Chapter 3

[Rabia Colorado]

"I'm home!" Rabia called as he closed the wooden door behind him before turning towards the small rack at the side of the entrance. It wasn't long before he had finished removing his muddy boots and placing them inside it. A little ritual that had started so he wouldn't make a mess of the house whenever he came back from a hunt.

"Welcome back!" he heard his mom scream from the kitchen. He guessed it was already late enough for her to start cooking dinner. Since her dismissal from the militia, she had taken over most of the home activities and stubbornly refused any kind of help. An active woman like her needed something to keep herself occupied, or so he assumed. "Can you check on the baby?! I am busy right now!"

"Got it!" he screamed back from the entrance as he walked into the small living room. The small TV was turned on but placed on mute, currently playing some news about Vale Dust robberies going up recently. After a brief scan, he noted that no one else was home. His brothers' tutorship should have ended by now, so he guessed they must be playing somewhere. His dad wouldn't be out of work for another hour at least.

A gurgle-like sound attracted his attention to the only other person in the room. The baby, who could barely even be considered a toddler, just stared at him with a smile as she giggled to herself. The action covered her face and clothes with drool, but she didn't seem to mind, holding tightly to the handrails of the small wooden crib.

"Hey there, Ira," Rabia said as he crouched next to her. The teenager wiggled his index in front of her nose, which in turn made the baby go cross-eyed to look at the tip of his finger. One of her hands tried to grasp at the offending appendage with all the coordination expected from a baby barely past her first year of life.

Sadly, she lost most of her equilibrium when she let go of the handrail. Her tiny legs were not able to support her weight just yet, and she fell on her butt with a 'plop'.

He winced already expecting her to start wailing and screeching. Luckily for the teen, Ira only looked around herself and seemed to find the sudden motion more amusing than anything else. She quickly waved her hands, laughing as her small, barely furred tail, waved rapidly behind her.

"Does she need a change of diapers?!" her mom asked loudly from the kitchen.

With a resigned sigh, Rabia lifted the little faunus from the crib, who seemed to recognize the voice. Ira wiggled in his grasp and turned her body towards the kitchen, intoning a mumbled "Ma..ma."

He approached his face against the baby and sniffed a little bit after he made sure not to enhance his nose with aura. He had already committed that mistake once.

"Fuck!" Rabia exclaimed, pushing the baby as far as his hand could. His eyes watered at the horrible smell that assaulted him. How could a creature so tiny and adorable produce something as nauseating as that?

Ira seemed to find his suffering amusing, however, laughing loudly.

"You better not be swearing in front of the baby again, Rabia!" their mom snarled almost as if summoned, wheeling herself in their direction. 'How does she know?!' there was no way she could have heard him. Enhanced faunus senses or not.

Ira wiggled and made grasping motions towards the woman, brokenly calling for her.

"I wasn't even-!" he started to retort before he let out a sigh. There was no point after all. "Whatever… she needs new diapers, though," the teen grumbled. He handed his little sister to his mother, who took the baby in her arms and proceeded to smell her too before cringing slightly.

"I guessed it was about time…" she mumbled to herself. With a quick turn, she rapidly wheeled herself towards the bedroom with one hand, while the other held the baby securely against her chest. With nothing else to do, Rabia followed right behind her. "I don't want Ira to learn any swear words from you. I want someone aside from your father who doesn't curse like a sailor in this house!"

'You are the one that curses the most out of all of us though,' he thought to himself but was wise enough not to say it out loud. He might not be the smartest cookie in the jar, but even he knew nothing good would come from voicing that.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You repeat the same thing every day," he muttered instead.

She scoffed.

"Of course I do. I swear that if I don't remind you all the time, Ira would have learned at least ten of them before learning how to say 'Mom'." The woman grabbed a box of diapers from the cupboard and got to work. Rabia certainly wasn't going to offer to help with that, that was for sure.

For her part, the baby seemed to have lost interest in her mom now that the woman was giving her attention and started making grab motions in his direction. She repeated broken 'R..Ra' sounds followed by mumbles and cooing noises. Ira had been practicing his name for a few weeks already but the 'bi' part of it seemed to be quite the challenge for her. So, for the moment, he was just 'Ra-a.'

"How was the mission?" their mom asked as she finished changing Ira.

"Pretty good, I would say." He reclined over the bed. The baby cooed at him from the side as she tried and failed to sit on top of the mattress. "At least this one didn't escape deeper into the jungle. Got Lotte to let me borrow her sniper this time for some practice. Though, apparently, I am shi-."

The woman glared at him, pointing towards the baby who was looking at him as if trying to understand what he was saying.

Right. No bad words in front of his sister.

"-sh-suc-bad. I'm bad at it." There. Nailed it.

The answer to his troubles was a roll of his mom's eyes.

