Well, reader, jokes on you. I said I would upload weekly, but what I really meant to say is that I'm gonna not upload for nine months.
I know. I know. But it's cool.
See, back in November of 2019, about halfway through the month I said to myself, "fuck it," and just started writing without caring about uploading. Just write, write, write, write. Not only to build up chapters to upload, but also to just practice writing in general. I think it worked.
Anyway, today (2/11/20), I decided to start uploading again. I have a whole bunch of chapters saved up and raring to go.
The plan is: upload rapidly (like every 2-3 days) until we get to the good part, and then I'll slow down to once a week because I want you, the reader, to really savor it.
So there you go.
In a loud, small district of a big, quiet city, a large commotion was brewing. The name of this city was Vale, named after the kingdom it resides in, Vale. The kingdom of Vale was also named after the curious natural phenomenon known as The Vale. The district was unnamed—they don't name districts—but locals like to call it 'The Bars', thanks to its substantial amount of bars and clubs.
The bars in The Bars were not usually this quiet, especially on a Friday night past seven. However, this week, there was an exception. It was the first week of the month, and that meant the monthly Valean Farmers' Market was in town. Farmers from all over the continent (and a few from even beyond) would come and set up stalls on a certain street, hopeful to make another good profit, or at least get rid of their extra produce.
In Vale, basic food services have been socialized. Most of a farmer's profit would be selling to the government, who would then supply it to one of the city's many soup kitchens or markets. It was made illegal for farmers to sell directly to consumers, to maintain something of a monopoly.
A certain organization was formed in secret, bringing most farmers from the continent together under one person. Frustrated at all the food they were forced to throw out, these allied farmers suddenly cut off all contact with Vale. This event lasted just over a week and led to a few famines in the not-well-off parts of the city.
While the government was busy dealing with riots, food production, or failing to take over nearby farms, a particular team from the nearby Beacon Academy was dispatched to negotiate in their stead.
They were successful, and a deal was struck. Farmers would be allowed to sell their food once a month at the start of every month. This was how the first Valean Farmers' Market was established. Along with that, the headmaster of Beacon was granted the ceremonial tenth seat (traditionally reserved for the king of Vale) on the Valean council in appreciation for his quick and effective thinking. This began the slow and systematic movement of Beacon and the government becoming one.
It also established a more social standard: the extreme political power of farmers. Or, more accurately, their organization.
This was around twenty years ago. Since that event, the government and its citizens have not dared to mess with farmers. Besides their political control, most farmers are retired huntsmen or otherwise the type of people that can thrive outside of city limits. No councilman or councilwoman would ever confirm it, but they are afraid of what could happen should they ever choose to revolt, for real.
But even still, the organization's leader is not known.
That was about the limit of what Markus could remember from the few classes on Vale history he attended.
…
Markus was walking down a restless and bustling street with a crate of fruit in his hands. He had run out of money and was returning to the car.
Behind him, the crowd birthed a young blue-haired man named Neptune. He was also carrying a crate of fruit.
Stands surrounded them on both sides, each put up hastily to claim the best spots on the road (those near intersections). Barterers were everywhere, and Markus could reach down at any time and pick up petty change. The petty change was still weird credit cards, and he was unable to tell how much they were worth, but money was money (they were actually all used up and worthless).
Neptune approached, then he spoke.
"Dude, you will not believe how much I paid for these bananas." Neptune was very excited.
Markus turned his head. He was also excited. "No, no, no. You won't believe how much all these raspberries cost."
"No. I mean, you really won't believe it." Neptune flashed a brilliant smile. "Thanks to my… haggling skills, I managed to lower the price even more."
Neptune shifted the crate in his hands, and opened the top to reveal the golden treasure inside. A few bushels of perfectly ripe-looking bananas were inside, maybe six, with the smallest bushel having four bananas attached.
"I counted about thirty bananas. Thirty of these excellent quality bananas." Neptune tore his eyes away from the beautiful bananas to look at Markus. "Guess how much I paid."
"How much?"
"Guess."
"Uh…" Markus took a closer look at the bananas. "Twenty."
"Wrong!" Neptune shut the box. "Five lien. Five! For all these! And the crate, too!"
It was a very nice crate.
