This one story is a complete rewrite of the original that i had made. The RACE to Finality series was put up on February 5th, 2015. It was a RWBY FanFic that was the first ever FanFic i wrote, and I began writing it because of the Death of Monty Oum. When he died, it sparked me to start writing, and so i did. That fic was something that i had hoped would bring great Joy to Readers. Without the dark we wouldn't be able to see the stars. And so, as i bring up the sad death of the creator of this universe that we all share,
i would like to bring back this fic.
I give you the Rewrite of my first Fanfiction.
RWBY: RACE to Finality.
Loneliness. That was all he had been. How long had he been kept in that cell? 5 years? 6 maybe? He wasn't sure. All he knew, was he traveled a barren waste land alone. Nobody to hold. Nobody that knew him in the slightest was around. And yet, he kept walking. Why? Simple, he was driven. Driven to find the one who placed him with this curse, this...abomination they called a body.
A man, he was not a boy, but a man. He was around 16 years of age, black and white hair cut military style. He wore a white strait jacket with two black stripes running down the sides, and the black numbers on the chest that read J-324. Eyes that didn't seem like they were human, white pupils with a black iris around them. It was almost as if you were staring into a demon. He trudged through the Glass Desert lands of Vacuo, no goal in mind, no direction he knew of. All that mattered was to find the person who did this. To find the person who took him and his family away. To find the person who molded his family into who they were now, and tried to change him.
The man stopped, the heat giving him blisters on his face and skin. He squinted his eyes as he looked ahead, something catching his attention. He got in a ready stance, his bare feet sliding slightly in the sand. Moments passed, but nothing moved. Suddenly, the sand in front of him exploded, and he jumped up. When the sand cleared from the air, the man saw what he was up against. A King Taijitu. It was smaller than average, signifying that it was a new one just given to this world. The man in the strait jacket, whom was still air born, lifted his right leg over his head before slamming it down the middle of the King Taijitu.
The snake grimm let out a deafening screech of pain as its counterpart flew across the desert, dead. It landed in the sand, withering about, it trying to save itself. But it couldn't.
The man landed with force upon its head, splattering it into the sand. It immediately began to disperse into the air, the black and white flakes of its essence floating away. The man looked at where the corpse had lain, before he began his walk again, this time with bloody feet. A few crunches were heard under foot, and bloody footprints left their mark on the sands of Vacuo.
The man, whom hadn't said a word, was lying in a bed. It was all the inn could offer besides food and water. His strait jacket had been taken off for him, giving him freedom for his hands. They even supplied him with clothes, which he accepted with a simple grunt. Other than eating and drinking, he hadn't left his room. Soon, he got up as the clock struck noon, the grumble of a stomach that resounded in the room.
The man walked down the stairs to the quiet sound of the inn, only few people or faunus were eating or drinking, others were either out or sleeping. He walked over to counter and tapped it three times, causing the bartender to look over. He simply chuckled before handing him a glass of water along with a plate of steak, salad, and bread. The man ate before he drank his water, then started to head back upstairs. That is, until a group of four men walked in laughing.
"A-and when he was all 'but thats a human.'! BAHAHAHA!" One of them, a husky man with a deep voice laughed out, letting the others join in. The other three were just the same. Tough looking guys with a big appetite. That was the first impression that the man got of them.
"Hey, did you guys hear about that order Atlas put out on TV?" One of them asked, suddenly serious. The other three nodded before anyone talked.
"Yeah, what was his name? Er, Jackson...Crow?" One of the others thought outloud, the whole group in thought. One of them saw the man by the stairs and frantically tapped his friends shoulder.
"What?" He asked before following his gaze. They looked in towards the group and began to whisper. Meanwhile, the man had an emotionless face, but eyes full of anguish. Everyone was soon whispering, as large amounts of aura seemed to be seeping from this man, and it wasn't an aura that was good.
Vale. The kingdom of peace, or so goes the word. Home to the prestigous Beacon academy, one of a few schools that taught and trained humanities best hunters and huntresses. A select few of these students were very important. Key people if you will. A total of 12 to mention, yet only 3 of these 12 were important. But, let's save that for later.
A girl with a combat skirt and red frills, a lady with a white over coat, an adept reader with a black combat suit, and a golden flame with no way to burn out. These four were team RWBY.
Team RWBY, along with company of Team JNPR, were sitting in professor Ports hunting class. They were sitting, half of them goofing off, and the other half intent on their learning (*cough cough* Weiss *cough cough*). A subject not even related to the class was brought up, and it brought up a story. A very recent one, which caught the attention of everyone.
"Ah, this one was fairly recent," Peter started off, "I was called down to Vacuo, as well as a few other hunters and huntresses. It must have been dire cor them to need more than 3. The worst part was that it wasn't to do with any grimm. No, this was an escaped convict, whom is still somewhere out there."
