The moment she had pulled out her weapon, Silme had a shortsword in hand, his body tensed at the possibility of combat, only to just as quickly sheate it when he realized what she was doing. At her comment, he simply scoffed in response.
"Hardly, I don't deal in used go-AAAGGHHH!" Silmr retort was cut short due to him findingly his footing compromised by a thin sheet of ice that had defineteky not been there before. The fall brought with it a barrage of graphic curses pointed Mikoto's way, all of which involved violence, insertion of sharp, barbed, and/or spiky objects into unmentionable, and ocer all announcung just how badly he was going to kick her washboard chest, cop or no cop. By the time he had finished his rant, he was getting and preparing to give her a very in-depth demonstration of his skills on her, when there scrolls suddenly began ringing.
Giving the cadet a single glare filled with all of his rafe and contempt for her, he turned his attention to the text, gritting his teeth as he felt his anger reach it's boiling point. Once he was done reading, he slipped it back into his pocket before walking off, making a motion for her to follow.
"Come on and hurry your slow ass up. I know where we're going, and I want to get there sooner rather than later. I'm pissed off to hell, and since I can't take it out on you yet, then whoever ends up facing me in the ring is going to get the ass kicking of a lifetime."
With that said, he made his way forward, sending a small, nearly unoticeable amount of his Semblance into his feet, just incase she tried to pull the same trick twice. Eventually they'd reach one of the airships up to the Arena, where Silme would nearly get into fights with no less than 10 people, his mood soured by Mikoto's presence and his inability to break that smug face of her's. They'd eventually meet up with Amari in prep room X, Silme annoucing his displeasure and arrival by kicking the door open so hard, it nearly flew off it's hinges.
"Why didn't you tell me we'd already got a replacement for our previous waste of space, or that she was such a goddamn annoyance."
Despite his voice not lowering at all and his demeanor not getting any better, Mikoto would probably notice that Silme had said only a single vulgarity in that whole sentence, and had denied to call her any of the various other obscenities he'd had no problem screaming at her before.
Smug face it was indeed. With every swearword, every curse Mikoto's grin grew wider and more amused. It vanished though when her scroll announced a message. Unknown number, but it appeared it was somebody from 'her team'. What? Where did they even get my number? She did not appreciate the headmaster giving out her number to strangers without her knowing. Well, at least the stranger was actually helpful unlike her present company.
She had a sickening pit in her stomach when Silme motioned for her to follow. "Who's we?" she asked worriedly. Both of them getting the message at the same time on top? Ancestors, have mercy. You mean to tell me we are on the same team? I want a refund! she made a disgusted gesture, pulling away from Silme.
To say the mood on the airship was gloomy would be a monumental understatement. If she didn't sheath her weapons, her aura might have spontaneously set the dust off to create a personal rain cloud above her head. Airships were her personal hell. With wings that large, she had to keep them in the harness as not to take five spaces, or she had to stand the whole way. Hoping the trip would be short, she quickly visited the bathroom on the airport and swapped her coat for the battledress.
With her extra appendages finally free of abuse, she stood near one of the panoramic windows on the airship, at the very least enjoying the scenery outside, seemingly content with her and Silme leaving each other to their misery for the moment.
Her mood hit the rock bottom when Silme headed to the same prep room as herself, but skyrocketed shortly after the door opened. It took a moment to realize why that face and blue mane looked familiar. She was worried that the rest of the team would be similar to the git who brought her here, but alas, not the case. "Amari Cross? What are the odds!"
I've been completely engulfed by some powder. It's everywhere. It's in my eyes. It's in my hair. It's in my nose. It's in my mouth. It's all over my clothes. It's eeeurrggh. Thanks to that git I've turned into some rainbow monstrosity. I knew I shouldn't have come here, but nooo, it's for the good of the school, they said. Have gun, will travel, they said. Meet new friends and create new, powerful bonds with foreign huntsmen and huntresses to promote international goodwill, they said.
Idealistic crock.
Look at me now, headmistress. Look at me. Look at how the world's still against me.
All people want to do is to make themselves happy, even if it involves ruining the day of others. Like me.
I sneeze. The powder irritates my eyes. Some of it splatters around my cheeks. I let down my guard too much. I really shouldn't have expected this entire useless festival to be anything different. Mecha lass wants to sell her soul to capitalism, I've met up with a ghost from the 80s, I need a change of clothes, and I still don't have some bloody noodles.
The world's out to get me.
It's ... it's not like I'm bothered geez but this is too much.
