Disclaimer: RWBY and its characters belong to Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum. Only the OC's are mine. Other characters that are clearly from other fandoms or works are not mine, either, and belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 1: You Only Die Twice
"Every man has his folly, but the greatest folly of all … is not to have one."
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek
When I was a little boy, I had hope. I had hope in the belief that man will be rewarded if they persevere through everything in life. I also believed that man was predispositioned for greatness.
Now, as a man, I found the latter to be naïve and the former to be utter bullshit. My life seemed to have proven that an infinite times over. I've been through hell and back and the most I've gotten was a metaphorical 'pat on the back' for my 'efforts.' Even then, life liked to spit on my face and kick me while I'm already reeling.
As a man, I've always prided myself for my pragmatism and distaste for the naïveté that I've once displayed as a child. The world isn't as innocent as children believe it to be. It might be home to some of the most beautiful things, but the real world harbors some of the most disgusting entities fathomable. Rapists, cartel leaders, dictators. As a CIA agent turned contract killer, I've witnessed firsthand the putrid cesspools that reside within humanity, and I have a goal to eliminate it, however bloody the means might be.
As a dying man, I find it hard to believe that I've begun to question these beliefs.
"In the end, is this what you wanted?" a voice pleaded, bringing my mind back to my current situation. It belonged to my oldest comrade, a man named Barloc. He is the only one I can truly call "brother."
"No, but I surely expected this," I replied with a tinge of sarcasm in my voice.
"Even while you're slowly dying from poison, you have to be a smartass, dont'cha?"
"What ever do you mean?"
"I'll tell you what I mean, you smartass. You raided the home of one of the most prominent crime lords in all of Europe, a man only known as 'Dante the Cold', armed with only two pistols and spare ammo. What more did you expect?"
"That I would have at least shot that bastard in his nuts?"
"That's beside the fact that you killed 97 of his best mercenaries?"
I didn't grace him with a reply. In an attempt to avenge the fallen, I charged into that bastard Dante's home in the countryside of France. I killed all of his goons, but not before he was able to shoot me a few times and injected a toxin into me, before storming off. He didn't want to grace me with a quick death, so he left me to watch myself die a slow death.
'I wanted to take you as a prize, so that you can be tortured slowly and painfully, begging for death like poor Emelie. Alas, you are dangerous. Too dangerous. You see, I didn't shoot you fatally. It's because I want to impart to you a final little gift from Uncle Dante. This poison will slowly kill you, maybe within an hour, maybe more. It will leave your body mostly paralyzed, but you will not be in pain. I want you to be able to realize that you have failed. The pain will distract you. I want you to agonize over your petty little failure. You will never win this game of mine. I want you to know, in the end, you died in vain. You died for nothing, you little bastard.'
After he left, I screamed and shouted curses at the heavens. After I lost all the energy to spite the world, Barloc arrived. He was no fighter. I didn't even know he knew what my plan was.
'I just knew you were going here, I guessed maybe to talk a deal or maybe a part of your plan to eventually kill him off. When all the guards start running inside, I knew something was wrong. Then everything went to shit. I heard gunshots, noises, explosions even. I stayed back, observing, hoping that you didn't do something stupid. But turns out you went on a massacre, alone, and when I went inside, I vomited from all the fucking blood everywhere. You were able to single-handedly kill 97 trained mercenaries, but to Dante, it was all a game. He let you kill them, and finished you off himself. I didn't know what crazy was until I saw this.'
We both knew that killing all those men didn't matter to me if I couldn't kill that poor son of a bitch behind it all. The child in me wondered about the 97 families left with one less family member, inquiring, 'Even if you got him in the end, did they all really have to die?'
The adult in me knew to leave the philosophy to the shrink.
The current me couldn't resist the questions brewing in my head.
I couldn't lift up my head to look at Barloc, instead staring at the ground next to my face. I noted the contrast of the blood on the otherwise pristine tile floor. My blood. It still hasn't hit me that I was dying.
"Remember in the orphanage back when we were kids, Barloc? I remember that every Halloween I used to dress up as a superhero, like Spider-man or Superman, always spewing out some crap about saving the world, one orphan at a time? Remember?"
