"I'm so boooored," Egrer drawled, his fingers joylessly sliding over Baby's strings. After the total wipeout at the club, life had drastically changed. For better and for worse. Depended on who you asked.
Yort was eating grapes, watching some Vacuo crime show on a brand-new plasma TV. He was perfectly fine with how things were. Illmond had made a massive breakthrough in his art, not just because of his recent shibari practice on a hot blonde (done against her will, which only added to the spice), but also thanks to a new scroll specifically designed for drawing. Magenta was equally thrilled by the pile of cash that had dropped into their laps, buying an aquarium and getting a pet octopus.
The compensation payout was so massive that they stuffed the fridge with actual food, bought themselves gifts, restocked all the Dust they blew during the fight, and still had half of it left! As the leader, Egrer declared that the remaining cash would form a communal "Pack Fund" and would be spent strictly on an as-needed basis for essentials only. The birth of the "Pack Fund" saved them from blowing their entire windfall all at once, even though it caused a ton of bitching...
But he didn't do it just to be a dick. Egrer had once read in some "How to Get Rich and Succeed" book that poor people are poor because they have the wrong mindset. Rich folks always set something aside, saving for long-term goals, while broke people blow their paychecks immediately. The author concluded that this habit is exactly what makes the rich richer and the poor poorer. Except, what else is a broke guy supposed to spend his trash-tier paycheck on besides food and rent? And what exactly is there left to save for later? The book didn't have answers to those questions.
Long story short, the book was bullshit, but for some reason, that idea got stuck in his head.
Terrified that their future would once again consist of cheap instant ramen and kidney stones, Egrer created his fund, saving the pack from a grim fate. Lucky bastards who win millions in the lottery almost always slide back into poverty because they can't resist the endless temptations to buy this and that. But Egrer held strong, and for that, he thanked his dad. His old man had clearly laid out the basics of financial literacy, which basically boiled down to a couple of points: if you're short on cash—earn it or steal it; if you can't earn or steal it—curse yourself for not stashing away a grand or two when you had the chance. Golden words. One of the few pieces of heritage from his past life that he wore with pride.
Basically, Egrer was the only one pissed off about the club getting trashed, since he was robbed of his chance to perform in public. Not that he really had much of an audience before, but the Malachite twins and a few gangsters actually enjoyed listening to him, even though the twins would never admit it. The club, by the way, got a whopping four and a half million Lien and was slowly being rebuilt. Compared to that payout, the pack was basically tossed some spare change for gum.
"Boring booooring life without muuuusic, total trash but oh so riiich!" Egrer sang, remixing a song from some popular TV show on the fly. He didn't care about rhymes or hitting the right notes; he just bashed the strings and belted out whatever. "Ooooh, OO, ooooh! Boring booooring, stuck at hoooome, so damn booooring, but oh so riiich!" And to top it off, Egrer tapped into his unique Faunus heritage and let out a wolf howl. "Awooooo!"
"Fuck, Eg! I'm watching TV!" The downstairs neighbors started banging on the radiator, while the upstairs ones stomped on the floor. Even though the pack had scored a ton of Lien, nobody was in a rush to move, since there wasn't much point. They'd be living at Beacon soon anyway, so they could tough it out for a couple of weeks. Although, with all their new purchases, the apartment had gotten cramped as hell.
Egrer propped Baby against the wall next to Magenta's flamethrower and melted into his chair.
"Oh, Twin Gods, I'm so bored..."
"Take a walk." Yort waved a handful of grapes, watching mobsters dip a cop into acid on TV.
"And do what outside? Walk? Run? Snooze-fest."
"Ugh, sick of your whining. Get lost already."
Egrer had another idea. He pulled his new scroll out of his pocket—a modern, holographic one. It looked like a regular steel rod until you pressed a button. And if you grabbed the edge of the screen and pulled, you could stretch it into a tablet or even a monitor. After playing around with his new toy, he typed out a message.
