Fortune Snow Chapter 3 – Ruhe Stiert
Two years prior to current events
"Come at me boy!" Manner gave a taunting chuckle which seemed to emanate deep from his bowels. It sounded like a giant bellowing.
Ruhe launched an assault with Modal but his constant strikes weren't fast enough to break his trainer's defence. For a hammer wielder, Manner seemed to be able to move surprisingly fast, much faster than Ruhe himself (especially considering the man's rather… large physicality). The trainer drove the Stiert boy back with the tip of his hammer and rushed forward, swinging. Ruhe blocked the strike with Regen, but the shield shattered and he was propelled backwards, sent flying into one of the walls. Ruhe's body bounced off the cold concrete, eliciting a groan of pain from the boy as he slowly got to a knee.
"Ha ha ha!" Manner, having safely sheathed his war hammer on his back, held a hand out to the boy as he chortled heartedly. Ruhe gratefully accepted his trainer's hand and was hauled to his feet. He shakily found his balance as a hand slapped against his back. His chest was heaving in and out
"Yer getting too damn good!" Manner laughed. He seemed to laugh after almost everything he said. He quickly realised how fatigued Ruhe seemed and supported him over to a bench at the end of the training room.
"Still having some trouble controlling yer weapon there I see. It should've been able to soak that blow no problem."
Ruhe nodded, "Yeah, it's just that using that thing is extremely taxing for my mind." – Ruhe held a hand to his head, rubbing his temple with his forefinger and index as he did so – "I get a pretty bad headache after about a minute using it."
"Ah you've only had it a couple months and already it's looking promising!" – he slapped Ruhe on the back again – "After all, James did say ya needed a ton of mental discipline for that thing."
"Yeah…" Ruhe stared at the puddle of liquid on the floor where Regen had shattered, "Still don't know how the damn thing even works."
"James explained it fairly well, didn't he?"
"Yeah, but I'm no scientist, Manner. The most I know is that they shoved even more stuff into my bloodstream… there's enough stuff floating around inside me… I think I should really be dead by now."
Manner chuckled, "James ain't no scientist either." – he looked out across the training room where dummies lined the floors and the occasional door broke the wall – "I don't really see much of an issue having all these drugs floating around in your bloodstream, you look fine to be honest, better than ever really!"
Ruhe gave a light-hearted chuckle, a rare sight for Manner, and said, "It sucks having to jack up on dust every day though."
"Ah, yer looking at the bad stuff, boy!" Manner stood
"Is that an invitation to kick your ass I hear?" Ruhe grinned
"I don't know, is it?" Manner smiled in return
It was almost funny to Ruhe, actually. Manner was one of few people the boy held actual respect for and – by extension – really opened himself up to, showed his true self. It's not that he didn't want to be his real self when it came to other people; he just found it physically impossible and absolutely disgusting to act all buddy buddy with someone who hadn't earned his respect.
To Manner, Ruhe Stiert was not a bad child at heart. Sure, he seemed completely cold and emotionless on the outside, even at his young age, but Manner would simply describe that as the boy's natural stubbornness. Once he found his way to the boy that lived behind all that cold stubbornness, once Ruhe trusted and respected him, it was like a completely new person had surfaced. He would crack the occasional joke and Manner actually found joy in talking and training with the boy. Perhaps it was just his depression that made him see others in such a dull light, manner did not know, but what he did know was that there was someone buried deep inside and that someone just needed to be rooted out.
Ruhe took his place opposing Manner, having gathered Modal Regen and transforming it into a briefcase. They stared each other down, Manner wielding his war hammer and Ruhe with his bare hands extended.
His hands move in some exaggerated air Kung Fu type movements (which were unfortunately necessary, much to Ruhe's dismay) and a small flame lit on the tip of his index finger, soon spreading to his palm. Before long, the flame fizzled and died in his palm.
"Trouble in paradise, eh?" Manner tittered
"I don't get many opportunities to practise with dust; there's always somebody watching me."
"Then use this time now!" Manner suddenly bolted forward, raising his hammer overhead and bringing it down with a powerful bellow. Ruhe quickly moved his hands about, forming a miniature blue glow in his palms and swiftly creating a block of solid ice. Manner's hammer crushed through the fragile material, but it managed to soak up most of the shockwave from the strike, allowing Ruhe to wave his hands again, casting a wave of fire towards Manner.
