The Grey Freelancer of Remnant Volume Two
Chapter Two
"Welcome to Beacon"
To Headmaster Ozpin from Councilman Julius Aurelius
I, of course, understand that, given your busy schedule as headmaster of one of the most prestigious combat schools on the planet, investigating the crash site has been lower on your list of priorities. As such, I have dispatched Praetorians, the personal guards to us councilman, to investigate the crash site themselves. They report to me and the council alone, I am sure you understand the necessity of this decision.
One thing that has stuck out to us from the beginning has been the design of the ship. It matches none of the known airship designs of any kingdom, not even Atlas. Furthermore, the hull has the letters, "UNSC," inscribed upon it, perhaps a clue as to who's this ship once was? I am sure that if you had any information regarding this, you would have brought it to the council's attention immediately.
The docks of Beacon Academy were packed with transport ships from around the world, as well as a trio of Altesean warships. General Ironwood had left nothing up to chance, bringing hundreds of his best soldiers.
"It seems like a bit much, doesn't it?" said Ruby.
Wash nodded in agreement.
"Well, it is a very important event," said Weiss, "the tournament does need to be secure, after all."
"Wouldn't that be up to Vale?" responded Blake, "after all,. Vale is hosting this year."
"Oh, please," replied Weiss derisively, "Vale has no military to speak of. In fact the city has very little defense aside from huntsmen and police officers."
"There's always the Praetorians," said Blake.
"Their job is to protect the council, not provide security for tournaments with massive amounts of people," said Weiss.
"Still," said Yang," it makes me uneasy.
Wash nodded once again. According to everything he'd read, Remnant was in a time of peace like no other. If that were true, then why bring a small fleet of warships with an accompanying army to a tournament that would already inherently have hundreds of trained fights in attendance? Something was clearly amiss, he mused, and he reckoned the headmasters knew about it, or, at the very least, General Ironwood did. Wash shook these thoughts aside, he was just being paranoid, he told himself. He wouldn't let his fear or trust issues get in the way of his friends, not again.
Wash squeezed off a burst from his BR55, Vigilance. A target went down with three holes clustered around the center of its head. Next to him, Ruby fired off a round from Crescent Rose and obliterated the top half of the target she had been aiming for.
"That thing packs a punch," commented Wash.
"Crescent Rose is not a thing!" Ruby exclaimed, affronted.
Wash raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, my bad, it, erm, she? packs a punch" he apologized.
"But yes, she certainly does pack a punch," Ruby continued proudly.
Wash glanced at the small scoreboard to their side, showing a 22 next to Wash's picture, while Ruby only had sixteen. "Not enough to beat me," Wash joked.
"Hey!" exclaimed Ruby, "that's not fair! Crescent Rose has a slower firing rate anyway, she's a bolt action. Vigilance is three-round burst."
"But Vigilance has a smaller mag size. I only have a thirty-six round magazine and, due to the three round burst, is only good for twelve shots,"
"But Crescent Rose has much more recoil!" Ruby protested.
"Alright, let's go again then," Wash challenged his much shorter team leader.
Ruby narrowed her eyes determinedly. "You're on," she accepted the challenge.
Just then, before they could get a new round of targets going, they heard a voice from behind them.
"Hey guys," called Cadell, South by his side. Cadell Glas was a member of Team ASCH and a friend of South. He was near the top of the leaderboard, ranked fourth, between Yang and Nora respectively, and, with his sword Silvershard, was a force to be reckoned with in battle. He was caring and friendly and had a quick smile.
"Hey, Cadell," replied Ruby cheerily. "Hey, South."
"South," Wash greeted his former colleague. somewhat guardedly. South was the reason he was on Remnant in the first place. When they'd been fighting the Meta, she shot him in the back and left him for dead, but the damage done to his healing unit tore a hole in the fabric of reality. Wash had gotten over his loathing for her, but he still did not trust her fully, and likely never would again.
"Wash," South returned the greeting.
"So, how have you guys been?" asked Cadell.
"Pretty good," answered Ruby, "Wash and I were just practicing our marksmanship."
"Cool," replied Cadell, "did you guys hear about the new exchange students?"
"You'll have to be more specific," responded Wash.
"The ones from Atlas," Cadell clarified.
"Oh, they're coming today!" exclaimed Ruby, "Atlas has the coolest weapons! I can't wait to see all their cool gadgets and stuff! Aren't you excited, Wash? They'll probably have, like, robot swords that shoot fire, or something, oh, or maybe tons of cool guns!"
