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Beta :

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With Abraham beside him, enlistment didn't take more than an hour and some change. A short interview in a well furnished office that looked and felt like a councilor's office from school, complete with the smiling young woman and the very stereotypical corner palm, was the largest hurdle. A bevy of questions like he'd already been asked were reasked alongside an equally large number of new ones, all gauging his goals, opinions and desires. In some cases, Abraham answered for him to give his 'first response', since Atlas wanted those to better gauge their enlistees first reactions.

Apparently he passed, though, and he was let out with a black uniform like thick, pocketless jeans and a long sleeved grey shirt that cinched at his wrists to keep him warm. He asked what to do with his clothes and he was handed a simple black backpack, like one he'd carry to school except made of thicker material and inscribed with the Atlesian symbol on the top of the pouch, just under the zipper. With it he was handed a wallet with his new, Atlesian ID card in it and a Lien card.

"Your stipend for the week. A few hundred Lien comprising a tenth of the pay you will receive during training but understandably can't spend." Abraham answered when he asked, tugging his sleeves straighter on his arms idly as an elevator carried them down to the lobby. The elevator was nice, if a bit clinical grey and white, and played a cheery tune while the man straightened his shoulders and murmured, "You'll get the shit for slouching."

"Okay."

"Yes, Sir." He corrected him, spinning him around and pointing a finger in his face. "Your behavior reflects on me now, Enlistee Arc. Get your manners squared away."

"Yes, Sir." He nodded, earning a nod in response from the man. He let him go, but Jaune stayed facing him and asked, "Why did you sponsor me, though? Is that really part of the favor with my dad?"

"No, it wasn't. I'd never make a recommendation for a favor." Was all the man said in response, giving him a shake of the head when he opened his mouth to ask what it had been for if not that. But he knew better than to push a man doing him a kindness and left it at that, rather than aggravate him.

He'd been raised to be polite, after all.

The rest of their ride was completed in silence until, outside the building, the man offered him a hand. Hesitantly, he took it and the man shook it firmly, smiling, "Welcome to atlas, Jaune. You're in the army now, boy." Releasing his hand, he jerked his head back the way they'd come, "Two blocks to the hotel. Show your ID to the desk-man, and he'll give you a key. After that, do what you want. Sentries will give you directions anywhere and an escort too if you give them your ID card and they haven't been tasked."

"Sentries?"

"Sorry, the Knights." He answered, gesturing at a pair holding security at the base of the stairs, mechanical heads slowly pivoting right to left. "Mobile Infantry call them Sentries, since they post up like that usually. They're kinda crap at anything else aside from being a distraction but hey, a distraction is plenty fine to me."

"Ah." Made sense, he supposed. Awkwardly, he smiled and nodded, "Well, okay, then. Thanks for… Explaining that."

"Not a problem." The man answered, tapping his helmet and grimacing. Shooting him a last nod, the soldier turned and said a parting, "Good luck in training, Enlistee. Look forward to meeting you again!"

"You too!" He shouted at the man's back, earning odd looks from the soldiers and other people around him. Smiling, he waved to them and tossed nods in hello, murmuring, "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

With awkward stares boring into his back all the way, he left, making his way to the hotel. A simple building where he was met with a smile and a 'Thank you for your service' when he was given his key. Something that struck him as odd, since he'd only just enlisted, but that he simply smiled and nodded to in answer. What else was he supposed to do, after all? Correct them and be rude for no reason when they were only being kind to him? And besides, the smiles, thank yous and praise made him feel good.

Especially from the pretty girl that had handed him the key, who added quietly, "You, um, look good in your enlistment fatigues, too."

She was pretty, thin and blonde and older than him. Out of his league in a dozen ways, but she was talking to him. Because of his uniform, he figured, even if it wasn't a proper uniform at all. Nervous, he stammered an awkward, "U-Uh thanks, I guess?"

And then he left, pausing to look back and see her smiling at his back for a moment before adjusting his pack and continuing on. When he got to his room, a simple little single with a television and an included bathroom but not much else, he chucked his backpack on the bed and sighed, "Damn it, Jaune… She was cute, too."

But she was out of his league, and even now he felt like his heart would pound right out of his chest. Later, he decided, he'd go and try to talk to her again. Eventually, though, it was dark and he turned in early. Early to bed, early to rise, his mother had always told him as he grew up.

