Forgotten Remnants

3

The CCT network, a truly miraculous invention that had allowed mankind to come together all across Remnant. Making it possible for someone in one side of the world to hold a conversation with someone on the other side of it.
A miraculous technology, bridging the gap between peoples, a technology most used to upload pictures of their pets, food, or to stream video of themselves doing silly things.
Such was considered premier entertainment, depending on finding a diamond in the rough, of course. It was with such expectation that a few dozen users logged in to the stream of one 'Bumjunknowhereandproud' after all, videos uploaded by people who lived outside the cities were usually the most entertaining.
They logged in to a scene of horror. The scroll's camera focusing on the torn remains of people. They could hear screams and gunfire, and the throaty roar of grimm.
"The hell are you doing!?" screamed a voice, the camera shifted and focused on someone who was clearly a Huntsman, he had an assault rifle pressed to his shoulder. "Fall back! We can't hold-"
He never got to finish as a Nevermore swooped by and carried him off, screaming all the while.
In seconds, the dozens that had been watching the video became hundreds.
The person holding the camera ran, aiming the scroll behind them as they took flight, shakily showing a horde of grimm hundreds strong, the viewership grew to the thousands. All across the four kingdoms people tuned in to watch a town's final moments.
"It was bandits!" panted a feminine voice, the scroll's owner. "Those bastards! They brought the grimm!"
The video showed a large square stone building, a sign above the sturdy door declared it to be 'The Thirsty Stone.'
News programs interrupted content to show the young woman's stream. Four nations watched enraptured as people streamed into the inn and began to close its doors.
"Wait!" came the streamer's plaintive plea. But she went ignored or unheard as the door slammed shut mere seconds before she reached relative safety.
She pounded on the doors, at first pleading, then deriving those inside as cowards.
Negative feeling skyrocketed through the kingdoms. Many tuning out of the stream, others tried to shut it off, but there was no unity in the attempt, many of those who would be needed for the procedure sitting enraptured by the video.
She turned to stare at the coming horde, a teeming sea of black that boiled forward, a thunderous growl of hatred shaking the walls of the buildings as the monsters neared. A singularly fast beowulf outran the wave with considerable speed.
It closed the distance in the blink of an eye, leaping at the streamer. She screamed, a bloodcurdling howl of fear, anger, and most horrifying of all...Acceptance.
And then a small body crashed on top of the leaping grimm, driving a cruel red spear through its head and driving it deep into the soil. The beowulf didn't so much as twitch.
The people watching the stream could see by the figure's size that they couldn't be more than a child, using a spear three times longer than they were tall. Said child didn't turn to look at the camera. They stood straight backed and square soldered, facing down the coming grimm.
The child was dressed in black pants, over them he wore a dark red open skirt that ended just above his shins. His torso was armored with what appeared to be scale mail armor, he was wearing a half cape of a color much like the skirt, fashioned into a hood.
"Trace bullet!" he said, his voice clear as a clarinet. Blue/green lines shone brightly in his arms, and above him the air sparkled to life with blue sparks.
"Unceasing targeted barrage!" he screamed. The sparks above him coalesced into weapons. Swords.
Those with an eye for them could see that each weapon was unique, a ceremonial blade floating next to a rusted machete with a grip of duct tape, a master crafted sword hung suspended next to a butcher's cleaver, kitchen knives hovered next to rapiers of fine make. At first five, then a dozen, then three dozens, then more. The video panned up and to the sides, the sheer number of floating blades was staggering.
"Gatling fire!" he screamed, and the weapons began to fall. But it wasn't a gentle clatter. Each of the weapons slammed down as if shot down the barrel of a gun. The air rippled with the sound of dozens upon dozens of projectiles shattering the sound barrier. New swords appearing to replace those shot. The grimm began to melt.
It was as if a line had been drawn across the ground, a line no grimm was allowed to cross. Any grimm that reached it fell. Sometimes transfixed by a single weapon that had stabbed itself through the monster's head, sometimes stabbed by so many weapons that the grimm was invisible beneath them.
