Avalon Reborn
A RWBY Fanfiction
Chapter 3: It All Comes Together
Anno Tenebrae, 5218, September 22. Night before Freshman Year 'begins'.
Rodger stood on the rooftops over Vale, ready to fight the eventual robbers. He'd read into the news reports and found a pattern: each one involved men in black suits (which he labeled Black Suits) following a man in a white suit with a bowler hat and cane (the White Suit, Bowler, Classy, or Captain). Each one was after insane amounts of Dust, and no Lien was ever stolen from any stores. In fact, the main target was Dust mined from Schnee quarries in the Outskirts, his home territory.
He eventually saw them: about five Black Suits and Classy, latter up ahead smoking a cigar, clearly intent on stealing from From Dust Till Dawn. Earlier, he saw a girl in a black dress enter the same shop, but upon seeing the small red box on her back he knew she was more of a Huntress than a burglar. These guys were obvious; the one guy who stood out in the group matched his findings. He began to draw a medium-sized handheld sledge hammer from his right hip. He preferred to save his Machinamorphism for last in case things got hairy.
He hopped down from his vantage point on the rooftops and onto the streets below, ready to surprise his targets. That was when he saw it: the girl in the dress had drawn her weapon. He so wasn't getting paid for this. Then again, she somehow felt familiar… she did have a megascythe on her person, so maybe that was it. Still, why did he feel like he'd seen her four years ago at Lucy's funeral?
Rodger shook his head at how she brought the fight outside: instead of going through the front door, she shattered the glass window and simply took off her headphones, seeming a bit frustrated at the goons.
"I commend you for your courage and sense of justice," he commented. "But your technique is a bit sloppy for a Huntress."
"Wait, who," she almost panicked. "Oh, me? I'm not exactly a Huntress. Well, not yet anyways, but—."
"I get the point," he stopped her. "Makes a bit of sense, you look too young to be one anyways." This made her blush and cover her… lady parts, for lack of a better term. "I'm not a pervert, I can tell by your face and eyes. Nice color, by the way."
"Are you two just going to chat away the night," Classy interrupted, clearly getting impatient. "Because I've got places to rob, people to kill, and employers to meet. Speaking of which… Get 'em."
Rodger simply smiled, holding his hand in front of the girl. She gave him an odd look.
"Don't worry, Miss," he ordered. "World-class Outskirts survivor here. Lemme show these crazy mooks."
Several Dust rounds penetrated his armored vest beneath his white trench coat, his traditional armor for city settings. Even his pants were ripped in some places, which both infuriated and concerned him. These guys had the worst aim ever, even for simple goons. Thankfully they didn't pierce the Scorcher hide shirt and shorts he wore as under armor.
"Okay, I've never shot a gun and I'm more accurate than that," Rodger shouted before unleashing his hammer's secret: it was actually his megascythe Star Slicer in its compact form. The head of the hammer became the yard-long blade as the steel handle extended about five feet from its initial length of one foot. "Add that to the fact that I'm tired of everything I wear getting torn up within days of me first getting it, and you can see how bad this is gonna hurt."
As he simply beat the Hell out of the Black Suits, he yelled random quotes such as:
"I'm gonna beat you like an African drum!"
"Not much bang for your paycheck, are ya?"
"Your mama can hit harder than you!"
And even…
"You're so weak that a Scorcher won't even look at you funny in fear that you'd cripple over and die! Liven up already!"
Star Slicer glided through the air with ease as pieces of guns and swords flew in the air, as well as their respective owners. The serrated edge of Star Slicer kept getting caught in the triggers of the rifles, but the smooth side was useless when it came to blocking the swords. Not that it really mattered, because when Rodger applied his Solar-elemental Aura to the blade of Star Slicer the weapons clashing against it would simply shatter or get cleaved in half with little to no effort at all. Thankfully, it was harsh against metal yet simply hard against regular Aura, which was probably why those gooks were still alive.
He landed gracefully on the ground, having almost literally using his scythe to swing around the last Black Suit standing, spinning him around until his balance was so bad that he literally ran into a light pole.
"Well, you were worth every cent, truly you were," Classy said as he walked out of the building, a suitcase full of Dust vials and crystals. "Well Red, Weirdo, it's been quite an interesting night. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe this is where we part ways." He aimed his cane at the two scythe users—the bottom opened to reveal a barrel and sight—and pulled the trigger. A simple Dust flare flew out, which the girl avoided quite nimbly for someone who uses such a clunky weapon while Rodger temporarily rolled back in his Grinder Ball form (A/N Battleship Shredder) and reverted immediately after. Boy was he glad; had he been caught in that, he'd have been flung backwards or sneezed and caused a Solar Flare.