"Woah! Dude! Five bucks?" Markus looked at Neptune in disbelief. "Really?"
"Hahaha! I told you you wouldn't believe it!"
Slowly, Markus turned away and continued walking. He became depressed. Now his raspberries weren't nearly as impressive.
Neptune caught up to his side. "So, what you got there? You said something about raspberries?"
Tragically, Markus sighed. "Yeah."
Neptune waited, but Markus did not go on.
"And…?"
Markus drooped a little bit more. "I bought two pounds of raspberries. Eight bucks." A moment later, "I mean lien."
"Eight lien?" Neptune did some quick calculations. "Four per pound?"
"I guess."
Neptune looked at Markus pitifully. "Were you scammed or something?"
Once again, Markus sighed.
…
And now, they stood at the rear of his (Ozpin)'s car. He managed to find a nice spot to park on the curb of a nearby road. The car was stuffed full of high-tech features, such as a system that made it so all you needed to do was swipe a foot beneath the bumper to open the trunk. Markus never once thought he would ever use such a thing. Very useful, since his hands were taken.
They dumped both crates right in. Markus swept a foot under the sensor again, and the trunk beeped and automatically closed. It was only when it finally snapped shut did Neptune speak.
"Markus?"
Markus continued to observe the car in front of him. "Hmm?"
"Why did we come to Vale, again?"
"Mm… good question." Markus thought on it for a second. "I have no idea." Thump
"Yeah… me too. I feel like I'm forgetting something." Thump
"Neptune?" Thump
"Yeah?" Thump
"Do you hear that?" THUMP
"I thought it was just my imagination," THUMP "What is it?" THUMP
Markus opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he stared at a massive robot tearing down the very street he stood on. He may have been imagining it, but he might have seen a few figures standing atop the robot, riding it. He craned his head around to watch it leave, smashing lampposts and throwing around cars (thankfully, not his (Ozpin's)) before it turned around a corner.
"Oh yeah…" Markus said, scratching his chin. "That's what's happening."
Markus bent forward slightly in preparation to start running, but Neptune beat him to it. While he ran, Neptune pointed back.
"I'm going! The others are there! Markus, you watch the fruit!"
Markus blinked as he processed that. "But… I'm way faster than you! Why do I have to watch it!"
"WATCH THE FRUIT!"
Neptune disappeared around the same corner the robot did. All was quiet once again.
Markus straightened up slowly. Emotions began to bubble up within his very soul.
He kicked a rock from a recently upturned part of the street. It made a lovely arc before smashing through a window. Markus looked at his work before he turned around and opened the trunk. He reached in and grabbed a banana.
Markus sat on the curb, peeled the banana and took a bite.
"What the hell!" He had a sudden outburst. He took another bite. "Mmn… what the hell! I bring him way out here, and he leaves me behind? They're my friends, too!"
Markus glared at the banana in his hand. The banana said: "..." Markus took another bite.
With that bite, the spark of rebellion appeared within his brain. Yeah, the fruit is important, but there's no way he's just going to hang around here. Not when there is a once in a lifetime chance to see a cool mech battle just around the corner.
He swallowed the rest of the banana in one bite like some sort of camgirl and got back in the car.
-Break-
Hours ago.
Roman looked up at the completed robot like one would look up at a god. After no less than twenty-seven (he thought) grueling hours of back-breaking physical labor, he finally completed it. A few things were missing from his head. He could not remember when he took off his jacket and shirt. Nor could he remember why his throat was so sore. He could barely even remember who these White Fang people were.
The White Fang people in question were all sleeping on various parts of the robot like it was some sort of treehouse. Roman didn't have either the heart or energy to get them to wake up and get off.
Speaking of energy, Roman was just about to pass out. He was only able to stare for a few more seconds before he collapsed to the floor like a wooden plank. It was here on the cold and dusty concrete that he slept for the next couple hours.
Neo and Sykes were still nearby, with one also asleep and the other really impressed.
The silence in the warehouse remained for a few hours. It was only when the morning came and a few beams of light cut through the dust did anything move.
…
Cinder walked in to a very odd sight.
The robot she had ordered for was standing menacingly, and she was a little surprised at its size. She'd seen blueprints, but it was even bigger in person than she had thought. The factories that could assemble things like this were really something, weren't they?
