Hey all, Enuncia here, please read the authors notes at the bottom of the page.

Enjoy.

Prologue Part 1.

The first sensation Roman felt upon his abrupt return to consciousness was not a pleasant one.

Roman's stomach flipped. Acidic bile crashed into the back of his throat. The miniaturised vomit tsunami threatened to gush into his mouth. He forced the foul tasting fluid back down. He wretched at the stinging aftertaste it left in the back of his throat. His hands squeezed the reassuring length of Melodic Cudgel, Roman silently thanked whatever benevolent god had deemed him lucky enough to keep hold of his weapon. Sweltering heat singed his skin and stole the air from his lungs. The acrid stench of burning flesh stung his nose as the corpses of the murdered crew caught alight.

Finally, other more bearable sensation reached his brain. The air current whistled by his ear and particles suspended within stung his eyes as the buffeting wind threatened to snatch his clothes from his frame, which now bore the first signs of malnutrition due to his extended stay in captivity. His white coat flapped slackly against his body. It was now slightly too big for him, not that Roman minded, any excuse to break out his sewing kit for some therapeutic tailoring was welcome. Speaking of clothing… where is my damned hat, Roman wondered idly. He took in his surroundings for the first time since regaining consciousness.

He was still aboard the airship. Which was good. The airship was currently accelerating towards the ground at an ever increasing rate. Which was bad…

Even moving his neck to survey his smoke shrouded surroundings hurt. Everything hurt. He forced himself upright, stumbling for the first few steps as his footing adjusted to the slanted surface he found himself upon. He finally used his cane for its intended purpose. The remains of the command room lay around him. Crumpled consoles sparked and smouldered, ruptured cables hissed and snapped as they swayed like miniature king Taijitu. It was beside one such flaming terminal that Roman spotted his beloved hat. Amongst the toppled chairs, tucked safely away was the article of clothing that brought Romans whole outfit together. He still remembered the words of his first employer. Some low level gang boss for some group of thugs and dealers called the Bluebloods. He'd said "If you want to be feared kid, you've got to be memorable first. Find something unique, some weapon or tattoo. Make sure they know who did it, let them know who not to fuck with." Roman had taken those words to heart and the advice had served him well throughout the years of his criminal career.

He threw the chairs aside and retrieved his hat, brushing it off before carefully placing it back atop his head. Roman emerged fully from his stupor as he remembered just how he had ended up back in the command deck of the airship. He'd been beating little red with his cane, educating her on the harsh realities of the real world. Then there had been a sudden disappearance of all light and sound. An all encompassing, oppressive darkness surrounded him, emanating a sickening warmth as the stench of death invaded his nostrils. Next came an ear splitting roar that seemed to assault his senses from every direction at once. The sudden sensation of motion escalated into the dizzying feeling of his orientation rapidly changing. His malnourished frame bounced painfully around the dark confines he found himself in. The last thing he'd felt before unconscious claimed him was the abrupt cessation of movement. Roman concluded that he'd been swallowed whole by a Grimm, probably a large Griffon or Nevermore. The realisation made his stomach churn anew.

Shuddering, he put the thought from his mind and examined the flickering screen of the command console, the altimeter of the digital display was rapidly decreasing. It now read 900 feet. Roman took a look at the skyline, cursing as he realised the cliff upon which Beacon academy stood was now level with him.

He glanced back to the terminal, futilely scanning the holographic keys for a button labeled 'restart engines' or 'avoid crash'. Roman had rehearsed his role in this job time and again. Even going as far as building a mock up of the command room and daubing it in paint to mark essential buttons. But the countless hours he had spent poring over diagrams and manuals had all been for nought. In every possible scenario he had anticipated, the ship's engines being out of action had never come up. "Fuck!" He snarled as he put his fist through the screen, putting an end to any possibility of him deciphering the flickering readouts.

