Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY or Star Wars.
A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away . . .
The specter of Civil War looms large as the Imperial Navy of the Galactic Empire scours the Outer Rim in search of the Fledgling Rebel Alliance. Scattered and disorganized, the Rebellion is barely holding together. Its leaders are divided in their vision for the future, looking for a symbol to rally behind.
Unbeknownst to both armies, an even darker force is gathering strength at the fringes of the Galaxy. An ancient enemy of sentient life is awakening from its slumber, roused by the growing sense of fear and hatred. It seeks to manipulate the coming conflict, plunge Inter-Galactic civilization into the next Dark Age, and reclaim its lost supremacy over the Force itself.
Meanwhile, on the desolate world of Tatooine, a bounty hunter is on a search of his own. Unwittingly, he has already taken the first step in setting their apocalyptic plan in motion . . .
A figure swathed in a crimson cloak strode through oceans of sand beneath the harsh twin suns burning the surface of Tatooine. As the wind blew, the red cloth flapped in the air to reveal that the young faunus was clad in an amber-colored, head-to-toe suit of Mandalorian armor, the standard armor of another species struggling to survive the Galactic Empire. He walked in weary silence, and cradled an Imperial Long-rifle in his arms, relieved that his hunt was finally approaching its conclusion. His helmet's sensors gave him a panoramic view from almost every angle, and the faunus could see a black plume of smoke drifted over the next dune, his destination.
Javik took note of how quickly the dark wisps dissipated and knew he needed to hurry if he wanted to avoid being caught with his civvies down in a sandstorm. He'd be blind if a big one blew in, and the freelance bounty had heard some disturbing stories back at the spaceport about Jawa scavengers being eaten alive by giant worms a few years back. It all sounded pretty outlandish to him, but he was still marginally spooked.
Brushing away a spattering of sand that had been dirtying the cross-section of his T-shaped visor for some time and tugging on the hood of his cloak, Javik picked up his pace, loping purposefully up the ridge with long strides. He settled into a crouch on his haunches at the cusp, surveying the shuttle's crash site through his weapon's scope.
The shuttle had struck the ground at a sharp enough angle to bury its nose into the shifty sands. On top of that, the ion drives were still burning. Well, smoldering seemed a more accurate description. There probably wasn't much left to burn aside from some exposed circuitry and a few duraplast plates. Miraculously, the craft had managed not to collide with any of the now scorched boulders scattered around its frame. To Javik, it almost looked like the shuttle had more landed than crashed, albeit rather roughly and abruptly. Javik could only guess as to why the boarding ramp was bulging outwards like a Wookie had tackled it. Whatever the reason, that entry was a no-go. A flicker of movement drew his attention to the open damaged docking hatch, or rather, the jagged space aft of the cockpit.
"Kark! You're hard to kill." Javik breathed, feeling a strange amount of respect for his quarry. It wasn't very often that anyone managed to escape one of his ambushes, much less elude capture for several standard days with him on their tail. He never had fit the whole 'blood and guts' stereotype all that well – too sentimental apparently - but he was nothing if not efficient. Javik had assassinated Moffs, ransomed Hutt crime lords a time or three, and he'd even assisted a few Imperial strike teams in killing rogue Jedi as an "auxiliary unit working in the interests, and for the greater good, of the Empire", but he couldn't remember ever working this hard for his credits. Well . . . whatever the circumstances, his quarry's uncanny luck had run out.
Sliding down the other side of the sand dune, Javik rolled the last few feet to take cover behind a smooth, freshly-blackened boulder a short dash away from the crashed ship. Anticipating tight quarters inside the shuttle, Javik locked his Long-rifle onto his back, drawing a pair of sleek, DL-44 heavy blaster pistols from the forearm compartments inside his armored gauntlets.
They were easy to hide and fairly effective at punching through both shielded and unshielded infantry, but they also had smaller energy cells then he'd like, a deficiency Javik kept in mind. As of recent decrees by old Palps' himself, the 44s were also highly illegal, his even more so after allowing a boisterous Mando to take a few liberties with the design. Shortened barrels and two forcibly removed sights meant his sidearms were now modified for quick draws, an invaluable skill in his line of work.
Javik aimed both blasters over the boulder towards the wreckage, but if his target was still inside, she wasn't coming out. "Making me do all the work, typical woman." Javik grumbled in frustration, vaulting over his cover and dashing towards the entrance, his cloak whipping behind him as he ran. He half expected to be shot immediately and end up tumbling to the ground with a burning hole in his flank, but he was able to slide against the opening without incident.
The docking hatch had been blown inward in mid-flight courtesy of a little souvenir Javik had planted onboard the craft as a last resort. Once the runaway shuttle had reached the upper stratosphere . . . Kaboom.
Score one for detpacks Javik thought humorlessly. Utilizing explosives had almost felt like cheating, but he couldn't afford to botch this contract. Not only had Javik already received half his payment, but a pair of Inquisitors had arrived onboard an Imperator-Class Star Destroyer to deliver it. No one, not even Javik, was exactly eager to disappoint the Emperor's deadliest assassins, not if they enjoyed the humble pastime of living.
Technically, the Imperator model had been renamed the Imperial class some time ago, but Javik wasn't interested in splitting hairs. Turbolasers were turbolasers were turbolasers. Presumably, the two Inquisitors were both still orbiting Tatooine with their fingers on the FIRE button, awaiting his return with a stack of sparkling aurodium ingots or their lightsabers depending on how successful he was.
Javik inched his way inside the crippled shuttle slowly, momentarily forgetting about his employers as he marveled at how little damage had actually been done to the vessel's tiny infrastructure despite the nose smashing into the sands at speeds exceeding terminal velocity.