Good advice, he figured.

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"Late to bed, early to rise, fuckwads!" A voice bellowed one morning two weeks later, Jaune groaning alongside his twenty three fellows, pulling themselves out of bed.

He dropped from the top bunk and grunted, landing awkwardly and stumbling. A hand caught him by the collar of his white sleep shirt and dragged him back, the ever-jovial, tan face of his bunk-mate greeting him with a gentle shove into his bunk. He blinked and his uniform, the same in almost every way as the ones he'd been given back in Atlas proper, smacked him in the face. Courtesy of the very same bunk-mate, who chuckled through his swears and flailing arms.

"Come on, you blonde git." Tin Mann said in that thick, Vacuoan accent he had. His head had been shaved, but the rest of him matched his accent, with the kind of dark, sun kissed skin and warm brown eyes typical of some of the tribes of Vacuo. "We're on the clock. We gotta run before they shut the cafeteria doors!"

"Yeah." He nodded, stomach rumbling, "We definitely do."

Every morning was like that. One of the numerous armed and masked training sergeants came in to scream them awake and Jaune half-fell out of his bunk. Then Tin would catch him, toss him up against his bunk, and assault him with his uniform. After that they ran to the mess to shovel in breakfast before the bell rang, or they missed out and ran hungry until dinner. After that was morning physical training, as always, running laps in the snow of the tundra where the camp had been set up, far under Atlas' floating bulk. Harsh and isolated enough to condition them, but close enough that Atlas could protect them, he figured.

When he had time to think, that was, running physical training from before dawn to just after noon.

For an hour after that was maintenance training, where they practiced breaking down and fixing parts of armor purposefully damaged in specific ways. Replacing an armor plate that had a furrow carved in it like a Grimm might leave, for instance, or replacing a spent power cell that ran the warming systems of the amor. The same went for the weapons, replacing broken components or spent power cells that ran the suites that connected to the armor's helmet and HUD, monitoring ammunition and the like.

It was complicated and annoying to fix purposefully damaged armor, but then, at least he got to do it sitting down. Usually, that was, assuming that they didn't have a blizzard on hand to drill them in the heat of the storm. That had happened twice, now.

"Today's a special day, Enlistees!" A sergeant came in barking, fully armored and thus warm where they only had their light fatigues. One of them stopped working to turn and look at him and the sergeant rounded on him, "Did I say to stop working? You'll be briefed while you patch your kit out in the field, too!"

"Yes, Instructor Sergeant!" The young woman grunted stunnedly, tired but focused in the same way they all were.

"Now then, since the dumbasses are back to the grind, I get to tell you all the good new." He physically saw the wiry little woman, Mistralian and named Rhea Sky though they never spoke, bristle at his words. The sergeant had to have too, but he didn't comment on it. He was one of the kinder instructors they had, by his estimation. Smiling, he spread his arms and called out, "Partner assault course with armor and stunner rounds, fifteen minutes! Best score gets tomorrow off!"

Everyone froze in their work, this time, heads snapping up. Most snapped back down instantly to get to work, but he didn't call any of them out.

The aptly named Assault Course was little more than an assortment of about a dozen buildings made of cheap plywood in the barest facsimile of an Atlesian street and built on a bit of a hill outside. Apartments to either side, a wide open street, and metal hulks shaped roughly like cars and trucks along the sides. Partners started at one side and advanced, clearing and approaching as they liked but not knowing where the randomly placed droids were. So anyone not careful ended up stunned and thus out of their match, 'dead' and graded for it. Fail too many courses, and you got a warm bed and a full meal.

Back up in Atlas, that was.

"He's hammering them today." Mann grunted when Jaune was armored up and standing beside him, Atlesian rifle held across his chest comfortably.

Together, they watched another pair - Reyes and Brown - were ambushed from behind by a pair of white-armored droids that together stunned them into submission, their armor locking up as they fell. The white droids converged on them, kicked their weapons away and planted final shots into their chests as they struggled against their own seized up armor. The last shots signalled 'lethal damage' and a buzzer sounded, calling an end to the match as an Instructor Sergeant came out with his de-stun baton to let them up and dress them down.

