RWBY: Lone Wolf
Chapter One: Initiation Part Two of Three, Huff and Puff.
Author Comments:
There, having the comments here actually feels less awkward.
When I started writing fanfictions I was pretty naive, but I had fun so if you ever choose to take a peak at my humble beginings then do be warned. Cliche tropes, typos (some that I still do I'm afraid) and not treating canon characters and events with care. You can only do so much with the AU excuse.
The characters of Grå Stoft and her soon to be team are not meant to be the heroes of the world here, different from my old Sonic OC that.. yes I am not so proud of these days. (Even though I still feel some of his ideas had potential and therefore he's been fully reconstructed for a comic I'm currently writting a script for and hope to get somewhere soon.)
They are not going to have too big of a interaction with the main cast and when I say that I don't mean that they shall never share a word, interact violently or even ignore each others existance. The whole point of this is to give the main series and it's main heroes another perspective, to further solidify why I love them so much and hopefuly why you love them as well. Or hate. RWBY's a bit like the X-Men. If there's someone you hate, you can always find someone you'll adore. Or vice-versa!
All I mean is that there can't be any romances between my fan-characters and almost ANY of the series proper. Even the "EYUUUP" guy that came to class without his uniform. Seriously, what the hell dude?
But relationships? Connection? Debates and even agressive rivalries? Probably. But keep in mind I'm trying to stick to canon as TIGHT as possible. Grå and friends wont be in the fight on the docks of Vale for example, because they never were there in the main series. Off-screen events and minor characters and such are free game for me however. By "off-screen" this also includes situations that are shown on screen but my created characters can still interact with. The Landing stragegy, for example. Anything with nameless faceless shadows of people in the background or even the generic background characters of later seasons. Big attacks where civilians and most likely other students would be but aren't focused on because Roosterteeth wants you to see the main four kick butt? Could happen to.
Mainly, "off-screen" refers to events you aren't show in the series. This could be events with some importance that are only mentioned but I might be careful of those since we never know if it might be revealed to us later. (A good example is the hints of backstory to the villians in the episode "Beginning of the End". It wasn't much but definitely enough to change the way we look at the timeline of the series and the it's inhabitants.)
This could also be more safe situations like.. the classes we don't see! Anytime team JNPR isn't shown or any other team. Times between episodes that have a signifiant timeskip.
The reasons I have these rules is that while I LOVE making fancharacters I've come to respect the work that goes into any source material much more. It's one thing to do a AU and another to have the focus on a made up character you created. New characters show up in shows all the time but tend to either add to the show or fill a empty spot, not necessarily change everything you've come to know. There might be crushes, there might be rivalries but this is to be treated as a full on alternative-perspective spin-off. Canon is GOD to me.
This is a longer one, but I hope you enjoy it. You'll find out more about the main character and why she's going to Beacon.
"So. Am I under arrest?"
The police offer kept rubbing her wrinkly forehead with several slow sighs as she looked down at the wolf tailed faunus seated below her across a table. The law enforcer removed her hand from her head and slowly began to move it down, only to slap the table in a loud fashion.
She lowered her eyebrows and held back a smile as her action had the desired effect, causing the girl to cringe and move her head back in surprise.
"Look, kid. You might be underage but.. Well if it was for me-" She moved closer to the table, sliding the hand forward on it as she leaned over to look the girl in the eyes. "-none of you crazy arse minors would be allowed to run around with your weapons outside of the academies!"
Grå, the faunus, moved her head back forward as the finger of the policewoman came pointing at her.
"And don't give me that excuse about Grimm's! You were in a illegal fighting ring, underground with people associated to known criminal groups and followers of the White Fang!"
The woman pointed down at the sleeveless blue shirt of the faunus, particular it's symbol of a white beowulf's head within a white circle.
"You're wearing their symbol for crying out loud!"
The faunus blinked, keeping her eyes at the officer as she turned her head left and right before finally moving her sight down at the shirt.
She stared at it, brushed some of the old dirt and sand from her previous fight off and looked back up at the enforcer.
With a shrug.
"It's their old symbol."
Now it was the officer that moved back with a blink.
"Excuse.. Excuse me?! Do you think that actually matters to-"
"It's their OLD symbol." Grå repeated, calmly sliding her hands unto the table and leaning forward.
