Author's Notes: Hey, welcome. I'm Friend. I've read a lot of cute things about team CFVY and felt like cranking out an origin story for fun. It's in my main fic's universe, but that isn't really relevant. The POV's will change between the members of CFVY by chapter. Anyways, hope you enjoy.

Music Choices: Noise Pollution by Portugal the Man, and Blood in the Cut by

Another Cup of Joe

Chapter 1

Of Doilies and Dullards

Coco Adel subtly watched the limo driver through the glass partition. His name was Gus. He had two children, both in elementary school in Atlas's middling district. He was a single parent, but she did not know why. He smoked occasionally, and played the guitar in his free time. He had not told her any of this. She had deduced it, from the picture on his dashboard, from his i.d. hanging from the rearview mirror, the cigarettes hidden beneath the stereo and the fact that he was not wearing a wedding ring or had a picture of his significant other alongside those of his obvious children.

Coco had taught herself how to read people at the age of six, inspired by the detective films she had been absolutely obsessed with at that time. Growing up in Atlas, amongst the upper echelons of Remnants high society, reading people was indeed a valuable asset. However, no one had prompted her to become so accomplished at it, or even to develop such skills in the first place.

It was a game she liked to play, more than anything else. What could she learn about someone without them ever revealing any of that information directly? As she grew older, she realized most people did not like it when you suddenly asked them how their mistresses were doing over canapes; but she used that to her advantage, too. It kept people off kilter, and gave her the upper hand in social interactions. It was also vastly entertaining.

She glanced back down at her scroll, flicking through peoples feeds and the latest fashion news. She was tired of Atlas. It was such a dreary place, really. You could rarely see the sky, it was snowing half the year, and a person could forget what it felt like to be truly warm; that and the people, Dust, the fucking people were just so forgettable. They had their parties, they had their little balls, oh, and the drama. It was so exciting, if your definition of excitement was getting together over tea to talk shit about your snobby friends behind their backs. It never ended.

Coco glanced back up. Gus was taking the long way back to Adel manor, his scroll advising him that a traffic accident was backing up the highway they were on; he pulled off the on ramp and into one of the rougher neighborhoods, navigating the streets quickly and not stopping fully at the stop signs.

Gus hummed along to a pop song, oblivious that she was even in the back of his vehicle. Coco did not blame Gus for ignoring her. Atlas manners dictated that people of their stations go about politely ignoring each other all the time; however, it was an aspect of life there that she hated passionately.

Other people, the sort that the members of the elite declared as being plebian without ever saying that word directly, were so much more interesting. Coco was lucky that her mother was considered a real Bohemian by societal standards, or she could have ended up just like them. Still, it was hard to break through the barriers that separated her from the rest of the world. Even when she reached out, she felt like she was simply imposing herself on people who were too afraid of her to form a real connection with.

She glanced out the window, eyes trailing over the storefronts of rundown Dust shops, cafes, coffee shops, and weapons mechanics. Snow was drifting down in lazy, fat flakes, covering the sidewalks before the sweepers came through. Atlassian patrol droids were stomping by, people scuttling out of their way without even looking up, their heads downcast.

She looked back at her scroll, pausing. One of the local stations was running a headline featuring Winter Schnee, and Coco could not hold back her smile. Now there was a woman who did not give a damn what anyone thought of her.

Coco had met Winter many times in her life; when she had been younger, she had been more than a little infatuated by the older girl. Winter had broken away from her father at the age of sixteen, enlisting in the Atlassian army and forcing Jacques to disown her as his heir; a billionaire could not enlist, after all. It was a liability. Winter had refused to play his games, insisting on making her own way in the world. Now she was a Specialist, an elite soldier, and Ironwood's righthand.

She read through the article, which was primarily about Dust shipment security and an increase in terrorist attacks. Troubling, but unfortunately not very surprising. Winter actually had the balls to claim that Atlas had created it's own worst enemy by creating such a hostile environment for faunus to live in to begin with, and oh Dust, Coco wished she could see Jacques Schnee's reaction. There was no way he didn't read it, even though he would never admit it. He would be livid, because he was a racist git and everyone knew it.

I do declare, I have the vapors.

She snickered at her own ridiculous thoughts, inciting Gus to glance at her in the rearview mirror. She held up her scroll in explanation and he nodded, bored. She looked back at her scroll, utterly unabashed.

An advertisement for the Hunter Academy's popped up once more, and Coco felt a little pang of longing. She had attended Combat Schooling, as was tradition. All the blue bloods did, claiming it was a part of their heritage, and insisting that it was the best way to form friendships and alliances that would later help them in their careers as being chardonnay sipping, doily loving dullards.

Coco did not want to be a chardonnay sipping, doily loving dullard. She hadn't always known what she wanted, but she was absolutely solid about that. As she had grown older, Coco had decided she wanted to kill monsters. She wanted to fight Grimm. She wanted to see more of Remnant, not from a hotel room, but out in the REAL world, fighting alongside people for the good of those who could not. She wanted…more. She needed to be more than an Atlassian fashionista.

She set her phone down thoughtfully, dreaming behind her sunglasses. She could do it; and her mother would certainly support her, she'd be a huge hypocrite not to. However, Coco knew she didn't want to go to school at Atlas Academy. Atlas was not where her future lay.