"The hell are those white Knights?" Jaune asked quietly, long since converted to the joys of colorful language and how well it punctuated his words. His mother would have washed his mouth out with soap, but then, she'd probably been refining her switch swinging techniques ever since he left. "They're a whole different game than the old 100s… Flanking maneuvers, ambushes, hell, one of them grappled Greene."

"They carry swords, too." Jaune blinked, cocked his head, and gestured with a hand to the collapsible sword currently shaped like a rectangle on Mann's waist and the man nodded. "Yeah, just like ours. Can use 'em like us, too."

"What the hell…?"

"Yeah, I know, right?" Mann sighed, shaking his head as the last pair limped out, sore in more ways than just physical. Quietly, his partner murmured, "If their heads weren't literally too small, I'd think we were up against Specialists or some shit…"

"Arc! Mann!" The Instructor Sergeant snapped out, catching both of their attentions and earning sharp, loud 'Yes, Instructor Sergeant!' from both of them. Beside him, another, taller man stood silently, hands clasped behind his back and lips a flat line. "You two are up. Try to fucking impress me unlike the rest of your damn class, all right?"

They sighed, snapped 'Yes, Sirs' and shuffled towards the large gate in the fence and forcefield array that ran around the arena. Their start point for the drill was at the end of the street behind what they'd been told to consider their downed transport, with the droids taking the place of 'White Fang soldiers' who'd hit it, and they needed to reach 'rescue' at the end of the road. In reality, it was just the supply delivery truck, parked beside the barrier and another Knight holding a flag they had to touch to win.

Really broke the immersion, he felt, but whatever.

"Hook right, into that apartment. Roof to roof until it becomes a problem. Then we figure it out." Jaune ordered, technically the leader of their partner group. The man nodded quietly, taking his start position on the other side of the truck, leaning against the cover of the door with his rifle at the ready

Jaune, playing the part, did so as well.

No sooner had the start buzzer sounded did they hear pulse weapons fire, punchy burst echoing as rounds bit into their doors. He tried to step out and felt the wind of a round, and so dove back behind the door. Through the open compartment of the inside of the truck, he saw that Mann was in the same state, pinned and unable to move, and swore loudly. Using the window, he stood and peaked over the edge, ignoring the rounds that punched through the glass in answer.

"Six, apartment left side, fourth floor and fifth, sixth and seventh window from the entry door!" He called out, ducking back down as another round punched through the glass where his face had been. Glass sprinkled down his armor but he ignored it, using their helmet communicators to call over, "You spray, I'll lay?"

"Roger roger!" The man responded, rolling his shoulders and adjusting the grip on his rifle. Stepping out just enough to see, he held the rifle out further and started firing randomly, sending bursts scattering along the side of the building.

One of the droids spasmed as a round bit through its shoulder on pure luck, but Jaune ignored it and waited until the droids had entirely focused on his partner. Once they had, he stepped clear and took careful aim, putting three bursts out before the droids even noticed he'd started firing on them. The machines were better than the 100 series, to be sure, but they were still not quite up to Human level. The machines fell and, stepping free, the two of them started to head towards the apartment building to their right, aiming to use the fire escape to scale it rather than try and clear the building.

The made it three steps before a Knight dropped in front of them, kneeling and flicking a sword to full length.

"Shit!" Jaune swore, backpedaling into Mann and shoving him back.

The machine lunged and Jaune's rifle came up, catching the end of the stun-blade and clattering down in front of him for it. Mann's rifle slid between his arm and side as they scrambled back and the machine fell, chest sparking from a dozen holes. A glance to his rifle told him it wasn't useful, the sword-made gouge having furrowed through the top of the rifle and into the firing section, so he slid back behind his door with Mann behind him, using him as a shield since he was down his rifle.

Which, eh, no offense taken.

Four more droids stepped into the windows of the building they'd aimed for and Mann snarled a curse that had him blushing, scrambling through the driver's compartment to get back to his side. Down a rifle, down half a magazine, and they'd only just managed to get back to the starting position. Five more droids were advancing out of an alley a few yards ahead, too, advancing on them while those in the window kept them pinned. A bit futile of an effort, pinning him when all he had was his sword.