"Seems like you inherited entirely too much from me, I also couldn't aim for sh-" Rabia gave her a grin to which she responded by whacking him in the head with the spoon that she brought from the kitchen, for some reason. "-at all to anything further than five meters away. Blasting them with my shotgun was more effective anyway."

"Ablathat-prrrft," Ira gave her two cents, sagely. Spittle flew everywhere and Rabia flinched a little when a drop came particularly close to him. His mom sighed, took a handkerchief from her pocket, and started to clean the mess.

"I guess, it is not a big loss either way. I can't even use my semblance from far away, and I'm better at melee." He let a grin grow. "Up close and personal. Guess I will have to depend on my… ugh, teammates to take care of that part."

The idea of having to spend the next four years getting chummy with some randoms was already making him annoyed, but it wasn't like he could do anything about that. The letter, and common knowledge, made it pretty clear that huntsmen in training always stayed in groups.

It wasn't negotiable.

The kingdoms wouldn't spend tons of resources on training super warriors, only for them to up and die because they were too prideful to have backup. Solo hunting was for veterans, not kids too wet behind the ears to know when they bit more than what they could chew. It was something only the best of the best dared to do. Or the suicidal.

His mom snorted.

"You are going to need someone to do the thinking for the group too," she told him with a shake of her head. "If you end up being the leader, all the planning will be to charge and hit until whatever the target is, dies."

Rabia let out an annoyed huff in response. He had anger and impulse control issues, what about it? Quick to violence was a perfectly reasonable way of doing things when you made a living by killing creatures made out of literal darkness.

Neither of them said anything after that. The baby cooed and giggled as their mom bounced her up and down on the bed. He let his body fall onto the mattress and stared towards the ceiling.

The silence was broken by the woman first. Her voice was quieter and less secure than he was used to.

"...You are leaving next week."

"...Yeah."

"Did you save up enough? I know we are not swimming in money, but your dad and I can–"

"It's alright. I have enough, huntsman work pays surprisingly well."

"Wouldn't I know it? I swear that half of the staff complained all day whenever we had to give them the big notes. I swear they made more in a day than most of us did in a month," she commented derisively, rolling herself back out of the room. He would personally offer to help her, but she didn't like being pushed around by other people unless she absolutely had to.

It wasn't long before they reached the living room again, the news anchor was gone and now there was some sort of commercial about the Vytal festival. Some people were already buying their tickets even months in advance, it seemed.

"Alright, I'll go finish cooking. I want you to prepare the table and, if your brothers are not back by then, go look for them. Your dad already called, he will come back late tonight," his mom said as she placed the baby inside the crib. Ira started whimpering immediately before the woman shook a toy in front of her. It seemed to do the trick, distracting Ira from her tantrum.

"Wait, why do I have to go look for them? If they can't get here before food is done, then it is their fault." Rabia took the control remote and unmuted the TV, changing channels distractedly. He had just gotten home, he wasn't feeling like going back out again now.

"Just do what I say or you will not be getting any food either, brat," his mom threatened, the sound of cutlery and other articles reaching him from the kitchen.

Rabia let out a groan, he hadn't even taken a shower yet.

"Fuck me…"

Well, at least he hadn't cleaned his boots yet.

"F-fu-"

He froze. Rabia's head slowly and mechanically turned towards Ira. The baby had, at some point, lost interest in her toy and was looking at him with a cute frown of concentration.

"F-fuc," she said. Her expression changed to happiness at her accomplishment.

'You know what? Going out doesn't sound so bad right now.'

He rushed towards the door and wore his boots in record time, sprinting out of the house as fast as his enhanced body could take him. He didn't manage to reach the end of the block before a screech of sheer rage, far scarier and monstrous than the Bormean Grimm could ever hope to be, caught up with him.

"RABIA!"

He would have to come back eventually and face his fate, but that moment wasn't now.

[}-o-{]

[Nero Cielo]

"I feel like a person again," he commented with a grin as he checked Fall's cylinder. Now with better funds after selling his first bits of information to Junior, Nero had been able to afford actual dust rounds for his weapon. It'd make a world of difference for the test to get to Beacon's initiation, that was for sure.

It'd also likely make all the difference for the actual initiation. After all, he'd decided not to make Rise beforehand. It was too expensive to get it commissioned and he didn't trust others to make that kind of weapon without messing up somehow. He'd just have to wait and study so that he could make it himself once he had access to Beacon's facilities.

He was confident he could manage with just Fall, even if it was a pretty basic weapon.

Clicking the cylinder into place, he looked over the weapon. He'd just finished maintaining the thing before loading the new ammo. Now, it was ready for anything, even if it wouldn't see action any time soon and he likely would have to do it again soon.

There was just something very reassuring about having a weapon with proper ammunition, but maybe that was just the street rat in him talking.