That wasn't the strangest part, nor was it too strange at all. A little ways off, she found the people she was looking for.
Roman was face down on the floor, completely topless, maybe dead, and the other two were sitting on folding chairs, apparently enjoying a nice day at the beach. Did they kill him?
Cinder approached the scene. She stepped over Roman's cold dead corpse and stopped in front of Sykes. He wasn't moving, but she could tell he was awake.
Sykes was very proactive. Before she could speak, he did. "He's sleeping," he said, "Worked too hard and passed out."
Cinder looked at the body and considered this for the briefest moment. It didn't matter, really. Roman knew what he had to do. If he wants to sleep on the most uncomfortable surface around, why stop him?
Besides, he is still just a tiny piece in the big picture. She didn't come here for him, anyway.
She turned back. Sykes, on the other hand…
She always had a nagging feeling in her head. Only recently, she figured it out.
Her eyes became friendly, or perhaps it was only a trick of the light. No one who could have been fooled was observing.
"Come with me. We need to talk," she said. Her tone was sultry, but it wasn't. No, this was the way someone would speak to an old friend. A little teasing, a little insinuating, as if he already knew she could do no better.
Gently, she placed her hand over his. She had to be careful. Too much pressure, and she would cut herself.
And, unintentionally or not, with that touch, Sykes could understand a little bit more.
He looked up, his frown appearing. He moved his hand away from the armrest and back to his chest. Still, Cinder stared right at him.
Eventually, he said, "Let's go," as he stood up.
This was no place to talk. Wordlessly, Cinder led him to a more private room.
As he followed, Sykes scratched his head.
Remnant wasn't… well, it was getting harder to tell each day.
Perhaps it was his own fault.
It would be alright.
…
-Break-
Some time passed.
There are small grass fields beneath many highway bridges in Vale. The government calls them deadzones, not because they are particularly deadly, but so no one would enter them. Carbon monoxide levels are not low here, but not at the level of any danger in the short term. Really, only stray animals would ever be found wandering in these fields.
There is a hidden underground government facility in one of these deadzones. It is called L6, which stood for Love 6, and they specialized in confession extraction.
Or, maybe it didn't exist.
In this particular deadzone, however, a corpse of a large robot mech was laid. In reality, the corpse could barely even be called a skeleton. It was only some parts of the mech's endoskeleton, with other important pieces of the mech blown into scraps and scattered all around.
Things were still cooling down here. Some small pieces of armor plate could still fry an egg.
Roman Torchwick, level B-3 fugitive in all kingdoms except for Vacuo (which is too hot for his taste), was here ten minutes ago. He got away on a bullhead. There was a long and emotional battle, but in the end, his baby was destroyed by those Beacon Academy students. He's never cared for something as much as he did for that mech his whole life.
Never forgive, never forget. Those whores will not get away with this.
—Was the last thought Roman thought before he fainted from emotional shock. Recently, his life hasn't been too good.
…
A bullhead not unlike Roman's pulled in and landed. The Beacon Academy students (whores noted above) hopped on and were returned to Beacon. It was much past curfew, but they were pardoned on the spot.
Five minutes after that moment, an expensive luxury car stopped at a curb nearby. The door opened so Markus could step out. He approached the chain link fence, and in a smooth motion, vaulted over.
He approached the scene, and now that he could see it wholly, seemed to seriously consider the idea that he may have came too late to see anything cool.
"Shit!" A pair of sunglasses were thrown onto the grass. They had been found in the sunglasses holder while stuck in Remnant's truly 'otherworldly' traffic. He liked the look of them. He was going to keep them.
The fact that he might have just broken his new favorite shades snapped him out of his despair. He grabbed them again and stuffed them away safely. Now calm, he approached the largest part of the mech. Wires were sticking out and strange mechanisms or devices could be seen. They looked expensive.
He may have missed the cool battle, but he now has access to another once-in-a-lifetime event: scavenging a recently destroyed mech.
Really, who wouldn't? These parts were the genuine thing, and if he remembers his RWBY correctly, they're not even on the market yet. Not only that, these small things would look great on a bedside table or a bookshelf.