The U in TSUN hung up on the N's phone, given that she'd gotten an answering machine. No point in keeping it going. She spied her leader out of the corner of her eye and, after a moment's pause, flicked open the clasp on her messenger bag and started rummaging through it. She still didn't look over at her boss, but after a few moments of aggravated searching, she yanked out a long, soft white scarf and shoved it into her leader's hand forcefully. "Clean yourself up, boss, best you can. You look like a fucking rainbow, and your sneezes look like they got out of a Skittles factory."
"Toss the damn scarf when you're done. Was last season, anyway." The bag clicked closed and she kept walking towards the airships, with a certain undercurrent of energy to her pace. "I'm gonna fucking kill that guy, Cirsium. The Kawa one. He's fucking dead. Beat the other one, too, just to feel better."
Kawaguchi Umeko (folks from where she's from do their clan names first) looks like a helpful and kind lass. She acts like a helpful and kind lass. The popular gal, the fashionista, the bubbly bonnie with an ego who couldn't possibly be so rude and malicious to people she's just met. She's a nice person, you might think. She wouldn't purposely seek to crush people under her nine-inch robot heels before skewering them like a sausage on a stick, would she? You must be crazy, Teàrlag!
I don't blame you. In fact, even I was caught up in the lie, even when I should have really known better.
You see, everybody in this world is pretty superficial, myself and Umeko included. We only show people what we want them to see, hiding up every other piece o' nasty bizzo behind some façade. People are natural liars. They're always lying. I think it's called a persona, a "social mask" that's been designed to make an impression on others and to hide our true natures. You can't tell what somebody's really like from their face. You only get the cover, the mask. Everyone's just playing charades, pretending to be something so that we're not to get ahead.
We all want the truth, the genuine article, but it's a worldwide hypocrisy. There's never going to be a truth.
They're always lying to you, even when they don't think they are.
Shame.
I think this world would be better if people admitted they were lying.
But really ... it's not a completely bad thing. It's how you survive in society, how you manoeuvre around all these tribes and in-groups and out-groups without making a bugger outta yourself. It's a cutthroat world of animals and sweet talk and whatever. You have to master being shallow, brittle and conformist to get ahead.
That's what people do.
Even me, no matter how much I want to undergo individuation.
Anyway, Kawaguchi Umeko.
She's an angry lass.
I grip onto her scarf tightly, moving it up to wipe as much of the rainbow powder off my face. As if I'm removing a mask like she's just done. That happy go-lucky, shallow popular gal vibe she's got? A lot of that's a lie. You don't see the real her. Maybe that might be nicer for you, because the real her's pretty angry. She's some sorta ... weird tsundere or something.
Not that I know what a tsundere is or anything. It's not like I watch anime.
Even annoying her just a tad is a bad idea, mate.
I don't like that colourful bloke either but it's like the guy's run over her pet Faunus or something. Do Atlesians have pet Faunuses? The Schnees probably do. A few words exchanged, and I think she's already on a rampage. I guess that's how it works. Look weirdly at the wrong person and even they'll crush you no matter how vapid the offense seems. Supersize that, and you get society.
"I appreciate the sentiment," came the even-keeled voice from the other end of the line, "but I just got up here. Going back down in so ignoble a fashion would, in frank terms, be absolutely unacceptable even for a loyal manservant, much less myself."
The line was rudely clicked shut, but the words continued, this time much less distorted by frequency limitations that not even the gaudiest scroll could avoid. The door, for it's part, found itself once more ceremoniously opened, revealing a tall, strong man with a mostly-clean and kempt head of blonde hair, and eyes reminiscent of the sea they'd crossed to get here.
Resting his cane upon wall adjacent to the door, he slid the scroll in a specialized pocket before seating himself.
"I do look forward to seeing how the locomotive flies, though. Tarik will have absolutely outdone himself this time."
It was rather fortunate that Burgundy and Albus had boarded the same bullhead for the stadium. Two two had their calm conversations about how the tournament was going to go down and who was going to go with who when they advanced, but it was all cut too short when they arrived to the stadium they had both been waiting for.
Burgundy didn't mind their heights too much, and pulled Albus along a safe distance away so that they could both wait for the other half of their team.
While in truth the length of time between the arrival of Tawne and Echo, and the arrival of Albus and Burgundy might not have been so great, neither of the first pair were blessed with patience. Therefore, when confronted by their remaining teammates after a painfully boring wait and not in the least bit consoled by a flashy entrance, tasty snack, or festival prize, neither Echo nor Tawne appeared particularly thrilled. The latter, naturally, spoke first. ”Jeez! Did you not get the memo? Or the announcement? Can you even hear me right now? If not, say nothing.”
