RWBY 1. Chapter 1

**Alright, boys and girls of the amazing RWBY Fandom. Relks the Disturbed here, coming at you with a new and fresh chapter one.**

**After I looked over the first chapter several times and looked over my views, I realized that my chapter one was severely lacking in comparison to all my other work in this story. So, I fixed it. To all of you who've been with this project for awhile now, I sincerely hope that this new version pleases all of you. If this is your first time reading this story, then please, enjoy my work and leave any criticism you feel like I need.**

**And now, on with the show!**

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><p><strong>January 1st, 9:40p.m., 451 A.G.<strong>

The Sun had set a few hours ago on the first day of a new year. As the darkness settled out across the sprawling Kingdom of Vale, one building in particular stood out against the dark. Beacon Academy shone out bright against the shadows and gloom from its place atop the cliffs above the sea, it's emerald namesake casting a faint light across all of the school grounds.

This emerald light even fell into the office of the prestigious Academy's Headmaster. Professor Ozpin relaxed back into the heavily cushioned chair at his desk, eyes flickering up from his computer terminal to glance at the bookshelves that lined two of the walls in the room. With a lamenting sigh he turned away from the walls of tomes back to the computer terminal.

On the screen was a collection of portrait thumbnail pictures. Twelve pictures were stacked to the left side of the monitor. The top row consisted of four girls, each wearing a definitive red, white, black and yellow. The girls of Team RWBY. The second row was of a nervous looking blonde, a confident girl with crimson hair, a bubbly orange-haired girl with a huge grin, and a nonchalant-looking dark haired young man. The four members of Team JNPR.

The third and final row, however, was one not commonly known to the people of Beacon Academy. Only Ozpin's trusted assistant, Glynda Goodwitch, and Ozpin himself knew of these four: A figure clad in the hooded black cloak, a smooth white mask with nought but two black circles for eyes adorning the figure's face. Next was a young man with a smug grin, his styled back hair and eyes both the color of blood. Two dark haired girls comprised the last half of the row, both similar yet undeniably opposite. One's long ebony tresses flowed down straight as a board, the top of her head concealed beneath a black beret that drew out the contrast of her disciplined ashen blue eyes. The last's hair billowed and cascaded down in a nearly untamed yet somehow well-kept mess, her own dark green eyes glaring at the camera with a look of distaste. They were Ozpin's secret, one of his few trump cards that he kept up his sleeve for special occasions.

"The root of the problem however remains unsolved," Ozpin gave a tired sigh and reached for his ever-present coffee mug. He sipped at the contents with joy, the warm liquid bringing a modicum of energy back into him. Setting the mug back down, he looked at the right side of the monitor: Four blank spaces for portraits to go. Four people yet undecided.

'_How to decide the ones to watch over others…. They'll have to be patient to deal with all of them. Especially Xiao Long and Ashworth….' _he mused to himself as he stared into the contents of his coffee mug.

Due to the increasingly dangerous situations arising in the Kingdom of Vale, Ozpin needed to implement new special policies. One of these policies was the institution of a new chaperon rule: Groups of first-year Teams would all be assigned an older, more experienced Team to watch over and help them develop. The only problem was the special circumstance of the three Teams on the screen. Team RWBY had a particular penchant for finding trouble, and JNPR as their friends was never far behind. Not to mention Ozpin's secret Team's own host of issues…

"Professor Ozpin," a refined, feminine voice snapped Ozpin from his musings. Hazel eyes glanced up from over their glasses, meeting sharp green as they emerged from the gloom across the office. There stood Glynda Goodwitch herself, her dignified air maintaining itself as she walked across the room with her black scroll in hand.

"What is it, Glynda?" the Headmaster's eyebrow rose in curiosity, his mug again in hand as Glynda came to stand next to him. She presented her scroll to him with a frown, tapping in a currently running news feed.

"_This is Lisa Lavender, reporting this gruesome story as more information is made apparent. Just moments ago, White Fang insurgents attacked and captured an office building in downtown Vale. Reports have come in that the building is a subsidiary of the Schnee Dust Company, a section of the marketing branch of the well-known company. Word has come in that police are hesitant to storm the building due to hostages taken by the terrorist group. They are demanding a high ransom for the release of the company employees."_

"That is quite the problem," Ozpin murmured into his cup as he took a sip, his eyebrow still raised in question to Glynda.

"Professor Ozpin, the Vale Police Department has requested that we send a team of Hunters to assist them," Glynda explained plainly, taking back her scroll and pulling up another file in the device. "However all full-fledged Huntsmen and Huntresses are outside of the Kingdom on assignment and all fourth and third year students are currently travelling the country as part of their training."

"That leaves only the first and second years," Glynda commented with a frown as her fingers flickered over the screen.

"Along with the school faculty," Ozpin added as he contemplated the problem, swirling the coffee idly in his mug. "But the only teachers on campus until tomorrow are us, Bartholomew and Peter. Too few to risk leaving the school unattended while the White Fang are this active, correct?"

"Yes, Professor," Glynda nodded, a feeling of unease settling over as she realized what Ozpin was implying. "Sir, you can't mean to send students for this?"

"We don't have much choice, Glynda," came Ozpin's muted reply as he sipped from his mug again. "Which second year teams still have their Scrolls active?"

Glynda wordlessly looked down, her fingers dancing across the display of her Scroll, opening up a built-in feature of all Beacon Academy distributed Scrolls that allowed teachers to see who still had theirs active. Rules of the school dictated that students were to keep their Scrolls active while not preparing to go to sleep, allowing teachers to constantly monitor the rambunctious youths in their care.

"It seems only one second-year team is awake, Professor.…Team Bulwark."

The same faint green light that permeated Professor Ozpin's office also found its way through the large gallery windows that lined the library of Beacon Academy. The soft green glow gave a slightly eerie feeling to the mostly darkened archive of knowledge, save for a single round table with a candelabra-style electrical lamp casting a golden glow across the table, revealing papers, text books, and the four students sitting there.

First of the four was a petite, slightly pale girl, only just five feet and two inches tall, with long brown hair that reached all the way to her shoulder blades. Two rabbit ears rose from the brunette's head, both of them crimped and riddled with small pink scars, the left ear remaining constantly bent in half while the right drooped next to it. The girl's bangs came to a stop above her violet eyes, as they scanned across the paper in front of her again. A black hoodie with purple pullstrings and zipper clad her torso over a black blouse with a slightly frilled front, a black and purple pleated skirt covering her legs nearly to her knees, where black stockings trailed down the length of her legs to her purple sneakers.

Second was a tall, lean young man with short and messy white hair and pale skin, who would have stood at six feet and one inches had he been standing. A pair of snow-white wolf ears topped his head as his golden eyes casually read across a textbook as his right hand scrawled works across a paper. His features were handsome, angular and contemplative as he rested his chin in his left hand. He wore a hooded black canvas jacket with a tall collar in front,, four large pockets placed vertically with two on either side of the zipper, over a t-shirt so dark blue to as almost be black. Black jeans clad his legs, held in place by a grey belt with a dull golden buckle. His feet were wrapped in comfortable black leather boots with thin, soft soles.

Third was a somewhat shorter man, at five feet and ten inches, a skin tone closer to peach than white, with mid-length black hair. Said hair was styled back away from his face and down the back of his head, with a single spike-like lock of hair hanging down near each of his temples. His electric blue eyes with half lidded as he lay his torso on the table. His face was noble, handsome and refined, or would have been if not for the sleepy daze he was in. He wore a dark gray coat, two rows of traditional buttons running up its center to a over and under collar, the left side of which was showing while the right side tucked beneath it, the sleeves of the coat accentuating his toned arms as a the collar of a white button-up shirt poked out of the collar of the coat, buttoned tight to the young man's neck. Jeans of a darker gray, close to black, wrapped around his lower body and were added to by a black belt passed through a single loop on his right hip. Dark gray boots, extending up to his mid-calves and bound tight by black straps held by silver buckles finished off his clothing.

The final was a colossus of a man, looking like like an adult sitting at a table of small children in comparison to the others. Had he been on his feet he would have stood at six feet and eight inches, his dark brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he swept a single large hand over his close cropped dark brown hair. His body was exceedingly muscular, belaying great strength as the light of the lamp cast a golden glow onto his tan skin. He wore a simple dark red shirt with short sleeves, along with brown trousers leading down to dark leather boots so brown they were almost black. In front of him were two stacks of papers, one finished and one yet incomplete.

"Hey, Abel, what's the answer to number seven?" the lone female of the group spoke up, pulling the wolf-eared young man to her side's arm to show him the problem she was working on.

"Kazue, I'm not going to just give you the answer," the white-haired wolf Faunus known as Abel replied as he pulled his arm back and indicated the question with his pencil. "Professor Oobleck covered all of this before the break, and the answer is in your textbook. You simply have to find it."

"Ugh, you can't just make this easy for me, can you?" the rabbit-eared Kazue sighed, her right rabbit ear twitching in frustration as she opened her second year history text.

"Abel has a point, you won't gain anything from this work if you don't learn the material yourself," the colossal man commented as he continued working on another paper. Kazue's right ear straightened in irritation, as she cast her smoldering gaze on the much larger man on her right.

"This is all your fault, Leon," she sighed as her rabbit ears settled and she began searching through the relevant chapter of her textbook. "If you hadn't made us spend all of the break working on combat drills instead of doing our actual homework, maybe we wouldn't be working on this stuff for six hours straight. You realize I had six papers for our Physics class, right? And three of those were how Dust both follows and ignores the laws of physics."

"At least you're working," Leon's chocolate eyes looked first at Kazue, then at the gray-clad young man to his right. "Alastair is just laying there. Alastair! Do something, will you? You have homework to do, too."

"No," came the drowsy reply from the gray-clad teen, using his crossed arms as a pillow. "You've had us in this library for the past six hours. You made us skip dinner, and I _hate _missing meals," Alastair complained, keeping his electric-blue eyes closed. "Besides, I was smart enough to do some of my work whenever I got the chance, so I don't have as much as you three."

"Oh, can it and start writing you-" Kazue's insult was cut short as a loud beeping suddenly chimed from Leon's pocket. Curiously, Leon retrieved the small white device and pressed the activation button on its face, allowing the collapsible tablet to expand to full size.

'_**Good evening, Mr. Rosso.**_

_**There is an emergency in Vale that requires Beacon's assistance, and your team is the only one of sufficient training that is available. I happen to know you spent most of your vacation training in the Emerald Forest, so let's put that to use, hmm?**_

_**Gather your team and meet me in my office for your briefing,**_

_**Professor Ozpin.'**_

"An emergency?" Leon muttered, raising his head from the machine to look at his team. All three were now wide awake and looking on expectantly, Leon having subconsciously read the message aloud. "You heard him, guys. Get your things together and lets get going."

The four quickly gathered up all their papers and belongings, stuffing them in their bags. Leon was the last to finish, taking care to keep his completed assignments and his incomplete ones separate in the bag before extinguishing the lamp. Now that all of them stood, the differences in height were readily apparent. Alastair gave a tired sigh as they made to leave, melodramatically dragging his bag behind him.

"Pick up the pace," Leon ordered quietly as he caught up with them, Alastair begrudgingly lifting and shouldering his bag.

The team traveled quickly through the halls of Beacon, using short-cuts they had learned in their time at the school to reduce the twenty minute walk to Ozpin's office in the central tower of the school to just ten short minutes. As they gathered outside the door, each took a moment to ready themselves, standing straighter and settling their bags. Leon moved to the front of the four, knocking on the solid oak.

"Enter."

Leon wasted no time in opening the door, revealing the green-themed office of the school's famous Headmaster. Ozpin sat opposite the door, leaning back into the cushioned leather chair at his desk as his ever-present friend and assistant Glynda Goodwitch stood to his right. The emerald light coming through the windows cast long shadows before Glynda activated the lights, giving the four a sense of foreboding. A wave of Ozpin's hand welcomed them in, as they lined up in front of his desk.

"I apologize for calling you all here at such a late hour, but there is trouble in the Kingdom and we have been asked to lend a hand," Ozpin began as he put down his coffee mug and rose from his chair.

"It seems the White Fang has taken several people hostage at one of the Schnee Dust Company buildings in the commercial district," the enigmatic Headmaster began the briefing, walking around to the front of his desk with the aid of his cane. "The Vale Police Department has requested the aid of a Hunter, but we currently had no Huntsmen or Huntresses that are able to leave the campus grounds without possibly endangering the students here. This has, unfortunately, left you as our only option. The situation is far too delicate for any first-year teams to attempt, and all third and fourth years are still gone on their educational expeditions. Thus you second years are our only choice."

"But, sir, why us?" Kazue spoke up as she took in the information being presented. Ozpin's words meant that they were about to be sent out as an anti-terrorism unit, not the normal Grimm-hunting most students got assigned as extracurriculars. Hunting Grimm was one thing, but fighting people was completely different. A whole mess of things could go wrong while trying to save hostages, so why would he send a group of mere students.

"Partly because there are so few students of capability present right now, and partly because if young Mr. Rosso has spent the majority of your vacation training you all, you are most likely to be able to handle the challenge," Ozpin answered as he leaned against his desk in front of them and drank from his coffee. '_They don't need to know they were the only ones we were able to contact…'_

"Do we know how many hostages they have?" came Abel's question as golden eyes met hazel. A wry smile threatened to crack across Ozpin's face, eliciting another sip from his mug before looking at the tall wolf Faunus again. It always came as a surprise how level-headed Abel was, even when dealing with him in the past. The young man proved to have an exceptionally ability to focus on the matter at hand, something Ozpin was very grateful for.

"There are believed to be seven of them, if what little information the Police Department has is accurate. Though we do not know where they are being held inside the building," Glynda answered before Ozpin had the chance, moving forward and revealing her Scroll. On it was a detailed, skeletal map of the building, a blue-print by the looks of it. "They are most likely holding the hostages in the main conference room on the fourth floor, though the executive office on the top floor is also a likely location."

"Understood," Leon nodded at Glynda's words, politely taking the Scroll and syncing it with his own to give him a copy of the blue-print. "Rules of Engagement?"

"You are to liberate the hostages without casualty, and escort them to the police waiting outside. When you encounter the White Fang members, you are to avoid killing them unless all other options are taken from you. We are Hunters, defenders of the people, not murderers. Am I clear?" Ozpin's objectives were clear and concise, an obvious sign of the years he had spent as the Headmaster of the Academy.

"Yes. sir," all four of the second years answered in unison. Ozpin smiled at their quick understanding of the situation. Though they were all below the age of twenty, they were still one of the best trained teams in their year. If any of the second-years had a chance at pulling this off, it was them.

"Good. You are free to use your own strategy to free the hostages, but please try and keep collateral damage to a minimum," Ozpin concluded the briefing, moving to sit back at his desk once more.

"Um, Professor Ozpin, sir?" Alastair spoke up, politely raising his left hand slightly as if they were in a classroom and not a mission briefing.

"Yes, Alastair?" Ozpin raised his eyebrow at the boy.

"Can we pleeeease get something to eat before we leave? Leon's had us cooped up in that library all afternoon," the gray-clad young man all but begged.

Ozpin's only response was a subdued chuckle, as Glynda glared at the teen for the wanton disregard of the situation, "Yes, Alastair. I will try to arrange something for you on the way there."

"Awesome!" Alastair cheered, the formerly drowsy sudden alive as can be. "C'mon you three, we've got people to save, terrorists to fight, food to eat…." he could be heard muttering as he hastily pulled the remainder of his team out of the room with him.

"I swear, that Wintergale boy is so strange sometimes," Glynda sighed as Leon shut the door behind them, the large young man far too big for Alastair to drag.

"Let him be, Glynda. They're all very mature when it counts," Ozpin laughed as he turned his gaze back to his computer monitor. "In fact…."

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><p><strong>January 1st, 10:45p.m., 451 AG<strong>

A Bullhead airship emblazoned with the symbol of Beacon Academy on the nose of the craft cut through the night air as it sailed over the City of Vale. Though Beacon typically used larger airships for its transport, it did have several Bullheads on hand in the hangars for special occasions. These were modified to be transports instead of cargo ships, the large cargo-bay instead converted into an equipment room lined with lockers.

"Alright, I feel much better now," Alastair grinned as he tossed the crumpled wrapper of a sandwich into a trashbin, along with four others. Wiping the corner of his mouth with his wrist, he stood and checked his sword. The black sheath housing it looked rather technical for a scabbard, made of a dark polymer with gray metal banding at the far tip and the mouth. Four dull luminescent blue lines stretched across the metal piece at the mouth, stopping halfway across. With a tender smile, Alastair slowly drew his sword and held it up to the light to inspect it.

It was a rather ornate, modern looking katana. Its pommel was square and gray, the front part of which extended forward into a dull edge on the lower side of the hilt. The hilt itself was black, three silver rings wrapping around it and spaced evenly apart along its length. The crossguard was a three dimensional spike, beginning as the hilt gave way to four arches, three of which meeting a semi-rectangular block of metal, the fourth extending along the block of metal to create the spike that then gave way to mirroring slopes leading back towards the rest of the sword and flowing out to the blade. The blade was straight-backed, contrary to traditional katana, with a fuller(A/N, what most know as a "blood groove") running the length of the blade save for the last three inches. The first four inches of the blade were dull, allowing safety so one could not cut themselves when quickly sheathing or unsheathing the weapon. All in all the sword was almost four feet in length, with razor-sharp blade being a majority of the weapon at three feet.

"Hello, Tempest's Edge, I've missed you," he whispered to the weapon before sheathing it again.

"Alastair, stop making goo-goo eyes at your sword and get over here," Kazue chastised from where she stood with the others, the waving of her arm flashing the black leather of the sheaths housing her ulak knives and the dark purple hilts of the weapons themselves. Strapped across her back was an Ashworth Arms PSG1, the large rifle looking disproportionate to her lithe frame.

"Sorry," the gray swordsman quickly apologized, moving over to where the rest stood around Leon's Scroll. It gave off a holographic projection of the building's blue-print, letting them make plans ahead of time on how to enter and best take the hostages back. As an afterthought, each member of the team had synced their own Scrolls with Leon's, allowing them to review the blueprints at any time if need be.

"We're going to split up as soon as we reach the corner where the building is located," Leon stated, using a hand to expand the image to include the rough models of the rest of the buildings on the street aside from Schnee Marketing. It was in the heart of the Commercial District, and thus there were many other buildings both near and across from the Schnee Marketing offices. Alastair let himself be distracted just long enough to marvel at Leon's choice in combat gear. No matter how many times he'd seen it, the sheer sight left him somewhat awestruck.

Over the plain crimson shirt Leon wore in the library was a burnished bronze-colored chestplate made to look like a muscular torso, a small image of a lion's roaring face etched into the metal just below the collar. Enshrouding his right arm was a leaf-scaled manica, also bronze in color with the occasional crimson scale breaking the sea of bronze scales. Straps from the manica vanished beneath the chestplate, while Leon's left forearm was covered in a bronze vambrace. Beneath the chestplate was a crimson armored kilt, covered in small bronze plates of armor, that extended all the way down to his knees. From there his dark brown pants could be seen, until they gave way to bronze greaves that were strapped on over crimson boots. To top it all off, held under Leon's left arm was a bronze helm with a long mane of blood red hair extending from the back of it, the helm's face only broken by an angular Y-shaped gap in the metal that allowed Leon to see and speak.

"First, Kazue will split off and get to the top of the building opposite Schnee Marketing," Leon said, indicating a building across the road from Schnee Marketing that was a single story taller than the Schnee branch building. "There's a fire escape on the side you can use to climb up. From there you should have access to all the outer facing rooms through the windows. If we get into trouble, we'll make our way here," he continued, pointing at the largest room on the top floor, facing the street-side of the road. "It's supposed to be the executive office, so it's our secondary objective anyway. It's also a convenient choke-point as there's only one entrance or exit unless someone wants to jump five stories straight down."

"Got it," Kazue nodded as she yanked the strap across her shoulder to settle the rifle on her back again.

"Abel, Alastair, and I will make our way in through the first floor's back entrance. The police are making a large show of collecting near the front door, so if luck's on our side the back will be unlocked," the leader of Team BLWK continued as he spun the model to indicate the back of the building. "From here we'll make our way up the indoor stairs along the western wall of the building up to the fourth floor. There, we'll make our way to the conference room to confirm if the hostages are there or not. If they are, we will free them and send them back down and out the back. If not, we move on the executive office on the fifth floor. Rules of Engagement are as Ozpin ordered: Incapacitate but do not kill. We clear on this, guys?"

"Crystal," Abel spoke, reaching one of his hands out to zoom in the display on the conference room. "The room only looks big enough for about twenty people if they have the typical long table in the center. You sure that's enough room for you to fight, Leon? You do drag that huge shield along," he pointed out, indicating the massive four foot wide bronze circular shield that leaned against the bench next to Leon. Depicted on the front of the shield were the silhouettes of a man with a sword fighting a Beowolf. Words were written along the edge of the shield, following the curve and wrapping around it. They read "I am the shield that guards my brothers, so they know not fear in battle. I know not fear, for my brothers stand at my side. Against the tides of Hell we stand, resolute and unmoving".

"I'll be fine, Abel. I made a point to learn how to fight indoors with Arx a long time ago," Leon smiled at his friend's concern.

"_Hope you kids are ready, because we're landing,"_ the pilot's voice called from the flight deck. The woman was a non-Hunter member of Beacon's faculty, normally charged with flying and landing the Airships that delivered students to and from the school. However, when you work for the most famous combat Academy in all of Vale, your job is never simple.

"Thanks, Lee, we'll be back before you know it," Alastair called before a low rumble carried through the Bullhead as it landed. The bay door opened and swung down onto the ground, letting Team BLWK hurry down it and out into a small park five streets down from the assaulted building. Even from here, Abel and Kazue's superior Faunus hearing could pick up the sounds of policemen yelling into megaphones at the White Fang members in the building.

"_Alright, you kids send word when I need to come pick you all back up," _Lee's voice called over the comm-link units each member of Team BLWK had in their ears. Without further adieu, Lee took the Bullhead back up into the air and started drifting off back out of sight. The four teammates looked at the fading image of the aircraft for a moment, before snapping out of it.

"Alright, you all heard her," Leon said, setting his shield down long enough to pull on his helmet. He took the shield back in his left hand and checked the draw on the sword at his hip with his right. He nodded as the sword came free easily, then slid it back into place as he faced his team. "She's waiting on us to get this done, so let's not keep her."

"Yes, sir!" Abel, Kazue and Alastair grinned at their leader, all four moving out at a brisk jog through the backstreets and alleys towards the Schnee Marketing building. At three streets down from the building Kazue broke off, sprinting across the street quickly so as not to be seen.

"_I'll keep up on my end. Be at the top of the building in less than ten."_

"Roger that," Leon spoke into his comm-link as he, Abel and Alastair kept on.

In just a few minutes they arrived near the back entrance to the building, stopping short of the opening that served as the back area of the building. Leon nodded at Abel, who immediately took point and moved closer to the wall. The lean wolf Faunus crouched close to the ground, his wolf ears tilting forward as he tried to listen for anything.

"Sounds clear, going to take a peek," he whispered back, before backing up and crouching behind a large trash can that hugged one wall of the alley. He closed his eyes, slowing his breathing as he focused within himself. A faint white light began to overtake Abel's whole body as he brought forth his Aura. The light intensified and then steadily died down to a mere flicker, before a shade of Abel rose up from Abel's still crouched form. The copy looked exactly like its owner, all the way down to having a shadow, save for the fact his footsteps made no sound whatsoever as he stepped.

The ghostly copy made its way around the corner, still crouched low to the ground. It may have been a ghost, but it was not invisible. As the ghostly copy made its way closer to the door it saw a single White Fang soldier with an assault rifle standing next to the rear exit. The man's face was hidden behind the gray masks and black hoods the lesser members of the White Fang all wore, though it was obviously a male Faunus. Despite the fact that he was with the infamous terrorist group, he didn't seem to be well trained as he only kept his gaze settled in the opening of the back entrance and didn't bother to check the alleys.

The phantasmal Abel returned back to its owner and teammates, literally walking into Abel's still-crouched form and disappearing. Abel's golden eyes snapped open as he stood, his ears idly twitching for a moment as he got used to the sensations of being fully physical again. "One guard, armed with an assault weapon. I can take care of him no problem," the Wolf grinned at his teammates, pulling up his hood over his snow white hair and zipping up his coat. The hood combined with the tall collar did well to hide his face, and if one didn't know to look for him he would be very difficult to spot.

"It's still creepy when you do that," Alastair commented, getting a golden wink from Abel as the wolf Faunus drew his weapons. They were a pair of pistols, jet black with extended slides and barrels, unique in that they had several divots not normally on the slides of guns along with a block of white metal extending forward from the trigger guard to the end of the barrel. With a flick of his thumbs, Abel activated the shape-shifting feature of the weapons, the blocks of white metal unfurling and spreading out over the barrel and and grip of the gun slid backwards. The hammer disappeared into the slide as the white metal flattened out, forming a blade along what had previously been the underside of the pistols' barrels. It was a transformation Abel found quite useful, the twin pistols shifting to become the twin daggers they were now.

"Be back in a second," Abel said as he darted around the corner to face his foe.

The wolf Faunus stuck to the shadows, doing everything in his power to keep behind something or in the darkest parts of the lot behind the building as he made his way along the edge of the empty space. A trashcan, one of the newer plastic ones that were unnecessarily bulky was the last obstacle between him and the White Fang member, and one Abel was glad for.

He waited until the White Fang member made the mistake of looking down at his rifle, then rushed at the opportunity. Abel lunged from behind the trashcan, rounding it in an instant and leaping into the air. The guard didn't even have time to scream as Abel landed on him, left hand covering the man's mouth as the right held a knife to his throat.

"Shhh, shhh, little lamb. Sleep now while the wolves hunt," Abel whispered in the Faunus's ear, slamming the pommel of his right-hand dagger into the man's left temple with a hard, quick motion. The man went limp beneath him, and Abel grinned from behind the tall collar of his coat. He kicked the man's rifle away from his body and flipped him over, untying the man's belt and wrapping it around the man's wrists several times over before utilizing the belt's clasp to lock it all together. Abel then hoisted the body up and deposited it in the trashcan he had used for cover, wincing at the smell that came from the plastic container when opened.

"Sorry, friend, but you're going to need a bath when this is over. I'm sure the jails will be happy to oblige," he chuckled as he shut the lid and walked back to the entrance to the back lot.

"All clear," he reported to Leon, most of his face still hidden by the combination of collar and hood.

"Good to hear, now let's go," Leon nodded, the three of them moving into the back entrance as a single unit.

Abel moved into the back corridor first, moving first to the far end of the hallway as Leon and Alastair made their way along behind him. The wolf Faunus shifted his daggers back into their pistol forms, stepping out into the adjacent hallway with a handgun aimed in either direction. The path to the left extended another twenty feet to turn to the right. The path on the right led to a door, that according to the rough blueprint they received, led out to the office block at the back of the first floor.

"Hall is clear," Abel called back, taking a step towards the left as Alastair moved up to cover the right path.

"What's the plan, big guy?" Alastair asked while he placed his right hand upon the hilt of his sword.

"According to the blue-prints, that hallway down the left leads to the emergency stairs," the bronze and crimson clad young man responded as he checked his Scroll, his sword still unsheathed. "We'll use that to get to the fourth floor, then from there take the conference room."