"Productive hunt, huh?" he asked, setting Fall on the table as Bianca came in through the window behind her. His senses and mental map told him that she'd brought in a rat with her. Poor, foul rodent hadn't stood a chance, he was sure. "Don't make a mess, yeah?" he added, getting a dismissive meow in response.

He almost sighed, but he decided to have a little faith in his animal friend…

Yeah, nah, he was definitely going to need to clean up after her.

For the moment, he went to wash his hands and then prepared himself some sandwiches for dinner. It seemed that he wouldn't have to worry about Bianca's meal, at least, so that was good. With a snack in hand and time to kill now that it was night once more, Nero decided it was time to break out the books.

He had a lot of studying to do, after all. He needed to prepare for the entrance exam for Beacon's initiation. He needed to study how to make weapons so that he could make Rise later on. He needed to continue getting acquainted with Vale too, because there was nothing more important than knowing your surroundings well.

Nero groaned, letting his head fall on the table.

He might deal with information, but that didn't mean he was studious. He could learn alright, but more often than not books just went about it in the worst possible way. Everything sounded so irrelevant when it was explained by a book and you likely forgot about it until you were forced to remember and learn it properly by actually having to use that in real life. Experience was the best teacher and Nero knew that very well himself.

"Let's start with the weapons book then," he muttered to himself, doing just that. After all, at least he could see about applying what he learned into Rise's design. It would still be dull as fuck, he knew, since he'd have to comb through all the unnecessary information to get to what he needed for his future weapon, but it was what it was.

Better than full on death by boring texts, he supposed.

So, he sat in his empty apartment, reading through page after page in the relative silence of Vale late at night in an area where nobody wanted to make too much noise. He'd gotten the contact for the place from Junior and it was in Red Axe territory, so Nero was confident no problem would come his way. After his first day in the city, he had wanted to make sure nothing would happen.

That had been entirely too much excitement for him.

Especially so close to getting into Beacon. He was leaving a dangerous life for another and he couldn't afford to mess up before even getting started. The criminal life would always be a part of him, but Nero didn't want to let it get in the way of his huntsman path.

Not even the landlord could be a problem. Or, maybe it was better to say, landlady. The elderly woman seemed to be in good standing with most of the neighborhood and she owned a nice little Mistrali restaurant. Nero had been there for a grand total of one day and he already knew that he'd eat her food more often than not. She was also kind and the place was cozy. There was literally nothing not to love.

He was halfway through a part that spoke of how to best adapt a mechashift mechanism for weapons that had more than one "gun" form when Bianca seemed to be done with her meal and jumped on his lap. 'Don't know why I'm even reading this. Rise will just be a revolver-sword too, just with a little more dust magic thrown in,' he thought to himself, sighing as he started petting his cat.

He blamed his perfectionist tendencies, really. There was nothing worse than an information provider that gave bad information, after all. It was better to get all the facts if at all possible. It wasn't always the case, but Nero had learned to do so religiously whenever it was an option.

There, reading through books and with nothing else to do, he had no excuse not to learn everything. Who knew, right? Maybe there'd be something in some other chapter that would tell him something useful. 'Sometimes I hate my brain,' he grumbled internally as he continued reading.

He glanced towards Fall, laid on the table to the side.

'Have to upgrade that too,' Nero noted with a sigh, since that'd mean even more studying. Rise and Fall might not be all that different aesthetically speaking, but the systems they required would be very different from one another. 'Hm, should I upgrade or make a second version?' he wondered, letting himself be distracted momentarily.

Fall had been with him for years and he was kind of attached to it, but it was very simple. The least he could do if he wanted to stand a chance at being somebody in Beacon was to have a weapon better than that. 'I did save Turmoil,' he mused, knowing that his first revolver rested, dismantled, inside his backpack. If Fall was outdated, then Turmoil was a relic, really.

'Guess I'll make a new Fall,' Nero decided, nodding to himself. Call him sentimental, but he wanted to keep Fall the same even if he'd change it for something better later. He thought it'd be nice to have his progress displayed in the shape of the weapons he'd used through his life.

[}-o-{]

Nero found himself once more sitting at the counter of Junior's club the night after. He needed money, after all, so he'd have to keep doing business as usual for the time being. There were a number of things that he could need cash for. He needed to get a proper huntsman outfit, for one. For another, he might change his mind in regards to his weapon situation.

On top of that, there was the fact that he'd have to provide himself the ammo for his weapons, whether he got them before or after Initiation.

And those were just a few of the things that could leave him with empty pockets. 'No matter what, money's always a problem,' he thought wryly, closing his eyes and bringing his drink to his lips. The aftertaste of alcohol was there, but it was very easily overpowered by the sweetness of everything else that was in the mix. It helped soothe his thoughts, which was good in the middle of so many stimuli for his semblance.

