Omniscient POV
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"The cry of silence speaks louder than the whisper of speech. A hero works best in the absence of sound."
In the snack aisle of a convenience store, a large man with a worn leather backpack and a bronze plated beanie weighed two different potato chip bags in his hands.
However, his dilemma was halted by the rising number of voices bouncing back and forth at the front counter where the manager and a dog-eared Faunus woman had a standoff.
"All this together is only thirty lien," said the Faunus woman. She jabbed a finger at the price tags on the various amounts of convenience foods between them. "How did it suddenly become a hundred?"
The manager's lips pressed into a firm line. "It just is."
"Okay, look, I don't have time for this." She placed several lien on the counter. "I'll pay what I have now, and I'll give you the rest tomorrow."
"Pay it all now," he gestured at the darkness staring back from outside the window, "or try somewhere else."
"It's already late." She gulped and her voice quivered. "I won't make it anywhere else. And it's not safe to stay out for too long at night."
"That's your problem."
"Just let me take the food. I'll pay the rest tomorrow, I promise."
He flushed up to his ears. "I already told you, you can't."
"Please." The skin on the side of the woman's palms blanched against the edge of the counter. "At least for my daughter's sake, let her eat."
The manager huffed and looked the other way.
Several of the onlookers muttered their pity for the Faunus while some of them grinned at the way tears slicked her eyes.
The man with the beanie and backpack did neither of those.
He stuffed both potato chip bags in a basket full of snacks and, much to everyone's shock, approached the counter as if it were any other day.
"Sorry about all of this." The manager scanned the items and set them in a bag. "Is that all for you today?"
The Faunus glanced at the total price displayed on the register, and she slapped the counter hard enough to make everything on it jump.
"Why didn't you raise the price for him, huh?! Is it because I'm not human?" She flicked her dog ears. "Just because I have these doesn't mean you can—"
The man with the beanie cut her off with a wave of his arm and swept her items in front of him.
Everyone's eyes widened.
"Don't tell me you plan on paying for the mutt?" The manager whipped a finger at the shelves. "Those are going back where they came from!"
He turned a deaf ear and opened his wallet.
"You listening to me, boy?" He smacked his wallet away. "They ain't for sale anymore."
The blank expression on his face changed as much as a statue could move, and the longer the manager glared deeper into his darkened eyes, the more they resembled the gun barrels of a firing squad.
"Tell me." Danger growled in the voice of the man with the beanie. "Do you know who I am?"
The manager recomposed himself and shook his head.
"Good." He snatched his collar and yanked him over the counter. "I'm gonna show you, asshole."
Minutes later, the man with the beanie strolled the sandy evening streets in the city of Vacuo with a plastic bag in either hand. The dog-eared woman was by his side, dabbing the golden handkerchief he lent her on her eyes while his vest draped across her shoulders.
After setting the manager straight, he offered to take her home.
Although wary, she agreed and he never spoke a word since, ignoring the cheers of the other customers or any small talk she tried to make.
They rounded the corner to find her beat up but liveable apartment complex and made way up to her room.
"We're here." The door hinges screamed as she opened the door. "Thank you again for doing all of this. I'm Cerise, by the way."
He dropped her bag behind the threshold.
Cerise scooted the bag aside and returned his belongings. "You know, I never got your name."
He stared.
She frowned and gestured inside. "Do you need a drink? It's the least I could do for you."
He shook his head and put on his vest, stuffing the handkerchief away in a pocket.
"I won't bite," she said with a giggle.
A light snort escaped him, but his decision remained unchanged.
Her ears folded. "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
"W-well, then, I guess this is goodbye." Shoulders slumped, she pulled the door closer to the frame. "In any case, it was really nice to meet—"
His arm wedged between the gap, and she gasped as he pointed to the window at the end of the hall.
"There's a place called Violette Gardens not far from here," he said. "Tell them I sent you. You'll be hired on the spot."