"My compliments to the pilot." He whistled, stepping gingerly past a loose power coupling dangling in his way, the movement he'd seen from the hill.
To his immediate left, there was a sparking control panel still trying futilely to alert the pilot to a drastic loss of cabin pressure. The pilot herself was noticeably absent from the open cockpit, so Javik turned his T-shaped visor right to stare down the corridor of the shuttle towards the boarding ramp, purely for appearance's sake. Red fabric twisting with the movement, he shifted his whole body to try and hide the fact that he'd been able to see her all along. There, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the hallway barely ten feet away, was his quarry.
Javik got his first good look at the girl and felt a brief pang of guilt at the sight of her injuries. Her scalp was still bleeding, staining her dirty brown hair with crimson streaks. There was a severe blaster burn in her left calf, and several more shallower burns scattered across her slim torso. On the same side, there was a bacta patch bandaged against her arm in an effort to stimulate healing in some unseen wound below her shoulder. It was almost enough for Javik to ignore the filthy, tattered remnants of her orange flight suit, a clear sign that this teenage girl was actually a Rebel pilot. Personally, he had nothing against the Rebel dissidents, he even sympathized with them to a degree, but his employers were not the kind of people you crossed.
His sentimental side wondered why the Inquisitors wanted her dead, but the other, much wiser, parts wondered why he wondered at all, and it chastised him for bringing his conscience into the mix. It was hard enough killing corrupt Imperial Moffs, but now was murdering younglings too? As if he didn't have enough nightmares to deal with.
The young woman reeked with the sour odor of sweat mixing with various fuelants staining her clothing, yet she still breathed deeply, seemingly lost in a meditative trance or something. Javik aimed his blasters at her, but he stopped short of firing when her eyes snapped open, fixing him in place with those silvery orbs as the hairs on his neck began prickling dangerously at her smile.
"Sooooo . . . are you going to kill me?" She asked brightly, sounding completely at odds with her disheveled appearance. Her voice rang clear as glass through his helmet's audio speakers, about as fragile too. Although, Javik doubted the cause was anything other than pain from her wounds, or possibly her young age. After spending the last several days dodging improvised traps and chasing a woman that, by all accounts, he should have killed many times over, Javik was seriously questioning her humanity. There were a few alien species in the galaxy that could imitate the appearance of other species, Clawdites came to mind, but even that still didn't explain how she'd ran two miles with a karking hole in her leg to reach this doomed shuttle. At this point, he was actually feeling more curious than confrontational.
"Sorry, if I've failed to make my intentions clear, sweetheart." He retorted sarcastically. Javik couldn't find it in himself to smirk at her question, but his annoyance spiked once he realized that he wasn't actually sure what he planned to do anymore himself. He tightened his grip on his blasters, shaking his head to force any thoughts of self-condemnation away.
"I asked what you were going to do, not what you came here to do." The adolescent felon giggled weakly. She stood up on shaking legs and continued waiting expectantly for his answer as she leaned heavily against the shuttle's wall, still grinning like a fool.
Javik bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep from lashing out in growing frustration. Who had the Empire sent him to kill? Nothing about this encounter was typical. Forget about the absurd difficulty he'd overcome just cornering her, Javik was oddly concerned about the route of questioning she was pursuing. The woman wasn't asking for an explanation or begging for her life. She didn't even sound certain that he was going to kill her, but why wouldn't he? What did she know?
"Don't do this." The girl squeaked, showing the first real emotion in her plea when her voice finally cracked. "I don't want to hurt you." She continued, sparking a defiant fire in his gut to match the one flaring within her eyes. Javik couldn't keep a sharp laugh from escaping his lips, blood boiling in an instinctual outrage at what he took for a challenge.
"Really? You think you're going to kill me? Who do you think you are?" He asked incredulously, unnerved by how calmly she responded.
"My name is Ruby Rose," The girl pushed herself off the wall as she spoke, suddenly sounding lethally serious. Javik took a step back even though the girl swayed unsteadily for a moment, a voice in the back of his head screaming danger. "-and I never said anything about killing you." Ruby added before thrusting her palm out towards him.
Javik tucked his chin down in preparation for a thermal detonator, but he saw no metallic orb packed with explosives before an invisible force knocked him off his feet. He flew backwards at unimaginable speed, slamming heavily into a cockpit bulkhead. He felt something break inside his torso, but Ruby wasn't finished with him yet. Another jerk of her hand sent Javik hurtling down into the sparking computer console before letting his body slide to the floor.
"Who . . . the kriff . . . are you?" Javik managed to gasp out despite the painful spasms blossoming behind his ribcage. A metallic copper taste filled his mouth as he looked up to watch the girl pull a ridged cylinder off a loop on her belt.
How did I miss that? Javik wondered, recognizing the device for what it was. He'd seen more than one fall to the ground under a hail of blaster bolts. He couldn't win this fight, not alone. Furious, frustrated tears filled his eyes as the cylinder gave birth to a brilliant blue blade, bathing Ruby's exhausted, battle-worn features in an offbeat azure glow. Somehow, she managed to look childish and warlike all at once.
"There you go asking the wrong question again." Ruby smiled, almost convincing Javik that the concern he saw in her eyes was real. "-but I'll tell you what you need to hear anyways." She continued giddily, flashing him a smug grin as she walked towards him. "As I said, my name is Ruby Rose, and I am a Jedi."
Author's Note: I was inspired by Dappere's story, Star Wars RWBY: Beacon of Hope, and subsequently Dane-of-Celestia's artwork. As such, I feel that it is only right to make that explicitly clear so you can check out their awesome works as well. If, by any chance, either of you read this, I dedicate this first chapter to you.