A/N: I really have nothing to say for this chapter. I just hope you all enjoy it. I will say that a certain ship I've already written for Oscar will also be in this one, though, probably written much later on.
RWBY is owned by Roosterteeth and the late Monty Oum.
The Catalyst
Chapter 2
Oscar made his way over to the desk then, deep in thought. Already sides were being made, and he had only just arrived.
Curious, but not unexpected. He knew something like this would happen on his arrival, especially as his uncle claimed that at least one person here at this estate had been involved in his death.
He paused as he looked at the desk before him. It really was a massive thing, much like the plush rolling chair behind it. He placed a hand on the desk top and left it there, dragging it along as he walked around it, unobtrusively looking for a switch or button to open what seemed like an obvious hidden wall in the bookcase behind the desk.
He sat down at the desk then and started looking over the paperwork on it. Or, at least he acted like he was as he waited for Tyrian to return with the rest of his things, not knowing when he would, and unable to continue with his examination of the room in the mean time.
While he did that he thought over what he had witnessed so far.
Both inhabitants of the mansion he had seen so far claimed to be his late uncle's trust associate, but he doubted that. Or, at least, their personal level of trust with his uncle.
For one, the man, Tyrian, clearly seemed to be at least partially mad. Enough so that his uncle would've never trusted him with anything unduly important. And, possibly anything else to do with whatever he was researching, though, he couldn't be sure.
His uncle had been rather… kind, to put it lightly. Just take him for example.
The two of them weren't actually related by blood, only bonds of fellowship. His aunt had been a favored student of his uncle's back when he was still teaching. Many, many years ago.
Meanwhile, Glynda was so far unreadable, save for the intense grief she was attempting to hide. Most likely for his uncle. A lover, perhaps?
He frowned before shrugging as he read over the documents. He just didn't have the necessary information yet. But, for now, he would place at least a modicum of trust in the more obviously sane person, for now, anyway.
He nodded to himself at that before starting to look over the next set of documents.
And that was another thing. These… documents. They were strange, filled with weird ramblings and sketches of such things as The Red Reaper or The Knight.
His uncle had said in his final letter that he was researching something. But, he hadn't said what. The information in these documents? The research? It was all rather… esoteric. Like the various artifacts and relics he had seen on the way up here.
Like those statues.
He shuddered again at that.
Just, what were those things? And, where had his uncle found them? He had never seen anything like them before. Not in any of the historical documents he found, or in any research he had done on a case.
Strange. And disturbing.
Moreover, he had never pictured his uncle as someone who wasn't intensely logical in his dealings and investigations. So, what was with all these, these things?
He just didn't know. But, he was going to find out. After all, he was a logical person, and there was a logical explanation to all this.
There was, after all, a logical explanation to anything.
Take for example that crazy theory about the Faunus, the race of half-human, half-animals. They had never been proven to exist in all the years since the inception of the theory. True, no one had ever returned from the great island of Menagerie, but still, no one had ever proven that they existed by other means either.
That was when Tyrian returned.
The man knocked twice on the door before entering without asking and smiled as he saw him. "Master," he said gleefully. "I have your things! Where shall I leave them?"
"Oh, just put them in the bedroom, please. I'm going to continue going over things here for a bit before dinner." Oscar said absently, acting for all the world like he was engrossed in the paperwork he was going over. He was, but not nearly enough that he wasn't aware of the man leering at him creepily, well, more creepily than he already was.
He then paused, seemingly in thought, before asking, "Uh, will there be dinner?"
"Oh, yes." The man said while nodding vigorously. "George, the head chef, should have it ready for us in an hour or so. I believe its lamb tonight."
He looked about the room before turning to ask him, "Will there be anything else?"
"Uh, no, no. I'll call if I need anything. Thank you, Mr. Callows." He said in reply, once more acting like he was lost in the notes before him. His uncle had taught him many things over the years, duplicity and acting skills being just a few of the skills he had learned over the years.
The tall man almost seemed to frowned at him for a moment before grinning again as he said, "Very well, sir. See you at dinner then."
"Uh, very good. See you… then." Oscar replied as he read through the next set of documents, waiting for the suspicious man to leave.
Tyrian stood there for a moment longer, as if to see if he really did need him after all before finally turning to leave, taking his clothes and toiletries with him. Oscar waited for him to returned before he got down to doing what he was here to do.
