly wrong about barbecue.
It was all the glory of the heavens themselves condensed into sandwich form, as if the gods of all religions blessed the sandwich. The Courier barely managed to hold back a moan of pleasure as the meat melted in his mouth. It came apart into strips as he continued to chew, creating a euphoric pleasure to top off the mountain of smoky flavor that assaulted his tongue as a Ranger would a Recruit Legionary. He continued until he swallowed reflexively, nearly shedding a tear as it left only a slightly sweet aftertaste. Placing the sandwich on the plat the young wastelander slouched over the table, covering his eyes with his bandaged right hand, as he began to choke up.
It took him a minute before he continued to eat, and all of his willpower went into not devouring the delicious sandwich whole. He savored every bite, as if he were chewing the last bit of edible food in remnant. A quarter hour passed before he ate the last bite of the sandwich, the fries having gone to stall his appetite from finishing the main entree too quickly. Sitting back, he relaxed completely for the first time in weeks, the food giving him a sense of near comatose levels of tiredness that nonetheless felt euphoric. Looking towards the others, he found they appeared the same, stuck in a state of enjoyable laziness, with yawning mouths and tired looking eyes.
"Was it good?" Cu asked lazily, barely rising from his food induced stupor.
"The best I've ever had," the Courier replied. The five students remained stuck in their stupor until their bills had been placed. It didn't take long for the boys to find their wallets, and after receiving their receipts they left the table, leaving a generous pile of lien in the middle of the table as they began to leave.
The sun blinded the boys as they left, and they shielded their eyes as they walked out onto the sidewalk. The sun barely changed position since they entered, indicating the long day that awaited them. Brawnz turned around to face the group, sighing in pleasure before speaking.
"Ah~! The day's still young," he said, "Why don't we go meet with the girls at the comic shop. See if anything interesting pops out."
"I'm game," Roy said, nodding his head.
"Actually," The Courier chimed in, grabbing the others' attention. "I have a something I need to do before anything else." The other boys simply looked at him for a moment in confusion.
"Oh?" Cu spoke up, "Need any help?"
"Nah," the Courier said, before adopting an apologetic grimace. "It's something I need to do alone… sorry."
"Oh," Cu said, with a twinge of sadness in his voice, as he nodded in understanding. "Alright, I guess we can hang out later or something."
"Fine by me," the Courier replied, "I'll see you guys later… Just… it might be tomorrow when I get back.
"Tomorrow?" Brawnz questioned.
"Its fine," the Courier reassured, "I'll be alright. I promise." His friends simply stared at him for a half minute before shrugging and sighing.
"If you say so," Brawnz reluctantly stated. "See you later man."
Heading in opposite directions the group split, with the Courier heading out towards the edge of the city, while the rest of the boys began walking towards the comic shop Kumiho mentioned. As the Courier continued towards the edge of the city, the smells of the city began to dilute as the number of cars began to decrease, to the young wastelander's satisfaction. Instead the air began to take on the quality of that of Freeside, giving hint to a seedy lack of polish that defined most of the towns the young courier passed through.
Smiling, he began his search.
"Eaaauh," moaned the thin clothed vagrant, a multitude of thicker clothes at his side for when the cold desert nights began. "Sorry, I haven't seen nothing like what you're talkin' 'bout mister. Maybe the others might've'. Try askin' them."
The Courier sighed, before handing a five lien bill to the old looking man. The man thanked the youth heartily as he began walking further into the somewhat cleaned alleyway that the man and his fellow vagabonds called their home. The alleyway split two long-abandoned three story shops, one which apparently sold flowers when it still operated, judging by the faded mural alongside the front of the brickwork building. The shops no longer stood as icons of small business, long since turned into impromptu shelters for those who owned none. The alley stunk with the smell of the various refuse collected and scavenged by the occupants, in the hopes that something might be used to generate some small form of income.
It reminded him of some of the less seedy parts of Freeside.
When the Courier first entered their home, he had to assure them he meant no harm to them, as most people kept to their own devices rather than start up conversations. When he began asking them questions about the kidnappings he noticed a dichotomy form in their previously coldly neutral attitudes towards him, as if they couldn't tell if he desired to stop the kidnappings, or participated in them. Despite having half of them mistrust him, he managed to eke out small pieces of information, none of which pointed him explicitly towards the kidnappers themselves. The sky had just barely begun to turn amber, letting him know just how long he had been listening to the stories of the various members of the populated alleyway.
"Excuse me sir, I was just wonderi-"
"Kit," the bearded young man replied. He continued staring away from the Courier, not moving even a single muscle.
"Beg Pardon?"