"Their OLD symbol. Not the Red Menace thing the new guys got going- And do you seriously think the 'modern' White Fang would associate with, and this is just me quoting them since it ain't my beliefs, mere humans?"
She leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms before looking away.
"If you're going to arrest me, do so for underground fighting. Not suspicion of bigger stuff I don't even care about."
Her eyes moved back over to the officer, who did not seem happy. She too had her arms crossed but kept silent as they slowly moved over to the table.
"Alright then, so let's talk about this fight club. Were you partaking in the gambling?"
Grå considered the question, glancing away before nodding.
"Yup."
"So you admit that you were partaking in illegal activities?"
"...you mean beside punching people in the face?" The faunus answered with a raised eyebrow. The officer was just about to shout loudly, only to be stopped by a finger in the air.
"With consent, I may add. I mean, is it really all that bad if we all say 'hey it's cool if you punch me in the face okay'?"
The hands of the policewoman met her own face, slowly sliding over her fingers and through her raven dark hair.
"Look, kid. You're not just in some small situation where you're caught stealing and we need to call your parents." She sighed, dragging out a chair and taking a seat on it. In the hip reverse way.
"You may just have been there for the fights, but the place is used as a daily get together by seriously dangerous groups. You're indirectly connected to them now, so you have two options."
She held out two fingers at the girl who, again, blinked.
"Either you don't give us any information we want, get put in a cell till our investigators find something interesting and hope your parents have a good lawyer. Or.."
A shrug. "You tell us everything you know-" She tilted her head, smiling softly at the girl as her arms hung over the back of the chair.
"-and we can come to a deal."
The girl snorted, the policewoman choosing to frown in annoyance at the response.
"What, the famous Ozpin of Vale is going to show up and say my tremendous skill could be used better in his prestigious academy?"
Grå laughed, shaking her head and leaning further into the chair.
The officer smiled softly again, shrugging silently.
"Wait." Grå blinked, glancing to the mirror window behind the enforcer with a tilt of her head.
She turned back to the officer who stood up from the chair, moving her hands behind her back.
She nodded.
"Wait are you serious?" The girl stood up, turning to the door. She was staring it down, swallowing in anticipation as she observed the only entrance to the room.
Nobody came in. The officer was covering her mouth, barely holding back laughter.
"Oh." Grå turned back to the adult, shoulders moving down in defeat. "Oh come on! Really?!"
The laughter got loud and the officer held onto her belly, leaning forward and then leaning back.
Grå just threw her hands up and groaned in annoyance, sitting back down.
The officer kept laughing, rubbing one of her eyes as the other was busy holding her stomach.
Grå sighed, looking around the room. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned back to the officer, who was still laughing.
"I get it." The faunus said, putting a hand on her neck and pressing down at the bone to hear a semi-calming crack.
The officer laughed softer, but still laughed.
"I GET IT."
The officer calmed down, the laugh dying in the shape of a chuckle before the woman shook her head and sat back down. Properly this time.
"No." She said, with a snort.
"No kid. Nothing like that. But that is a good question, isn't it. Why are you using your skills in illegal fighting rings when you could use it for something better, as a huntress."
"Publicity."
"What."
The officer blinked, tilting her head. "You want.. publicity?"
"Nooooo." The girl said, slowly shaking her head in sync with her statement before leaning forward again.
"I don't want publicity. I've already gone to a primary combat school, Sanctum actually."
She smirked proudly at the officer. "I was pretty good, grades didn't end up that badly either."
She stretched her arms forward, yawning.
"It was good. Learned many things. Defend myself, use different weapons. Designed my own weapon too and learned how to use it effective in offense and defense."
She slapped her hands together, grinning.
"And how to help people. How to kick butt for good reasons. It was fun. Even entered the local MRT! The 'Mistral Regional Tournament'."
She waved her arms open dramatically in the air and chuckled before looking at the officer, seeing her blink at her in a thoughtful manner.
The woman leaned forward, focusing her eyes on the blue ones of the faunus.
And then she leaned back into her seat, eyes widening open.
"You were second at the Tournament a year ago! Grå Ståft! The claw-blade wielder who kept the last fight against Pyrrah Nikos going for almost ten minutes!"