«Hey Ma, how are things over there?»
A minute passed, then a second, and a third. She must be busy.
Egrer casually shoved half a watermelon with four spoons sticking out of it to the corner of the table and rested his head in the cleared spot. He couldn't fathom how anyone could spend days staring at that idiot box like Yort, or stay glued to a scroll 24/7 like Illmond. But he also had zero desire to bounce off the walls like Magenta. Boredom had completely taken over this house, but Egrer was the only one who noticed.
Although, something interesting did pop up.
"Good evening! I'm Lisa Lavender, bringing you the nightly news. Today, we'll be discussing the increasing number of Dust shop robberies, which police and eyewitnesses believe to be orchestrated by the world-famous crime boss Roman Torchwick..."
This was the exact moment Yort would usually crack a joke like, "Oh! They're talking about your dad," but Egrer had already come clean about his adoptive parents, so those jokes weren't fun for Yort anymore. Besides, he didn't want to trigger Magenta and remind her that she was the only one completely out of the loop. With any luck, it would stay that way for the rest of her life.
"...However, to tell us how things really stand, we are joined in the studio today by Vale Police Captain, Augustus Claudius. Welcome."
Egrer tuned out almost the entire broadcast; there was nothing interesting. Same old story—Torchwick is very cunning, very charming, and very dangerous, and we'll definitely catch him eventually. The only thing that caught his eye were the photos and videos from eyewitnesses. Roman was accompanied by some painfully familiar mugs wearing bowler hats, black suits, and red sunglasses. Looks like that was exactly why Torchwick had dropped by the club that night—to borrow some of Junior's boys.
The craziest part was that their robberies were as flashy as possible, putting on a show for everyone. They weren't even hiding; they were just strolling down the street waving their weapons. It was totally in character for Torchwick—he loved shocking the public—but... regular stores? That's way too petty. He must be seriously strapped for cash if he's resorted to this kind of side hustle.
Egrer would have hit up his mom to ask, but since he'd bounced from their crew, he wasn't going to stick his nose where it didn't belong. It wasn't his business anymore.
"Moving on to our next story. The daughter of the influential billionaire and heiress to the Schnee Dust Company has blown up the internet with her unexpected decision to become a Huntress!"
"Oh, isn't that the chick whose songs we played a couple times?" Yort asked.
"Yup."
"According to Weiss Schnee's statement, she will perform a farewell concert right here in Vale, after which she will depart to study at Beacon, the most prestigious Huntsman academy."
"Oh, now there's something to do!" Egrer perked up. "How about we hit up that concert? Soak in some culture."
"Thought you couldn't stand the Schnees. Her family rots Faunus away in their mines."
"Schnee or no Schnee, her songs are absolute bangers. And you shouldn't dump all the blame for a dad's sins onto the kids. That's actually pretty messed up." Junior, for instance, hated Egrer solely because his adoptive father had pulled a few dirty tricks. While Egrer himself was an absolute angel. "So, you down?"
"Naaah," Yort dragged out. "I'd rather chill at home."
"I thought you said the less time you spend here, the better."
"We didn't have this beauty back then!" Yort waved the remote at the TV. And he obviously wasn't talking about the news anchor. "With this baby around, this dump has a whole new vibe."
"Alright. Madge?"
"Can we bring Ozpinopus with us? I'm not going without him." Yep, she had named her pet after the Headmaster of Beacon. Yort had laughed his ass off for a solid hour when he found out.
"Unfortunately, no." They might be able to sneak a puppy or a cat inside, but how do you pull that off with a literal octopus? "Ill, let's hear your excuse."
Illmond poked his head out from under the blanket and blew his bangs out of his eyes. He really shouldn't have; the horrific, bruised bags under his eyes made you want to put this pseudo-artist out of his misery. The guy was voluntarily torturing himself with insomnia.
