Hello everyone and welcome to my first RWBY fanfic! :) I've recently gotten back into the show, and with the onset of volume 3, I thought it would be an excellent idea to take a go at the world of Remnant. You might have seen me over in the SAO community. To those fans, I'm not abandoning "Band of Brothers." xD I'm simply trying something new.

Anyways, without further ado: I give you the first chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or the canon characters associated with it. They are owned by Monty Oum (RIP) and RoosterTeeth. I only own the OCs I have created, and even then, they reside in someone else's universe.

Mistral Doughnuts

This story starts, like most stories, on an average day. There was nothing particularly interesting about the day; it was cold, it was chilly, and as familiar to most Mistral dwellers, the wind was blowing at a nearly constant rate. It battered the windows and walls, and reached out across the street to sting the cheeks of a particular young Hunter, fresh from Haven Academy and only two years into life outside of a regulated school wall.

The young man hunched up in his grape-colored vest, a line of thick fur surrounding the collar. It provided an ample defense against the cold when it blew from the side, but it didn't do much when the air decided to go full force directly in the face. His nose was a tomato red that shone like a lightbulb against his pale face, almost green and sickly. Yet, to anyone who knew him, the shaggy, purple-haired mop that was his head somehow managed to keep him warm, long as he kept the dome encircled around his crown—or so he claimed.

His bottom half was actually in better shape. The purple combat trousers acted as a great buffer against the freeze. An interweave consisting of a metallic net, thin twine-like strings designed in a grid, stuck between an extremely smooth silk and tough leather kept the heat within his thighs. A single stripe of dark red ran down the outer side of his left leg, fusing with magenta boots. There was a small blotch of dirt that sorta stuck out, though he hoped nobody noticed.

Heading towards the towering skyscraper in front of him, the Hunter paused for a moment to raise his head up the eighty story building. This was Torque Towers, a symbol of strength within Mistral. Its emblem of dominance, a cursive T in the center of a golden circle and surrounded by two crashing waves, slamming into each other and then rebounding in a crescent the other way, shone at the top. The funny thing was, he knew who designed that, and it was kinda cool to see it standing proudly above the clouds.

The man walked towards the security checkpoint past the front door. He waved hello to an officer dressed very similarly like him. The only difference was instead of a purple undershirt of stretchy polymer, the other had a black undershirt of stretchy polymer.

"Hey Dimitryus," said the officer, "How's your day? I'm gonna need your vest."

"My nose is still red," the Hunter answered with a laugh. He handed over the item, and leaned on the counter where his friend, a male around his age with a neat military crew cut, manned the security booth. "So I'm guessing it's pretty good."

"Have you tried wearing a hoodie?" A responding giggle came from a female officer a station down. Apparently she thought it was hilarious that his red-nosed friend was freezing to death. "What? It's a good idea!"

"I keep telling you guys," Dimitriyus chuckled lightly, "the hair keeps everything fine. It's like an extra blanket up there."

"Sure it does. Now your ID." His friend snorted in disbelief.

Dimitryus offered out his card, and the officer swiped it on the computer monitor in front of him, scanning the barcode for a match. He meticulously looked over the picture, compared it to the face in front of him, and read the name out loud. "Dimitryus Vudkar, is that your name?"

"Yes it is Terrance. And it's Vud—like mud except with a V—not Vood." He rolled his light purple eyes and annoyance peaked through the smile. "Seriously dude, we do this everyday I come in for work. You should know me by now."

"Sorry," Terrance apologized. He returned the card and waved Dimitry through the dust detector. "Security regulations has stepped up since the White Fangs began attacking Schnee dust. Commander Zion wants everything checked. Now in you go. Any dust that needs to be declared?"

"Ugh, fine. I can't blame him I guess. Everything's getting all intense lately." The laid back Hunter nodded and proceeded forwards as he was told. The dust detector was like a normal metal detector, except for the additional micro scan for dust particles, whether powder or solid, within weapons and clothing. They could never be too careful.

"I declare the dust in my weapons. You know, the one I've shown to you, everyday?"

"Cut the sarcasm Dimitry," the female from before hollered over at him. "And cut my brother some slack. He's just doing his job."

"Right right, sorry Terra!" He inclined his head and laughed nervously. Couldn't argue with that. "Next time, I'll give you an entire report!"