Not showing any discomfort at this question, maybe out of respect of a dying man, Barloc snorted out,"Yeah, I remember that you had to dye your underwear red and stole some tights to dye them blue because the caretaker couldn't afford any costumes. Those times were much simpler that now."
"We didn't have to deal with the real world, that's why. Even then I wouldn't have dreamed that I'd end up as a rogue hit-man, or that I'd be dying before I turned 30."
"I don't think anyone would've imagined this crap happening," Barloc replied humorously.
"What happened?" I asked.
"What the hell do you mean?" Barloc uttered.
"I mean, what happened to that kid? What caused him to turn into what I am now? I've become one of the deadliest people on this world. I can name more ways to kill someone barehanded than I can pop stars."
"Suffering."
I raised my eyebrows at his answer, or at least I attempted to, "What?"
"Suffering happened. It does the most intriguing things to us. When the orphanage burned down, we all felt pain. However, you probably felt more pain than any of us. Ms. Conner was always the closest to you, and some of us resented that. During the fire, she managed to save us at the cost of her own life."
"She'd be turning over in her grave if she saw me now," I commented guiltily.
He chuckled, with a twinge of sadness. He continued, "Nevertheless, we all did different things with the pain we felt. Maximilian? He ran away after it all went down. Even now, as an accomplished engineer, he never mentions what had transpired that night. Me? When we learned it was the fault of a arsonist trying to burn down the neighboring building with a rivaling gang, I became a cop so I could prevent it from ever happening again. It was naïve of me, but it led me to become what I am today? You? You-"
I cut him off, "-let the pain turn into hatred. I vowed revenge against the bastards that made this happen. I wanted to be rid of them, the scum they were. I worked in the dark, CIA agent, turned contract killer, turned dead pile of shit. In hindsight... I wonder who the scum really was."
"And this is what happened. I warned you what would become of you. I tried to tell you that-"
"-in the end, it won't be worth it, yadda yadda-," I interrupted him again.
"Still doesn't mean that I'm wrong, you know," this time it me who was cut off.
I didn't reply. In the end, he was right. I was just too afraid to admit it
Barloc said after a bit of silence, "It only takes a bit of time working in the darkness before you become part of it."
"That's why you have to leave. The cops should be coming any minute now. Even if you came in after the bastard left, they'll question you. Witness protection or not he'll find you. He'll hunt you down I refuse to let you become part of this."
"Do you think I care, you ass!?" he bellowed.
That shocked me into a bout of silence.
"Do you think I want to let that bastard run off after ruining my best friend's life! Do you think I give a damn!" he shouted.
"Yeah, but your wife might... and your kids. In the end, you were right. I lost all hope in this world, but you haven't. Live another day. Don't become another me. You can change the world, Barloc."
He stood there in silence. No more words were exchanged, but we both knew what was left unsaid.
I will.
"I-I guess this is goodbye, old friend," I managed to squeak out, my sight getting even muddier.
With finality, he promised, "I'll be holding you to that drink you said we'll have."
"When did I promise you a drink?" I managed to croak out with my vision beginning to spin more rapidly.
"Before the fire."
With that, I was left alone.
It finally hit me that I was dying. No more drinking, no more sex. No more fun, no more money. No more of anything, really. I'm going to die alone, with no children to succeed me, and few people that know my story. In my quest for vengeance, I managed to truly make myself alone.
There's no nice way to say it. I lived a horrible life, as a horrible man. Emelie would be disappointed in me. I sure as hell would be if I was her. That thought left a sour taste on my mouth. She always did question my profession back when I was an agent. I told her that I had no regrets. Look where that mindset landed me.
From one hell, to another.
"To Hell? No. But maybe to another mortal coil."
Everything faded into nothingness before I could process what I just heard.
"What the hell!?" I garbled out, scrambling to stand up. That's where I went silent. I shouldn't have been able to stand up, let alone at the speed I did it at. I observed myself. I was still in my suit that I raided the house in, but the lack of bullet holes and blood was disconcerting to say the least.
"Surprised to see that you're still alive, yes?" I heard from behind me.
I turned around briskly. Whatever words that would've left my mouth, however unbecoming, got stuck in my throat before I could vocalize them properly. I saw a figure bathed in light. He wasn't necessarily an imposing figure, but what made my breath catch in my throat was the power, the aura, he was exuding. Angel wings flapped behind him, it, I don't even know anymore. What was truly stunning was the fact that his wings had sheaths of paper instead of feathers. I couldn't see his face; he was masked by a set of curved plates, shaped in a way reminiscent of a bird's head. A halo of fire sat behind his head. Finally, he carried a large white book close to his body.
