Okay, so here's a little note for those of you unfamiliar with the universe of RWBY: most of the confusing stuff that is particular to the place (such as Grimm, Aura, Dust, Semblance, Hunters, etc.) will be explained in-story. That way the new guys aren't left behind right at the start. Though, in my opinion, if you haven't seen RWBY yet, then you absolutely must do so. Not for the story, but because the plot and comedy of the show is just absolutely awesome! You can find it on the Roosterteeth website, roosterteeth.c om , and it's highly recommended. (there's a space in the URL because doesn't actually allow URL's in stories for the most part. The program they use just doesn't notice when there's a space)

Also, for everybody who reads my stories, this story is actually already complete, fully written, I just need to type it up and post it, so you don't need to worry about not getting more. Sort of. I'll explain that later.

Now, this story is absolutely amazing in that it actually took me 2 months of solid work to get it done, and it just went out of control, from a simple one-shot idea to a huge, multi-thousand word full-on story! In fact, I had to cut it into chapters and arcs even! Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! :)

In Winter Rose's General Store, a young woman was stocking the shelves, rather precariously perched upon various furniture as she sang and did her job. Currently, she was finishing a pile of jars and singing about being held, safe and warm, in the middle of a winter's storm.

Then she jumped off the chair and grabbed a large pile of boxes and began to sing a new song as she jumped onto a table and began to put away the boxes that go there.

She was a rather tall individual, wearing a looser black sleeved shirt that hugged while not being revealing with red on her shoulders down her sleeves in a pair of long stripes, a set of simple black cargo pants with red accents on the side pockets, and, currently, calloused bare feet that seemed surprisingly delicate, even when you consider the size and seeming power in those callouses and scars.

From the way she looked and moved about, it was fairly obvious she was at least decently fit, but when you were looking and she didn't know, that's when the most striking observations about her were there to see.

She acted happy and carefree, but her bearing, no matter how demure, was that of a powerful and weary warrior. Her steps were quiet and sure, ready for flight, stealth, or attack at any moment. Her innocent face had a certain hardness to it, and when her red-frosted shoulder length black hair wasn't covering her right side, you could see a black handkerchief with a red rose covering the right eye, but letting her sparkling silver eye on the left show.

Then she was getting to the end of her song, humming for a bit before she began to sing and began her last stack of boxes in their area. It was also the biggest pile.

"Oh, he will wait for - One Day! While he was waiting for the trolley, he had a hat!" She switched voices as she sang as well. "My high silk hat! He wore it high upon his head so proudly, a beautiful hat! A hat, like this which makes him feel so grandly, now fancy this, and fancy that! The splendor of his hat in all its majesty, Like a king! In a royal cap! I feel so swell and handsome in my hat! I bet that others wish they had, in fact, a hat as this, a hat as that, a hat so fine a high silk haaaat! Oh, Mr. Art Bigotti, now waddya think of that?!"

"I think it sounds quite silly." A deep male voice said from behind her with some amusement.

Now, while she had been aware that someone had come in thanks to the bell on the door, she hadn't been expecting a response to the lyrics, and so overbalanced and nearly lost her stack as she fell. A box almost fell, but decided it was comfy on the top, and she smiled. "Nailed it."

The pale-skinned man raised his right eyebrow. "You're lying on the floor. Somehow, I don't think that qualifies." He stated.

"I didn't drop my boxes, did I?" She fired back with an exultant smile. She carefully moved the boxes off her belly and got up to talk to her friend and customer. "Besides which, the song was supposed to be silly. It was called a Silly Song, even. Anyway, what can I do for you, Mr. Arbigotti?"

"Well, I'd like my usual and, maybe, a bit of hairgel?" He asked with a smile of feigned self-conscious embarrassment as he stroked his rather large afro. It was a game they always played.

She smiled. "I still don't think you need it Mr. B." She hopped off to collect the man's items. Whenever she grabbed the dog bones for him, she was reminded of the fact that she is secretly convinced that he was secretly a dog Faunus, but always kept her mouth shut. It was better not knowing for sure, what with the prejudice against the half-human/half-animal people. Still bothered her that littlest bit that hatred could spring up over such a minute detail, but she'd had her ass kicked by the other half of what she called "People" before, and she knew that a wounded pride was an easy source of hate.

After putting his stuff into a box, like usual, she brought it up to the counter and rang up his pricing, along with the hair product her roommate liked, which she pretended to slip into the box as stealthily as possible. the truth was that he knew what she was actually doing, just as she did, so it was pointless to be tricky about it. Still a fun game though.