He stroked his chin and waited, pensive. Albus rolled his eyes. “Get off it, Tawne. It took a minute to find an airship. And this…this thing happened.” Discretely he looked left and right, as if a single soul in the landing bay of Amity Colosseum might be even the slightest bit interested in what he had to say. “I’ll tell you later.”
Shrugging, Tawne turned to Burgundy. “You didn’t lead my buddy astray, didja, miss mouth? Whatever, you can say sorry later. Right now we have a coupla things to attend to before we go to the arena. First: weapons. Second: there is no second. All of our weapons arrived here like an hour ago.” He indicated the direction that BEAT should go, haven painstakingly extracted the information from a passerby quite possibly as obnoxious as he.
”No, pinhead. Our weapons are in these flyin’ lockers we can call when it’s our turn to kick ass. Jus’ use your scroll.” A withering yet amazed glance flew her way. Had he only been told, the entire conversation with the random dipstick could have been avoided—a fact Tawne knew Echo knew, yet she made no attempt to step in. ”Thank. You. Echo.” The bespectacled keyboarder glanced at the other members of BEAT. ”Anything else I should know?”
Albus raised a hand, student-like. “I’m hungry, actually. Never got any noodles.” Seeing Burgundy walking, he followed suit, and the entire team left the landing bay in single file.
On the way to the arena, they halted in a short hallway full of vendors. Tawne, in fact, nearly crashed into Albus when his friend stopped abruptly. Navigating carefully around him, he beheld what astonished Albus so and let his jaw drop. ”Oh, my my...”
Without taking his eyes off the prize, Albus nodded. “I know, right. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Singularly focused, Tawne returned the gesture. “Boy am I. But it’s so…massive. And thick. How could you get it all inside you? No, wait, I got it. I’ve still got some room in me. We can tag-team it. You can go first. If there’s any left, make sure you get me a part your mouth hasn’t touched. Don’t think of the consequences, man! Together, we can swallow the whole wiener, no matter how big!”
Echo and Burgundy looked back. For some reason, the boys had stopped completely at some guy’s shop and appeared to be intently focused on something behind the counter. As she watched, the shopkeeper lugged the great, brown shape up and slapped it on the countertop, before grabbing his buns and laying them out beside. Despite her initial shock and disbelief, Echo shrugged. ”They’re just getting’ a novelty-size hot dog. I bet the bozos are gonna use it for some crappy joke.” Shaking her head, she continued with her partner toward the arena to find a seat, with her teammates not far behind.
"Miss mouth?" Burgundy echoed angrily. She had half a mind to use her semblance and vibrate the air right next to his ears at a drum-shattering pace. Tawne didn't know how much she struggled to stay on top of everything. She already had her weapon with her, so there was no use for her to pull her scroll out and call her locker. Her weapon was just a sword, but it was how she used it that made her a tough opponent.
Then it was with the innuendos and jokes. She should have known that it was just a matter of time before Tawne started making his special batch of jokes, but it was already too late for her to do anything. Burgundy looked to Echo and sighed.
"I'm thankful that Albus isn't too impressionable. Tawne would have a little mini-Tawne if he was, and I'm not sure even you would be able to handle all of that."
"Very eloquent." The Atlesian Huntress-in-training commented dryly at her team leader, though without quite the same irritation as before. A few minutes distance from the event had mellowed her mood a little. Less so with the target of her anger, but more so with the people caught in the crossfire of her intended vendetta. Besmirching her given name was one thing. Irritating, but anyone who wanted to mess about with it was little more than a minor annoyance. Mucking with her family's name? No. She would not permit any further damage to the name that she would force the world to remember than had already been done. He nearly cost Umeko her favorite outfit with that rainbow powder, too.
And he did cost her a four hundred lien cashmere scarf. On top of ruining her leader's appearance. Teàrlag would have to go into battle colored like she'd been tasting the rainbow, and that was unacceptable. For Umeko's pride. For Teàrlag's pride. And for TSUN's pride. And that meant that this practical jokester, this hooligan, this asshole had earned what was coming to him. A personal, thorough dismantling in combat of every bit of pride he held dear.
She took a deep breath, running her fingers back and forth over the release for her weapons. She might not fight their team in the first round. Indeed, she might not fight them at all. But one way or another they would lose.