I finally managed to take in my surroundings. I was standing on clouds, taking on surreal shapes around me. It was like I was standing in a hurricane, except light peeked through the clouds at random intervals, bathing the two of us in light. "Wh-Where am I?" I managed to croak out.
"Where? I cannot really answer that query, because that relies on a sense of place, whether physical or not. In the best sense, you are nowhere, but everywhere. You don't exist in this plane, nor does this place truly exist," The figure answered.
"So like limbo, then?"
"No, because that exists on a different plane. Think of this as more like a 'place' in between places."
"All this crap is hard to understand."
"I know," he—I'm guessing that it's a 'he'— said.
"I still can't imagine why I'm here"
"Yes, I know that, too."
"Well then, Mr. Omniscient, what am I doing here?" I said sarcastically.
Undeterred by my comment, he replied, "It is not what you are doing here, but rather, what you are here for. You are here for reasons that are twofold: you are here for things to be explained to you, and for a task that awaits you."
"Wait, wait, holdup. What do you mean by 'a task'?"
He opened his book and explained, "Exactly what you might think I mean. Your time on Earth was unfortunate, however, it has been written Here that you are to be given a task. I know that you believe you deserve to go to Hell, if you truly believe in the , the afterlife is not ready to welcome you. Neither Heaven, nor Hell, nor even Purgatory have a spot prepared for you. Instead, a different place has a space reserved for you, child."
I divulged this information, and I simply laughed, "This must be some sort of special type of punishment or damnation for all the fucked up things I did. And what's with 'child'? I'm a grown man for crying out loud!"
"Punishment? Take it as you will, but damnation it is not. And I address you as a child because you are a child."
"Is that a quip to my masculinity?"
"No, but your childhood was cut short, was it not? At least, your teenage years. So you shall relive them, at least, in a different way. With much different circumstances," he explained.
"So is it gonna be like some type of time travel, butterfly effect, Many Worlds type crap? A second chance? A little cliche, if you ask me," I guessed.
"I know. Yet, this isn't necessarily a second chance. I will only say that the setting you shall find yourself in won't be the most familiar."
Before I could speak up, he opened the book and forced it upon me.
"Look into it, read it, and see, you shall."
"Wait, wait, I still have questions! What or who are you? Are you some sort of god or some other type fairy tale bullshit?"
"Hmm... You may refer to me as Raziel. I have but a remnant of hope in you. Enough reposing, though. You have much to do, and much to learn."
With that, he thrust the book into my hands. I carefully read the pages, seeing that they were blank.
"What's this? These pages are blank? Is this a fu..." I trailed off.
I looked up. He was gone. The landscape completely transformed. Instead, I was standing in an alley surrounded by brick houses on both sides. I tried to look back to the book, but I saw that it was gone. Instead, two sets of pistols, a bit more technologically advanced than my former set, replaced it. Reminds me of those hand cannon things from Destiny.
I observed my hands. Gone were the rough calluses that marred my hands, the result of years of rough training and handling. They were smaller now, and I moved them around, slightly amazed by the transformation. I looked into a puddle formed by rainwater beside a dumpster. My hair was long(er) again, going down past my ears. My face cleansed of the scars that have taken residence on my face after years with the CIA. My cerulean eyes stared back at me, a stranger in an even stranger world. The last time I had long hair was when I was 14, right before the fire.
"Goddamn h-" I started, before I heard a commotion from the street behind me.
"Stop those White Fang!" a voice screamed, coming from an elderly man running out of a what I assume to be a bank, chasing after two runners, both wearing some weird ass white masks over their faces and- wait were those dog ears!?
They began running into the alley were I was at, so I went and hid behind a trashcan deeper within the alleyway. Oddly enough, as the footsteps neared, they began to die out, indicating that they stopped running. What in the world are they doing?
"You smell that, Azure? I smell a dirty little human," a masculine voice declared, with a venomous tone.
My blood froze when I heard that. What the fuck! They have the senses of a bloodhound, too?