"Sounds like a plan," the gray swordsman and black gunman replied in unison. The trio began to move immediately. Leon took point this time, holding his torso at an angle so his massive shield, Arx, partially covered his body as he walked. Behind trailed Alastair, hand still on the hilt of his weapon as he followed. Abel brought up the rear, both guns trained behind them in the event that someone should attack. They reached the end of the hallway and made the right turn, seeing a door with a crude sign depicting a stick-figure man running down stairs. Locked around the door's turn-handle and the wall next to the door was a large metal frame, obviously concealing the emergency alarm system.

"Alastair, can you take care of the alarm?" Leon asked quietly as he stepped to the left as much as he could.

"Shouldn't be a problem," came his teammate's reply, Alastair moving towards the door. Alastair raised his left hand and put it against the metal panels. An outline of bright blue, the same pale electric blue as Alastair's eyes, appeared around the young warrior's body. His eyes glowed with a bright intensity as small sparks arced off his hand and into the metal plate. A series of quiet, barely audible clicks came from inside the metal plate, before the lock in the door loudly came undone. The door swung open of its own accord, revealing the criss-crossing staircases that led up through the emergency shaft of the building.

"Good deal," Leon nodded with a small smile of satisfaction on his face, the flowing mane of his helmet bobbing slightly at the movement. His right hand came up to a spot near his throat, flipping a tiny switch that opened his comm-line freely.

"Kazue, this is Leon. I'm leaving my comm-line open," he muttered into the microphone as Abel and Alastair both opened the channels on their comm-links as well. Static flashed over the line as all the links settled, a by-product of the comm-line adapting to the increased burden of more communicators. Once the static gave way, they were free to talk as if they were all standing just mere feet from each other.

"_Copy that, big guy. Leaving my channel open, too," _Kazue's reply came loud and clear across all of their ear-pieces.

"We're going to be using the emergency staircase to get to the fourth floor. Do me a favor and sweep the conference room through the windows. I'd like to know what we are up against before we go barging in," Leon ordered, following Abel and Alastair into the emergency staircase and shutting the door behind him.

"_Sure thing, big guy," _Kazue's voice answered. Taking that as their cue, Leon, Abel and Alastair began hurrying up the stairs. While it was somewhat awkward for Leon, given the sheer size of his shield, they managed without too much difficulty. It seemed that the White Fang had either not known of or forgotten about the emergency staircase, as there were no soldiers posted inside. This didn't stop Abel from taking point again at Leon's behest, eagerly awaiting Kazue's report as they reached the fourth floor's stair platform.

* * *

><p>"Sure thing, big guy," Kazue murmured into her microphone.<p>

She adjusted the stock of the rifle against her right shoulder as she lay flat along the roof of the building across the street, barely making even a silhouette against the skyline. Taking a breath to steady herself and bring the scope of the rifle with her eye. She let the breath out slowly and began her scan.

Zooming in on the window where the conference room was supposed to be, the young Rabbit Faunus frowned from behind her scope. Aside from the long oaken table that took up the center of the conference room and the many chairs that lined it, there were a total of fourteen moving bodies inside. A quick flick of her wrist to turn the dial on the side of her scope and zoom further showed Kazue that there were a total of six hostages kneeling on the ground along the table with their wrists and ankles bound. The remaining eight were standard White Fang foot soldiers, six of them armed with their typical thin-bladed falchions while the remaining two standing near the window were armed with assault rifles.

"Wait….six….," the realization slowly dawned on the purple-clad sniper. "Crap!"

A quick curse under breath, she dropped her shoulder down to the ground, panning the scope up. Inside the executive office on the top floor of the building were two more people. Closing in her view, Kazue saw that one was the final hostage, the executive himself judging by the damaged fancy suit he wore, and the other a White Fang member. This one was dressed differently than the others, wearing a long black coat that hid most of his body except for his head. Upon his face the White Fang member wore a stylized half-mask made to resemble that of a Beowolf, his teal blue hair showing as she zoomed in on his face, showing the dog ears that adorned the top of his head.

"Shit!"

* * *

><p>"<em>Leon, we got a problem!" <em>Kazue's voice rang out over the comm-line, her normally even-toned voice now tainted with a touch of panic.

"What's going on?" Leon spoke into his comm-link, sharing worried looks with Abel and Alastair as they all stood poised at the door to the fourth floor. Alastair raised an eyebrow at Leon, as if to ask 'What?'.

"_The hostages are split between floors four and five. You have eight soldiers armed with swords and a couple auto-rifles in the conference room, then you have another guy one floor up holding what looks like the executive of the building. White Fang up top looks like he's the boss. And he's not treating the executive nicely."_

"Copy that," Leon caught himself nodding despite the fact Kazue could not possibly see him, his gaze moving over to Abel. "Abel, you take the top floor, you like one-on-one fights better anyways. Alastair, you're with me," the orders were received with curt nods, Abel's swift feet carrying him up the next staircase to the fifth floor almost soundlessly.

"Kazue, get ready to take out the two gunmen on my mark," he added as he and Alastair opened the door to the fourth floor and moved in.

"_Copy. Ready on your mark. Ah, damn it. The wind's flaring up!"_

"I'm sure you'll manage," Alastair quipped, his voice a mere whisper, as they proceeded towards the conference room.

"_Shut it, Wintergale!"_

Alastair tried valiantly to maintain a sense of sound discipline, but the smallest of chuckles escaped and drew a glare from Leon. The towering monolith of a man shook his head slowly, as if to say "You know better". Alastair simply shrugged in response, as they came to the doors of the conference room. The gray swordsman moved to the right side of the grandiose double rosewood doors that led to the conference room, as Leon took his place directly in front of it.

"On three," Leon told Alastair, knowing that Kazue had heard him since the line was still open. The leader of Team BLWK shifted his weight to his back foot and grinned beneath his helmet.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

With a burst of speed and power, Leon's right foot moved from behind him to kicking the locked doors in front of him, _hard. _The shrieks of abused metal and the groan of broken wood tore through the silence they had carefully maintained up to that point, the doors themselves flying open. But, that was all part of the plan.

The eight White Fang soldiers barely had time to turn around to face the door's violent breaching when the floor to ceiling glass windows dominating the northern wall of the room shattered. The gunman on the right fell first as cloth burst away from the back of his hooded head and he fell limp to the ground. The second fell after only a fraction of a second, the report of the first shot only having just registered to him before he got one of his own.

The shock did not last, however, as the six remaining White Fang soldiers readied their swords. Three of them rushed at Leon instantly, as Leon stepped to the left of the doorway and brought up his massive shield. Their three swords scraped harmlessly against the great bronze disc, Leon lunging forward and sending the three of them flailing backwards.

Leon moved forward as soon as the three White Fang soldiers fell back, his right hand reaching out and grasping the arm of one of the luxury chairs positioned along the length of the conference table. With a mighty roar he hurled the lavish chair through the air at three poor souls as they regained their feet. The chair slammed into the face of one of the three, shattering on impact and knocking the man out instantly.

Alastair had moved in during the commotion, on the first of his three opponents before he could blink. The soldier raised his sword high in his right hand, too shocked by the sudden attack to notice the grin across Alastair's face. Before the White Fang could bring down the razor sharp blade of his weapon, Alastair drew his sword from the sheath, slashing across the man's chest.

Sparks of electricity erupted along the torso and mask of the soldier, his body convulsing violently before falling to the ground. Alastair moved past the down soldier, both hands grasping the hilt of his sword and bringing it up diagonally across his body to block the sword of the next White Fang.

"Two down, four to go!" Alastair called out, shoving back against the crossed blades of he and his enemy to disengage his sword.

"Three!" Leon yelled as his armored right arm shot out and caught his second opponent's face. Another growl and Leon hoisted the man bodily off his feet and plunged the man's face hard into the ground. A moan of pain escaped as the man lost consciousness, getting a grin from Leon as well.

* * *

><p>"<em>Three!"<em>

Abel shook his head in amusement at Leon's exclamation, their comm-lines still open. The white haired Wolf Faunus tugged on the lip of his hood, making sure it was pulled as far forward as he could to hide the glaring paleness of his hair. He shifted his left hand pistol back into a dagger as he moved along the halls of the fifth floor towards the executive office, readying for what was to come. The sounds of battle continued to filter through the small speaker in his left human ear, getting a small smile out of Abel.

"You can tell they're partners," he murmured quietly, getting a chuckle from across the comm-line.

"_You sure can. I've got your back too, partner," _Kazue's voice came over the line. "_But you might want to hurry. Looks like the Big Boss is getting a little rough with his top hostage."_

"Got it," Abel affirmed as he picked up the pace. Within moments he crossed the distance of the fifth floor and got to the executive office doors. He cautiously turned the handle of the door, making as much effort as he could to maintain silence as he opened it. He lead with the pistol in his left hand, making sure he had a weapon between himself and whatever awaited him.

As he entered the room he saw the leader of this particular contingent of the White Fang looming over the beaten form of the executive, a slightly portly man in a suit that had definitely seen better days. The black cloaked White Fang member had his fist poised over the unconscious form of the executive, who was sprawled against the side of his luxurious desk. Abel's appearance seemed to have gone unnoticed, as the man didn't even spare a glance in Abel's direction.

"Freeze!" Abel bellowed, rising to his full height with his pistol aimed directly at the White Fang member's head. The man turned slowly towards Abel, a broad grin stretched across his face. The teal hair above his head caught the moonlight, highlighting the dog ears atop his head and making a line of thought drift through Abel's mind before he could stop it.

'_A wolf versus a dog, huh? The universe definitely has a sense of humor.'_

"And what are you going to do if I don't?" the teal-haired man asked with a malicious grin. His right hand reached into the back of his coat and drew out a rectangular hunk of metal that extended into a short sword with the push of a button. Along the length of the center of the blade was a metal tube lined with small holes in the tube itself, both the blade and tube connecting to a hilt, which had a knuckle bow extending down from the nearly non-existent crossguard to cover the front of the man's hand.

"Then I'll have to make you," Abel spoke with resolution, taking a step forward into the room and twirling the dagger into his right hand into a reverse-handed grip.

"That's good. That's what I like to hear," the teal-haired dog faunus laughed as he moved across the room towards Abel, holding his strange sword out to his right side and giving the hilt a squeeze. A teal Aura spread out across the man's entire body, and Abel could see the dark blue eyes behind the Beowolf-style mask glimmer with menacing intent. Blue flames puffed from the holes in the metal tube along the short sword, as the man channeled his Aura into the weapon.

"So your Semblance is fire?" Abel surmised as he squared up across from the teal-haired man, a mere ten feet between the two of them.

"Ooh, a smart one,"the grin on the man's face grew broader. "Well I might as well give you the courtesy of a name before I kill you. I'm Malcolm Turquoi, and you're a dead man."

'_Someone has a bit too much passion for flair,' _Abel's errant thought was interrupted as the man named Malcolm Turquoi covered the distance between them in an instant and slashed upwards, vying to cut Abel across the stomach.

With a backwards hop, the black clad sneak of Team BLWK barely dodged the dangerous attack. He fired off a shot from the pistol in his left hand in retaliation, Turquoi dodging to the left so the bullet passed harmlessly over his shoulder. Said bullet whizzed through the air, burying itself in the ceiling above them. Not even paying any mind to the threat of the handgun, Turquoi closed in again.

His blade shrieked through the air as the blue flames scorched the oxygen out of the air from around the sword, the brightness of the flames almost forcing Abel to close his eyes. Resisting the urge to shield his vision from the glaring flames, Abel swayed backwards on his feet, avoiding the swipe at his face. He slid back on his feet only to find his back against the wall, earning another chuckle from Turquoi.

"Nowhere to run now," Turquoi grinned with a sadistic chuckle lacing his voice.

"No need to run. You're right where we want you to be," Abel grinned back, his hood falling back to reveal his snow white hair and wolf ears.

"You're a Faunus!" Turquoi's eyes widened when he realized he had been fighting on of his own. A split second later, Abel's words registered to him, and he spun to look at the door that Abel had come through. It was the wrong choice however, as it left him in perfect alignment for Kazue across the road. A loud bang rang out through the night, the sniper's bullet cutting through the air and the night. It shattered the scenery window along the office wall and found its home impacting against the back of Turquoi's head. With his Aura activated, it was a non-fatal shot, but still more than enough to knock a man out.

"And you're a downed criminal," Abel sighed as he moved passed Turquoi's prone form and checked on the beaten executive. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he found the man alive, a pulse beating beneath the flesh of his throat. It may not have been the strongest pulse, and the man was certainly not in the best condition of his life, but at least he was alive.

"_You'd be toast without me, you know that?" _Kazue chastised as she watched from her scope.

"Be that as it may, we won," Abel chuckled as he saw a chair go flying out of the window one floor below.

"_This is Leon. Hostages on the fourth floor secured. What is your status, Abel?" _

"I've confirmed the safety of branch executive. Kazue and I also managed to subdue the leader of the attacking White Fang," Abel reported as he leaned against the executive's desk.

"_Meaning I saved his sorry butt!" _Kazue added in as Abel saw her stand from her position atop the other roof.

"_Don't worry, Abel. I owe Leon one too. Damn guy caught me with a gut punch," _Alastair's voice laughed sheepishly.

* * *

><p>An hour of speaking to the police and a Bullhead ride back to Beacon Academy, and Team BLWK stood again in the office of Headmaster Ozpin. The four were a little worse for wear, but all in all were fine as they stood under the watchful gaze of Glynda Goodwitch and their eccentric Headmaster. Ozpin smiled at the four of them as he read over the report sent from the police, steam rising from his ever-present coffee mug. With a hum of contemplation he closed his scroll and set his eyes upon his young charges.<p>

"You have done very well," he complimented them. "Not only did you manage to save the hostages, but you also apprehended a captain of the White Fang and several of his henchmen. And all without causing more than minimal collateral damage."

"Thank you, sir," Leon responded as soon as Ozpin finished speaking, the rest of his team nodding their appreciation as well.

"Oh, don't thank me quite yet," Ozpin's smile gained a touch of mischief as his words brought Team BWLK short. "You see, your actions tonight have helped me come to an important decision."

"What would that be, Headmaster?" Abel asked calmly, face once against unobscured as his coat hung open with the hood down.

"For the past few months, I have had a Team in private training," Ozpin began, his voice even as he divulged one of his great secrets. "They are each special cases that required extreme care to oversee, and thus I kept them hidden. But the time has come for them to come into the light and be formally recognized as students of this academy. At the same time, recent events have led to my worrying for the safety of my students, particularly the first years. As such I came to a conclusion."

"Starting tomorrow, two first-year Teams will be assigned to a single second-year Team. Your responsibility in the field and in the training has helped me cement my choice on who should chaperone my three biggest problem teams," Ozpin smiled as Abel's wolf ears perked forward and Kazue's good rabbit ear stood straight.

"Three, sir?" Kazue asked with a shaky voice, her shoulders sagging at the idea of having to deal with twelve first-years.

"Two teams you probably already know of, Team RWBY and Team JNPR," Glynda spoke up from her stoic place at Ozpin's side.

"Weren't they the two Teams that fought the Nevermore and the Deathstalker during the Initiation?" Alastair asked, remembering watching the footage of a little girl in black and red hauling a Nevermore up a cliff and lopping its head off.

"The very ones," Ozpin nodded, glad that his students were keeping up. "Team RWBY has seemed to display a remarkable knack for finding trouble, and as their friends I can trust Team JNPR to not be far behind. Out of all the first year students, they certainly need the most supervision, along with my little secret team. I'll let you know now, they're team designation is REPR. I will be revealing the chaperone policy and Team REPR's existence at an assembly at seven in the morning."

"Am I to understand that we'll be taking charge as their chaperones following that assembly?" Leon asked, his hand finding its way to his chin as he thought over the deluge of information Ozpin just revealed to them.

"Correct. Now, you all should be off to bed," Ozpin said as he lifted his mug towards them before taking a sip. "You've got a big day ahead of you."

"Yes, sir," Leon bowed his head slightly, before he and the rest of Team BLWK made their way out of Ozpin's office.

Once BLWK had left, Glynda's gaze turned towards Ozpin with a slightly disapproving frown on her face, "Are you certain they were the best choice, Professor Ozpin? They didn't seem too pleased with the decision."

Hazel eyes stared into the depths of his coffee mug as Ozpin's smile faded from his face, "In all my years, it has been my experience that the best people for handling a great responsibility, are those that do not want that responsibility. Besides, if I gave them their Team name because they seemed like a sturdy bunch."

"Yes, sir, Professor Ozpin," Glynda nodded, exiting the office to go to bed herself.

Silence fell over the office as Glynda left and Ozpin was left with only his own thoughts. The dull glow of the great emerald light of Beacon Academy still filtered through the windows, casting its comforting glow over Ozpin and his desk. He sipped from his coffee and looked to the screen of his computer, the smallest hint of a grin playing across his face. On the right side of the screen that had previously been four blank spaces there were now the four portraits of Abel Blackthorn, Leonidas Rosso, Alastair Wintergale, and Kazue Murasaki. Beneath their four portraits was the simple designation "Team Bulwark".

* * *

><p><strong>And there you have it boys and girls! The NEW AND IMPROVED version of Chapter 1. I shall be doing my best from this point on to provide the best content I can for this project and any others I might undertake. I'm not going to make any promises about when the next new chapter will come out, but know that it will be soon.<strong>

**This was the big thing that has been keeping me from putting out more new chapters on this. But now that I've got this out of the way, I should be able to soldier on.**

**And one last thing...**

**RWBY VOLUME TWO ON THE TWENTY-FOURTH! OH MY FUCKING GOD YEAH! INSPIRATION WILL POUR OVER ME LIKE A LOVING RAINSTORM AND AWASH ME IN THE WONDEROUS GLOW OF AUTHORSHIP!**

**Ahem.**

**Thank you, and see you guys next time.**


	2. Chapter 2: So It begins!

**Alright. After seeing that I got a note worthy drop in views with the second chapter, along with going back and re-reading it. I came to the conclusion that my original second chapter of this project did one thing and one thing only: SUCKED! Looking back I realized I didn't put anywhere near my maximum effort with this part of the story, and I decided to change that. Henceforth, I have re-written Chapter 2, making it all around better than before. It still keeps many of the same things from before, though now they are much improved. If you liked the original version better, I apologize, but I could not just sit by while I knowingly gave less than my best with this. **

**That all being said, please, enjoy the new and improved Chapter 2 of A Wall Against The Dark!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>August 7th, 446 A.G.<strong>_

A young Leonidas Rosso woke to the quiet drone of his alarm clock, the steady ringing not quite loud enough to be obnoxious but jarring enough to wake him. The boy unleashed a monstrous yawn and stretched in bed, eyes still shut. Brown eyes the color of milk chocolate blinked several times before a smile spread across the young boy's face.

"It's finally the day!" he grinned as he leapt from the blankets of his bed and onto the floor. His room was not very big, only a ten feet by ten feet square, but it was his. An ornate painting of a man in glimmering bronze armor holding a sword and shield and standing before a large Ursa Major decorated the eastern wall of the room, a short and wide dresser standing beneath it. Leonidas's bed was against the western wall, while a desk piled high with writing utensils and books on everything from arithmetics to Grimm-biology stood against the northern wall of the room. The south wall was occupied by a rack holding several wooden training swords on the eastern end, while his bedroom door took up the south-west corner of the south wall. All four of said walls were colored the same dark burgundy red, Leonidas's favorite color.

"Gotta hurry and find Dad," the happy youth laughed as he quickly walked over to his dresser, tossing aside the dark red shorts he had worn to sleep in. Young Leonidas's body was long and lanky, the boy already standing at five feet and three inches, his shoulders and the rest of him still catching up to the sudden jump in height he received when he hit puberty. Thin, wiry muscle contrasted to his lanky frame, as the teen threw on a crimson t-shirt and a pair of brown pants. He tugged on socks and shoes fast as he could, absently running his left hand through his short black hair to push away any leftover messiness in his hair from sleeping. "Today's the day I get to make my shield!" he told himself, nearly giddy with excitement.

Leonidas left his room at a practical run, slamming the wooden door behind him as he sped down the hallway from the northern end of his house towards the living room. His home was modest and practical, not huge but plenty big enough to house the growing teen and his parents. Leonidas vaulted over the arm-rest of the chair near the northern entrance to the living room and he stopped to look at the mantle above the fireplace. Mounted there above the stonework arch was a three and a half foot long sword, blade polished to a pale gleam. The brass-colored half-moon crossguard that separated the hilt from the blade gleamed in the morning light coming through the windows and the lion etched into the round pommel seemed to roar at Leonidas even as his eyes settled upon it.

"Keep staring like that and you might rust the old thing, Leonidas," a deep voice spoke up from behind Leonidas.

"Good morning, Dad!" Leonidas spun on his heels to see his father standing over him with a kind smile. Leonidas's father, Alcaeus, was a large man standing at six feet and four inches tall, with broad shoulders and a thick black beard trimmed close to his jaw. His features were strong, his glimmering hazel eyes only adding to this. His long black hair was pulled back in a lazy ponytail, the streaks of gray at his temples and the slight lines appearing more and more each year across his face the only indication that he was a man getting on in years. Alcaeus wore clothes similar to that of his son, with a crimson tunic with brown trimmings, tan pants clothed his legs and his feet were bound by strong leather sandals that wrapped partially up his calf.

"Good morning, kiddo," Alcaeus greeted his one and only son, bending down slightly to ruffle the boy's hair.

"Dad…. I told you I hate when you do that," the young teen whined as he tried to fix his hand back into place, eyes darting from Alcaeus to the sword above the mantle and back to his father.

"You'll never be too old for me to tease," Alcaeus smiled down, bringing his hand up to where Leonidas's head stopped at his sternum. "Though I may not have a choice when you're older. Seems you're liable to grow bigger than _me_!"

The pair shared a laugh as the sound of the kitchen door opening called their attention. A beautiful woman, long dark hair curling elegantly down the left side of her front as she walked with grace in the blue jeans and red blouse that complimented her, walked into the room. She placed her hand on her hip and gave Alcaeus a sly smile.

"I've told you, honey, he's going to be a big, strong man, just like his dad," she chided as she walked over and placed a chaste kiss on her husband's lips, standing on her toes to do so.

"Minerva, don't embarrass the boy," Alcaeus smiled to his wife, both turning to Leonidas and smiling at him.

"Let's get breakfast, then we'll-" Minerva's words were cut off as an explosion sounded all throughout the village. Alcaeus shared a look with his wife and moved away from the beautiful woman, going to the mantle and taking down his sword.

"Take Leonidas down to the basement, I'll see what the commotion is," Alcaeus told his wife, moving towards their bedroom at the western side of the house. He emerged moments later with a large bronze-colored shield, at just over three feet across. A man standing with a sword held at the ready was stamped as a silhouette on the front of the shield, as the head of the house moved through the house with urgency.

"Mom? What's going on?" Leonidas asked as he tried to move to the window to see. Gentle yet strong arms intercepted him, pulling him to the small hallway along the wall of the living room. At the end of the hallway was a trap door, metal handle settled down into the wood so that one would be able to cover the door without a problem should they choose.

Minerva grasped the handle and yanked up sharply, as the sound of the front door barging open jolted both mother and son. Alcaeus appeared in the hallway, eyes wide and sword stained with fresh dark blood. The way his hazels eyes now looked about the house with fervent control, and the slight wispy gray glow radiating from him, told Minerva all she needed to know.

"Grimm are attacking. They've breached the outer wall," Alcaeus spoke with a forced calm, his hand clenching tighter on the sword. "Get in the basement with Leonidas."

"I'm not letting you battle those monsters alone, especially not with your leg the way it is," Minerva instantly argued, mother and wife inside her both screaming to act. Her eyes landed quickly on Alcaeus's left knee, the one he had injured defending people from the monsters that now threatened their village so long ago..

"I don't have time to argue about this!" Alcaeus yelled at her, rage suffusing his worry and settling the fear that had been crawling into Leonidas's heart into full panic.

"Dad, you come down with us!" Leonidas asked, pulling against his mother's arms as he tried to move to his father.

"No, son, I have a duty to the people of this village. I swore to protect people from the Grimm, swore my life as a Hunter, and just because I'm retired doesn't mean I can stand by when they come to my home," Alcaeus's voice was strong and even, despite the panic Minerva could clearly see budding in his hazel orbs.

"I'm helping you, no buts," Minerva spoke quickly, pushing Leon to the ladder that led down into the basement. "Sweetie, I need you to be brave and stay down there while your father and I help repel the attack," she told her son, smiling at him as she kissed his forehead. Leonidas nodded quickly and did as his mother told, knowing from her tone that there was no room for argument and that his parents knew what was best.

"Thank you, honey," his mother smiled at him as he began to descend the latter. The basement lit up automatically when the door was lifted, so you couldn't fall or hurt yourself inside. Leon touched the ground almost eight feet below, and walked over to the wall and flipped the switch that would keep the light on should the trap door shut.

"We'll be back in no time," Minerva called down confidently before she shut the door above him.

Leon spent his time sitting in the corner of the basement, legs curled up to his lanky frame as he wrapped his arms around his knees. Time blurred for him as he stared into the wall, worrying for his parents.

He was pulled from his stupor by the sound of a sudden crash above him, quickly followed by several more. The sounds of something hitting hard metal barely reached his ears, before a roar tore through the already prevalent sounds. A short scream followed, and then silence.

"_Minerva!_" Alcaeus's voice shattered Leonidas as he realized the short scream had been his mother.

The sounds of battle above continued as Leonidas launched himself to his feet and rushed towards the ladder. Going hand-over-hand as fast as he could, Leon hit the top of the ladder in seconds. He pushed up against the door, but the wood stood stout.

"C'mon, open!" Leonidas cursed quietly under his breath. He pushed down on the ladder with one hand while pushing up on the door with the other, slowly pushing the door open. Leonidas was barely able to get it halfway open, but scrambled to crawl through the gap.

His breathing heavy, he nearly screamed as he turned to see the dead torso and head of a Beowolf had been on top of the door, weighing it down. Panic searing through his veins like cold fire, Leonidas was on his feet and moving into his living room before he even knew what happened. There he would see the images that would haunt him for the rest of his days:

His parents were dead. Slaughtered by the Grimm as they had tried to make it back to the home, to their son. Blood, crimson as the shirt on Leonidas's own chest, pooled on the formerly polished wooden floor. At the threshold to the hallway lay his mother. Deep gashes carved through the muscles of her back, broken bone showing through the horrid wounds as blood seeped up and out over her body. Her eyes looked down the hallway, flat and lifeless, as her arm still reached out towards Leonidas from the ground.

Beyond his mother's corpse was his father's sword, cast aside in some struggle. Leonidas saw why as the monster in the room came into focus. It was an Alpha Beowolf, so large it seemed giant in their modest home. The creature of Grimm was positioned over the body of Alcaeus, several grievous wounds torn through his chest. His throat was missing and his eyes were wide, the life having been suddenly ripped from him as he had tried to help his wife.

They say your mind notices the strangest things when you go into shock. It was a heavily debated topic, but for Leonidas at least it was true. Everything came into sudden focus as his world fell apart. The way the light bounced off the growing pools of blood on the ground, the rippling of the Alpha Beowolf's muscles beneath its fur as it took a large bite from Alcaeus's torso, the gleam of dark Grimm blood on the once pristine blade of Secemo -his family's sword that had been passed down from father to son for generations- as it lay between the bodies of his parents.

Joy faded away. Denial rose in his heart and was crushed by Realization. Realization was drowned in a deluge of Grief. And finally Grief was burned to ashes by the flames of Hate. All in a fraction of a second.

"_**RAAAAAAAAAGH!**_" Leonidas screamed, pouring his heart into the sound, as his soul burned with a fury he had never known. Violent red Aura surged around him, a storm of crimson light that set the blood on the floor flickering as if aflame. The teen, now an orphan, moved on instinct as the Alpha Beowolf raised its head at him.

