The night was quiet, shrouding the town in an eerie silence. The certainty of trouble hung within the air, cloaking every bit of safety that could have been felt. Darkness closed on the towering buildings and suffocated any flickering light. The only indication of life was the small boy running, gasps forcing their way out of his mouth even as he tried to stop. His vibrant orange hair was tucked under a hood; his need to be unseen was essential, and his hair was hard to hide.

The boy continued to run through the dark alley, apartment buildings stretching to the sky on either side. Trash littered the slim street, and in his haste, the boy nearly fell on his face as he tripped over an eskew trash bag. His ragged tennis shoes slapped the pavement as they increased their pace. He didn't dare look back for fear of what he might find.

Anger snaked its way up his throat as he remembered the frightening scene. He didn't understand how this had happened, especially in the city of Vale. And the huntsman…

A howl pierced the silence, and the boy jumped in fear. His speed increased, and he was practically sprinting now. His eyes barely registered what was in front of him, and he stumbled every few moments in his hurry.

Far back, he could hear the huffing and grunting of a Grimm. He wasn't sure how far the Grimm was from him, but it was sure on his tail, tracking his scent. Tears welled in his green eyes for he knew his life would soon be over. There was no way he could outrun Grimm, and he barely knew how to fight. He had just started combat school, but he didn't believe he could fight a Grimm. He didn't even have a weapon.

The boy took a sharp turn, hoping to throw off the Grimm as he veered into a different alley. He knew he couldn't really trick the Beowolf, as it had phenomenal scent and a longer stride. It wouldn't be long until it caught up to him and ended his short life.

Even as his life was screeching to a halt, the boy couldn't help but burn with fury. The city of Vale was protected, not only by Atlas military, but also by huntsmen and huntresses. How a Grimm had gained access to the city was beyond the boy's comprehension. However, the rest of the situation baffled him even more.

The boy had been enjoying a lovely evening with his parents. As he was at combat school, he had rarely seen them much in the past year, so this short time seemed to quench his desire to see them. As a gift to him, his parents had taken him to dinner and decided to take a walk around town before he must return to school.

On their walk, the boy skipped around his parents, delighted to see them. He reverted back and forth between walking politely with them and running ahead, waiting impatiently for them to catch up.

"Roman!" his mother called once when he ran too far ahead. "Come back, dear! That's a bit too far."

Roman turned to look at his parents. His mother's bright hair shone the same shade as his own, and it was laid in curls across her shoulders, radiating happiness as much as her smile did. Her hand was clasped in his father's, grasping tightly as if she had a fear of floating away. Her flowered dress blew slightly with the soft wind, and her body shimmered with it. She seemed to be part of the wind, just an illusion, but Roman knew it was her. He could walk up to her and hold her hand if he wanted, just to prove she was real, that she wouldn't fly away with the wind.

"Mom, I'm just having fun!" Roman yelled back. "I promise I won't go too far!" A smirk played across his lips, for his mother knew he was always trying to sneak his way out of trouble.

Roman skipped a few more steps before he heard the sounds that would end his happiness. He could hear the breathing of a large being, as it wasn't quiet in any way. His mother's scream rang in his ears, and his head whipped in her direction. His mother stood alone, the large Beowolf behind her. Her hands were covering her mouth, tears already streaming down her face. Roman's eyes flicked around, searching for his father. They found him thirty feet to the right, but it wasn't pretty. He was a mangled mess, blood streaming out from him, limbs turned in ways they shouldn't be. He was barely discernable in the pool of blood, his shirt the same color.

The Beowolf roared, standing on its hind legs before resuming its hunt of Roman's mother. However, something behind the Grimm caught Roman's eye: a man covered in dark clothes, barely discernable from the shadows in which he stood. The only thing that caught Roman's eye was the glint of the street light off his glasses. Roman couldn't make out what weapon he held, but he knew he was a huntsman.

"Help!" Roman screamed to the huntsman. "Please!"

Despite Roman's pleas, the huntsman didn't move from his spot. He watched the scene underneath the black shroud of darkness, refusing to help. Roman's desperation was rising to a peak, and he averted his eyes back to his mother. The Beowolf was right next to her, and she knew her fate had been sealed. She, however, refused to let it take her son as well.

