Male!Timelord!Reader in RWBY (Cancelled!)

Chapter 2: Dust Town Gun Fight

H/C: Hair Colour

H/L: Hair Length

N/L: Nose Length

E/C: Eye Colour

S/C: Skin Colour

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The door of 'From Dust Till Dawn' slammed open with a start as a finely dressed, ginger man forcefully made his way in, followed by a gaggle of indistinguishably similar men - all in black and red, which was a stark contrast to their leader's white suit. Roman Torchwick took one last puff of his cigar, before removing it from his mouth and flicking its ashes onto the counter before him, his men looking intently at the tubes of Dust at each end of the store. Crossing his arms, he looked down at the shopkeeper - over whom he towered by at least a foot - and quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a dust shop open this late?" Questioned Roman, a loud electronic 'whirr' crying out from one of his men's guns as it powered up. The shopkeep immediately leaned back in fear, hands raised in terrified surrender as he was held at gun point.

"Please!" The old man pleaded, his body quivering. "Just take my lien and leave--" Roman cut him off, shushing him as he rolled his shoulders a small bit.

"Calm down," he muttered, mockingly trying to placate the shopkeep, his voice carrying a patronising edge, "we're not here for your money." He turns his head towards one of his cronies, scowling as he says "Grab the dust."

Clicking open a case of glass cases, the men set off to steal the Dust from their tubes, but pause when they see someone else in front of them - a somewhat damp looking boy staring at his own reflection in horror, as though seeing it for the first time.

"Good lord," he says, half whispering and half yelling, "I look like fresh out of the Loom." Raising a hand anxiously to his head, he ruffled his [H/C] hair around, tugging and pulling at it, rolling the [H/L] strands between his fingers. "This wasn't what I meant by young." The boy sighs to himself, rubbing the bridge of his [N/L] nose, muttering: "Be careful what you wish for."

Pulling their faces into a tight scowl, the men saunter over to the boy, guns in one hand and Dust cases in the other. "Alright kid," one of the men begins, his gun whirring as it comes to life, "put your hands where I can see 'em."

The boy stops for a moment, slowly turning strangely old seeming [E/C] eyes towards them. "Ah, hello. Didn't see you there. Tell me, what do you think?" He raised his hands up to either side of his head, pushing up his [H/C] hair. "Does it frame my face well? I'm still not quite sure myself."

"I said hands in the air, kid." The thug began, his finger moving to the trigger. The boy furrowed his brow, hands slowly drifting down towards his breast pocket.

"But...my hands are in the air?" He recieved a sneer in response from the suited man, his temper waring dangerously thin.

"Really funny, wise guy. I said. Put your hands in the--"

In the blink of an eye, the boy swing out a tall, metallic looking wand, and pointed it straight at the thugs' guns. The sonic screwdriver made a buzzing sound, and in return their guns gave a sharp 'click', before small sparks spat from the barrels.

"What the--?!" The gangsters - though you couldn't see their eyes through their sunglasses - seemed shocked, but quickly hid it behind another cowl. "Alright, that's it kid, you asked for it!" Collectively, they all tugged their fingers on the trigger, their barrels aimed directly for your head. Another click. The guns didn't fire. The men stared at their weapons in horror, whilst the boy gave a cocky grin.

"Word of advice, boys, never bring an electronic gun," you raised your tool triumphantly in the air, twirling it around in your fingers, "to a sonic screwdriver fight."

Roman looked over from the counter, red Dust crystal in his hand, in mild irritation, before giving a look to the men before you. "Ah," you said, eyes widening as they began drawing long, red blades, "now that on the other hand is probably quite a good choice for a sonic screwdriver fight." You took a step back, and in return they took a step forward. Suddenly, the loud sound of glass shattering jolts you and your soon-to-be-attackers and they quickly whip their head around to the cause of the noise.

Seeing a strange girl in a red hood flying out onto the street, an idea pops into your mind, and with a smirk you quickly use your sonic screwdriver on the window beside you, shattering it into a million fine pieces. The sword-wielding gangsters - realising what's going on - turn back to stop you, but by then they're already too late, you having clambered out of the window and onto the street with the girl - who was crouched down. The two of you exchange a look (during which you note that she - strangely - has silver eyes), before turning back to face Roman and his men. Slowly, she rises to her feet, and in her hand a huge, blood-red metal scythe begins unfurling in her grasp. Her cape billows behind her, and she turns her head to smirk at the gaggle of gangsters watching you two.

Standing next to her, you felt woefully inadequate, what with your physically unimpressive sonic probe, and your soggy waistcoat and shirt that clung onto your body making you shiver in the wind. Rolling your [E/C] orbs, you muttered: "Show off." Before getting into a battle stance yourself. Since you were lacking a true weapon like little red riding hood beside you, it seemed like you were going to have to do it the old-fashioned way, silently thanking your cousin Karuso for teaching you Venusian Aikido during your time on Gallifrey.

The girl twirled her scythe around expertly, as though she were an acrobat twirling a baton, before aggressively slamming it into the pavement, cracking it. Whilst you personally had your doubts about it being particularly good tactically, you quietly admitted to yourself that it was extremely intimidating. Roman stared towards the pair of you, a heavy silence in the air as all three of you stood perfectly still, waiting for someone to make a move. "Okay..." Roman says, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice as he dragged out the word, before he looked from left to right at his men. "Get them." He tells them passive-aggressively. Like a dog kneeling before its master, the gangsters obeyed, one by one running through the door towards you. Feeling your freshly grown [S/C] skin tingle with energy once more, you roll your shoulders.

Look's like you've got a fight on your hands.