Cerise's jaw fell open. "W-what?"
"Go and get a better job."
"I mean," she snapped out of her awe, "how'd you know that I needed a better one in the first place?"
He gestured to the groceries bags, to the creaky hinges, and then to her own worn out clothing.
At that moment, Cerise's face forgot how to function. It jumped between many different emotions until it came to terms and settled for untamed elation.
The door blew away, and she strangled him in a death hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
He growled and pried her off.
"I'll repay you for this," she wiped away a stray tear, "I promise!"
"Alexander," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"So they know who sent you." He walked away and glanced back at her. "Say it was Alexander."
Without another word, he left, and Cerise offered her gratitude one last time before wishing him a good night's rest.
Outside the complex, Alexander cracked open a can of soda and took the usual, quiet route home, but he only made it two blocks when an obstacle sauntered into the street lights from within an alley and blocked his path.
"You know, dangerous people walk about Vacuo at this time of night," the thug said. He tapped a pipe against his shoulder. "If you're not careful, they might nab ya if they get the chance."
Several more matching coloured thugs swarmed the streets after him, all wielding crude or simple weapons.
"Now," the thug leader pointed the pipe at him, "do the smart thing and give us what ya got."
Alexander's rather calm, bored even, demeanor never wavered. He discarded his bag, tossed the can in a nearby recycling bin, and shrugged off his backpack.
The grin melted from the leader's face, and he jerked his head. "Get him."
When they moved, Alexander fixed the straps along his arm. He twisted a switch and it folded inside out, expanding into a concave disc with a messy splotch of red paint sprayed across the bronze metal surface.
The thugs faltered, and Alexander lowered himself behind the shield big enough to cover him from chin to knee.
"B-boss," one of the thugs said, "this guy means business!"
"I can see that, idiot!" The leader shoved a few men closer. "So what if he has a fancy shield. We still outnumber him!"
Alexander grunted and reared back.
Around him, the atmosphere swirled. Energy gathered in pulses in front of the shield. The thugs sensed it, and it would be an understatement to say the hairs on their necks stood on ends.
The pulsations sped faster to its apex, and once it reached it, Alexander jerked forward, unleashing thunderous winds that blasted the mob.
Half the group, a fog of sand, and everything not bolted down flew to the ends of the street.
Those who weren't caught in the gust squealed and tripped over their own feet, scurrying as far away as possible. Others gathered into defensive groups, failing to see the danger headed their way.
Alexander slapped them with the oversized disc or catapulted them against the side of buildings or into trash cans. Those who flanked the rear learned fast it wasn't as easy as it seemed. He had a three-sixty guard and unexpected agility protecting him from all sides.
A wooden bat snapped into splinters against the shield. Alexander waved the disc into the thug hard enough to bowl him through pins of people. From the side, a thug charged with a chain wrapped around his arm. Alexander blocked the strike. He jabbed the shield's thin rim into his gut, all four of his limbs flung out like sticks, and blasted him straight up in the air. Before he could go too far, Alexander grabbed the chain and wrecking balled him into a group too close for their own good.
The leader whirled and ran straight into a brick wall. He howled. Not a single soul heard him except for the massive silhouette standing not too far behind.
Alexander drew closer, his footfalls roaring louder with each step.
"Get away from me!" He picked up whatever he could throw but either missed wildly or clanged off the face of the shield. "Take this!"
The leader swung his pipe. It dinged off the bronze plates of Alexander's beanie, and in return, he took a punch to the chest and bounced against the wall.
Alexander tossed his shield and fed him a rapid flurry of body shots and haymakers. With a boot to the stomach, he sent the leader crashing through the wall, burying him in a bed of brick and mortar.
Alexander snorted and he put away his shield.
The rustling bag of snacks past the groveling thugs caught his eye. He retrieved it, and after seeing everything was still surprisingly intact, he continued on his stroll home like nothing ever happened.