A series of muted explosions rumbled through the decks. Roman took this as his signal to leave. He clambered out through the opening left by the flailing form of the Grimm as the ship tilted a full ninety degrees. Roman grabbed a jagged piece of the view port's frame with his free hand as his legs dangled into oblivion. A red blur fell past him, as his eyes caught up with the falling object, an all too familiar gunshot rang out. Little red fired straight down in an effort to slow her descent. How hard is it to kill one girl? Roman thought to himself as he barred his teeth and took aim. He tensed his arm, fighting to steady his aim in spite of the wind slamming into his body and tugging at the elongated barrel of Melodic Cudgel. As his aura flowed into his weapon the sight at the end of the barrel flicked up. The crosshairs rested over the red reaper. Roman adjusted his aim, giving his target lead, taking into account speed and distance. His snarl twisted into a malicious smile as his finger tightened on the trigger.

A black mass slammed into his malnourished frame. Black wings and skin speckled with outcrops of white bone entered the periphery of his vision a moment before his head was slammed violently against the metal hull. He could feel talons pressing his face and left shoulder against the airframe. His bones creaked and stars danced across his vision. Only his aura stopped the talons from slicing into his skin. Roman's right shoulder lanced pain signals through his nervous system as his right arm now supported the weight of both him and his assailant. Roman cried out in pain and rage and blindly fired Melodic Cudgel over his shoulder. The point blank blast slammed him against the angular hull. The headless corpse of the Grimm nearly tore him from his precarious perch. The Griffon's carcass caught the wind and collided with one of its brethren before dissolving into nothingness.

Roman's fringe was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He clamped Melodic Cudgel between his teeth, stifling his heavy breathing. His left hand found purchase on the angular hull, easing the strain to his now damaged right shoulder. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm his tremulous breathing and frantic heart.

There would be no respite, however. A second Griffon attacked, its bone-white beak sought out the taut muscle of his left bicep and clamped down. Its claws slid into the armoured airship's ruptured fuselage with little issue as it attempted to tear him from the ship he so desperately clung to. Its thrashing form slammed him face first into the hull and bashed his weapon from between his teeth. "No!" Roman lamented as the outstretched fingers of his right hand brushed against the cane's handle before the slipstream snatched it away. Roman's eyes were still fixated on Melodic Cudgel spinning away as the Grimm finally wrenched his weakened grip from the airframe.

Grimm and criminal fell entwined, tumbling end over end to the whims of the wind. Claws slashed, fists punched. Still the Griffon maintained its unwavering hold on Roman's left arm with its beak. He clawed at his enemy's face with his free hand. His searching digits found one of its baleful red eyes. Roman's fingers slid along its smooth skull, he forced his thumb into the creature's eye socket and was rewarded with a muted pop and the sensation of hot blood spurting down his forearm. The beast wailed in pain and Roman capitalised on its beak's slackening grip to pull his arm free. The creature planted the paws of its rear legs on his torso and kicked him clear. Roman tumbled through the air and collided with yet another Griffon, his desperate fingers tore fistfuls of black fur and feathers from its body as he grappled with the Grimm for dominance. The creature flapped its wings trying to orientate itself as the two opponents plummeted. Finally Roman managed to wrap his legs around its neck. He sat astride its throat and kept its clacking beak at bay by gripping its feathery mane with his left hand. His right fist rained blows of its thick skull as the creature sliced chunks away from his aura with its frantic claws. The bone plate cracked beneath Roman's feral onslaught, his next punch shattered the white mask. The beast fell limp beneath him. The next four punches were more akin to stress relief rather than for any practical reason. Blood spattered across his face and chest as he screamed wordless anger into its now unrecognisable face.

Yet another Grimm cannoned into him, sending him spinning through the air. Roman flailed his arms fruitlessly as the doomed aircraft continued to accelerate towards the ground, now belly up and spewing smoke some thirty feet beneath him. His cane spun into view falling after the doomed ship. Roman rolled over and altered his posture. He brought his legs together and brought his arms to his sides to make himself more aerodynamic and accelerated after his weapon. He squinted as the rushing wind elicited tears from his eyes. A few moments later his fingers wrapped around Melodic Cudgel's handle. Roman felt whole once more.

