Alright everyone, I'm going to introduce some more main characters this chapter, as well as explain a thing or two about the Outsiders and Red Angels.
Before I confuse people, let me put the perspectives in order for you:
First: Peter Christian (OC)
Second: Alan MacArthur (OC)
Third: Neo/Matthew (explanation in his/her perspective)
As I'll constantly say, even if I were to somehow score a job at RT, I still wouldn't own RWBY; that's Monty Oum's work (RIP, buddy).
Heroes Reborn
Sequel to Rise of the Archangel
Chapter II: Legends of Courage
(3rd person, Limited view)
(Olympia, Vacuo, 22:29 Vacuo time)
A lightning-fast figure darted across the lush plains of Vacuo, huffing hard and fast as it soared over the valley at over 60 miles per hour. As a Faunus with a peculiar Semblance, the silhouette currently resembled a cheetah. On the highway, its shadow stormed across the light's reach, followed closely by the dark figures of three Bullheads. Peter Christian looked back at the White Fang Bullheads with his deep blue eyes, not bothering to show emotions he wasn't feeling. Of course he was breathing rather hard, only because cheetahs don't have much stamina in the first place. His Aura, at this point, and his Semblance were the only things keeping him running.
"Stop where you are," a voice shouted through a megaphone aboard the Bullhead on Peter's right. "Or else we will open fire."
The Faunus ignored them and continued to sprint. In fact, it seemed as though he only sped up.
The Bullheads were forced to take a sharp right turn when their target made a 90-degree on-the-dime turn suddenly. Three more Bullheads, these owned by Red Bandits, joined the chase; four rockets flew out of one, taking out the Fang-owned Bullheads and blowing Peter off of his feet, transforming him back to his human form. The Bandits landed their craft next to Peter's still-burning body.
A homeless, unarmed Faunus resting on a public bench was awakened violently when she heard the explosions. The armed culprits exited their vehicles and surrounded the area, detaining the young girl. Peter, supposedly still unconscious, snapped his eyes open, pupils slit like a cat's.
"Careful," one of the Bandits warned his fellow criminals. "This one's a Cat. Weapons trained on her." Around a dozen Dust-powered rifles targeted the harmless Cat Faunus.
In less than a second, at least half a dozen humans were flung like toys by a pair of titanic, 35-foot wings. The wings belonged to Peter, one of the few Phoenix Faunus still alive.
Growing 6-inch talons out of the fingers on his right hand, he raised the clawed hand and lit it ablaze. His eyes showed a bright fire inside of them as his now-glowing body lit up the entire park.
"Weapons down, gentlemen," Peter growled, growing out 3-inch fangs where his canine teeth should be. "And please leave the area. I'd hate to make an unnecessary mess of things in such a beautiful park."
The Bandits cowered from him in total terror, knowing full and well what a Phoenix Faunus of his caliber was capable of. After a few minutes of just standing there, the Bandits scurried to their Bullheads and took off. Whirring rotor blades in the distance got louder quickly as Outsiders brought out one of their Apache Attack Helicopters and flew in hot pursuit of the criminal gang.
Peter relaxed, letting the fire sputter out, the talons and fangs sink back in, and his wings fold perfectly across his back. After that happened, he walked over to the homeless Faunus girl. She stepped away, back to her bench, and curled up in a little ball on the seat. A fuzzy black tail wrapped itself around her small body almost protectively.
"Hey, it's alright," Peter whispered, trying to get her to calm down. "I'm not going to hurt you." A big hazel eye poked out from behind the tail. "I promise." The tail uncovered her face, resting on her chest.
'The lass can't be more than a year younger than I," Peter assumed. 'I wonder why she's so nervous around me.'
"You sure," she stuttered, obviously afraid of the Phoenix Faunus. He nodded, his bright blue eyes radiating warmth. The tail covered her face again.
"Oh, come on," he complained, almost whining. "What's the matter, ma'am? What is it about me that's scaring you so damn bad?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," she whimpered, obviously afraid of something.
"Calm down," he spoke calmly but firmly, catching her attention. "What has you so nervous around me? I'm not like everyone else."
"Even you'd hate a Kitten Faunus," came her barely audible response. He nodded, understanding everything instantly. Kitten Faunus were basically feline Faunus with no defining traits, still developing their definite features; while they were often stronger or more cuddly than other Cat Faunus, they were discriminated against by both Faunus and humans. If she was a Kitten Faunus, no wonder she was so afraid of him: Phoenix Faunus were legendary, almost privileged amongst other Faunus, and some were discriminatory towards their own species since almost no Grimm or human threat could stand up to them.
"Actually, I'm not that biased," Peter mentioned, blue eyes still radiating their heat. The tail came to rest once more. "Like I said: I'm not like everyone else." The girl sat up, still on the defensive but not trembling in fear of the Phoenix before her. "Now, what's your name?"