Perhaps they would be eliminated by another team before facing TSUN. She wouldn't mind that outcome; her need for retribution would be satisfied. If they were not eliminated by another team, however, Umeko would see them on the field of battle. She would not permit TSUN to be eliminated by anyone. No matter the competition, they would make it through every round until the final fight. And then they would win that, too.
"Too little, too late, Morgan. The first fights are being announced. Noel and I are gonna go scoop out this competition of ours. You can be come with us, but just know that we already voted you our stay-at-home-dad for this whole vacation." Brennan grinned impishly at the banker and finished his glass of milk with a flourish and a thunk."I wanted to leave a maid's apron on your bed, but Noel informed me that could be considered politically incorrect for a male homemaker. Sorry Supernanny."
His dark eyes locked onto the slowly milling crowd of students entering the Coliseum and narrowed; with his dark t-shirt, clothing, and restless gaze (sleep on the airship, as if) he looked like a particularly wary Nevermore from the balcony of BANK's suites. There was little he wanted more than to know which of them were fighters and which of them he would convince to cheer for him. He would give every one of them the time of their lives - but there was an important distinction between fondly picturing someone when you were with your lover and waking up in the middle of the night with no breath in your lungs and sweat beading on your skin at the thought of someone's laugh.
Brennan might have been born in Atlas and taught in Mistral, but where he really lived was with one foot in each extreme.
"If you're coming with us, make sure your fookin' toortle is locked up. Don't need that li'l bastard makin' hisself a nest outta my shirts - again. If you're stayin', tell Tarik to come and meet us when you see him." Brennan vaulted over one of the couches that bordered the suite's dining room and maneuvered around the coffee table on his way to the door. "Noel's too short to see over half the seats. Last thing I need is her bony arse diggin' into my back through the prelims just so she can watch the lightweights dig into each other."
Noel du Acier & Brennan Griese - Outside the Coliseum
“You say that and yet…” Noël said putting her hands on Brennan’s shoulders. “You always let me ride on your shoulders.” She said giddily quickly picking up her nicer pair of shoes from her suitcase. She turned to Albert and pointed at the plate beside the one he sat in front of. “Sweetie, do me a favour and remind Kek about the meal I made him, and make sure you eat your own I don’t need you falling asleep in the middle of the fight.” The young woman snatched her pea coat and through it around her, giving Albert a small nod and began walking out of the apartment.
As the two members of BANK walked across the street from the hotel chatting about a couple of different topics, future licensing of Noel’s fashion line, some business potential for plans back in Atlas. But the insatiable Atlesians were truly only looking forward to one thing. The lack of merchandise present at the coliseum. She turned to her leader and while making sure not to visibly salivate spoke to him. “Y’know, if we set up some stands – sell some T-shirts, pump up the crowd during our outings, maybe we’d be able to set up a truly lucrative opportunity.” Noël was telling this to Brennan more or less to vocalize the thoughts, she knew he’d been thinking the exact same things. When they approached the coliseum Noël noticed a shorter woman staring at her, she turned to face her placing a hand on Brennan’s abdomen to stop him as well.
“Is there something I can help you with dear?” Noël asked with an impatient kindness that she had seemingly perfected.
“I recognize you, you’re both from Atlas, and you’re those rich kids aren’t you?” She asked approaching Noël.
“I am Noël Du Acier, my father and I run Du Acier steel, I see the sword you’re holding is of my own creation – you must be happy.”
“Oh right that’s that family that lost all of their money, right?” the girl asked indifferently.
Noël didn’t bother to respond, instead simply taking a coin out of her pocket. “I could quite easily be richer than your very dreams, I could make you that rich as well.” She said twirling the coin through her fingers and snapping directly onto the coin. As she did the coin flipped upwards, and duplicated itself creating two coins. She tossed both of the coins to the girl before walking away. Giving her own last vicious glance up and down, her razor sharp gaze attuning itself to the girl's blade.“Next time you purchase a sword from our company do be sure to double check your bank account, we no longer support a bargain bin in our stores.” She grabbed Brennan’s hand and walked away, taking her time showing her indifference to the girl through her stride, a modest grin on her visage.
“Brennan would you buy me a candy apple when we get there, I’ve been craving something sweet.”
"I'll have you know Bowser is incredibly well-behaved. He knows better now." he returned. "And shut up, Noel. I can deal with our leader leaving his clothes around perfectly well myself."