"Yeah, Jojo, I can smell those bastards from a mile away," a distinctly feminine voice replied
The irrational part of my brain wanted to ask, 'how the fuck can you do that?' Instead, I chose to keep quiet, hoping that they couldn't pinpoint my loca-
"I know you're hiding behind that trashcan, you can't fool the nose of a faunus," the female announced.
Shit, I cursed mentally. I was compromised. No use in hiding now, might as well take them on.
I left my hiding spot, hands reaching for my new pistols.
"Well what do we have here, it's just a kid, now what the Dust might you be doing here?" the guy with the dog ears asked, the apparent humor permeating his voice.
"This kid is gonna fuck you up, bitchass."
Barloc always knew that my smartass mouth would be the end of me.
"And how are you planning to do that, kid?" the woman, Azure I'm guessing, asked sarcastically. She unsheathed her weapon, a large Japanese odachi with- Wait is that a gun barrel on the guard?!
The man, Jojo, pulled out a shotgun with a fucking sword attached to the top of the barrel, and posed it to shoot. Wasting no time, Azure went into a downward slash with her odachi. She put a lot of power into her strike, too much, and that was a perfect opportunity for me. In the narrow alleyway, I used the wall to jump a bit higher and used my other foot to propel the blade deeper into the ground by kicking it downward.
"You bast-" I cut her off with a roundhouse kick to the face, her reaction time too slow to let go of the blade, still stuck on the ground. She seemed to still be conscious, scrambling away from her sword, so I fired two rounds into her torso with my pistols.
"You motherfucker!" Jojo bellowed, beginning to use his shotgun like a sword, not giving me enough time to make sure that Azure was done for. After a few angry slashes, he began to fire at me with his shotgun-sword hybrid, so I took cover around a corner.
"Running away, huh? Just like every other human bastard us faunus have to deal with."
I crouched down. He rounded the corner, his shotgun aimed at me. Before he could fire, I kicked the shotgun from underneath him into his face, using left for stability as I went into a crouching high kick.
"AGHH! Motherfucker gave me a bloody n-" I graciously interrupted him with a heel kick into his solar plexus, making him stumble backwards onto his ass. He tried to fire his shotgun but I sprinted towards him, grabbing the barrel of his shotgun and kicking his hands to make him let go of it. I swiftly knocked him out using the butt of his shotgun to hammer the side of his head.
I threw the shotgun down into the ground. Seems as if the 'welcoming party' for my new life was over.
At least I know I retained some of my skills, I thought. Suddenly, I heard something shift from behind me. My instincts screamed at me to duck, and I narrowly avoided being sliced in half. I quickly ran away from the figure behind me.
"So that's what Jojo and Azure have been up to, huh. It's shameful they were knocked out by some kid," a deep voice rang behind me.
I turned around. There was another one of those 'White Fang' bastards, same uniform and everything. The only difference was that this guy was much more imposing, large, and muscular. There were tattoos lining his forearms, going from past his sleeves. He held an extremely large sword, a claymore from what I could tell.
"It's a shame that you're a human. If you were a faunus, the White Fang would've had a use for one with your type of skill. Instead, you're a human, and the fact that you were able to knock out two experienced members like it was childsplay speaks volumes of how dangerous you'll be. Because of that, I must kill you," he declared,
"I'd like to see you try," I replied before leaping into action, running straight into him.
"HAH! You think you can beat me like that, kid? You're hilarious!" he guffawed before he attacked, trying to slice me in half.
I ducked under his strike, however, and picked up the shotgun sword beside him, slashing at his ankles. It successfully connected, except that no blood was coming out.
What on Earth!
Before I could do something else, he turned around and went for a downwards slash on my crouching form. I barely blocked his claymore with the body of the shotgun.
He pushed against my blade and taunted, "Where's all your shit talk now, kid?"
It was clear that he was going to win this exchange so I rolled out from underneath his blade and let it hit the ground to my right. I tried to fire, but the weapon seemed to have been empty. He went for diagonal slash at my form, but I was ready. I sidestepped from his strike, crouched and got underneath his guard, and pummeled the butt of the shotgun into his stomach.
"Aghh!" he gasped out. I spun around to get right behind him, clapping his ears as hard as possible, making them bleed. He let go of his weapon, clutching at his bleeding ears.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
He span around and tried to tackle me, but instead I side kicked him in his ribs before he could reach me, stopping him in his tracks. I promptly went and sent a volley of punches into his torso and finished off with a palm thrust into his solar plexus.