She sent him on his way and went back to restocking the shop. As she got to the last box, she was distracted by it, and instead of shelving it, she opened it. It was a weapons magazine, filled with interesting pictures of exciting weapons and add-ons, like that scythe with a variable chaingun attachment or that rapier that could turn into a dart or a ball and chain! Or even better, a recallable dart!

She had a lot of fun looking through it until it disappeared and a stern voice tried to chide her. "Rose! We're not supposed to open our own merchandise!"

Rose looked up at her magazine's thief with a sad expression. The woman in front of her was dressed all in white from her slightly padded rider's pants and sensible non-expensive (but not really all that cheap) shoes to her simple coat covering a white shirt which had always reminded Rose of a Civil War military jacket and even down to the very last hair on the woman's face, even those beautiful eyebrows giving shade to those breathtakingly sparkling ice blue orbs (which were trying to be as severe as the face they sat upon), were a pure white, whiter than most snows Rose had ever seen (and she'd seen a lot of snow). Rose could tell the other woman was really trying hard to keep the genuine displeasure on her face rather than the soft smile trying to burst its way out.

"Don't worry Snow." Rose said with a smile. "It's not yours anymore."

Snow-white brows furrowed in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rose pointed at the cash drawer. "I paid for it. My money's right under the drawer, just waiting to be put in the drawer, and the rest are on the shelves."

Snow looked and saw the small pile of Lien under the cash register and sighed, allowing her smile to come out, if colored with concern. She turned back to the red-frosted brunette and sat down next to her on the step. "I just worry about you Rose, that's all."

"Please, don't" Rose said with a soft smile. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of us."

Snow sighted again, The smile fading this time. "I know that. I know that you're a big girl, but we have to be really careful with you. If we aren't, we may not be able to deal with the fallout."

For a second, Rose wanted to say "Then don't.", but held her tongue. She knew better. Instead, she smiled softly and said, "Alright then." Then she drew the snow-haired angel into a soft and slightly awkward hug, staying ever attentive of her strength. Then they reluctantly drew apart and studied each other with a tad bit of worry, just like always, And just like always, they found nothing wrong. They hadn't for over a year, since a few days after their last Opening Anniversary, in fact.

That's when Snow noticed Rose's lack of shoes. "Rose, where're your shoes?" She asked a little dangerously.

Think of a lie, quick! "Uh, I just lost 'em somewhere is all." Nice save. They're actually right where Rose always "loses" them, shoe basket in the Bedroom above the store. She always forgets them or loses them wen they're there. Sad, but true.

Unless she just really wants to not wear shoes as much as possible. Always a possibility.

"Honestly, for someone who can remember every minute detail about completely random and unimportant things, you have such a hard time remembering to grab your shoes when you take them off."

'Actually, that's deliberate.' Rose thought as she fought to keep a downcast look on her face rather than her smirk.

A small pile of bills were pushed into Rose's hands, and she looked up at Snow's unusually soft expression with a confused and questioning look on her face.

"Here, go get a new pair. Something really nice this time." She said softly.

"Are you sure?" Rose asked with genuine concern. Neither one of them really did this sort of thing at all, being very strict protectors of their moneys.

"Yes, I'm sure. The store's doing well enough that we can easily afford a few nice things every now and then, between takeout nights."

Rose smiled gratefully and Snow smiled back. "Nice to have money again, isn't it? A lot better than when we struggled to pay the rent." And better than having to face the possibility of Bankruptcy, like last year.

"Yeah." Snow stood and pulled Rose up after. "Now go and get some shoes, you dunce." She said with a playful push and a wider smile.

"Alright, my Angel." And with that, the brunette dashed off at a sedate pace, unaware of the sad and concerned expression that stayed on Snow's face after Rose left. It was easy to smile with her in the room most times and days, but she and the other three were continually worried about their "Happy" member, knowing what she had done and what she could do from first-hand experience. Maybe one day she'd stop caring and start killing again.

But to be honest? The rest of the world could go straight to Hell for all they cared, but if any other member of the team, Rose especially, if they needed help, they were immediately top priority automatically. The others will always drop whatever they're doing, no matter how important, if any other of what little remains of their family is in trouble.

No matter what, they will survive, together.

As family.

"Oh, come on you piece of-" She muttered at the inanimate object in front of her. She groaned with the strain for a moment before a loud clang sounded throughout the room, followed by a string of profanity including something about a donkey mule and the object's mother. She finally got fed up and just punched it. that was followed by 3 clangs, moaning in pain, and the "Owie Dance" as performed by the young woman.