"They had apparently called down all the hunters and huntresses that specialized in tracking. The soldiers kept going on about how 'he just wasn't there anymore.' and had us try to track his whereabouts," he stopped to take a sip of his coffee, "it was one of the most challenging assignments. We were out in the Vacuo desert lands searching, as the convict was said to head in that direction. I looked for signs of any sort of presence. Footprints, dried blood, up rooted plants. I even used latest technology! But, to no avail, could any of us find a single trace." He paused for a minute, making sure the class was paying attention.
"Until, one of us found something. An abandon storage room seemed to be emiting a black aura. We asked them why it was doing that, and they simply said 'It's his cell.' This caused great disturbance with us. Atlas, keeping someone capable of leaving an aura mark was NOT good." a student raised their hand, a question waiting to be answered.
Port chuckled a little before answering the question, "And, what my boy are you asking?"
The student lowered his hand, "What is an 'Aura mark'?"
Everyone began to whisper to themselves, the same question seeming to float around. Team RWBY wasn't much different, as they began to talk amongst themselves.
"You guys know what an Aura mark is?" Ruby Rose asked her companions. Yang Xiao Long shook her head, Blake Belladona simply shrugged, but Weiss Schnee seemed to know.
"An Aura mark is a phenomenon. It happens when a persons aura is strong enough to leek out of their body, causing it to 'stain' an area. This is very dangerous, because if it were to stain a person, that person could change drastically."
Port clapped as everyone looked back to him, "Excellent! An amazing explanation, Mrs. Schnee!" Weiss just let out a 'hmph' of triumph.
"What Mrs. Schnee is correct. But this wasn't supposed to happen. If you have a powerful aura, you could be leaving an Aura mark. This can be prevented by limiters. These 'limiters' can be things like jewelry and clothing, even a weapon. The thing that shocked us, however, was the fact the limiters given to him were bro-" before he could continue, the bell rang, signifying the end of class. Port sighed and addressed the class.
"Remember what we learned today! Have a great evening, and we might pickup tomorrow!" And with that, the class emptied itself.
The man was now standing in a building, new clothing adorned on his body. He had acquired a trench coat as well as a satchel, both of which were black with a white stripe going across them. He had black pants that had no pockets, but had white metal knee pads. His feet were now cover with a pair of black boots, metal bottom clicking where he walked. On his back, he adorned a cloak with an emblem upon its black fabric, the picture of a crow. He walked down the street, a gust of wind blowing against his face. The town, now deathly silent, was empty. The man stopped in front of a weaponsmith shop, the door ripped off as if in search for something. The buildings all around looked ragged and destroyed, almost as if it was a different village.
As he stepped in, something jumped out of the shadows. He flung his hand out and snatched the thing by the throat. He got a good look at it before bringing it to his face. It was an Atlas soldier.
"Where? Where did you hide it?" The man asked in a whisper, holding the soldier even through struggle. The Atlas soldier just grunted and struggled more, causing the man to clutch harder.
"Where. Is. It." He asked again. The soldier pointed shakily towards a storage closet, and the man crushed his throat. Dropping the body, he walked towards the storage closet, glass crunching beneath his feet. As he approached, he heard mumbling coming from beside it.
"No no no no no no no…" the mumbling seemed to be directed at the man, as the closer he got, the louder he seemed to talk. Soon, it was at the point of almost yelling.
"NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!" the voice shouted, the man standing above the person screaming.
"Who are you?" the man asked the voice. The figure stopped screaming and retreated to a sob.
"Y-you cannot! You c-c-can't! Not that weapon! Not you! You're h-h-h-him! Yes, you are…are Jackson! Jackson Crow! The m-m-m-m-monster! Get away! Get awa-" the voice halted with a choking cry, as the man named Jackson Crow kicked him upside the head. He opened the weapon storage and reached his hand inside, grabbing the thing he was searching for. As he pulled it out, it seemed to come to life with a hum.
It was a Scythe, though not as pretty as you might think. It looked as if it had no mechanics integrated in it, it was simplistic. It had a black demonic look to it, and the blade was a shiny white as it seemed untouched. It had a spike on the bottom of the stem of metal. It had demonic plant like designs climbing all over it, and a small light where the handle was placed, making it glow red. Jackson pointed the weapon at the unconscious form of the man he had kicked, and squeezed the handle. It made a clicking sound and a red ball began to form at the top of the scythe. It shot out at an unseen speed and struck the man. The body began to fall apart, as if it was a corpse decomposing. Soon, he was a pile of rotting body parts, and Jackson walked out of the building. He held an emotionless face once more, eyes that had no meaning shined.
He began to tread again, using his cloak to shield himself from the sand and heat. He had one destination he had in mind. An old friend that could help him. And the only word he spoke on his travels was one that would remind him of why he was doing this.
"Ozpin…"
Well, this was hopefully a good chapter for you all. This is a rewrite of the original story from almost an exact year ago. Just remember, constructive criticism and reviews, favorites and follows, all of that is much appreciated. So, I'll get to the next chapter! Bye!