Leonidas found himself holding his father's sword in both hands without knowing when he had picked it up. He found himself dodging the quick claw swipe from the monster's left arm and burying the blade of Secemo in its chest. The battle cry of pure hatred and anguish tore out of his chest again, as he felt droplets of blood form in his throat as he ripped the soft tissues with the force of his agony.

For years he would not remember what happened after that. Blurred images of dead people, bodies mangled by and being devoured by Grimm. The pain that surged through his left arm as he held his father's shield, the Arx of Alcaeus Rosso, and Secemo, the blade of the Rosso line. The sounds of Grimm roaring in bloodlust as they saw him, his own wet screams of defiance as he charged the beasts back.

When Leonidas finally returned to his senses, he found himself sprawled out among dozens of wooden posts haphazardly forced into mounds of freshly overturned dirt. Four days passed between the attack on his village and Leonidas's mind returning, he would find out years later.

The Huntsmen and Huntresses of Vale were horrified when they arrived on the fifth day, to find a village of two hundred people had been reduced to a single young boy, too injured and broken to even move.

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 2nd, 05:28AM A.G.<strong>_

Leonidas awoke with a start in his bed in Team BLWK's dorm. He grimaced as the sunken, pink flesh of the three large scars across his chest, from left shoulder to his right ribs, ached in the early morning. His body was drenched in a cold sweat, and he looked down to find himself gripping the side of the bed frame so hard the wood splintered.

"The nightmare?" Alastair's voice asked calmly from Leon's right. The giant of a man realized with a jolt that the lights of the dorm room were on, and his teammates were awake. Alastair was sitting on his bed to Leon's right, looking at his colossal partner with a mix of concern and hesitation. The katana wielding Huntsman-in-training was clad in a pair of loose gray pants and a black sleeveless shirt, his sleepwear of choice. His blue eyes centered on Leon's own chocolate brown as he gave the hoplite a small, encouraging smile.

Leon swung his head to the left to see Abel and Kazue both sitting up, still under their blankets, looking at him with worry. Abel was closer to Leon, Kazue having taking the far end of the room to herself as the only girl, with a curtain hanging from the ceiling to separate her bed from the others, though this was pulled back now.

"You okay?" Kazue asked, violet eyes wide open as she stared at Leon. Her rabbit ears, damaged as they were, still bent forward in an unconscious gesture to show her concern. Comically enough, Abel's were stock straight, as he examined first Leon, then Leon's bed, then looked Leon in the eye.

"Y-Yeah," Leon spoke slowly, dropping back into his bed with a sigh. Taking a moment to examine his bed himself, he saw he'd ripped the sheets in his sleep and had knocked the small electrical alarm clock off the bookshelf next to his bed.

The team's dorm room was a bit larger than the first-years, a benefit of managing to pass their first year at the prestigious academy, and the four had already highly personalized it. Each of them had taken one fourth of the space available, though Kazue got slightly more due to her insistence on privacy.

Alastair's area was farthest to the left if one stood in the threshold of the door into the room, his bed pressed against the wall and a wide, three-level bookshelf bridging the gap along the far wall from his bed to Leon's. This doubled as Alastair's nightstand near his bed, and several books on swordsmanship, Aura usage, and a few novels were stacked neatly on the shelves nearer to his bed. Leaning against his bed, directly next to his pillow and headrest was his black sheathed katana, Tempest's Edge.

Leon was next, being on the middle left. His own bed was a bit longer and wider, to better accommodate for his size, while his side of the shared bookshelf on the left side of his bed was filled with books on combat strategy, technical manuals, and a thick tomed book that continued an anthology of epics. An alarm clock as positioned on top of the shelf, used as Team BLWK's universal wake-up call. The right side in the gap between he and Abel's beds was the main window of the room, which still showed the shattered moon in the night sky. Beneath the window was the fold-up table that the team would use for doing homework together, along with a small mini-fridge that contained their drinks of preference.

Abel's space, being on the middle right, was very neat and organized. The aforementioned window and folding table took up the space between his and Leon's beds, so Abel kept a small dresser on the opposite of his bed placed just before Kazue's curtain. It stood at just over three feet tall with three drawers, an incense holder and a Dust-o brand lighter sitting atop the dresser along with a book on philosophy. Inside the drawers he kept incense, some more of his books, and a small bag of beef jerky for when his wolfish tendencies got to him.

Lastly was Kazue at the far right of the room, a curtain separating her area from the rest of the boys' via a track pinned to the ceiling. On her side of the curtain she had a nightstand on the left side of her bed and a bookshelf on the right, a partially disassembled handgun and several small tools laying on the bookshelf atop an old Guns & Blades magazine. On the nightstand was a small make-up kit and a nail file, the only apparent objects of her femininity. The bookshelf was loaded down with different technical manuals and gun magazines, along with a blade care kit stuffed on the bottom shelf.

At the foot of each bed was a compartmentalized trunk, where each team member kept their various school supplies and papers. Both the far right and far left walls had closets and small bathroom suites, the one on the left shared between Leon and Alastair while the one on the right was split between Kazue and Abel, much to the wolf's chagrin. Next to the door leading out into the dormitory hallway was a coat rack, from which Alastair, Kazue, and Abel's coats and jackets all hung.

"At least I didn't destroy the room like last time," Leon finally sighed as he sat back up and looked at the clock. The digital timepiece read 5:30am, and Leon shook his head as he swung his long, muscular legs off his bed and stood.

"Yeah, that wasn't fun to clean up," Alastair agreed with a wry grin as he too stood and gave Leon a playful punch on the shoulder. "How about we get breakfast?" he offered to his teammates.

"Breakfast sounds awesome," Kazue sighed as she slipped out from under her blankets and reset the sheets. She had worn a pair of purple pajama bottoms and a white shirt with a pair of purple crossed pistols on it, a yawn escaping as she pulled the curtain to get dressed.

"I second that," Abel contributed as he too slipped out of bed, barely disturbing his blankets. The white-haired wolf Faunus had worn only a pair of black pajama pants to sleep, his lean yet muscular torso pale in the late moonlight as he gave a small yawn. Leon suppressed a smile of his own as he noticed the white-haired wolf absently tapping his foot as he waited for Kazue to get dressed.

Alastair wordlessly walked over to his and Leon's own closet, throwing a pair of brown pants and a crimson shirt to Leon so the hoplite could dress as well. The leader of Team BLWK caught his clothes and shot his partner a raised eyebrow, before pulling on the dark red shirt over his muscular, scarred chest.

"Unless you wanna see a bunch of half-naked guys, I'd keep that curtain pulled," Alastair warned as he tossed off his black sleeveless shirt and pulled on a clean white shirt with long sleeves from the closet.

"Normally, I'd like that offer. But considering it's you goofs, I'll pass," came Kazue's snarky reply from behind the curtain, before it pulled back just enough to reveal a black-sleeved arm that threw a navy blue t-shirt and black jeans at the back of Abel's head, the pant-legs wrapping around the white-haired young man's shoulders.

Abel's wolf ears twitched slightly in irritation as he took his clothes and began to dress as well, his Aura flaring for a moment as a shadow copy of himself ran through Kazue's curtain. A surprised yelp came from behind the curtain a moment later, before the curtain flew back and Abel had to step to the side to avoid the partially built handgun that would have impacted with his head.

"Ow…" Alastair muttered calmly as the side of the skeletonized innards of the handgun peeled away from his face and clattered to the floor. "You're lucky we all have our pants," he told Kazue flatly.

Alastair was now fully dressed minus his shoes, his white long sleeved t-shirt contrasting greatly with the grey jeans he wore beneath them. Leon on the other hand was finishing securing his belt while Abel was still shirtless. Needless to say, the deadpan reaction from Alastair combined with their recently dressed states managed to shut Kazue up from spouting off another witticism.

"Now, breakfast?" Abel asked with an amused smirk as he pulled his shoes out from under his bed and pulled them on, swiftly and expertly lacing them in moments.

"Agreed!" came the unanimous cheer from Leon, Kazue and Alastair, the three all pulling their shoes on as well. With a final quick look over themselves and each other, Team BLWK approved themselves to leave. Abel and Kazue grabbed their coats as they left, Alastair hurrying to strap on Tempest's Edge and its sword-belt before he caught his own coat, courtesy of Kazue.

"Can we not throw things at me anymore?" he joked as they filed out of the room.

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 2nd, 06:00AM, 451 A.G.<strong>_

The team had all taken showers before going to bed the night before, allowing them all plenty of time to make it to the cafeteria before the first years started piling in to grab a quick breakfast before the Assembly. Alastair held the door for his teammates, getting nods of thanks from all of them as they entered. Due to it being earlier than six o' clock in the morning, only the severest early risers and the kitchen staff were awake.

"Morning, Bulwark," one of the kitchen crew, a woman in her mid forties with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, smiled at them as they arrived at the line to get their food. Or rather, it would have been a line if not for that fact only five other people were even in the cafeteria at the time. Professor Oobleck was seated at a far table away from the food retrieval area, already on his third cup of coffee as he flipped through a history book. The green-haired speedster gave the team a small smile as he picked himself up from the table, mug in one hand and book in the other. Abel was the only one who caught the gesture as the others were getting their food, and he nodded and gave a short wave back to the Professor before Oobleck vanished out of the room in a blur of movement.

"Boiled eggs, a salad and bread with honey,_ again?_" Kazue asked as she saw exactly what her team leader was filling his plate with.

"And a pint of milk plus my coffee," Leon said with a small smirk as he took his breakfast tray up. "Thank you, Midna," he thanked the blonde member of the kitchen crew.

"You're welcome, Leon," Midna told the large young man, her blue eyes twinkling as she settled on Kazue's tray. "You aren't one to talk, Miss Cereal and Orange Juice."

"It's not Pumpkin Pete's and orange juice is good for you," was Kazue's defense as she walked away, cheeks puffed slightly at having been outdone.

Midna chuckled as she served up a pile of scrambled eggs and bacon to Alastair and Abel, though she tossed a few extra sausage links as well as a large chunk of ham onto Abel's plate. Alastair frowned as he noticed this and raised an eyebrow at Midna.

"Why are you giving him so much?" he asked, noticing that lately Abel had been eating much more.

"Because I'm a Wolf and you're a little lamb," Abel joked, lips cracking into a broad smile that highlighted the more pronounced canine teeth that most dog, wolf, and other such Faunus were known to have.

"He's right. Besides, Alastair, you and I both know you eat big lunches," Midna nodded and teased, placing an extra scoop of eggs onto Alastair's plate with a mocking smile.

"Yeah, yeah, thank you, Midna," Alastair said as the kitchen worker laughed, taking the coffee mug she extended to him.

Once all the members of Team BLWK had their meals, they sat down at a table near the windows, watching the fractured moon sink lower towards the horizon as they ate their breakfasts. Leon ate quietly, neatly slicing up his boiled eggs and mixing them with his salad as he ate it with a fork. Abel ate a bit more quick in his actions as he speared a sausage link and devoured it in seconds before washing it down with a sip of his morning tea. Alastair shared a look with Kazue towards their ravenous partners, both smiling slightly as Alastair scooped up some of his eggs on his fork and Kazue spooned her healthy oats and granola cereal into her mouth.

"So, what do we know about these teams we're supposed to be taking care of?" Alastair broke the silence at just past six in the morning, taking a bite of bacon.

"Well, Team RWBY and Team JNPR are both somewhat famous as of late," Leon spoke up after he finished chewing a bite of his honeyed toast. "They're the two teams that took down the Nevermore and the Deathstalker during their initiation a few months ago. And from what I've heard, JNPR has the famous athlete Pyrrha Nikos on their team."

"Wasn't she the girl on the Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes box?" Kazue inquired, glass of orange tipping back seconds later.

"Yeah, that's the one," Leon nodded, sipping at his coffee with a contented sigh.

"Team RWBY also has the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company among its ranks, along with that young girl who got skipped up by Professor Ozpin himself. What was her name… Ruby? Yes, that's it. Ruby Rose," Abel spoke up as he finally stopped his speed eating to sip at his tea. While the others were only halfway through their breakfasts, he had already devoured most of his with his chunk of ham being all that remained.

"Weiss Schnee?" Alastair asked as he sipped his own coffee, getting a nod from Abel, who was busy cutting his ham into bite-sized pieces. "I met her a couple times when i was a kid. Social events with all the company big-wigs at my family's company and hers. She was nice enough, a little stuck up, but nice."

"So, all in all, we have a bunch of random people that got thrown together?" Kazue paraphrased, raising an eyebrow as her good rabbit ear twitched in curiousity.

"Basically," Leon nodded, getting laughs from the rest of his team. If there was one thing they had learned in their time at Beacon, it's that the rag-tag bunch of misfits usually got the most done. Hell, Leon's idol Talia Emryl was apart of one of the most misfit teams in Beacon's history.

Breakfast for Team BLWK ended not long after that. The four made small talk as they put their trays in the designated area and made their way out of the cafeteria. By this time, students were going to and fro, trying to make it to the cafeteria fast enough to scarf down a small meal before the Assembly. First and Second Years sped past the already-fed Team BLWK, the blonde haired leader of Team GLNT(Gallant) giving them a quick nod as he made his way to the cafeteria, no doubt waking up after the rest of his team

"George still fails to get up early, as per usual," Kazue casually observed as she and rest of BLWK made their way to the amphitheater that also served as a main auditorium when the overhead panels slid out t make a roof.

"Can you blame him? Tanya is not the quietest of sleepers,' Abel quipped as the team left the main school building and began down one of the paved pathways that guided students from building to building along the massive school grounds.

"At least she doesn't _throw guns at teammates_," Alastair jibed, ducking to avoid a slap from Kazue. "Hey, I'm allow to joke!"

"Cut the chatter and let's go, guys," Leon cut through the happy banter, as they rounded a corner and came in side of the amphitheater. "We need to get upstairs before the speech starts."

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 2nd, 06:55AM, 451 A.G.<strong>_

Twenty minutes later and Team Bulwark was positioned in the balconies on the second floor of the amphitheater, overlooking the main floor and stage below. Abel leaned against one of the many stout pillars that ran along the second floor of amphitheater, absently watching the sky slowly lightening with the raising sun through a window. Leon, Alastair and Kazue all casually leaned on the railing, Alastair and Kazue leaning forward with their arms resting on the rail while Leon leaned on it with his hip, as he was too tall to do as they were.

"I think I see two sets of our charges now," Alastair commented as he spotted the distinctive red cloak that was the trademark of one Ruby Rose. The motley crew of Teams RWBY and JNPR following behind the young girl also came into sight, as students began chatting amongst themselves to pass the time. This was cut to a sudden halt as the mechanized panels above the amphitheater moved to darken the room, a stage light above focusing on the raised platform at the back of the room.

There stood Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy and one of the most feared and respected men in all of Remnant. Clasped in his right hand was his almost ever-present coffee mug, as the green-clad Professor leaned slightly on the cane in his left hand. His dark eyes swept over the student body, both on the ground floor and above, before he began speaking.

"Young huntsman and huntresses, in light of recent events-" the Professor paused, eyes peering down into the dark liquid of his coffee for a moment before he continued, "it has come to my attention that certain, individuals have been taking unnecessary liberties here in Vale. We have enjoyed an incredible period of peace in the past years, and I fear that soon, the peace will falter. With that in mind, I have taken this chance to put certain precautions into place here at the Academy, to help protect the student body and the public at large."

Professor Ozpin paused to let the weight of his words settle in, though BLWK knew what was coming as Ozpin had dropped the bombshell on them the previous night. Murmuring and hurried whispers sprung up quickly among both the students and even some of the staff, catching Abel's surprise as he stepped up to the railing as well to see what was coming next.

'I suppose he kept the secret from even some of the staff,' The white-haired wolf Faunus thought to himself as he stood next to Kazue, peering down at the stage below.

"With both pride, and trepidation, I would like to bring four of Beacon's brightest, most elite students to join me on the stage." Abel caught movement in the darkness behind the stage, and noticed the small gesture Ozpin made as he finished his statement. Then he saw the four students in question begin walking up on the stage, one at a time, to form a neat row next to the Headmaster.

The four students looked quite out of place, each all covered in black with a secondary highlight color complimenting them. This was especially true for the shortest of the four, who wore a form fitting black longcoat with a hood. Said coat was strangely cut, with a large almost billowing left sleeve while the right sleeve seemed to be missing entirely, replaced from the shoulder down to the forearm with black bandages and several small belts. The hood itself was pulled up and over the person's head, with obvious time and effort spent in its almost ceremonious design. Most disturbing of all, however, was the person's face, or rather lack there-of. The person wore a mask beneath the hood, a plain, white oval thing that was eerily devoid of any distinct facial features, just a smooth plain with to circular black eye holes to see through, too dark to make out the person's eyes,

Standing on the far right of the group was a tall woman, easily the tallest of the four, as she stood stock straight at military stand-at-rest. She wore a button-up navy blue vest over a black long sleeved dress shirt, topped off with a black tie pulled tight at her throat. She had long black hair that was almost unnaturally straight as it cascaded down over her shoulders and back from beneath a stylish black beret. Contrasting her dressy shirt, vest and hat, she wore baggy black fatigues with large cargo pockets tucked into black combat boots with shining steel caps on the toes.

Left of the masked figure, at the far left side of the grouping, was a proud looking man with styled back crimson hair. He wore an intricate and noble looking black coat trimmed along the edges with red designs. Dark metal buttons gleamed up the middle of the coat beginning near where his navel would be and coming to a stop in the form of a tight-fit collar around his neck. The pant legs of grey pants could be seen peeking out from beneath the long cloak-like coat and going down the length of his legs until they reached the black combat boots that he wore, with visible steel caps along the toes to match the tall woman. Unlike her, however, his boots bore several scuff marks from wear and tear along the caps.

Between the cloaked figure and the tall woman stood another girl, nearly the polar opposite of the apparent noble on the left. This girl gave off an intimidating feeling, eyes ringed by thin, black eye liner making her dark green irises stand out. She was dressed in a gray t-shirt that stopped abruptly at her midriff, showing a lean and toned abdomen, beneath a black leather jacket. The jacket had many crisscrossing leather straps running across the shoulders and back of it, bound and held by several small buckles of bright white metal. Her hair was long and black, though unlike the first woman's, this girl's hair was billowing, flaring out slightly from her head and falling down her shoulders and back in sleight waves. A silver and black belt encircled her waist and held basic black jeans tightly in place, as the pant-legs gave way to black sneakers with white laces. All in all, the woman looked more like a biker than a Huntress.

"Well, aren't they an odd bunch?" Leon thought aloud as he finished looking them over, his right hand absently stroking his chin as he thought.

"This coming from the man who wears a full suit of bronze and crimson armor?" Alastair spoke to his partner with a raised eyebrow. "You can't exactly judge."

"Hush, you two, Ozpin looks like he's gonna talk again," Kazue cut it, shushing them both.

"I would like to introduce Roan Ashworth," the crimson-haired noble nodded his head slightly, "Vladimir Ebon," the cloak figure, now confirmed to be male, shifted as though uncomfortable. "Melania Pearl," the biker-esque woman glared at the audience before her, though nodded at her name. "and Natasha Raven," the blue and black clad woman on the right somehow managed to stand even straighter at the mentioning of her name.

"These four comprise Team REPR, and will personally act as my elite team tasked with keeping Beacon a safe haven. From now on, they will be living on the campus and attending class with the rest of their first-year classmates."

Leon Rosso found himself nodding slightly as he looked them over again, until he felt an elbow none-to-gently nudge his ribs. He turned his gaze to his left to Alastair, who was looking at the crimson-haired young man with a stern expression.

"He's a member of the Ashworth family," Alastair repeated, getting a slow nod from Leon as Kazue and Abel noticed their grey-clad teammate's distress. "He's actually a noble just like Weiss Schnee and myself. The Schnee's mine and refine the Dust, and the Wintergale's lead the robotics industry, but the Ashworth's take the cake with arms development."

"So he's, what, a gun-dealer?" Kazue asked, interest piqued at the concept of meeting the next-in-line to run the company that designed her sniper rifle.

"No, if that's the same Roan Ashworth that I'd heard about before I left for Beacon…." Alastair said, a small smile breaking across his face as he subconsciously gripped the hilt of his katana with his left hand, "then we're in for one hell of a time as their chaperons."

Any further discussion was cut off as all of Team BLWK felt their Scrolls go off in their pockets. Retrieving the device from his coat pocket, Abel's eyes widened as he read the message that his teammates had no doubt also received.

**"The teams you will be chaperoning are receiving their orders now.**

**Meet them in the main training hall in twenty minutes.**

**I expect you in full combat gear.**

**Ozpin."**

Team BLWK shared one wide-eyed look together before they pushed away from the balcony, moving past the other second years who had gathered for the assembly. Twenty minutes was barely enough time to make it to the Second Year Lockerrooms, let alone make it all the way back across campus in full kit to the main training hall.

"I swear, sometimes Ozpin is a real slave driver!" Alastair gasped as they began sprinting down the pathways outside the amphitheather.

"D-Don't make us laugh," Leon said between breaths as he and the rest picked up the pace. Kazue began to easily outpace the others, her Rabbit Faunus heritage making her a superior runner to common humans like Leon and Alastair, and still faster than even other Faunus like Abel.

"Like Ozpin said at the beginning of the year, things are definitely going to be interesting!" Abel said as they rounded a corner, pushing desparately to make it on time.

* * *

><p><strong>And a few thousand words later and there we have it! This one ended up being a doosy in comparison to the original, at a whopping 6,876 words before the authors notes. I hope you all enjoyed my new version of this part of the story. You can expect chapter four in the near future. <strong>

**Thank you all, and see you soon.**

**Vale, my readers!**


	3. Chapter 3: Meetings, Threats and Tests!

**Well, I screwed the pooch trying to replace my old Chapter 2, so here you all go with Chapter 3 yet again! SORRY! Chapter 4 should by up by April 6th at the latest!**

**Alrighty, kiddos. Let's get this ball rollin'. The set up has ended, the legacy of four quartets of badasses unleashing pure unadulterated fucking majesty upon your face has begun. Buckle your seat-belt, chuckles, because you're in for one wild ride. TIME FOR CHAPTER THREE!**

**P.S. Relks the Disturbed would like to apologize. Relks the Disturbed has been watching Epic Meal time, and just finished "The Blind Bandit" of Avatar: The Last Airbender. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY, it is the property of Monty Oum and Roosterteeth. I am merely a catalyst of the imaginative recluse that dwells within the tortured and webbed cage of my mind. (*cough* emo *cough*)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>January 2nd, 07:05AM, 451 A.G.<strong>_

As Team BLWK and the other second-years made their hasty exits from the balconies above the first-years at the assembly, Professor Ozpin took his leave from the stage to allow Glynda Goodwitch to take his place. As was typically the case, Professor Ozpin had delivered the shocking news to the student body that would inevitably change things for the foreseeable future, while Glynda was left to organize the horde of young adults.

"Ahem," the strict blonde coughed into the microphone, silencing the murmuring gossip that had taken to the crowd like a plague. The whispers died as she gave the whole of the crowd her patented stern glare, a small smirk finding its way to the woman's lips as the students calmed down to listen.

"As Professor Ozpin has stated, we have begun to implement extra security measures to insure the safety of all of our students here at Beacon Academy," Glynda began, her left hand absently adjusting her glasses back up the bridge of her nose to their proper resting place, "These include a new chaperon policy. Starting today, all first-year teams will be given a second-year team to serve as their chaperons, two first-year teams to each second-year team. You will receive more detailed instructions in your scrolls, which I encourage you to check now."

A new team and we get to meet the second-years? Young Ruby Rose thought to herself with borderline ecstasy as she retrieved her scroll. Simultaneously, the remaining members of Team RWBY and all of Team JNPR received nearly identical messages onto their scrolls. Ruby, however, was too preoccupied reading her own scroll to notice.

**"Team RWBY,**

**You have been assigned, along with Team JNPR, to be chaperoned by Team BLWK.**

**As a special exception, due to the great feats you two teams accomplished during Initiation, you will also have the privilege of being grouped with our now-infamous Team REPR, treat them well.**

**Make your way to the main training hall, Team REPR and your chaperons will be waiting. Come combat ready.**

**Ozpin."**

Ruby let out an almost ear shattering squeal of glee as she finished reading the message and quickly stuffed her scroll away, turning to her friends with a giant smile on her face, "Can you guys believe it? We get to work with Team REPR! This is so cool!"

Weiss Schnee, ever the high-class heiress, gave her partner a reproachful look, "Now, Ruby, I know you are excited, but I expect you to be on your best behavior when we meet them. Professor Ozpin himself selected them as a team, and they all looked skilled. I won't have you embarrassing me during our first meeting with them."

"Chill out, Princess," came Yang Xiao Long, playfully pushing the heiress's shoulder as the white-themed girl attempted to be imposing on their team leader, off-balancing Weiss almost to the point of falling with her sudden strength. "They're first-years just like us. No matter how good they may be, they're still our age. Things might be different for a Schnee heiress, but for us normal girls meeting other people our age is normally a pretty informal gig," the blonde brawler told her snow-haired teammate, getting an absolutely frosty glare as the fencer righted herself after the push that almost knocked her down.

"Of course you wouldn't understand how important this is, you brute," Weiss scowled at Yang, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she turned her gaze to Blake Belladonna. "Well, what do you think, Blake?"

The book-loving young woman had been quiet thus far, content to listen absently as she thought about the team they had all just seen. They were intimidating, certainly. Especially the black and white accented girl with the wild hair. Blake had seen Beowolves shrink under a less hostile presence.

And then there's that Natasha Raven woman... Something about her seemed so familiar, but what could it be? pondered the golden-eyed ninja, before she noticed a black-sleeved arm waving back and forth in front of her face.

"Helllooo? Remnant to Blake," Ruby called, pitched forward in her boots as she tried to flag Blake's attention. "Calling Blake Belladonna."

Blake gave her head a single shake, refocusing on what her team was saying, "I'm sorry. I was lost in thought."

"It's okay, but Weiss asked you a question," Ruby said, her right arm raising and pointing, whole forearm jabbing twice with her index finger poised in the white-haired heiress's direction.

"I asked you what you thought about that new team," Weiss repeated herself calmly, arms still crossed in front of her chest.

"I think they looked super weird!" burst in Nora Valkyrie, spontaneously appearing next to Weiss. The sudden appearance of the hammer-wielding girl surprised Team RWBY, until they remembered they had been standing directly next to Team JNPR.

"I mean did you see that guy with the cloak?" Nora continued, ignorant of the indignant look Weiss was giving her. "Not the red haired one, the one with the mask. The red-haired one was weird, too, but the guy in the mask definitely had him beat. Why do you think he wears it? Oh! Maybe he's reeeally ugly under there and doesn't want anyone to see. Or maybe he's a Grimm disguised as a person, trying to sneak into our school..."

As Weiss began to open her mouth to retort to Nora's ridiculous claims, she was cut off by the rest of Team JNPR noticing their heavy-hitter had already started talking to Team RWBY. The three remaining members of Team JNPR joined the group conversation, a blessing as Ren was the only one who could pull Nora out of one of her rants.

"Nora."

"Yes, Ren?" the bubbly orange haired girl stopped midsentence, pivoting on her right foot to look away from Team RWBY and to her right where Ren stood along with Jaune and Pyrrha.

"I think Professor Ozpin would have noticed if he was a Grimm," the green-clad dual-gunner pointed out calmly, earning a look of wonder from his childhood friend.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Nora conceded, the others taking their chance to join the conversation.