"Uh, yeah."
The officer flew up to her feet and stepped forward again, slapping her hands again the table.
Again.
"Woah, calm down!" Grå pleaded, holding her palms out in a defensive manner.
"What are you doing here?! You REALLY should be out there learning! Not just anybody keeps a fight with Miss Nikos going for that long! You-"
"Publicity!"
The officer backed off from the table and coughed into her fist before pretending to wipe something off her sleeves.
"Publicity, ma'am! I can't just waltz into Haven and say 'Hi! I wanna be a huntress! Oh and I got my behind handed to me by the local champion. Put the spotlights on me!'"
A loud sigh and a table falling up into her forehead. She just leaned forward like that, head lying down at the table.
"I just want to learn new ways to express my body and my style, maybe help people on the way there."
She shrugged with her shoulders, sighing once more.
"I don't know. Maybe I'll just become a cop or something. That wont make as much as a big d-"
And then she stopped, slowly looking up at a grinning officer.
"Heh. You want to become a law enforcer, huh?"
"Aw crap."
Grå facepalmed, breathing in and breathing out.
"You know, getting arrested for-"
"Is not a great start, I get it!" The faunus finished, previously facepalming palm landing against the table in a violent way as she stared back up at the officer.
"I get it okay! I get the irony! I get that this... shirt is most likely not helping either, even though it has a COMPLETELY different context!"
And then the door opened, both females turning to it as a cane hit against the floor and a man with gray hair walked in slowly.
Grå chuckled quietly, noticing how the gray hair clashed against the long brown beard of the older policeman.
"We're going to have to let her go."
"Excuse me?! Sir, please I think I've managed to get on her good side-"
"Thaaat pretty much ended when you said it out loud." The faunus said, standing up and slapping her hands against the sides of her legs with a big dumb grin on her face.
"My dad's picking me up, huh?" She said before laughing and then ceasing to laugh as the cane was pointed at her.
"Young lady, this has to stop. Old friends or not, you're about to damage my relationship with your father."
Grå sighed, rolling her eyes as the woman protested ("Excuse me, she's a regular and your letting her go?!") and was about to walk over to the two before the man moved off the doorway and allowed the faunus to just get the heck out of there already.
Much later the young faunus was sitting in the passenger's seat of a green truck without anything to deliver but herself. Her head was leaning against the window and staring outside it as the man driving her, noticeably lacking any faunus appendages of his own, kept his eyes on the road with perhaps the occasional glance at his daughter.
She just sighed now and then, not returning any of the glances of feeling much like speaking up. Neither seemed willing, really. They both chose to keep themselves occupied in their current activities.
Driving and trying to come up with good counterarguments so your dad wouldn't make you feel bad in the end.
Grå rolled her eyes at the situation. This wasn't anything new. She wasn't a insane thrill seeker but she loved a good figth- No. She loved a good time fighting alongside someone. Opposition. Something that forced her to express herself through her moves at the best of her ability. Pure honest fighting. Not those competitions, not that rules weren't necessary, where not a group of people are watching.
In those fights, the world is watching. Questioning you, perhaps even judging your ways and your style. After all, at that moment when she saw that the window she was pressed against started to catch small snowflakes that indicated that they were almost all the way out north, she came to remember that her fighting style had the primary focus on taking down humanoids.
Not Grimm. People. She shrugged, staring down at the road they drove past and taking notice on how more and more snow started to show up. She moved her eyes up, catching the sight of a outpost with a watchtower.
Most likely to keep an eye on Grimm. They were just about at the edge of the kingdom.
Then the car stopped, the faunus moving her head back and glancing at her father.
Crap, were they there already?
"What do you think about walking the rest of the way?"
He looked at her. He seemed calm, if thoughtful. The sigh indicated he was still disappointed but the shrug and the smile that he still loved her.
Glancing out the window again she saw a sign, making it clear they had parked by a resting station. The roads on the edge of the kingdom were tiring, long and dangerous after all..
She turned back to her father and met his smile with her own.
"I think that could be nice."
She'd turn to open the door but felt two fingers pat her on the shoulder, her father's eyes staring into hers when she turned back before glancing at the glove compartment in front of her.