"BLURGHH," he spit out. I smirked at my impending victory. He dropped down to his knees panting heavily.
"You're gonna regret this! The White Fang will seek your sorry ass out, teenage brat or not!" he panted out.
"Then let them come," I said with finality, kicking his head hard enough to break someone's neck, but instead it only seemed to knock him out.
I looked back unto my hands and moved them around. I shook my legs off and took in my smaller, younger, body. It will take some time to get used to it. I walked back to where I left Azure. Her uniform was stained with blood, but she was still alive, albeit unconscious.
What in the name of God are these people? It's like they have an invisible force field around their bodies. That last guy should be dead by now, but something took the brunt of my force.
A dark figure leaped down from one of the window ledges. I tensed up when it reached for something, and with all the crazy weapons I've been seeing, I knew not to let my guard down. Instead of a bladed monstrosity, it pulled out a flask and began drinking from it.
"You got a lot of balls, taking on those White Fang like that," it—he said, stepping out into the light.
He had medium length gray hair, red eyes, and a matching cape. He wore an odd gray dress shirt and black pants. I noted the large sword tucked away behind him, eyeing him carefully if he made any suspicious moves.
"Easy there, kid, I ain't here to hurt'cha, and if I really wanted to, you'd be halfway to Atlas by now," he commented, taking notice of my tenseness.
"Can't be too careful," I replied shortly. Even if I needed to fight him, I had a feeling that I'd lose to him. The way he carried himself was different compared to the other grunts I just knocked out.
After a bit of tense silence, he said, "Still, I'm no White Fang. I saw that little scuffle of yours back there, but you surprised me with those moves of yours. I was about to come in and break some bones before you managed to knock that first one to hell. So instead, I watched to see what you could do. How the hell does a kid like you have some lethal tricks up his sleeve. Even with Aura, you did some serious damage. I couldn't even tell if yours was unlocked."
"Aura, whats Aura? Some type of magical bullshit?" I replied incredulously.
"What's Aura? Aura is a manifestation of your soul. Sounds like some superstitious mumbo jumbo, but look here, brat, I'm not a very superstitious kind of guy but with the things I've seen, Aura being a part of your soul isn't the craziest thing out there. It's like your body's defense, a force field if you will," he explained, drinking out of his flask from time to time.
That explains how those bastards aren't dead, I thought, frowning internally.
He interrupted my musings, "So enough of that, I want to know who you are, ya little brat. Few people your age, even hunters in training, are able to knock three experienced White Fang members out like that, and what more, you were looking to kill. I saw your surprise when you went to check that they were still alive, don't deny it. So before I knock you out and drag you to Ozpin, maybe you could explain some of those moves you had back there."
"..."
"... You have until I finish my drink here before I knock your lights out."
"... Would you believe me if I told you that I'm from another world? "
"... I'm not that drunk, now-"
I cut him off, "I know it sounds crazy, but hear me out. I was killed but then I was sent here like some type of 'second chance' or redemption. I have no idea what this Aura shit is. I don't know what the hell this 'White Fang' is, either! Here, look at my phone, I have some pictures, I know it's not much but I have nothing else." I pulled out my smartphone and fortunately, there was still battery.
"What type of scroll is that?"
"It's what I call a smartphone, but here take a look."
I handed over the phone to him, with the gallery open. He swiped through the pictures. It had a sparse amount of pictures, some of locations I needed to scout out, or even some of my old CIA teammates partying after a successful op. They were all old: I had no time to take pictures recently with the shit that's gone down.
"Is that supposed to be you, kid?" he asked, pointing at a certain picture of me a few years back. I was happy then, smiling, forgetting about my past, before even more shit hit the fan.
"Yeah, that's me, or at least, was me. I'm supposed to be 29, hell, I don't even know how old I actually am NOW, but here I am. I was a government agent, trained and licensed to kill. After my tenure there, I went into the hitman business."
"It sure looks like you, but for all I know it could be your brother or dad or something. Now who's the other girl over here?" he pointed at the girl next to me, who was taking the picture.
"She's gone."
Silence ensued. He knew not to pry deep into dark memories, and I had a feeling he knew what it was like, too.