"Nora's right, though," Jaune stepped forward, all eyes on him as he took the spotlight. Since the Forever Fall incident and the resulting training from Pyrrha, Team JNPR's leader had become much more confident, even if he was still the 'loveable idiot stuck in a tree' as he was before. "They do seem pretty weird, and that Natasha girl was down-right scary."

"Perhaps we should reserve judgement for when we actually meet them?" Pyrrha advised wisely, getting slow nods from everyone, even the self-assured heiress.

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Weiss said, hand on her hip as she spoke. "Let's get going."

The rest of their group nodded and all began walking briskly towards the main training hall. Luckily for them, the first-year locker room was near the hall and they were all able to pick up their weapons on the way to the hall.

The two teams made good time to the locker room, but it was there that they encountered a problem. More specifically, Team JNPR encountered the problem of Jaune forgetting his locker combination. A small sigh could be heard escaping Ruby as the blonde knight announced this. The red-themed scythe-wielder gave him a slight pout as he scratched the back of his head.

"You guys go on ahead, we'll catch up, after I get my stuff," Jaune offered, slightly ashamed that he had forgotten a code he'd been using for almost four months.

Ruby's face broke with a large smile as she heard this, "Okayseeyoutherebye," and she was gone, her Semblance carrying her out of the room faster than the eye could follow.

She arrived at the assigned meeting room not ten seconds later, skidding to a sudden stop outside the door. She took a small breath to calm herself down, then turned the knob and walked in. The sight before her would have been funny, if not for how shattering it was to her presumptions of Team REPR.

Inside, heated words were being thrown back and forth between the four members of the now infamous Team REPR. Roan Ashworth stood with his back turned and his arms crossed as Natasha chewed him out.

"Why can't you just act civilized for _one day_?! That's all I ask, one day so we can make a good impression," the beret-wearing girl pleaded.

"Civilized? How is pretending to be something I'm not civilized? Sounds more like _lying_ to me," Roan bit back, his scowl deepening some in the process.

"Something you're not?.." Natasha asked, pausing for a brief moment before continuing. "You are a noble! That counts for something, if not for the fact that you would rather throw away your birthright!"

"My _birthright_!? You seem to forget that I don't give two shits about my _birthright_. I became a Hunter to get _away_ from my family," Roan positively glowered. The table he was leaning against quivered strangely, before Roan pushed himself off from it. He took a step closer to Natasha, anger radiating from his own red eyes. It was in this brief pause that Ruby noticed the crimson-haired boy had forgone his ornate cloak, the article of clothing draped over a nearby chair nonchalantly. Now that she could see what was under the cloak, his appearance was a stark contrast to the one presented at the assembly.

His crimson locks were no longer neatly slicked back, but dishevelled and wild atop his head with a small, level fringe of hair covering the right half of his forehead. His clothes were even more outlandish compared to before. He wore a sleeveless shirt, the cloth dirty red like aged rust, gray cargo pants held tied to his waist by a simply black cloth belt bound by two metal rings, and a pair of black combat boots with scuff marks on the visible steel caps at the front of the footwear. The supposed noble looked practically bandit-like in comparison to his previous dress.

To Ruby's surprise, the tall girl did not mirror the growing anger from the red-haired boy, instead, she matched his step forward and squinted her eyes, glaring into the glowing red irises of the noble. Roan held her gaze for a moment longer, before sighing as he stepped back from his team leader. The tension in the room almost visibly lifted at that moment, letting Ruby breathe a little easier.

"Alright, I got it, I was outta line. But I ain't dressing like some corporate rat just to make you or anyone else happy," Roan said, his crimson eyes flicking over to Ruby at the door. "We have a guest," he spoke in a mock noble accent.

Natasha's eyes widened for a moment, as her features went somewhat slack. Ruby almost expected the military-themed girl to blush, but instead she simply stood straight, and her features sharpened again.

"I-... I'm sorry you had to see this." Natasha threw one last glare from the corner of her eye to the now relaxed noble, an almost knowing glare which spoke volumes, but Ruby couldn't gleam it's meaning. "My name is Natasha, and this-" she paused and turned to the three others in turn, "-is Roan, Melania,-" who was sprawled out in nearby lounge chair and gave a tired, apathetic wave, "-and Vladimir." The latter was sitting in a very high window sill, almost ten feet off the ground, seemingly completely ignoring the heated words as his attention was buried in a book held with his right hand, which was bound in tight black wrappings along with the rest of his arm in contrast to the billowing sleeve which hid his left arm entirely.

Ruby's silver orbs widened as her vision panned up from the darkly clad young man to the great weapon casually perched against the windowsill above him, the blade gleaming brightly in the light, "Is that a SCYTHE!?"

The sound of an unfamiliar voice elicited Vlad's gaze to shoot up in search, however, Ruby could discern no emotion from the faceless visage of his mask. As the empty black holes of his mask settled on Ruby, his head ever so slightly tilted to one side, his hand shutting the book it held almost as an after-thought. Vlad grabbed the curved wooden staff of his weapon and hopped down from the ledge before slowly approaching the excited girl. "..Yes?" The sheer amount of uncertainty in his voice contrasted his appearance so completely, but Ruby was only focused on one thing.

"Wow, it's a traditional style, too! Did you make it?" The red-tinted brunette positively gushed as she zipped forward, moving at nigh-unseeable speeds around Vlad as she tried to see the scythe in every way possible. He stopped in his tracks as the red-themed girl sped past at blisteringly high speed. His head turned from side to side momentarily until she spoke again, from behind him. "I haven't seen a scythe like this since I trained with my Uncle Qrow."

"Um.. no I didn't." Vlad spun to look at Ruby face-to-face, both standing at nearly the same height. He changed his grip on his weapon so it was in front of him now, giving Ruby no reason to go behind him again.

"Did someone give it to you, then? It looks waaay too well-kept to just be someone's idea of a throwback weapon," Ruby continued on her glee-fueled rant, her hands hovering in front of her as her fingers twitched. It looked like it was taking all her restraint not to tear the bladed weapon from Vlad's grasp to get a better look at it.

"Yes, it was a gift.. from an old friend" Vlad's voice started to waver some as he slowly slid his hind-foot backwards. His shoulders started to slouch and his torso turned away, but her onslaught of questions continued.

"That's so cool!" Ruby cooed, leaning her upper body forward just enough that her face reflected in the mirror-like blade of the scythe. "I wonder what alloy they used to make the blade. Do you know? Metal normally doesn't shine like that unless it's valuable, like silver. But you can't use silver for blades. Is it titanium?"

Ruby had another question on the tip of her tongue before a hand gently sat on her shoulder, cutting off her train of thought and drawing her attention with a somewhat confused expression. As she turned to see who was behind her, she realized that she kept pushing Vlad further and further back until they almost hit the opposing wall. Natasha released her shoulder as she offered a sincere, almost sad expression to the excited teenage girl.

"Your name is Ruby, right?" the girl in question now turned to face Natasha, who slightly leaned to look her eye-to-eye. "Please understand, Vlad isn't the most, social person in the team. I'm sure you mean well, but you're somewhat upsetting him. Could you give him some space?"

"O-Oh," Ruby murmured, jostled from her weapon-love-rant to turn back to Vlad. "S-Sorry," she said sheepishly, taking a conscious step back and extending her hand towards her fellow scythe user.

"My name's Ruby Rose, It's a pleasure to meet you," she spoke with her best puppy dog face on.

Vlad quickly resumed his earlier disposition as he slightly bowed from the waist. "My name is Vladimir Ebon, it's nice to meet you too, Ms. Rose."

Ruby awkwardly withdrew her hand as she saw his bow, but gave an absolutely adorable smile as she bowed as well, "You can just call me Ruby."

At that precise moment, the remainder of Team RWBY made their way into the room. The trio was somewhat worse for wear, looking slightly fatigued as they had been made to rush after their leader. Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, did not appreciate having to sprint outside of combat.

"Ruby! What have I told you about leaving us behind?" the white-haired girl chastised, an irritated scowl on her face as she surveyed Team REPR. "I am deeply sorry about her. I'm Weiss Schnee, a pleasure to meet all of you," she added, hands going through the practised motions of giving a curtsey as she dipped and rose again.

Blake Belladonna gave the four members of Team REPR a nod of acknowledgement, "Blake Belladonna."

As Team RWBY filed into the training room, Yang Xiao Long was the last to enter. The blonde brawler sauntered in, brimming with her usual confidence and radiance as she looked over the members of Team REPR, her gaze resting last on Roan.

_Well hello tall, dark and red_, she thought to herself as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

Roan caught her look as his gaze moved on from Blake Belladonna and settled on Yang's own eyes, then her hair, and finally her voluptuous figure. With a grin Team REPR hadn't seen in months, the crimson-haired ruffian moved from his place leaning against the table and strutted forward to stand just a few feet from the fiery boxer.

"I'm going to be straight with you," the shotgun wielding Reaper spoke, grin stretching his features. "We saw the clips from the Initiation, and I gotta say, you were _hot_."

"Did he just…" Blake Belladonna's eyes widened as she realized what Roan had just said,_ ...make a pun!?_

Yang Xiao Long was taken aback by the sudden words, the flirty line on her train of thought vanishing. She was Yang, _the_ Yang. Nobody out did her with puns! It was unheard of! And despite the sheer audacity of it, Yang caught a giggle escaping her throat, making Roan's grin grow even wider.

"Ahem," came the small cough as a loop of cable and several pieces of metal wrapped themselves neatly around Roan, before he was violently yanked back and thrown into a chair. "Melania Pearl," Melania spoke evenly as she stepped forward, the brunette biker and the blonde brawler locking eyes as the cable to Melania's sword condensed back down into an eccentric scimitar. They gave each other a once over, both having cut-off jackets and blooming hair.

"Got a problem?" Yang spoke up, murky whispers of red beginning to make their way into her eyes as she stepped forward.

"No, I don't have a problem, but you will if you don't back up, _bitch_," Melania replied with a positively venomous undertone, her dark eyes narrowed at the bright girl in front of her.

"Yang…" Ruby spoke cautiously, already seeing where this was going after that last quip from Melania.

"Melania!" Natasha barked, her body snapping rigid at the rudeness of her teammate.

"NORA!" came the sudden cry as a form of hyperactive pink and white topped with bright orange hair sprung up right between Melania and Yang, shocking the two out of their staring contest of doom.

"Sorry about the wait, guys," Jaune Arc's apology arrived in time with its owner, as the rest of Team JNPR walked into the middle of what could have been a blood-bath. Ever the nervous one, Jaune noticed the tension hanging above the two sharply contrasting yet similar women in the center of the room. "I think we just interrupted something…"

"And thank Dust you did," Roan groaned from his place in the chair, his right hand rubbing at the back of his head where it had it the wall during his less than graceful landing.

"THE MASK!" Nora exclaimed suddenly, rushing away from Yang and Melania and beelining straight for Vlad. Before the scythe-toting young man could even react, the pink-loving Valkyrie had almost grabbed his mask from his face. "I must know!"

Still somewhat shell-shocked from the earlier assault of questions, Vlad was rooted in place, like the gears in his head locked and he simply didn't know what to do. In a sudden streak of black edged by deep blue, Nora was spun one-hundred-eighty degrees. The speed stifled her momentum, as she was turned to face the door from which they had just entered. But now Natasha stood before her, clutching the bubbly girl's wrist with an iron grip.

"Easy, Momma-Wolf," Roan quipped from his place in the lounge chair, grinning like a fiend as the others in the room were blind-sided by Natasha's sudden dash after Nora.

Natasha slightly squinted her eyes and tilted her head, before she loosened her grip on Nora's hand. The orange-haired Huntress-in-training wasn't even seemingly fazed by the show of force as she hopped to the side and looked over the contrasting Natasha. "You're fast. How'd you do that?" Nora asked with a gleam of curiosity in the corner of her eye.

The black and blue Reaper ignored the question and turned to face the prying eyes of everyone watching the scene as it unfolded. "Okay, now that everyone is here, I need to lay down the law: Rule Number 1: Don't Touch Vlad's Mask. Very important. Rule Number 2-"

It was at this exact moment that the doors behind everyone burst open yet again, this time revealing the diminutive form of a girl in purple occupying the empty space once used by the doors. Towering behind her like the bronzed god of a forgotten era was a man so large and intimidating that Ruby heard Jaune gulp from several feet away. Behind the contrasting duo slouched two young men, slightly panting as their hands rested on their knees.

"It- It's not fair," the one on the left, clad in gray with a katana at his hip, gasped between breaths. "I mean, c'mon, she's a rabbit, that makes sense. But him being fine?" he said exasperatedly, pointing at the looming figure in front of them.

"H-his Semblance," was all the other boy, a taller Faunus with snow-white hair and wolf ears, responded with as much nonchalance as a man catching his breath could achieve.

"Ummmm….what?" Ruby Rose managed to process, the sudden rapid-fire turn of events from casual, to serious, to casual, to serious, to Nora having ruined her ability to think at the moment.

As if to answer any unasked questions, and resolve any unnecessary doubt, just moments after the four members of Team BLWK walked through the door, the headmaster of Beacon Academy, none other than Professor Ozpin came strolling in the now crowded training room.

"Good morning everyone. I'm sure there are plenty of answers to the mounting pile of questions, but they must wait. However, with everyone meeting their new chaperons, I need all of you to go through with your examinations." Ozpin would have left that to hang in the air, but the confusion in one student peaked.

"Examinations?" Jaune nervously spoke up from the back of the collected students, the blonde unsettled by the sudden presentation of a test.

Ozpin gave no response but other than a knowing grin and to take a sip from his ever present cup of coffee. With but a slight look of remorse at the cup of coffee in the Headmaster's hand, the titan of a man clad in bronze stepped forward. The 'gulp' was audible throughout the entire room as all the members of Teams RWBY, JNPR, and REPR had to tilt their heads back to look him in the eye.

"Indeed, examinations," his voice was deep and authoritative, almost beyond belief for a teenager. "My name is Leonidas Rosso, leader of Team BLWK. As you can guess, these are my teammates behind me," he continued, sweeping his right arm out to encompass the three older teens still in the threshold of the door.

"Kazue-" the rabbit-eared girl from before gave a slight nod, "Alastair-" the young man in gray waved casually. "And last but not least, Abel." The white-haired wolf Faunus gave everyone a slight bow as he was introduced.

"We are here to help you all on your journey to becoming successful Hunters and Huntresses," Leonidas continued, his great circular shield covering the left half of his body from his upper shins to his bicep. "And as such we must know what you are capable of. In order to do so, I have come up with a challenge for you all."

The three younger teams stirred restlessly as Leonidas took pause to let his words sink in. Oddly enough, Ruby found herself reminded much of how Ozpin would speak when talking to a group of students. Seeing that his words held the desired effect, Leonidas gave them all a grin and continued.

"A hunting expedition into the Emerald Forest," he elaborated, a quiet 'whoop' echoing from Yang and Ruby. "During which you must all demonstrate your abilities as Hunters-in-training. Much like Team RWBY and JNPR's Initiation, except with the change that instead of having to acquire relics, you must all make at least one notable kill."

The reactions were mixed as the news sank in among the twelve teens. Jaune noticeably paled as he fought the urge to whimper. Pyrrha turned her worried gaze to her leader, concern glimmering in the emerald depths of her eyes. Nora's face broke into an even wider grin, if it was possible, as she bounced in place next to Lie Ren, who looked stoic as ever.

Team RWBY, on the other hand, all felt fairly confident. Ruby and Yang shared a high-five. Weiss gave a self-assured smirk as she began planning what they should hunt. Blake gave no discernable reaction other than the almost imperceptible twitch of her bow, though none seemed to notice.

Standing near the forefront of the three teams, the members of REPR gave no visual indications of trepidation, nor confidence. Aside from Melania shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and Roan crossing his arms, they reacted as if this was normal.

"Glad to see everyone is up for it," Leonidas smiled at the group of teens confidently. "Everyone shall meet at the launch pads near the Emerald Forest in one hour. Until then, you are free to do as you will," with that the bronze colossus nodded at the group and turned on his heel, walking toward Professor Ozpin.

"I look forward to seeing how you all work together," Ozpin remarked to the three younger teams, turning and leaving the hall with Leonidas in tow.

An uneasy quiet fell over the room as Team BLWK gave everyone a quick nod and left, with the remaining students giving the shrinking backs of their chaperons confused expressions.

Yang was, as was usual, the first to speak up, "So, that was a thing."

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><p><strong>Whooo, damn. That was longer than originally anticipated. Okay, so I'm back from a short break. Girlfriend flew in to visit, good times abound, etc etc. Now I'm back after she sadly had to return home, ready and raring to get this ball a rollin'. If you notice any sudden changes in writing style, it is because Puppeteer of the Realms and I have found a writing program that allows both of us to work on a document at the same time in real time, so we are now semi-coauthoring these bad boys, meaning whomever 'owns' the story is the primary writer while the other works as a beta and helping hand. With this new program expect us to be bringing a new level in immersion between our stories, along with some more frequent updates as we no longer have to play file tag to keep in sync. <strong>

**Puppeteer's tie-in to this should be out in the next couple-a days, so keep an eye out.**

**Vale, my dear readers, and remember: You are only truly alone when you close all others out. (will be posting little philosophical quips at the ends of chapters now.)**


	4. Chapter 4: Memories Of A Bitter Cold

**Okay, people, a few things. I know I missed my deadline, by the better half of a week. If you keep up with Puppeteer of the Realms, you'll see that he posted a short note explaining what happened. For those of you that don't: My computer crapped up on me for a few days and I had to fix it. After that, it was getting this beast of a chapter done all while working around work, my masochistic need of Dark Souls 2, and trying to finally start working out again. **

**Shitty excuses, I know, but that's what happened. Any-who-ha, I hope you all can forgive me with the sheer size of this baby. This is by far the largest chapter I've ever written for any of my projects.**

**With that said, let's get on to the show. And I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><em><strong>January 2nd, 07:15AM, 451 A.G.<strong>_

"Excuse me, Headmaster Ozpin?" Leon asked in disbelief as he and Kazue caught their breath. Abel and Alastair had been left behind as Leon's long legs and Kazue's nimble heritage carried them both far ahead of the two remaining members of BLWK. Kazue leaned against the wall quietly, her sniper rifle left behind in exchange for her close quarters weapons, tucked neatly away under her jacket.

"I said, you must devise a trial for your charges," Ozpin repeated himself calmly, sipping from his ever present coffee mug to hide a grin at the look on Leon's face. "You will need to understand their abilities, Team REPR especially so, and so you must orchestrate a test for them."

"Hmmm," Leon sighed into his hand, as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed closer down the hall. "I suppose I'll just have them bag the biggest, meanest beast they can," he shrugged.

"Really, Leon? 'Kill the biggest monster you can'?" Kazue said, as she stood straight as her improved hearing caught Alastair and Abel only a little ways down the hallways, just before they rounded the corner.

"That will do," Ozpin said with a rueful smile, moving towards the door. "Enter at your own leisure, though time is of the essence."

"Yes, sir," Leon inclined his head in salute. The titanic warrior noticed his comrades had finally caught up, both slightly winded as they had been forced to sprint to catch up to Leon and Kazue.

"Let's get this over with," Kazue sighed, strolling towards the door and shoving both doors open. Kazue wasn't exactly fond of meeting new people, especially not in spades. As a result the doors practically exploded in, shocking the occupants of the room out of their conversations…

* * *

><p>Team BLWK had gone straight to the Emerald Forest launch area as soon as they had left the main training hall. In lieu of Leon's sudden exam idea of 'Kill the biggest baddie', the team of second years was now required to stir up the local Grimm in the forest below. Alastair had been charged with clearing out some of the weaker Grimm to keep this exercise from taking all day.<p>

"You just had to pick a bag-and-tag," Alastair sighed into his comm-link ear-piece as he walked beneath the canopy of the Emerald Forest. Small birds chirped above him, and the sounds of insects moving about the foliage chittered through the air. Alastair's left hand rested casually on the scabbard of his sword, just under the cross-guard as he walked.

"Oh, stop whining. You and I both know you won't pass up the chance to use Tempest a bit," Leon's voice came through his comm-line. A mile behind Alastair, up on the edge of the cliff lined with launch pads, Leon sat on a large stone with a specialty black Scroll in his left hand, a thermos lid full of warm coffee in his right.

Leon could clearly see most of the forest with the aid of the swarms of watcher drones that Beacon kept for these situations. The small hovering robots could move undetected about the forest, tracking people to ensure their safety and monitor their progress. Leon had one of these drones following Alastair now, watching as the gray-clad swordsman strode confidently through the green forest.

"This is Kazue, I'm in position," came a quick line over the comm. Kazue had been sent to find a nice, high place that she could snipe from to provide support. Swiping away the window that showed Alastair's path through the woods, Leon opened an above-view map to see Kazue's exact location.

"Abel?" Alastair's voice rang across the comm as Leon saw that Kazue was about two miles out and up on a small plateau. _Leave it to her to cover that much ground and find the perfect spot to plink at things for miles_, Leon thought to himself with a smirk.

"Abel's here with me, doing his spirit walker thing," Leon joked. Looking to his left, Abel was sprawled out under a tree with his feet kicked up and his hands behind his head. If one glanced at him, it would appear as if he was napping. However, if you let your gaze sweep over him properly, you would see the fine, pale outline of his Aura and notice the near death-like stillness of his chest.

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><p>"Copy that," Alastair nodded to himself, a habit he had never shaken when using the comm-lines. He had made it another quarter mile further into the forest during their small conversation and check. Thus, it came as little surprise to the young Hunter as the sounds of wildlife in the area gradually faded until there was nothing but silence around him.<p>

No birds chirped in the trees. No insects chittered along the ground. Even the wind seemed to fear making a sound, the breeze that just moments ago stirred the leaves having gone dead still. _Here they come_, Alastair thought to himself as he flicked his left thumb, loosening the catch on his sword scabbard and showing a single inch of bright steel.

As if to answer his thoughts, four Beowolves sprung from around him. Thick saliva ran from their jaws as they flew towards him. Eyes, red as coals burned in the fires of Hell, locked upon Alastair as the young man's feet spread out second-naturedly into a combat stance. Black fur was suddenly met with pale steel as Alastair's blade bit into the Beowolf in front of him, electrical energy arcing along the blade and letting the high-quality steel slice through cursed flesh like a hot knife through butter.

_One down_…, came the thought from somewhere deep in Alastair's mind. He did not know true thought at the moment, only instinct, as his body moved through motions so practiced and honed that he could have performed them blind. The Beowolf in front of him dropped dead, throat cut clean through as Alastair pivoted on his rear left foot and dropped his blade straight down. Again, electrified steel carved through the Grimm before it, cleaving the unsuspecting beast's skull in half right down the middle.

Alastair let his right foot slide out beneath him, spinning onto his back and kicking the next Beowolf in the chest and launching it over him towards the trees. The beast landed on all fours as the fourth Beowolf pounced on Alastair. But instead of the sickening crunch of a throat being bitten out or the wet ripping sound of innards being spilled, a frantic yelp skipped out of the monster's throat.

The last living Beowolf cocked its head in wonder. Surely its comrade could defeat the tiny, squishy human. But even as the last monster pondered this its former comrade's body shifted and the human rolled out from under it. The human's left hand was clutching its former comrade's throat tightly, small sparks of blue energy arcing along his fingers and into the downed Beowolf's body until the hellish light faded from its eyes.

"Alright, c'mon, you ugly son of a bitch," Alastair taunted the last Beowolf as he rolled to his feet. He held his sword in a comfortable grip in his right hand, arcs of electricity pulsing across the fingers of his left hand as he waited for the Grimm to attack.

Like most Beowolves, this one was not the sharpest knife in the block. The beast charged straight at Alastair, guttural roar emanating from its throat as its jaws spread wide to take in the throat of its victim. Alastair was no victim, however, side-stepping to the right and avoiding the Beowolf easily. His left hand flickered out, and a single thin bolt of lightning shot from his palm and struck the Beowolf squarely in the chest.

The monster hit the ground with a loud thud, a single pathetic whimper rising up from its chest before the light of its eyes also faded.

"And then there were none," Alastair breathed out slowly, right arm twirling the blade of Tempest's Edge in a single counter-clockwise circle before jerking down sharply, casting the dark, ichor-like blood of the Grimm off of the blade and onto the ground. In practiced form, Alastair sheathed his sword and let out a loud sigh.

_It's almost easy now…. I can remember when this sword felt like the weight of the world on my hands….._

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><p><em><strong>November 4th, 440 A.G.<strong>_

Alastair Wintergale, eight years old, moved his feet quickly along the pale, sandy beach just beyond the backyard of the large mansion he called home. It was a cold day, warm for the later half of November, and the frosty winds coming off the ocean only added to Alastair's difficulty.

The young boy's left shoe caught in the sand as he stepped to the side to dodge another chunk of ice, just about the size of a ping-pong ball, that would have struck him in the center of the chest if not for his movement. He hadn't expected his shoe to get caught, however, and ended up face down in the sand.

The blue eyed little boy groaned into the sand, as he pushed his hands into the pale grainy stuff. His black hair was a trim and proper cut, close cut to the curvature of his head while still keeping with the latest style seen in noble children at the time. He wore a light gray t-shirt, just slightly too big for him, and baggy gray pants that allowed for good leg movement. Despite his appropriate apparel for the colder climate and brisk breeze, this did not help him avoid the ground beneath his feet.

"You need to keep better eye on your surroundings," a strong voice chided, as a hand came down and grabbed Alastair by the scruff of his collar. The boy was heaved to his feet and the same hand ran along the edges of his face to inspect for injury.

"Yes, sir," Alastair, his voice tiny and apologetic, answered as he followed the large hand holding his chin up the connecting arm to his father's right shoulder. Alastair's father was an intimidating man, With his close-cut black hair, piercing hazel eyes, and strong features, Alastair's father Tristan looked every bit the descendant of a noble line of warriors that he was.

Tristan Wintergale was clad much the same as his son, though his shirt was more fitting and his left hand still maintained the frosty vapor that had surrounded it for the past half-hour. Alastair's eyes flicked down to his own left hand, the beginnings of a frown forming on his face before his father's grip tightened just enough to grab Alastair's attention.

"Listen, son," Tristan Wintergale spoke with a small undertone of impatience in his voice. "You must focus not only on your opponent, but also on the environment around you. Where is the footing bad? Are there environmental hazards like cliffs or lakes? Are there things nearby that you can use to your advantage? You must think of all of these things while fighting."

"But, Dad," the young heir of the Wintergale's whined, "It's hard to think about all that while trying to not get hit in the face." The young boy pouted as his father's same hand left his chin and patted him twice upon the top of the head before Tristan stood.

"That's why you have to train hard, Alastair. Fighting well rarely comes naturally, and even then those who it does must practice to hone their instincts," Tristan explained, hoping his young son understood. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"I think so," Alastair responded, right forefinger ideally scratching his chin as he stared at the ground. Tristan sighed audibly, shaking his head at his son. The head of the Wintergale Household and Chief Developer of Wintergale Technologies forced a smile onto his face, as he gazed down at his boy.

"Why don't we call it quits for today and you go see your mom, hmm?" he told young Alastair. "I'm going to have to go down to the office and take care of some things anyway."

"Okay!" Alastair beamed up at his father, giving him a tight hug around the waist before running towards the manor.

"And be sure to take a shower before you see her! She won't want you smelling like sweat and sea-water!" Tristan called after his son. "What will I do with that boy…" he sighed.