His trainer jumps the barricade of flames and flies towards Ruhe, hammer raised. The Stiert attempts to create another ice barrier, but the process chews through too much time and he is forced to roll right to avoid the blow. As the hammer collides with the floor, sizeable splinters of concrete fly about and Ruhe was barely able to catch one headed straight for his face.
He used the concrete as a projectile, launching it with deadly precision towards Manner as he raised the handle of his hammer to block it. The solid material shattered like glass and Manner was already encroaching on his opponent once more. Using earth Dust, Ruhe manifested a wall of rock between him and his opponent, intended to but some time as retreated and prepped himself.
As Manner drove through the wall of earth Ruhe bombarded him with a cascade of ice spikes. He was unable to see if they had hit their mark through the dust that had sprouted up. Suddenly, Manner's war hammer flew through the cloud at an incredible speed; Ruhe's eyes widened as he tracked the hammer, attempting to conjure up a barrier of earth to block the hammer-turned-projectile but was too slow to do so, the hammer striking him point in the centre of his chest and catapulting him back into a wall for the second time that day.
Ruhe groaned and hissed in pain as he sat up; there was definitely a shattered rib or two. He sloppily pulled his left sleeve up and lifted the screen of the device bolted to his arm, revealing a small compartment beneath nearly half the size of his forearm. He took one of multiple thumb-sized syringes containing a white liquid and plunged it into his arm.
Manner appeared in front of Ruhe's seated form, sporting a rather casual look.
"Yer aura really sucks, eh?" he chuckled, "Never seen those ones before." He was talking about the syringes in the device on his arm.
"You wouldn't have." He said, his voice shaky and slightly weak, "I've been experimenting a little with Dust mixtures."
"If I had to guess, I would say that it's some sort of super dangerous Dust combination that only benefits you?"
"You guessed right. I suppose the amount of crap running through my blood has something to do with it, but this stuff enhances my body's regenerative capabilities by… quite a lot." He finished, standing to his feet naturally and brushing the specs of dust that had gathered on his coat. When he looked up, he was confused to see Manner giving him a hard glare.
"You could have killed yourself." His voice was stern, laced with an underlying worry that Ruhe was unable to identify. Ruhe raised an eyebrow questioningly and failed to see Manner's fists clenched at his side.
"I used test subjects first. I infused three of them with the same Dust combination in my blood since I couldn't get my hands on any of that other stuff James stuck in my arm. The three I didn't infuse died; the other three were… relatively okay." That was one of Ruhe's problems, one that Manner really didn't like. He said such things so casually. He didn't take death seriously.
Manner had once walked in on Ruhe performing his… experiments. He watched as the Stiert boy performed tests, different chemical substances injected into living subjects. He watched as Ruhe stared dead ahead, watching his subjects writhe in pain and finally succumb to death.
He may have been a good kid, but something had seriously messed with his head.
"The only side effect on me is the decrease in physical ability and aura level for the next hour or so." He placed the empty syringe back in the device's hidden compartment for later disposal.
Manner stared at him in silence for a short moment before giving him a hardy slap on the shoulder and saying in a sombre tone, "It's late, you should get some sleep."
Ruhe watched as his trainer walked through the door.
One year prior to current events
Christ that stings
He tossed the syringe into a nearby bin as he felt heat surge through his veins. He suppressed the urge the scream as his muscles tensed through the pain. His veins ran red, swelling and pulsating from his skin as the liquidised dust fused with his blood. His mind shook and his head throbbed, beating against the lining of his skull; he felt as though his head would explode any minute. Nerve endings fired off in his upper torso as the substance spread from his arm, flooding through his body. The feeling was akin to having oversized maggots crawling beneath your skin…
But damn did it feel good.
Suppressing the addiction that overwhelmed his mind, Ruhe let himself sink back into the armchair accommodating his body. He let out a long, relieving breath as his muscles began to relax. Injecting chemicals into his body on a daily basis, Ruhe found, was not all that fun. A knock sounded and Ruhe's head snapped straight to the door of his room in the Stiert home. A voice came through, lightly.
"Mister Stiert, we are prepared to leave, if you are as well?" By the time the voice had finished Ruhe had already begun opening the door, revealing a guard dressed in an extremely ambitious suit of armour, regarding appearance. Ruhe recognised him as a guard who had been present at several important events he had attended previously. Ruhe nodded to the guard and followed as the man led off down the hall. The guard seem to walk sternly with a burdensome step in complete contrast to Ruhe's weakened stumbling. He tried his best to hide the shakiness in his legs, hoping it would clear by the time he reached the transport.