"Because of course those assholes don't hand out sidearms for this…" Why, he had no idea, but he hadn't been issued one. Neither had his partner, for that matter. "People hotwiring cars on the damn street have sidearms, but the greatest military on Remnant doesn't hand out anything."

Wait... Hotwiring. Cars. Trucks. The damn truck's engine was supposed to be ruined, and they had to play along with it, but it had wheels. And wheels kind of obviously rolled if they were pushed, engines or not. And they were at the top of a slight hill. As hard as he possibly could, since he was the strongest of their pair by far, he slammed his shoulder into the door not once but twice.

When it didn't budge, he started to laugh, leaning his head against the inside of the door.

"Arc, are you going to explain the joke to me or should I wait until you publish your damn routine?" Mann called over, kneeling behind his door and pulling another stack from his waist to replace the spent one in his rifle.

"Get in, smash the window, and suppress them." He ordered instead, cracking his neck and meeting the other man's eyes. Or, well, his visor but such didn't matter. Because he said, grinning, "I have an idea. You just need to steer us straight."

"Oh shit…"

Mann wasn't particularly enthused about his idea but did as he said, practically crawling into the floorboard and once again spraying random fire at the droids in the building. The droids did as he'd hoped, focusing their fire on the window of the truck, and Jaune crouched low. This time, he slammed his shoulder into the juncture that connected the door to the truck itself. A round smacked into his armored shin, freezing up the foot, but he ignored it and pushed anyway.

A stiff leg would work for what he needed anyway.

It was hard but, empty as it was since they hadn't loaded it up for the scenario, the truck began rolling inside a few seconds. The incline of the hill was slight, so Jaune was forced to push it a bit further than he'd have liked, but he managed to leap into the rolling truck before any more shots hit him. With his leg, he couldn't hide in the floorboards like man did, but that was fine.

Instead, he leapt into the back and laid there, panting, sweating and watching dents pockmark the top of the truck. The droids in the road crunched as they were crushed, the armored hulk picking up speed as it went. Now rounds were pockmarking the sides of the truck, too, as what had to be a dozen more droids opened up on it. It didn't matter, though, the small arms couldn't punch through. And even if they had, they were laid out, safe and sound, so the shots would probably miss.

Then the truck's front hit something and came to a stop, jerking to the side a bit.

"How close?" Jaune demanded as he rolled over, ignoring the rounds punching into the truck.

"Ten feet out!" Mann answered, grinning, "And now I have an idea."

"Fuck me…"

"Couldn't pay me!"

"What's your idea?" Asshole, he didn't add, though the smirk told him Mann was well aware of the unstated end of the sentence.

"Well, the outside of the truck is armored, but the inside isn't." Mann grunted, jerking a thumb at the door beside him. Or, more specifically, the hinge of the door. Smiling, the man added, "You said you wanted to be a knight when you were younger, yeah?"

"God damn it..." The man had never been willing to let him live that down ever since he told him about it. Sighing, he shrugged, "Sure, let's do it. Can't fuck us anymore than we are right now, right? Help me rip one of these seats out, though, so we don't get shot while we do it."

Using the seat as a shield, he knelt while Mann worked the barrel of his weapon along the hinge of the door, boring holes in it with the rounds. The droids' shots could pierce the cotton and faux leather, of course, but between pinging off its frame, them not being able to see him, and the thickness of the seat, the worst he got hit with was spent, ineffectively slow rounds pinging off his armor. At that speed, they wouldn't have punctured, so his training armor's sensors didn't read it as a wound.

Lucky him.

"Got it!" Mann called over his shoulder, "Push it off with your shoulder like the damn god of misusing motor vehicles you are and lets get to the damn flag."

Rolling his eyes he turned and slammed his shoulder into the inside of the door, the metal giving way as he let the seat go. Mann took it and held it up, using it the same way he had while he hefted the huge truck door. It weighed a lot, but then, he was the strongest member of their pair and came from strong stock, so he could hold it.

"Ready?" Mann nodded and shouted a 'roger' and Jaune took a breath, and, as loud as he could, ordered, "Charge!"

Together, they sprinted towards the stock still droid not ten feet way, watching them impassively. Rounds rained down on them and e grunted as they slapped into his side and arm, freezing them and making him hobble on two mostly locked up legs. Halfway there, a round smacked Mann in the back of the head and he sagged, swearing all the while as his armor seized upon him for the 'lethal' shot.