Markus is quite a big fan of science. He could watch a whole mechanical system working together for hours before he got bored. He could never really understand how they all worked, but it was calming to look at.
He tore out things that looked like batteries, processors, and servos. About halfway through, a voice interrupted his salvaging.
"Markus? What are you doing here?" It had said.
Markus recognized this voice. Any sense of danger or caution left as soon as it came. He looked up. "Blue. I could ask the same of you."
He's been wanting to say that line since forever. Today was a great day.
"Me?" The very blue young man squatted down besides Markus. "I was nearby and I heard a commotion. Did you do this?"
"No way." Markus tore out a battery-looking object. "I couldn't smash up a mech like this. Impossible."
"Was it… your friends?"
"Of course it was. Why else would I be here?"
Blue's vision wandered around. "Is that so? Where are they?"
"They're already back at Beacon. Didn't you see the bullhead?"
"Mmm. So that's what it was."
Blue turned back towards Markus, who was playing with the small electronics in his hand (if I touch the battery and the servo together, it spins!). He suddenly felt like he was supervising a child. "How are you going to get back, Markus? Did you miss the bullhead?"
Markus paused his actions. Then, he said, "...Yes."
Markus was like an open book. Blue massaged his chin. "I'm going to guess that that means there's no easy way back anytime soon."
In reply, Markus said:
Blue patted him on the back. "It's okay. I will hang out with you."
…
After a few minutes, Markus's ears perked up. He heard a siren, and it was definitely getting louder. It was the police. They must be here to clean up.
Markus stuffed the last of his collector's items in his coat and stood up.
Blue did, too. "The cops," he said.
"Yes. Let's go," Markus agreed.
Markus scurried off towards the luxury vehicle. Blue followed.
They got in and drove off, all at around midnight. He couldn't go back, so instead he explored.
That weekend was spent hitting the town. Fun things, especially, like arcades, parks, lakes, laundromats and then back to the market. Sometimes Markus would just drive around with Blue and talk about old times. Sometimes they would sit on benches and toss pebbles at passersby. Markus ate the most expensive meal of his life (Blue paid). Markus would ask Blue about his life, and Blue would ask Markus back. But he couldn't answer those questions.
Markus began to love Vale, like he lived here. Like they were friends, Markus had fun again.
He's been thinking too much.
...
But as soon as it started, the weekend was over. Two days was just too short for such a hot-blooded youth.
He had brought the car back exactly where he had got it, in that parking garage. Not a scratch could be seen, even if you had brought a microscope. The first bullhead of the week was waiting for him, and so he got on. Blue didn't. Instead, he stood near the landing pad and waved Markus goodbye.
In transit, the pilot had spoken. "You look like you enjoyed your weekend."
Markus had stretched his arms above his head. "Yeah. I really did."
"That man, who was he? Family?" The pilot continued.
This guy's pretty nosy, Markus thought. But it was okay, Markus was in a somewhat talkative mood. "Yeah."
"I see. I don't get to see the families of students very often, you know." The pilot chuckled. "Maybe they send them here just to not have to deal with them anymore."
Markus smiled too. He didn't want to deal with them either, sometimes.
"Well," the pilot looked back, "he seems like a kind man. You should be proud."
Markus relaxed in his seat. He leaned his head back and let it rest on the wall. It vibrated his skull in a way that made his vision blur.
"Yes. He is..." and Markus was having trouble finding the words, "he is… very kind to me."
Markus closed his eyes, and the pilot took this as a signal to stop talking. The rest of the trip was silent, and then Markus got off.
It was still very early in the morning. Markus found a courtyard.
…
-Break-
Time passed, and then it passed again. Markus got back into his own hermit cycle again. The weather got warmer.
This entire time, Ruby Rose did nothing. Therefore, Markus Quinn did nothing.
The staff continued to chase after him, and he continued to outrun them. Now they were saying that 'Ozpin wishes to speak with him.' A trap, if Markus had ever heard of one. If Ozpin wanted to speak, he would find him himself. He knew this better than anyone.
These dreary days repeated themselves over and over again, until today. Today, Markus found himself in a social conundrum.
The Vytal festival dance was coming up soon. Within the week, if he had his dates right. And dates was exactly the problem.