"Shut up, Dimitry!"

Purple hair shook with mirth, and he looked over at Terrance. His friend examined the readings for a few seconds before nodding. "The usual numbers. You're good to go, bud. Oh, and make sure to check the employee room. I heard someone bought doughnuts."

"Maybe later," Dimitry answered.

He waved farewell and reached over to the conveyor belt to grab his vest. Dusting it a few times Dimitry stepped up to the second checkpoint; this time, instead of his clothing, his weapons were asked for. This was actually part of company protocol. Every Hunter needed his weapons in top condition. It didn't hurt either when free repairs come from the armory too—oh, and upgrades! Dimitry wondered if he was due for another diagnostic. His Bacchus Boon gauntlets haven't been amply enhanced since his last mission.

"Run a thorough check," he advised the officer. "Make sure that dust hydraulic is working. I've been having issues with control. See if that's the problem." With that, he headed to the last checkpoint where a floating metallic orb greeted him.

"Hey, hey! What's up Marie? Long time no see!"

The green eyepiece at the center of the drone blinked twice in affirmation. A voice emanated from its top speaker, and the quad lasers, two on each side, wiggled. "Dimitry! How'd you know it was me today? I could've been assigned to the civilian lane."

"You paint your Ess-Eee green with a yellow star." He pointed out the obvious color choice that covered the right cannons. "Nobody else does that."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you to notice!" The girl who manned the machine squealed from behind her monitor, situated ten floors up. She, with the rest of the SE Overwatch team—or teams since there were sixteen of them—ran the bots that kept an "eye" over all of the building. It was pretty boring work and comparable to watching images on a camera, but sometimes, a nice person happened along and complimented her on her color scheme.

"Did you try the doughnuts? Mine's strawberry filled! Ooh, it's so good!"

"Haha, bet it is. I'll have to get one later. Commander wants me to meet him though. Make sure to save me one."

He spread out his arms and waited as the machine emitted a green light, an optic scanned that once again looked for trace amounts of dust as well as other secret evil weapons he may have hidden away. With the folding technology found in Remnant, anything could be used to kill people. After the initial scan, another occurred; the bot zoomed in on his eyes to check his retina. This was by far the worst one in his opinion.

"All done!" Marie said through her robotic mouthpiece. "And sure! Good luck with the Commander. I saw him today. He looked pretty stressed out. Best not to push his buttons."

"I think I know why," Dimitry answered knowingly. He winked at the eyepiece as his friend let him through. With one last wave, he was finally free to walk across the pristine silver-gray walls of the Torque Towers lobby. He stuck his hand into his pockets, approaching the elevator at a casual stroll. Pushing the up button, he waited for his turn. The box soon arrived, and he had to laugh at the colorful emblem that adorned its surface.

"Ah, Tina," he said, wiping a tear from his face. "This is why your dad is so stressed." Right in front of him, in colors of blue, seafoam green, and varying shades of teal and turquoise, was the the Torque-T. The only major difference was the dark blue dolphin that curved around the top.

"How does he deal with you four?"

"He doesn't," an amiable voice answered him. The elevator doors slid open to reveal a young man with flat, cerulean hair that came down around his head and created a short v-shaped peak at the center of his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. He shook his hair and blew loose strands out of the way. "I'm sure he's noticed by now, but if there's one thing dad's good at, it's letting Tina do her art. Though I must say, the dolphin is excessive."

"Even by your standards?" Dimitry smirked and poked the younger fellow in the chest. He stepped in and pressed number seventy-five.

"Even by mine." There was a laugh, and a few moments of companionable silence overtook them. That was until the boy offered him a cardboard box, the top one of three, he held in his hands. "Doughnuts?"

"Hell, why not?"

The Hunter rolled his eyes and selected a delectable looking one, iced over with pink and dotted with rainbow sprinkles. He never told anyone, but sweets were his one mighty weakness. He just resisted since it messed up with his workout routine.

"Thanks, Tommy," he said to the kid and munched down. "Wow, that's actually pretty good. Who got these? And where? Did Mistral suddenly have delicious food?"

"Oh come on," Tommy said with fake hurt. "I'll have you know that I make amazing peanut butter and jam sandwiches."