When she was done "dancing", she glared at the offending vehicle, which now had a fist-shaped dent right above where the pathetic and broken bit lay next to her tools broken by trying to take out the rusted piece of junk: an extractor and a wrench. "All right, I'm done!" She shouted at it. "I'm done with you and I'm taking a shower." She declared, staring the vehicle down. Useless, she knew, as the vehicle had no intelligence and no ability to affect her at all, as far as she knew, but she'd found that saying it out loud helped to keep from useless toil whenever she warred with her need to fix things.

After a few more seconds staring the poor hunk-o'-junk down, she managed to leave it alone. This time, she won against her need to keep fixing it past her patience, but it was honestly a close thing.

When she got to the bathroom connected to her bedroom, she paused to examine herself in the full-length mirror.

She stood tall and, usually confident, though she was currently exhausted and defeated because of that one stupid BOLT! She resisted the urge to punch the mirror, knowing it'd cost to buy a new one, and instead punched the wall behind her, watching the concrete crumble around her fist and winced at the reminder of her still new strength.

She brought her mind back to the mirror to try and ignore that crummy piece of steel.

Right now, she was in her mechanicking clothes: A black tube top with red hems that her "sister" Rose had picked out for her last Christmas (since it was designed to cover her sides and back, but not her very well-defined six-pack abs while perfectly conforming to her body, and because she couldn't find the design anywhere, she was thoroughly convinced the brunette had made it herself just for her), a pair of black jogging shorts (which may have also been handsewn), a set of reinforced cut-finger gloves, and a pair of steel-toed boots. Every single well-defined muscle in her larger-than-normal arms and legs were plain to see, other than her left forearm, which was wrapped up in bandages after a particularly nasty burn a few days ago. Normally, she also wore a tan trenchcoat, but that was left in the room because today was an inside day. Her kind face framed rather unique purple eyes, just a few shades off high-quality Amethyst, while her face was framed by rather beautiful and bountiful butt-length blazing golden hair.

She stripped off her clothing. When she was younger, she would've paused to admire her body. If she'd had it then, that is.

Of course, that was 50 years and too many funerals ago. So instead she just stepped into the shower and cleaned.

Afterwards, she toweled off the worst of the water, put on the same underwear, shorts, and top that she'd been wearing before the shower and let them soak up the rest of the water while letting her hair air-dry. Since she just wanted to relax now without thinking about work, she went to the front door of the apartment she lived in above the shop and made sure to press the button that locked all the entrances shut and then went to her favorite fat and comfy recliner chair and melted right into it with a sigh. She reached for the end table next to her for the cigar box and the remote.

In the past few years, she and her family had had to get used to some rather frightening changes beyond the cosmetic (like having naturally sun-yellow hair, rather than grey), like the fact that, suddenly, they were all faster and stronger than should be possible and were also nearly invincible. They didn't want attention, just a quiet life. A safe one.

She snorted at that thought as she stuck a cigar in her mouth and and thought about her own life for just a moment. There were other changes they'd had to learn to live with as well. One of the most noticeable and, by now, most comfortable of which was the fact that all four of them could now sprout small gouts of flame from their fingertips, like she was doing to light her cigar right now while using the remote to turn on the speakers for some relaxing music.

As she took a deep breath of her cigar, she resisted the urge to spit it out. She took it out and exhaled a cloud of vivid purple smoke and let the music wash over her. For a moment, she contemplated her cigar. It was rather small, practically a filter-less cigarette, but it wasn't something you could actually buy. Other than the fact that it was homemade, it used herbs they'd had to grow themselves because they couldn't find them anywhere else, and had had to use the last cigar they'd had, which had some pretty crummy herbs when compared to all the others they'd ever had or smoked.

From what they'd been told and had seen, the cigars were far from healthy. But they helped Rose to calm down, and helped the four of them to relax and fall asleep at night, and to be honest, that's all that mattered. She knew Rose was a maniac, but she still didn't believe Snow's stories about the woman. And besides, they were familiar. They were a remnant of home.

The blonde gave a snort at that thought, as they were now living in the world of Remnant. She took another puff of her cigar as the song changed. Now, it was Money, by Pink Floyd, another remainder of what was left of home. Rather fitting now that she had a nice, steady income.