The two scythe wielders eventually found him trying to climb to the rooftops via ladder. The two gave chase in their own ways: the girl used the unseen sniper function of her titanic blade to quickly ascend the height, while Rodger used his Machinamorphism to latch on and climb in a split second. Rodger had his forearm as an attached plasma/Taser cannon and was ready to knock the guy out quietly when the girl did the dumb thing and called out to the criminal. Rodger groaned and smacked his forehead and lowered his cannon, annoyed with how weird this girl had gotten in mere seconds.
They were legitimately surprised when a transport ship arrived and scooped up Bowler, hovering by the rooftops as he prepared to bring the final blow.
"End of the line, brats," he yelled over the whine of the engines, and threw down a red Dust crystal. Rodger switched his cannon to kill and took aim at the closer engine when the guy yelled that, proceeding to raise his Aura as a super-dense shield around himself and the girl. Bowler took aim and fired at the crystal, detonating it just before something stopped the explosion from reaching Rodger and the girl.
"Oh, look at that," Rodger complained, getting angry at the situation. "More people here to screw up my job. Perfect."
"Hey, I didn't screw anything up," the girl growled at him as the Huntress took care of the rest of the situation. "If anything, it was him who screwed it up. And what do you mean, 'your job'?"
"That shopkeeper was paying me to prevent this sort of thing from happening," Rodger explained, showing slight annoyance with the criminal. "I swear, it was a billion times easier back in the Outskirts."
"Easier? Life over there is impossible, even for Grimm. How can you say something like that?"
"Because I've lived there for about four years," he stated as though it were obvious. "Where else would I get Scorcher hide for under-armor? And it's not impossible; you've just gotta know what you're doing."
"Why would you even want to live there to begin with?"
"Why would you want to use such a heavy weapon? That thing's gotta be, like, twenty pounds."
"Same goes with your Semblance." He gave her a funky look before looking down at his cannon.
"Oh! This isn't a Semblance. It's actually a combination of Aura and body to transform the physical. They're called Morphisms, and mine is Machinamorphism. As a matter of fact, mine is probably the most powerful out there."
"Then what is your Semblance? You've gotta have one by now."
"I don't use it."
"Why not?"
That was about when they found themselves in an interrogation room somewhere near where the Huntress worked. Rodger was hunched over, thinking they'd figured out that his sister was to blame for tons of things and they were here to find out where she was. The girl was right next to him, somewhat worried herself.
"Calm down, Miss," Rodger told her. "You'll just make it worse for us."
"Aren't you worried," she demanded. "We got thrown in here for beating the bad guys and arguing."
"It's not like we're going to prison, you know. We're in an interrogation room. Believe me; I've been in one before. It comes just before prison."
"That's not helpful…. Wait, how do you know all of this? Are you some sort of criminal?"
"Not necessarily. Feel guilty for things, yes. Actually guilty of them, no. Arrested for them, definitely not. Cause of them… depends on your perspective, but technically not. I've just been asked questions in one for Intel and the like, and Dad was a Criminal Investigator."
"Intel? What do you mean?"
"On a criminal. They thought I was tied to the crime itself, but later realized I tried to stop it. Still, I guess I was tied to the perpetrator."
The steel door opened and the two lowered their heads to the table, folding their hands and putting them either on the table or in front of their mouth. Rodger knew who it was: the same Huntress who tried to stop his target, his job. That wouldn't go well on his resume. The angry woman paced around the room, glaring at the two like an angry cat, before speaking.
"I hope you two realize that what you did tonight was dangerous," the Huntress growled, further annoying Rodger. He knew what he did was dangerous, but he literally lived in unlivable conditions for four years and here he was, talking, breathing, and… breathing. He wasn't really living to begin with, not since Lucy…. "You put yourselves and others in great danger."
"But they started it," the Huntress wannabe argued. Rodger simply rolled his eyes.
"I've done worse and come out on top," Rodger stated, knowing no one would believe him.
"If it were up to me," the Huntress ignored them. "I would send you home with a pat on the back…. And a slap on the wrist."
"Go ahead," Rodger looked away, uncaring for such a stupid punishment. He honestly didn't care if the punishment was death; he'd been living a personal Hell for what seemed like four eternities, and it didn't show any signs of stopping any time soon. In fact, death would be a blessing in his eyes. "I don't even live in Vale to begin with."
