This is based off of an idea from another fic. That fic was unfortunately removed and rewritten with a totally different storyline by the writer, who I talked to later asking for permission to use a similar plot.

Oh, and happy birthday to me! Please see The Closed Diary and the prologue for Dark Descendants.

Note: Some sentences will be in French. I will however be providing translations. Look for the parentheses.

Aiming For Glory

A blonde haired man in silver armor with depictions of yellow double moons rose from his seat in the honorary viewing box. He raised both of his arms in front of his body before swinging his right hand out in the direction of an armored knight, lowering his left arm as he did so.

"And the Winner is… Mr. Clef Verrou!"

The hundreds of spectators in the stands of the massive Nimes Arena, one of the largest of all Remnant, let out a loud roar. Many were pumping their fists in the air, sloshing their drinks about and yelling out their approval to the Arbiter of the match.

The aforementioned warrior, clad in bright silver armor adorned with red pennants of a golden key, bowed to his limping opponent before throwing out his arms and turning full circle, bathing in the adoration of his fans, who let out another round of cheers to the champion.

"This is Mr. Verrou's twentieth win in this competition and his nineteenth in a row. His fighting style is so efficient and powerful he has beaten up to five combatants in two hours." The announcer continued from his seat next to the Arbiter, microphone in hand. "If he wins this next match of his he will have matched the record set in a mistral tournament a few years ago. That record was 20 wins and was set by the celebrity Miss Pyrrha Nikos when she was 14. As we wait for the next opponent, let us relax a bit and see how our audience members are doing."

The large four sided hologram in the center of the arena began showing pictures live from the audience, all of who desperately wished to be seen. The first people shown were what appeared to be a family of three. The wife grabbed hold of her husband's shoulder pointing excitedly towards something out of the shot, obviously the hologram itself. The man lifted up his son by the arms, showing him to the cameras while the boy waved around a replica kite shield with Clef's symbol on it, prompting a mixed round of cheers and laughs.

The picture changed abruptly, showing a group of teenage girls all of who were wearing red and gold clothes. The three of them muttered quickly between themselves before they all lifted up a poster board sign. It read "Dévérouillez Moi Clef Verou! Je t'aime!" (Unlock me Clef Verrou! I love you!) Underneath the text there was a scroll ID number.

"Oh ho!" The announcer cried out as the stands became ripe with laughter, "It seems our current champion has another batch of fangirls after him, let's see his response."

The hologram changed again to show a close up of the warrior's face. He appeared to be in good spirits, a confident smirk on his face. He laughed before pulling out his scroll and typing a couple lines. He raised it in the direction of the camera, reading "L'Hôtel Jardin, chambre 1014. Apportez vos copines. Le souper c'est un cadeau de moi." (Garden Hotel, room 1014. Bring your {Female} friends. {Roughly} Dinner is on me.)

The crowd and announcer let out more laughs at the fighter's response, several letting out implying wolf whistles or hollers.

"Haha. Well, it is now time for the next challenger to enter the ring. From Vale, we have a skilled bounty hunter who specialises in hitting every opponent's weak spot, every time. In fact…" The announcer paused for effect, "it is rumored that he has never missed, never failed to take down his enemy. But he is against the impenetrable wall from Atlas, the man who always keeps his guard locked down and picks open his enemy's strategy. I present Clef Verrou versus Flavus Arcus! The locksmith and the marksman, the tank and the bounty hunter. BEGIN!"

With another cheer from the crowd, the gate under the Arbiter's podium opened and out walked the challenger. He wore a worn pair of jeans and an old form fitting hoodie with the hood up and the strings drawn tight. His face was covered by a pair of goggles of which the right eye had several magnifying lenses on a spinning wheel mounted above it. The man had several pieces of leather armor covering his most vital points as well as finger-less gloves. Over it all he had a black Grimm-skin trench coat that he threw off to show that he wore a pistol holster on each hip and had what appeared to be a folded up rifle in a sheath on his back. Everything on him was covered in dust even though he had only recently entered the sandy arena.

In stark contrast to the ragtag looking hunter was Clef Verrou, the warrior's armor still gleaming in the sunlight despite several fights. The knight grinned before putting on his ornate bassinet covered in lock and keyhole decals, a key's teeth acting as a crest, advancing towards his opponent. The two competitors stopped around ten meters from each other before quickly entering their respective battle stances.

Flavus drew two large pistols from his holsters, one golden clip based with a strangely short and thick handle, the other a matte white revolver with an odd stock-like structure on the back. He settled into a relaxed stance with both his pistols pointing to the sides of his enemy.

Clef Verrou drew a large red axe with a blade similar to an old key from a scabbard on his back before snapping his left wrist in a downward motion. At the sudden jolt his gauntlet shifted to a massive tower shield emblazoned with a lock and key coat of arms. He held himself in a defensive stance comprising of holding his shield directly in front of him and his sword held at the ready to his right.

