The one time I decide to try to fall asleep on a plane, this shit happens. I could never do it normally, and would always mentally mock the people around me because they were lucky enough to get some rest through the anxiety.
"I'm in a huge metal tube in the air," I muttered under my breath, hoping my father wouldn't hear me. "Gravity exists, how am I alive right now?"
Maybe because you're an idiot who doesn't really understand how airplanes work, probably. I thought, mocking myself. Taking out my phone brought limited options: listen to music until my phone died, look at old pictures and videos for a while, or open my FanFiction App and read through my Downloaded Stories section. After a few moments of silent contemplation, I went with the third choice.
Wow, I said. These stories aren't too bad. I allowed my mind to look through them with a critical mind, doing mental corrections and noting techniques I could use for my own stories. I began to think with the serious notion of criticism. This writer is really good at describing environments and appearances, I noted. It's a shame his weakness is character development, otherwise this story would be perfect.
I was literally shaken out of my reading stupor by some harsh turbulence, but everyone around me stayed asleep. I grumbled aloud, but not loud enough to wake up my dad next to me. Ugh, I hate. I said. In general, I just hated. I hated being up in this airplane for another eight whole hours. I hated the fact that I was stuck on this plane with my dad of all people. I hated the fact that I couldn't sleep away my anxieties like the rest of these people. I hated how—then there was nothing.
.. . . .
"Um, hello?" I called out into the darkness. I had been walking around aimlessly for a while, and had no idea what was going on until two… me's walked forward; one looked slightly skinnier and had a permanent smirk on his face and green eyes that shone with mischief while the other had deep blue eye behind glasses, but stood a little taller and looked to have more muscle mass than me. Then there was me, standing there with an average body, with black hair and dark brown eyes. "Excuse me?"
Yeah, sure. The skinnier one spoke, his voice was a little higher, almost stereotypically punk-ish. Well, not spoke, his mouth didn't move. Which one, though?
"I could honestly tell you're both supposed to be me, but how and why?" I asked. This time the bigger me spoke up with a deeper, more refined sounding tone.
From what I could gather, we're dead.
"Dead?" I repeat. "Like, I died in the airplane?"
Most probably, as we were in there last.
We don't exactly have much other options as where to we died.
"I don't need your sass."
Too bad, I am your sass.
I didn't respond right away. What did that mean? "Explain, please."
Your mind was stressed out so much that you blacked out, almost like an overload.
"Any that explains your existence… how?"
Well, we're you. Your most cognizant parts of your conscious mind, and as such, major parts of your personality. Upon trying to recover from whatever killed us, something must have triggered a way for us to exist as separate entities within you.
"So instead of voicing my thoughts in your respective attitudes in my head," I deduced. "You've become separate beings in my head and can see what I do from here on out."
From what I can tell, yes.
"What entity are you, then?"
Your critical side, I take up the serious, more profound topics and make it easier to expand for all of us to understand.
And I'm the one with a sense of humor and imagination!
"So a left brain, right brain sort of thing?" I said. They nodded. "Alright then—wait."
Yes?
"If I'm dead, then why do I need you two?"
That… is a good question.
It is pretty dark in here, Punk-me said. Have you tried opening your eyes?
"What does that mean?" I asked him/me. "I feel wide awake."
… Try harder?
"Yeah, you're definitely my sass." Punk me laughed at my statement.
It doesn't hurt to try, I guess. Focus on waking up.
"Alright." I closed my eyes hard and concentrated. Suddenly I could feel something soft on my back, almost like a bed. I opened my eyes and allowed light to flood my sight.
Once the sunlight ceased its assault my cornea, I saw that I was laying down on a bed. Sitting up revealed that I was in some sort of infirmary. A hospital would have had nurses and multiple other instruments around; this room only had beds and the basic vital sign-reading machines. Look behind me and to me left was such a machine, attached to my left arm through a series of tubes and sticky sensors. Apparently, a sensor must have alerted someone to my awakening because a nurse walked over to me from the side of the room, which was mostly blocked by my personal section's curtains.
"You're finally awake," The nurse spoke with a soft, motherly tone. Her soft pink eyes quickly glanced over my body for any signs of stress or discomfort. "How are you feeling?"
Wow, she is staaaacked.
"I… uh," I was caught off guard by the punk side of me speaking aloud in my mind, let alone the fact that he was focused on another part of the nurse's body. I ended up shaking my head both to clear it and respond to the nurse. "I'm fine, nothing seems to hurt."
Oh, it appears we can speak to you directly when you're awake. That's good to know, I guess. I'll have to get used to it later.
"Alright then," The nurse gave a small smile as she walked over to check on my vitals. I didn't really understand what the machine said, but I relied on her judgement to see how I fared. "Your vitals have stabilized and show no signs in dipping, other than an extremely large amount of Aura. You're clear to leave, but Ozpin really needs to talk to you."
"Alright." I immediately answered, completely used to being in hospitals and clinics for ankle and leg injuries and—
Wait, what?
