Authors notes:
Hey guys My name is Synergy and my partner in crime is Xen, and he is relatively new to RWBY.
I just want to make it known that this is my first time I have been serious about a fanfiction, I hope you all enjoy it.
(PSA I do not own anything but my OC characters)
Hey all. It's Xen. I'm more of a helper to my friend Synergy than anything. Cleaning up story line, beefing up the text. You know, the technical work. I might even write some myself.
(PSA I'm a dork!)
Legends. Stories scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts, of a forgotten past.
Man, born from dust, was strong, wise, and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness — creatures of destruction — the creatures of Grimm - set their sights on man and all of his creations. These forces clashed, and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man's brief existence to the void.
However, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man's passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named "Dust".
Nature's wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness, and in the shadow's absence came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life.
But even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone... darkness will return.
So you may prepare your guardians, build your monuments to a so-called "free world", but take heed... there will be no victory in strength.
But perhaps victory is in the simpler things that you've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul.
A lone figure stands at the top of a building, one sword sheathed on their back, another firmly held in their left hand. A black and teal eight point star strikes against the faded grey of the jacket they wear. Stark. Unforgettable.
A necklace hangs from their neck, with an eight point star burned into the balsa wood circle connected to the chain. The figure grasps the pendant until his knuckles turn white. He swivels toward the city ahead.
An explosion can be heard in the distance, and the figure steps off the ledge of the building, falling to the street below. His feet strike the concrete hard. A plume of smoke rises.
The figure wastes no time. Before the dust can settle, he's off, boots slapping hard dirt. His left hand stables his sword, while his right unsheathes the other from his back. He gives both swords a twirl. Shoots the pistols built into them for the hell of it.
He never stops running.
A shout echoes off the buildings as two thugs are thrown into the street. A figure walks out of the alley, each step methodical, calculated. There's swagger in their movement. A bladed tonfa rests in either hand, two fingers poised on each trigger.
"Ya know," the figure says, smirking, "trying to mug an obviously armed person isn't the greatest idea."
One of the thugs staggers up onto his arms, but the figure kicks him in the stomach. The thug turns green. Almost vomits. The figure shifts the tonfas into pistols. He takes aim at the thugs, before pulling the triggers.
A scream tears out of a bystanders mouth as she watches the tonfas go off.
The earth shatters beneath the heavy swing of a massive war hammer. Crumbles and quakes seconds after the impact. The figure spins the weapon rapidly over their head before slamming it back down into the ground, sending shrapnel and rock flying into the White Fang soldiers.
With a final heavy swing the group of Fangers are shot into the air and fall to the ground unconscious. Half of them are bleeding. The blood pools in the divots where the hammer collapsed the rock.
The figure collapses the massive hammer and rests it on their shoulder. They take one final look at the damage. Crushed schist, white and pepper gray, litter the carnage. Bodies- twenty, maybe more- lay silent. Unmoving.
The figure smiles. Then walks away with a swagger in their step and a devilish smirk on their face.
Another's day work. Another army crushed.
A loud metallic buzzing vibrates through an alley in downtown Vale, followed by the loud crack of a whip. A flash of white fills the enclosure as a hooded figure jumps from the darkness, landing feet first onto the chest of a man. He is wiry, sprung. The man under his polished boots has not showered in a week, shaved in over three. He is scum.
The hooded figure looks into the mans beady eyes. There is something hard there, shiny. Laced with fear. The figure laughs as he steps off of the man, grinding his boots in the guy's chest.
"You're lucky I don't hang you from your ankles and call it a day." The figure sneers before kicking the man across the face. There's a crunch,and his nose comes away bloody and bent. "As much as people like you disgust me, it's beneath me to kill . Huntsman is as huntsman does and all that… Anyway, the police will be here to pick you up soon. Enjoy your ties!"
With a flick of their wrist, a cable snakes its way around the man's wrists and ankles. It wraps them together tight. The man tries to scream, but the figure gives him one good kick to his already broken nose. His eyes glaze over as blood trickles down his chin.
The figure leans over the semi conscious man. He whispers "Later, loser," before giving him one final kick to the ribs. He chuckles as he walks out of the alley, a smile stretching under his Hood.
Okay guys, time for A/N's
So first off this is Synergy talking, and I just want to say I hope you all enjoy this promo, and I hope you enjoy the upcoming story!
Anything to say Xen?
Yeah, Synergy. It's Xen, guys, and I just want to say I really like this project. Everything written here was Synergy's brain child. I'm just building everything out. So if you're gonna give anyone credit, make sure to give it to my lovely friend, Synergy.