(3rd Person)
(Eternal Gardens, Mantle, Atlas. 3 days ago, 16:01 PM Atlas Time)
The Eternal Gardens, held within the Schnee Manor in what used to be Mantle, was a beautiful thing to behold. A large variety of colorful flora and amazing streams of sparkling blue water added to the mystical Aura of the place. Alan MacArthur was sitting down where his many-great grandfather Douglas MacArthur had ended the War on Terror at least a millennium ago, reminiscing on his current position. As personal guard to Weiss Schnee, he was bound to catch some form of crossfire; the constant arguments between daughter and father about her desire to attend Beacon Academy in Vale had him caught in more crossfire than even the best politicians, trying to figure out a way to make both sides see equal as his ancestor Douglas had. Problem is, he still has no idea how, so he invited both parties to an afternoon discussion in the Eternal Gardens.
"So," Alan spoke, learned accent strong as he addressed the two. "Let's begin. As each of you speaks, the other must be silent and listen to the speaker. As I am the mediator, I will do my best to keep the peace." He nodded to the father. "Mr. Schnee, as you are the adult and parent here, you have the floor first."
Alan's Scroll dinged, which he checked to find a multitude of charts on statistics of Huntsman deaths over the last century, obviously inverted.
"You know," Alan muttered, sipping on his weak tea while longing for strong black coffee. "When I asked for your side of the argument, I meant for you to actually speak, not send me statistics."
"You question the truth," the owner of the Dust company shouted, standing up violently.
"Well, considering the fact that the charts are obviously inverted, as seen with the backwards text, I question the inverted truth. Nowadays, Huntsmen are more likely to die of old age than by a Grimm attack or terrorists, and even that threat is soon to fade."
"LIAR!"
"Now, now, Mr. Schnee," MacArthur calmly berated him. "It is unbecoming of a man to lose his temper. In fact, that little outburst proves the exact opposite: a liar is bound to lose his temper quicker than an honest gentleman."
"She is my daughter," he calmly explained after sitting back down. "As such, she is an heiress. She mustn't become a Huntress."
"Ah, but as such a powerful entity, she should be entitled to receive what gifts she chooses, should she not?"
"I can provide her anything, but I refuse to let her train as a Huntress—."
"Now there's your major issue: attachment. You are too attached to your daughter to allow her to do a thing, much less to see a way to both protect her and give her what she asks simultaneously."
"And what," he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Would that be?"
Alan just chuckled at the white-haired CEO. "Not 'what', but 'whom': me."
"WHAT," both Schnees knocked over their chairs standing up.
"Mm-hmm. Remember: you, Mister Schnee, hired me to protect her in the first place. After all, it is a genius way to give me more experience and her what she wants. Besides, who says that other Huntsmen in training aren't as strong as I?"
Two hands rose to shoulder height. Alan facepalmed, seeing that coming a mile away.
"Excluding me," he specified. The hands stayed level. "You know, I'm not as strong as Pyrrha Nikos, nor as fast and agile as the Blue Blur. I'm not even as smart as Sergeant Major Aaron Sharp. I just so happen to have a mighty Semblance passed on through the generations like your own."
Weiss scoffed and rolled her eyes while her father thought over all of this.
"Fine," he finally responded. "Your wishes are granted. You may both attend Beacon. I shall arrange transportation for the both of you."
Mr. Schnee left the Gardens, an odd uncertainty in his stride. His daughter almost followed before she noticed her guard still seated on the marble bench.
"Aren't you going to follow," she asked him. He just inhaled deeply before responding.
"You know, this garden has a mysterious aura about it. Some people have hypothesized that it was this very spot that a violent war was ended over a thousand years ago." Weiss scoffed.
"You believe in too much fiction," she scolded him. He finished off his tea in one long swig.
"So? I have reason to believe it as fact. After all, Douglas MacArthur fought the fabled Second Terror War and won. And over a thousand years later, his descendant is sitting on the very spot he made peace for the very last time." She just groaned at this.
"You and your fairy tales," she shook her head as she walked off. Alan grinned.
"She'll never learn, will she," Alan asked Douglas's ghost, ridding himself of the British accent and adopting his native Texan speech. The spirit shrugged.
"I dunno," his ancestor's soul responded with a similar Southern drawl. "I guess we'll never fig're that 'n out."
"Ach," Alan moaned as his tongue cried out for coffee. "I gotta get me some coffee, I'm dying over here." Douglas's ghost laughed.
"Naw, you ain't. Believe me, you ain't got no clue what dyin' feels like, sonny." It was Alan's turn to chuckle.
"You do have that." He checked his wrist watch. "Gah, tea time again. I've had enough of tea for a year or so now."
"Don't worry, kid; you only gotta last a few more days. Be grateful for that."
"Yeah," Alan sighed. "I'm gonna miss you, Doug."
"I will too. See you 'round, bud."