"Yin." Ruhe called forward, pulling the guard's name from the back of his head. Yin didn't reply but instead turned his head slightly, letting Ruhe know he had his attention. "Why are we to attend a Schnee event?"
"It is common courtesy to accept an invitation from a rival, Mister Stiert." Came Yin's simple reply
"If it is common courtesy," Ruhe started, still following Yin at a reasonable pace, "then what is the need of guards?"
"After the events three years back your father has been extremely cautious. I would say that the only reason you are even leaving the house is to put on a display of power; to stand by your father's side in public." Yin said. Ruhe stayed silent the rest of the walk. It was dark out, late night.
Before Ruhe boarded the small shuttle intended to fly them from the eastern regions of Atlas across to the western-most regions of the Atlesian land mass, Yin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Mister Rothland was assassinated this morning," he said sternly, "please keep an eye out during the event; we don't know who could be next." Ruhe nodded in reply and took a seat in the small shuttle. His father was already seated inside.
"Hello, Ruhe." He smiled
"Hello, father." Ruhe replied curtly. The entire thirty minute journey was spent in tandem silence, neither person raising their voice to speak. When they finally touched down on a docking pad in western Atlas, his father spoke to him.
"I understand you are unhappy to be attending a Schnee event, but this is necessary." Ruhe grumbled in response and turned his head to look out the window into the pale moonlight. The door folded open and Yin appeared from the cockpit, standing beside the door to the passenger compartment. Ruhe's father exited first, followed shortly by his son. Ruhe straitened his coat as he looked out across the airborne docks, shaded in darkness with the occasional lamp to break the veil. It was quiet.
"How is that independent branch coming along?" His father attempts to make conversation with his son, but Ruhe just shoots him down.
"It's not a branch; I just own a bunch of shops." Ruhe doesn't lead on with anything.
Yin heads the group with five more guards and three at the rear as they parade through the streets, garnering stares from the Atlesian public. Most look at them with a mixture of envy and appreciation, some others with hate and discontent. Ruhe ignores the glares and refuses to look anywhere other than forward, running a hand through his silvery hair every now and then.
Soon they encroach upon White Castle, a medieval, gothic-style castle owned by the Schnee family and where Weiss Schnee was set to be performing that night. Singing was never something that Ruhe Stiert enjoyed but it wasn't something he couldn't stand to hear. He held no form of respect for singers, the only respect in his mind was for fighters, leaders and businessmen.
The guards at the castle gates rushed to open them upon seeing the advancing squadron of Stiert-branded guards and the Stiert family members in tow. The Stiert guards divide their attention, two of them observing the Schnee guards and the rest probing the rooftops and architectural design of White Castle. As they enter the auditorium where the night's performance was set to take place, the chatter in the audience dies to a concoction of whispers and mumbles as they stare at the Stierts – whether out of respect or fear, Ruhe was unsure. They took their seats in the front row with Yin and the guards taking positions around the room and next to the stage. They seem to keep their distance from the more formally dressed Schnee guards.
Unfortunately for Ruhe, he was forbidden by his father from taking his weapon to the event. The loss of personal security put him on edge and his eyes often drifted around the room and into the rafters and upper-regions of the auditorium to probe for anything that looked mildly suspicious. He occasionally saw his father glance sideways at him.
Ruhe and his father sat silently for the duration of ten minutes until the performance began, the curtains pulling back to reveal the alluring appearance of Weiss Schnee. She was dressed simply, but even Ruhe had to admit to himself that she was indeed a beautiful girl. There was simply no denying that fact.
Cute, he mused.
He could care less for her singing. Whilst good, Ruhe didn't care for it, and blocked most of the performance out. He almost fell asleep, but his father would give him a soft nudge every time he realised his son was drifting off. Ruhe would respond by jerking away.
Ruhe manages to pick out the scar over her left eye as he watches her perform. All in all, there was one major question revolving about his mind:
Can she fight?
As she concludes her song and gives a curtsey, a round of applause erupts from the audience and the curtains begin sliding closed. Ruhe gives his own small, unamused clap and just as the curtains close, Weiss Schnee catches his eye.
Enemies till the end of days, Ruhe smiles inwardly.