"Really? I thought Tina did!" Dimitry clutched his head dramatically. "I've been lied to."

"Yes you have. And it was Ted. He used dad's money to buy a bunch of doughnuts. I'm sure you've heard by now. All the workers are getting some when they have free time, even you bigshot agents."

"You're hilarious." The man rolled his eyes and smirked teasingly. He watched the numbers climb as the elevator worked its way upwards. "So where are you headed? Weren't you just up there?"

"Yep!" Tommy answered. He went quiet as the doors opened to greet another worker. "Hey, uh… Thoron, was it?" The new person nodded with a kind smile. "Care for a doughnut?"

"I'd love one." There was another happy munch to Tommy's ecstatic ears, and he watched with giddy joy. Another person had eaten his doughnuts! Awesome! Oooh, he knew this would make people smile.

"Okay, what's going on here, Tommy?" Dimitry pressed. He definitely didn't miss the wide grin. "Those things aren't layered with explosive dust, are they?"

"No no! They're genuine, even if Ted was the one to get them. No, I'm just going up and down the elevator and offering people food. The rest I have stacked up in my room. Ted couldn't fit them all in his."

The teen chuckled, remembering how his brother had rapped his door on the seventy-sixth floor and brandished the boxes upon boxes of doughnuts like they were Christmas presents. He had opened his arms and wiggled them in comedic excitement when he pointed out the two carts of doughnuts he had brought up stairs, stacked to the rim with boxes.

"How much did you buy?" the Hunter asked incredulously, "That's like… a lot!"

"Enough to give every worker three," he recalled. "And our dad gets two dozen. Haha, don't tell him that. That's a surprise." Another ding! and more people got on. Tommy's face lit up; immediately, he offered out more doughnuts.

Dimitry was aghast. Holy cow. He knew that the kids were rich, loaded even, but he didn't know they had spare money to just go and buy hundreds of doughnuts at will. Seriously, what was their allowance? Sure, having your dad own a major international security company gave you privileges, but this—this was mad! His childhood was never this good.

The man felt a twinge of jealousy take over his chest. Quickly, he banished it away.

It wasn't like the kid was being all arrogant about it. In fact, the Torque Quadruplets—as they were called as a whole by everyone in the company—were by far the nicest, and best rich kids he's ever met; and he's met the Schnee's once at one of their parties. Torque Securities (that's the company by the way) had been hired for a routine assignment, and Dimitry personally escorted their snotty daughter, Weiss, around. Man, she was so annoying.

"Alright, I'm afraid to ask," he began when they finally reached the seventieth floor with yet another batch of people getting on the elevator. By now, Tommy almost ran out of doughnuts. "Where are the other three?"

"Well let's see." Tommy frowned and tried to remember where he last saw his clones. "Ted was in his room counting up the boxes again. He wanted to make sure everyone had enough. Tyson was up in the training room practicing, and Tina was in her room. She's working on a new motto for the company while simultaneously trying to learn oragami."

"Really?" Dimitry asked. Wow, he thought they would all be out and about. "What's wrong with our old one?"

"Dad thinks it's a little bland."

Tommy dropped the now empty boxes of doughnuts as they finally reached floor seventy-five. He brushed crumbs off his white buttoned shirt; some of the pieces were attached to the raised collar around his neck. Frowning, he also noticed that the cerulean edges, which matched his eyes, were slightly wrinkled and even his cuffs appeared messy.

Nuts, he should've changed outfits.

At least his trousers were still good. They were the same ones that Dimitry wore, except colored white with a cerulean stripe running down the side. A thin sash—guess what color?—adorned his hip with the loose end showing the Torque tidal wave. His shirt was tucked into his pants and held up by a white belt that was hidden under the velvet piece, the official sign of his office at Torque Securities. Each of the quadruplets wore a sash, colored differently of course, that announced their position within the company. Plus, it was hella stylish.

But don't tell anyone he thinks that.

"In my opinion though," Tommy continued, "It is pretty old. 'Security for the ages.' Doesn't roll off the tongue anymore. That's why Tina's putting her creative skills to the test."

"Well, if you want my opinion," the Hunter agreed, "It is pretty lame. Just don't tell your father that."

The teen laughed and nodded. He made an X over his heart to make the solemn promise between men. "I promise. Anyways, I'll see you around Dimitry. I've got to grab more boxes."