Blinking in surprise over her forgetfulness and to hide a roll of her eyes she opened it and dragged out a pair of fluffy fake-fur boots, moving them down under her feet so she could slide them over the straps on her feet. She had a tendency to walk like that when it wasn't in the sun, wraps under and over her feet but not on the heel or toes. It just felt nice, like the feet were just dressed but still free.
Turning to the door she felt another pair of fingers tapping the shoulder again. She turned to her dad, he glanced at the glove compartment and she glanced inside before dragging out a few brown straps and two metal plates the size of her palms. Three holes on one of the sides and several places for the straps to connect.
"Where are just outside the walls, after all. Better safe then sorry." Hearing her father say this caused Grå to chuckle as she connected the straps to the plates and placed them on the back of each hand, slowly strapping everything onto her arms and hands.
"Yeah.. Thanks for keeping an eye on them, Scotch."
'Vilt-Bett' was her personal weapon, created together with her 'Uncle Scratch' back in Vale when she had been younger and was free from Sanctum at the time. Or rather, the idea and start of the construction had begun there and ended at home in the combat school. Her babe had been created primarily to tackle humans, as she saw them as the more dangerous of creatures in her world.
It all started with a cute little wish to be like her uncle. Claws, he had. Naturally too, able to force them out of his fingers whenever he wanted to and had to defend himself without his weapon. He had been so cool, showing off what he could do.
The straps on, Grå placed her right hand over her left wrist as the left fingers began to move in different formations and causing some sort of reaction on the battle claw. Wiggle certain fingers, spin the thumb or perhaps tilt the hand in a unusual way. The straps connected to it were all sensitive to any movement, causing her little test run in the truck to have a claw poke out of the plate.
Left claw, right claw, middle claw and all claws.
Move the arm backwards, move it up and forward again while tilting your hand to the left.
A metallic noise snapped loudly in the car, one of her beauty's acceptable flaws. It was audible, but did the job. She smiled as the plate with the claws had spun over her hand to it's palm.
"You're not shooting those in here." She had to laugh at her father's protest.
"I'm not stupid!"
Re-enact the movement, backwards and it went back to the back of the hand. She tested similar movements with her right claw before feeling satisfied that her babies were working. She sent her two arms in opposite directions, left arm to the right and vice-versa. The inner workings of Vilt-Bett clicked and the plates moved over her straps, stopping over her elbow and turning so the exit holes of the blades themselves were pointing upwards towards her shoulders.
She grinned, feigning a thrust with her elbow at the air in front of her so the sound of the blades themselves was heard at their reappearance.
Lowering her hands and the blades re-entering the plates she nodded at her dad, Scotch, to signal that she was ready.
"Alright dad, unless I'm forgetting something else.."
She'd shrug after her words, smiling as bright of a smile as she could.
"No." Scotch said with a chuckle, taking his key off the engine and opening the door to his left.
"You're good for now."
Scotch Weed was adjusting the belt over his chest, glancing behind him from time to time to make sure that the holster was strapped tightly and that his sawed-off shotgun, 'Fanged Percussion' which was a gift from a old snake-eyed friend, wasn't going to fall of anytime soon. He tapped the fairly long removable stock which wasn't the typical solid wood but a stock shaped metal form with a alternative handle in the middle of it, meant to be taken hold of and drag the stock off the gun to release it's blade in case of that pesky close quarter combat.
Wasn't his style, but he was glad to be prepared. He'd glance at his baby girl and smile silently to himself, sighing.
Prepared. He really should have been prepared for her to run into trouble again, she'd learned from the best. Young-Scotch.
Damn you Young-Scotch and your entertaining bad life lessons.
The weather was beginning to catch on, nothing horrible just a little bit more wind and snow. He took out his scroll and dragged it open, nodding in satisfaction to see that the fire-dust fueled warmth generators back home were still functional. He did like being able to keep his crops alive in the current climate, it was good business. Seeing that tall grass for a last time, standing proudly to the left and right of his fairly mansion-like two story house.
Oh right, that reminded him.
"Grå." He earned a look from her. The 'I love you and I know I did bad but do we have to' look.
"You know this is the last time."
"Dad-"
Her head moved backwards in surprise, eyes focused on the fingers that had just snapped in front of her face. Her tail stood up in the cold air, showing she was alert.