_**May 6th, 441 A.G.**_

"How was your training with your father this morning, Alastair?" Sandra Wintergale asked her son during their lunch. She was a beautiful woman with long chocolate brown hair that she kept in an elegantly styled ponytail, a flattering dark blue blouse and dark gray skirt complimenting her as she sat across from her son on the patio at the back of the mansion. Her forest green eyes sparkled as she looked over her boy.

"I think I made Dad angry," Alastair said quietly, his strictly taught manners set aside as he idly pushed his food around on his plate. "You remember how he unlocked my Aura ?"

Sandra frowned slightly, reaching her right hand out to stroke the back of Alastair's left, "Of course I do. You were so excited that it was the same color as your father's. Why, what's the matter?"

"Dad says my Sem-by-lants," Alastair began, struggling with the word.

"Semblance, sweetie," Sandra supplied with a smile, the look of focus on her son's face absolutely adorable.

"Yeah, Sem..bl...ance. Dad says my Semblance should have shown up by now," Alastair said, looking down at his plate again and absently scooping up a forkful of the gourmet macaroni and cheese on the plate and eating it. "He said that's what his ice powers are. Dad told me that all the great fighters and heroes in our family had an ice Semblance."

Sandra's frown returned at these words, but she forced it away to give an encouraging smile to her beloved boy, "Don't fret about it, Alastair. I'm sure your Semblance will show up soon. And when it does I'll make sure your father can see it."

"Okay, Mom," little Alastair smiled up at his mother, happy that she believed in him. With his spirits raised slightly, Alastair began to eat with more gusto. He almost began to shovel food into his mouth before he remembered his manners and took quick, measured bites. His father always said to present the image of nobility, even when eating.

Sandra smiled warmly at her son's actions. Little Alastair always tried so hard to be like his father that one couldn't find it anything other than cute. Though he was only nearing his tenth birthday, the little boy would try and dress in miniature or younger-designed versions of his father's clothes whenever they went out and would always look at Tristan for cues of what to do.

It was that very same sheer admiration that made it so hard for Sandra to watch her son walk in his father's footsteps. Despite how much Alastair tried, it seemed that Tristan was never satisfied. Alastair's manners could always be better, his fighting skills were too poor, even the boy's grades from his tutors never seemed to lighten the load that was Tristan Wintergale's expectations.

"Mom… Mommy!" Alastair's voice snapped his mother out of her musings.

"What is it, sweetie?" Sandra asked, raising an eyebrow at her son. Judging by the slightly miffed look on his face, he must have been trying to get her attention for a few moments.

"I finished my meal. Can I- May I please be excused?" Alastair spoke, correcting his grammar partway through his sentence. Sandra's bright green eyes moved down to the now empty plate, along with the glass that had contained juice a moment before. Both were totally empty and Alastair looked at his mother expectantly.

"Go ahead, Alastair," Sandra consented. A bright smile bloomed on Alastair's face as he got up from his seat at the patio table, pushing the chair in when he was clear of it.

"I'm going to go practice my Aura some more," Alastair told his mother, before the small boy ran off towards the inside of the house, missing the sad expression that darkened Sandra's beautiful features.

The mansion was large and extravagant, yet still tasteful enough to avoid becoming gaudy. The walls of the mansion were painted a light, muted gray that was more forgiving than a stark white building without being dark enough to be foreboding. Off white paint contrasted against the gray at all the windowsills and banisters around the exterior, drawing one's eye comfortably.

The interior walls of main corridors of the manor were the same gray as the exterior, with silver light fixtures tastefully placed evenly along the hallways and walkways to give the place a lively feeling. Decor changed from room to room, with the large living room having a classical style of couches and recliners spaced aesthetically around a large flat-screen television. The kitchens were large and industrial, as the servants of the home went about their duties cleaning up after the midday meal and preparing their own late lunches. The door to Tristan's study was open, revealing a modest desk stacked with papers and profit manifests. Next to the desk was a wide and tall drafting table, the most basic stages of a design for a new prototype automaton discernible from the quick sketches and notes.

Alastair sped past all these things, making his way straight to his bedroom. His room was big, almost a suite in and of itself really. His bed took up one corner of the room, the four posts of its frame holding back the drapes around it until it was time for him to go to sleep that evening. His sheets were pale blue, like that of a mid-morning sky, as were the drapes hung on the bed-frame's upper section. The walls of the room were a lighter gray, closer to off white than black, with a polished oak floor stretching across the entire room. A desk with a neat stack of shelves next to it occupied another corner of the room, his school books and supplies organized and tucked away as he had already finished his lessons for the day. A toy chest sat unopened, filled with many odds and ends that the boy enjoyed playing with whenever he wasn't doing anything else. Several dark light oak dressers lined the eastern wall next to his closet, both filled with the many outfits he wore both at home and out in public appearance.

The thing Alastair was most interested at the moment, however,was the plain black and dark blue roll-out mat that he spread out in the middle of the floor. It was padded to allow someone to sit in a proper meditative position for long amounts of time without growing sore, and was also large enough for Alastair to lay out on if he so chose. The young boy quickly changed into a set of his designated training clothes, the loose shirt and pants, and sat cross legged in the center of the mat with his hands on his knees.

"Dad said to close my eyes, focus on bringing out my Aura, and try and find the place in it that seems most powerful," Alastair repeated to himself, before his head drooped.

"But what does that mean? I only learned how to bring out my Aura a few months ago," he sighed to himself. For a nine, soon to be ten year old boy, he felt awfully more stressed than he should.

But, there was a reason for that. Even if Alastair was too young to pick up on it directly, part of him still knew that his father was disappointed in him. He didn't know or understand why, with as hard as he tried, but he knew that Tristan was. So, Alastair had made the silent vow to himself to discover his Semblance by his tenth birthday. His own father had found his Semblance at ten, so if Alastair could do just as good or better, he was sure Tristan would be proud.

"Okay, Alastair, focus," he breathed to himself, getting back into proper meditation position again.

The young boy closed his eyes and concentrated. His breathing gradually slowed, as the muscles of his young body relaxed. He looked into himself, his mind clear, as he felt for the power that was Aura.

It did not take long to find it, and was getting easier every time he did. He found what felt like a deep well within himself, a small candle-flame's worth of light. In his mind's eye, he walked to the edge of the well and fell forward. His mind's eye, his mental self, dropped rapidly down this increasingly bright tunnel until he hit the brilliantly glowing pool of pale blue energy at the bottom.

Power suffused his entire being as he tapped into his Aura. He could feel the energy moving through his body, a warm, happy sensation as it brought to life all of his nerves and brought the world into greater focus. He felt the energy pour into every last cell in his body, and a pleasant sensation bloomed just behind his eyes.

Slowly cracking open his eyes, Alastair's entire body was now wrapped in a pale blue Aura, the shade just a few tones off from aqua. He felt the pleasant sensation behind his eyes again and turned his head to look at the mirror on one of his dressers. Just like the last time he had used his Aura, his normally cerulean irises now glowed the same color as his Aura. It had scared him the first time it happened, but now it was comforting. It made Alastair feel rooted, powerful. A strange feeling for a nine year old boy.

"Now, concentrate," he reminded himself as he turned over his left hand, palm facing the ceiling as he rested it on his left knee. "Dad uses his Semblance with his hands, I should try that."

And so Alastair focused…..

Later the evening…

The Wintergales had just concluded dinner an hour ago. The meal had gone well, if not slightly tense as Sandra and Tristan discussed how work went for Tristan that day. Alastair had sat and listened obediently, eating his meal as he listened to his parents talk. When it had come to his turn to speak of his day, he had looked down and softly spoken about practicing with his Aura. Tristan had seemed pleased by this, though Sandra had frowned and told Alastair that he should play from time to time.

Now, Tristan and Sandra Wintergale lounged in their large bedroom suite, taking the time they so seldom got to speak to one another. The room was styled very similarly to Alastair's, with dressers and such along the walls. Though, in difference, the couple's bed was positioned in the center of the northern wall, This is where the couple was currently sprawled out, Sandra curled up next to her husband as they spoke.

"I'm worried about Alastair," Sandra spoke up after several minutes of silence, her face pressed against Tristan's robe-clad chest as they lay in their sleep attire.

"What do you mean?" Tristan asked as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking at his wife. A subtle downturn of his lips, not deep enough to be a true frown but not his normal expression, was on his face.

"I know you just want what's best for him. I do. But I get the feeling sometimes that he's missing out on being a child," Sandra said, not meeting her husband's eyes. "Today he said he thought you were angry at him because he hadn't found his Semblance yet."

Tristan sighed at this, his free left hand wiping upwards over his face and pushing back his hair, "I didn't realize it was bothering him that much. While it's true that I'm frustrated, I'm not angry at him. It just seems like he has stopped improving since we first started this training for him. He avoids most of the fake attacks I throw at him now, but he is still too skittish to attempt to counter in any way. And if he can't unlock his Semblance, I fear that he'll get stuck in a rut. He's my son, a Wintergale. We've been warriors for as far back as anyone can remember."

"I know that, my love," Sandra said, finally locking eyes with her husband. A fierce light, that of a mother's love, shimmered in the emerald depths of her eyes. "But our family is also one of the leading groups in technology now. I know it is tradition, but maybe Alastair doesn't have to be a warrio-"

A sudden knock at the door startled both of them, stopping Sandra's sentence as they both looked at the entrance to the room. "Enter," Tristan called, sitting up properly to see who could be bothering them at this time of night. The non-live-in servants should have all gone home by now and the live-ins all went to their quarters at nine.

To both adult Wintergales's great surprise, the door opened to a pajama-clad Alastair. A smile like a blooming ray of sunshine lit up his face as he practically sprinted into the room, laughing happily.

"I did it! I did it!" he cheered, hurrying across the room to his parents. All discipline and regiment forgotten in his mirth, Alastair leapt into the bed and hugged his mother and father, laughing merrily.

"Did what?" Sandra asked, thrown off by her son's sudden behavior. At dinner he had been so demure and quiet it had been almost sad. Why now was he so excited and happy when he knew he should be in bed asleep at this hour?

"My Semblance! I finally found my Semblance!" the blue-eyed boy beamed up at his parents, a quiet gasp echoing from both of them.

"That's wonderful, son!" Tristan's face broke into a smile, as Sandra gave her son a happy pat on the head. "Let's see it!"

"Okay!" Alastair said, crawling off the bed and hopping to his feet. "Here it is," he said, as he turned to face them and held up his left hand, palm facing the ceiling.

Young Alastair closed his eyes as his parents stared expectantly. His Aura, bright as a pale blue star in the dimly-lit bedroom, shined from his very being and slowly moved across his body and down his left arm. There it settled into his left hand and seemed to fade for several moments. Just as Tristan and Sandra were about console their son for trying, a quiet hum came from Alastair. The hum got progressively louder then suddenly stopped, as light bloomed and settled in Alastair's hand again. There, above the thin veil of his pale blue Aura, a single arc of energy jumped from his thumb to his pinkie finger. First one, then another from his thumb to index finger, then from his pinkie to his index finger, and in moments a small storm of electrical sparks arced all along his hand. It was then that Tristan and Sandra Wintergale realized that their son's Aura was not the pale blue commonly associated with Ice Semblance users, but different. It was the bright, radiant blue of lightning in the night sky. The blue of electricity.

A look of horror marred Sandra's face, eyes wide as her mouth hung slightly open. Tristan's eyes widened like saucers as a his jaw tightened and his gaze turned dark. It shifted from their son to his wife, as Alastair opened his eyes.

The boy's smile faltered as he saw the terrible looks on his parents' faces, his Aura and the electricity fading as his smile disappeared and was replaced by an increasingly worried expression, "Mommy….? Daddy….?"

_**September 9th, 441 A.G.**_

Alastair opened his eyes to the painfully white ceiling, bright florescent lights shining down through a thin mesh above him. He moved to sit up, but found he was unable. He turned his head, looking down at his arms. Wrapped tightly around his forearms and elbows were several straps, keeping them bound down to the bed. Straining to lean his head forward, he saw that his waist and legs were similarly bound.

_Attempt thirty-five, failed_. He thought to himself dryly as he let his head fall back against the plain white pillow beneath it. Casting his gaze at the corner of his eye, he saw the white sheets and comforter that he lay on top off. Beyond that the white bedframe, white floor, white walls. Too much white.

"-id actually busted the pipes?"

The sudden voice both terrified and excited Alastair. He raised his pale blue eyes up from the floor to look across the room. His eyes had never gone back to cerulean after he unlocked his Semblance.

The room was thirty feet by thirty feet, large and open with a high ceiling. Normally this would be wanted, but not in this case. In all of the massive room,. there existed only a stark white bed with white sheets, comforter and pillow, a white trunk stuffed with plain white t-shirts and loose-legged white pants, a white desk without drawers or cabinets, and a white bookshelf loaded with textbooks and school supplies. In the corner of the room completely opposite and across from the bed, was a small walled-off area.

This was Alastair's bathroom. Where the voice had come from. Where he had used his Semblance yesterday to electrify all the water in the pipes and make them explode. His latest attempt at getting either some form of attention or an opening to escape.

He had been thrown in here the week after he showed his parents his Semblance, by no less than Tristan Wintergale himself. Alastair forced back the memory of his father's enraged face as he noticed the door to the room was open.

Normally the door slid up from the floor to the ceiling and making a makeshift wall, almost appearing as if there were no door at all. At meal times a small slot would open along the bottom of the door, allowing a tray of simple bread, cheese, and an awful tasting soup that supposedly held all the other nutrients he needed to stay healthy.

"Yeah. Apparently the kid has a destructive Semblance," another voice said. Alastair's eyes locked on the bathroom again, seeing a man with blonde hair wearing a plain blue plumber's jumpsuit walk out holding a clipboard.

"Destructive? Looked like a bomb went off in there," came the first voice, as another man carried a small tool bag into the large room and walked into the tiny bath area. He had had brown hair and wore the same coverall as the first.

"Shut up and finish tightening off the last bits for the faucet," the blonde said, noticing Alastair was awake and making a point to turn his back to the boy.

_Just like every other time, huh? They never look at me. Never talk to me. Just ignore me…._ the thoughts came unbidden to his head.

Every time he had tried to get someone's attention or to escape, he had been left alone until he finally passed out from exhaustion. And every time he awoke afterwards, he would be strapped to the bed as he was now, while whatever needed repaired or replaced was taken care of. Then the workers would leave, just like every time before.

As Alastair recounted his first attempt, shredding his textbooks, the two plumbers left the room. The advanced door slid up behind them, and Alastair was left alone. Shredding textbooks, blocking the toilet in the small bath with unholy amounts of toilet paper, smashing the desk and chair, etcetera etcetera etcetera, until his latest attempt: Channeling electricity into the water in the pipes to make them burst. What he hadn't accounted for was the pressure shift as all the water in the pipes turned to steam, the sudden plume of hot air from every pipe mildly burning him as he was propelled out of the basic bathroom. If not for his Aura, he surely would have had second and third degree burns.

_Just go back to sleep… You never get to see them untie you anyway…_ he told himself as he closed his eyes.

_**September 10th, 441 A.G.**_

When he awoke again, the restraints were gone. Alastair groaned quietly at the soreness of his limbs from being kept immobile so long, shaking his legs and rotating his arms to work the stiffness out. He stood from the plain white bed and made his way to the bathroom across the large, nearly empty expanse that was his cell.

He wore one of the several sets of white t-shirts, loose-legged pants, and white boxers. Shoes and socks were a comfort he was no longer allowed, as he walked across the smooth floor to the bathroom so far yet so near.

The nine-year-old boy reached the bathroom in less than a minute, walking through the empty threshold and into the tiny area. A small, single-unit shower stall was in one corner, the most basic of soaps and shampoos inside. A toilet, six rolls of toilet paper stacked neatly into two columns atop the back, was next to the shower. And finally a small faucet occupied the space directly next to the door. The most basic of modern living.

Alastair relieved himself and flushed the toilet once done, washing his hands thoroughly with one of the coarse, basic bars of soap on the small counter. Exiting the bathroom area, he walked away from the walled off corner that was the bath area and went back to his bed. He sprawled out on the plain white furniture, once again staring at the bright ceiling.

_What did I do?_ The thought came to him before. It had visited him the first night he had spent in this abysmal room. And every night after. Though now, after almost four months in the never dimmed room, night and day were indifferential.

A small chime came from a speaker hidden amongst the lights in the ceiling, signalling that the door was going to open soon. Alastair did not even bother trying to rush the door as he had the first time he realized what this chime meant. It originally signaled that he was about to be given one of his meals. This signal changed meanings, however, after he had tried wedging his arm in the food-tray slot of the door to escape. A boot, for that's all he could see, had kicked his arm back through the small opening and it had promptly shut. For the next week after that, he had gotten only water.

Thus it came as a great surprise to him when the door actually opened, from upper wall to floor, and his mother stood in the door. Alastair's eyes widened at the sight, for the beautiful woman he seen in his memories, in the dreams he had of being set free from this awful place, was not the woman in the doorway.

Her hair was not in the elegant ponytail it normally was, instead it was messily draped down her shoulders. Her eyes, once vibrant with life, were now filled with a deeply haunted look. The smile that Alastair had missed more than anything, was instead replaced by a desperately held back grimace as the woman who was his mother sprinted into the room. Her clothes, still the deep blue blouse and gray skirt, were disheveled as though she had dressed quickly. The door shut behind her as soon as she was clear.

Before Alastair could even utter a word, he was being smashed into his mother's strong hug. She held him tightly, wracking sobs shaking the both of them as she chanted, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." over and over. The young boy was shell-shocked at the sudden display. Shouldn't he be the one apologizing for whatever it was he'd done. Shouldn't he be the one looking haggard, broken and disheveled as he pleaded forgiveness?

It was Alastair's complete stillness in his mother's arms that pulled Sandra from her woe filled mantra, releasing the vice-like grip she had to wipe her eyes quickly and look at him. His now pale blue eyes gazed unbelieving at her, as the hair which had formerly been so well kept stopped just above his eyebrows. He had lost some weight during his time in what he had called The Room, his formerly full, youthful cheeks having grown slightly gaunt.

"Alastair?" she spoke, looking her son in the eye. "Alastair please say something."

"...You aren't a dream, again, are you?" came the quiet, desperate voice of Alastair as his arms locked around his mother's waist. "Please don't just be another dream!"

Tears welled up in Sandra's eyes anew, as she held her son close, "No, honey. I'm not a dream. I'm right here." Alastair's only inclination that he heard her at all was to squeeze her middle tighter, his small arms clinging with all their strength.

"Why did Daddy put me here?" his quiet sobs stabbed at Sandra's heart. "What did I do to make him so mad at me? Why does he hate me?"

"It's my fault, Alastair, it's all my fault," Sandra spoke quietly, fighting to keep from breaking down again as she stroked her son's messy hair.

"What? How is it your fault?" Alastair said slowly, pulling back to look his mother in the eye as much as he could without letting go of her. In the end, his hands clung to her shirt, fistfuls of fabric clenched tightly in his little hands.

"Your father," Sandra began, stroking Alastair's hair again as a lump suddenly formed in her throat. "Your father, isn't actually your daddy, Alastair."

"...What? Of course he is. He's your husband. My Daddy," Alastair said, eyes wide that his mother would ever say such a thing.

"No, Alastair, he isn't," Sandra repeated, this time more firmly. "Did you read the books I made them leave you? The ones about how babies are born?"

Alastair looked confused for a moment, before realization dawned on him as he remembered the books he'd read. Books of biology and anatomy, toned down to make them more understandable for children. Books that explained what exactly happened to make a baby.

"So….. you… and Daddy…. didn't… make me?" he finally said, looking deeply hurt as his eyes lost focus. Sandra had to bite the edge of her lip as she felt yet another heart-string break at her son's horrified look.

"No, Alastair. We didn't. I and another man, named Hector Strom, we… made you," Sandra said, forcing the words out.

"It had happened in our last year at Beacon Academy. We were teammates, along with Hector and a girl named Meredith. We had gone on a mission, to exterminate a colony of Grimm near a small village. A King Taijitsu, a big two-headed snake Grimm, hurt your father badly. He was hospitalized for over a month."

"I didn't know what to do. Your father was laying in a hospital bed, floating between life and death, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do. I found myself breaking into a teacher's office, taking the whiskey that every student knew he kept in his drawer for after hours. Hector found me hours later, trying to drown my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. I was far beyond drunk, and needed someone to help me, hold me, comfort me. And Hector had always been so nice to me, in a flirty friend kind of way. He had stopped when your father and I started dating, because I had asked him to."

"I don't hold it against him for what happened…. The girl he'd been flirting with for two years threw herself at him, and I'd forced him to have a couple drinks too. He wouldn't have been a normal young guy if he hadn't done what he did. But when we woke up in the morning, we both immediately regretted it."

"Is that when I was…." Alastair's voice, even more distant now, paused as the shell-shocked boy looked for the word that the books had used. "When I was conceived?"

"Yes," Sandra nodded, worry weighing down upon her like a pile of bricks on her chest. "Your father got better not long after that, and as soon as he was able to walk, he proposed to me. I accepted, but not without my doubts, especially when I found out a month later I was pregnant with you."

"Hector agreed not to mention our drunken night together, and we kept it from your father all the way up until the day you were born. That was one of the most heart-warming and terrifying days of my life."

"Why?" Alastair said, glassy electric blue eyes staring into his mother's own green orbs. "Didn't you want me?"

Sandra fought back a sob as she hugged Alastair closely, "Of course I did, dear. I love you with every ounce of my being. It wasn't that I didn't want you, it was my fear that your father would shun you. You have your hair and looks from me, but your eyes were that deep, cerulean blue from the moment you first opened them. Neither myself or your father had blue eyes, but Hector did. His eyes were the same electric-blue yours are now."

"Thankfully, your father believed me when I said that my grandfather had blue eyes, and never worried. Hector knew, of course, that you were his son, but kept his promise. Your father and I took you home, and raised you just like the Wintergale you were. But, about a year after we brought you home we got a letter from Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy. Hector had gone on a mission alone, and never came back."

Alastair's mind swam with this sudden rush of new information. His young mind struggled to wrap about the fact that his father, the man he had known as "Daddy" for as long as he could remember, was not actually his father. Some blue-eyed stranger, a man Alastair had never even seen or heard of before, was actually his father. It seemed impossible.

"Honey, I know this is a lot to take in," Sandra spoke softly, holding her one and only son close as she stroked the messy locks atop his head again. "And I know I don't deserve to say this after all that I've put you through by lying to your father all these years, but please don't hate me, please forgive me." Tears rolled down her cheeks again as she waited for the hate-filled words, the screaming and scorn from her son. It had been all she received from her husband these last few months….

"I don't hate you, Mommy," Alastair spoke up quietly, his small, pale hands pulling her face down so he could kiss her cheek. The new light in his eyes startled Sandra. A great deal of the glimmer of innocence had been wiped out inside the boy in the short half hour that she'd been in the room. A sadness, dull but strong, seemed seated in his bright blue eyes.

"You're my Mommy. The person who's always been there for me. I could never hate you," he told her, his very voice sounding as though it had been burned with some new force. It rang with a quiet emotion, what exactly Sandra couldn't identify, that made Alastair seem so much older than his nine years.

"I'm so glad to hear that," Sandra weeped as she wiped Alastair's hair out of his face to and stared intently at his appearance. She burned every last detail, from how his own drying tears clung to his black eyelashes, the way his veins had begun to show faintly against his skin as he'd turned deathly pale from lack of sunshine, all the way down to the few small flecks of darker blue amidst the sea of lightning blue that made up his eyes.

A fast, triple repeat of the earlier chime rang again, and a look of anguish settled over Sandra's face. "I can't stay much longer. Your father is coming to talk to you. No matter what he says or does, remember, Alastair. Remember that I love you more than anything in this world," Sandra hiccuped as she kissed her son's forehead one last time and stood. Alastair's eyes widened as she began walking back to the door. The boy hurried to his feet, chasing after her and firmly wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You can't go! I miss you! I miss how things were! Please don't go, Mommy. I can't stand it. I can't stand to be by myself in this room again!" Sandra looked at Alastair with a look that could only be made by that of a mother in pure agony for her child, as she forced his arms from around her waist and sat the boy down.

The door slid down to admit her through as she neared it. Sandra turned and gave Alastair one last look before she left. The teary eyed boy stared at her in disbelief. Even as he rushed to his feet again and sprinted towards the door, the specialized material of the motorized door slid back up to form a tangible barrier between them.

"Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mommy!" Sandra's green eyes stayed focused on the ground as a pair of gray slacks ending in a pair of black dress shoes entered the top of her vision.

"Take her back to her quarters," the spite filled voice of Tristan Wintergale ordered the guards stationed in the hallway outside the room. Two men in rubberized security gear stood on either side of Sandra, coaching her to the far end of the hallway to the exit. Watching his wife's fading form reach the door, Tristan Wintergale clenched his teeth for a moment before he gave the command to open the door.

Alastair fell back from the door as it suddenly descended, looking up at the man that towered over him. Gone was the slightly irritable, patient man that had been his father five months ago. Instead was a man scoured raw by lies and rage, his hazel gaze burning into Alastair's eyes like hot coals.

"Get away from the door." The voice was so gruff, so blunt with its barely constrained anger that it took Alastair a moment to realize it was his father's. He quickly pushed himself backwards on hands and feet until he was clear of the door, Tristan stepping in before the door shut swiftly behind him.

"Daddy, I-" Alastair began as he found his voice, wanting so desperately to apologize to the man he knew as his father, even if he now knew that it was not actually his fault.

"Shut. Up." The two words, heavy and cold, rang throughout the empty room and silenced Alastair immediately.

"Now you listen, and you listen well," Tristan said, stepping forward to loom over Alastair and grabbing the scruff of the boy's white collar. He yanked the boy to his feet, glowering hazel eyes inches from Alastair's own electric blue.

"The only reason your mother and I aren't having a divorce. The only reason you two are not rotting out in the streets, is because my own father, my actual father, advised me not to," he told Alastair in a voice so hateful, so full of cold and hurt and malice that Alastair had to find a chill from running down his spine. "And the only reason he told me not to is because it would look bad on the family, and on the company. So, here is exactly what is going to happen: You are going to stay here, alone, and work those textbooks and everything else you are given until you are old enough to apply for a low-level engineering position at the head developement center where I can keep an eye on you. Your whore mother will continue to live with me, keeping up the appearance of a happy married couple with an overly studious and shy son. You, all of this," Tristan paused to indicate the hellish white room around them, "is because of her. So if you want to be mad at anyone, or blame anymore, blame her and that fucking bastard she slept with."

"What about Mom?" Alastair spoke, his heart burning with an emotion most nine-year-olds did not know: Rage. _'How dare he call her a whore! How dare he treat us like this! We're his family! His wife and son!'_

"Didn't I tell you to shut up and sit quiet!?" Tristan said, pale blue Aura flaring along the outline of his presence.

"What. About. Mom?" Alastair repeated, childish eyes narrowing in anger as his own Aura began to glow. _'The eyes are the same! Those same damn glowing, laughing , disgusting eyes!'_ Tristan thought to himself as he held his son's gaze.

"Your mother will live in a separate wing of the mansion. She will only be with me during required social events and nothing more. And the only reason she isn't kept under lock and key as well is because of her socialite status," Tristan bit out, resisting the urge to strike Alastair. "I hope you enjoyed seeing her, you little bastard, because you won't again until your tenth birthday."

With that, Tristan turned on his heel and left the room, the door sliding down then back up rapidly to stop the young boy that had been right on his heels. Alastair smashed into the mobile section of the wall a fraction of a second after it closed, pale blue eyes glowering with rage as he slammed his tiny fists against the door.