"Alright, I'll see ya. Don't overdo it, or else the others will grow large. Wouldn't want to slow them down!" He laughed and exited the elevator, watching the teen give a thumbsup. Then the colorful dolphin descended downwards and reminded him why he was here. Straightening his vest, Dimitry made his way across the room where computer screens and open air desks formed rows. Finally at the back, he knocked on a wooden door.

"Dimitryus Vudkar, sir," he announced, a bit nervously. This was going to be the second time he was face to face with the owner and commander of Torque Securities. The first was when he saw him through a video message, asking him follow a simple set of instructions. Now he was here to tell the big guy that he had done as he was asked.

There were all sorts of rumors that floated around about Zion Torque. Some said he was eccentric; others said he was stern and demanding. And still some, like his children, said he was a big softie who knew when to joke and laugh. Dimitry didn't know which one was true, but he really hoped it was the second one. He wasn't looking to get fired today for something stupid he let slip from his mouth.

"You may all leave now," the man inside said, and the shuffling of feet, papers, and other devices, could be heard. Dimitry swallowed and moved out of the way as a bunch of technicians, analysts and other smart people exited in bunched up groups. A few were whispering to each other, giving him cursory looks, and one even seemed dead tired; the female leaned hard against her friend.

"Come in," said a deep voice, dry and nearly humorless to his ears. He nodded a few times and entered the office.

It was an expansive room, and every wall was a floor to ceiling one-way mirror of clear, crystalline glass. On the right was a rectangular mahogany desk where folders, papers, and other important document resided in neat stacks. There was a closed laptop charging next to it, and set of white fluorescent lights were embedded above in the ceiling. In front of the desk, in the middle of the room, was a long oval meeting desk with about a dozen and a half wheeled chairs pushed respectfully in. There were additional smaller tablets spread out evenly around the circumference. At the head of the table sat Commander Zion, face in his hands and a mighty yawn on his lips.

"Oh my," he said in a muffled voice, "I'm sorry Dimitryus, but I'm so terribly tired. With all of this White Fang business, and the threat of Grimm at different borders, I've barely had time to nap."

He straightened out and then stood up, a smile creasing his face. "But where are my manners? Nice to meet you in person." Offering a hand, the stunned Hunter quickly took it.

"The pleasure's all mine, sir."

"Enough with the sir," Zion said quickly. "Zion or Commander is fine. I've had enough of pleasantries from the peanut gallery. The outreach department is probably the worst."

He rolled his eyes and straightened out his turquoise trimmed, white steampunk-styled long coat. It had a Gothic long tail that ran to the back of his legs and matched with his trousers of similar color. A row of five gold buttons ran down his torso and connected the cloth design underneath the two lapels. His shoulders were slim and fit, showing the powerful physical condition that the man was in, minus the stress. His feet conforming sneakers, lightweight and agile, matched the color scheme of his top.

Presently, his weapon of choice, the Eagle Wing, a folded up fan for all Dimitry could see, was slung on his back. The guy winced at such an uncomfortable position, yet the Commander seemed perfectly at ease. He now unbuttoned his coat and sat back down.

"Ahh," Zion groaned. He shook his head. "I thought that would feel better, but apparently not. Now, sit Dimitry, sit. Don't stand there gaping." Chuckling a bit, the six foot ten boss ran a hand through his turquoise trimmed hair, dulled by streaks of gray. "Did you do what I told you?"

Dimitry instantly nodded. He sat down and pulled out a vanilla envelope of considerable size from within his vest. Yet as the commander watched, he saw a stiffness to the boy's back that was uncalled for. And he thought he was stressed.

"Commander," the Hunter began, "This what I gathered from my trip to Vale. Everything was completed per your request. It seems that the return was also very quick. I didn't actually expect that."

He slid the envelope over to where Zion could reach it. The word Torque was written in cursive on the front, and on the back was a seal; a pair of crossing axes and laurel leaves was covered over by a name that was famous for creating the best Hunters and Huntresses in all of Remnant.

Beacon Academy.

"Thank you, Dimitry. How did my old friend Ozpin take the news?"