"Kit. She should be around here somewhere," he said, looking directly into the Couriers eyes, as if gauging him. "She was out last night near the intersection between the highway and the boulevard you see running out there," he continued gesturing towards the road which ran in front of the entrance to the alley. "Someone tried grabbing her, but her friend Leo managed to keep her safe."
"Where can I find her?" the Courier asked, reaching into his pocket for a few spare bills.
"I dunno," the bearded man replied, staring in front of himself again. "Won't be hard to recognize her though. She's the only kid around here, you can't miss something like that."
The Courier nodded his head and thanks and handed over a bundle of crumpled bills worth twenty lien, which the man hesitated before accepting. He began to search around the connected alleys, only turning around when coming across some barrier preventing his travel. He wandered around the area until evening fully set in, the sky having lost its blue hue just shortly after learning about Kit.
Turning the corner once again, he began to think he had been swindled when he noticed a bundle of clothes and blankets slightly smaller than the rest of the myriad vagrants calling the connected alley's home. At the top was a head to tiny for an adult, two fox ears sprouting just above where human ears hung. The young girl appeared no older than eight, and had a somewhat dirty and ruddy face, crumbs from her last meal still sticking just below her lower lip.
"Hey there."
The little girl, her tanned rags covered in grime and mud, looked up at the figure squatting in front of her. She didn't flinch despite the blood that stained his desert colored armor, and didn't flinch when looking at his face. A large and nasty gash, likely from a machete, ran from above his left eye down to below his lip and was just starting to staunch, yet the left side of the man's face remained covered in his own blood. His right hand was outstretched towards her, stained in the blood of another man. She looked as if she briefly understood that he had been the source of the loud explosions and gunshots that had filled the air for the past quarter hour, but all she did was simply stare at his hand for a second before mumbling out her response.
"I'm not allowed to talk," she whispered, hunching up further in the large storm drain, staining the rags that covered her further in the dark slime from the drain.
"They can't hurt you anymore," the bleeding man responded. "...Neither will their friends. I promise."
The two remained there for almost a minute before the man quickly reached for something behind him. It took him a minute or so of going through his beige bag before he grunted at his success. Holding the item out for the girl to see, she gasped.
"Sergeant Teddy!"
"Siri told me he belongs to you," the man said with what appeared to be a sincere smile as he looked at the teddy bear. "I figured you'd wanna take him with you."
"With me?" She asked as she crawled towards the man's out stretched arm. Grabbing the teddy bear she hugged it close to her chest before looking back up at the man.
"Yeah," the man said as he reached his hand out. She hesitated a moment before grabbing his hand, as if worried he was just bringing her back out for the others in the camp. She didn't start squirming when and in fact relaxed when realized he wouldn't drag her hard by her arm. "I'm taking you somewhere safe."
The Courier shook his head, stopping one of the few half-decent memories he had of the Fort. The girl reminded him of the young slave girl, though he felt the young fox faunus had experienced only a slightly better life than a female, prepubescent legion slave. Walking towards the small girl he coughed into his hand, grabbing her attention. The blankets she had been sitting under moved about in ways impossible for a single child, before a large German Shepherd crawled out from under one of the Edges. The large dog stared at the young wastelander, its mouth covered in stains from what must have been some wet dog food. Neither love nor hate appeared in the dog's eyes, only the simple wariness of a wary caretaker.
"You must be Kit. Nice to meet you!" The Courier said with a smile as he took a seat across from the young girl, who continued to stare at him cautiously even after he finished sitting down. "I heard some nasty man tried to hurt you the other night. Could you tell me what happened?"
The girl simply shrunk back into the wall, as if she feared the Courier might hurt her in some way. The dog looked briefly at his friend before giving what constituted as a cold stare at the man who scarred his little girl. The Courier fished around in his pockets, and pulled out his wallet, opening it to show the girl his student I.D.
"Look," he said, pointing towards the card. "I'm a huntsman, you can trust me." He watched as her face lit up, as if she had just met some comic book superhero. He figured her childish exuberance hadn't been whittled down by the harsh nature of the streets just yet. He placed his wallet back in his pockets and watched as he freed herself of the blankets in an attempt to sit more properly.
"Now," The Courier began. "I'm going to ask you a few questions."
AN: Well, this is the beginning of a brand new plot arc, taking place during the timeframe of RWBY Volume One, and perhaps parts of Volume two. I'm very pleased to see the story finally reach the parts I have been hoping to reach for the past month. While there is little violence in this chapter, I can promise the next chapter is going to feature some manner of combat.
I will forever remember this chapter as: "The chapter where I forever tainted the image of team BRNZ".
As always, thank you for reading my works.
Sorry, no Omake this chapter.