Seating himself, he deftly placed a napkin in his lap, took up knife and fork in hand, and made an elegantly precise first cut of juicy, flavorful steak in the span of one and a half seconds. It was the kind of time only practiced ease could beget, and as he speared the meat with his fork, he began once more to their retreating forms, his voice easily carrying despite not even facing them.
"Not to worry, I'll have Tarik taken care of. You two go socialize, Noel could use the practice."
Casual potshots at the team's designated tease-victim aside, he nonethless raised the arm and waved.
"Oh, and the steak is perfect, as always."
The door finally shut behind him, leaving the young man alone with his meal in the room.
Now then, onto business.
His scroll emerged from the pocket once more, speed-dialing Kek's number with a press of "5".
As it rang, he held it to his ear even as another cut of meat slid down his throat.
She's definitely on the warpath. After you spend a wee bit of time with other folk, you tend to really start picking up on all the cues and unconscious actions they do, and with a bit of trial and error you'll start associating those things with their feelings and whatnot. That's how I know Umeko's very, very keen on fighting those two we met earlier; the way her pale white fingers are running across the hilt of her weapons is a real clear sign. Sure, she might look pretty casual, but that's just the persona, remember?
Just gearing up for battle underneath that façade. Ready to deliver payback.
That motivation she's got is why she's near the top of the class and I'm in the middle. It's actually a pretty comfortable spot, free of any real stress, and because there's bugger-all reason for me to try work harder, it's a position I'm perfectly content with. We're all going to be sent into the meat grinder of Grimm-fighting in the end, anyway. As long as we can take a few hits, they'll be fine with turning me into just another two-bit C-list hero sent to die protecting the world.
It's not terribly wizard, but hey, that's life for you.
Just the bad atop of bad.
Anyway, so Umeko wants to beat those folks down hard. Poor buggers. Though I would be a bit more sympathetic if not for the entire dust in nose thing. I mean it's not like it matters to me that much or anything but I might ... try a bit harder and help out Ms. U over here?
I watch sparks dance across my arms, filling the air with the smell of ozone.
Burgundy guided her group to the center of the platform, standing ready for all to see her. Her weapon was easier to have casually than others, but not the easiest one to conceal. She felt pride, standing among her friends and opponents. They were the best that their respective schools, but Burgundy believed she and her team would stand out on top.
But she also felt something else. It wasn't something the could describe as she fidgeted, but a feeling that she just had to endure.
"Are you ready?" She asked her teammates.
"Are you ready to win?"
Burgundy stood by, waiting for the random numbers to generate to decide who would be fighting who.
Meanwhile, Ophelia Cross sat in the box with her fellow teachers, playing on her scroll and whistling a jaunty tune to herself.
"Glad to see that you still know how to make a girl feel welcome, Silme." A mocking laugh chimed from above, followed soon by a lithe figure leaping down onto the Faunus' back from above. The two went down in a bit of a tumble, sending Silme staggering to the ground while the girl simply smiled as she just as deftly leaped off her victim, doing a little flip in the air before landing next to Mikoto. She was an average sized girl of a very lithe and petite frame, wearing little more than a bikini top and a pair of black short-shorts, showing off a lot of skin, lean muscle, and a scar or two along her tone stomach. Her long hair was worn in a loose, wild fashion, reaching down to her to the middle of her back like a dark cascading waterfall. Her face, holding a mischievous face and delighted light blue eyes, was framed by two bangs that were held in place by a pair of plain white hair-clips.
Turning away from a grumbling Silme, who was struggling to keep his temper under control at the moment, the girl gave the new member a small smile as she decided to greet her.
"Sup, name's Keppel, part-time rocker, full-time Huntress, and plausible a master of meaningful graffiti art, depending on who's asking." She reached into the nearly non-existent pockets of her shorts to summon up her locker, which soon flew in to land with a fairly loud thud, nearly crushing Silme in the process as he scurried to avoid getting crushed by the damn thing. Walking up to it, it quickly opened and she pulled out her weapons, a choker and a pair of white gauntlets, as well as a knee length black and blue jacket that she put on to cover up ever so slightly. "Glad to know we won't have to go in there down a man, and don't let lil' Silme's temper scare you off, he's really just a big softie."
"I'll show you soft, loud-ass, crazy bitch." Silme muttered under his breath, only for Keppel to turn around and smirk at him as she brought her hands up to her face in a mockingly appalled manner.