Inside the envelope were four identical looking, smaller, white envelopes with the same cursive writing in the front. The names of his children, Tyson, Tommy, Ted, and Tina, stared back at him in silent apprehension. There was a fifth envelope that had his name, and he opened it up to read the contents. Every now and again, he would nod his head, smirk, or otherwise drum his fingers on the table. Finally, as if it was the most important thing to do, Zion scratched at the seal in the back, seeing if it was smelly or not.

Unfortunately, it was not.

Sigh. What a shame.

"I actually didn't talk to Ozpin. He couldn't make it, so instead, I got a nice little chat with Glynda Goodwitch." Dimitry chuckled and his eyes tilted up in memory. "It was a fun little chat, though I don't think she liked me very much."

"Don't tell me you tried to flirt with her." Zion looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Glynda isn't one to take such comments so easily. Tell me you didn't cause a ruckus. We still have a reputation as a company to uphold."

"W-what? No no. I said one comment, and… that was that. No problem at all. She took it rather well, actually. You should've seen her blush."

"You should have seen you blush." The commander chuckled as a very deep scarlet hue rose to the cheeks of his subordinate, matching the color of his nose so much that he was now simply a red, beating tomato.

"Just now—you looked like Ted after asking another girl out. That kid, he does not know when to stop." There was a sigh and a head shake. At this rate, his wife would have to start readying their wedding outfits. That young one had dated at least ten girls the past month, and Tommy said that wasn't even record.

Zion didn't want to know what the record was.

"Oh, haha. Well I wouldn't say it was like that. I like to think I'm a bit more… keen than Ted."

"Let's hope so. Go on, what then? I want a detailed sitrep."

"Nothing else. Glynda—"

"—I think that's Professor to you," Zion teased. A merry twinkle danced in his eyes. "Okay okay. I'm sorry. Go on." He returned to reading the response from Ozpin to his own letter he sent a few weeks back.

Unfortunately, Dimitry really couldn't go on. Several times in the past couple minutes, a man whom he was completely nervous about meeting, had not only cracked jokes, casually talked about flirting, but was now apologizing to him?

He knew that his record was good—he never missed a day of work, completed all assignments efficiently, and had zero casualties so far (knock on wood)—but to be treated with such respect from the top man? That was practically unheard of. Companies of this size shouldn't have bosses with such friendly faces. In fact, he should be peeing his pants right now, but somehow, he felt the calmest he's felt since becoming a Hunter.

"Uh… right. I… uh… sorry, I lost my train of thought there." The purple-haired man laughed and shook his head to clear away all the anxiety he had. He was a Hunter after all. He couldn't just get nervous when superstition and stories filled his head. "I got a tour of the school just like you asked, and yes, before you laugh, it was from Glynda."

"My my, I wasn't going to laugh. Mighty lucky of you. Continue."

"Well, everything looks good on the outside. There's a long avenue from the airship dropout zone to the school, pretty far stretch that does appear to be too open. I'm sure they can make it defensible, but I don't like the way there's direct line of sight to the building."

Dimitry was now talking in his serious tone, the one he used when debriefing his team members on their missions. As head of team DINO, he took great responsibility in learning his environment. This was another company requirement. Security meant defense, and you couldn't have good defense without knowing the terrain. From the sound of things, there appeared to be a straight path down which enemies could march.

"There's lots of green space, and the setup is like that of concentric rings. There are several ponds that ring the building with paths along them. Plenty of night light, of course, which is very lucky. Spires and arches are the main architectural style, and everything past the water has plenty of cover. I also got to explore the Emerald Forest—plenty of stray Grimm—and the Beacon Cliffs. That's where the students begin initiation."

"What occurs during initiation?"

"They," Dimitry said slowly, wondering how he was going to break the news to a caring father. Best if he ripped the bandage of nice and quick. "They get launched out from pads and sent flying into the forest."

"Where the Grimm are?"

"Uh… yes… exactly where they Grimm are."

Zion raised his other eyebrow and chuckled. "My children aren't saplings, Dimitryus. They can handle themselves, though I appreciate the rapid way you said that last part. Almost didn't catch it. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, Commander. There's a port too, so I'm guessing naval travel is allowed."

"Have you checked it out? How wide? Can, say, an entire armada of White Fangs enter to slaughter the children?"

