Prologue

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It all started on a night like any other. The stars were bright and the luster of the shattered moon shone a calm silver over the city of Vale. All seemed normal at first, but it wouldn't end that way.


A group of well-dressed men carrying briefcases walked into a local dust shop. They were followed by a taller, lean fellow in a mask. His hair was a mix of red and brown. It can be assumed he was a Faunus, judging by what seemed to be a pair of small horns on top of his head. He wore a black, long-tailed coat with a red rose design on the back and a sheathed sword on his hip.


As they entered the store, the owner at the desk tensed nervously. He knew what these men wanted. As of late, dust shops throughout the kingdom had been ransacked. Shipments of dust and crystals inexplicably vanished. He figured the group responsible would come to him eventually. Now, he stood at his register, the fear plainly shown on his face, as the men set their cases on the counter-top and demanded the crystals on display.


As the man surrendered the crystals, several of the thieves went further into the store toward the dust dispensers to fill a number of canisters. One of them looked to his right and noticed a young man, probably in his late teens, browsing over a shelf of CDs in the corner.


He was dressed in all black except for his neon blue t-shirt; black jeans, black combat boots, and a heavy leather jacket with a hood. He stood with his back facing the thieves. Seemingly oblivious to the situation behind him.


The thief walked over and addressed the boy roughly. "Hey! Turn around slowly, and keep your hands where I can see 'em."


The young man didn't turn around but peered behind him over his right shoulder. His long, black hair was a messy comb-over, masking part of the right side of his face, but the thief could tell he had an eyebrow raised questioningly. "Excuse me?" he asked, clearly annoyed.


The thief responded by chambering a round in his pistol and pointing it at the boy's back. "I said, turn around slowly and keep your hands where I can see them." He waited impatiently as the young man hung his head and let out a long, deep breath, visibly relaxing his shoulders.


"It's not polite to point a loaded weapon at someone."


The crook didn't have any time to react before a boot connected with his chest, knocking him across the shop and straight through the front windows. His comrades at the front could only stand in shock as they watched the boy swagger past them and out the door. The masked ringleader's face curled in a snarl before signaling his men to pursue.


The boy had only gotten a few paces from the store when he noticed the thieves coming for him. He turned around, confident but annoyed. "What?! You got a problem?!"


He was answered by the sound of rounds being chambered. "Alright. Fine. If that's how you wanna play, I'll play."


He proceeded to remove his heavy jacket, tossing it to the side. His 6-ft frame was much clearer defined under the light of the moon. His tight shirt showed off the strong, lean form of his arms, shoulders, and chest, and his (eye color) eyes shined brilliantly in the night. He reached behind him into his beltline and pulled out a pair of handcrafted pistols which, with the flip of a switch unfolded into a pair of katanas. He took up a battle stance, and his razor sharp blades shone a dark azure hue in the moonlight. "Come and get it, boys!"

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