"I'm busy." He said succinctly and without imagination, diving back into his cocoon. Since that brawl at the club, he hadn't taken his eyes off his scroll (except for the five minutes it took to buy a new one), drawing non-stop, day and night. And once Illmond saw Magenta playing with her octopus... he basically forgot what sleep even was.
"Lazy asses. But going solo feels lame."
"Invite your bitches over."
"You mean the Malachites? This kind of music isn't their vibe. Plus, if we go just the three of us, it's gonna look way too much like a date. They'll turn my life into a living hell after that, so hell no!"
***
And so the days dragged on, full of boredom, lazy guitar strumming, and the droning of the TV. Until it was time for the written test, held a couple of days before Initiation. They actually almost missed their Bullhead to Beacon, jumping in at the very last second right before takeoff.
Other students gave them weird looks—some rocking mohawks, others in spiked armored jackets, one even in a ball gown. Egrer was the only one there wearing a sharp suit and slacks.
"The fuck you starin' at? You think we're clowns or some shit?" hissed Yort Alnen, absolute master of diplomacy and bridge-building. A wonderful start to making friends, acting as if they weren't going to be studying alongside these exact people for the next four years. Illmond swiftly pulled his hood up and wrapped himself tighter in his coat—also not the friendliest gesture. Only Magenta was smiling happily.
"What, you think you're the smartest guy in the room?" asked some dude in armor carrying a mace. If the Middle Ages had street thugs, they definitely looked exactly like him.
"I'm the strongest guy here," Yort finally spat out. Egrer pretended he had never met the man in his life and hurried to take an empty seat. Two of the remaining three pack members did the same.
"Oh yeah? Even stronger than her?" The tough guy nodded toward a red-haired girl, who awkwardly gave a little wave. Talk about an elephant in the room! It was Pyrrha Nikos! In the flesh!
"I'm the strongest guy after her!" Yort corrected himself. He knew exactly who she was.
Since he was heavily into martial arts and combat sports, there was no way he wouldn't recognize the "Invincible Girl," the four-time champion of the Mistral regional tournament. Though, to be fair, Egrer was pretty sure she hadn't actually fractured anyone's skull...
Upon landing at the academy, they were met by a tall, blonde woman who introduced herself as Deputy Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch. Egrer recognized her immediately—she was one of the best Beacon graduates in history, only slightly outmatched in raw power by the Headmaster himself.
Not far from them, on another landing pad, stood another group of students with their own guide, and behind them, another, and another. Egrer spotted Jaune among them and waved, but the guy was a little too preoccupied. He was throwing up into a trash can; the poor dude clearly suffered from motion sickness. But if he was here, that meant he'd passed his interview with the Headmaster and got accepted! He'd definitely have to congratulate him later. And ask if he'd found a part-time job...
"I will escort you to the auditorium," Miss Goodwitch said, explaining the purpose of the test as they walked. "You will need to complete four sections: general education, technical, legal, and, most importantly, answer several questions about the Grimm. Your practical skills will be evaluated during Initiation, so there will be no dueling today." She shot a glare at Yort and the guy with the mace, who had been drilling holes into each other with their eyes. They immediately pretended they didn't know each other, sensing exactly who was the boss here. "To clarify, this is not an exam, but a simple assessment test. Its results will not affect your enrollment. Since you are standing here, you have already been accepted. It is merely designed to evaluate our applicants' baseline knowledge, as Beacon admits students from all over the world with varying levels of education, skill specializations, and unique traits. In simple terms—there is nothing to fear." After hearing that, the group let out a collective sigh of relief.
They passed a fountain and a small garden, stepping into the halls of Beacon. Everyone present had been here at least once before, but you just couldn't get used to this kind of beauty, especially not after just one visit. They all gawked at this fairytale dream castle. The windows offered views of the student dormitories, the massive dining hall, and several towering spires.
The tallest of them boasted not only a gigantic clock and the Headmaster's office, but also served as the Cross Continental Transmit tower for all of Vale. Without it, communication between the kingdoms would be impossible, unless you seriously wanted to rely on carrier pigeons.