"I can't shake the feeling that you're just messin' with me here, kid" he finally said.
"Here, this is the last thing I have, take a look." I pulled out one of the maps I had used to navigate around Europe. I unfolded it from it's small size. It had scribbles and notes drawn on it, part of the process of pinpointing Dante down. It depicted Europe, or at least most of it, with detailed features regarding the landscape and elevation.
"I couldn't have possibly made something this detailed, much less have it on a printed sheet of paper. This is part of my world. Europe: It's only one of 7 continents back home. I'm not lying, hell, even strap me up to a lie detector for Christ's sake! Anything to prove that I'm not bullshitting this!" I pleaded.
"Calm down there, I can't admit that I'm fully convinced, but even this here is a bit too far for someone to be pranking me. Dust, your background story even explains your fighting style and skills. You can't tell anyone else about this kid. I've seen some crazy shit on Remnant, and that might be the only thing keeping your ass alive. Other people will just wanna lock you up into a mental asylum and be done with it," he said.
I sighed with relief. I had gambled a lot on persuading him, the alternative was to lie about it, but that wouldn't get me the answers I needed. Where was I? Who were those people? What is gonna happen tome?
I finally managed to utter out, "So what now?"
"I'll have to report to Ozpin about this, and trust me, he might even believe your story more than I do. But for now, I won't tell him the 'world-hopping' aspect of your life. With your skills, I might have to enroll you in Signal-"
"Wait enroll? Like a school? Why?"
"Let me finish, brat. I don't know about where you come from, but there are people, like me, called hunstmen. We're trained to hunt down creatures of Grimm, ugly, soulless beasts that threaten our existence. Schools like Signal or Beacon train people like you to become bonafide badasses, like me. You might not become as badass as myself, kid, but you might come close."
"So I'm gonna be learning to be a glorified monster hunter?" I asked, half sarcastic, half incredulous.
"You have no other choice, with your skills, I'd rather not have another criminal running around. You might've been a hitman, but if my guess is right, your Aura isn't unlocked yet. Even then, I can eliminate you if necessary, whether or not your Aura is unlocked," he vowed.
"I've had enough of killing in my life... I abandoned many things in my quest for strength, but I realize now, those ideals I used to live by, they might've been the differences between life and my death," I answered resolutely. And hers, I thought.
He stood there silently, contemplating what I just declared.
"You might be fucked up, but I sense no deception from you. I'll take you along with me for a few things. Maybe even bring you along for a few missions. Before we take off, kid, what's your name? I have two other brats I have to deal with. Calling you 'brat' or 'kid' all the time won't cut it if we're gonna be working together in the future."
"Can I trust you?"
"Fine, be that way kid. I know your type. Name's Qrow. Qrow Branwen. Now, how about you?" he answered me.
"Call me Abel. Abel Brenton."
A/N Welcome to the end of my first chapter of my first fanfiction! I've always wanted to try my hand at this, back when I was reading lots of Naruto fanfiction, but for the life of me couldn't find the power to start one. But here I am!
I was recently pulled into the world of RWBY and I am quite intrigued by it. I can't say I absolutely love everything about it, nor am I super knowledgeable about the lore. So if you guys have any constructive criticism for me, regarding characterization, sentence structure, plot, grammar, etc. feel free to leave a review or PM me.
Please do not flame, because I'd rather have someone tell me that I suck and explain why instead of just attacking me and pointing out the fact that this is bad.
If anyone noticed, I took Raziel from Peter Mohrbacher's Angelarium. Raziel is not my own creation. His artwork is amazing, and I contemplated using a different angel, i.e. Azrael being the angel of death, or even a mythical figure like Hades, I wanted to acknowledge his artwork and use a personal favorite from his world of angels, Raziel, the angel of mysteries. Go check his artwork out! You won't be disappointed. However, this will probably be the only time Raziel or any other supernatural entities appear.
If I do continue this story completely, know that Abel's semblance will be based on another Abel from a different lore. HINT: 76. That's all I'll tell you.
Barloc's name means hope, if I'm not mistaken. He's the opposite of Abel with their viewpoints. Brenton mean's 'Bryni's town', the former meaning 'fire' in Old English.
Destiny is a trademark of Bungie
Until Next Time!
TPF out