Pausing for a moment, he took in his surroundings. The shapes of the people around him, detailed by the echo of the unending, deafening music, were clearer at that moment than they would be if he just looked. Idly, he picked a few conversations around him too, but none of them seemed particularly important. A joke here, some useless gossip there, awkward flirting on the opposite side of the counter, and- '... What's wrong with the people of Vale, man?' he wondered, grimacing at yet another piece of bedroom information that he really could have done without.

"They say you are Little Bird," said the man who had taken the empty side by Nero's side.

"They say a lot of things around here," he replied with a shrug. "I can tell you Little Bird's not my name," Nero added. Basic rule of the underworld. If you don't know someone well, never admit to anything, no matter what. Even if someone knew a lot more than a "lawful" person should, it could always be a trap. Even if it wasn't, it generally paid to err on the side of caution anyway.

"There's no need for cryptic talk, you know?" the man asked with a chuckle before asking for his own drink from Junior. Nero didn't open his eyes, taking another sip from his drink. As he did, he took in Junior's movements and expression together with the new arrivals. It was a neat use of his semblance he'd found. It helped take people off guard since he could perceive the world just as well if not better than with his eyes open. People never expected that and it made them let their guards down to see him like that.

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about," Nero replied casually.

"Look, we both know how things stand," the man said, not really sounding annoyed but still seeming pretty much done with things. "I just need the juiciest piece of info you have and I have more than enough to pay."

"Hm, I'm sure you do," was Nero's response. Because trusting that kind of talk was for idiots that got scammed. He'd know. "Don't have that much anyway."

"There are rumors of you in Mistral," the man told him then, and Nero saw him reach for his pocket, but he didn't move. There was no weapon there, after all. All there was… was Lien. Lien that were soon placed on the counter between the man and Nero. 'Hm, that's actually a lot of money,' he noted to himself, not moving or reacting. "I know you must have something. Just name your price."

"I just wanted a drink, man, what's with this?" Nero said then with a chuckle, not really bothered. Business was business and he'd just been thinking about how he needed money anyway. So, opening his eyes, he glanced towards the stack of Lien before turning towards the man.

And then he froze.

The man had black hair with a spiky style and signs of graying already. He was dressed somewhat smartly, but in the same way one would if they mixed formal wear with a huntsman outfit. The tattered red cloak on his back certainly showed signs of having seen some battles for sure.

However, what gave Nero pause were his eyes.

They were dull, yes, but that didn't hide anything. The red eyes looked at him, completely unaware of the picture they summoned in Nero's mind. The black hair, black and red color pallet – if mixed with some white and gray – and the red eyes. There was only one person that came to mind with that and this man looked disturbingly similar.

This person could only be…

"Cat got your tongue, Little Bird?"

"Qrow Branwen," Nero muttered, drawing an amused and pleased expression to the huntsman.

"I see my reputation precedes me," the man said, straightening his back and puffing out his chest in joking smugness. "Now, does that mean you'll be a little less evasive now because I could pay more for a fa-"

"I wouldn't tell you the color of the sky for all the money in the world," Nero said, his voice cold as the northernmost part of Solitas. "Junior! Can you get me another? Something I can take with me. I'm leaving."

"Now, what's the matter?" Branwen said, going to stand up when Nero did.

"The strong live and the weak die," he hissed. If it weren't for his semblance, he wouldn't have noticed the huntsman stiffening ever so slightly, but he did. "That's what your sister said before putting her sword through my father's chest," he said, blue eyes glaring at red ones. "That's the matter, Branwen."

With that said, he took the plastic cup that Junior passed him and then turned to leave.

Branwen didn't follow, thankfully.

'I think I'll go see if I can find some grimm to shoot,' Nero thought to himself, hand already twitching to pull out Fall.

[} Chapter End {]

Adrian: You know me, guys. It's all about setting up the characters, the setting… so that they can exercise their free will and mess up all my plans. Such is my life and my existence, just suffering.

Arc: At the very least you have me to take half of the suffering here. Either way, with this we get a bit more exposition about our characters, we are trying to flesh them out at our own pace before sending them to Beacon and the start of canon. Believe it or not, RWBY is quite fast-paced when you take the timeline into account. Less than a year before a quarter of the world population is deep into a doomsday scenario.

Adrian: You know, fun stuff, but we have to build things up a little more before everything comes crashing down. It'll make it all extra fun, I'm sure.

Arc: With that said, we truly hope that you enjoy the chapter and make sure to leave a comment or two for us if you have the time.

Random Question: What do you think these two's teams will be like? The plan is for them to be together, if maybe not partners. But… Well, anyone that knows me knows how well my plans go…

Discord Link: discord .gg/UTDransjJZ