"I would like to remind the duellers that this IS a timed match and in ten minutes the arbiter will decide a winner." The announcer called out.

"It's fine" Flavus said with a bored tone, "I'll be done in sixty seconds."

"Funny thing," Called over Clef, "I was about to say the same."

And with that, they clashed.

"Flavus"

As Flavus walked into the arena, he could feel the man's stare drilling into the back of his head.

'My target. But first I have to deal with this guy.'

He pulled out his trusty pistols, Flavi and Mortem.

'I know that I could finish this even faster if I used Duo Luna but hey, it's a tournament why not give them something more entertaining than simply shooting someone in the head.' The bounty hunter laughed to himself, 'The guy I'm up against has a fricken key as a weapon. I wonder if he uses it because his name is Key Lock or simply because it's an ancestral weapon like the one I'm here to get.'

He shrugged to himself; it didn't matter.

The announcer cleared out his throat before calling out to Flavus and the current champion through his mic: "I would like to remind the duellers that this IS a timed match and in ten minutes the arbiter will decide a winner."

The marksman snorted to himself; the announcer had already said "begin" but hadn't even started the clock yet.

'Such an amateur. I guess I'll act cocky, try and get this imbecile to mess up.'

"It's fine, I'll be done in sixty seconds." Flavus calls out, cracking a joke to himself, 'That's what she said.'

The champion seemed to let out a laugh, but it was hard to tell due to all of his armor.

'Man, how does he even walk wearing all that?'

"Funny thing," He shouts back, his smirk easily visible.

'How I want to smack it off his face.'

"I was about to say the same."

The tank suddenly charged towards the smaller fighter, his shield still held high. But it was Flavus' turn to smirk; with his shield up the champion was obscuring his own vision.

'Lucky me.'

The bounty hunter waited patiently, not moving a single centimetre until the last second possible before impact.

'… Now!'

He spun, pivoting on his right leg, avoiding the shield bash easily.

Flavus whistled to himself,' He may have power but this guy has no sense of mobility in battle.'

The marksman continued to spin, time seeming to slow down. Spinning Flavi in his hand as he came around, the clip based hand canon shifted into its alternate form: a thirteen inch long knife, the small front guard comprising of the handle and clip while the barrel of the gun ended up where the pommel would be on a sword. Holding Flavi in a reverse grip in his left hand, he slammed it into his opponents back, testing out his armor.

"Well, s**t" Flavus cursed as the golden blade merely scraped along the plates, sparks flying. As first strikes go, it wasn't too bad; it had fulfilled its job of analysing the armor.

'But I'm gonna need to do better in the next one.'

Quickly spinning another one eighty to see the knight again, the hunter remembered his old teacher's words; "Never let your opponent out of your sight while he can still do something you don't expect. You must occasionally even abandon logic if you are to understand what a man under fire will do. But, don't always be staring holes in a targets head; people tend to notice that and you also might be leaving your brain open to be atomized by a counter sniper or pasted on a wall by a bodyguard."

'Brutal, not eloquent at all, but he was a good teacher.' Flavus reminisced before quickly refocusing.

Clef turned around, seeming painfully slow to the lightly armored marksman. He raised his bassinet's face plate showing a face that was displaying a certain emotion.

'He seems… indignant, yeah that's the word, that I struck him. Some of the crowd, especially those that are female are also booing me.' Flavus was cracking up at the pampered champion.

"Really?" He yelled out, "It's a tournament, ladies; just because he has a baby face doesn't mean he can hit me and not vice versa."

The crowd simply booed louder.

"Jeez." Flavus mumbled to himself. "Hey! Key guy! You get this reaction from the fans often?"

"They are insulting you, shorty. And I won't be hit again."

"Two things: One, we're the same height, and two, I wouldn't bet on it pal."

Clef slammed his visor shut with a bang before continuing his slow advance.

The hunter then revealed his other weapon, Mortem. With a twist and flick of his wrist, the hilt of the revolver extended to about a foot while the stock shifted to become the head of a lightweight tomahawk, the barrel of the gun shortening to about three inches and situating opposite of the axe head.

At the unexpected mecha-shifting, Clef slowed his, until then, relentless advance, adopting a more cautious approach.

When Flavus didn't do anything else surprising, the current champion spoke up.

"What? No more tricks up your sleeve, peasant?"

Flavus merely grinned again.

"Are you laughing at me knave?"

"Yup."

"W-what?" Spluttered out the champion, unused to such honesty, "I come from a long line of distinguished warriors, generals and heroes; how can you laugh at such a superior being?"

