RWBY: The Dismal Demon

Prologue

Prologue

The streets of Vale are flooded with the nonstop rain pouring down on the city. Plenty of puddles have formed along the streets and on sidewalks to dampen one's shoes and day. The street lights flicker to gift an uncomfortable aura for those who're unfortunate enough to walk through the city. Walking around at night is already hazardous enough. Sure, the Grimm skulk around the world but another fearful breed can infiltrate the Kingdoms without notice. People would feel safer if the lights were persistent, but those forces enjoy watching humans and Faunus scream and run. One man treks his way through the rain, making his way to the rougher part of Vale. You can hear the bumping of a beat echoing through the street, the echoes of people's laughs and cheers managing to reach his ears.

Your clothes, a simple, flowing purple coat with a strong collar to hide your neck, yet barely passing your jawline, and sleeves cutting off at the wrists. The coat is simple on the outside, only having some golden buttons running down the front with woven engravings reaching shin level. The inside, a tad brighter, has its own set of engravings that remains hidden from the world. Beneath the coat is a blue dress shirt that shares similar designs to the coat – having a prominent collar that wraps almost all the way around the next and designs weaving along and around the done up buttons. The shirt is tucked into a slate coloured pair of jeans that are held sturdy by a makeshift belt that doubles as a holster – the guns being hidden by the coat. Your boots, a complimenting brown, are just short of his ankles with buckles to keep them tight.

Despite the unrelenting rain, you press on until you reach the source of these loud sounds. You've heard of this from your brother – a popular entertainment spot for humans and... other creatures looking for some fun. The building's layout blocks any rain from falling on you, giving you the opportunity to run your hand into your snow-white hair and violently shake the water out. It's not a foolproof tactic, but it stops it from dripping incessantly. The same can't be done for your coat, however, but that's just something you'll have to live with. You push open the door and experience the full force of the music, lights, and voices. Non-stop upon your arrival, but a guard, one dressed in a black suit with a matching hat, red glasses, shoes, and a nice red tie, steps in your way.

"Not here to make trouble, are ya, buddy?" He gruff voice is so clearly forced that you almost laugh.

"Depends on what you consider trouble," you brush off your coat, flinging small droplets around you. You look back to him, his glare unmoving. "No, I'm not here to make trouble."

"Eh... you look like it."

"I can look like a lot of things. Doubt you look like a guard all day."

He grunts as he steps back. "Got my eye on you."

"I feel so safe," you roll your eyes and move deeper into the booming building. Your eyes scour the customers and party goers, looking for something that catches your fancy.

That fancy comes when you approach the bar, seeing two young ladies who look similar with different colour schemes.

"Hm... déjà vu... and yet," they're sitting with two patrons, obviously attempting to drain their wallets with flirtation. "Heh... potluck," you reaffirm to yourself.

Without directly being noticed, you take a seat and watch the four of interest for at least two minutes. Good for your work but bad on customer service. A man, dressed differently from the others, approaches you. He has a long sleeve, white dress shirt with a black vest overtop and a red tie snuggled between them. His pants are black along with his gloves. His hair is short on top with it connecting via sideburns down to a trimmed beard and moustache.