Welcome to my RWBY story! This will follow team CNFR (pronounced conifer) through their time training to be Huntresses and their adventures outside of school. The first four chapters will be "trailer" chapters, featuring a single member for each chapter. I'm not going to focus too much on the team meeting each other or being introduced because the original show clearly spends enough time on it, and to be honest, it can be boring; that being said, each character will have backstories, and you will most likely see them in their early stages of team development. This story will mainly feature OCs, with a couple canon characters, though they will mainly be teachers. Older teams, such as team CFVY, will have a better chance of appearing, but RWBY, JNPR, etc. won't be mentioned a lot as team CNFR consists of older members.
Please review, follow, and favorite if you like the story. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but please don't be rude.
Disclaimer: I do not own RWBW or any of its characters. This story is purely for entertainment.
XXX
"C"
The half-shattered moon shone dimly in the night sky above her as she stood looking out from the cliff. Far below were the main docks of the city. Mistral had a few significant ports, but this one was often the most busy. Tonight, however, the docks were all but silent. So far, no movement caught her eye, no ripples disturbed the water. It would have been a perfectly peaceful night if the young woman didn't know better.
She'd already been waiting close to an hour. She crossed her arms, ignoring the frigid winds that created goosebumps along her skin. Her blue jacket and duster kept out most of the cold, but Mistral winds could get very chilly. It was a wonder she knew what the sun was.
A tiny dark shape moved out of the shadows and onto the dock, catching the young woman's eye. It stopped abruptly for a second, and then it was suddenly joined by about five other dark shapes. Her fingers curled around the metal hoops hanging on her belt. She took a breath, pulled her hood over her head, then ran forward and jumped off the cliff, disappearing below.
Six men wandered along the docks, each armed with guns in hand and knives at their belts. One of them lead the others, a slightly younger man, probably in his twenties, holding a large gun against his shoulder as he turned to the five other men behind him.
"Alright, the crates are here. Call the guys and tell them to bring the truck around," the man said, "Then load the weapons so we can get out of here." The men nodded, mumbling under their breaths about the cold, and started unloading the crates. The young leader watched them, brushing aside a strand of copper hair with one hand while swinging the gun around on his fingers with another, as if it weighed less than a twig.
The young woman wove in and out of the alleyways created by the large shipping crates and warehouses along the pier. She ducked around a corner, peering out at the figures shuffling through the opened crates. Slowly and silently, Cerulean unfastened one of the metallic circles from her belt, feeling the razor-edged blades snap out. She spun the chakram around her finger, its speed increasing, and then snapped her wrist, the circular weapon flying toward the men on the docks. It whistled through the air and sliced one of the figure's chest just as he turned at the noise. He let out a brief cry of pain before falling to his knees. Cerulean leapt upwards, grabbing the chakram in midair as it flew back, and snapped another chakram out, facing the men that looked at her then, each with an enraged expression and an aimed gun. Except for one.
The decently dressed, presumably leader took a few steps forward, eyeing the girl. She gripped her weapons tighter, expecting him to say something. But he just gave a nod, and the five other men around him rushed forward and fired their guns. Cerulean ran, dodging out of the way of the bullets, sliding off the crates, and landing in front of the armed men. Giving a tiny smirk, she lunged forward, her chakrams colliding with the gun of one of the men. Grunting, the man tried shoving her away. Cerulean fell backwards, rolling on the hard ground before springing up, and slashing furiously with her chakrams. The man with the gun dropped like a rock, knocking the man behind him off his feet.
"Hey!" Cerulean turned at the voice, only to have her head snapped back from a blunt object smashing into her face. She groaned, pressing her back to one of the crates and glaring at her attacker. The man grinned, aiming at her heart, and pulled the trigger on his gun. Cerulean pushed off just as the bullet ricocheted off the crate into the opposite direction and connected her two chakrams, watching as they unfolded into their new form. Raising the crossbow at her assailant, she fired two explosive rounds in his direction. The man moved to the side, completely avoiding the first round, but seemed to have forgotten the second as it struck him, sending him flying back.
Who's next? Cerulean thought as she briskly straightened herself into a defensive pose. A large shape lurched forward, and the girl took a step back, sizing up her new foe. He was much larger than the previous men, with a muscular build and a sword at his side. If she kept him at a fair distance, or even better, knocked him off his feet, she could hopefully fire enough rounds to finish him off. She aimed at his head, the man grinning the entire time, then, just before she pulled the trigger, she changed her aim, her weapon now pointing at where the man's feet were, before firing. Chunks of asphalt flew everywhere, and judging by the man's surprised yell, some had hit him. Cerulean lifted a hand to cover her face from the dust spewing from the impact.
The dust began to clear just seconds later, and Cerulean lowered her hand, narrowing her eyes in the darkness. She gripped the handle of her crossbow, kicking some pebbles away as she looked around. The wind was roaring, blowing strands of brown hair into her eyes. She took a cautious step forward, raising her crossbow, just as a dark form rushed toward her and slammed a fist into her side. She flew to the side, losing her grip on her weapon and rolling to a painful stop. The hulking man from before approached her, and Cerulean's hand darted to her side only to realize that her crossbow lay nearly ten feet away. A flash of silver caught her eye, and something metal prodded her neck.
"Nice try, Miss Tricky," the man sneered, his sword tickling her neck. She grimaced, trying not to show her anger and frustration. Her hand skimmed the ground beside her, trying to find something to throw or hit the guy with to distract him. The man didn't seem to notice, or care, and he grinned evilly, the sword staying perfectly pointed at the center of Cerulean's throat. "Hey boss! What do we do about this?" Footsteps echoed throughout the dockyard, and Cerulean could make out the faint shape of a leaner, more finely dressed man. He appeared younger than most of the men she had fought, but he carried himself with authority. He peered at Cerulean, standing just a few feet behind the hulking monster of a man, fixing a black glove with a half-amused, half-curious expression.