"Oh, this is too great…" The bounty hunter wiped fake tears from his face, still chuckling. "That entire attitude of yours is why I'm better than you. I have met uncountable amounts of people who are better than you could ever hope to be, and some of them grew up on the street. Now then, back to business." Flavus cleared his throat, before enunciating in a clear voice, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

A silent second passed before the bounty hunter sighed, raising his arms in exaggerated exasperation.

"Well, you were supposed to attack me but O.K. I understand you're a little bit en retard."(Late, slow.)

Flavus' left arm cocked backwards to pause for a second before snapping forwards. A single ear-splitting gunshot sounded and Flavi became a shining spear of gold. Clef's shield snapped up from its position at his side in the nick of time to prevent him from being all but impaled by the golden point.

The bright blade met the shield with a resounding "Thunk", a full two inches passing through the protective device to rest quivering a hair's breadth from the champion's tournament helm.

Clef lowered his shield slightly. 'Likely to spot me. Welp, his mistake.' This time the bounty hunter's right hand snapped down with a gunshot, and it was an axe that embedded itself in the square shield to knock the knight back a step. 'Wait for the moment, my apprentice. Hassle them, pick apart their defenses over and over but don't truly strike yet. Wait until they show weakness, whether it be in the form of fear, reluctance, apprehension… Because when you strike then it will take but one stroke. Thank you Maester. Time for that stroke'

The dusty marksman sprinted forwards suddenly, directly towards his opponent. The armor clad warrior moved his shield again in a shield bash, expecting the bounty hunter to rush for his weapons. Flavus ducked suddenly while thrusting his legs forwards, resulting in a slide underneath both the shield's edge and Clef's legs. The champion looked down in surprise, the reaction doubled when Flavus waved.

Once he had passed through, Flavus seamlessly went from slide to leap, diving onto his discarded trench coat and rolling. Spinning with coat in hand he waited for the knight to turn around once more.

'Should'a turned around shield first, dumbass.' Flavus thought to himself as the knight turned to his right, not covering himself with his shield. Clef didn't even get a glimpse of his enemy before black leather covered his vision, the heavy skin putting ever so slightly off balance.

'But just enough…'

The bounty hunter rushed again while his opponent was blinded to yank out his throwing weapons, seemingly with no difficulty. If Clef felt the items removed from his shield then he didn't show it or was preoccupied with clearing his vision. Mortem twisting in his grasp, Flavus hooked the knight's legs out from under him with the axe's head before smashing his enemy's torso into the ground with his left knee. Air was audibly forced out from the knight's lungs as the marksman kneeled down to stab Flavi through his right arm while the left was immobilised under the other knee. Mortem almost lazily reverted back to a revolver to lift up the visor of the champion.

Flavus leaned in close to his opponents strained face, beaded with new sweat. He stretched his lips into a tight lipped smile, only opening his mouth long enough to say a single phrase.

"You lose."

"L-l-ladies a-and g-gentlemen, I present your new… your new… new cha-cha…"

Looking up to the arbiter's booth, Flavus saw the announcer stupidly attempting to stutter out a victory. Beside him the Arbiter himself stood up, blue eyes flashing. The armoured man snatched the microphone from the announcer, pausing only to growl out a barely audible "Craven" through the microphone.

"The match is not over." His head swept side to side, unblinking in its survey of the stunned crowd. "To lose a competitor must not be able to continue." His eyes focused on Flavus who was staring right back from behind his goggles.

"All I see are two children" he spat the word as if it was the worst insult, "playing in the dirt. Let him get up and fight… or finish him."

The crowd broke out of their stupor, a chorus of complaints spreading around the arena.

"Hey, key guy. You know your Arbiter? The guy who supposedly taught you everything?"

The knight groaned.

"He's kind of a jerk."

"Tell me about it."

Flavus stood up slowly, holstering both of his weapons as he did so before throwing his coat back on.

He bent down with hand outstretched to help up the formerly undefeated champion. Clef regarded it warily before accepting, letting out another groan as he stood up. His ornate visor slammed shut as he stretched his back out.

"Merde" he mumbled as he fumbled with it. Meanwhile, Flavus was laughing so hard he'd bent over.

"Dieux seigneur! Laissez-moi vous aider." The bounty hunter cackled as he approached. He grabbed hold of the visor's sides and, with a sharp breath, he wrenched the mesh of metal bands free.

"Merci," Clef panted, "I felt like I was suffocating. And no thanks to my dented chestplate." He licked his lips, "Good job on that by the way. My semblance may be a defensive shield but it can't push that back into place."

"I notice that now you aren't acting all superior. May I inquire?"

"Hah!" Clef chuckled, "My teacher told me to act like that. He says I have the blood of royals and that I should act it. But you can fight. You deserve respect."

Flavus grinned, "Thanks."

'You won't think that in a minute.'

