The Summoner of Nothingness: Organization 13 Summoner Male Reader x RWBY Harem

Prologue: Null Trailer

Hello and welcome back ladies and gents to The Summoner of Nothingness! With both the Bio and Harem chapter in the rearview mirror it is now time to rewind the metaphorical clock and view Y,N's life before....the mission. Back before everything changed, back before he fled the Black Claw alongside Blake, and back when his powers were fully utilized in ways of bloody torture and assassination rather than helping or protecting others. Back during the days of loyal, nearly unquestioning service towards what he believed was the only path towards equality, Y,N's black coat was truly synonymous with death. Yet, while Y,N has attempted his best to bury these and any other memories of his previous occupation underneath layers of stoicism and denial, no one can run away from their memories forever, they are eternally linked to one's mind and being. Anyway, I'm your host of the night or day, OverlordAKX, and I don't own anything besides my account, this idea, and my OC's. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the Prologue chapter! Without further ado, let's take a trip down memory lane!

No POV, Location: Cerulean Heights(Three months before the mission, Eight months before Volume 1)

*It was a dark, hot summer's night in Cerulean Heights, a luxurious residential area situated atop a hill that consisted of lavish houses that towered over Vale's main city. Given its geographical superiority over the city which dwelled below, it would be no surprise that this place where the rich and elite Faunus of Vale's society lived, laughed, and partied with one another, all while Faunus on the lower pegs of the social hierarchy, and most importantly, humanity, suffered. While others laughed and lived away their lives with no worry or doubt, humans were forced to lurk in the shadows or risk being placed firmly underneath the mighty boot of a Faunus. Even in the best of circumstances, humans were still viewed as nothing more than indispensable, unimportant, worthless secondary citizens, the type that could be used, abused, and thrown aside with no hassle. Meanwhile, these fat cats, sometimes literally, lived wealthy and pampered lives like the kings of old. They didn't have to worry about money, they didn't have to worry about prejudice, they didn't suffer glares and mumbled whisperers of poorly concealed hatred, they didn't have to worry about being proverbially, and sometimes literally, getting crushed underneath someone's boot, they were perfectly secure and had everything handed to them on a silver platter. It would make any self-respecting human's stomach turn and make them want to watch as these arrogant, self-centered, human-loathing assholes were slowly dissected. Barry Zarr, a pig Faunus and head CEO of the Zarr Dust Conglomeration, was a perfect example of everything humanity hated from someone in his lofty position. He looked down at humanity like filthy swine, quite ironic for him, and treated them like miserable sacks of flesh that either needed to be removed from the equation or be used for cheap, cruel, and dangerous labor. Yet hardly anyone knew about these vile acts due to two important factors: his firm position in the social hierarchy and his infectious charisma. Those factors served as perfect guardians that allowed Zarr to continue his actions without the threat of consequence or widespread public ridicule. Alas, Zarr's putrid actions had not gone unnoticed by everyone; while most turned a blind eye to these actions or were completely unaware of the monster that lay behind that picturesque smile, others knew about the hideous beast that lurked and made it their mission to eliminate him once and for all. Some had gotten close, including several previous Black Claw assaults, yet none were successful due to one reason or another. Whether it was Zarr paying his killer off, his security team being too tough to crack, or something else, the faunus always had a proverbial shield around him. But little did Zarr know on this fateful night, as the shattered moon dully hung in the sky and the summer's air lingered pleasantly, that his mortal coil was about to be plucked by an entity even more intimidating than any known Grimm in existence. Zarr was now being targeted by a human whose methods were equally brutal and effective. The infamous black cloak of death was descending upon this wicked soul, and none could stop it from snatching the little piggy into its cold, callous clutches.*