Gus the limousine driver, finally pulled into the manor's driveway, showing his id to the security guards and rolling through the gates. When they came to a stop, Coco didn't wait for anyone to open her door, stepping down onto the gravel quickly. Gus gaped a little, but she slipped him an extra hundred.

"Thank you Gus. Go pick your kids up early. It's a holiday after all," Coco shrugged, striding easily up the salt covered steps to her front door. He stammered something as she let herself in, hiding the mischievous look on her face.

Music was blaring upstairs, meaning that her mother was working at home. Artemis Adel always blasted heavy metal when she was conducting business; she claimed it helped get her in her queen bitch headspace, and Coco felt that made perfect sense. Typically, she wouldn't have bothered her mother in the midst of making savage business closures, but time was of the essence.

She trotted up the stairs, tossing her scarf over her shoulder as she knocked on her mother's study. The music dimmed, and Coco heard her mother call. She flung open the door without further ado, striding in with confident familiarity.

Artemis Adel's study was not your typical Atlassian fare, but neither was she. The room looked like a cross between a necromancer's layer and a punk rock concert. There was a macabre desk in the center of the room, literally carved from obsidian. Artemis was stretched out on her back on the desktop, talking on the phone as she tossed a Dust round like a tennis ball over her head.

"I don't care what Vermillion says. No. NO. Edwin, darling, now is not the time to be a gentleman. Now is the time to slit their throats and drink their blood from a sippy cup. They had their chance, and they tried to fuck us. They didn't even buy us coffee first. No. No one fucks us, Edwin. We fuck them, and then they thank us. That's how it goes. I know you do. Yes, it's all very upsetting, now go in there and destroy their lives like a good boy. Make sure to record it."

Coco sighed at the theatrics, caught between amusement and embarrassment. Artemis made a kissy nose into the receiver, before hanging up and groaning.

"Ugh, I need an aspirin. And something stronger than gin."

"Mom," Coco started.

"Yes my dear? What time is it, did I work late again?" Artemis sat up, reaching for her desk clock. It was a grinning skull, holding a pocket watch between its teeth.

"No, it isn't late. I just needed to tell you, that I've made a decision."

"Oh?" Artemis set the clock down.

"I'm going to be a Huntress."

Artemis blinked, looking at the clock again.

"Uh huh, and since when did you decide this?"

"This afternoon," Coco admitted, cocking a hip. "On the drive home, actually."

Artemis hopped off the desk, nodding slowly as she processed this new information. Her platinum blonde hair was braided intricately behind her shoulders. She was wearing her green and black power dress, which was as equally suited to destroying people's lives on a conference call as it was to going out into the badlands to hunt Grimm. Her mother sighed dramatically, gesturing.

"And you couldn't have this fit of inspiration sooner, love? You know I support you, but the first semester for Atlas starts in, oh, tomorrow. It starts tomorrow."

"I don't want to go to Atlas," Coco admitted. She didn't sound guilty, but she was apprehensive about this part of the conversation. Artemis's eyes narrowed, just barely at the admission.

"And where do you want to go, exactly?"

"Beacon."

Artemis stared, before turning to pour herself some very pricy liquor into a tumbler. She knocked it back in one go, sighing exuberantly before turning around.

"You are killing me, sweetheart. Beacon?"

"Yes," Coco nodded firmly.

"Why Beacon?"

"Why not Beacon?" Coco countered. "You went there. You, Uncle Deidrick and General Ironwood all went to Beacon. It is a quality school, and would give me the opportunity to build connections with people who I never would otherwise."

She specifically did not mention her mother's partner, but Artemis was hardly oblivious to that fact.

"You know why I don't like that place," Artemis continued. "And I don't like the leadership it's under. I know James, I trust James, and James would make sure you didn't end up as a Boarbatusk's kebob as a freshman."

"I'm willing to use my savings to pay my through," Coco insisted. "I know you don't like Beacon, but what other options are there? Shade?"

"Only if you wished to become an assassin or blacklisted by the time you were twenty one," Artemis grimaced. "And don't get me fucking started on Haven."

"I won't get you fucking started on Haven."

"It's too late. I fucking hate Haven. Haven and Mistral, the whole business, just absolute garbage heaps, and they're all racists."

"Atlas is also mostly racists, mom."

"Jimmy is working really hard to change that, though," Artemis tapped her chin. "He's really had the Council's nuts in a vice over it. Deidrick even has a teaching gig there when he isn't out on his fucking soul quests into the bloody void. That has never happened before."

"I stand by my decision," Coco insisted. "I think Beacon would best for me."

Artemis studied her further before sighing and pulling her into a hug. Coco hugged her back unabashedly. She loved her mom. She was her superhero.

"You don't have to pay for everything, you know that?" Artemis offered, pulling away. "Becoming a Huntress can be pretty expensive."

Coco smirked, tipping her head.

"I want to try at least."

"Mm. Well, we have, what a week? We have a week."

Coco felt her heart speed up as she broke into a wide smile. She only managed to stop herself from running out of the room to go pack. This was going to be amazing.