Miss Goodwitch led them into a brightly lit auditorium featuring a dozen long desks. Since all of them had gone to school at some point, they sat down without any fuss instead of rushing to fill out their papers. They waited for the final instructions.
"Yort, what are our odds of acing this with a perfect score?" Egrer whispered sideways.
"You shitting me?" Despite the scoff, Yort calculated something in his head anyway. "Three percent. Ill's got nine."
After explaining how to fill out the scantrons, Miss Goodwitch announced the start of the test.
The first section wasn't particularly difficult. Just standard math problems involving point "A" and point "B", solving for X, finding coordinates, and a few history questions. The only people who'd struggle with this section were those who'd lived outside the city walls their entire lives and lacked formal schooling. Even Egrer, who grew up in a Faunus orphanage, was confident he got at least half of them right.
The technical section was much tougher. While he breezed through the questions on operating various types of machinery—thankfully, his dad had taught him how to handle pretty much any vehicle, and how to hotwire it for good measure—the actual inner workings of that tech, chemical formulas, and whatever advanced calculus they threw in there... he just didn't know. And unfortunately, he couldn't just rely on luck and guess "B" because there were no multiple-choice options here. There were also a couple of questions about weapons, but he didn't have much knowledge stored in his brain for those either.
And why would he? His weapon was literally a stick with two long retractable needles. Magenta, on the other hand, would probably feel right at home here. She wielded a flamethrower and had to know the ins and outs of its delicate mechanisms. She was constantly taking it apart and modifying it, after all.
Egrer had no issues with the legal section, mostly because it focused on international laws rather than just Vale's local codes. Egrer could have answered some questions about Mistral, but the legal jungles of the other three kingdoms were completely impenetrable for him. But here, even without knowing the actual answer, you could easily breeze through many of the questions just by relying on one basic premise: we live in an advanced, democratic society where everyone is nice and everything is awesome. Because what else are you supposed to answer to "What is the form of government in Vacuo?" if not democracy? Sure, you could argue about that in reality, but only if there weren't pre-filled multiple-choice answers like "tribal system," "dictatorship," or "monarchy." And while in practice, all three of those alternatives were accurate to varying degrees, officially, Vacuo was a democracy.
As for the Grimm, he knew nothing. Literally nothing. Not their habits, not their habitats—just the names of the most common types. In this regard, Egrer was no different from a regular civilian, so he had to guess blindly.
Having powered through it, he checked on his pack. Madge had handed in her paper first in the class and was currently waiting outside. Yort was struggling, thinking extremely hard, while Illmond tried to copy his neighbor's answers, earning a sharp thwack on the back of his neck from a riding crop. Where Miss Goodwitch had pulled it from was a mystery, but any attempts to cheat were shut down instantly.
Raising his hand politely and handing in his answer sheet, Egrer left the auditorium. Magenta was nowhere to be seen, even though they had been strictly forbidden from wandering far—Beacon was huge, and a newbie could easily get lost.
"Have you seen a weird girl around here?" he asked some students sitting on a bench. They were probably from a different testing group. "She has rainbow-colored hair, kinda shimmers a bit, you'd definitely remember her."
"Nope, we just got out ourselves."
Did Magenta finish the test not just first in their class, but first out of everyone? If so, she had probably just gotten bored waiting all alone.
Sitting on his ass doing nothing while knowing Beacon was in mortal danger was impossible. But rushing off to save it wouldn't be the smartest move, either. It would mean breaking Miss Goodwitch's direct orders, and he had zero desire to find out what she did to rulebreakers. So, Egrer just paced back and forth, peering into every window he passed at least five times.
The hallway was getting more crowded as people spilled out, discussing the test, swapping answers, and laughing. Only Egrer knew that Magenta was roaming the premises, but he had no idea what she was plotting. His heart sank with anxiety.
