A Grey-Haired Boy

Prologue:The New Man

Vale, shopping district.

Amidst the buildings and city blocks of one of the four Kingdoms' capitals, a team of four young women from a certain academy walked together on a trip to the grocery shop. It was proving to be a normal day in the city of Vale, with the two of the four chasing each-other after one with red highlights and short hair took a picture of another with white hair without said white-haired one's permission.

These four young women were team RWBY. Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna and Yang Xiao-Long. Ruby and Weiss were colored as their namesakes implied, even in the weirdly alien language that Weiss was named in. Blake and Yang, meanwhile, were a bit more strangely named, but they still hinted at colors, much like the Color-Naming Rule of the world of Remnant had requested.

Yang watched with a grin as an angry Weiss chased Ruby, who held a scroll in one hand and laughed jovially. Blake, meanwhile, read a book as they walked, murmuring, "Seems like they're never going to change..." barely audibly enough for Yang to hear. The blonde snickered, grinning ear-to-ear still as she crossed her arms under her fairly well-developed chest.

She replied, "I really hope they don't. It's fun to see Weiss Cream be like that."

Blake chuckled, pushing a strand of her black hair out of her auburn eyes. She stowed her book in her bag as they walked. She told Yang, "You know, you really should get Ruby to settle down. Schnees aren't known to be particularly patient with... Anyone, really," with a little worry. Yang let out another snort and waved it off, fairly aware of how abrasive Schnees supposedly were. Even with that in mind, Weiss had somewhat started opening up to them as of late, after a talk with Prof Port, apparently.

"Eh, Ruby's fine. Weiss'll start liking her," The blonde then quipped.

The black-haired, bow-wearing girl shrugged, unsure if the way Yang saw things was possible. Weiss was a Schnee after all. It wasn't like them to easily 'warm up' to anyone, she thought as they kept walking. She sighed, watching the two become a little rowdier, then said to Yang, "Catch up with us when you can," before booking it. Yang, to her credit, had turned toward Blake just as she'd stepped off. She was 'window shopping' (ogling) some of the cakes at a candy store and mentally cursing the fact she couldn't eat any due to her training when Blake had run off.

She rolled her eyes, grinning, and was about to take off running to join the girls in the grocery store. Was. The cracking thunder of several trash bins being knocked over in the alley next to her. Her heart had also nearly jumped out of her chest at that sound. She swiveled about to it, preparing to grab her shotgun bracelets, Ember Celica, out of her bag to meet a possible assailant. Or just punch their lights out if they were a bum.

A bum, they were not, though. Yang stared, eyes wide and mouth agape, at a man clad in a speckled forest camouflage gear set. A helmet, body armor, the uniform shirt and pants. The only things not bearing the camouflage pattern were his gun, which was a matte black, thick-looking machine gun with a box and belt feed system and the two extra boxes he hauled on his side, plus the sidearm in a holster on his thigh.

Hunched over and on all fours, the man breathed raggedly, dark-green fumes pouring through a balaclava-style mask near the mouth. His tinted goggles seemed to fog up for a moment as he slowly craned his head up. He swallowed, coughed and gagged... And while Yang would've normally made a joke in any situation where someone looked as drunk as this guy seemed to be, something in her gut told her those fumes weren't from alcohol.

She asked him warily, "You okay, man...?"

He breathed and tried to speak, but couldn't. One hand lifted off the floor and waved toward her, showing her to stay away. As he gagged again, he undid his helmet's strap and tossed it aside, then took his mask off and retched on the floor, a coagulated mess. He shook his head and wiped his mouth, then covered his nose with his hands and took a canteen off his belt, downing half the contents in four chugs.