He turned his attention to the maelstrom of Grimm circling Ironwood's floundering craft. Hundreds of Griffons, accompanied by a few dozen Nevermores screeched and cawed as if commentating on the descent of the plummeting vehicle. The avian Grimm took turns to dive down into the city, striking panicking civilians or overwhelming the paltry resistance offered by the Valean and Atlesian troops. Drop ships and fighter aircraft flitted through the airborne swarm, bobbing and weaving to avoid the ever increasing number of Grimm clouding the sky. Chin guns chattered and missiles screamed, neither seemed to make a dent in the horde. Roman witnessed an Atlesian drop ship lose an engine to the feather barrage of a Nevermore, the pilot screamed and clawed at the cockpit window as the craft went belly up and spiralled down after its larger counterpart. An emergency hatch opened as frantic soldiers jumped to their doom. Most were snatched from the sky before they ever made fatal contact with the ground. Roman wasn't sure who was luckier.

Seeing such a spectacle had taken his attention away from the Grimm. A group had split from the main contingent and were heading straight for him.

He twisted clumsily in the air, forewarned by the screech of an overeager Nevermore. Roman fired two dust flares, both failed to penetrate the Grimm's hide, neither damaging nor deterring the creature. Roman spread his arms and legs, dramatically slowing his fall and narrowly avoiding his attacker. The Nevermore swept below him, Roman dropped onto the beast and kicked off of its wing, propelling himself clear of the creature. A Griffon swooped down, seeking his neck with its claws. Roman batted the attack aside with his cane and spun midair, his heel connected with the things face, snapping its neck. An adolescent Nevermore barged into him a moment later, leaving him once again at the mercy of gravity.

The ground rushed up to meet him. Roman had mere seconds to act. A Griffon swooped down from above, Roman managed to get a shot off. The resulting explosion pulped one of its wings. The crippled Grimm fell into him, the Griffon's maw opened wide, preparing to engulf Roman's head. He managed to jam Melodic Cudgel into the creature's beak, he braced one hand at either end of the cane's length to hold his attacker at bay. Man and monster spiralled towards the ground, flipping gracelessly end over end. Beneath the two grappling combatants, the colossal Atlesian airship finally made contact with the buildings below. First shearing off Chimneys, then crushing entire houses. Next the craft tore into the roadways and building foundations, leaving a deep gouge in the Valean cityscape half a mile long. Vibrant red fires started along its length, reminiscent of blood seeping from an open wound. The screech of rending metal surged into the air, drowning out all opposing noise, as the ship finally came to a halt.

Roman saw none of this as he spat an unending stream of curses at his assailant, answered by the Griffon with anguished screeches. The cracks between the paving stones below became visible. Rooftops rose to eye level.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.

A loud crash left his ears ringing and a sickening wet snap cut off the panicked screeching of the Grimm with which he had grappled. Stone splintered beneath him, a series of snapping sounds denoted a spiderweb of cracks spreading across the paving stones. Roman groaned as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees with shaking arms. A somewhat viscous wetness coated his face and dampened his clothes. He wiped the liquid from around his eyes with the back of his forearm before opening them. Roman found himself staring into a puddle of gore. His coat flapped lankly with his slight movements as red blood and liquidised organs dripped from thoroughly soaked fabric. The fluid soaking his frame evaporated into foul smelling smoke. The puddle beneath him followed suit a moment later, revealing Melodic Cudgel. As the smoke cleared, Roman took in his surroundings. Around him all he could see was rubble, pebbles skittered down its surface as the stones settled in their new positions. Above him the storefronts stood seemingly unscathed. He surmised that he had broken through the pavement and into the cellar of one of the stores.

Roman retrieved his weapon and clambered from the crater of his own creation. Ever more inventive expletives were hissed from between his teeth as handholds fell free from the mound of rubble despite his cautious touch. The distant din of battle grew louder as he ascended.