"Give her back! Give her back!" he screamed, his Aura flaring more brightly than ever before.

"GIVE HER BAAAACCCK!" the little boy practically roared, reaching into himself and finding his Semblance. The emotions he felt, the rage and energy and hate, culminated into an explosion of electricity loosely funneled towards the door.

The sheer brightness of it all stunned Alastair for a moment, as his massive expenditure of energy caught up with him immediately. As his vision blurred, he managed to see through the bleary haze that he had done no damage to the door. In his final thoughts before the darkness at the edge of his vision took him, Alastair Wintergale cursed his father.

_**November 15th, 444.A.G.**_

Alastair cracked his eyes open to view the ceiling above his bed. The same ceiling that had been the sky of his personal Hell for the past three years. His hair, trim and proper so long ago, was shaggy and unkempt, falling to his shoulder blades in the back and covering most of his face in the front. His electric blue eyes blinked apathetically behind his long raven locks. He raised his hand up to block the light from his face, marveling at how his skin was now so pale the blue of his veins was visible against it.

_'If it wasn't for all the crap they put in my food, I'd probably be dead by now,'_ the morbid thought bloomed into his mind of its own volition. He'd been having a lot of those lately. Being alone all the time does that to a person.

Alastair swung his legs out of his bed and stood, stretching to unkink his muscles and joints. His body was almost wispy beneath his clothes, his under-worked muscles giving his frame an almost starved appearance, despite his diet keeping him well nourished. His clothes, the same blank white they were years ago, hung loosely on his frame. He looked at the door to see a tray of food already in front of the door.

_'Seems I slept in,'_ Alastair thought again. He didn't think out loud like he used to, trying to make himself feel better about the accursed silence of The Room. Now, speaking aloud just made him saddened again.

The somber boy passed his desk and school supplies, crossing the large room and stopping in front of the tray. A fair sized chunk of multi-grain bread, a bowl of the nutrient-loaded soup, a wedge of cheese, and a glass of water. The same thing every day, for the past three years.

_'At least the soup doesn't taste like it came out of a trashcan now,'_ he thought to himself as he sat down cross-legged just in front of the door and pulled the tray into his lap. He began eating calmly, spooning the bland soup into his mouth.

Eating didn't take long at all, and he put the empty tray down before the slot in the door. Then Alastair stood and walked into the small alcove that was his restroom, relieving himself after his breakfast. Another short walk across the room brought him to his trunk full of blank white clothes. He grabbed a full set, boxers, loose-legged pants, white shirt, the same bland clothes.

As he was passing his desk again, he caught sight of the makeshift calendar he'd made, peeking out from under one of his closed textbooks. As his eyes came to rest on the partially hidden calendar, realization dawned on him.

"It's the fifteenth!" he blurted out loudly, his voice cracking as pain shot through his throat. He winced and clenched his teeth as he swallowed several times, trying to soothe the pain in his throat. _Guess that's what happens when you scream after being quiet for seven months…._

Alastair did his best to ignore the pain in his throat as he rushed to the shower. He didn't even bother trying to get the water to a very comfortable temperature, leaving it scalding hot as he threw off his clothes and jumped into the small stall. A short yelp of pain escaped him as he quickly increased the amount of cold water.

He scrubbed his hair with the minimalistic shampoo and rinsed it, eyes shut tight to avoid getting the soap in them. Then he soaped himself up and rinsed, stepping out of the shower and drying himself with one of the two towels that were regularly set out for him every week. He brushed his teeth with the somewhat bad tasting toothpaste he was provided, and attempted to bring some semblance of order to his long,wild hair.

_'I wish I had a clock…'_ he mentally whined as he pulled his clothes on. His still damp feet made a quick smacking sound as he moved about the room. For the first time in almost a year, Alastair went through the once practiced motions of making his bed, tidying his desk and organizing his meager allotted belongings.

_'I have to make everything as perfect as I can. She's coming today!'_

It took Alastair only thirty minutes to get The Room completely set. He sat on his bed, the first glimmering spark of hope and excitement in almost a year burning in his heart. The boy nervously fiddling with his fingers as he waited.

'It's been a year. How has she changed? What will she think of how I changed? What's been happening in the world outside?' he pondered as he subconsciously ignited his Aura, a spark of energy jumping from his left hand to his right.

_'Stop that,'_ he chided himself, forcing his Aura back down and dismissing his Semblance completely. He had taken to using his Aura to restore some sense of peace. The pale blue glow and the crackling of the electricity a comforting sound, like the crackling of a campfire in the middle of the dark night.

Alastair subconsciously let the spark come to point again, a single point of blue in the endless white of The Room. He smiled as he watched it, the warmth and radiating energy calming his nerves. As he caught himself playing with the spark again, he let out a slow breathe and quenched the energy back into himself.

_Bing!_

The chime snapped Alastair to attention. Eagerness burst throughout his being and got to his feet. The smile on his face could have lit up a black hole, as he took quick strides towards the door. He was halfway to the door when it opened.

Alastair's smile faltered and vanished when it was not the slightly aged appearance of Sandra Wintergale that greeted him. Instead it was a girl, one only a few years older than him by the looks of it. Alastair felt himself slide into a center of balance left unattended for three years, as his feet fell into stance and his hands raised up closer to his face.

The girl looked about sixteen or seventeen. She had a fair, heart shaped face with large chocolate brown eyes. Her hair was a brighter hazelnut brown, with symmetrical black and white streaks in her hair just near her temples. Her skin was a slightly darkened peach tone, not quite tan but still somewhat darker than the typical skin tone of citizens of Vale. Most intriguing to Alastair was the pair of four inch long horns that peaked out of her hair on either sides of her forehead, a spiralling ridge wrapping around them. The near black horns curled backwards slightly, arching towards the back of her head.

_A Faunus!? Why is a Faunus here!?_

Alastair's gaze finally dropped from her face as he peered over her body. She wore a pale beige blouse and black slacks, a pair of rather high-class leather sandals wrapped around her feet. Her figure was just slightly curvy, highlighting against the somewhat masculine clothes that she was female.

"It's impolite to stare, Alastair. And put your hands down, she isn't going to hurt you," The chiding voice of Alastair's mother snapped him out of his trance as the mystery girl stepped into the room and to the left, showing that Sandra had indeed shown up.

She wore her now classic blue blouse and dark skirt, along with a matching dark gray business jacket. Her green eyes radiated almost as much joy as the smile on her face, and Alastair noticed the first inclination of lines from aging beginning to appear on her face. She moved forward quickly, covering the gap between herself and her son in seconds and scooping her son up into a hug.

"Oh, I've missed you," she spoke into her son's ear, hugging him tightly. Alastair's thin arms clutched at his mother almost defensively, pressing himself into her embrace as he felt the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

"I missed you, too, Mom," he breathed as he held his mother, before his eyes snapped open as he realized they had an audience. "Mom, who is she?" he asked, pulling out of her hug to look at the mystery girl.

Sandra smiled as she looked over her shoulder at the mystery girl and then back to Alastair, waving the girl over to them. She approached slowly, keeping her chocolate eyes on Alastair as she came within arms' reach of Sandra. She was very light on her feet, almost as if she didn't need to touch the ground to walk.

"Alastair, this is Amora Duskveld," his mother introduced, flourishing her arm a bit to indicate the mystery girl, Amora.

"Amora," Sandra said, the girl almost flinching under the unblinking gaze of Alastair. His eyes glowed with suspicion and mistrust, the almost unnatural blue sending a single strand of worry spreading through the girl. She didn't know if it was the wild yet manicured appearance, what with his unkempt hair and stark white clothes, or the look on his face like he and his mother were the last people on Remnant and she had just invaded. "This is Alastair, my son."

Alastair's gaze never left Amora even for an instant as he got to his feet and simply stared at Amora. The simple glow that dwelled behind the boy's eyes was almost intimidating as he looked Amora over once more. An odd sort of power rested in those eyes. The power of one ready to do anything and everything to keep what little they had to cling to. A power Amora could sympathize with.

"Introduce yourself properly, Alastair," Sandra reprimanded her son, who spun on his heel to look at his mother. He blinked at her twice, the casual radiant presence he had a moment ago disappearing as he looked at his mother.

"S-Sorry, Mom," he stuttered, brushing his hands against his shirt before he turned and extended his hand to Amora. "So-sorry for being rude. I'm Alastair Wint-," he began, stopping partway through. "I'm Alastair," he corrected himself.

Amora's face lit up with a smile as she saw the formerly quiet, intense wraith of the person in white before degenerate back into a nervous, now twelve-year-old boy, "Nice to meet you, Alastair," she spoke in a happy tone as she took his hand and shook it twice. "You, Alastair, need a haircut," she broke the handshake and ruffled his head.

In the blink of an eye Alastair went from beneath Amora's hand to behind his mother, eyes wide as he clung to her blouse. Amora couldn't stifle the giggle that sprung up at his antics. Alastair stared at her still, a slight blush blooming on his ghostly pale cheeks as Sandra joined Amora in laughter.

"I think Alastair deserves a bit of an explanation," Sandra chuckled as she managed to calm back down. Alastair looked up at his mother's face, curiosity plain about his pale features. Sandra gave Amora an inquisitive look of her own, to which Amora nodded slowly, almost as if to say 'it's alright'.

"Amora's family died in one of the Faunus Rights Riots last year. She was in care of the state until a few months ago. When I found out what happened, I took her in," Sandra began, seeing the look on Alastair's face turn from curiosity to sadness as he looked at Amora. Amora's gaze wandered around The Room, her hand flickering to her eye for a moment to wipe what looked like a tear.

"Tristan was furious, of course. Ranting and raving the way he does now," Sandra spoke as if she was brushing dust under a rug. "But, I couldn't just let her be. So, after one of many fights, we had to come to a conclusion. And after I broached it to Amora and explained a few things, she liked it."

Alastair's eyes darted from his mother to Amora in confusion, before finally settling back on Sandra, "I don't understand."

Amora took initiative this time, stepping forward and crouching so that she was level with Alastair, "I'm going to be staying with you, Alastair. As a… well, I guess a maid would be the technical name for it. Maid, nanny, guest, all those things. But I'd like to think we could be friends."

"Wha….? Friends?" Alastair said, eyes wide with shock. Thoughts ran through his head a mile a minute, from why to how, from everything about his isolation these past three years to now, and finally his brain addressed the one thing that his upbringing and age thought would be a problem.

"But we can't both live in The Room. You're a girl," he said, brows knit with confusion. Again Sandra and Amora pealed with laughter. Sandra's right hand mussed Alastair's already messy hair, and the boy gave them both a glare of frustration.

"What she's saying, dear, is that I managed after all these years to convince Tristan to let you out of this damned room," Sandra told her son. The effect of these words. These mere amalgamations of sounds had the most profound effect on Alastair that Sandra had ever seen on a human being.

Tears welled up and ran down Alastair's face, as his lips quivered and the first shake took him. He let out a low, quiet breath as the tears continued to run down his face, before he smiled at both of them, "Really?" It sounded to good to be true. _It's a lie, a dream. 'There's no way this is actually happening. Any minute I'll wake up strapped to the bed for trying to burn my desk to char or something. It'll just be another one of God's cruel jokes.'_ he thought to himself, daring against all his worries to hope it true.

"Really, really," Sandra and Amora spoke together.

"We're going to have to leave now, honey. Tristan refused to let you know where this room is. A gas is going to be pumped into the room to make you sleepy, but when you wake up you'll be at your new home with Amora. And one of the servants tells me Tristan has even had something sent there for you," Sandra explained, stroking her son's hair. "I'll be there too, for the rest of our visit. I love you, Alastair."

"I love you too, Mom," Alastair forced out as he began to sob with relief. Sandra stood and Amora rose from her crouch, both of the women leaving the room. Alastair almost didn't catch the smile and wave Amora gave him, right before the door closed.

As he sat there trying not to cry, a low hissing sound reached his ears. He looked up near the lights of the ceiling to see cloudy white vapor pouring into the room. As his eyes watched the vapor pour in, he realized his vision started to blur. Darkness began swimming at the edge of his vision, his body going weak. A small, wan smile touched his face as he fell sideways and crashed onto the floor.

The world came back to Alastair drastically and immediately. He lurched forwards from his place on what he assumed was the ground to get his surroundings. He was in a large, open living room. His eyes flickered about, taking in the luxurious black leather furniture scattered tastefully about the room. He felt the smoothness of the floor beneath his hands, a wooden, polished floor. His nose caught a scent, natural and pleasant.

Turning his head to the right he noticed wall-to-wall windows along the southern wall, a forest expanding beyond an equally polished patio. The ceiling arched a fair ways above him, a black fan with five arms spinning slowly.

_Leaves… I'm smelling leaves. I'M SMELLING LEAVES!_

A whoop of pure jubilance rippled out from Alastair's chest as he shot to his feet. Part of his brain acknowledged the green walls around him, the stylish lights hidden partially up into the ceiling. Next thing he was in a kitchen. Black marble counter-tops lining the walls in under dark oak cabinetry, chromed appliances here and there, shining clean sinks. And most importantly…..

Alastair tore open the door of the fridge, his eyes falling upon the pitcher of tea sitting therein, the lunch meats, the cheeses. Moving like a man, or rather boy, possessed he moved quickly around the kitchen, finding plates and glasses. He poured himself a large glass of the sweet smelling tea, along with grabbing a loaf of bread and making several sandwiches.

He ate with gusto, taking a large bite out of the first sandwich in a stack of seven. He nearly choked as he took one bite after another, taking a gulp of tea to push the food down. He let out a great sigh of content, taking a slower sip of the tea and a smaller bite.

_First bite of solid meat in years!_

"And the first thing he does after being outside of that room is go and make himself sandwiches and tea. He's going to be a man alright." Amora's voice echoed throughout the kitchen.

Alastair's head snapped to see Sandra and Amora standing in the doorway that he had passed through a moment ago. The young boy blushed slightly as he swallowed his current mouthful of food, before grinning sheepishly. He set down the glass of tea and the sandwich, then moved over to the two of them.

"We get to live here?" Alastair asked as he hugged his mother again. Sandra's smile turned sad, as she hugged her boy tighter. Amora saw the sadness in Sandra's stare, and moved back into the hallway to give them some privacy.

"You and Amora get to, honey," Sandra told her son as she crouched down herself and kissed Alastair's forehead. "That was the main condition to get you out. I'm still not allowed to see you, and you still aren't allowed to leave the wall that surrounds the grounds here, but its better than that room."

Alastair frowned at the news, as he felt a small part of himself be crushed by the words. That tiny hope, that weak, happy spark of hope that he'd get to be with his mom again disappeared and left a void in its place. He swept his eyes over his mother, staring intently as he tried desperately to memorize every small feature.

"But, we're going to set that aside now," Sandra told Alastair with a smile. "Because first things first is your presents."

"Presents?" Alastair's eyes lit up. He hadn't gotten presents on his birthday since his ninth birthday, the arrival of his Semblance and the aftermath having tarnished his tenth.

"Yes. I arranged to have it delivered to the courtyard," Sandra's eyes twinkled at her son's joy, as she let the boy through the intricate villa to the courtyard outside. From the outside the villa was a dark brown, overlapping of many natural hues along with black metal here and there and large windows. It was a vaguely modernistic Asian design,with a touch of western influence. A dark wooden patio encircled the entire perimeter of the villa, allowing one to travel all the way around it without actually setting foot inside.

The courtyard consisted of a large garden that rimmed the area, taking away the foreboding feeling that the eight foot tall stone-work wall around the villa and courtyard that kept Alastair enclosed. In truth, the boy was still caged, just in a bigger one, but he pushed this from his mind as his eyes fell on the center of the courtyard.

In the center was a large concrete platform, with steps on each of the four sides leading down. It was obviously intended as a heliport of some sort, as a bullhead airship sat waiting on one side, taking up half of the platform. On the free half of the raised area were two crates: One large and normally rectangular, standing just taller than a full grown man. The other was smaller and longer, laying along the ground. It was just under four feet long and appeared to only be a foot wide. In truth it almost looked more like an old style trunk than a shipping crate.

Alastair and Sandra made their way to the large platform from the villa, finding Amora sitting at the bottom of the stairs at the villa's front door. She smiled up at them as they passed and joined them, dusting off her backside as she stood. She ruffled Alastair's hair as they walked up the stairs to the platform, getting an irritated look from the boy.

Once they reached the two crates on the platform, Sandra pointed at the smaller, longer one, 'That one's from me."

Alastair walked to the box and crouched down, thin fingers fumbling with the lock for a few moments before getting it unlocked. He tossed the lock aside and lifted the large lit, revealing that the interior of the crate was lined with plush, dark blue fabric. Resting in the middle of the box and running most of its length was a long sword. The modern appearance of it contrasted greatly with the old-fashioned feeling the box gave off, and Alastair withdrew it from the box carefully.

The black and silver hilt felt slightly cumbersome as he held it in his right hand. He gripped the matching sheath, being careful of the spike-shaped crossguard, and pulled the sword free. It was a modified katana, the blade notched just slightly after the crossguard before smoothing. The spine of the blade was straight, unlike that of a traditional katana. The blade itself was what entranced Alastair the most. It was as a strange steel alloy, a soft, dull silver that shimmered as he held it.

"This is incredible," Alastair breathed as he held the weapon carefully. Sandra came forward to stand next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she crouched slightly to kiss his cheek.

"It was Hector's. He left that with me a week before his disappearance. He said that he wanted to you have it, something to remember your blood father by," Sandra explained as she brushed her fingers through Alastair's long black locks, sadness dancing in her emerald orbs.

"So this is your last keepsake from him?" Sandra expected the question from her son, wiping his bangs away from his eyes. The eyes that matched Hector's. "Does it have a name?"

"No, it's _your_ keepsake of him. And when he wielded it, he called it 'Tempest'," Sandra smiled. "And you remind me of him, more and more every time I see you."

"Thank you, Mom," Alastair said, hugging his mother tightly and burying his face against her.

Sandra smiled as she continued to stroke his hair, noting how the boy had still not put down the sword that was came up to his shoulder, "You're welcome. The large crate appears to be from Tristan. Though, I don't know what he would send you."

Alastair's electric blue eyes trailed from his mother to the large crate that loomed just a few feet away. His smile shrunk into a flat line across his face, as he walked over to the large crate. Tempest's sheath was still clutched tightly in Alastair's left hand as he used his right to pop off the lock on the larger crate.

The front panel of the crate fell forward, revealing a dull gray machine with a vaguely humanoid shape. It was strapped securely to the back of the crate, while another smaller package sat at its feet. Alastair picked up the small package, opening it to find a letter inside.

_'Alastair,_

_This is the model AKS-One-Two-Zero combat android. Since you bear that bastard's blood and not that of a Wintergale, I have no expectations of you to be a true Hunter. You will learn the ins and outs of this model and will be sent parts to replicate it. If it seems you can complete this simple task that we have machines doing currently, I will give you the privilege of working in one of our factories as a minor engineer, as I said when last we spoke._

_Signed,_

_Tristan Wintergale."_

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Sandra spoke as she finished reading the letter over Alastair's shoulder. The boy stood stock still after finishing the letter, his hand holding it loosely as his left gripped the sheath of Tempest tighter.

"It's okay, Mom," he finally spoke after almost a full minute. His voice was distant again, as it had been during his isolation. "I'm just going to have to disappoint him some more," he said, a new edge of determination in his voice as he crushed the letter in his hand.

_**March 22nd, 449 A.G.**_

Tristan Wintergale sat in his office at the Wintergale Technologies main office. It was a lavish room, hued in many shades of gray and blue. He leaned back in his expensive office chair, staring at the items on his mahogany desk with disdain. The years had been kind to the head of the Wintergale Family, the only great sign of his aging being the gray in his hair that now matched his business suit. Though the years had been kind to him, it did not stop the dark glare from tarnishing his face with heavy creases and hard eyes.

On his desk sat the heads of five AKS-130 Combat Androids, or rather what was left of them. It had arrived just moments ago, sent from the villa where he had tucked away his family's greatest disgrace and his wife's favorite charity case. It had come as a great surprise, as he dumped out the broken parts and charred wires onto his desk, to see that the five newest top-of-the-line androids he had sent the boy to study had come back in shattered pieces. What had him truly infuriated at the moment, was not the damaged state of his very expensive robots, but the note that fell out along with the damaged machinery.

_"Oops, they're broken. Thanks for the toy soldiers, Tristan, they helped me impress Professor Ozpin. I'll be leaving this little villa in the summer to go to the Academy. Don't bother trying to move me or drug me, we both remember what Amora and I did to the last goons you sent. Professor Ozpin will be sending a Bullhead here to pick me up, and he knows what you've done._

_Amora is going to stay with Mom._

_With me luck, you pissy old fart,_

_Alastair **Wintergale….**"_

Tristan growled in rage as he read the note again, flipping his desk over as he rose from the chair. Somehow the damn boy had gotten into contact with Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon, and the brat had the audacity to destroy his androids! The audacity to send this note! And the audacity to use his family's name.

When the janitorial staff had found the office that early morning, it had been in tatters…

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><p>The corner of Alastair's mouth curled in a silent smirk as he remembered Tristan Wintergale's reaction to his provoking little note. He absently spun Tempest's Edge in his right hand, flinging off the blood of Grimm still clinging to it.<p>

"Alastair, do you copy?" Leon's stern voice cut through the earpiece, suddenly so loud it made Alastair wince.

"What? Yeah, I'm here," Alastair said, peering around the clearing he stood in. All around him the bodies of Grimm lay in pieces. Several Ursai cut to ribbons, countless Beowolves chopped into tiny bits. There was even a King Tajitsu, slashed neatly in half where the light and dark sides met and riddled with dozens of lacerations.

"We've been calling for five minutes. What have you been doing," Leon questioned over the comm-line. Alastair almost shrugged, before remembering that it would have been useless. He was barely out from beneath the heavy canopy of trees, so no doubt Kazue was having plenty of trouble trying to spot him.

"Sorry, Leon. Just lost in a few memories. The forest always brings a few back. Like the first time we met as Hunters instead of just as teenagers," Alastair chuckled as he scanned the edges of the treeline, fetching his Scroll from his pocket. His Aura was almost in the red from so much use, and he still had to watch over the first years.

"I remember that day. Glad you finally learned to relax, but how about staying in communication? Abel was about to fly over to make sure you were still alive," Leon's deep tones boomed across the comm-line as the armored warrior chuckled miles back at his place on the cliffs. "ETA?"

"I'm fine, if not a little tired. I'm only coming halfway back. I'll stay down here with the newbies," Alastair responded as he began walking at a casual pace back towards the cliffs of Beacon. His left hand dropped his Scroll back into his pants pocket, while his right comfortably held Tempest's Edge to his side and angled towards the ground. His left hand absently slipped into his coat pocket, extracting a tube of round candies. The gray swordsman flicked one of the treats into his mouth as he walked.

His childhood may have not been pleasant. It might have been Hell by many people's standards. But that wasn't going to stop him from living in the moment now and doing himself, his mother, and his lost blood-father proud by being the best Hunter he could be. That was the goal he'd set for himself on his twelfth birthday, to defy all pre-made plans for him and just do what he wanted with his life.

"Damn, that's sour!" he cursed with a laugh as he bit into the candy.

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><p><strong>And we're back. Whoooo shit, that was a big one. I hope you all liked it. I know this chapter is really long, and actually feels a little rushed, and I apologize for that. But what I'm doing as I reveal the backstories of Team BLWK is showing the main events in their lives that made them who they are today. It just so happens that in Alastair's case, it was the majority of his childhood. <strong>

**I had actually had it suggested to me a few times by Puppeteer to divide it into two chapters, but I couldn't find a decent way to make Alastair go into another flashback to cover the second half of his youth. So instead you get a giant monster of a chapter.**

**I've learned my mistake about deadlines, though. From now on, A Wall Against the Dark will be posted as regularly as I am able. No more breaking all these promises for me. **

**On the other hand I've got a little request for you guys, as a fun thing to try: Puppeteer and I have been tossing around the idea of an Ask BLWK And REPR fic. Not that title obviously because that's rubbish, but you get the point. This is obviously inspired by Ask RWBY Characters by otakuroy. If you haven't read the fic check it out, it's pretty funny. At the same time, I had an idea of dragging BLWK, REPR, RWBY and JNPR out to a karaoke place as a fun little side project to make them sing songs that relate to them. However I've scrapped this idea as I've heard fanfiction is now getting a lot more strict when it comes to putting song lyrics into a fanfic. If any of you guys know the exact details on that, I would love to know. Part of me is saying f!% # it and right it anyways, but I don't want to take the chance of writing this one short project, and it getting my account eradicated. I'm rambling, so I'll just say what's-what: We aren't doing the side project immediately, as we want to develop the characters more to you, the readers, first, but I want you guys to think about some questions you'd like to ask our OC Teams, or even some of the main characters as portrayed through our filters. Again, it's just a fun little idea we had, and no one has to participate if they don't want to.**

**But enough with the long-windedness. This has been Relks The Disturbed, comin' at you LIVE from the WILD WILD WEB!**

**Va-le, my readers, and see you soon!**


	5. Chapter 5: The Examination Begins!

**Gather round, ye lads and lassies. Skim this for awhile! And hearken to me dreadful tale about these teens so wild. Let's all raise our gun-scythes high to Grimm and Mecha gone, and lift our voices in another, ass-kicking song! **

**How's it going folks? Ello? Yeah, I know, no one really reads this far into the story. To the ten or so of you that do, I love you guys! **

**Moping and shenanigans aside. Things have been a bit complex as of late so writing has been difficult. Trying to get finances together enough to move out on my own sometime in the next year or so, trying to eat healthier and get in shape again, and work's been what work is: A Bitch. That being said I'm still going to be giving whatever free time I'm able to scrounge up to start working on this more frequently.**

**On a side note: Puppeteer is currently in a bit of a bind. He's moving houses soon and currently has no reliable internet, and it is unknown of when he will. So, that being said, Team REPR is currently on a short hiatus until we find his ass some Wi-Fi. **

**We work together. He's my bitch.**

**All that aside, on with the show~**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. RWBY was created by the genius Monty Oum and his Allies In Awesome, RoosterTeeth Studios. And that's a good thing, because if I owned it there would be a lot more swearing...<strong>

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><p><strong>January 2nd, 9:00am, 451 A.G.<strong>

As the time arrived for the three teams of first years to make their way to the infamous cliffside to the east of Beacon Academy, one student in particular was growing somewhat anxious. If one could actually see her, it would have been comical. But, as only the muzzle of her sniper rifle bobbing idly out of the greenery of a tree could be seen, it was rather frightening.

Kazue bit her lip as she scanned the cliffs yet again for signs of the first years. It was a full twenty minutes passed the time Leon had given them, and the rabbit Faunus had grown rather impatient. '_When the big guy sets a time, he means it! Where are these brats?!' _she huffed to herself irritably.

The purple and black themed sniper had picked shots off at two miles out for the better part of their prep time in the hour before the first years had been _meant _to arrive. When she had grown weary of doing so and noticed the time, she had hurried back towards the cliff to provide support should it prove necessary. Instead, she got a nice big bowl of 'hurry up and wait!'

"Those brats…." Kazue muttered with hostility as she scanned the horizon one last time, elation soaring through her as she spotted a blindingly red cloaked girl emerge from the green trees near the edge of the cliff.

"_Ah, there you all are! What kept you?" _Leon's voice carried through her comm-link. The violet-eyed girl swept her small circle of vision to the right, easily spotting the bronze monolith that was her team leader. She zoomed her scope slightly to get a better view, smirking as she noticed the tuft of white that was Abel beneath a tree. '_Of course he made it look like he was asleep.' _she mentally quipped.

