A/N: An idea inspired by SkireTehFox's drawings, from whom I gained permission to create this story.
Note: Fixed a few plot inconveniences.
Both the sun and moon were shining in four parts of the globe.
The air was clear, filled as it was with the gentle breeze of a spring wind. The birds chirped and flew in circles, high in the sky. The flowers were just about to bloom, their petals splattered with the colors of all, from green to crimson to blue to all shades of the spectrum. The stars had come out in a magnificent fashion, displaying their full beauty to those inclined to observe them.
Under the vast blue and black skies filled with birds and stars, the sins of humanity reaped their rewards.
Trenches and military level fortifications lay in ruin, demonic flames having destroyed their foundations and left scorching remains. The Hellfire of demons consumed all on the battlefield, indiscriminately scorching any enemy combatants with ruthless efficiency.
The sky was filled with the scent of burning flesh as the birds of prey, both vultures and Attack Carriers alike swarmed over the field's airspace. The air was filled with the spring breeze and flames, raining down both wind and incendiary power as the Mistral border was decimated. The Vytalan turning point of the second World War had begun, on the edge of the Mistral region's borders with Vytal.
The one who had perpetrated the entire event was in a crouch, resting slightly to regain her breath after the massacre. With pure black Dust armor coupled with yellow chest and shoulder pads of flame Dust constructed armor, the figure cut an imposing figure with its signature ANBU Wolf mask. Behind them, the fields of battle burned away in an inferno of hellfire.
It was here that she began her tale, where it all began.
This is the story of Yin, The Hellfire Brawler.
A shadow made its way across the rainy roofs of the city of Vale.
Leaping from building to building in incredible feats of acrobatics, the shadow silently moved through the city in an efficient and effective method with as little time used possible, even with the slippery nature of the roofs.
Landing in a crouch on their targeted roof, the figure looked to the floor that the Vacuoan invading force had infiltrated.
As they revealed repelling equipment from their equipment pack, they proceeded to rope down to the target floor, along the glass of the skyscraper's exterior.
Unsheathing a weapon from their back, one could see that is was an intricate design. A Katana paired with a built in Glock 17, as well as its sheath designed for cleaving.
With the figure's enhanced senses as evident from their hidden Faunus heritage, covered by their cat like mask, they locked onto the scent of the employer's targets, having learned of what their signatures were, and prepared to breach the floor of the target's residences...
13 minutes later as a maintenance worker stumbled onto the floor in a drunken haze, he noticed what seemed to be blood trails. Sobering up quite quickly, he came upon a sight of horrendous proportions.
Bodies, each of them cleanly murdered, each with either a slit throat of a punctured heart. Yet, even as the men were positioned to speak to each other, none of them showed a sign of surprise, as if their friends being killed had no effect on them.
The worker screamed in horror, and fled the scene, yelling obscenities, calling for help.
That very same scene, a shadow flitted from the area, returning to a nearby motel.
This is the story of Beast, The Shadow Assassin.
In the personal mirror of an operative's room in the secured base of operations for ANBU, a figure stood garbed in regal white clothes. In the mirror's reflected image, was a figure shrouded in the darkness of an assassin, with a predator mask ever present on their face.
A figure present in the highest classes of economic and political circles.
A figure present in the dirtiest of assassinations ordered by the government.
A figure present at the inauguration of the Vytalan President.
A figure present in the killing of his would be assassins.
A figure present in the public assistance of poor nations.
A figure present in the coordination of killing those poor nations.
This is the story of Winter, The Ice Queen.
On a battlefield of conventional warfare in the nation of Vytal, on a blood soaked field near the city of Vale, a figure garbed in black and red dashed through with speed unseen to the human eye. Blood rose out of their body in spades, utilized as the hardest of blades and the most accurate of firearms. The formed blood shot out, impaling all of the figure's victims in gruesome ways of murder. Decapitations, blunt trauma, entire eviscerations, nothing was too horrifying for the figure of hell that rose from the earth itself.
Soldiers from either side were horrified by the transaction of souls being processed, but neither could they stop fighting. To stop fighting for the allies of the bloody figure, meant deserting their duty as warriors, resulting in death from their own commander tearing through the army. To the enemy, to stop was to to die at the hands of the mysterious killing machine, or so it seemed.
As the opposition collapsed at the appearance of such a terrifying figure, morale for the enemy forces reached a critical point in time in which they turned tail and fled without shame, the basic instinct of survival urging them onwards.
A massive amount of blood was being drawn from the hundreds of motionless bodies strewn about the field, and it all converged upon the figure who was acting commander of the Vytal forces.
In a single motion, a veritable wave of blood streams shot out as a single entity, catching nearly every enemy soldier in their grasp before brutally tearing them apart. Only a few men remained, and they were shellshocked to the point of no response at the tragedy suffered on this field of slaughter.
The figure strode by them and sliced each neck with her personal combat knife as she continued on, while their allies looked on in horrified silence.
Yet even as their figure was covered in the blood of both allies and enemies, the fox masked killer never shed a tear nor let out a single sound.
This is the story of Rose, The Blood Reaper.
4 women, each with a unique mind and skills, brought together for an unlikely purpose. Though they met through the worst of conditions, they formed bonds than that of those who were the closest of sisters.
This is the story of Fire Team RWBY, of the GRIMM Annihilation Squad.