"Uh…" Wow, what a blunt, yet sarcastic question. He didn't know how to answer that. "I… don't think so sir. Maybe one or two ships at most, and I'm sure it's heavily watched." There was the worried father that he was looking for. It wasn't going to be easy sending your kids away from home.

"I'm sorry," Zion sighed and ran another hand through his hair. He looked steadily at Dimitry. "You'll understand when you have kids. I wanted them to go to a good school, and Ozpin has this… way about him that I like a bit more than the Haven teachers. I just can't seem to shake the feeling that something is bound to happen when those kids go gallivanting into Vale."

"I'm sure they'll be just fine sir. There are hunters all over to protect them."

"I know, I know. Please go on. Tell me about the insides."

"Yes Commander. The mess hall appears fine. There's plenty of space to eat, airy, and with lots of lighting. Classrooms are standard seminar-styled rooms with tiered seating. There's also an amphitheater which doubles as mission center and dueling arena, a ballroom, and the usual conveniences for all schools. Particularly interesting though, now that I remember, is the CCT. Big tower right on campus. The quadruplets can easily call you from there."

He recalled the area after asking Glynda about it. He even got an inside tour, but it was just like your average comm towers. Nothing too different from those he was sure Zion had seen.

"And the dorms?" At this, the commander set aside the letter he's read over twice already and fully focused on Dimitry. This was the biggest concern he had out of everything. He was certain the school had defensive capabilities, else it would be a pretty cruddy school. He was also sure that the kids could find a way to set up the usual security measures for themselves: motion sensors, SE drones, and the likes.

What he wasn't sure about was the situation of the rooms.

"Are they co-ed?" he asked, wanting to hear from the horse's mouth the dire situation of things.

Dimitry seemed to get the hint and tried to contain his laughter since he knew that, yes, yes they were. That was all Zion needed to slump wearily into his chair.

"I'm going to need a day off after this…" Sighing once again, the Torque glared at the acceptance letters within their envelopes. Great, and he had specifically asked Ozpin for that favor too. Just great. "So I'm going to have to worry about Ted again, aren't I?"

"I'm sure he knows how to control himself," Dimitry said with a choke of laughter bubbling in his throat. There was clear uncertainty in the boss' eyes. "Okay, perhaps you should give him a stern warning."

"I'll certainly do that. Good grief. Is there any other news I should worry about, or can I go get myself a doughnut? And yes, I know who bought them, that little rascal." The exhausted adult stood up, and the Hunter quickly did the same.

"There's nothing else, Commander. All forms are in order, passports for the transfer, boarding, and payment is all taken care of. I have the paper receipt attached for you in the envelope. It should detail everything. Your children are ready to go to Beacon."

"Thank you Dimitry," Zion replied, holding out a hand. He firmly gripped the purple-haired man with a proud nod. "Thank you for doing this. Did you also do the other thing I asked you?"

"Yes. Your brother talked to me. He's got everything set up at Signal. I start tomorrow."

"Good. Then good luck to you, my friend. Remember, once a week."

"Of course. Once a week."

With a final nod and shake of their hands, Dimitry left the office. He breathed out carefully and smiled. That went a whole lot better than he expected. Chalk that up for another successful mission. The man with the purple hair and purple outfit retreated back across the aisle and towards the elevator door. His thumb pressed the down button, and in a minute, the familiar dolphin rose up from the earth. The smile widened as he got back on, punching in the G button to go all the way back down.

From there, he would take a separate stairway, pass through three more checkpoints, before descending into the armory and basement, as well as the pool and other recreational training areas. He approached the secretary at the desk, got her to release his freshly repaired weapons, and then grabbed his gear, a purple and red backpack that he had packed the other night.

Then, with a smile and a wave to his friends, Dimitry exited Torque Towers. Taking one last look at the mighty T and tidal waves, he bit into a sugar doughnut and glanced at the building. The sweet clump slid down his throat as a thought struck him. It would be a while before he could see it again, feel the sting of the Mistral wind, and breathe the crisp afternoon air. Saluting forlornly, he turned his back to the company and to the kingdom he called his home.

He really would miss this ice ball.

Him and the rest of his team.

Well? How'd you guys like it? :3

This is the first chapter of a two part prologue. I will be trying to follow closely the world that Monty Oum so arduously created. Although this fanfic is OC-centric, canon characters will make appearances, and quite often too. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to review!