As Kazue looked on, the remainder of both Teams RWBY and JNPR arrived. They all seemed in good condition, save the blonde in armor who tripped over his own feet exiting the trees, so why were they late? Worse still, Team REPR was nowhere in sight. A sigh escaped Kazue's pursed lips as she realized she was going to have to wait _longer._

Through Kazue's limited view through her scope, she watched the girl in red awkwardly rub at the back of her head and tilt her face down. Leon's hands went from passively at his sides to what had to be crossed in front of his broad chest, though his back was to Kazue at the moment. She knew that pose all too well.

"_I am waiting on bated breath, Ms. Rose."_

One of the other girls from earlier, a ridiculously well-endowed blonde with a wild mane of hair, moved forwards toward Leon, her body language downright hostile. Kazue caught herself shaking her head, clicking her tongue in disdain. '_Looks like that one might be trouble for dynamics,' _the casual thought drifted through Kazue's mind as Leon's posture straightened to the point of looking painful.

"_Now look here! You will not speak to me in that tone. I gave you a designated time to arrive, and that was not met. You cannot expect me to just let that slide! Transport to missions doesn't wait. A village being attacked by Grimm doesn't get extra time just because you're a little tardy. Punctuality is of utmost importance when you are going to be working in the field!" _Leon's torso leaned forward dangerously towards the blonde, who surprised Kazue by actually backing off a bit.

Even more of a shocker, the Schnee girl that Kazue had been hearing about all semester was actually nodding along with Leon's words. The buxom blonde spun around on the white-haired Heiress, obviously yelling some sort of retort, before Leon's hand sharply cut through the air.

"_Enough." _Even over the comm-line, the dead calm of Leon's voice was positively chilling. "_Why. Were. You. Late? No more distractions."_

The two teams of first years looked to each other as Kazue bit back laughter at the blond "knight" of JNPR looking like he was about to faint from Leon's suddenly intense presence. Words mixed from both teams before the girl in the red cloak turned back to Leon, her words spoke with what appeared to be measured control.

"_What about Team REPR?" _Leon's next question came, his arms crossing again. Kazue rolled her eyes as the back-and-forth droned on. She had been sitting in this damn tree for almost twenty minutes. A particularly sharp piece of bark was digging into her buttocks, and to make it all worse, the Sun was finally getting high enough to start casting shadows around her to force her eyes to adjust to night-vision.

"Can we _please _just hurry this up!" She finally snapped into her comm-link, her voice loud and slightly shrill with irritation. The end result was Leon suddenly shooting his right hand to his matching ear, pulling away the comm-link as Abel jumped up from his place under a tree. Kazue would have laughed, if she wasn't so irate.

And then, as if to end all of Kazue's problems, a blotch of rusty-red topped with crimson emerged from the foliage beyond the first years. Roan Ashworth of Team REPR held aside a branch of a bush as the rest of the team walked out to join the last of the first years. Catching Kazue's interest, however, was the fact that the black-cloaked Vlad was currently being supported by his black-and-blue team leader.

"_What's the matter with Vladimir?" _ the stern baritones of Kazue's leader echoed across the comm-link. Even at this distance, Kazue could see that REPR looked slightly uncomfortable. Kazue bit her lip again as she watched on through the scope, as Natasha seemed to be explaining something to Leon. '_Kid looks pretty haggard. Hope he's good to fight,' _she thought to herself as she noticed the fatigue that seemed to plague that smallest member of Team REPR.

"_I see. In that case, whomever lands with Vladimi- Vlad, please try and help him if he needs it." _Leon's arm swept out as he indicated what had to be the launch pads. Kazue smiled as she remembered her first launch off the cliffs. That had been an interesting day for sure.

"_Yes, Mr. Arc, you will be using the launch pads again. I trust this time you have __a proper landing strategy?" _The blonde knight's head swivelled to his red-headed partner, who seemed to be encouraging him if the hand on his shoulder was anything to go by. It seemed he was the only one with a problem with the entry plan. Even Vladimir, who had seemed exhausted a moment ago, was standing at one of the launch pads.

"_Kazue, do me a favor and keep an eye on Vlad," _Abel's even toned voice came across the comm-line, barely above a whisper. Looking through her scope, Kazue saw that he was back to feigning sleep. An attentive look showed his left wolf-ear twitch slightly as everyone got into position.

"Sure thing, Abel. The kid doesn't look too steady," Kazue agreed, zooming out her scope so she'd be able to track the flying members of Teams RWBY, JNPR and REPR. She cast quick glance at the much smaller silhouette of Leon's towering form, his arms behind his back.

"_Oh, and all of you. Do enjoy this exam." _The cheekiness of Leon's line practically dripped off his voice, as all twelve of the first-years were launched off the cliff simultaneously.

"_Shouldn't you have told them that we riled up all the big 'n' nasties in the woods?" _Alastair's voice spoke up across the comm-line. The gray-swordsman was still deeper in the woods, waiting for the students to land. That didn't stop the slight amusement at the first-years situation from slipping into his voice, though.

Kazue zoomed in her scope again on Leon as the titanic young man stood facing the Emerald Forest, his right fist on his hip as his left hand shaded his eyes while he watched the descending students. A wide grin of pearly white teeth stood out against his bronze and crimson helm.

"_Nah."_

* * *

><p>The ground grew steadily closer as the wind whipped her billowing black hair. Melania's eyes squinted against the wind as her grip tightened on her whip-sword, Mortal Embrace. She forced out a breath of air against the beating wind, a pulse of her Aura releasing the lock mechanism on her custom-made weapon. The glittering shards of steel scattered into the air along the strong, thin cable that bound them all together.<p>

As the trees came into sharper focus around her, Melania channeled her Aura to improve her focus and flicked her right arm quickly across her body. The bladed cable whirled through the air, coiling around the thick trunk of a tree. A single press of a button hidden in the hilt of Mortal Embrace, coupled with a quick fortification of her shoulder with her Aura, and she was slung around the tree in a counter-clockwise circle.

Her trajectory shifted as she rounded the tree, another subtle pulse of her Aura unlocking the blade from around the large oak. She rolled to the side and spun, forcing her breathing as she hit the ground. She rolled ten feet then caught herself. shifting into a crouch. Another small button push, and her sword compacted back down into a traditional blade.

"First things first, find Natasha, Roan or Vlad. I _am not_ putting up with those dysfunctional children on the other teams," Melania spoke to herself as she stood. The dark tempered young woman gave herself a once over to check for any damage, and dusted off her legs. Nothing seemed to be damaged. And better yet, it seemed the flight through the air had shaken the last of the grogginess of the early morning.

"Oh, don't be like that~" an all too familiar voice spoke up from behind Melania. The whip-sword user pivoted on her heels to see none other Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie emerging from the trees she had flown over seconds ago. A pained groan escaped Melania's lips as she subconsciously stomped her foot.

"Fuck!" she spat out, her left hand flying to her mouth a millisecond later. Her eyes narrowed as visions of dozens of arguments replayed through her head. '_Damn it, Roan. You insufferable punk. Your vulgarity is contagious.'_

"Oh, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Yang asked with her signature grin as Nora bounced along behind her. The two approached calmly, or in Nora's case as calmly as possible, much to Melania's growing dread. "Or should I say our crimson-haired, what did Weiss call him, ruffian?"

A sudden heat found its way to Melania's face as she glared at Yang, her posture going rigid, "I would never kiss that raving narcissist!"

Yang's grin somehow grew wider and a giggle escaped from Nora. Melania's eyes narrowed again as she felt a growl of irritation in her throat. The buxom blonde gave a cheeky wink, before the excitable red-head behind her took control of the conversation. Melana didn't even have enough time to react, as the whirlwind that was Nora Valkyrie was upon her.

"Oooh! What kind of weapon was that? Is that a whip that's also a sword? That's fancy! Do you only use it as a weapon or do you play with it too? Does that red-haired boy like to- mmf!" a hand clamped over Nora's mouth as Melania's eyes turned downright hostile.

"Wow, Nora, didn't know you had an adult streak in you," Yang teased as she pulled back her ever cheery friend, a playful smile looming. "Then again, wonder what our friend here's had _in her."_

The statement was so direct, so profoundly perverse, that Melana was given pause. The cogs in her brain, already working overtime to process the deluge of information that was Nora speaking, ground to a halt at Yang's implied obscenities. And then, as the block was shattered by a sudden over-whirring of the internal engines of her brain, rage flooded her mind.

"You disgusting," Melania took a step forward. "Perverted," another step. "Obscene." She was only five feet away from Yang now, who had a mixed look of shock and smugness. "Ditzy, blonde, narcissistic, over-confident," she closed the distance faster now. In a fraction of a second she was in Yang's face, pushing the slightly taller girl back as the words came faster and faster.

"Top-heavy, shameless, deviant!" Melania had Yang backed up against a tree, a dark energy seeming to radiate from the black clad girl's very essence as her green eyes dangerously narrowed. Her whole body tensed as Yang was driven partially up the tree, their faces a mere two inches from each other. This lasted for a split second, before Yang's own lilac orbs burned bright red.

"Top-heavy!? Ditzy!?" She roared, shoving Melania away from her. Her arms came up to her face in her classic boxing stance, Ember Celica at the ready. Melania readied Mortal Embrace, the blade low and pointing up, shining dully in the sunlight creeping through the canopy. A dark green Aura, like that of a caustic miasma, began to slowly spread along Melania and wind its way along the blade of Mortal Embrace, the dull silver blade tainted a faint sickly green as it channeled its master's Aura.

"Stop!" The sudden '_**BOOM!' **_of a pink Dust grenade going off exactly in the middle between them snapped both increasingly hostile girls out of their rage-driven actions. Both looked to the side to see a glaring Nora Valkyrie, Magnhild held in grenade launcher form and directed at both Yang and Melania. The typically cheery girl's eyes were pulled into a glare that didn't seem natural to her face, her lips turned down into a slight frown as Magnhild sweeped first from Melania to Yang.

"Whoa, easy there, Nora," Yang spoke soothingly, her eyes slowly shifting back to their typical lilac as Nora's glare maintained. Yang took a step back, her hands raised to show that she no longer even thought about attacking Melania. After all, there was something much more dangerous holding her attention now.

Melania's gaze flickered first from Yang, to Magnhild, to Nora. Then back to Magnhild, to Yang, and finally stopping on Nora again. In her brief experience with the pink-loving red-head, she had never seen the girl anywhere near this serious. And judging by Yang's downright terrified response… Melania hurriedly stood and moved her sword so it was no longer directed at either Yang or Nora.

"Good," Nora spoke simply, smiling brightly at the two scared girls. "Now hug and make up." Lilac and dark green orbs shot wide open, looking first at each other and then back at Nora. Yang's posture dropped drastically in pure surprise. Melania, ever the sweetest girl, was tensed like a spring as her hold on Mortal Embrace's hilt tightened so harshly that her knuckles went stark white.

"Excuse me!?" Melania bellowed, eyes now locked on Nora. "There is no way I'm hugging that deplorable fiend!"

"Nora, please, you gotta be joking, right?" Yang pleaded, her hands held out palm up, imploring Nora to agree to her statement. Anything but hugging Melania. The black-haired girl was a total bitch. The only response they got was Nora shifting Magnhild into its hammer form.

"Okay!" both girls echoed simultaneously, hands shooting up in surrender. With slow, begrudging steps, Melania and Yang moved towards one another. Yang's arms were outstretched far from her body, a look of disgust signifying she couldn't wait to be done with this. Melania on the other hand barely moved her arms away from her body, a pained grimace striking her features as she got within arms reach of Yang.

"Let's just get this over with," the raven-haired girl muttered as she and Yang hugged one another. They shared a mutual expression of pained disgust, quickly pulling apart as soon as they saw Nora was satisfied.

"There," the chipper red-head chimed as she slung Magnhild back to rest against her right shoulder, "Now we're all friends. Right?" The other two nodded swiftly, hugging one another again in fear as they saw a positively murderous glint behind Nora's glittering turquoise eyes. When the pink-skirted hammer-wielder turned away, the two separated instantly again.

"ONWARD!" Nora cheered as she dramatically pointed towards a random direction, marching in that direction with Magnhild bobbing on her shoulder.

Melania and Yang sighed in defeat, sharing a look of resigned despair. They began following after Nora, who was already moving far ahead of them. Both girls felt a small pang of guilt at their actions, the quick glances at each giving this away. With a final huff, Melania decided to go ahead and speak up first.

"Your friend is almost as scary as Natasha," she muttered to Yang, who turned her head quickly to look at Melania. Her blonde eyebrows were lifted in surprise, lilac orbs bright in the morning sun.

"Almost?" Yang said, the slightest touch of fear creeping into her voice. Nora was Yang's friend, make no mistake about that. But when the pink-loving sap chugger got angry, it was downright terrifying. "What could she do that's scarier than Nora?"

"You'd be surprised," Melania mumbled as a small shiver snaked its way up her spine. The silence that followed ushered her to elaborate. "Well, she can make weapons.. like, anything she can think of, pretty much. That gets really scary when she is angry."

"Yikes," Yang shuddered, remembering how intimidating Natasha could be just standing there.

"Yeah…," Melania agreed, before realizing she and Yang were having a conversation that didn't involve yelling or threats. '_Maybe this could work after all...'_

"Look," Melania began, putting her hands in the pockets of her black jeans as she made eye contact with Yang. The blonde brawler stopped, a single golden eyebrow arching in curiosity. "We didn't start things on the...best footing," she sighed, fumbling for her words. After all, socializing wasn't exactly her top priority.

"You can say that again," Yang chuckled, a smirk returning to her face as she saw how awkward Melania was being. "Callin' me a bitch for flirting with your totally not boyfriend, pointing your sword at me, angering Nora and leaving me in the crosshairs…."

"_Anyway," _Melania cut in, eyebrows furrowing as an irritated glare settled on her face before relaxing. "I'm willing to let bygones be bygones if you are. We are going to have to work together for awhile."

Yang's smirk bloomed into a wide grin as she stepped forward, "Alright, deal." She wrapped Melania in one of her patented bear hugs. Melania winced as she felt several sharp pops come from her back, before Yang set her back down.

"But I'm still teasing you about your crush," Yang snickered as Melania shook her arms, mouthing a silent 'Ouch'.

"I do not have a crush!" Melania glared, stamping her foot as a dusting of pink colored her cheeks. "Wait…." she stopped, looking around at the trees and bushes around them. "Where's Nora!?"

* * *

><p>"Uh… Pyrrha," Jaune spoke up as the two walked. Around them towered the green trees of the forest, small animals making their presence known with chittering and chirping. "Thanks for catching me again…." he said, offering the red-haired Amazon a sheepish grin.<p>

Said Amazon smiled at her leader's embarrassment, bringing her right hand up to her face to cover the small giggle that escaped at the memory of Jaune pinned to a tree, by Milo, again. The poor boy had been caught by his pant leg this time, bent forward trying to yank the weapon out of the tree. That, coupled with the fact his pants were yanked halfway off from the javelin hitting the tree, made for quite the sight.

"It was no problem, Jaune," Pyrrha's mirth subsided as she reminded herself where they were. "But, we need to focus on the mission," she reminded, taking Milo and Akouo from her back and holding them at the ready. She kept Milo in its sword form, shield poised at her side in case it was needed.

"Right!" Jaune nodded, quickly fumbling for Crocea Mors as he drew the sword and expanded his shield. "We're supposed to find a big Grimm and kill it to prove what we're capable of, right?"

"That's correct," Pyrrha affirmed, finally putting her head on a swivel as they began to walk. "Though I'm quite sure I don't want a repeat of our Initiation."

"Hehe, yeah.." the blonde knight nervously laughed, before something came to his attention. The birds had stopped chirping. The insects no longer chittering. '_Oh crap!' _his mind rang out.

"Pyrrha!" he called, too late in warning as a pair of blood red eyes gleamed from behind the crimson-haired Amazon. Pyrrha spun just in time to catch the heavy right paw of an Ursa across the chest. She careened past Jaune and into a tree, impacting with a more than audible thud.

"Uuunn," the Amazon groaned as came free from the tree and landed on the ground.

"Ummmm, Pyrrha!" Jaune squeaked, barely bringing his shield up in time to catch the Ursa's next attack. He grunted as he shoved back the huge paw, swiping at the beast's face as he stepped back. He kept his shield up as Pyrrha had been training him, his sword held parallel to the ground as he prepared for another attack.

The Ursa reared back to strike once more, before a cloud of metal pellets buried themselves in the right half of the monster's masked face. The monster groaned and fell to the side. Half a second later, a streak of black and red followed, slamming into the downed creature's flank. A weak groan escaped the beast as Roan perched atop its back, shotgun aimed at its head.

"Boomstick, Motherfucker! Boom-" the words were cut off as Roan fired his shotgun yet again, this time burying a slug directly into the back of the Ursa's skull. "-stick!"

"Roan!?" Jaune's eyes went wide in surprise, as the ruffian of Team REPR nimbly jumped down from the defeated Ursa. The shotgun toting teen looked up at Jaune with a grin. He was yet again missing the fanciful coat he had worn to the assembly that morning, instead clad only in his more rough-and-tumble attire. Unlike before an extra belt hung around his waist with several large, rectangular black boxes positioned near his hips.

"Heya, blondie!" Roan waved with his left hand, leaning to the side to look at Pyrrha. "Hey, you brought your hot little friend too! She okay?" He added, pointing at Pyrrha's still form.

"Oh, crap!" the bumbling leader of Team JNPR cursed under his breath, rushing to Pyrrha's aid. He propped up his partner's head, being careful not to jostle her too much. He felt for a pulse, sighing in relief when he felt a steady thrum beneath the surface of her throat. The blonde knight frowned as he stared at his partner's admittedly beautiful face.

"Pyrrha? Pyrrha, you need to wake up," Jaune spoke quietly, gently shaking the girl in his arms.

"Hmmm….ugh," Pyrrha's gracefully arched eyebrows furrowed as she came too. A powerful throbbing pounded through her head, and she let out a grunt of pain. Her eyes fluttered open, her first sight being the kind smile of her leader. She leaned up out of Jaune's arms, a hand to her forehead.

"Jaune…? What happened?" she mumbled as she shook her head to clear the fogginess. She closed her eyes and focused, drawing on her Aura to help mend the damage of the attack. The strong red light of her Aura cast a glow on her and Jaune, making the knight's hair glimmer like a embers before a flame.

"An Ursa got the jump on us. It smacked you into a tree," Jaune illuminated as he kept his arm behind Pyrrha to help support her. He turned his head to look at Roan, who leaned against a tree with a casual air about him. "He saved us. Took the thing down in two shots," Jaune added, a small tone of disappointment in his voice that he wasn't able to protect his partner.

"Hey. Don't mention it," Roan waved off the look of gratitude both had on their faces. "We're teammates for awhile, so it's natural."

"Well, thank you anyway, Roan," Pyrrha said as she got to her feet. She dusted herself off, double checking to make sure she wasn't hurt in any other way. The Amazon quickly retrieved her sword and shield, inspecting them for damage as well. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Milo and Akouo were unblemished.

"Guys, we should get moving," Jaune spoke up as soon as he saw Pyrrha was unharmed. "I doubt they consider a single Ursa enough of a kill to complete the Exam."

"Agreed," Pyrrha nodded as she brought her shield and sword up again.

"Sure," Roan shrugged, taking his shotgun in a two-handed grip again. The trio set out again, Roan taking point with his shotgun. The three went North, toward the direction of the old temple where the relics were kept during the Initiation.

* * *

><p>"Hmmm, the belligerent one is with the awkward knight and the accomplished young Huntress," Leon mused to himself as he sat upon a large stone not far from where Abel rested beneath the trees, the borrowed black Scroll expanded in his hands as he used the many small drones to peer about the forests. His strong hands held the device with care, tapping away at it as he examined the different temporary teams that had formed.<p>

"Blake Belladonna, Weiss Schnee and Lie Ren. They are all sound thinkers who analyze before moving, from what the Initiation showed, a good match. Then Vladimir Ebon, Ruby Rose and Natasha Raven… Hopefully Ms. Raven can keep them on task," he muttered under his breath as he flicked the video feed option to change back to one of the drones following Yang, Melania and Nora.

"Oh dear," he chuckled to himself as he recalled the three teens' in-fighting a few minutes ago. "This team is going to have its problems this morning."


	6. Chapter 6: LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

**Alright ladies and gents we've got a spectacle for you here today. It's a limb snapping, jaw-cracking, mask-smashing good time to come, and I hope you all enjoy it.**

**I would also like to directly thank Forever A Cookie for her series of reviews, both critiquing and appraising my work so far. It has been very refreshing to get additional input from my reader-base, and I greatly appreciate it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. It is the property of Monty Oum and Roosterteeth Productions. Because if I did own it, ooohh *chuckles* ooooh boy the FCC would be on my ass all day and night!**

* * *

><p>"<em>So, how are the newbies doing with my little surprises?"<em>

"_They could definitely be doing better. Was that really all you could find?"_

"_You said 'big', boss. 'Big' is what I found."_

Beneath the canopy of the Emerald Forest, the calm reverie of the morning was shattered. Two streaks of color, one blonde and one black, bolted through the trees as the deafening sound of oaks and pines being torn up from the ground roared at their heels. These two poor souls were otherwise known as Yang Xiao Long and Melania Pearl.

"NEW RULE!" Melania shrieked as she leaped over a fallen log. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as she forced her legs to keep moving.

"What?" Yang called back, thrusting both of her arms behind her. The result was Ember Celica releasing a powerful blast from each gauntlet, aiding the blonde brawler's acceleration as yet another great oak tree came crashing down in the two teens' wake.

"**NORA DOESN'T GET TO PLAY WITH A GOD-DAMN DEATHSTALKER**!" Melania's screeching call broadcasted far and wide across the forest. With a flourished swing of Mortal Embrace, she wrapped the bladed wire around a looming branch above her. The torque of her movement combined with the sudden anchoring cast her up into the air, sending her back-flipping through the air as she disengaged her weapon from the branch, her dark form quite a sight as she came careening out of the cover of the forest.

Her body reacted instinctively to her current flight, twisting in the air so as to break her head-over-heels momentum. Tucking her knees, Melania hit the ground fast and hard. A grimace of pain shot across the dark haired girl's face as her Aura absorbed the brunt of the impact. She righted herself as she felt her momentum slow, rolling across the ground and rising in a crouch facing the forest she had just ejected herself from. Mortal Embrace's deadly coil flickered in the light as she activated the winch in the crossguard of the exotic scimitar, bringing the blade back into a single, solid form.

Yang cleared the brush seconds later, sailing through the air from another blast from Ember Celica. She landed with a roll, coming to a stop next to Melania. The blonde brawler flashed a confident grin to her less than pleased companion, bringing her fists up in a boxing stance and facing the forest as well. Any cheeky remarks she may have been ready to make were cut short as the encroaching thunder on their heels caught up with them.

From behind the trees a giant dark silhouette was seen, a foreboding precursor to the massive Deathstalker that burst free from the treeline seconds later. Despite the fear that coursed through their veins, one factor kept them from losing their cool: the fact that Nora Valkyrie was currently sitting atop the monstrous Grimm's tail, Magnhild wrapped around the thick appendage and held in a tight grip by the giggling lunatic.

"Nora! What is wrong with you!?" Melania howled as the titanic demon arachnid set its sights on her and Yang. She subconsciously brought Mortal Embrace closer to her, clutching the weapon with knuckle-whitening intensity as she kept the blade between her and the Deathstalker. Her body quivered as she subdued her nerves, her noxious green Aura slowly encompassing her whole body in a subtle outline.

"Nothing!" giggled the manic hammer-user, the muscles of her arms visibly tensing as the Deathstalker swiped its tail forward in an attempt to dislodge her. It succeeded in that regard, Nora willingly letting go and pivoting in the air to slam Magnhild against the stinger as she passed it. The explosion that followed sent the tail rocking to the Deathstalker's right as Nora backflipped through the air and landed in a clumsy backwards roll across the ground. The pink warmonger came to a stop against Melania's legs, smiling up at the dark green glare leveled at her.

"Don't make that face, Meanie Melly. We can do this," the turquoise eyed red-head grinned as she hopped to her feet. Nora hefted Magnhild around to hold behind her and to her side, while Melania and Yang formed up on her right and left respectively.

"I'll take this moment to inform you, there will be Ashworth-worthy language to respond to that nickname when we aren't about to die," was Melania's only response as the Deathstalker moved in to attack.

* * *

><p>Green leaves and the sepia bark of tree branches shook with mild fervor along the canopy as Roan and Pyrrha continued on their way. Although both shared a hair color, that was the only thing similar between the two. While Pyrrha was in a proper combat form, shield raised slightly in front of her with her sword raised parallel to the ground, Roan had assumed anything but. The nonchalant ruffian had his shotgun, Boomstick, across his shoulders with both hands hanging onto it with languid effort, almost totally relaxed despite the dangerous environment around them.<p>

"Relax, hot stuff, I'm sure he's fine," Roan all but chuckled as Pyrrha's head swiveled to look across the treeline again.

"He was being chased by a Beowolf the last we saw him! How can you be so sure?" Pyrrha retorted in a semi-panicked voice. She spun to look directly at Roan, her eyes slightly widened as the first bit of panic for her partner began to set it. In all honesty, the truth of how she felt about her "fearless" leader was painfully apparent to Roan, but in his opinion she was a bit on the overprotective side in her feelings for Jaune. He gave a sigh as he slung his shotgun around to hold in a proper two-handed grip, cradling the stock in the crook of his elbow.

"Because his eyes weren't afraid, they were determined, Besides, I made sure that Beowolf caught a bit of buck-shot before it got away," Roan explained patiently as he continued walking, motioning with his shoulder for Pyrrha to continue as well.

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_

Roan's eyes went wide as the shrill scream cut through the ambient chirps, chittering and squeaks of the forest, instinctively bringing up his shotgun to his shoulder as he stopped, "Some girl's in trouble!"

"Jaune!" Pyrrha exclaimed, moving in a blur of red and brown past Roan and disappearing into the brush towards the direction the scream came from.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," Roan guffawed, his proper shooting posture gone as he forced himself not laugh. He resumed what his team called his "business face" as quickly as he broke posture, realizing if Jaune screamed like that then things must be bad. Squaring up his shotgun to his shoulder again, the Red of REPR bolted after the Red of JNPR, her tracks blatantly obvious as she tore through the forest to aid her partner.

* * *

><p>The great golden stinger of the Deathstalker slammed into the ground, Melania barely flipping to the right in time to avoid the deadly appendage. A quick glance at her surroundings told her that Yang and Nora had managed to dodge as well, the other two members of her improvised trio scattered in the open field around the Deathstalker. The stinger heaved itself out of the ground and back above its master, the movement pulling Melania back to the task at hand. Since the battle had begun, all they had managed to do was put a few scratches on the armor of the monster's pincers.<p>

"So, any idea how to take this thing down?" Yang bellowed from her place at the far side of the fight from Melania, fifteen feet away from the Deathstalker's right pincer. Said pincer snapped her way as the volume of her voice caught the colossal scorpion's attention. The blonde brawler slung out a sharp right straight while taking a step back, the shotgun blast dissuading the pincer from closing on her as she back-stepped out of the Deathstalker's reach.