"I mean it. Also, let me finish talking."
They stared at each other for a moment, his fingers twitching from the cold rising. Damn it, he stopped walking again. He needed to stop doing that.
"Let's keep walking." He nodded to the path up the hill, the same they took with the pickup everyday when the weather was too harsh for the whole truck.
"But keep listening!"
Step by step, he felt her watching him still. Good, she was consciously focusing on him now.
"I want you.. And let me finish!" Scotch found himself stopping again, holding his palm out at his daughter before moving again.
"I'm not going to interrupt you.. Just say what you want to say. Dad."
"I want you to go to Vale." "I-"
It wasn't a glare that she recieved yet Grå winced at the sight of the look. The two stopped in their tracks yet again.
"Keep going?" He asked and was given a shrug, met by continued steps.
"I want you to travel to Vale and go to their huntress academy, Beacon."
She didn't look at him this time but kept walking and listening. He knew she didn't like what he was saying and was going to protest the moment she knew she could without getting in trouble.
"I know you don't want to become a huntress because you have no interest in Grimm. I understand that. You feel it's our fellow man, humans and faunus that are the more important target. I've seen you fight, how you focus your dust use with Vilt-Bett to penetrate aura force fields and cause direct damage."
The human adult kept his eyes forward, seeing their house in the distance. Snow kept falling but the wind was calming down, most likely from the house above and the mountain cliff behind it that cut off most of the weather.
"You want to be a policewoman?" He looked at her, she didn't look back. "Well, let's pretend you were not breaking the law for thrills and less then safe ways to learn other people's styles and how to prefect your own. Where's your application?"
"Dad-"
"Where's your part-time job while you wait for being accepted into a police academy?" He opened his arms, shrugging and looking straight at his daughter. "You may be a minor but you're gradually growing up. This is the time when you make decisions or you'll end up an old one, struggling past their own obstacles."
"I get it!"
He stepped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked up and he closed his eyes as soon as he noticed that familiar white glow in hers.
His grip on her shoulders tightened.
"Young Grå Stoft Weed, you will turn off your semblance this instant or I wont look you in the eye!"
She was silent, the wind seemed to get intense again before calming down. He felt his heartbeat still jump a little quicker, signifying that he hadn't been affected by her semblance.
"It's off."
He sighed, rubbing his forehead but keeping his eyelids down.
"Are you-"
"I'm sure. Open your stupid eyes."
He opened them, seeing her wild hair caught in the wind as she looked away with her now natural blue eyes and her arms crossed.
"Why Beacon?"
"Because I know you don't want to go to Haven. People might recognize you, that's one of the main reasons you're not studying yet. You don't like unnecessary attention, you feel it slows you down."
"But I'm not antisocial."
Grå turned to her father and looked him directly into his eyes.
"I like.. People. I just don't like strangers coming up-"
"I'm your father."
That answer kept her silent for a while, head low. The wind went around the two, weak but still very much alive. It caught her hair, sending it to the left for a few seconds and then to the right.
Then it covered her eyes, much to her annoyance and his amusement.
He didn't chuckle, of course. He was a good father.
"A huntress can still.. help people and protect them from.. other people. And keeping Grimm away may seem like something everyone does, something that's part of life.. but it's because it is a necessity. For living."
Scotch removed his hands from Grå's shoulders and turned around, tilting his head as he looked at their house.
"And it will be a new start. It will open doors for you to choose. You can do anything you want, opportunity becomes your slave. I just.. want the best of you. You're not doing anything for your own future here. When it comes to keeping your future as good as possible, here isn't safe."
"Uncle Scratch is there right now, right? With a store and everything."
The old man shook his head. A soft laughter escaped his lips and he just kept moving forward towards the front of the house. His laughter grew, earning embarrassed chuckles from his daughter behind of him.
"H-hey!" She protested and he just laughed less loudly again, but laughed still. His hand moved down his face and through his thick beard and he felt the laughter in his throat turn into a chuckle.
"You still call him that? He has a name."
"He'll always be Uncle Scratch to me!" She was beside him now, smiling. It felt good to see her smile like that, like she was a naïve 'Supid Red Menace fakers aren't White fang' kid again. The kid he knew was always there.