"Roman, run!" she yelled desperately. "Please, Roman, run!"

Roman was glued to the spot in fear. His mother gave him one last look, her face pained and tear-stained. She held a hand out to him, her slender, delicate hand that he so loved to hold on to.

"Please, run," she begged, and then in one swift movement, the Beowolf engulfed her in his mouth, the only visible part left being her small hand and a strip of her orange hair, so similar to Roman's own.

His mother's death unearthed him, and he followed as she asked him to do. He turned and ran, but not before looking once more at the sulking huntsman. He still had not moved, just stood cloaked, his arms crossed, an indiscernible weapon in his hand, and leaning against the wall as if this was a normal walk in the park, not one in which innocent citizens died at the hands of Grimm.

And now, Roman was running for his life, hoping to keep his own while his parents were robbed of theirs, and a huntsman stood a bystander.

As Roman turned another corner, he risked a glance back, and his heart jumped into his throat. The Beowolf had easily caught up, mere moments from ending his life. Tears leaked onto Roman's cheek as he begged silently for his life to whatever would listen.

As Roman's mind was preoccupied with his pleas, he failed to glimpse the tiny colorful girl in the doorway of a building farther up the alley. This small girl closed her discolored eyes and held out her hand, palm facing toward the running boy and Grimm, concentrating on what she hoped to see.

Within moments, Roman realized the sounds of the Grimm changed, as it now started to snarl, but it didn't seem as close. He looked over his shoulder, and what he saw jarred him as much as his mother's death. The Beowolf, stopped now, was towering over Roman, ready to attack.

But how could this be? thought Roman. I am here. Has my soul escaped my body?

As the Grimm swiped a paw at the identical boy on the ground, Roman heard a small squeak. He turned again, back the way he had been running, and he finally saw the odd girl. What was a young child doing near dark alone?

The howl of the Beowolf forced Roman's attention again. It stood on its hind legs, infuriated as its red eyes glowed brighter. However, the image of the boy had disappeared. The Grimm prepared to charge again.

The squeak sounded again. The girl beckoned Roman to her, and he didn't have to be told twice. The young girl closed her eyes again, presuming the same stance as before. Roman set his head down and began the sprint to her. He could hear the Grimm in close pursuit, but as he neared the girl, he felt as if the Grimm was yet again distracted.

Roman made it to the door as the girl collapsed. Glancing at the Beowolf, he saw the same scene yet again, but this seemed fuzzier. Less real. He picked up the girl before closing the door and trudging through the unknown building, hoping the Grimm would forget where they were.

Roman crept down a tight hallway, searching for parents or any adults in general, but he found nothing save for abandoned apartments. Climbing to the top floor, he entered the largest apartment yet, which occupied the entire top floor. He set the girl on a musty, tattered couch in the living room before ensuring no one was within the apartment. He searched the three bedrooms, two bathrooms, four closets, kitchen, and living room, but the place was entirely abandoned.

Returning to the living room, he checked on the girl. She was almost two feet shorter than Roman, probably half his age. Her beautiful hair was fanned out around her head, one half a deep chocolate brown, the other half strawberry pink paired with white highlights. She adorned a black tanktop that was slightly too large for her and covered the black shorts underneath. Her feet were bare, but they were nearly black from dirt.

The girl gasped, her eyes snapping open, startling Roman. Her eyes were just as odd as her hair. They shone a bright white, but they immediately started to fade into one brown and one pink, same as her hair. She stared at Roman with her unusual eyes as if waiting for something.

"Do you have a name?" Roman asked, hoping to thank this girl for saving his life. His voice disturbed the still silence.

The girl stared at him, refusing to answer. Roman waited a few minutes before asking again.

"No name? My name is Roman."

Again, the girl didn't answer, just stared at him with unsettling eyes. However, her small lips curved up at the corners. She set a hand on his knee. An idea struck Roman, and his eyes widened.

"C-can you speak?" he inquired.

She looked down for a moment before returning her gaze to his. Her smile was gone, and her brow was furrowed. She shook her head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. May I give you a name?"

Once again the girl detached her gaze before turning back, her smile returned. She nodded.

Roman contemplated her unusual appearance, yet undertook how beautiful and stunning it was. He had never seen anyone so different.

"Well, I think I'll call you Neo."

Neo's smile grew.