Chapter 2

Luc had taken on a fair amount of deadly challenges in his short life. He had torn through packs of Beowulf, cleared out caves full of ursa, and had even defeated a deathstalker singlehandedly. That made him even more curious as to why just sitting next to this girl scared him out of his wits. She had proven to be surprisingly amiable, having struck up a conversation about dueling before the food had arrived. Once the plate arrived at her seat, however, any semblance of conversation immediately dissipated.

To the average person, she seemed quite normal, besides the fact that she wolfed her food down faster than his drunk, overweight uncle during the holidays. The ferocity with which she tore the bone off of her fourth turkey leg betrayed the fact that she was only five and a half feet feet tall, and must have weighed just one hundred pounds and change. Even with her slight frame, she still managed to terrify him. It wasn't her size, or even her ability to control fire. No, it was her eyes.

Her eyes were the color of a dying fire at the break of dawn. A light gray with jet black pupils, they seemed to briefly flash red whenever she was angered, as if someone was blowing on a dying pile of coals. A glare shot in your direction was enough to quiet even the most boisterous of people. She had used it on a foolish boy who thought she would be easy prey for some extra food. A quick flash of anger, and the boy nearly wet his pants. His friends had laughed at him, but were quickly silenced by a glare in their direction. Luc didn't want to know what was behind her death stares. It was like looking into an endless pit of hell.

But for now, the devil's lenses were calmed by a hefty portion of meats, cheeses, and an entire pitcher of juice. She was finishing her third plate of food as another person walked up and seated themselves on his left. He glanced over at her, and recognized her as Blake, the girl from the train.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she inquired. Despite the entire length of the table being practically deserted, she had chosen to sit right next to him.

"Not at all," he replied, scooting his tray over to make room for her.

"Thanks," she said as she began to cut into the fish on her plate. "How's the fire princess doing after her little scuffle with the ice queen?"

Halfway through a helping of mashed potatoes, Ember's eyes jolted upwards and found their mark. Another harrowing glare was shot towards the newest member of their group. To Luc's astonishment, Blake's amber eyes calmly met the fiery grey of Ember's, batting the stare aside like a fly. She looked almost amused by it.

"You're going to have to do a lot better than that, princess." Blake said coolly.

Ember's eyes narrowed even further, her gaze intensifying so much that Luc was scared the room would just go up in flames. If he didn't do something soon, this could end very badly. More than likely only small piles of ash would remain in the aftermath.

Luckily, his diversion would be provided for him. A streak of blue and yellow screamed past them, coming to a stop at the end of the table. A boy with scraggly blonde hair and ill-fitting clothing and armor rose from the ground, dazed. A roar came from another boy at the end of the table. Luc recognized him as the large boy who tried to steal Ember's food. His mace was drawn, and he was visibly irritated.

"You're gonna pay for that!" he bellowed. It wasn't until Luc saw the gravy running down the boy's chest plate that he understood the situation. The boy charged at his dazed opponent, whose eyes widened in fear, as the large boy ran towards him, yelling. His roar was swiftly cut off by the sickening crunch of bone meeting bone. He stumbled into the table next to him, and used his free hand to steady himself. He looked up at his assailant. The equally large boy, dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans, stood in a combat stance, his knuckles bleeding lightly from the impact.

"Leave. Him. Alone." Luc growled.

"Make me," the other boy snarled, raising his mace. Luc deftly sidestepped the attack and landed a punch square in the boy's nose, staggering him. Checking his nose for blood, the boy attacked once again. This time, Luc stepped in and drove his fist up through his opponent. The boy flew up in the air as his mace clattered to the ground. Rolling to his feet, the boy readied himself for hand to hand combat.

A group had formed around the two, eagerly cheering for every strike. The two opponents circled each other, waiting for an opening. Luc charged his opponent, ducking underneath a punch and sweeping the floor with his leg. His opponent saw it coming and jumped easily over his leg, landing a devastating kick to Luc's ribs. Luc staggered to his feet, clutching his ribs. The other boy smirked at the sign of weakness. He charged again, this time unleashing a barrage of vicious punches. Luc quickly reacted and blocked nearly all of his punches. But one found its intended mark, hitting Luc right in the weak spot of his ribs. He staggered backwards, falling to the floor before standing again.

Luc was certain at least two of his ribs were broken, maybe more. He wheezed, struggling to catch his breath with every step. He bowed his head to breathe. Before he could look up, his opponent landed a powerful kick to the side of his head.

Stars popped in his vision as he felt himself fly through the air. Landing with a sickening thud, he closed his eyes, preparing himself for the finishing blow. He laid there for a moment before realizing that it had never come. As he cracked his eyes open, he saw a black ribbon wrapped around the other boy's neck as two plumes of fire sprang to life, illuminating the boy's terrified expression. He struggled to watch the scene before him until his eyes closed and he slowly slipped away from consciousness.