"Egrer, hey!" Jaune's voice made him jump.
"Why are you sneaking up on me?" The blond looked embarrassed and couldn't find an answer. "Whatever, never mind. How was the test?"
"Really, really bad. I only knew the first section, and for the rest, I just guessed blindly. Thanks for the help," Jaune said it so quietly it was instantly obvious exactly what kind of help he was thanking him for, "but I think I'm gonna get kicked out."
"What are you talking about? The test is just symbolic; it doesn't affect anything. Our guide told us that."
"Really? Ours just talked about his youth at Beacon, his first love, and the thousands of Ursa he killed with his bare hands." He scratched his chin. "Still trying to figure out what an Ursa is."
"It's a type of Grimm, I think," Egrer shrugged. "Anyway, let's get to the important stuff—have you found a part-time job yet?" Jaune immediately gloomed over.
"I found one. Hard not to when that Sarah woman texts me almost every day demanding I pay back my debt."
"What debt?" he asked cautiously. "Don't tell me you took out a loan with her..."
"No, she just thinks she didn't 'help me out on credit,' but rather that she gave me seventy thousand Lien."
"Typical."
Yort emerged from the classroom, instantly pushing Jaune to the background. Before the Vacuo giant could complain about the brain-dead questions or even take a breath of fresh air, Egrer pounced on him.
"Odds that Madge is plotting something?"
"Ninety-nine percent," came the immediate reply. "That's obvious anyway."
"True, I need to ask more specific questions." Egrer tapped his chin thoughtfully with a finger. "Odds that we get reprimanded?"
"Four hundredths of a percent."
"Odds she gets hauled into the Headmaster's office?"
"Ninety-nine."
"Odds I go home happy with whatever Madge did?"
"Three tenths of a percent."
"Odds we face any kind of disciplinary sanctions?"
"Two and a half."
"How is that even possible?" Egrer started massaging his temples. What the hell was Magenta going to do to generate numbers like that? On the other hand, a ninety-nine percent chance meant that one time out of a hundred, the outcome still wouldn't happen.
Every time Egrer formulated these kinds of questions for Yort, he felt himself getting smarter. The mental gymnastics required to get a straight answer were insane! It was always like this with Magenta; Yort's Semblance simply couldn't properly predict the actions of an emissary of pure chaos and chance. It was much easier to ask, "Are we gonna kick that cocky blonde's ass?" and get his reliable percentages.
"I'm just not phrasing the questions right. Give me another minute."
"And how long are you gonna keep 'phrasing' them?"
"Umm... what's going on?" Jaune gently interjected. He didn't know about Yort's Semblance and looked completely lost.
"Who the fuck are you? Get lost, wimp."
"You seriously don't recognize him?" Egrer asked. "I literally introduced you guys at the club."
"I don't memorize weaklings," Yort snorted, looking at Jaune like he was a bug. Jaune, in turn, held out his hand with an awkward smile.
"My mom always said that strangers are just friends you haven't met yet."
"Yeah? And what's that got to do with anything?" They shook hands. Something definitely cracked, and Egrer looked around for the source of the sound. "Great replacement I've got, not gonna lie..."
"Hey, don't say that! You're irreplaceable!" the leader protested, waving his hands.
"Yeah, my Semblance is very useful to you."
"Yort! That's not what I meant, and you know it!"
"You want to 'make friends' with him too?" Yort ignored his words entirely. "Or did you finally act like a normal person?"
"He owes me nothing," Egrer replied defiantly, crossing his arms. It would have been downright cruel to demand anything from Jaune, knowing he was already on the hook for seventy grand. "And yes, I want to be friends with him. I'm actually a very friendly guy, if you haven't noticed."
"I don't give a shit." The Vacuo bandit turned to leave but threw a few parting words over his shoulder. "Wimp, stay away from this manipulator."
Egrer glared darkly at his back. No matter what was said or done, Yort would always believe he was being used. A dead end. How was he supposed to cure him of this paranoia? This was a job for an experienced therapist.