"Oh, really," the girl demanded. Rodger glared at her with a Scorcher eye, scaring the daylights out of her.
"I've been through things you couldn't even imagine and not only came out on top, but came out without a single scratch, not even a cell touched. Nothing you say or do to me can have any effect on me."
"But," the Huntress interrupted their argument. "There's someone here who would like to see you two."
Enter really creepy old guy, carrying a plate of cookies, a cane, and a mug of coffee. Somewhat scantily-clad Huntress with a riding crop for a weapon simply stood by. Little Red Riding Hood looked in awe at the old guy. Rodger felt as though he was the real misfit here, and he was in a group of them.
"Ruby Rose," the old man addressed the girl first, as obvious as it was. He was probably one of those horny old guys who liked underage girls. He obviously complimented her eyes, creeping the now-named Ruby out, before turning on Rodger. "And Rodger Fall."
"I know, I know," the young man interrupted. "You've got Lime eyes or whatever. That's real creepy, y'know."
"I see you've survived your guilt trip in the Outskirts," the man corrected, surprising both Ruby and the Huntress. Rodger's eyes changed to Scorcher eyes; the old man remained stoic. "You've even gotten a few things out of it; hopefully your guilt has left as well."
"Not by a long shot," Rodger said, leaning forward as his eyes reverted to normal. "How much do you know about me? And how did you find out about my time in the Outskirts? Most importantly, how did you find out about that?" The man smiled.
"I have my sources," he said simply. "And as for that, you were counted as a hero for weeks before you left without a trace. No parents, no nearby siblings, not even a single friend; no one outside of a cousin and his newlywed knew where you were.
"And as for you, Miss Rose," he moved on. "Where did you learn how to do this?" He held out a screen Rodger only recently learned was a Scroll, which displayed a video of Ruby fighting off Grimm like a Huntress would.
"S-Signal Academy," Ruby stuttered. The old man went accordingly and set down the plate of cookies. In a few moments the cookies were gone as the guy mentioned a 'dusty old crow'. Ruby had to swallow first, but the eventually responded appropriately: "That's my uncle Qrow. He took me under his wing when I was little. I was complete garbage before he took me in; now I'm all like—." She demonstrated this in the funkiest way possible, but Rodger didn't argue; her innocence was still intact, and he didn't want hers to be taken away as ferociously as his was. In fact, he was still trying to pick up what was left of his younger self, to try to rebuild what was broken by his sister and the thugs she hired to essentially break or kill him.
"I've heard of someone like that before," Rodger admitted. "Took a peek at master scythe users in Vale before coming here, see where I stood. I hear he's one of the best in the entire world. I would say I could beat him, but I'm pretty sure he could do me over with me cheating and his hands tied behind his back."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Ruby thought aloud. "I mean, Qrow's good and all, but even he can't infuse his scythe with Aura like you did back there. I've even seen the best scythe user out there, and he never fights as good as you did. Then again, I doubt he was trying…"
"Well I know him," the old man said. "And when he tries, he can be better than what you both displayed. The reasons for your case are obvious, but I highly doubt Mr. Fall was even trying to stay awake in that scuffle earlier."
Rodger went with it and hung his head, snoring rather loudly. A riding crop to his neck broke his joke, earning the Huntress a death glare.
"Can't take a joke, I see," Rodger mumbled angrily. "Use that on me again and I'll snap it like a twig."
"Do either of you know who I am," the old man asked, still seeming a little too polite. This time, Ruby surprised Rodger with her response.
"You're Headmaster Ozpin," she answered. "The headmaster at Beacon." Rodger almost fell out of his seat in total shock.
"WHOA, what," he shouted, totally confused and surprised. "You, the one guy I thought was the creepy old guy stereotype, are the HEADMASTER? Of BEACON? The best school in VALE? And you're visiting with us?" Ozpin nodded. "Wow, I am such an idiot."
"Who doesn't know who Professor Ozpin is," Ruby wondered aloud. She looked at Rodger fiddling with a pistol, accidentally shooting himself between the eyes with a rubber bullet, before deciding that she definitely knew her answer.
"I've been watching you both for some time now," Ozpin admitted to the two teens. "I'm surprised you don't know each other. Nevertheless, I've turned the idea of letting you two into Beacon in my head for several months now, and I believe I've reached a decision." He leaned forward. "Would you like to train at my school?"
Ruby's world almost exploded at hearing this; Rodger's detonated with unprecedented ferocity.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHO NEEDS SCHOOL? WE'RE IN A TIME WHERE GRIMM ROAM RAMPANT AND YOU WANT TO SEND A KID WHO'S SURVIVED THE OUTSKIRTS TO FREAKING SCHOOL? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?"