"Come now, Silme, wait until we're alone first before suggesting things like that, unless . . . you're suggesting we have a little group exercise. Down boy, let's win the matches first before finding a way to celebrate." The smile on her face only grew as Silme's face grew extremely red, and he suddenly let out a frustrated shout before he walked away, announcing that he "needed some fucking air, away from annoying bitches that always got to say something." She chuckled a little bit before turning her attention back to Mikoto, putting an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close in order to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. "See, in order to handle Silme, you just need to bring up Sex and Amari in the same sentence. Shuts him down nearly every time, dirty little horn dog I sw- SHIT!"
The laughter would turn into a quick yelp as she pulled the swan Faunus down with her to avoid a hurtling bench that Silme had picked up and launched at the two. He gave Keppel a death stare before continuing on his way to an outdoor balcony.
"I did say it was 'nearly' every time." The girl said with a bit of a cheeky grin as she rose back up, putting her hands in her jacket pockets, rocking back and forth in place as she looked over to Amari, wondering who she should team up for the match.
Mikoto, of all people, shouldn't have been surprised at people dropping in from above considering how many times she did just that, but still it made her eyebrows rise. There were comfortable looking chairs right there, why would anyone choose to hang on the ceiling, and how did they for that matter? Still, they decided it was a good thing to take down that obnoxious mutt, so they had to be a wonderful person. Before their attention could be on her, Mikoto gave the girl a once over. To say that her appearance was unusual would be an understatement.
To describe the introduction as hasty wouldn't be telling the truth - Mikoto didn't even manage to draw a breath to respond before Keppel's attention was gone. The swan faunus was growing more and more amused though as Keppel fed her nightmare fuel for Silme by the shovels. She made a mental note to seek this girl out later to talk about that.
So, the loudmouth fancies Amari, eh? Now there's something to ruin for him. I'd be delighted to! her inner sadist thought, but before it could elaborate on how it intended to ruin anything between them before it even began, Mikoto found herself pulled to the ground. Something heavy flown by, but she paid it no attention since Keppel's face was now barely an inch away from hers, allowing her to soak in the details. Then again... those are quite exquisite eyes!
Once she got up, the mutt was gone from public view to her unending happiness. Dusting off her jacket, Mikoto cleared her throat. "Hello. My name is Mikoto Kage. I am pleased to see the rest of the company is not composed of uncivilized barbarians."
Upon Silme executing his... energetic entrance, followed by an initially grumpy-as-hell Mikoto, Amari gathered that the two had already met, and had gotten off to a rocky start. She does, however quickly realize who Mikoto was, having thought that the scroll address looked familiar. "So, Sil, I take it that you have already met our newest partner? And Schwarz, it is great to see you again, its been a while, hasn't it?" She says, saying the last part with a grin. "Now, we're almost all here, just waiting for Kep-" She says, just as Keppel herself leapt down from the ceiling, startling Amari slightly.
Upon hearing Keppel's remarks about celebration, Amari laughs a bit, covering it up with a cough
Silme leaned against the railing of the balcony, ignoring Mikoto's annoying bitchin' as he sighed, wishing he could staple Keppel's damn lips shut. Mikoto was the absolute last person he wanted to know something like that, but what had been done had been done. He sure as hell was going to treat the bitch any better if she tried to use it against him, even if it might kill his chances. Fuckin' hell, why do I have to deal with this crap? I just wanted to hit things, live life, and die a fast death at a young age, not get wrapped up in a damn relationship! Yet I can't seem to help how I feel . . . goddamn hormones.
After having cleared his head of any . . . unsavory thoughts that may have lingered after Keppel's teasing, he felt his scroll buzz in his pockets. A slight wave of apprehension, coursed through him as he brought it up, a grimace cutting a cross his face as he saw the familiar face of Carver flash across the screen. He thought about just ignoring the fucker, but knew that would only lead to more annoyance, and possibly a beating, later on. With a reluctant sigh, he pressed the answer button before bringing the device up to his ear.
"Oh, you actually answered this time, how wonderful! It usually takes a good round of good ol' fashion punishment before you learn to answer my calls on a constant basis. But moving on from that, how are you feeling about the tournament?" Carver spoke in a jolly, yet sharp tone, seeming like he was currently reclined on something. Some noises could be heard from the background, but they were incoherent and faint. "I bet you're all puffed, thinking you'e going to sweep the competition just because you've won a few real fights, but I'll tell you that while it's true that you've got a lot of skill, don't think that'll get you anywhere in the ring."
"I beg to differ on that front, but I'm not a fuckin' idiot, Carver, I know how to handle myself in a fight and definitely know not to underestimate an opponent. Now tell me what you want, because I know you didn't just call to check in."