When he finally did Oscar returned to acting like he was too engrosse in what he was doing to notice the man leaving then room, making certain to absentmindedly wave as Tyrian said goodbye. He then instantly dropped the Distracted Intellectual facade as he called it and swirled the chair around the trio of bookcases inserted in the wall directly behind his uncle's desk. He scrutinized it for a moment before snorting in slight amusement.
Really he thought with a smile. A hidden door? In an ancient Mansion? Really, Uncle Oz, that is just too cliche, even for you.
He chuckled to himself at that before getting up from the chair and moving over to the bookcase before him. He ran a hand over the shelves and spines of the books there, looking for some kind of indentation or button.
There was none.
But, he wasn't surprised at that. If there had been something like that on the bookcase the hidden door would have been found before now.
No, his uncle was far too clever for something like that. And, so was he.
He turned back to the desk and began feeling around for indentations or buttons under the desktop or on the sides again. He quickly found what he was looking for. A button, shaped like a gear, on either side of the desk.
He pressed both, and nothing happened. But he was equally unfazed by that. After all, this was his uncle.
So, he looked for more on and around the desk and bookcases for more buttons or switches. And found a one.
It was a switch. Well hiddened in a corner behind a thick textbook on criminal investigations. He smirked at that. It was almost like his uncle was there smiling as he answered one of the riddles he had loved to give him in his youth.
As soon as he pressed the switch he found the middle bookcase quietly opened up up, leaving a brief gape between it and the case next to it. Oscar stopped smiling at that. He palmed a flashlight from his personal briefcase before holstering his sidearm, a classic six round revolver, before fully opening up the fake wall and looked inside.
All he saw was darkness.
He stepped inside. The door closed behind him.
/ /
Tyrian knew that he was mad. He did. Really. But that wasn't going to stop him from what needed to be done. He waited for Glynda to pass by his hiding spot on the second floor before ducking back out and going back up to the third floor again.
Once there he quickly, but quietly made his way to the Room at the End of the Hall. Surely the new Master had discovered some secret of the old one. The one he had killed, strangled, only for him to come back to life.
So, he had killed him again. And again. Over and over again until finally he had to call in proper help. Help that required sacrifice. His sacrifice.
He giggled then. Chortling maddeningly as he quietly opened the door and looked inside. To find it empty. No living being, creature or otherwise, was within.
He froze then, quieted, as he took that simple fact in.
The room was empty. The room was empty? The room was Empty! How was the room empty?! How!
He dashed over to the master bedroom and threw open the door, slamming it against the wall heavily, cracking the plaster on the wall, not caring about being quiet this time. Once more, he froze as he found it, too, empty. Empty! He snarled at that and made to step inside only to freeze the sound of someone coughing behind him.
He turned to find the woman, Glynda, glaring at him while tapping her foot. She drew forth a thin, black rod and pointed it at him as she demanded of him, "Tyrian, Callows! Just what are you doing?! Where is the Young Master!"
He paused at that, thinking hard on what he should do. Then he made to smile at her and spread out his arms in, what he believed to be, at least, a benevolent expression as he started towards her then. "Glynda," he began affectionately…
/ /
Oscar found himself disturbed.
In his mind as he walked down the tight, narrow and very dark corridor he kept thinking over and over again, that his uncle Oz was a rational man, a logical man.
Like he was himself.
So. So, why, why was this home, this building like this? Why did his uncle have all those strange notes? On such esoteric and strange creatures, entities?
Why the statues? Why the relics?
Why?!
His uncle was a rational man, a logical man. Like he was himself.
Wasn't he?
He clenched his eyes closed and shook his head at that. He rubbed a finger and thumb to his eyes and blinked before looking up and out into the dim darkness beyond. Strange, so strange these sudden thoughts.
Why such thoughts? Why now? True, he had always doubted himself over things, but, why now?
What was going on? What was this place? What was this Madness!
He stumbled then, tripping over some unknown spur in the ground, to fall against the walls. As he hit the cool stonework he felt suddenly tired. So, so tired.
How long had he been walking, here, in the dark? It felt like forever ago that he had first stepped through into this portal of darkness.
Maybe he should just rest for a bit? Yes. Rest. He was so tired.
No! He groaned as he forced his way back to his feet. He winced, standing upright and shivered, feeling so cold all of a sudden. He grunted as he reached down and picked up his flashlight then, ignoring how the ice on it vanished as soon as he picked it up, and started down the passageway again.
As he did, the thin glow from his flashlight doing little to cut through the darkness beyond. Darkness that seemed to writhe and weave with malevolent energies behind him as he left it behind.