Finally, over the lip of the crater, a black glove came into view, slapping down onto the flat stone of the road. With a grunt of exertion, Roman's head and shoulders rose from the crater, Melodic Cudgel once more clamped between his teeth. His left hand joined his right, he dragged himself over the craters edge in a less than graceful manner. Thoroughly exhausted, Roman rolled over onto his back, his legs still dangling into the depression from which he had just escaped. His chest rose and fell as he took some sorely needed deep breaths. Roman sat upright and took in the carnage in which he was situated. One side of the street remained almost untouched, pristine even. The other half was naught but rubble. Squat piles of brick and concrete rose up in place of the buildings that used to stand there, like funeral mounds. Hell some of them probably were. All those ruined structures being unoccupied at the time of destruction seemed unlikely to Roman. The shorn stems of streetlights protruded from their stone tombs. The carnage was consistent for almost half a mile down the right side of the road. At the end of the street, the twisted carcass of Ironwood's ship lay broken and burning. He turned his attention back to the more intact side of the street, hoping for some sort of recognisable landmark. A nearby store seemed somewhat familiar to Roman. The sign above proudly proclaimed the stores name in bold orange font. It read 'From Dust Till Dawn'.

Roman lowered his gaze, noticing for the first time the hunched form of an elderly man in a red apron, sweeping the dust away from his storefront with a straw brush, seemingly oblivious to the battle raging barely a few blocks away. The shopkeep had his back to Roman, sluggishly moving the broom back and forth across the paving stones with laboured yet determined sweeps. Airborne dust irritated the back of Roman's throat, eliciting a hacking cough that startled the shopkeep. The old man turned to face the source of the noise as quickly as his wizened frame would allow. His bewildered expression soon became a hostile frown as he recognised the thug who had robbed his dust store a few months prior. His brow furrowed as his hands wrung the handle of his broom in his white knuckled grip. He shambled towards the criminal sitting on the edge of the crater, brandishing his brush as a makeshift weapon. Roman half-heartedly pointed Melodic Cudgel at the elderly man, the targeting reticule flipped with a menacing click as his aim settled squarely on the shopkeep.

The old man froze under Roman's withering glare. "Do not test me grandpa, I've had a bad day. If you hit me with that brush, I swear to god, I'll blow your wizened brain through your equally wrinkled ass." He hissed. The shopkeep gave a discontented grumble in response and seemed to be about to return to his sweeping. "Get inside, it's not safe on the streets, enough people have died today." Roman added, his tone softening. The old man raised one of his bushy eyebrows before shuffling back to the entrance of his store. "Don't let the door break your hip on the way in, grandpa." He teased. The shopkeep gave him a parting scowl as the door creaked shut.

Roman leaned his cane against his leg as his thoughts turned to Neo. His right arm snaked into the interior breast pocket of his white coat, his gloved hand shook slightly from the ebbing adrenaline as he fished his scroll from the pocket it resided in. He turned the device over so that the screen was facing him.

A haphazard spiderweb of cracks radiating out across the glossy screen smiled back like the grin of a broken toothed man. A hissed curse forced itself out from behind his teeth and between his pursed lips. The leather of his left gloved creaked audibly as his fist clenched. He tapped the screen hesitantly with the gentle prod of a finger. The screen remained dark and unresponsive. Roman's shoulders sagged as he slid the damaged device back into the soft embrace of his pocket.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of worries. Neo had her umbrella and a large aura pool that was almost totally full last time he saw her, she could have made it down safely. But if the Grimm were now targeting her too… what if she didn't make it? No. I can afford to think like that, she made it, she's alive. She has to be. Roman calmed himself and took stock of the situation, he didn't have a way of contacting Neo but they had prearranged location to meet up at as contingency plans incase they lost contact. The primary was the CCT tower, which clearly wasn't an option right now(he knew his partner in crime would reach the same conclusion). The secondary rendezvous point should be more suitable, a sizeable warehouse where Roman had stored stolen shipments of dust before moving them to Mountain Glenn.

So now he just had to cross a Grimm infested, war torn city on foot with low aura… how bad could it be?

His unspoken question was answered by the throaty roars of ravenous Grimm heading his way.

Shit.

Please review!

So there you have it part 1 of the prologue, I sincerely hope you liked it. This story is currently just an experiment consisting of 6 trial chapters. But if enough people are interested in the concept by the end I'll continue my plan. The prologue focuses on setting up things and side characters, though soon we will get to Ruby, Jaune, Nora and Ren.

If you came here from Bunny and the Bully s/11093071/1/Bunny-And-The-Bully

Then I would like you to know that I do plan to finish that story it's just hit a patch of writers block.