As the curtains finally slide closed, Ruhe's eye responds to sudden movement and shoots left to where Yin is unslinging the rifle from his back. He screams, "Get down!" but the crowd seems lost in its own applause as gunshots ring out through the room. A few of the audience members drop to the floor, but not by their own choice.
Ruhe could see the gunman now, three rows back.
White Fang… how did he hide his Faunus traits?
He seemed to have slipped on the mask near the end of the performance and was picking out the wealthiest-looking attendants to fire on. Within moments, a guard tackles Ruhe and his father to the ground, below the chairs and out of the line of fire as he places several accurate shots aimed towards the gunman. Suddenly, Ruhe's vision blacks and a reverberating ringing becomes present in the Stiert's ears. It lasts minutes before his vision reclaims itself and light becomes real again.
The guard standing over them had disappeared, thrown back against a wall and now unmoving, a deadly stillness overcoming his body with his rifle lying beside him on the floor. Ruhe's vision was still blurry and all he could make out was the piercing moonlight from the skylight. In a short moment, a blurred figure appears over him, saying something. His mouth is moving though the rest of his face is obscured by a helmet. Ruhe barely makes him out to be a guard. As his ears clear of the obnoxious ringing, the guard's voice became clearer.
"Mister Stiert, can you hear me?" It was Yin. Ruhe manages a nod, though Yin's head turned to look somewhere else and his gun rose, the barrel flashing a few times. Something feels cold in his hand.
"The White Fang somehow got in. Every Schnee personnel were evacuated before the attack, so I'm told." Yin says as Ruhe sits up, leaning against a half obliterated chair for support.
"What happened?" Ruhe asks, realising that Yin had placed a sidearm into his hand.
"The gunman had a bomb, then the Fang rushed in after the explosion."
"Where's dad?"
"Unconscious." Yin says blankly gesturing behind him. His father's limp figure had been rolled onto his back and blood spilled from his face. A guard was tending to him. Something crossed Ruhe's mind.
"The Schnees evacuated?" Yin nods in response, still firing on the encroaching hoard of White Fang members as they return with their own hail of gunfire.
"Then they knew this was going to happen…" Ruhe leans over the broken chairs and drops two Fang members with a couple bullets. Four more guards join them, one guard with one of his wounded brethren in a fireman's carry over his shoulders. Thankfully for them, the White Fang seemed to lack a sufficient supply of projectile weapons.
"We got two casualties!" One guard shout over the gunfire as his friend gently lays the wounded guard onto the floor. The guard previously attending to Ruhe's father rushes to the new wounded. Two casualties and there were seven other guards here, one wounded… this was the entire guard detail.
"Damn dirty Schnees!" Ruhe hissed under his breath as he took out a few more Fang members. The numbers seemed to be thinning considerably. The guards were damn good at their jobs.
So… the Schnees are playing desperate…
It was true desperation, resorting to terrorism to eliminate your competition. Technically, the Schnees weren't the one committing a terrorist act, but as far as Ruhe was concerned, this was all their doing.
They must have known a Fang attack was planned.
One guard's head shot back as a bullet pierced his visor, ricocheting off the back of his helmet and straight back into his face a second time. Their aura would only last so long.
"Man down!" a guard shouted as he reloaded his rifle.
"I count thirteen!" another shouts as he ducks back behind cover.
A sudden spout of anger well sup inside Ruhe and he shouts at his unconscious father, "You know what would be really useful right now? MY WEAPON!"
Yin takes a bullet through the shoulder as his aura depletes. A pair of White Fang members reach the front rows and a guard produces a baton and runs to intercept them. The Fang produce swords.
The guard rushes forward and deflects a slash from the first Fang, sliding across the ground and taking the second Fang's legs out, incapacitating him with a knee to the face as he falls. A few strikes to the first Fang's legs allow him time to snap the Fang's neck as he simultaneously puts a bullet in the other's face with a pistol. The body is used as a shield as he runs back to cover.
"Six!" a guard shouts, counting the remaining Fang. Soon enough, the White Fang are cleared out and bodies litter the White Castle auditorium, civilian and Fang alike. The guards sling their rifles behind their backs.
Three guard casualties and one injured. His father was also injured.
"The local authorities should be arriving soon." Yin says. He took a bullet through the shoulder and was clutching at the wound, though seemed otherwise unfazed.
"I swear," Ruhe's fists clench and his expression becomes stern and riled, "If I ever see a Schnee, I will be making them atone for what has happened tonight." He looks out among the deceased and utters a silent prayer.