His beautiful adopted daughter.
He stopped walking, cracking his neck and stretching his arms above him as he took notice of his home. Straight path into the house, thick tall grass and crops to his left and right, mountain wall behind him, cliff side to the far right and finally his tool-shed to the far left. Then there was the pickup truck down in the basement, which had it's exit just a few steps back down the road.
He placed a left hand on his daughter's shoulder, glancing at the crops to his left.
"Weather's picking up." He didn't have to look at her to know what look she was giving him. He could feel the intense eyes as she had recognized his choice of words.
"Perhaps you should smell the fresh air when you still can, when it yet have taken you off guard."
He just stared at the sky for a while. It was silent, everything but the wind. He didn't need a telltale sign from the ground or the door or the crops. He just knew. There was a reason he had given his daughter that speech. Perhaps she knew it now, as her faunus nose picked up what he knew was already there."
"I'd say we have about two days before the wind gets intense."
"How will it go for the crops?" He turned to his left and right, ignoring the dust powered heat engines that were keeping his crops alive and warm.
"They might just get ambushed by birds."
There.
Ambush from the crops. Someone in the tall grass. She continued smelling the air with a glance at her father. He caught her eye. Nervous.
"Maybe we'll be lucky and it will just be a single crow."
One in the crops. The second one was somewhere else.
"Want to head inside, it's getting cold after all?" He looked her straight in the eyes and he saw her head twitch. She almost shook her head.
"I think it will be crowded and I'd enjoy some more time with the air."
There was someone in the building.
He glanced at her tail. She was keeping it down, good. It had taken ages for he to learn that but the last thing they needed was a hint of her alertness.
"I'll see you inside." He moved forward towards the door and heard her laugh a false laugh.
"Just remember to prepare the dog-food!" She joked and he pressed his fingers against his palms, trying his best not to breath to deeply and loudly.
Faunus.
The Red Menace was here. The Modern White Fang.
Those animals were intruding on her home.
Perhaps she had no right calling them that as she had her fluffy wolf tail, now wrapped around her waist like another one of her many belts.
She adjusted the gray shirt under her sleeveless blue one and it's sewed on gloves, the one with the true symbol of the real White Fang.
The one with actual White in it.
She didn't care about their faunus heritage. That wasn't what she meant with 'animals'. She meant mindless, illogical, impractical bloodthirsty animals because that was what she saw every time she heard anything about the Red Menace. Murders. Robberies. Stolen documents and planned militant attacks.
And now there was some coward in her crops, her own at the left, hiding and waiting. The wind made it hard to pinpoint the person but she knew they're were there, within the tall glass. Perhaps camouflaged to fit in with the warm and growing flora.
Proper context sensitive camouflage, even? So they had been here for a while.
She was trying her best to sit on a rock, stare at some birds and just seem part depressive and part thoughtful. Do something unimportant so she wouldn't be noticed, buying her enough time to notice the exact location of the potential assailant.
She didn't hear much from the house. Scotch- Dad was probably still looking.
She knew she wouldn't be the direct target, hence her 'show them your back' attitude to the situation. Seem unimportant and safe and they'll move on to their target proper, giving you time to strike.
A long breath entered her lungs before slowly escaping out of her mouth. She was observing something crawling in the snow now. The turret gun on the mountain sounded, probably shooting down a Grimm that flied too close.
'Why can't they just leave him alon-' Tchkt.
'Don't tense your muscles. Don't stop breathing. Keep your heartbeat calm and your tail around your waist.'
She had heard something from the crops, most likely a reaction to the turret gun. Somebody hadn't done their research and mistook it for a attack. They hadn't moved away from their location.
But they had flinched.
'That's enough.'
Slowly she stood up. Slowly she moved towards the door, playing with her fingers and moving them around and spinning them.
'Left foot down, spin it lightly to the left and-'
The moment she turned she had moved her wrist in front of her eye, her claws unsheathed from the metal plates and catching two throwing knives in-between her own blades while the third left a small scar on the leather strap hanging on her left shoulder before bouncing off thanks to her aura.
That's when she threw the knives back, pushed her left arm back and then forward so that the plate would place itself on her palm and shoot out her claws towards the crops with it's chains following.
And then she dashed forward.