Then she began to sing along with the song. That was another pair of odd things about this new place they'd lived in for a little over 3 years. See, by a few months before their forced relocation, they'd all learned to sing well enough to calm Rose down during a panic attack. In fact, she'd been the last, and it'd taken her that long because she'd been unable to carry a tune so bad that she was banned for life from the bard's college when she'd tried to enter so many years ago. It's still weird that their singing was the only way to really calm the girl down when she was incoherent like that. However, while she'd gotten up to "Passable" as a singing voice before, here in Remnant, it was breathtakingly beautiful, even to her own ears, similarly to the others, and the four of them all gained crystal-clear memories that were diamond-sharp. The door opened and her roommate came in. She was the only other person who would be here today that had the keys, since they own the building. The blonde put her cigar back in her mouth as she looked her partner over.

The older woman stood taller than she did an had a perfect poker face decorating her fair feline features. She would never say that out loud, partly because of local racism against those part-animal people who were normal people, just with a few animal features like cat ears or monkey tails or other similarly non-disfiguring changes (what were they called again? Faunus, that's right), but mostly because she was still dealing with her childhood issues about those cute purple-black cat ears hiding among similarly colored strands of hair. Really, those ears and seductively cunning amber eyes are her only non-human traits, and they just made her more beautiful. As usual for coming home from work, she was wearing what the blonde thought of as a Russian Officer-style overcoat that was completely black except for the 4 golden buttons on her front above the oversized belt on her belly, the gold trimmings on the felt spauldrons and the golden buttons. And the grey armband on her upper left arm which is the same gray as her cuffs, other than a black flower printed on it. A firey belladonna, if she wasn't mistaken. Probably was, though.

Also as usual, she looked supremely confident and today there was a small smirk decorating her face, framed by that long black hair that high-quality silk pretends to be that was flowing as she floated along. Though, if you knew how to look, which she most definitely did, you'd notice she looked incredibly tired as well.

"Rough day?" The beauty asked.

The blonde nodded a simple yes and took another puff. Purple smoke once again decorated the air as she asked, "You?"

"Difficult, but worth it." The raven-haired woman replied with an air of satisfaction. She grabbed the fresh cigar thrown at her out of the air without deigning to look at it while going over to the fridge as the blonde waited. "Yes, I got the lube for you." She added in a bored tone as she grabbed a pair of ice cool unopened beers (sometimes, beer was left alone in the fridge until it was completely undrinkable. Not often, but it happened. Only to open beers though, for some odd reason) before she shut the fridge. It was nice to know she'd gotten it. The stuff was a little hard to get when they went anywhere other than Winter Rose and it was her doing the shopping, mostly because of her own impossibly high standards and unwillingness to get anything less for those dang rusty joints and checkballs in the various parts of various vehicles. What, you thought she was thinking of something else? "You look nice. Kind of glowy, in fact." She said as she came back into the living room and handing one of the beers to the blonde to open, the other already being sipped by the faunus woman. Damn she was quiet.

"Thanks, I just had a shower." It actually hurt a little that the woman hand't been looking at her when she said it. "So, what's the latest in my favorite cat-girl's life?"

Said cat-girl gave her a completely ineffectual light glare and gave a little head motion, telling her to turn on the TV, which the blonde obliged to do. "work, met someone idiotic, got stuck in traffic for 20 minutes." A shrug. "the usual. What about our favorite blacksmith-turned-mechanic, Dragon?"

Dragon glared at her, Oh, she was going to play that game today, hunh? Well two can play at that just as well!"Well, Blake, I finished off the car dropped off last night, turned out to be a power flow problem with the Dust playing hell on the rest of the car because it interacted with Auras badly, which was a bitch and a half to replace as I had to take the entire thing apart just to reach the problem, which I've told off the manufacturer on before, and then I had to put the whole thing back to together, which took extra-long because it fucking broke 3 of my bottom-dollar tools and my good stuff is locked up for absolutely no-fucking-reason, and then on that truck, you know the one brought in for a tune-up and to fix a minor problem causing it to smoke like a steam engine? Well I broke a rusted bolt's head and the wrench somehow, which would've hurt like a screamer rather than a bitch and a half and had to have a hospital visit to surgically remove said pieces of wrench if I wasn't that frickin' durable and then, my Easy-Out broke while trying to pull the rest of the bolt out too!" She was shouting by now, but they both knew she just needed to vent and wouldn't calm down until she'd had her fill. It was a relatively normal thing for the pair. "The only reason that fuckin' shitty bolt is even on the floor downstairs is because I punched the truck and the threads opened up, which means I need a replacement!"

