Ruby I

Crouching behind an old shelf, the approach of a man with heavy, flat feet caught my ear. In spite of his efforts to move in silence, his feet hammered the ground as if made of lead. The balls of his feet struck the floor and rang bell-like, trepidation only stretching the sound into long doldrums. By that point I was certain that he was aware of my presence. Revelations of that kind, that one's mark was aware of their status as prey, had compelled many amateurs to move hastily in the past. The knowledge of the fact that a chase was underway suddenly made it more real for both parties. Ideally, one would subdue their mark without ever letting them become aware of the fact that they were being hunted. Always stalk at a dogged pace, such that your prey's death and knowledge of your presence come paired like thunder and lightning.

I heard him turn on his heels and face down the aisle of the shelf that hid me. Kneeling behind the narrow side on the opposite end, the sound of gunfire crashed against my ear. Instead of walking down the aisle, as I had anticipated, he had instead decided to shoot at the other side. The punch of lead came loud and heavy like percussion. What a clown, I thought; what man had ever been routed so easily, I thought. I was confident, victory seemed near, until one round from his rifle, lonely and stray, ricocheted off of some stud in the now bare wall and found a home in the meat of my shoulder.

Ducking around the shelf and creeping up behind him, I readied my weapon. The hunk of iron in my hand unfolded like a butterfly knife and produced a great blade from between the two handles. Each handle was of considerable length, about as long as a shovel. On the right was the primary handle which would become the base of the staff, to its left was the bite. As it unfolded and reached the apex of its swing, the bite stopped and latched in place with a hard clanging sound. Once the two became one long pole the blade would slide down the end, forming a scythe, and complete the transformation. I called this the bloom. Blooming took place with the haste of a thunderstorm; simply blinking could take up enough time so as to miss the entire process. Indeed, too many men had a fatal habit of blinking.

Bringing the scythe down hard on the back of his legs and cutting the tendons, the gunman folded with a scream. His gun fell out of his hand and bounced as it hit the ground, firing a stray round that lodged itself in the ceiling. His gun was of the modern variety. Back in my father's day every gun was double action. Some of the older rifles, he told me, required that the black-powder and the ammunition be loaded separately rather than coming packed together in a single bullet. All rather inconvenient. Things changed dramatically after the advent of single action weapons, now even a fool like this, without any aura, could pose a decent threat.

Though times were certainly changing, I thanked god for the fact that outlaws were still just as dim as ever. The mess of a man who laid before me graoning in agony was none other than Nace Copper. He was a prolific thief who had stolen hundreds of pounds of gold from banks across all of Anima. His crime spree went unchallenged for years because Nace was always careful. He only ever stole small amounts. Combine that with his unassuming appearance and you have the perfect crime. He was neither tall not short; neither fat nor slim. He was the kind of man you could find anywhere. Putting him away would do all the normal looking middle aged men a favor.

"By the power vested in me, by the Republic of Vale and the spirit of justice which courses through the veins of its people, I hereby sentence you-" I began to say before being immediately cut off by him.

"AIIIIIEEEE" He was struck with terror when I reached out to him, expecting me to end his life. I was almost offended by his fear, truly I was. At no point was killing him part of the plan. Although not working within the law, strictly speaking, I was no criminal. I only wanted to arrest him, that's it. Of course, his resistance complicated things quite a bit.

Wrapping his wounds, I thought about what ought to be done with him. Turning him in as a blood-soggy mess would be a great misstep. Caution got the better of me and I decided on simply leaving him tied to a railing outside the building. After that I ran for home.

A month ago I was accepted into an institute of higher learning dedicated to developing the metaphysical abilities of promising young minds, Beacon they called it. The students in attendance, broadly speaking, were called hunters. I made my lodgings in one of their smaller dormitories, Ba'al Hall. It should be noted that the modest size of where I stayed didn't dissuade Beacon from emptying its coffers on all manner of fineries and dainty things: marble tiles framed with ironwood baseboards, grand foyers, and chandeliers that could only be described as epic. If my understanding of the college board's reasoning was correct, the decadence of the interior design was meant to convey a sense of power. They had chosen a mode of conveyance that was subtle, like a horse's cock, and clever, like a dog's bollocks. The marble flooring was obviously necessary, intensely so in fact.

Upon approaching the northern face of Ba'al I made my ascent towards the third floor. My habit of lurking around at night, slinking through boroughs and back alleys, had the knock on effect of keeping me away from the dorms. So I really had no idea how many floors the hall had exactly but my guess would be at least 6. Ascending the bricked face of the thing, it occurred to me that I dangled 40 feet off the ground, suspended only by the strength of my fingers. Slipping to the ground would have been so easy. All of the entrances to the building become locked by 11 at night, no later than 11:09. The mechanism which caused the locking relied on metaphysics. Doors which gave access to the outside of the building were fitted with locks that connected to an array of metal eyes. Those sensors watched the night sky and would lock the doors automatically after a certain group of stars was no longer visible, though the specifics of which stars correlated to the locking mechanism was a closely guarded secret. The supernatural aspect came in how the array was wired. They were made from a mix of minerals, called dust, whose physical properties defied natural law, and metals that were designed to receive psychic signals similar to how gold conducts electricity, which allowed people to give the machines simple instructions. There was no way around this hurdle, it seemed. Nothing could be done about the sensors as far as I could tell. Climb or sleep on the lawn; I chose to climb.