"Heh, right you are, Wolf-boy, you're such a smart little mutt, aren't ya?" Carver replied, only to be met by a deep, rumbling growl in return, which only amused the man further if his chuckle was anything to go by. "Anyway, i want you to pay particular attention to an Atlesian team that's come to the games, Team BANK, if I'm remembering correctly. I want to know what they can do and how they do it, because I might have to kidnap one or two of them. Atlesian money is always good and plentiful, but them being Hunters in training complicates matters a bit. Regular goons won't be enough, and if I pay for professionals, it'll likely lead to me getting very little profit from the venture. So, I've decided to go with both and hire a single pro of very high regard and efficiency. Only problem will be hoping he doesn't take a bite out of the cargo or make off with them himself. But anyway, can I trust you to get me as much information as you can?"
"Tch, I hate these kind of jobs and you know that. . . but yes, I've got it handled. Now are we fuckin' done with this conversation, because I feel like your voice is giving me an ear infection from all of the shit you're spewing."
"For now, Silme, for now, but do make sure to put in some real effort on this mission. I'll be keeping an eye on them to, and for every bit of info I can get from watching the games that you don't provide, that'll be a sparring session you'll owe me. You remember what happened last time, don't you? Wouldn't want for there to be a repeat of that, now would we?"
". . . no." Silme muttered, one hand unconsciously reaching to his side where, underneath his clothes, lay a rather nasty looking strip of scar tissue, all red, jagged, and angry in it's appearance. Carver had broken his aura in a fight and given him a bad cut to his side, and then had proceed to worsen it a bit as punishment for allowing it to happen before sending him off to get patched up by one of his cronies, who had a healing semblance and was Carver's main woman, one of them at least. It never seemed to have healed properly, always causing a dull throbbing from time to time, like now. But to Silme, it was more than a scar, it was a reminder that Carver was far, far above him, and possibly always would be. It was a reminder that, no matter how badly he wanted to, or how hard he tried, he'd never be able to escape from this man's heel, and he'd be serving him for the rest of his life, which may not be that long in all honesty.
"Good, now if you'll excuse me, there are some ladies in need of my attention and a shopkeeper in the basement who needs to be reminded that my protection isn't a charity, and that we don't take well to people who think they can skip out on paying. Have a nice day, and remember, keep an eye out." With that, the scroll went dead, the number instantly wiping itself from his phone as it had been programmed to do whenever it intercepted a call from Carver's encrypted and hacked hotline into the CCT system. Silme let his arm drop, letting out a hollow sigh as he looked over the edge of the balcony into the city below, pocketing the scroll. His eyes were rather down-hearted, and his hands were curled into such tight fists that his knuckles were turning white from the pressure and his claw-like nails were digging into his palms, his aura being the only thing keeping him from drawing blood at the moment.
Keppel turned to Mikoto, giving the new girl a smile as she gave a small salute, ceasing her rocking for the moment as she addressed the girl.
"Nice to meet you as well, Mikoto, and don't be so hard on lil' Silme. He's an ass, I'll fully admit, but considering a few things, he could've turned out much, much worse. I've known the fucker for a while, and he's not so bad a guy when you give him a chance. Still pretty bad, of course, but he's got a few points worthy of respect." Keppel said, before pulling Mikoto in close, keeping an eye on Amari as she once again whispered into the swan faunus' ear. Oh, and please keep what I said early between us, yeah? I know you probably have every, and I mean every, intention and right to use it against him, but let me tell you that this whole thing is really a step up for him. Gives him something other than beating up random thugs to look forward to, and a reason to be a better human being as well. If that's going to get thrown out the window, I want it to be Amari's decision after Silme's deemed himself ready to open up. I know it's an odd thing to ask, but I'm, like, the big sister of the group, and I got to look out for these two knuckle heads. She then proceeds to give Mikoto a quick peck on the cheek, an unreadable smile on her face, as she pulls away. A single finger would trail along the fauns' shoulders, up her neck to caress her cheek, before lightly flicking her on the nose. With a soft chuckle, Keppel would turn over to talk to Amari, skipping over to her tomboyish teammate with a bit of whistle as she did an about face an put her arm around the blue haired girl's neck, attempting giving her a bit of a noogie as she spoke.
"So, what's the plan for the fight? Any strategies, or do we need to wing it, oh, and Mikoto, what do you bring to the table? Can;t really devise any battle plans without knowing what we're working with? And Amari, would you be a dear and get Silme for me, I'm afraid he's still a bit cross with me, and I wouldn't be able to resist poking at his ego a little more than is possibly reasonable."