"Was it Aluminum?" Blake asked. She was asking if the part she'd punched was made from Aluminum, which wasn't as solid as steel. When enough pressure was applied to Aluminum, it would crumple and fail, which was good for some things and made them relatively easy to crush and also easy to get the parts for oftentimes, but if the same amount of pressure was put to steel, the part was simply sent flying like a meteor or a guillotine. The brevity of the question was partly habit, but probably mostly because Dragon was so angry and when she was on a roll like this it was easier to let out the steam if it wasn't allowed to build.

"No! It was one of those frickin' things that are supposedly indestructible! Hurt like a fuckin' bitch when I dented it. She had a feral smile as she said that last bit as she focused on the fact that she'd actually dented it. The smile faded as she continued. "It'll cost extra time and money to deal with that mistake, even if I hadn't dented it, which means that I'll have to tell the guy his truck'll need a few extra days to get the part and install it and you know that that'll be fun. Might overcharge him a bit more just for that." She had calmed down a lot by then, her last words a mutter that Blake wasn't supposed to hear.

"So, you're already overcharging him, huh?" Blake asked seemingly indifferently, but with a decidedly dangerous edge to her voice.

Dragon pointed her cigar at Blake accusingly as she defended herself. " "Hey, I am working a respectable and registered business, but I gotta make money so that A), I can keep up with the latest models and technologies so that I can actually work on them; B), to order the parts in the first place, which can reach thousands of dollars quick and easy in some cases; and C), so that I can pay myself a salary and your cut when you help as well. Otherwise, I can't eat, and I can't help. Besides, according to some buddies, I actually overcharge a whole lot less than most other non-cheats in the city and I do better work, which made a few of them say I should charge a lot more." They were all very valid and very true points, and that's not counting the side work she did for a whole lot less that also helped to keep her solvent.

"Hmm." Was all Blake said for a moment as Dragon finished cooling off her anger, eyes closed. Her words seemed to pacify her roommate, so they just sat there in the relative silence, drinking up the music and occasionally their beer. "Which part?"

Dragon was confused for half a second before she remembered their conversation. "Thirty-eight-oh-five. 28-inch." That was the part number for the supposedly indestructible Dust Regulator she'd destroyed, followed by the size of this particular model. It wasn't exactly the first time she'd done this, so they had a system down pat by now.

"I'll put in the order." Blake said as the TV was muted.

Dragon put her beer down on a coaster and nodded without opening her eyes. Then, no warning whatsoever, she sneezed, sending her cigar flying and a puff of heat, which was probably flame, after it. Oh, so that's what the problem was. For the car with power-regulation trouble. Dust-powered vehicles don't usually react well to Flame Dust. She'll have to tell Danny when she gives him his car back.

She opened her eyes and saw the cigar tumbling through the air and, completely on instinct, she dove after it and managed to grab it before it hit the ground. A second later, she realized that she must've been going faster than your average car can actually go. In truth, from what she'd heard, only Hunters can actually move faster than a speeding vehicle, and she wasn't even slightly winded. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but they were getting used to it, if ever so slowly.

A second later, Blake's simple response from the kitchen pretty much summed up the situation.

"That's still pretty freaky." Then, probably without realizing it, she displayed a similar speed as she went from the edge of the living room to the family PDA/phone/tablet thing (the Scroll, yeah, that's what it's called.) in the kitchen on the fridge in the blink of an eye, put in the order, and seemed to blur back to her chair as Dragon hurried to do the same. Still new, but they were getting used to it.

They relaxed for a while longer until the news came on. The TV was still muted, but they could see that it was displaying a live feed of the city of Vail, where they currently resided, as a large demonic creature was rampaging through the city towards the marketplace. The gigantic pure black creature with white bone plates with red lines over it's head and face and other areas that weren't protected by white bone spikes or claws looked like a very large bear. It was an Ursa, a fairly common Grimm, which were an ever-present threat to the people of Vail and the other 3 kingdoms of Remnant.

Dragon and Blake looked at each other for a moment, worried. They wanted to help, had basically lived to help for years as they killed Grimm, back before. But for the past few years, they had done their best to keep from standing out, and killing Grimm, especially in easy view of the public eye, was not something that really contributed well to that.

Then they saw 2 figures, on in red and black, one in white, chasing after the big black hairy bear-thing, and they relaxed a little. There were Hunters on the job (well, Huntsmen or Huntresses are the more 'proper' term, depending on gender, but Rose said Hunters, so they didn't really care), people who were trained for years to kill Grimm. They could probably handle it.