Staggering as rounds smacked into his back, he didn't so much tag the droid as tackled it, hands wrapped around the rod of the flagpole while the ending buzzer sounded.

He expected a dressing down for that but instead, the Instructor Sergeant simply came over and started tapping the locked up limb components. Jaune rolled over and the man offered a gloved hand, which pulled him up.

Quietly, the man asked, "Whose plans were these?"

"Arc's for the first." Mann answered for him, "Mine for the second, but only because the bastard is so damn strong." After a moment the man swallowed and added a quiet, "Uh, Instructor Sergeant, Sir."

"Hm." The man tapped his helmet and the front armor slid apart and back along the helmet, a safety feature in case of power outages. Smiling when they both snapped to attention at recognizing him, he introduced himself with an offered hand, "I'm Specialist Clover Ebi, Enlistees, Atlesian AceOps."

"Jaune Arc, Sir."

"Tin Mann, Sir."

"At ease and shake my hand." He chuckled, the two enlistees doing as ordered stiffly. Smiling, he turned to look at the truck and murmured, "You know, we wanted to bring in a truck that got wrecked out on patrol yesterday. Blizzard snowed it in, though, and we wanted the 300 series tested today, so your truck had wheels. Lucky you, huh?"

"Yes, Sir." They both answered, still straight backed and anxious with a known Huntsmen in front of them.

"And I'm here replacing one of my team since she got ill, too. She was only going to watch the droids and report back, but I have authority to scout for the Specialists." The man, a personal soldier to Ironwood himself no less, smiled and cocked his head. "Recruit 'em straight into Atlas Academy. You know that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Well, I could commend you and you could go to the mess for a hot meal and your day off tomorrow, since they're taking the wheels off the truck now…" Jaune winced sympathetically at that and the man chuckled. "Or," the man added, "I could talk to either of you about Atlas Academy, and its enrollment options. You'd be separated, of course, and tested for Aura capabilities, but… Would you like to know more?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Yes, please!"

He wasn't ashamed that his voice cracked or that his decorum slipped, but the man's chuckle made him fluch. Clapping them on the shoulder, he stepped by and waved for them to follow him, "Well, come on, then. Let's get you up to a hot and a cot in Atlas with the rest of the Specialist hopefuls while we get our Aura activator in from Mistral."

"Mistral, sir?" Jaune asked, curious but following him. Clover gave him a look with his brow raised and Jaune explained, "I thought that the Specialists had people who handled it domestic, Sir."

"Yeah, but it's a diplomatic thing, apparently." Clover shrugged dismissively and added, tiredly, "Not to mention most of our Specialists are in the field, here or in Vale. Didn't hear it from me, but apparently Beacon's headmaster requested the general send some more subtle support."

Quietly, and anxiously, Jaune shot his partner a look. The man simply shrugged and, quietly, they followed him to strip out of their dinged and dirty training armor. Then they boarded a gunship and circled up and away, fully a week early, towards Atlas for further testing.

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I had the writing bug.

Sue me.

Got tired at the end and had difficulties with Clover's character, sorry. Now watch me make him pop up here and be a traitor or something.

Anyway, to put the advisory out there, no. Jaune will not basically be 'Jaune just like in RWBY but in Atlas, lol'. Specialists are a military arm, he was near to finishing basic, and I am running Atlas Academy differently to, say, Vale. More military, military operations, etc. It won't be classes and the like in the same sense. So I guess you could argue I am making a semi-AU Atlas Academy and should have tagged that but eh, we don't actually really know how Atlas handles all its stuff.

Apologies.

Glad you all are enjoying the premise~!

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Talon ibn La Ahad :

I'm totally not doing that on purpose. .

Zenith Tempest :

I anticipated such problems, and using a bit of writing fuckery, have an idea I'm intending to try out with this. Ozpin's group will of course show up eventually given, you know, Ironwood, but such is unavoidable. And will be, er, tweaked somewhat.

Vic Grey :

By support I mean Reviews like this and Supporter interest. Got a lot of the former, none of the latter but eh, might continue this anyway. We shall see.

I Like Anime a Lot More :

Your grammar is fine. A note on Overlord, it is technically finished. The next book will be out some time from now, once I have finished planning it out.