"With you, Mister Fall, you don't really have an option here outside of kicking it off on your own," Ozpin stated bluntly. "Your sister ruined what was left of your home while you were absent. She even killed your cousin and your oldest sister."
Something in Rodger snapped, and he was almost instantly no longer human. His eyes were green, massive, and slit in the pupils. Even his skin started to turn reptilian, just like the Scorchers were rumored to be.
"Where is she," the boy demanded in a much deeper, darker voice. Ozpin showed no fear even as Ruby and the Huntress both flinched in almost pure fear.
"Even if you knew, you would be unable to defeat her," he replied. "You still need to develop your Semblance if you wish to have a chance against her. Our professors at Beacon can help you with that. In fact, word has come through an ally that someone who has yet to unlock his Semblance is coming here."
Rodger crossed his arms and gave out a small 'humph'. His apparent dark side faded before he responded.
"You say that as if I need any 'special training'. I have the most advanced Machinamorphism on the planet. I'm positive I can defeat her—."
Immediately, Ozpin was cloaked in green energy as he transformed his finger into a titanic modern cannon. Rodger's jaw dropped in pure awe as Ozpin reverted the transformation. He then unleashed something like Rodger's own Semblance and created a small star in the palm of his hand. Said star was shrouded in rose petals and began flying around the room before disappearing in a puff of green Aura. Rodger's entire head melted as Ruby fell over in her chair. Even the Huntress was stuck in amazement at the master Huntsman's feat.
"I may be no master myself," Ozpin reminded the two teens. "But I have far more experience than everyone in this room combined. Believe you me, the two of you need far more training if you wish to be as advanced as I showed you."
"Oh, wow," Rodger mumbled as he picked himself up with Ruby. "Pure Aura manipulation. Never seen anything like that, like, ever. That was so cool. Sure, Grandad could've done so much better, but he's the creator of Machinamorphism."
"Do you have an answer for me," Ozpin said impatiently. "Students will be arriving via airship tomorrow, so I need it tonight."
"Count me in," Ruby almost shouted, proceeding to thank him incessantly. Rodger was a bit more reluctant to agree.
"So long as I can beat Cinder by the end of it all," Rodger told Ozpin, "I'll go."
"I can't necessarily say with certainty you will be able to defeat her after your four years here," Ozpin informed him. "But I can guarantee that you will stand a much better chance against her than you did four and a half years ago."
"Don't remind me of then. Fine, I'll go to your school, full ride. My pack is going to their schools pretty soon, anyways."
"I figured I would hear that from you. Ms. Goodwitch, would you be so kind as to escort them out? I have another appointment or two."
After the two younger teens were out of the room, Ozpin let the next group in: the missing Schnee and a young man with a navy hoodie, white armor, and a sword in sheath at his side. Outside of his hair and eyes, he was the spitting image of his father.
"Found this kid looking for me, sir," Arctico said to Ozpin. "Says he needs help with his brother. Something about the guy killing his parents and three of his sisters."
"You mean you don't recognize him, Arctico," Ozpin asked the Winter King. "Look at his face, and tell me that doesn't strike you as familiar."
"I did, and the timing doesn't add up," said the cold swordsman. "I find out Marron is dead two minutes before this brat shows up with the man's sword, says his brother killed 'em all."
"You have become rather dense, haven't you? This is Jaune Arc, not Topaz. Of course Marron would entrust the ancient blade to his youngest, more knightly son."
"I can hear you two," Jaune interrupted the two. "I guess I should say why I'm here. I need training so I can bring Topaz back, and I was hoping one of his old friends could help me."
"You came to the right man, Jaune," Ozpin reassured the young man. "Marron trusted me with his life, so I see it fitting that his youngest son does the same. The best I can do for you is to let you into my school; however, in order to do so you will require a set of transcripts, if you have them."
"Kid does look trained," Arctico commented, "But I doubt he went to school. Else, he wouldn't have someone else's sword; he'd have built his own."
"And Marron was the Educational Overseer of Signal for six years," Ozpin reminded the Schnee. "Do you really think he would've let his children go untaught? If I'm not mistaken, he prepared homeschooling transcripts for his youngest in case he was unable to send him there; I'm surprised he even needed them. And in terms of swords, Marron never built a forge for his own house, simply so then nothing drastic happened to Crocea Mors."
