What if Ruby and Yang had another sibling? What if they had a secret power they didn't know about and then they found out and came to Beacon? Find out what happens in this new fanfiction! I suck at summaries, please read and review!
Alex Rose
A RWBY Fanfiction by XCVG
Ruby Rose woke up with a start, nearly slamming her head into the ceiling of the airplane as she bolted upright.
"What is it, Ruby?" the white haired woman beside her asked, concerned.
"Weird dream," she answered quietly. "Scary, even. I felt there was me and Yang and then a third person. Like me, but littler, and brown hair. I dunno, I just knew we're all related."
"Weird," Weiss replied drowsily. "But it's just a dream, Ruby."
"It felt real, though," Ruby insisted. "Like a sign or something."
"We're halfway between Atlas and Vale," Weiss reminded her. "There's nothing we can do about it right now."
"I guess." Ruby sighed and lay back down, but sleep did not come easily.
In the middle of nowhere, far away from civilization, a small convoy rumbled through the desert. It consisted of five vehicles, with the forward three in arrowhead formation and the other two behind the middle vehicle.
"Watch your sectors. You don't want to be caught with your pants down out here," Alex advised coldly from her position in the back of the trailing vehicle. The tall woman peered through the computerized sight of her rifle, scanning for threats. As a matter of fact, so was the sight itself. Like everything else on the modern battlefield, it was network, filtering and feeding information to other units.
"I fuckin' hate the Palmira Control Zone," the power-armored marine beside her complained. Nonetheless, he did much the same thing with his own weapon, a lightweight LMG. Between them, a gunner stood with the top of his body above the roof of the vehicle, manning a .50 caliber machine gun.
"Nobody likes the Control Zone," the sniper reminded him. "Between the Grimm, the Fang, and the insurgents-"
"Gunman one-one, be advised, possible hostile activity ahead. Recommend you consider an alternate route, over," a voice buzzed over the radio.
"Ah, fuck."
"The only alternate route is full of Grimm," their driver muttered.
"Uh, Baseplate, what kind of resistance are we looking at?" the commander of the convoy, Lieutenant Commander Carr, inquired.
"Possible rebel or White Fang activity. Force composition is light, force concentration is unknown."
"Negative, baseplate. We will continue along our current path and push through any resistance we encountered. Thanks for the advisement, out."
"I swear to god, fuck the navy if he gets us all killed," the mouthy driver muttered.
"Commander Carr knows what he's doing," Alex reminded them. "Remember this mission is important. Central Command has made that very clear."
The flat desert turned to hills suddenly, with a small shantytown appearing to spontaneously rise from the sand. Though very sparse, it was large enough to make a detour unworkable.
People looked upon the foreign convoy with a mixture of suspicion, fear, and hostility as they rolled into the edge of the town. The arrowhead formation turned into a line as they navigated the streets of the town.
"I didn't realize there was anyone living out here," the driver observed.
Alex replied, "Humanity is remarkably hardy. Apparently it's not that bad out here if you can survive the occasional Grimm attack."
"Is this is a friendly town or a hostile one?" the gunner asked as they entered the crowded streets.
"Well, considering that we-"
"Gunman one-three interrogative, is that a-" The call was cut off by a bright flash from a distant building and and explosion directly in front of the second vehicle in line.
"Weapons free, weapons free!" Commander Carr shouted through the comms. "Push push push! Get out of the killzone!"
Alex aimed her rifle and fired, sending a 6.8mm Dust-enhanced cased telescoping round through a window and the attacker behind it. Above her the gunner opened up with his .50, pouring the powerful rounds into targets highlighted on his HUD. The driver floored it, the powerful turbocharged engine pushing the heavy vehicle quickly up to speed.
"Baseplate, we are taking heavy fire, requesting immediate-" Commander Carr never finished his call. Powerful bullets punched through the armoured windshield of the lead vehicle and his head.
"Who the hell is shooting at us?" the marine in the front of the vehicle asked. "It's the goddamn White Fang, isn't it-"
A series of deafening explosions erupted in front of the convoy, blasting the lead vehicles into scrap metal. The driver of Alex's vehicle swerved hard right, the trailing vehicle following them down a side street. They raced down the street toward the edge of town, gunfire peppering the armored vehicles as they did.
"We're clear. Are we clear?"
"No!" the gunner shouted, spotting a brightly dressed woman with a stupidly large sword standing in front of the remains of the convoy.
"Shit!" The driver swerved hard to the right, avoiding the dangerous warrior. The other vehicle wasn't so lucky, and slammed straight into her outstretched sword. The woman jumped up and dropped something through the turret gunner's hole, leaping off as an explosion ripped through it behind her.
"Fucking kill the fuck out of her!" Alex shouted. She held down the trigger, "Baseplate, we have high-level opposition and need air support now!"