He wanted to attend the dance. He wanted to see everyone else dress up nicely, but he also wanted an excuse to dress up nicely and not wear this dirty coat and uniform.
Since his arrival to Remnant, he has barely ever worn anything new. The only things he's worn so far (cosplay excluded) was his coat, his uniform, and the old tee and jeans he wore before he got them. Sometimes, he wonders where those clothes went. He was pretty sure they got washed and somehow ended up with Jaune claiming them, but he's never seen him wear either.
So, not showing up to the dance was not an option. This is where the problem came in. Markus would absolutely not be the guy who shows up without a date. In his mind, there were two scenarios.
First, 'Wake up in a fictional world and go to school.' Second, 'Find a date.'
These two scenarios went hand in hand together. If one occured, the other must as well. If not, something is horribly wrong. Markus wasn't sure what kind of karmic punishment he would invite to himself if he failed to complete both. He held himself to the highest standards.
So, he had to find a date and therefore break his hermit lifestyle (and also find a nice suit). Markus steeled himself. He was in the safe haven codenamed 318, but not for long.
The door slammed open. Operation: Vytal had begun. Step one of phase one was to find a courtyard with flowers. Markus recalled a nearby courtyard with very pretty flowers of all colors.
He headed that direction. Soon after, he arrived.
This was the place. One of the few courtyards in Beacon where the sun could be seen all day. Also the only courtyard in Beacon to have any bees.
The whole thing was shaped like a pinched 'u', or a teardrop. You would exit the building, follow the path and then arrive back at the doorway you had just left. Anywhere else ends in a sheer cliff. The bubble in the middle of the 'u' was filled with flowers.
Quite a nice place. You can really feel the breeze here, and the view was great. One of Markus's favorites.
He got on his knees near the flowers and started picking ones that piqued his interest. Of course, he got the reliable ones as well. Red roses, white lilies, you know the drill. All sorts of flowers were here, even some that probably didn't exist on Earth.
And then,
"Picking flowers, Mr. Quinn?"
It was Ozpin. He shows up often, like he had nothing better to do. At least once a week he would appear behind him and comment on what he was currently doing.
'Walking, Mr. Quinn?'
'Sleeping, Mr. Quinn?'
'Picking your nose, Mr. Quinn?'
Markus has gotten used to it by now, so he continued to pick flowers. "Yes."
"I never would have guessed that you would appreciate botany. It is a very interesting hobby." Ozpin made pleasantries, like he always does. "I never would have had the time to get into something like that."
"It's not like that." Markus said.
Ozpin sipped from his mug. His face was perfectly inscrutable, like usual. He said nothing, but Markus replied anyway.
"I need to get a date for the dance. I'm not going alone." He looked up and back towards Ozpin. "You understand, don't you?"
Ozpin hummed. "That is coming up soon, isn't it? Did you have anyone in mind?"
"Oh, yeah. A whole list." Markus stood up. He had all the flowers he would ever need. "I'll aim high, then see where I land."
"I… I see."
The bundle of flowers was held in front of Ozpin, thanks to Markus. "How's it look?"
Each flower in the sizable bundle was somehow able to clash with every other color. Logistically, it was a complete and utter failure, but it certainly drew the eyes.
"It looks lovely, Mr. Quinn. I'd say yes."
Markus's face crumpled up.
"That's disgusting, Ozpin."
-End of Part 4-
So I made a deal with myself.
I would start uploading when either of these happen:
(1.) The second anniversary of this dumb fic arrives (that's today!)
or (2.) I write to the point of a certain event that's planned to happen later in the fic
Since I am a slow-as-hell writer, obviously the static date one came first. No, I haven't reached that event yet. No, I'm not telling you what it is.
And, also, I'm not gonna tell you how many chapters I have saved up right now. Why? Because we're going to reach that point eventually and you're gonna be like: seriously, author? You wrote ZERO chapters since then?
And because I am a slow-as-hell writer I am very serious. So that is why.
Also, I changed the summary. It's very bad. But I have a very strong obsession with giving the reader the least amount of information possible. Sometimes this means giving no information at all.
I'll probably change it again soon.
Eventually.
Well, I hope you enjoy. At least a little bit.