Out of that onslaught crashed a massive Deathstalker, an ancient one, large enough to cover the entire street from one end to the other. Swords shattering against its carapace, a precious few barely managing to sink a fraction of an inch into its bleached bone chitin.
The boy raised his arms, the lines running among them blazed white, black and white scimitars began to rain down on the Deathstalker. Sinking into its chitin to the grip, covering it until it resembled a pincushion more than a scorpion. But it scuttled on.
The boy's breath came in quick, short gasps, his entire frame trembling. He took a deep, heaving breath, and screamed. "Burst!"
There was a sickening squelching crunch, and the Deathstalker fell to the ground, skidding several feet. As it began to dissipate, the camera caught the swords, they had somehow elongated, resembling enormous bladed wings.
In that instant the grimm avalanche was brought to a complete halt, they clambered and bayed as they began to retreat. In moments the horde was decimated several times over. But the barrage didn't halt, if anything it intensified.
From what the video showed, not a single grimm was able to retreat more than a few yards before being overwhelmed. The boy fell to his knees, heaving rasping breaths.
Just like that all the anger, hatred and despair that had been felt across the kingdoms was replaced by a surge of hope. Hope that the dark could be turned back, that the day could be saved.
The hand holding the scroll was shaking, in awe or relief or a mixture of the two it was impossible to tell. The little form turned around, seemingly staring straight at the camera with burning intensity.
The hood threw shadows across his head, a half-mask covering his face from the nose down.
He pushed himself to his feet on shaky legs, and walked to the camera, the streamer babbling as he approached. He stopped directly in front of the camera, giving the four kingdoms a very high quality image of his mask. It was only thanks to a trick of the light that his eyes were visible.
Two orbs of burnished gold.
He reached past the view of the camera toward the scroll's owner.
"W-W-What're you doing!?" said the streamer as the boy did something. Then with an annoyed sounding huff, he stood and took a few steps back, dropping his hand to his side.
"Not her," he muttered.
Then a black and red blur with a long raven mane picked up the child by the waist, tucked him under an arm and took off down the street. An enraged cry of 'Damn kids!' floated down to the camera a few moments later.
The woman in red jumped up to a roof, and was gone.
The scroll's owner mutely stood and took a few steps toward the roof where the boy had disappeared. Then, the field of swords began to dissipate into a flurry of golden motes of light.
For a moment there was silence as the entire world held its collective breath. Before the moment was broken by the streamer's relieved, incredulous, slightly manic laughter. An instant later, 'Bumjunknowhereandproud' logged off.
The uproar was immediate.
Demands for more were made, uselessly refreshing the page in hopes of a resumed stream. Others began to analyze the video itself, some calling into question its legitimacy, others angrily defending it.
A singular question was on everyone's lips however. "What kind of Semblance was that?"
On top of the tallest tower of Beacon academy in Vale, a grey haired man stared at his blank scroll in seeming boredom. The hot chocolate in his hand forgotten.
Mutely he brought up his contact list and pressed a button.
"Qrow?" he said the moment the call connected.
"Yes I'm aware. Yes…yes. I'm sorry Qrow. But I need…" he sighed, knowing full well this was a very bad time. "I need you to track down your sister, it's extremely important."
=][=
Raven sighed as she made her way through the gates of the camp. She was greeted by a lot of sullen stares, and a few surprised ones, looking at the apathetic redheaded kid she was carrying like a sack of potatoes.
"Alright people you know the drill." she called out. "Stow your gear, get ready to pack up camp. We leave at first light."
There were groans and grumbles she saw Vernal approaching her.
"Raven," Vernal said falling into step next to her with a nod, sparing the kid a quick look before turning back to her. "Glad to see you back, we were starting to worry."
Raven snorted. "What's the butcher's bill?"
Vernal grimaced. "Three dead, ten wounded, three gravely. Most of those from our better fighters."