"Jaune." Egrer turned to his new friend. The blond was blowing on his hand and didn't immediately register that he was being addressed; he had even missed the entire speech about Egrer being a manipulator. "Jaune! How do you convince someone you have good intentions if they see a devious plot in your every move?"
"Well... I don't know."
"Me neither. Guess you can't." Egrer adjusted his tie and sighed heavily. "Do you know how to play any musical instruments?"
***
"Headmaster Ozpin! You found her! Praise the Twin Gods!" The most influential man in Remnant was leading a smiling Magenta. Beside them walked Miss Goodwitch, whom Egrer had practically threatened with the end of the world if they didn't locate one flighty girl who answered to no one and nothing.
"Was it really worth it?" Yort asked skeptically. His thug mentality wouldn't even allow the possibility of asking the "cops" for help. Though he hadn't fought the idea too hard—mostly just for show.
Illmond couldn't care less; he was making up for lost time with his brand-new scroll. Oh, how happy he was to be reunited with it after the test!
"I'm so sorry, Headmaster, she's always been like this!..." Egrer began to stammer out excuses, earning a displeased sigh from Yort.
Their Vacuo bandit also worshiped the cult of strength, but while Egrer sought to either serve the strong or run away from them, Yort chose the difficult and pointless path of resistance. Then again, in Vacuo, fighting to the bitter end was the norm; there, you either fought or you died. Mistral had slightly different laws. There, a third path existed: servitude. That was exactly how Egrer had met his family.
Meanwhile, the leader continued making excuses for Magenta.
"...When she gets an idea in her head, no one can talk her out of it. Please don't punish her for getting lost; she just wanted to take a walk!"
"She didn't get lost," the Headmaster said. "She was in my office this entire time."
"Precisely," Miss Goodwitch sighed. During the two hours of searching, she had nearly declared a full-scale rescue operation for a single pseudo-student. "If I had only guessed immediately... I could have spent that time grading papers..."
Wait, in the Headmaster's office?! Egrer's breath hitched.
"She didn't do anything that could get her expelled, did she? We haven't even passed Initiation yet!"
"No, Miss Toti came to me voluntarily," he took a sip from his mug, "to tell me about her octopus."
Any and all cognitive activity in Egrer's brain abruptly ceased. Every single neuron simply extinguished in the blink of an eye, died, went on strike, or took maternity leave. The Headmaster of Beacon, presumably during his working hours, had let Magenta into his office and spent all that time listening to her talk about her pet. This was insane. Absolute insanity.
"Uh..." His body moved his mouth without his brain's involvement. "Is that the one... the one..."
"Yes, Ozpinopus." The Headmaster just said it. Just like that.
"Understood."
"The Headmaster is soooo nice," Magenta chimed, smiling from ear to ear. Ozpin gave a slight wave with his mug, accepting the compliment.
Egrer froze. Even his body was in shock, paralyzed in spacetime. Forgetting himself, he stared into the eyes of the Headmaster, the strongest man in the world and the most influential Huntsman alive. Egrer searched for clues. But he found nothing except a returning gaze and a slightly raised eyebrow. Suddenly, his brain sparked and sluggishly kickstarted its gears. But it was merely a dying breath.
Oh no... it can't be... are he... and she... on the same wavelength?
***
"Such a strong bond of friendship between them, did you notice?" The Headmaster nodded toward the departing quartet of applicants, the strongest of whom was currently carrying their leader over his shoulder. The boy still hadn't snapped out of his stupor.
"I noticed that only one of them has legitimate documents."
"It would be very sad if an already functional team were to suddenly be separated." Ozpin acted as if he hadn't heard his deputy's remark at all. Usually, that meant nothing good. Goodwitch cleaned her glasses—the only sign that she was highly concerned.
"What are you hinting at?"
"Oh, nothing, just thinking out loud. How are the preparations for Initiation coming along?"