A pink explosion to the side of its broad face distracted the Deathstalker from Yang and sent its focus to the grinning Valkyrie holding Magnhild in its grenade launcher form. Grin only growing wider, Nora spun Magnhild in her hands as she converted it into its warhammer state and sprinted at her opponent. She swung the hefty head of Magnhild forward into the ground, pulling the trigger with the resulting explosion launching her above the Deathstalker. Her efforts were cut short as the tree-like tail of the beast swatted her out of the air, sending her earthbound at frightening speeds. A yelp of pain escaped the normally bubbly girl as she collided into the ground with an eruption of dirt signifying her sudden decrease in velocity.

"Nora!" both remaining members of "Team" NMY rushing to their downed comrade's aid. In a surprising show of subconscious teamwork, Melania stepped forward as Yang scooped up the stunned Nora. With a twirl of her arm, Melania cast out Mortal Embrace's long, blade-lined wire and set it around the left pincer of her foe. Her left leg spun out behind her to set her own body into a counter-clockwise spin as she gripped her weapon with both hands and hit the winch control to reel the blade back in. The violent hissing of metal wire against a solid surface was accompanied by wet ripping as nearly three dozen steel fangs tore their way through the softer flesh of the monster.

A primordial roar of agony rang out from the Deathstalker as it recoiled from the damage to its left forelimb, its many legs carrying it away from the three small humans that injured it. The powerful tail brought the stinger to bear against the measly creatures before it. Whatever counted as thought for the colossal insectoid was erased as primitive rage took hold, telling it to destroy that which harmed it.

"Ugh, did someone get the number of that pancake truck?" Nora moaned as her Aura set about mending the damage from her bunt from the giant scorpion's tail. A small laugh escaped Yang, who helped her fully to her feet as Melania backpedaled to their position. Nora noticed with a start that Magnhild lay on the ground several feet away, the looming threat of the incandescent stinger keeping her from retrieving it.

"No truck number, but I might have an idea on how to best this overgrown vermin," Dark green eyes glanced at purple and turquoise, a smirk breaking across Melania's face as Nora and Yang looked at her with interest. "I'm not strong enough to hold the thing back on my own, I know that much, but I can tie it up for a bit with Mortal Embrace. If Nora backs me up in keeping it occupied, you should be able to get some good shots in, Yang."

"Did you just make a pun?" the corner of Yang's mouth curled upwards in amusement, a glare from her whip-using frenemy setting her mouth level again.

"Can you do it or not, Xiao Long?" the sharp words seemed much more natural as they poured over Melania's lips, the Deathstalker slowly regaining confidence and beginning to advance on them once more.

"Yeah, sure, but how is Nora gonna help without her weapon?" came Yang's comment, slightly off-put by the return of Melania's trademark hostility. Her hands went to her side as she tilted her torso forward, glaring at the slightly shorter girl on a level plane.

Not even sparing Yang a glance, Melania lashed out with her arm, sending Mortal Embrace's wired blade soaring once more. A subtle flick of the wrist, and the unorthodox blade's trajectory changed to send it wrapping around Magnhild just below of the massive hammer head. A pivoting step back combined with a sharp tug from her shoulder and elbow, and Magnhild was sailing through the air towards the trio. With a final flourish of her right hand and a tap of the winch control, Mortal Embrace released the weapon to fall right into its master's waiting hands.

"Alright! I've got Magnhild back, now let's smash a bug!" The grin that overtook Nora's face could have frightened an Ursa, and the two that spread to match on Melania and Yang should have been the Deathstalker's first warning.

Three war cries echoed throughout the vast field as the trio of young women threw caution to the wind and charged. Their enemy struck out with a swipe of its right pincer, Yang bounding to the left to avoid it as Melania slid beneath the attack and Nora spun Magnhild to help her leap over it. The massive scorpion hissed at them as Mortal Embrace was released and Melania sprawled backwards on her knees along the ground to lose her momentum, flipping her center of gravity and launching herself over the damaged left pincer with a surge of her Aura. The result put Melania on the left flank of the Deathstalker with Mortal Embrace looped gracefully around the already damaged main joint of the limb.

Nora didn't give the creature an inch as she jumped up onto the enwrapped claw, pulling back Magnhild and hitting the incoming stinger to her left with a batting swing accentuated by a wonderful _ka-boom. _The tail swung wide as it tried to compensate for the heavy impact, passing clear over Yang's head as she moved in and delivered a series of rapid punches into the front-most right leg, each boosted with a shotgun blast from Ember Celica.

A chorus of angry clicks came from the Deathstalker as it was forced to lean to the right when its front leg gave out from the damage. Melania took her chance as the left-side legs stretched to balance the weight of its body, sprinting up one of the legs and jumping at the tail with more of Mortal Embrace's bladed wire trailing behind her. The dark-haired girl pivoted in the air and wrapped her legs around the thinner part of the tail near the tip, throwing her weight to one side to send her in a quick double loop around the root of the stinger and wrapping the metal wire snug to the flesh.

"Now!" Melania yelled at the top of her lungs, moving into a crouch on the back of the Deathstalker's tail and gripping Mortal Embrace with both hands. She pressed the winch retract button, muscles straining to keep hold of the hilt as she flooded her body with Aura to help with the strain. A loud whine came from the winch engine as it struggled against the stout joints of the Deathstalker's left pincer and tail. Her cheeks began to flush bright red and her body shook with the effort as she heaved with all her might to immobilize the limbs.

Thankfully, Melania was not alone in her efforts. As the left pincer and tail were pulled out of the action for a moment, Nora moved in. With a whoop of triumph she flipped forward and struck down into the Deathstalker's many-eyed face with the combined power of her body and weapons' weights along with the extra force from the detonation of a grenade. The impact of the blow sent the Deathstalker reeling, dizzied and shaken, while Nora jumped back to the incapacitated left pincer and then onto the tail, tucking Magnhild into its grenade launcher form on her back. The pink-clad Valkyrie took hold of Mortal Embrace as well as soon as her hands were free, increasing the force of leverage on the limbs even further.

The limbs finally gave way against the unrelenting pressure from two very fit Huntresses-in-Training and one adamantly working winch, being pulled towards each other. The screaming of the winch lessened slightly as the chain slowly began to tighten even further around the limbs, Tainted flesh began to give way as the bladed wire spun and sawed its way deep into the limb. Vile dark ichor leaked from the joint of the pincer, the double loops shredding through the base of the stinger and severing it entirely. With the second anchor point gone, Melania gave a pulse of her Aura down the length of the wire and released the hook binding it to the armored plating of the pincer.

"My turn!" One could hear the grin in Yang's voice as she vaulted over the unmoving right pincer of the wounded monstrosity. Pulling both arms back, she sent herself plunging at the severely wounded joint of the left pincer. A laugh of triumph escaped the buxom blonde as the double blast of buck-shot tore through what little was left holding the pincer to the Deathstalker, the limb hitting the ground with a loud crash.

The Deathstalker chittered weakly as its remaining legs gave way beneath it, the accumulated damage taking its toll. Melania and Nora jumped from the tail onto the back of the Grimm. The many-toothed wire of Mortal Embrace whirled about through the air as the winch worked in overdrive to finally complete its task, the blade reforming rapidly as Melania held her weapon out to her side. She spun it to aim the point of the blade down at one of the gleaming orange eyes of her nearly dead enemy, while Nora pulled back her massive warhammer. A blade deep into the eye and a slam from a warhammer later and this Deathstalker was no more.

Melania fell onto her backside atop the giant bone plate on the dead Grimm's back, panting from her exertions. Her whole body ached from trying to out-brawn a monster more than five times her size. Not to mention the repairs she would no doubt have to do to Mortal Embrace that night, if the screeches of the winch earlier were any indication.

"Well, they wanted a big kill," Yang shrugged as she sat down on the edge of the right pincer. "I'd say this counts."

"Told you everything would work out, Melly!" Nora cheered, jumping into Melania and squeezing the life out of the poor girl in a powerful bear hug.

"Oh, don't think I forgot about you!" was Melania's positively toxic reply, the sound of Yang's laughter drowned out by cursing so profoundly vivid a sailor would have blushed.

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><p>"Heeeeeeelp!"<p>

"Jaune, we're here!" Pyrrha burst out of the brush of the Emerald Forest, Roan right behind. For the past fifteen minutes they had been running in the direction of Jaune's panicked screams. As the screams had grown louder and clearer, Pyrrha's worry had only seemed to increase. It was now made readily apparent why.

Just past the very brush they had cleared was the carcass of the Beowolf that had been chasing Jaune, its head cleanly removed from its shoulders by an obvious sword cut. Lying not far from the body was the sword and shield combination that was Crocea Mors, Pyrrha's heart skipping a beat as she realized the weapon had been separated from its owner.

Roan's slack-jawed expression was what drew Pyrrha's attention up from the dead Grimm. Above them stretched strand after strand, weave after weave, of silky white thread. Tightly wrapped mounds appeared here and there along the thread, bound so as not even the slightest movement was possible. Out of the top of one of these mounds poked a blonde head with bright blue eyes.

"Guys! Help!" Jaune's girlish scream for assistance managed to make it down to them. The poor boy was wrapped from feet to shoulders in the thick white silk, pinned to a mass of thread all around him. A mass of thread that Roan and Pyrrha realized was an enormous spider's web.

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><p><strong>And there you have it folks! Part 1 of the confrontation stage of the infamous Exam. As for why I chose a Deathstalker, it just seemed like a decently problematic fight for our Blonde Brawler, Pink Valkyrie, and Hostile Reaper. It presented enough of a challenge to get them to work together, without being so difficult as to nearly kill them.<strong>

**Also, if Pyrrha seems a bit OOC in this chapter, I apologize. I was wanting to high-light just how much she cares about Jaune through an increasingly panicked worry, and I kinda feel like by the end of it she was a bit overplayed, but that's the only way I could conceive this coming out.**

**Another note: This was initially written after a day of no sleep, so if you see any major errors that I overlooked while proof-reading, please feel free to point them out. Puppeteer and I had both spent the majority of the evening on XBOX LIVE BSing with our friends, then decided to meet up, grab food and life-revitalizing beverages, and then spent the majority of the following day writing. So again, if something seems out of place or messed up, please let me know.**

**And with that,**

**I bid you "Vale" (Va-le), my dear readers.**

**P.S. Cookies to anyone who gets the reference there ^^^^**


	7. Chapter 7: Itsy Bitsy Boom

**Here we are with th****e next chapter. First off I'd like to thank roosterteethfanatic for adding this piece to the Best of RWBY Fanfiction community. It's a big help in getting this story out to the readers, who I hope enjoy it. Secondly, both Puppeteer and myself have begun working out a proper update schedule. We don't have anything concrete yet, but we will be sure to update everyone as soon as we have a dedicated schedule.**

**And lastly I'd like to thank everyone, both old and new, for reading this OC story that most people would just skim past.**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or its characters. It is the marvelous product of Monty Oum and the guys and gals at RoosterTeeth. Keep up the awesome work, guys!<strong>

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><p>"Guys, get me down from here!" Jaune pleaded from within his silky prison. The webs around him thrummed as he squirmed under the tight binds. Panicked sweat dripped down his face as his eyes went wide, seeing Roan actually holding Pyrrha back from coming to him.<p>

"Pyrrha, you can't touch the web!" Roan groaned from exertion. His left arm was wrapped tightly around Pyrrha's waist, preventing the Amazon from rushing to her leader's aid. Pyrrha's eyes flickered into a brief glare as she cast them at Roan, emerald orbs narrowing. Roan's own crimson eyes met her gaze, giving a look urging her to listen.

"Jaune, stop moving! Moving just sends vibrations down the web. That's how spiders know their prey is still alive or that something has gotten stuck in it," Roan told Jaune as he released Pyrrha's waist. The frightened team leader immediately did as he was told, not wanting to bring back the Grimm that had bound him in the first place. Fear still dwelt in Jaune's cerulean eyes, but a small grin from Roan helped to settle the blonde knight's nerves.

"What are we gonna do?" Jaune asked from his place on high, doing his absolute best not to move. It wasn't the easiest task, when he had the almost overwhelming urge to thrash his way out of his prison. The view of more than a dozen similarly ensnared creatures, most of them large Grimm, suspended in the webs that laced the canopy didn't help the fact. The "fearless leader" of JNPR swallowed a lump in his throat and felt sweat bead down his brow as he looked down at his partner and Roan.

Roan stood there with his shotgun cradled in his arms for a moment, a contemplative look upon his face. His crimson eyes went to Jaune, then the other trapped creatures that were mostly already dead, then back to the myriad webs all above them. An idea slowly took root, and the noble ruffian's face split with a broad grin. He held his shotgun in his right hand as he stepped over to one of the nearby cocoons to examine it.

"I've got an idea. I'm going to go a ways that way," he began, pointing to the east from where they were, "and then I'm going to disturb the web. It should give you a big enough window to cut Jaune down and get him out of that web sack. Then you two can come back me up. Sound good?"

"But we don't know how many of these spiders there are, or how big they are," Pyrrha spoke up, her brow creasing with concern as she fixed her gaze on Roan. "Are you sure you want to take that big of a risk. If we cut Jaune down right now then we all can fight as one."

"And pull all the Grimm right here while you are trying to get me out of this," Jaune chimed from above them. Pyrrha's emerald eyes moved to lock with those of her leader, and she was surprised to find a sense of resolve instead of his usual nervousness. Roan grinned even broader as Jaune agreed with him, taking his shotgun back in both hands.

"That settles it then. See you guys in a few!" the shotgunner laughed before he bolted into the trees. Pyrrha did as he had said and retreated into the cover provided by the bushes. She had to move far into the branches so her vivid red hair wasn't visible, her bright red locks looking almost like flowers blooming within the bush.

Jaune took a calming breath as he focused on not moving. Next thing he knew, he felt a thrum of vibration move through the webs. First one, and then another. And then a sudden force radiated through the webs. The entire canopy shook as if in the middle of a storm, threads snapping as many webbed bundles including Jaune's fell to the ground. Pyrrha's eyes widened dramatically as she saw what Roan's idea of "getting their attention" was.

Large shadows, moving quickly and with jerky motions, sped across the webs above. A staccato of loud clicks and chitters rained down as the shadows sped off. A slow, pregnant silence fell as Pyrrha held her breath, before a shotgun blast destroyed it followed by far off cursing.

"Come get some you overgrown fly munchers!" Another shotgun blast punctuated the loud remark, and gave Pyrrha the jolt she needed to move into action. The Huntress-in-Training hurried from her hiding place in the bushes to Jaune's side, the blonde groaning quietly into the dirt after the impact. Switching Miló into its sword form, she made quick work of the webbing binding the young Arc.

"Th-thanks, Pyrrha," Jaune panted slightly as he took his first deep breath in several minutes, feeling relief as his Aura went about healing the mild damage being bound so tightly could do to a human. Pyrrha smiled at him as he hurried to his feet and retrieved Crocea Mors. With his sword and shield back in hand, Jaune regained a measure of the confidence he'd been showing since he began his training with Pyrrha.

"Of course, Jaune. We should go to Roan," Pyrrha said, ever-helpful to her cherished leader as they hurried after Roan. Gunshots rang out from beyond the trees as they closed the distance, both sword and shield users taking a matching stance as they pushed through one last thicket of branches. To their surprise, a spider Grimm about the size of a full grown man flew into the tree on their right. A neat cluster of craters in the eight-eyed bone mask ventilated its face.

Roan stood in the middle of a small clearing, ten more of the spider Grimm surrounding him and chittering angrily. All of them were the same size as the dead one next to Pyrrha and Jaune, who looked at the scene with no small bit of awe. Around the edges of the clearing were several more corpses of the spider Grimm, all of them suffering from the same fatal shot to the face.

"About time you showed up!" the red-headed ruffian barked, jumping to the right as one of the Grimm pounced at him. "Little son of a bitch!" The curse was accompanied by a shotgun blast to the creature's side, crippling its left flank. A follow-up blast to the side of the head finished the job.

Jaune and Pyrrha immediately jumped into the fray, keeping close as they watched each others' backs. The two formed up back to back, as they had discussed and practiced on their secluded rooftop, Jaune slapping the flat of his sword against his shield to draw the attention of several of the spider Grimm.

"Anansi like to pounce, and then bite to attack! Don't let them pin you down! They have very toxic venom!" Roan called from his place twenty feet away as he got his back against a tree. A sort of tranquil anger dwelt behind his noble features, as three more Anansi dropped down from the webbed canopy to block him from joining his comrades.

The three bared their fangs at Roan with unbridled hostility, sending a minor chill up the Huntsman-in-Training's spine as he swallowed a lump in his throat. Dark venom dripped from the sharp appendages, and the statistics of what it could do to someone's body flashed through Roan's mind. One bite's worth of venom would paralyze a victim, two bites would begin the decaying process that liquefied the insides of the victim's body, and three bites in a short amount of time would poison the body to the point of total organ failure in seconds, with or without Aura.

"Roan!" The JNPR duo called from their position when they saw the situation he was in. Jaune just barely managed to bring up his shield in time to block the pounce of one Anansi, his right arm swinging upwards in a diagonal path that severed all four legs on its left side. Pyrrha responded to another attack in a similar fashion, catching the head of the Anansi that attacked her with one of the gaps in the edge of her shield and stabbing it cleanly through the face. The mob around them hissed, but back to back they were a force to be reckoned with.

'_At least they can hold their own when they both pay attention,' _Roan thought drily. The threat of the bore of his shotgun had kept the three Anansi in front of him from attacking, but it didn't look like that was going to stop them much longer. '_Only got two shells left… Man, I didn't want to have to use it on my first day in public. Takes all the grandeur out of it...'_

The Anansi didn't give him a chance to finish his internal debate. Two of them reared back and pounced, hissing violently as they launched themselves forward. Roan brought his shotgun to bear on the one closest, a cloud of steel pellets throwing it back away from him. The second covered the distance before Roan could take aim again, so instead it caught a snap kick from Roan's right boot. The force behind the steel-toed kick cracked the mask of the Anansi and actually popped one of its eyes. A second cloud of steel ended its life as well.

The third Anansi didn't give Roan a chance to fight back. As Roan's left hand instinctively reached for one of the black boxes on his left hip, the giant spider launched itself at Roan. It impacted hard with him, carrying him off his feet. He was barely able to bring up Boomstick in time to prevent a fatal bite to the throat, using the length of the weapon like a bar to hold back the snapping mandibles of the Anansi.

With a low growl, Roan kicked the ground with his left foot to give himself leverage to propel him and the Anansi on top of him backwards. The maneuver set them in a heels-over-head roll that left Roan on top of the giant spider's abdomen. He pressed his left forearm lengthwise along the gun, leaning against it to pin down the monster as he placed his right hand on the black, carapaced flesh of the Anansi's belly. Roan's eyes flared with bloody light as his red Aura covered his body, the shining energy shifting down his right arm. A loud, erratic buzz came from the limb, as the Anansi beneath him began thrashing violently and screeching its agony.

Thick viscous ichor began to spurt from the monster's joints and mouth, its eyes erupting with a wet pop as the convulsions grew worse and a series of snaps signalled the end of the Anansi's life. Roan rose from the dead monster and shook his hand to fling off the dark ichor that clung to his fingers. His eyes continued to glow brightly as he saw Jaune and Pyrrha dispatch three more of the Anansi.

Roan let a grin spread across his face as he swung Boomstick in front of him, his hand floating down the length of the weapon to grip the pump-grip in his right hand. His thumb flicked a small control, and the weapon shifted. The barrel collapsed inwards as the ammo tube condensed down into the barrel, the breech and chamber of the shotgun rearranged themselves to accommodate the change as the top half of the stock split and slid down to reveal an angled metal piece, which fanned out into a mass of small tooth-like blades that settled into the shape of a circular saw blade. A pulse of his Aura activated the micro-engine concealed in the stock, and the blades spun to life with a hellish screech.

"Let's get this party started!" he laughed over the loud drone of his weapon, slinging it out to his side as he sprinted at the growing mass of Anansi that had collected around the still-fighting forms of Jaune and Pyrrha. As he met the growing horde of monsters, he slid out his left leg to pivot his momentum into a counter-clockwise spin, swinging Boomstick in a hard horizontal slash. The sound of shattering carapace and violently rent flesh almost seemed to echo through the clearing as the spinning saw blade of Roan's weapon cleaved through an Anansi's rear-most left leg, catching on the top of its abdomen and dragging through all the way out of its mask. More dark ichor sprayed in a curved splatter across the ground as Boomstick's saw came free, Roan's inertia carrying him into an upwards slash into another Anansi that split open the monster arachnid's belly and severed two of its legs. Roan let the upward force of his swing raise him on his feet, jumping with the momentum to flip over the dying Anansi and come down on another one of its kind with a downward slash that buried the saw blade deep in the creature's back.

'_Note to self,' _Jaune internally mused as he brought his shield out to the left and bashed an attacking Anansi, following up with a thrust to into the center of its eight eyes to end it. '_Never, ever, make that curse-happy noble upset.'_

A stomp to the back of the head and a sharp tug freed Roan's weapon from the dead Anansi's body, a splash of dark insides shooting across the grasses. The combination of dark ichor splashed on Roan's clothing combined with his glowing eyes and broad grin gave him an almost unhinged appearance, as he hopped off the Anansi with casual grace and swung Boomstick in a half-circle to back away the remaining enemies. Of the number that had attacked, easily two dozen, only four remained.

"Almost done!" Roan called to his colleagues as he flipped Boomstick in his hands and it shifted back into a shotgun. With quick hands, he snatched one of the black cases off his left hip and brought it to the loading flap in front of the trigger guard. His left index finger pressed a slide-switch that opened the top of the black case to reveal the gleaming brass and dull red casing of a shotgun shell. His thumb rapidly flicked as he backpedalled to stand next to Jaune and Pyrrha, loading a full tube of eight shots in as many seconds. Another quick sleight of hand and the black case was locked onto its mount on his hip.

"So four of them left and three of us, huh?" Jaune murmured quietly as he, Pyrrha and Roan all shifted subconsciously into a three-way back-to-back. The four remaining Anansi hissed malevolently as they skittered in a circle around them, looking for a chance to attack.

"I can take two of them, if you can get the others," Pyrrha spoke as she shifted Miló into its javelin form. The well-maintained blade's edge caught the light filtering through the canopy above, making it shine momentarily. The light flickered across Pyrrha's armor and shield as well, giving her a sparkling visage.

Jaune suppressed the urge to stare at his partner as his gaze fell on her when she spoke, the glimmering armor and vibrant red hair combined with the intensity of her eyes giving her a beautiful yet threatening appearance. He fought the blush that tried to manifest itself on his face, forcing himself to focus on the man-sized spider passing in front of him with a clear urge to rip out his throat.

"We're working as a team, right now. So we need to focus on working together. Roan, you have buckshot loaded, right? How fast can you shoot that thing?" Jaune asked as he feinted a lunge to keep back the Anansi before them.

"I can get off about two shots a second at my fastest, but it won't be my most accurate marksmanship," Roan answered, Boomstick held at his hip and kept on the swivel.

"Alright. In that case, Pyrrha, you take your two out as quick as you can. Roan, I'm going to leave formation to get their attention and take one myself," Jaune elaborated as he narrowed his combat stance to let him move faster. "When I do that, I want the both of you to take out the rest."

"Roger,"Roan barked as his grin returned, shouldering his shotgun and letting out a slow even breath.

"Okay. Be careful, Jaune," Pyrrha affirmed.

"Go!" Jaune's ordered, launching himself forward in a controlled sprint at the Anansi that passed in front of him. He dropped his center of gravity and brought it back up, slamming the flat surface of his shield against the Anansi to back it up onto its hind legs. He followed up with an upward diagonal stab that pierced through most of the Anansi's body and killed it instantly. Behind him he heard a shot from Pyrrha's Miló, the screech of a dying Anansi accompanied by a metallic clang and a second screech echoing after. A shotgun blast came after the second screech, another coming so soon after the first as to almost be confused for the same shot.

When Jaune turned around to see how they all had done, he was welcomed with the sight of Roan and Pyrrha standing amidst the bodies of the dead Grimm. One near Pyrrha still had Miló protruding from its chest while the one near Roan's face was a mass of craters. Between the two of them was one single Anansi with a dent in the side of its skull, clearly from Akoúo's impact, along with another mass of craters demolishing its face.

The three young Hunters-in-training slowly shared a smile as they realized no more Anansi had erupted from the trees. Relief induced laughter as the adrenaline high wore off first came from Jaune, and then from Pyrrha and Roan. The teens all broke down and began laughing even more, Jaune resting against the standing surface of a tree as he felt his heart still racing a mile and minute.

"Ah...hah…. Okay, guys, good teamwork," Jaune sighed as he slid down the length of the tree to rest.

"You did a wonderful job, Jaune," Pyrrha complimented as she walked over to Jaune's side and sat next to him, an absent wave of her hand sending Miló soaring through the air to return to her right hand. Akoúo rested against her folded left leg as she set Miló down between Jaune and herself, both making a conscious effort to relax as they rested.

Roan was the single one of the trio not to take a seat, instead reloading his shotgun back to full capacity. Once this was accomplished, he moved to lean against the same tree the others were sitting at, standing to Jaune's right as he rested his back against the slightly rough bark of the old oak. A small smirk upturned his lips in amusement as he cast his gaze left to view the two near him. He had to keep himself from shaking his head at how Jaune didn't even notice Pyrrha tilted slightly towards him as the two partners took their reprieve beneath the tree.

"And that's our big kill," Roan chuckled.

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><p>Elsewhere in the Emerald Forest, a shade passed amongst the trees and bushes. Dancing among the leaves a phantom walked, pale and yet dim. A white wolf, barely larger in size than an actual wolf, with bright golden eyes. It almost flew through the trees as it searched for its prey. With another swift leap through a bush, it came upon its target.<p>

An heiress clad in white, a girl clad in black with a bow atop her head, and a young man with a livid pink streak in his raven locks. The wolf moved through the brush around them, quiet as death, as he circled around to be in front of the trio. A flicker of movement above the black-clad girl's head caught the wolf's attention, and back at the cliffs near Beacon Academy his body's mouth upturned in a slight smile.

'_Hiding the truth beneath a mere bow? Very clever.'_

His suddenly interrupted as he passed into a thick tree. Darkness overtook his vision as the inside of the tree was devoid and any light, but with sure movements he exited it and returned outside. The advantages and disadvantages of his Semblance always seemed to tilt back and forth across the scale, and it never ceased to amuse him how often he forgot his spirit form's limitations.

Making a conscious effort to step out of the brush just enough to be seen, the white wolf stood before the three, making them suddenly halt.

"What in the world!?" the heiress gasped.


	8. An Apologetic Note

I wish to begin by apologizing. This is not the update that any of you who still follow this dated story were hoping for. This is, I regret to say, it's closure notice. I have recently taken a critical look at my work, and found myself unsatisfied. I have decided that I am capable of providing a higher quality of writing to you, the readers, and I shall endeavor to do so. I also apologize for the incredibly long delay in updates that came about, and led to, the eventual death of this project. It was an unfortunate by-product of life, and while that is no excuse I do still apologize.

But, fear not. Just because I am announcing the cancellation of this story does not mean the death of its parts. I've grown attached to these characters over the past few years and plan on improving them, much as I did their predecessors, to become something worth writing about. I intend to leave the story up, unfinished as it is now, so that any of you who do enjoy it may continue to do so in its limited capacity. A part of me wishes to rewrite this story, free from my co-dependence on Puppeteer of the Realms's own story, and I may yet do so. If you ever find that another update has come about for this piece, it will be the happy announcement of a rewritten, better-planned version of this story.

I am Relks the Disturbed, and I take my leave from A Wall Against the Dark. Though its mortar lay crumbled and shadows spill across the land, it shall be rebuilt... one day.


End file.

RWBY, Adventure, Humor