Raven closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her free hand. A full third of the raiding force. "Who bit it?"
"Joey, Greene, and Violet." Vernal answered.
Raven clicked her tongue. Three of their best. But the best of the tribe were not the equivalent of Huntsmen. She felt the bundle of stupid shift, and she secured her grip more tightly, causing him to grunt in discomfort, he did not however, give up.
"What's with the kid?" Vernal finally asked.
"The reason I'm late," Raven ground out, and Vernal wisely did not ask for more.
Never would she have thought that the seven surviving Huntsmen and Huntresses would up and start chasing her. Demanding she "Give back the Sword Child!"
Not to mention mister 'sword child' wiggling non-stop. Apparently he wanted to check out the Huntresses to see if 'one of them is the green eyed girl.'
He'd not begun to be cooperative until she'd taken the time to make sure none of the Huntresses had green eyes.
The seven Huntsmen taking potshots at her the whole while had only served to irritate her further.
"I'll be in my tent," she said. "Bring me the usual lists."
Vernal nodded and went her own way, Raven made note of the tribesmen nursing wounds or looking at her resentfully. Chances were she'd need to make a few examples.
She ducked into her tent with a grateful sigh. Her rugs, cushions, beads, and other accoutrements were more than most of the tribe got to have, but then again, she was both the strongest warrior in the tribe as well as the leader.
She threw the little sack of stupid onto a cushion. Rather than sprawl as she'd expected, he landed gracefully and rolled a few times to disperse the momentum of her throw. Too bad.
She stepped up to him as he righted himself and loomed over him.
"Alright kid, here's how it's gonna be," she growled. "From now on you're a member of this tribe. That means you do what I say, when I say,because I said. If I tell you to jump off a cliff, I want to see you diving down it before I've finished the order.
"From now on, you think of Tribe first, me second, yourself last. You'll be clothed and fed, you'll have a tent over your head. This isn't a charity however. You'll have to help, you'll clean, work, forage, whatever you can do to help.
"You're clearly competent enough in a fight, but you won't get to do that until and unless I decide you're ready. Until then, Tribe. First. Understood!?"
"Okay," he said easily. Not once through her whole speech did his eyes show anything other than polite indifference. "Can I go through the camp and see if I find her here?"
"No," she said. If she set the idiot kid loose in the camp right now, chances were one of the idiots would try to put him in his place. And she didn't want to have to fix the camp if the kid decided to pincushion it.
"Okay," he said, his eyes showing mild annoyance for a brief moment.
He looked around the tent, at her decorations, rugs, the few skulls of animals she had hunted and kept because they gave her a challenge. She tried to think of something to talk about.
"So uhh…how did you unlock your Semblance?" she asked.
Shirou blinked. "What's a Semblance?"
Raven pinched the bridge of her nose. "The thing you did with the swords, that's a Semblance."
"Oh…okay." he said.
She waited. When it became obvious he wouldn't answer she asked again.
"I don't remember," he said. "The first thing I remember is…the green eyed girl, and the purple mister. But when I woke up on the town I just…knew how to do it."
Purple. Mister. Great, he wasn't past the imaginary friend phase.
The two of them fell quiet. As the silence between them stretched into its second minute, Raven was forced to accept the fact she had no idea how to talk to kids. He had even begun staring unblinkingly at a corner of the tent.
She growled, scratched her head and sat down at her table. Belatedly, Vernal brought her a scroll with the lists she'd requested.
The take from the raid had been less than stellar, but rationed correctly it should let them eke by. The list of the wounded was more worrisome. The lightly wounded should be fine by the morning, but the three who were grave were in trouble, since they weren't exactly overflowing with medical supplies.
She felt something pulling at her hair. She looked behind her to find the kid brushing her hair with a brush she didn't recognize. He would take a handful of her hair and run the brush meticulously through it until it flowed easily through the raven locks. He'd then grab another handful and repeat the process.
In all honesty, the closest she came to styling her hair was tying some of it so it'd stay out of the way.