The strange woman transformed her sword into a rocket launcher, swinging it as she did. Three explosive rockets flew from it and slammed into the undercarriage of their vehicle, sending it into the air before landing on its side. Another two hits obliterated half of it, the driver and front passenger along with it.
Alex didn't know how long she spent hanging upside down from her harness in the vehicle, three corpses beside her. The last thing she heard was the sound of helicopter blades before blacking out.
Alex sat across from a man in the uniform of a navy captain. She tried to stay as straight as her throbbing headache and strong painkillers allowed, but was leaning a fair bit compared to her superior officer.
"Your convoy was ambushed and devastated with heavy weapons. By the time elements of the Army brigade combat team arrived, there was nothing left but charred rubble. You were the only survivor, pulled from the twisted wreckage of a JLTV." The Captain tented his fingers. "You should be dead."
She did not reply. There wasn't an answer to that, not one that she had and not one that made a bit of sense.
The Captain continued. "Lieutenant, are you sure your records aren't missing anything? Your family history in particular?"
"No, sir. They are correct to the best of my knowledge," she answered flatly.
"Well, there's a good chance they might be wrong. You have a visitor. Not military, but someone who might be able to shed some light on your situation."
"Atlesian, sir?" she asked, curious.
"No, all the way from Vale, actually." The Captain grabbed his papers and stood. "He's not cleared, by the way, so be careful about what you say."
She knew the drill. "Yes, sir."
The Captain nodded before leaving and allowing another man, dressed in comparatively colorful civilian clothes, to enter the room.
He sat in the same chair, across from Alex. "Hmm... silver eyes."
"Close, but no cigar. Grey, actually," Alex snapped before she could stop herself.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked deliberately.
"No, I've lived under a rock for the past two decades of my life, please explain it to me," Alex said sarcastically. Normally, she was more professional, even to civilians, but she could tell the painkillers were starting to kick in. "You're the headmaster of Beacon Academy."
He took no offence, or at least did an excellent job of hiding it if he did. "That's correct. What if I told you I was offering you a place at my school?"
"Bullshit."
"Why are you so skeptical?"
"With very few exceptions-I can think of one, Blake Belladonna- Beacon candidates come from preparatory schools with years of training," she explained dryly. Wasn't he supposed to be telling her this? "They're the best of the best and they dedicate their lives to it long before "
"Your military training would more than make up for that, I think," the Headmaster insisted. "Besides, there are things to being a huntsman or huntress that mean more than training."
"I don't think you understand what I do. I shoot things- usually other people- from a really fucking long way away. You know what training we have on the kind of fighting you do? If you get into that kind of fight, you're fucked. You're better off turning your gun on yourself than on whatever the hell you're up against."
The Headmaster smiled slightly, amused. "I think you undersell yourself."
"So I survived the impossible. I've manifested superpowers or something. So fucking what?" the woman asked skeptically, crossing her arms. "There's a whole planet of people who can do that. Tons who are military, even. Even if I'm above average, it's still far from huntress level. You're holding something back. What makes me so special that I'm invited to Beacon?"
The headmaster adjusted his glasses. "The genetic tests don't lie, Alex. You have the potential to be one of the most powerful huntresses ever to have lived. You are the sister of Ruby Rose."
"Fuck."
I can't believe I'm doing this, Alex thought to herself. Join the Navy, see the world, they said...
She bounced up and down in her seat as the aircraft passed through a burst of turbulence. Noise from the engine on each wing permeated the cabin. The cabin was fairly spacious, but seemed as if it was deliberately configured to hold fewer passengers in greater comfort than normal. It looked like it could easily carry twenty people instead of eight.
The door to the flight deck was closed, but she assumed there were two pilots in there. There were three other passengers on the plane- two teenagers she only caught a glimpse of at the back of the plane and a young man across from her.
"So they're flying us all the way out to Beacon, but we have to travel like this?" the young man complained dramatically. "Do we get a nice airship like in the streams? A Bullhead? Nope! We're on a piece of shit Viking! Jesus Christ on a pikestaff, if I knew we were going to be-"
"Hey, kid, you ever ride a Valor to an airship in gale-force winds?" Alex snapped. The winds weren't really gale-force, nor was hooking up to an airship anywhere near as bad as it sounded, but she was still on painkillers and she wasn't exactly patient on a good day. "No? Then shut the fuck up. This is first class flying."
"Kid? I'm an adult and I made six figures last year," he shot back. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?"
"What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch?" She pushed up her left sleeve to reveal a very specific tattoo.
He recoiled visibly. "Shit, I'm sorry!"
"It's alright, kid," she said. "Thing about special forces is that we'd suck if we were that obvious."
"Why do you keep calling me kid?"
"Well, you haven't given me a name."
"Neither have you."
"Alex... Alex Rose."
April Fools, everyone. Yes, this fic is a parody, and no, I don't have any plans to continue it.