"How do you two know Dad," Jaune demanded out of nowhere. "And how do you know about his sword?"
"In due time, Jaune," Ozpin answered. "Let's hope you never need to know."
"You said something about getting me into some sort of school," Jaune returned to that topic. "I'm figuring that attendance will be somewhat pricy."
"Attendance is not what is expensive," was the answer. "Room and board, tuition, and a few other fees here and there, are the real prices, and even those are minimal. In fact, you don't even need to pay up front or even during your time there."
"You can't be serious," Arctico seemed to whine. Ozpin nodded.
"The other option is for you to train him personally," Ozpin reminded Arctico. "That would involve a rather… elongated talk, to put it lightly. Of course, I wouldn't mind if you did take him under your wing; after all, you do owe his father and I small debt."
"Fine, take him," Arctico snapped. "But I'm certainly teaching the boy to forge his own weapon. He can't be using his father's blade too often, lest… 'it' take hold of him."
"I went to the monument last month," Jaune told the two adults. "The one where he found Crocea Mors. I read the inscription; it has a curse on it, same with those weird gem things he found with it. I've had Crocea for so long it's already begun to affect me. Worrisome, yes; too much to bear, not so much."
Ozpin and Arctico shared a concerned look. Perhaps it was already too late. Jaune needed a new sword or training on how to properly use 'Yellow Death' soon, or it would possibly come to the worst. Still, his astounding courage overpowered the fear the blade placed into him.
"Still," Jaune continued. "Thanks for the help. I guess I'll see you there, Professor."
"Headmaster, actually," Ozpin corrected him. "Although it is impressive that you've never heard of me and yet know my name."
"He told me where he was taking me," Jaune stated bluntly. Arctico scratched his head nervously, possibly knowing what was coming next. Ozpin gave the white-haired knight a blank stare filled with blatant unpleasantness. Perhaps it couldn't be helped, but Arctico was certainly adamant with making things harder for his old friend. "Well, I guess I'll be going. Leave you two to, err… argue, or whatever you'll probably do once I leave. Again, thanks for the help."
Sure enough, Jaune was right: Arctico's pleas for mercy could be heard throughout the police station as Ozpin simply continued giving that cold, blank stare until he stopped pleading. Things instantly went to Hell afterwards when Glynda reentered and Arctico got Hell after she saw him in the room. If only Marron could've seen it.
Speaking of whom, his spirit continued going through the transcripts given by thousands of prospective students so he could tell Ozpin who was clear and who wasn't. His soul wouldn't be at rest until either Jaune set Crocea Mors in the place of the memorial statue in the cemetery or his spirit was the last one to use it. That was the only way to truly break the curse: the user had to be the last one to use it or the blade had to be set on their grave, or their soul would be restless until then.
In any case, he had decided before he died to do something productive with his extended time, as he intentionally told Jaune to take it so then he could explain things afterwards. Sure enough, Jaune did, and he was only looking for an opening to start telling his son the truth about those precious gemstones, and the Knights of Avalon, the first knights after whom all other knights followed.
Marron yawned, confusing him as his soul didn't really need sleep. He supposed it was because it's been around half a year since he 'died'. How he missed his daughters and wife in the afterlife, but he missed his surviving family more. Especially Jaune and Topaz; those two boys had been the pride and joy of his life. He pushed his sorrows and regrets aside, as he knew he'd be with them all eventually. For now, he had work to do.
End
A/N: Man, that took a bit longer than expected. I wanted a way to tell you readers about the whole 'Marron's not dead' thing, as well as sneak in a bit about Rodger's rage towards his sister, but I wanted to ensure that this got out first. Anyways, is anyone else as excited for Volume 4 as I am? If all goes according to what I'm thinking, this entire story is officially non-cannon. Well, at least the 'Jaune Arc is a legendary knight' thing I've got going. If RT makes him some ultimate sword-wielding armored badass (like he really looks right now), then I have a chance of losing my mind. If they bring Pyrrha back, I will officially lose my sh*t and go on with life a much happier person. Before I go on a rant/tangent, Texas out.
P.S: I have a new YouTube series out focusing on Stellaris, a PC game dedicated to space civilizations. If you're into that sort of stuff, then check it out. I pre-apologize for the audio being bad, but at least check out the video and its next episode. Stellaris will be my first series with a weekly upload, so keep an eye out for that. I might do a 'my thoughts' follow-up video to the first episode where I pretty much state my thoughts during the making of that video, which will probably be the funniest thing you'll see all week (except for Jim Carrey, who is outright hilarious). NOW, Texas out.
