"Regardless of your vices." The voice continued, calming to its usual formality and stiff elegance. "You are different from the rest. Your ability to survive is strong. Your affinity to slaying them is insurmountable. They are rage. Brutal. Without mercy. But even to them. You will be worse. The "Angel of Death". That is what they called you, isn't it?"

Instead of pride, Branson felt revulsion course through him.

With it, he found the motivation to draw Bloodhound and point it off to his side. Its size and shape was comparable to a katana, with the only distinction being the dirk-like point. Along the back of the blade, a bolt and barrel shorter than the blade was attached.

The timing was coincidental; as he lowered the blade, four Beowolves had climbed each corner of the roof. They bore grins of razor-sharp teeth, claws curled and bared, and bodies ready to spring on their newfound prey. But neither their stances or growls reached Branson's constitution. He stood there with closed eyes and a hard frown, choosing to pay more attention to the spiritual than the physical.

"This is your fault." His voice was soft and cold. There was a twitch of his sword hand and, in response, the Alpha of the pack raised up.

"It is." The voice answered, unrepentant and anticipating.

Branson's mouth curled, exposing the teeth in a feral snarl. He swung around to meet a leaping Alpha, balling his free hand into a fist. His uppercut crashed into the underside of the demon's chin, barely keeping its open maw from closing around his flesh. Aura triggered the flechette launcher, spitting seven Dust dart-like projectiles into the throat. Force and momentum threw the Alpha into the air and, a second after, the flechettes detonated. The resulting explosion destroyed both the head and a large part of the torso. What was left of its body crashed down to the ground, completely disintegrating a second later.

The underlings responded without hesitation, rushing on all fours at their target. One of them let out a roar as it got close, jumping off the roof's surface and lunging.

Branson pulled his sword arm back and extended his free hand out to the lunging Beowulf. The two lead fingers on his free hand served as a brief iron sight, his other hand pulling the trigger. The shot's recoil made the sword swing back. But it was accurate, piercing the front of the monster's head and gruesomely blowing out the back. The swing, driven by recoil, vertically sliced through the head and body of the third wolf.

He did not strike down the survivor. Instead, he turned and ran off the roof. Rushing winds smacked him in the face, but he kept squinted eyes open as he descended to the ground. He heard the angry roar of the wolf, followed by its own leap off. But his gaze was focused on an Ursa Major, whose beady eyes had zeroed in on him.

As it raised its claw, he pointed his free fist and fired seven more flechettes into the bear's face. A few of them met its eyes. In its throes and roars of pain, it dropped its paw.

Branson twisted his body to land feet-first on the Ursa's head, then leaped off in a back-flip. His boots and his jump height barely kept the following explosion from consuming his legs. It boosted him higher, allowing him to meet the falling wolf head-on. A backhand swing cut the demon in two, its remnants collapsing in sync with the bear's and Branson's form. Unlike them, he would land on his feet and straighten back up.

A series of growls and snarls caught his attention. He looked around, glaring at a scattered but large number of wolves and Creeps moving into surround him. They outnumbered him greatly, resembling a small army more than a simple pack. His anger pushed away his anxiety, and he gripped Bloodhound in two hands. The blood and adrenaline coursing through his veins was at an all-time high, with every part of him demanding that he fight.

"But," He declared, brandishing his sword threateningly and glaring at the monsters. "You all are gonna be the ones who'll pay!"

Greetings! Welcome to my first story of the RWBY category!

If you've made it down to the bottom and read every bit of this piece, thank you very much for showing interest! This is nothing but a teaser, but the final version will be finished soon enough. All that's left to do is revise my rough draft, convert it into a finalized version and then publish it. In the meantime, don't hesitate to tell me what you think. I encourage constructive criticism - just, don't be a jerk about it. No one likes a party pooper.

After the first chapter's officially published, I'll have some questions to throw out to you concerning potential ideas and concepts. As thoughtful as I try to be about my works, it's always a big help to hear input from my readers. Feel free to throw out your ideas, but please PM me about it. I'd like to keep the review section of my stories contained with just that - reviews.

Thank you and good night!

-Gwyn Walker (Chescoke483)