"What are you doing?" she demanded after a while.
He frowned, glaring at her hair as if it was hiding something from him, his hands did not once stop their gentle motion. "I'm not sure…but…it feels right."
Raven stared at him work for a while before shrugging and turning back to her work. "Knock yourself out kid."
She didn't feel quite so balsé about it as she made herself sound. She didn't often let someone that particularly close, especially to her back. But if it kept the kid quiet and out of the way…
She became more aware of her hair than usual, feeling every stroke of the brush and hearing every knot that was unraveled. But he never pulled on her hair hard enough to cause pain. He must've practiced on a sister or something.
She wondered who this 'green eyed girl' of his was. Perhaps that was the key to keeping him in line? Yes he could be an asset, but only if she found a way to keep him around, and she didn't think that the promise of food and shelter would be enough.
Speaking of food…next to none of the supplies taken during the raid were edible. Though they'd managed to nab dust and a good amount of lien. If they could find a town willing to trade with them…
The kid carefully and meticulously brushed her hair through the entire time she worked. His careful ministrations were strangely relaxing.
Eventually, when he could run the brush from the back of her head down the entire length of her hair smoothly, he stopped. The sudden cessation causing goosebumps to break out across her arms.
He looked over her shoulder at the scroll and stared at it unblinkingly. Raven in turn watched him.
"I can't read," he said after a moment. "Why can't I read?"
He then stared harder at the words on the scroll, as if that would make them give up their secrets. Raven pondered, teaching him to read and write would mean he owed her, but that would also facilitate his search for this green eyed girl. Not to mention broadening his horizons too much would make it likelier that he wouldn't stick around.
She recalled that storm of blades. That type of power was useful, too useful to let someone else have it. The question is, how…
"Look kid," she said, deciding on the spot. "I can help you find this girl you're looking for."
He turned his eyes on her, a fevered light shining from them as they bore into her own. Twin pools of molten gold that threatened to immolate her. Raven would be the first to admit she knew nothing about kids, but even she could tell that a kid should not have eyes like that.
"I can make portals with my Semblance," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "I can be in any of the continents in a second. With that, you'd be able to cast a wider net."
His brow furrowed in thought as he digested that.
"But that doesn't come cheap," she continued, "You'll have to prove yourself if you want me to give you that privilege."
"What do you want me to do?" he asked immediately.
Raven had to work really hard not to smirk. And just like that, she had won herself a little assassin. He'd just need to be handled right for a few years.
"I told you already," she said, flicking him on the forehead, hard. He didn't so much as flinch. "Tribe first. Me second. Yourself a distant last. Now be quiet, I need to think of something to resolve the food situation."
"You're short on food?" he asked.
She nodded as she turned back to the scroll, and she heard him shuffle back. Administrative work was not her favorite, but she couldn't trust anyone else with it. If it got out how strapped for resources the tribe was…
She only realized how much time had passed when she'd finished her second pot of tea. She sat back and stretched, her back popping several times causing her to grunt and sigh. She looked around for the kid, thinking to find him on a corner staring at the wall, or maybe curled up asleep on a cushion.
He wasn't in the tent.
She threw herself out of her tent with a curse, the camp wasn't that big, he couldn't have gone far. She saw the gates to the camp open, and he walked in, dragging a deer that was several times bigger than him.
His amber eyes locked on her red ones. He ignored every question put to him, and when one of the tribesmen tried to stop him, a sword appeared over his shoulder and slammed itself pommel first into the bandit's stomach, hard enough to send him tumbling through a tent.
Shirou walked until he was standing directly in front of her, tilting his head back to look into her eyes. He heaved and plopped the deer carcass down in front of her.
"I think I can cook it too," he said, his voice a little strained. "Can I use the Semblance yet?"
She looked at the deer. It had been killed by a single attack that had all but obliterated the head, leaving the meat unspoiled.
A perfect little assassin indeed.
"No," she told him. "But it's a step in the right direction."