A silence hung among the trees on a warm spring day. The leaves waved lazily, and everything seemed to be still. Its serenity was suddenly pierced by the sounds of combat. A duo of young boys, one of them 15, the other no older than 13, circled each other in a small clearing, locked in an intense duel. The younger of them was stockier, with brown hair that fell into his blue eyes far too often. His opponent was tall and lanky, a mop of blonde hair sitting atop his head, penetrated by a pair of dark brown eyes. The younger boy was visibly upset.

"It's no fair! I can't do anything to you! All I ever do is hit your shield. Can't you let me win for once?" the young boy cried out.

"If I just let you win, would it really be a victory?" the older boy responded.

"Well, duh. I would win. That's kinda what a victory is," the younger remarked.

The older boy chuckled. "Let me rephrase that. If you don't get any better from it, is it really a victory?"

"Yes."

"No. It is not."

"Yes it is."

"Have you won yet?"

"Well… no."

"Then how can you say what victory is?"

At this last statement, the young boy roared and charged. Over the course of the next half hour, their swords and shields clashed against each other. The young boy grew more and more frustrated with each blocked strike. After beating against his opponent's shield to no avail, the boy threw down his weapons and stormed off. He quickly stopped in his tracks as he spotted the man leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest. His silver armor glinted in the sunlight, the blue and yellow highlights shone bright. An intricate design was carved into the breastplate, and a massive broadsword was attached to his back. His brown eyes found the boy's, and he beckoned the boy over.

The tracks of dried tears ran down the boy's face, but he stood defiant, even in defeat. The man crouched down next to the boy and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. He clasped the young boy's hands in his hands.

"Luc?" the man asked.

"Y- yes, Un- Uncle Mark?"The boy choked out, fighting back tears.

"You remember what I told you in our first lesson?"

"Not to die?"

The man laughed. "Yes, that's very important, but I was talking about the other thing. About being unpredictable. As much as you want him to be, your cousin AJ over there isn't your typical Grimm. He thinks, he learns, and he reacts. Grimm are easy. Humans are much, much harder. Just like you, they think and they act upon what they learn. If you have a weakness, they'll exploit it. If you have a pattern, they'll counter it. That's why the most important thing to be when fighting another person is to be unpredictable. If they don't know what you'll do next, they can't defend against it." He straightened, and whispered to the boy, "Now, I noticed that you only seem to be striking downward. Why don't you try swinging up for once?"

The boy's bravado returned full force. His face shone brightly, armed with the knowledge to win. He ran over and picked up his sword and shield and charged at his cousin. His swung his sword towards his cousin… only to have his strike blocked yet again. His uncle shook his head, and his cousin smiled.

"Looks like I got you aga-"

AJ's sentence was cut off by the impact of a shield on the top his head. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his skull. The young boy stood over him triumphantly. By setting his defenses low and blocking Luc's upward swing, he opened himself up to a quick overhead smash from Luc's shield.

Mark let out a boisterous laugh. "You are truly a special person, Luc. You never seem to do what we tell you, but you always make it work. Now why don't we head home? I heard your Aunt Erica is making her delicious raspberry pie."

At the mention of pie, the two boys raced each other home. Tonight, they were both winners.

Waking up from being knocked unconscious is never pleasant. It's like fighting through a never ending fog inside your own head. Luc had dragged himself through this excruciating process many times before but he never gotten used to it. After several excruciating moments, he was finally greeted by the formation of the room around him. Judging by the silence and sterility of the room he was laying in, he was in the infirmary. He had been through this process enough to know that sitting up right away was a bad idea, so he took stock of his injuries. His ribs were sore, but they were healing quickly. Luckily, his nose had not been broken. He once had a broken nose that took two months to heal because he kept hitting it on everything. Unfortunately, his concussion was there to stay. His aura would take begin to take care of it after his ribs were healed anyways. He took a couple moments to gather his strength, and rolled over onto his side.

A face was waiting just inches away from his. He let out a yelp and caught a glimpse of two grey eyes as the momentum from his recoil carried him over the edge of the bed. He heard laughter from the other side of the bed. He used the bed to drag himself into a kneeling position, his face and arms resting on top of the bed. Ember was sitting in a chair crying from her laughter, and Blake was positioned in the adjacent bed, giggling into her hand.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he groaned as he rose to his feet. His ribs were healing, but they still hurt like the devil.

"You should have seen your face," Ember managed to squeeze out in between laughs. She did what he could only presume was a mock interpretation, making a horrified face and odd noises as she fell off her chair. This drove the two girls into an even more violent fit of laughter.

He decided to take this opportunity to clear his head of the persistent migraine. The infirmary opened up to a balcony that overlooked most of the school. The sky was dark, signifying that more than a few hours had passed while he was out. A full moon shone bright in the night sky, surrounded by a seemingly infinite field of stars. He leaned up against the railing and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. The crisp night air invigorated his senses and removed the fog from his mind. Back to his normal self, he turned around to head back into the school.