Aura? Ozpin?
Wait, does that mean…
A familiar dark green-clad man with silver hair approached me with a small smile. His eyes examined me carefully as he walked up to my bed. Both voices in my head were absolutely silent. Now, I was a fan of Rooster Teeth, and loved their animated show, RWBY, more than most of its animated productions. I was not mentally prepared for what was about to happen to me.
"Hello young man," The familiar voice of Shannon McCormick greeted me. "Welcome to Beacon. How are you feeling?"
WHAT. Both new mentalities responded in kind.
"I'm… fine." I said, finding a word that summed up how I was not feeling at all.
"What is your name?" The Headmaster of Beacon asked.
Karios
Lukas
"Ross." I gave my real name.
Well, there goes that plan.
Would've been a good start to have a change of name, being dead and all. I ignored them and continued.
"I'm Ross. What do you mean by, 'Welcome to Beacon?'"
"You're in the infirmary of Beacon Academy." Ozpin pulled over a stool and sat at the corner of my bed. "You took quite the fall not too far from here, you know."
"From like, a cliff?"
Wow, really? I could feel him rolling his eyes. A go at humor to lighten the situation?
"The sky, actually." He clarified. That seems rather appropriate, seeing as we died on a plane.
"How am I here, then?" I asked.
"A team of students happened to be training close to where you were to land." Ozpin said. "You're very lucky to have encountered those circumstances."
I wonder what team it was. Please, please JNPR or RWBY.
I'm just hoping for any of them except CRDL.
True, it would suck to be in debt to those assholes.
Agreed.
"So… what now?" I asked Ozpin.
"How old are you, Ross?" He asked
Oh boy, here we go.
The question that so many OCs have been asked before.
But… we're not gonna say no, are we?
I think it's best to see where this path takes us, and wing it as always.
That's a bit unlike you to say that, being the one for reason and all.
Then again, it's what we do best whenever we get lost doing anything.
Good point.
I blinked hard to clear my head before I finally respond with, "I'm eighteen."
"Do you have anywhere to go, or anyone to live with nearby?"
Well, that's all rather convenient.
"No." I admitted, a little sad at the idea that I was dead. There was nothing I could do about it now, though, so why would I cry trying to fight it? I have to come to terms with having left my lonely, single life behind, on the way to a liberal arts degree that would leave me with miserable desk job and no vertical advancement. In the end, there was really nothing to miss. I'll miss the few somewhat close friends, sure, but I was never really close to anyone, not even my family in the last few years.
That's even more convenient, Mr. Introvert.
We have no solid ties back home, what's slowing us down from trying to have an exciting life in the fantasy world we've read and dreamt about?
The latter was right, I had no true anchors to my old life. I might as well try to live this new one to the fullest and make something useful out of myself.
"Have you any experience as a fighter, guns, and Dust?" Ozpin queried with a small smirk that told me he was planning something. However, he didn't know I would take that something with gusto.
"I can fight, and I've some experience with sniper rifles." I answered honestly. "I'm not too familiar with Dust, though."
Yeah, you're totally experienced after you only shot one that sniper rifle that one time we went to the shooting range, like five years ago. I mentally dismissed the sassy comment to listen to what Ozpin said.
"If you are interested, we can enroll you as a student here." Ozpin said with a practice tone. "If you feel confident in your abilities, and truly wish to study to become a Hunter, your addition to this Academy would be greatly received."
"Why's that?"
"Your nurse mentioned you having an extraordinarily large amount of Aura, yes?"
I nodded.
"To be accurate, you have four times the normal amount of Aura, meaning you either have four souls, or are extremely lucky." Ozpin stated, causing my other minds to stir.
Four?
I suppose the three of us added together have our own Auras, then a little extra Aura as a result.
"A Hunter like you would be extremely valuable. Any sort of great amount, with the right training, can be translated into great strength as a Hunter. You have quite some potential as a Hunter, no matter what path you end up taking."
Sounds like he's a little suspicious of us.
He did say we have a lot of Aura together. We could be a formidable foe if we train well. We are going to be on the force of good, right? I mentally assured the both of them that I'd be on the good side here.
"Will you take my offer?" Ozpin asked. "It's completely up to you; it's your fate in the end."
How cryptically ominous of him to say that.
There's three of us now. That's three heads to deal with different problems at once. We have an advantage.
I looked up to Ozpin after a minute of silent contemplation and said, "I'll do it."
My now-Headmaster extended a hand, which I took and shook, and said to me, "Welcome to Beacon, Ross."
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heyo, BleachCadelina here with the first chapter of the winning "Crossover" that was voted for." You all (6) voted the "crossover" of RWBYxMe over the ones with Fire Emblem and Pokemon. Oh well. Either way, I hope you like the premise of the story so far, and that you all like it in the end. Leave your thoughts and criticisms below! I'd love to know what y'all think! As always, thank you for reading!)