"I assume some rag-tag, Huntress-wannabe, vigilante?" he drawled, twirling a large ring around his finger. Cerulean kept her mouth shut, one hand closing around a stray chunk of asphalt, and shifted her weight, trying to create even the tiniest bit of distance between the sword and her neck. The leader's eyes darted over to her weapon, lying pitifully on the ground. He frowned. "What's that supposed to be exactly?" The other man shifted his gaze, looking to where her crossbow lay, giving Cerulean the second she needed to act. She hurled the chunk of rock in her hand, not even waiting to see if it had hit, before sprinting to her weapon. Her hand flung out, ready to grab it, when she heard a click behind her. She dropped to the ground just as a round exploded above her. Her hand closed around the crossbow handle and she turned, firing three rounds in succession. The muscular man lunged to block her rounds from reaching the other man, using his sword as a shield. Cerulean watched the rounds bounce off in varying directions with distaste. He must be the boss, she thought to herself sourly.
"Well, this has been fun!" the young boss huffed, laughing at the end. Cerulean's grimace deepened, and her finger tightened around the trigger, aiming her weapon again. The man's laugh dropped off into a frown, narrowing his eyes at the girl opposite him, before nodding to his henchman. The man switched his grip on the sword, then ran towards Cerulean. Cerulean backed up, snapping her crossbow back into her chakrams just as the man reached her and slashed his machete forward. Cerulean cried out, springing backwards as the silver blade cut through the air. The man didn't stop, lurching forward with each swipe of his blade. Cerulean ducked and dodged, trying to escape the swarm of sharpened metal. Growling, the man moved again, aiming high above her head, ready to stab downwards. Taking the opportunity, Cerulean slide beneath the sword and ran her own blades from the man's torso to his back. He fell to his knees, howling in pain, and turned, making one last attempt to strike her. Cerulean slammed one of her chakrams forward, a sharp clang ringing out as it clashed with the sword and stopped it in mid-descent. The man turned his head, glaring at Cerulean, who gave a rare grin in reply, before slashing her last chakram across the man's back and shoving him to the ground. He groaned before he hit the pavement with a thud. He didn't get back up, but Cerulean made sure the cuts weren't deep; he'd be fine. The young woman backed up, wiping sweat from her brow and lowering her weapons to her side.
Something whistled behind her, the high pitched sound of metal being drawn, and Cerulean spun around swiftly, holding her chakram in front of her in a defensive position just as a thin sword hit the weapon. Cerulean narrowed her eyes. A mere six feet away stood the young leader, one hand on a gun, the other holding the handle of the rapier connected with her chakram. He grinned at her, a devious, cat-like smile playing on his lips.
"That was entertaining!" he remarked, his eyes glancing at his fallen comrade. Cerulean narrowed her eyes further and she bared her teeth. "No, I'm being quite serious! You're very talented. And resourceful, using your surroundings as distractions and what not. Though, to be fair, you weren't up against the most competent of foes."
"Maybe you should surround yourself with smarter lackeys then," the girl growled. The man smiled, but gazed at her with a thoughtful expression.
"You seem familiar," he mused.
"Do you often meet hooded, mysterious people by the docks?" she mocked. "I doubt we've met." At that his eyes met hers, narrowing in thought.
"Who are you?" he asked, his tone hardening. Cerulean stiffened and lowered her eyes.
"Sorry. That's all the time we have for questions," she said quickly, dropping down low and kicking the man's legs from under him. His eyes widened a fraction before he fell, the gun falling out of his hand. Cerulean grabbed his shoulder and pinned him to the ground with her left hand, her right pushing against the man's sword, still poised defensively. Gritting her teeth, the girl tried moving her chakram around the sword, but even with one hand free, the man was surprisingly adept at maneuvering the weapon, cutting her off each time she moved the slightest inch. A soft glow began emanating from the sword, shining light blue. He's using Dust, Cerulean realized in shock. The sword must be infused with Dust! She grunted, knowing there was no time to run far away enough. Only one idea popped into her head, and though it wasn't a good one, it was all she could do. She pulled both arms back and let her weapons fall to the ground, her hands now free. The man's eyes widened, clearly not having expected a surrender from her, and he began to lower the sword. His knuckles whitened as he poised the rapier, ready to strike her. Breathing softly, Cerulean shifted backwards, as if she were moving away, then shot forward and smashed a fist into the face of her adversary. Eyes rolling back, the man slumped backwards onto the ground, his body limp and his weapons strewn around him. Cerulean hopped onto her feet, quickly moving away from the unconscious body lying before her. She ran a hand through her hair, breathing heavily, staring off into space for a few moments.
10 minutes later, Cerulean was back on the cliff, sitting on a bench as she tried to relax. The police had just arrived, receiving an "anonymous" call saying that a group of men were at the docks and stealing the newly shipped weapons, and that they had attacked someone. The caller had even mentioned that more men may have arrived later on. There was a little bit of a lie contained within the truths, but she had no intention of letting anyone know her part in the event. She grimaced, massaging her sore wrist. That'll be black and blue by morning.
Her scroll vibrated on her belt, buzzing every few seconds. She slide it out of the pocket and clicked the answer button. "Hello?" she asked.
"Have you decided yet?"
Cerulean shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. "I'm not sure."
"Bull. You've decided. Come on! It'll be fun!"
"It's not supposed to be fun."
"...You're going to come."
"Whatever floats your boat," Cerulean said, trying to keep her tone serious, though she smiled softly.
"What are you doing now anyways? You sort of sound out of breath."
Cerulean looked down at the downs, beams of red and blue lights and the screech of sirens cutting through the night. "I'm just relaxing."