Both girls were standing directly behind him. He reeled back in surprise again, catching himself on the railing.

His eyes narrowed. "If you guys don't stop doing this, I'll-"

"You'll do what?" Ember contested, her eyes flashing red. Any reply from him was cut off by a crippling glare.

"Ozpin told us that we're to head back to the auditorium for the night. That's where all the first-year students are spending the night," Blake stated calmly. "He also mentioned that he needed to see you in his office."

He wasn't particularly surprised by this. He had, after all, incited a brawl in the cafeteria that probably destroyed a good amount of property. More than likely, he would be given a slap on the wrist, and sent out. Quick, easy, and painless.

He had been seated for what seemed like hours as a very tall woman with very high heels chastised him for his behavior. Her vibrant green eyes scolded him from behind her glasses as she paced in front of him.

"Do you have any idea how much damage you caused? And I had to clean it all up! Not even one day, and students are already trashing the school," she admonished. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides. As she had been yelling at him, she had grown visibly angrier as time wore on.

"Glynda, I think it is time to give the boy a rest. He has been through a lot today." The man seated at his desk finally spoke up. Glynda was clearly upset, but listened to the man's instructions. His eyes peered out at Luc over his circular spectacles as he took another sip from his mug, studying the teenager. Behind him, gears turned the clock that served as the office's window.

"You're just going to let him go without punishment?" the woman asked.

"I think listening to you scold him for almost an hour was punishment enough." The woman's eyes narrowed. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, Glynda, I need to speak to him alone."

Muttering something about little devils, Glynda stormed out of the room. The man at the desk turned his attention back to the boy seated in front of him. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.

"I'm guessing you're Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of this school," Luc replied.

"You would be correct young man. And why do you think I called you up here?"

"Because I got in a fight and trashed your cafeteria?" Luc answered.

Ozpin chuckled. "It was not the first time that has happened, and it certainly will not be the last. No, I called you up here because I have something to give you." Luc look confused. He had no idea what this man he had just met could possibly have to give him.

Ozpin stood and lifted something from behind his desk. It was a shiny silver chest. He placed it on his desk and pushed it towards Luc. "I have known your grandfather for quite a long time. He's the one who set you up to attend Beacon. When we spoke, he asked me to give this to you once you arrived here. Something about a boy making his place in the world."

Luc's eyes lit up and he excitedly undid the clasps on the chest. He lifted the chest's lid, revealing its contents. Resting inside the chest was a breastplate, a pendant, and a ring. The breastplate was silver, its accents the familiar blue and yellow of his family. This chest piece however, was lighter and seemed to be a more recent design of the traditional family armor. There was also a problem. The breastplate was the only piece of armor in the chest.

It was a family ritual that a boy would receive his set of armor once he set out to make his place in the world. He always received a full set of armor, and a sword fresh from the blacksmith. Luc's armor, however, lacked the rest of the armor and a weapon. He wondered why his grandfather had omitted so much of his gift. He brushed the thought aside. His grandfather always knew what he was doing. The purpose of this would probably be revealed in time.

He picked up the pendant and the ring. A large blue diamond was set in the middle of the silver ring. He slipped it on his finger, and a warm feeling spread through his body. It seemed like the ring contained some good old family magic. He looked down at the pendant. Like everything else made by his family, it was made of silver. An emblem was engraved into the metal. A yellow lightning bolt struck a blue sword. It was the emblem his father had given him when he was born. He ran his finger over the grooves and a wave of memories flooded his mind. He saw his father, a fierce warrior, but the kindest man on the face of the earth. His mother, who was always busy but somehow always had a smile on her face. He'd give anything to be at home with them right now.

He swallowed his emotions. He was on his own now, and it would do him no good to get emotional. There was one last thing at the bottom of the chest. Luc reached in and grabbed the folded parchment. He quickly unfolded it and began reading.

Luc, it read, I send you this gift as an acknowledgment of your maturity. These next few years will be difficult as you adjust to a new culture, and meet new people. But remain strong, my grandson, for I know you are capable of great things. Keep your courage strong, and uphold the Inflictus name.

Now, you may be curious as to why you received an incomplete set of armor. Be patient, child, for its purpose will be revealed shortly. When the time comes for your light to shine forth, you will know what to do. Until then, Luc, do your family proud.

With great love,

Head Patriarch Gleavehelm of the Inflictus

Luc stared at the letter for a few moments. His grandfather was always cryptic about what he meant, and this was no different. He fiddled with the ring on his finger. When the time came for him to prove himself, he had a feeling this ring would be the key.

A/N: Here's the second chapter! I really liked writing the mix of action, exposition, and character interaction, and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Just a small bit of information, these next few chapters will flow right into one another, and will take place at the same time as episodes 1-8 of the show. Afterwards, time will jump around a bit more. With that being said, please leave some feedback! It's very much appreciated.