Catch Me if You Can (Male Reader x Ruby Rose) RWBY

Vol 4 Part 5

(3rd Person POV)

Aloysius left and walked into the doctor's building. It was further away from the other residences, closer to the banquet hall where everyone ate. He didn't bother to attempt to overhear anything; he simply walked straight into the room.

There were a dozen men in the room and their gazes all shot to him immediately as he entered, unannounced.

Aloysius: Oh, I'm very sorry. Am I interrupting something?

While he enjoyed acting the part of a shadow, there were occasions that called for a more... illuminated approach.

Logan's ongoing presence around had raised his hackles more than he'd even realized before today. He felt the sudden and driving need to assert his position and son of the doctor.

Malcom: This...

Malcom got up from his raised seat at the table, always a step above everyone else.

Malcom: Is my son, Aloysius Ectrea.

Instead of an expression of outrage at the interruption, there was a small bemused smile on the king's lips at Aloysius' unannounced entrance. Logan simply glared at him, as if enraged on behalf of the doctor by Aloysius' extreme rudeness.

Herz: It's a great honor to meet the famous son of the doctor, who discovered the Source.

A man's deep voice sounded out, and Aloysius moved his gaze to his left.

Herz: I am General Herz of Sanus.

Aloysius: The honor is ours General Herz. Welcome to Solitas.

Malcom: Join us, my son.

Aloysius restrained himself from making a remark about missing the invitation earlier and sat down across from the general and four of his men.

Herz: Shall we fill your son in on what we've discussed so far?

Malcom: Of course.

Malcom's attention hadn't left his son since he'd entered the room. Even without looking, Aloysius felt his father's gaze like a burning press along the length of his scar. A cool line of sweat slid down his spine, even though he tried his best to look completely at ease.

Malcom was quick to anger, and Aloysius knew firsthand what it was like to be punished if he pushed too far. After all, he had the scar to prove it.

When he was younger, in a place completely unfamiliar, Aloysius had come across a display case of things, unlike any other, and felt the overwhelming urge to steal a cane with a grey handle and golden gears before the shaft.

In Solitas, any tools or weapons, such as a cane, were not as beautiful and ornate as this. They were practical and useful, forged from steel or iron. He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything else in his eight years of life.

His father caught him as he drew the cane from this case. He had been so enraged that his son would steal, potentially damaging his name in the process, that he'd lashed out with a blade that seemed to come from nowhere. All Aloysius saw was his right arm come forward.

Immediately, he'd regretted his violent turn. But instead of helping Aloysius and bandaging his wound, he'd knelt down before his son and spoke in a low, dangerous tone while blood dripped from the little boy's face and onto the shiny marble floor.

He'd coldly threatened Aloysius' life and his little sister's life. Aloysius was not to ever tell anyone how he'd receive this injury, and to go outside before anyone saw him.

To this day, he never had. He was reminded of this threat and his father's mindless rage every time he looked in the mirror.

But he was not an eight-year-old boy anymore. He was eighteen. Just as tall as his father was. And just as strong. He didn't want to be afraid any longer.