But then the decision was made for them. Through the special bond they shared with the others of the family, they felt the fear and anger of one of them powerfully coursing through, before anxious fear flowed as well. The anxious fear had come from themselves and Snow, which meant that Rose was in trouble! Knowing her, she was probably at the same area as the Ursa.

"I'm driving." Dragon said as she threw the keys to Blake. That way, by the time she got down to Blake and her homemade motorcycle, after grabbing her trench coat and weapons, of course, it would be primed to go. At the coat closet, she grabbed her coat, a shotgun, and a sword for herself, a rifle for Blake (who probably still had a sword from her earlier travels today), and an emergency sword for Rose, just in case. Snow could take care of herself. She strapped the swords to her back, under the trenchcoat, and hung the shotgun by it's strap over her shoulder, keeping the rifle in her hand as she ran for the balcony. She leapt off the balcony to land next to the 'cycle, whereupon she tossed the rifle to Blake and jumped on, enjoying the feel of the motorcycle's smooth rumble for a split second before putting her head back in the game as she waited for Blake's signal that she wouldn't fall off.

"Floor it."

'Don't need to tell me twice.' Was Dragon's only thought as she put the pedal to the metal. Hopefully they'd make it in time.

"Where are you Rose?" Snow asked the air worriedly. She was pacing a hole into the floor as she waited for her roommate to show up. "We were supposed to have take-out tonight and I don't know the numbers or where you put the menus." She griped softly, trying to distract herself from her relatively minor worry about someone who has proven capable of keeping herself safe and sound, unnoticed to boot. "Hell, you were supposed to be back an hour ago because shoe shopping on our budget is really quick according to you: just find a pair you like the look of that'll be useful that fits and walk out with them after paying, like a regular guy. And yes, I know that it takes like an hour to get there on foot, because you like walking, but this is getting ridiculous!"

Snow froze as she heard the police radio Rose had insisted they buy and keep on all the time crackle to life. Normally, Vail was a nice and fairly crime-free place, so it didn't usually do much more than take up space and money on their energy bill. Her first thought was that it would involve Rose. But then it turned out that it was just Dispatch telling car 21-C to check on a reported homicide, and she relaxed.

Then it spoke up again and she tensed, filled with dread as she listened to an officer's panicked ramblings.

"Dispatch! This is Officer Zib! I need to know what the proper code is for 'Get me the fuck outta here, there's a frickin' Ursa on the loose!'? 'Cause I need to call in one of those." Officer Zib sounded awfully calm for having what was obviously his first encounter with one of the bear-like Grimm. 'Probably close to losing it' is what Snow's analytical mind said was most probable. Experience too, as she'd seen a few too many fellow Hunters calm to the point of hysteria, and a good number of those were ticking time bombs, waiting to go insane and start killing people.

That was when she decided to get ready, preparations and focus drowning out what the dispatcher said in return. if there was an Ursa, then perhaps killing it might distract her from the problem that was Rose.

"Oh, thank God! There are Huntresses here. Three of 'em!"

That made her pause. Hunters of this day don't tend to notice the outside world unless it has to do with Grimm or incredibly dangerous high-end crime. And someone asks politely. Why? Because just like an unattended Rose, Hunters, whether they be Huntsmen or Huntresses, are incredibly dangerous. What might take numerous ordinary soldiers to kill in 5 minutes, suffering heavy losses, would probably take a simply 'average' Hunter by themself 2 minutes to kill, suffering only minor wounds. It would take any one of them (Snow, Rose, Blake, or Dragon) even less time and they'd come away unscathed, but then they had higher standards than even the exceptional Hunters.

Either way, if there were Huntresses on the job, then she would not be needed. That, and she didn't want to get all messy.

"Wait, they're not Huntresses! They're two trainees and a fast girl with no shoes! I recognize Ruby Rose's scythe from last week!"

It was the "fast girl with no shoes" comment that got her moving. In a flash, Snow grabbed the white cape that she'd bought on a whim months ago and then the large sword she'd forged years ago with Dragon watching carefully to keep her from screwing it up as well as a pair of sub-machine guns that she'd sto- scavenged from a pair of dead mobsters before she'd bought the cape and was on her motorcycle and roaring off to find her family member before Zib said "Ruby Rose".

Hopefully she wouldn't be too late.

Also, this was most of my inspiration for the main characters' main appearances (and Rose's combat look, but not her normal look), other than my own brain and The White Rose of Vermillion (awesome story here on this site, by the way, you should look it up): funblade. tumblr post/ 89827001153/ xuunies-future -au-vn- rwby- sprites-finalized