Oy vey, this one was done in a very short space of time, all while listening to 'I Burn'. Believe me, I know that the previous chapter wouldn't be very interesting, mainly due to the fact that I barely changed anything from Episode 1 of RWBY. I promise, it won't be like that for good. Other moments that weren't shown in RWBY will be written. Anyway, Chapter 3, enjoy.
Chapter 3: Eye Of The Storm
'I hope those two appreciate what I'm doing for them. Selfish asses. Why did I agree to this?'
Five days into our 2-week holiday, and I already wanted to escape. Dad had cooked some food for himself, but he had left the dishes in the sink, telling me it was my turn to wash up for the fifth day in a row, when we had established a rotational schedule. My brother had slept for most of the week, and only got up to go to the bathroom, leaving an unfavorable gift in the toilet for me to discover ten minutes later without fail. Now, Dad had asked me to go to the supermarket through the pouring rain.
The rain had refused to let up, forcing me to get soaked again. I emerged from the supermarket, carrying bags of groceries and home necessities, though I doubt that beer counted as a home necessity. Dad had argued, and settled the tie in his favor. Finally arriving home, soaked to the skin and holding two sodden plastic bags of soiled foodstuffs, I had placed the dripping bags on the counter, and trudged to Dad's bedroom, asking to take a nap.
"No, Darrel, you agreed to take the couch for sleeping, remember?"
"Yeah, Dad, but you're sitting on my sleeping area, you're not using your bed right now, and I need some shuteye. I'm going and you can't stop me." I retorted. Dad got up, and grabbed my shoulder. Spinning around, he saw the anger on my face. I had had enough. I wanted to let fly at him. It would be easy: I had done some training for fighting. I could hold my own. But Dad looked sympathetically at me.
"Look, Darrel. I know you hate it here, but I'm doing this so you can appreciate living at home." He said
"Bullshit. You've had me slaving away for the entire day running after you and my brother. You've left dishes in the sink when it was your turn to clean up, you've sent me into the rain so I can do a beer run, you've taken up my 'bed', and you say you're trying to make me appreciate living at home? I call bullshit." I growled. Dad didn't recoil, only gripped my shoulder.
"Son, I know that you're angry, but this is for your own good. You need…"
"Oh, I need? What about you? "Darrel, do this! Darrel, do that!" That's all I've heard since I've come here to this dump, and you've never thanked me for anything! I'm not your slave, Dad!" I was yelling, causing Dad to hold me tighter. My shoulder was beginning to ache at being squeezed so tight. Dad's face began to twist in anger.
"Darrel, be quiet for two seconds! I'm trying to…"
"There it is again! You're just telling me what to do! That's all I've heard for two days! I'm sick of doing everything here! You have legs! You're not disabled! Don't tell me some cockshit story about how I don't pull my own weight! I have done nothing but live on my knees since I got here! I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of YOU!" I screamed in his face, and punched him in the jaw. Letting go of my shoulder, he stumbled back into the closet, falling on his rump, and having a bucket land on his head. Seizing the opportunity, I shut the door, and wedged a mop between the door and the opposite wall, locking him in. Then, I slammed the front door open, and ran into the pouring rain and mist.
I don't know how long I had spent running, but all I remembered was sand slipping between my toes. Thunder boomed overhead as I reached the beach, nearly 10 kilometers from home. I panted, a searing pain in my side, and out of breath. I didn't care about getting wet; I didn't care about how much trouble I would be in when I would be taken home. All I cared about was letting out all the anger and pain that had been bottled up inside for years.
Mum had died a couple of years ago, when I was 15, and I was still having trouble getting used to the fact that I would never see her again. I never had a lot of friends growing up, and I kind of sucked at talking socially to people. Sometimes, I wished that I could just escape from the world for a few days. But what good does wishing do? It didn't bring me friends. It didn't bring my mother back from the dead. It sure as hell won't bring me a form of release.