"A while, yes..." Mikoto said, wincing a little at Amari using her adoptive name, "But that's not my name. Not anymore. I left all that behind me two years ago." she explained. "Well, we have other things to discuss than old times. I am holding you to a catch-up talk later though!" the swan pointed at her with a grin.
Listening to Keppel's description of Silme, Mikoto remained unimpressed. That guy belonged behind bars, he just had that smell around him. And one day she would put him there, along with all of his buddies. Or maybe them first. Whichever slipped up first and left enough evidence behind to nail them.
She decided to address the hush-hush part of what Keppel told her later, for now focusing on the upcoming matches. "As you have no doubt been told I mam a PD cadet. I've been training for two years to take the most dangerous people off of the streets, under the supervision of a hunter so don't worry about my odds. In fact put me up against the worst of them, as long as you have my back I should be able to take down most of them one on one." she gave the brief summary.
"If you want more details, than I use blades for close combat-" she said, reaching behind her back and unholstering the Swansong and Quilltact, setting them on the table, "-but as you can see on a closer look, my true strength is spellwork. I don't know what gods you believe in, but I am a shaman, and I can weave Nature's Wrath accordingly. All I need are the base four kinds, and I can cast anything. That said if you would want me to set the whole arena ablaze you'd need to buy me some five minutes of uninterrupted casting, but I could do it."
"Last, my semblance." she said as she picked up the Quilltact and walked closer to Keppel. "Not only am I immune to dust spells when it's active, but it also allows me to do this." she said and with a barely audible growl, the faunus activated her semblance. Keppel would have gotten a second flash of her swirling black form with prominent white eyes before Mikoto would phase straight through the girl and turn solid on the other side, the blunt hilt of her dagger slightly tapping over Keppel's kidney. "Dead." she simply whispered into her ear, curious for a reaction.
Mikoto would find herself staring down at a black, strangely technological barrel, a small chuckle coming from the anarchist as she leaned back against her would-be assailant.
"If I hadn't been trained as a Huntress, then yes, I would be dead. However, with my aura up, I think you just gave me a bit of bruise at most. Plus, you're in the danger close range of my Rock Fists. You'd be at my mercy as I disoriented you, caused you to lose your hearing in the most likely scenario, and threw off your sense of balance. But I must say that you're cute when you're confident." She'd press a button to shut down her weapon and give Mikoto a pat on her head, before turning to see that Amari had yet to do what she said. So she decided to kick the girl's butt into gear. Pushing her self off of the cadet, she took a few steps behind the girl, raised her foot up high in front of her, and gave a solid kick to her lazy bum.
"Go get Silme's salty ass over here, dammit. I'm not paying you to stand around."
"As If I was serious. Or did you already forget what I said was my strength?" Mikoto smirked and tapped one of the keys on the hilt of Quilltact, popping the channel leading to the lightning dust capsule open. A white and blue bolt momentarily connected with the metal table in a bright flash, causing the piece of furniture to fly away with a new scorch mark. "And please, I am cute, period." she said with an exasperated hair toss. "Although I do feel a bit challenged in that area standing in this room. Absent quarter excluded." the cadet smiled.
She giggled at their antics, making a note to steal a moment with each of them later during the tournament. After all, she was partially on a recruitment mission, she just needed to find a way to sell it, and it would be easier doing so if she managed to befriend them first.
"'Ell no, I'm not gettin' you anyting with sugar in it. You can have a big toob of popcorn and you can appreciate that shit."
Noel gave him such a quivering look that he felt the muscles in his hand clench. The Atlesian returned it with the only thing the blacksmith was born to understand - tempered steel.
"As if you won't be up past your bedtoim enough to begin with. You want me to give you sometin' to make you hyper now too?"
"...Yes?"
...
"Dammit, Noel."
Figured that she'd know how to work a piece of steel.
"Ye, ye, fine," the accented Atlesian grumbled. His hand wriggled out of hers and grabbed her left hand as she lifted it triumphantly. He pinned it down at her side, with the intended consequence of wrapping his arm protectively around his teammate's shoulder to begin with and putting her in a would-be chokehold. "But you're going to make yourself useful to the cause if I do. I want you to find ten little midgets from Vale. Pop leaks in their fookin' sodas with the stick when you're done. Spread fear and dissent in your wake, du Acier. Big Brudda has spoken."