Climbing through the window of my room, I set my feet down gently. Everything seemed fine as I closed it. Then a prickly voice poked at me.

"You dolt! Do you have any idea what time it is?" she asked "Well, what are you waiting for? I asked you a question," She said. I didn't know what I could possibly say.

"Ummm," was the only thing that was able to escape my mouth.

"'Ummm'? What's 'ummm'? Can you point to the hand on the clock that points to 'ummmmmmm'?" she asked, making her way over to a clock on the wall. I had no idea we even had a physical clock, let alone the fact that someone had taken the time to hang it on the wall with a hammer and nail. She brought the clock over to me and pointed at it. "Which of these hands looks like 'ummmmmmmmm' to you?" She asked.

"Well, it's awfully dark in here, I can't really see them," I replied. Weiss let out an exhausted sigh before crawling back into bed. She had been my roommate for a little over a month. She was fierce, an adept hunter with a powerful aura of many colors. Like a white tiger, Weiss had a majestic appearance that enchanted people and drew them in, but it also betrayed her true nature. Beneath that marble countenance lied something hungry and dangerous. There were times where I feared it might swallow me whole. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what gave the tiger its fangs. Few hunters had easy lives. Some even said that trauma was a prerequisite for the job. What happened to make her so aggressive? I wonder. All this to say that I spent great deal of my time thinking about Weiss. Who was it that hurt her, and why? Oh, how lovely it is for the mind to wander. I had become so lost in my own thoughts that sleep came easy.

The next day Weiss had woken up before me. I heard her quietly shuffling around as she prepared for the day. She had a large mirror situated on her desk where she did her make up. All the powders and gels and glosses were too much for me to handle, but when I did bother to put any on I applied mine while sitting on the floor. I had a vanity mirror, which also sat on the floor, that I would use.

"You'll be late," She said. I was half asleep and the prospects of me waking up in time for our morning classes seemed increasingly slim. It was just Oobleck's history lecture so who really cares? "Did you hear what I said?" She asked, slightly annoyed "Suppose I'll have to tell Yang you're skipping classes now..."

"I'm up!" I shouted, beating away whatever sleepiness had held me in bed. Although the bathroom was shared between the four of us, our dorm had a few amenities that were quite nice: wood flooring that was dark as coffee, cottage style wallpaper, and a modest kitchen. I made my way over to the kitchen and offered Weiss some toast. Her pointy ears perked up at the notion. She knew that I was generous with the margarine and that I tended to toast the bread with butter on the stove.

"If you're cookin' lemme get some too," a sunny voice chimed.

"Aren't you tired of my cooking at this point, Yang?" I joked

"Nope!"

I laughed. She had a way of bringing the comfort of our old home with us wherever we went. And for that, I loved my sister dearly. Trust me when I say she always lit up a room. Tall, blond, and boisterous, Yang had the personality of roaring canon fire. She was loved by everyone, men and women alike. I remember times when she would recount stories from her travels and people would hang on her every word. It was like magic, that kind of magnetism she had.

"Where's Blake by the way?" I asked.

"She's in our room pacing back and forth like a maniac," she said

"If I'm a maniac, you're the entire goddamn psych ward," Blake shot back coolly as she came in the room.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why don't you sit down and eat something for once?" Yang said

"Is Ruby cooking?"

"Yup,"

"I picked a good time to come out then," Blake said, shooting me a grin as I handed Weiss a plate of bacon and toast. We all sat and ate, talking about our plans for the day. Apparently there was a function that was being held by some of the upperclassmen off campus that Yang planned on going to later. She managed to convince Blake to come with her, but Weiss and I were more hesitant. I never had a taste for wine and tended to avoid the kinds of gatherings Yang went to. Besides, I had other plans tonight. The streets of Beacon became more sinister at night. I, the minder of better days, took it upon myself to do something about it. Spending my time keeping the peace was more important to me than trotting off to who-knows-where to do god-knows-what.

Eventually though, the conversation meandered to the subject of academics.

"What's Oobleck talking about today?" Yang asked, to no one in particular.

"It's in the syllabus," Blake replied

"Yeah, because I'm gonna read that shit, right?" Yang joked. It managed to get a chuckle out of Blake. "I don't wanna be mean here, but there's something off about Oobleck. That man's popping red poppies, I guarantee it. Have you noticed the way he talks? He's gotta be on something."

"Have you done them before?"

"Poppies? Nah, never in my life have I touched the stuff."

"Never?" I asked, incredulous "What about when you came home late that one time and dad caught you with your eyes red?"

"My aura made my eyes look red, that's all,"

"It only does that to your Iris though, not the whole eye," I said "and you were talking so fast too…"

"Show me a human who can be sober for an hour and I'll show you the next king of men," Weiss interjected "What a sad little race you belong to, really is a pity."

"Alright, Alright! Why is everyone on my neck all of the sudden?" Yang said, fighting back a smile. "We have class in ten, let's get a move on."