And he was in motion, with a swirl of black leather the marksman was completely behind the knight, all save a single foot hooked around the champion's legs. With a violent tug Flavus fixed that and sent his opponent down to the ground.

"Ahh!" Clef cried out, "Enfer!"

'Sorry, you could have been a great warrior.' Flavus thought, but what he said was different.

"This is what trust gets you."

Not even bothering to raise his pistols, Flavus shot from the hip with hand canons still in their holsters. A single pair of shots was fired. In response two kneecaps appeared to explode, blood going everywhere. Clef screamed, rolling on the ground holding his knees as his semblance desperately tried to knit the flesh back together.

Looking back up to the Arbiter, the bounty hunter lifted his goggles to show eyes of a burning orange to shout a challenge.

"There's your "not able to continue". I saw it in your eyes; you knew I was going to win and yet you goaded him on. To what ends? A crippled champion? I think you know the real reason I'm here, Maester Arc. And you wanted to test me." Flavus spat, the fury in his eyes visible to everyone through the large screens around the arena.

"And how did I do, your grace? Yes I know your legacy. In fact…" Flavus slipped his goggles back down, "I lived in peace, and I had a happy ending. The days shone like gold. Then you ascended, and it's now time for you to die."

The Arbiter, now revealed to be the Lord and Hunter Arc, laughed.

"Oh this is great; I have had many an enemy. Countless bounty hunters and assassins have failed as well as the daemons that we call Grimm. My apprentice's wounds have already healed and my semblance is many times more unyielding than his. What makes you think you can kill me?"

Reaching underneath his cloak, the marksman unslung his rifle. In its compact form the gun was a foot and a half by two thirds of a foot. And then it unfolded, sections from the top and bottom extending to lengthen the barrel while a section near the middle shot before another telescopic section formed a stock. There was a massive dust cylinder slightly ahead of the clip system and a smaller one above it intersecting with the barrel. The sniper was loaded with a large caliber round magazine.

"This thing." The rifle was now as tall as the man holding it, a six foot construct of metal and dust, left side gold while the right side was a solid white. "You've seen this thing before, I know that. I know that you've seen the other tools in my arsenal before as well. You've held them in your hands, you even wielded them once. You know what this can do."

Turning to look at the defeated warrior, lying in a pool of his own blood and sand, Flavus raised Duo Luna. Clef raised his head to look down the barrel.

"No…"

'I'm sorry' mouthed the hunter before he fired twice, large ice spikes pinning the knight's arms to the ground.

"I was going to be a knight like you, Lord Arc, like this man was to be." He gestured to Clef. "But you ruined my life, my future. I fortunately found another like me. And I learned from him, from my fellow ruined and, most of all, you."

Duo Luna suddenly jerked as if trying to escape the marksman's grasp. The barrel split into four tines each at a diagonal corner while the large dust chamber rotated up to replace its smaller brother. A brilliant white light sprung up around the gun, limning it in white flame.

The light discharged, hurtling across the arena to impact right over Clef Verrou's heart. His aura, a fiery red, was visibly coating his body to protect it from harm. It did nothing against the torrent of pure power that lanced right through him.

Any scream was rendered imperceptible by the massive sonic-boom that the weapon emitted. When the light had faded, the knight was frozen in a rictus of agony, held there only by his armor. Where his heart should be there was naught but a smoking hole.

Screams sounded through the arena as spectators ran for the exit. Flavus lifted the weapon to his shoulder to aim at the unmoving Arbiter, one of the magnifying glasses on his goggles flipping down, providing a perfect zoom to Arc's head.

"Every heart is not filled with love, Arbiter. And now your apprentice, like me, doesn't have one. Gotcha, Arc. Now it's time to die."

Maester Arc shot out a hand in front of him, palm out in a sign to cease.

"Too late. Say hello to the others for me." Whispered the marksman, more to himself than anyone else.

A second lance of light fired. Closer and closer it drew to the handsome face of Lord Arc, faster than a bullet yet seeming to move as slow as tar. Arc closed his eyes. They opened again and this time they were pure white. The spear of light jolted forwards and all there remained was an impact.

Jaune Arc, leader of team JNPR, shot up. His breathing was ragged, heart pounding while sweat dripped down from his blonde hair to spatter on his chest. He looked around the dorm room to reassure himself.

There was no arena, no dead warrior and no spike of light about to end his own life. Ren was sleeping peacefully, not even moving aside from his breathing, sheets without a single wrinkle in them. It was calm and everything was fine on the men's side of the dorm. He expected it was the same on the other side of the curtain. He hoped.

These dreams had happened before. And he hoped that this one wouldn't come to pass.

End of Prologue, the first Chapter is prewritten and will likely be released when I finish Chap 2, a chapter that is already in the works.