I bent down to the wet sand, feeling it displace between my fingers. Clasping a seashell, I picked it up, and in a rage, I threw it into the raging water, watching it skim across the surface. Standing up, I let out an incoherent scream to the heavens, as if asking to be struck by a bolt of lightning right then and there. Falling to my knees, my tears blurred with the rain, as the memories of my dead mother and the life I had wanted to have flashed through my mind.
"Yes, that's right. Let it all out. It's one of many ways to deal with pain."
A female voice. Spinning around, grabbing a nearby stick, I held it up at the intruder. The woman who stood before me was wearing a black hooded cloak, which was undoubtedly sodden through. Aside from her clothing, her goldenrod coloured eyes, appeared to be piercing straight into my soul. I dropped the stick in confusion, and she approached me, cautiously, but calmly.
'You have known pain. Loss. Suffering. Your soul screams in agony in harmony with your heart. You seek a way to escape this anguish. You need not speak further. I can grant you this wish.' The woman's mouth did not move, but her voice rasped in my brain. She removed her hood, showing her dark skin, and emerald green hair, with what appeared to be two red skunk stripes flowing down the sides. But what was most bizarre, was the pair of white lion ears protruding from the top of her head.
"You may be the one who will deliver us to safety. I will entrust you with this. Guard it with your life." She held out her arms, revealing a crystal resting in her hands. It was chipped in some places, and seemed to be old, but it was glowing with an eerie light in all the colors of the rainbow, from red, to yellow, to green, to blue, and back to red. I looked up at the woman who seemed all too eager to trust a stranger she had met on a beach in the rain.
"What do you mean 'deliver you to safety'? What the hell are you talking about?" I needed to know more before I took hold of the rainbow gem of death. She said nothing, just forced the crystal into my hand.
The crystal lit up like a firework, unleashing a rainbow coloured beam to the heavens. As it struck the clouds, I looked up. There seemed to be a disturbance in the clouds. They seemed to grow darker, and moved in a circular pattern, like a tornado was about to strike. The beam disappeared, and it stopped raining for a moment. Looking at the crystal, I wondered what had happened. But when I looked up, the woman who had passed this to me had disappeared into thin air. She couldn't have gone far. There weren't many places to hide around here.
But my thoughts were silenced, when a wave swept over me, knocking me to the ground. The swell seemed to be getting rougher: now was a good time to leave. But before I could scramble to my feet, another wave swamped me, drawing me to the ocean. I began to scrabble at the sand, but it was like trying to grip onto a featureless wall. The third wave, this one the biggest, took me over, and washed me out to sea.
Panicking, I attempted to swim for the surface, desperate for oxygen. But something appeared to be weighing me down. Looking down, fronds of seaweed had wrapped around my ankles like tentacles, tugging me down to the deep ocean floor. If I could get my sneakers off, I could still make it back to shore. But everything was beginning to dim as carbon dioxide began to flood my lungs. I flailed at my shoes, doing anything I could to release them, losing energy. One thought thudded in my head.
'Get out! Now!'
I continued to struggle, until finally, a crucial bubble of air escaped my lips, and my vision began to darken. I saw a light at the bottom of the ocean, the water swirling crazily as the seaweed drew my limp body closer. As I approached the maelstrom, I finally, and mercifully, blacked out.
DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNNNN!
What will happen to our hero? What adventures await him beyond the vortex? Will he be alright?
He's the main character, of course he'll be alright.
Anyway, I've only managed to do about 1/8th of the fiction so far. I don't have the next chapter written out yet, but I do have others.
One more thing: I'm having trouble deciding on a weapon and Semblance for Darrel. I'll list some choices, see what the community thinks.
Weapon:
1. Backpack - Shoulder cannons - Cybernetic Gauntlets
2. Gauntlets - Wrist-mounted crossbows - Pincers - Wrist-mounted Swords
3. Machine pistols - bladed boomerangs - skates
Semblance:
1. Phytokinesis (Telekinetic control over leaves)
2. Super strength
3. Invisibility