(3rd person)
(1 day ago, Atlanta, Vale, 00:00 AM Vale time)
A dark figure marched down an even darker alleyway between an old storage shed and an apartment complex. His right forearm, while covered by his cloak, was glowing in a Tron-styled blue light. The same went for his left calf, even though cargo pants, crew socks, and hiking boots covered the mechanical prosthetic. A scar tore across his left eye all the way down to the tip of his nose.
A feminine figure stepped out through a door of the apartment building. She seemed inspired by ice cream, with half of her hair and one eye pink and the others brown. Her boots clomped against the concrete as she waltzed towards the dark figure.
The two figures stopped about three inches apart, the man towering at least a foot over the woman. After a few moments of tense silence, the woman wrapped her arms around the man's neck with a little hop, with the man holding her up by the waist with his prosthetic arm.
"Hey, Ice Cream," the man called the girl by her nickname.
"Soldier Boy," she whispered in his ear, still cautious about speaking out loud.
The young lovers stayed like this for a few more moments before the two broke apart, Matthew letting Neo down as she moved her arms down to hold his hands. Her brown and pink eyes met his red and yellow ones. Like her, he could change the color of his eyes with technology implanted in his skull by the Red Angels. He may have been 'betrayed' by a traitor, but he was hired by his old faction to be a mole in the Outsiders. She, on the other hand, was broken: she was terrorized by the eventual traitor at a young age, and was thus unable to speak until she met Matt.
"They been treating you well," Matt asked Neo as they walked hand-in-hand out of the alley. She nodded as her eye color changed to green. His own red and yellow ones turned a bright shade of cobalt as the two entered the public streets of downtown Atlanta.
"What about you," she spoke quietly as her head rested on his arm. He took a deep breath.
"Still alive," he muttered. "I heard that those Outsider fellows are planning on sending a handful of members to Beacon Academy, me included of course." The two turned to look each other in the eye.
"Take care for me," she ordered, yawning a little as she did. He wrapped his prosthetic arm around her shoulders and held her close.
"Now, I know how to take care of myself," Sharp joked. "It's you I'm worried about." Neo giggled.
"If you weren't worried for me, I'd be worried," she mentioned. A thought crossed her mind as they rounded the corner. "What about that 'Arc' kid? How's he doing?"
"Well, he's certainly improving. His parents both got slaughtered by the Bandits a week or so ago; to go with that, I hear a few of his cousins are in the Red Table, so I suspect he's taking it well as far as catastrophe goes." She shuddered at the reference to the rogue Knights of the Red Table, a band of young swordsmen inspired by the story of King Arthur.
"I just hope the Blood Hounds don't get to him," she nearly whimpered, huddling closer to her lover for warmth. The couple entered a small café miraculously still open and took a seat at the bar. Matthew slapped down around 15 lien and ordered a hot chocolate and coffee.
"They won't, trust me. After what they did to us, they'll all be dead before they manage to lay a finger on him." His left arm—still untouched by mechanics—clenched violently as he remembered all the things the research division of the Red Angels did to him. Neo rested her head on his massive chest, pacifying his anger.
The couple's drinks arrived. Matthew passed the sweeter drink to Neo and kept the coffee, which she thanked him for with a small peck on the cheek. He would've blushed since they were in public, but the café was empty outside of the waitress, who was off in the kitchen or somewhere.
After the two finished their drinks, Matthew walked hand-in-hand with Neo as he walked her back to her apartment complex. She yawned and used his right arm as a pillow as they walked the rest of the way to her temporary home.
Finally at her home, the lovers stopped. Matt and Neo gazed into each other's eyes for some time, having let their true colors show after entering the alley. She did a little hop and wrapped her arms around his neck as she did earlier that night, letting him hold her up with his prosthetic arm. Despite how tired the two were, they shared a short but passionate kiss before releasing one another and going to their respective homes.
A few minutes later, Matthew's Scroll dinged; opening it up, he read his girlfriend's message: "Goodnight, have fun at Beacon". He smiled and returned the message:
"Love you too, g'night."
END
A/N: How was that for an ending? Keep in mind, I've never done 'fluff' before, as I'm more of an action guy (as seen with the vast majority of my failed fics).
More sub-factions of the Red Angels have been introduced, so let me describe them real quick:
Knights of the Red Table—this gang, notorious for its use of Dust- and Aura-enhanced swords and red shields, is (as if not obvious) influenced by the story of Lancelot in King Arthur's tale.
Red Bandits—these fellows are influenced by … I forgot the guy's name, but you know who I'm talking about.
Blood Hounds—this is the research division of the Red Angels, infamous and named for their willingness to hunt people down just to do their research, just like a blood hound.
So, one little bitty ship has sailed already. Just to explain, Matt still works with the Red Angels for two reasons: 1) to keep an eye on his girlfriend, and 2) to earn some extra cash. Besides, the Angels don't take kindly to traitors; as well as this, he owes the Blood Hounds for putting him back together.
Stick around for the poll I'm going to set up, and think about your answers carefully: who do you think is going to be on the OC team?
Be sure to drop a review if you liked it, and I'll see you fellas around. Adios.