Wash was caught off-guard by the torrent of excited questions from his diminutive team leader. "Uh," was his only response.
Cadell chuckled, while South rolled her eyes.
"The Minstrali students also arrived earlier today," South told them.
"I guess the tournament's really coming up," commented Ruby, a slight edge of nervousness in her voice.
"We'll be ready for it," Wash assured her.
Cadell chuckled. "According to Ash, the only way to win is by practicing in every spare second of the day," he said ruefully.
Wash had heard many stories from Cadell and South about their esteemed leader, Ash Roux. Suffice to say, those stories were rarely ever positive. Wash had never heard of a more dysfunctional, combative team, with the exception of the team he had been on as a part of Project Freelancer.
"And that strategy obviously isn't working," South added.
Cadell nodded in agreement. "No kidding," he said.
"Well Ruby's doing a great job getting us prepared," said Wash.
"Oh, come on, that's not true, I mean, I don't even, uh, you don't," Ruby stammered. "You guys do a lot more than me," she finally pieced together a clear sentence.
"Well, we'll see you guys around," said Cadell, turning with South to go spar.
"They're nice," Ruby commented, as they walked away.
Wash shrugged, he liked Cadell well enough, he was kind, helpful, and good in a fight, but South? That was a non-starter. Her brother, North, had been a close friend of his back in Project Freelancer, he had been kind, understanding, and protective, an all-around great friend. He was dead now. Wash had been the one to place the explosive charge on his body to ensure none of his equipment fell into enemy hands, though that job hadn't gone well, as the Meta, in its quest for more power, had taken North's A.I. fragment Theta. Wash couldn't be sure of his theory, but he was convinced South had done what she'd done to him to North and left him to die at the hands of the Meta so she could assure her own safety.
"Let's do another round." He was done thinking about South, he wouldn't let her, or the Meta, get in the way of him having a good time with his friend, he'd already made that mistake.
"You're on."
Dr. Leonard Church, the director of Project Freelancer, stood in front of a wide monitor, his hands clasped behind his back. On the monitor was a series of images, all taken from the last known location of Agents Washington, South Dakota and Maine, and, more importantly, the artificial intelligence fragment Delta. The images showed a scene of blackened scorch marks on the ground, with brass shell casings and fragments of concrete littering the floor. The feature that dominated the scene was a perfectly circular, black scorch mark with nothing inside it. Nothing except a few blades of perfectly unburnt green grass and leaves, as well as a smattering of brown soil.
Aiden Price, the counselor, walked to the Director's side. "Have you found anything, sir?" he asked.
"Indeed I have, Counselor," replied the Director. He gestured at the monitors in front of him.
"Is that..." the Counselor trailed off.
"Grass, leaves, and dirt," the Director finished. "They're clearly not from the environment they're in now."
The counselor nodded, even he knew that. The earthy elements were clearly out-of-place in the urban environment they were in. "What does this mean?" he asked.
"It means that something strange has taken place," the Director answered cryptically, "and I intend to figure out exactly what it is."
The sky was dark, not because it was late, but because it was early. Wash was used to being up early. Even on uneventful days, it had been a requirement to up and awake by 5:00 in the morning, so a 5:30 run was nothing new to him. He wore a grey, athletic shirt and black sweat pants with yellow stripes as he ran the paths of Beacon. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint, orange glow in the sky.
Wash enjoyed this early-morning runs. They gave him good time alone to be with his thoughts. He loved his team, but they could be a little... much sometimes. The more he thought about this new world he was in, the more overwhelming it all seemed. He had been transported to a foreign world in a freak accident that had happened in the wake of a grievous betrayal. A betrayal for which he would never forgive the perpetrator.
Even more than that, he was now on a world full of dangerous, bloodthirsty monsters, academies full of trained, teenage warriors with super powers, and its own host of political and social issues.
As Wash neared a crossroads, his thoughts were interrupted as he ran into none other than Pyrrha Nikos, both of them managing to catch themselves before they fell.
"Sorry," the red-haired warrior apologized, embarrassed. She was dressed in a tight, red tank top and black sweatpants
"It's fine," Wash was quick to assure her.
"I didn't think anyone else would be up at this hour," she said.
"Neither did I," responded Wash, with a light smirk.
Pyrrha returned the smile.
"It's good to see that someone else values a good, strict training routine," said Wash.
"I guess it's just become a habit," she replied.
"A habit?" Wash inquired.
"Well, once I started gaining success in the Minstral regional tournaments, my teachers and mentors made sure to ramp up my training, and that only increased once I gained real fame," she explained.
"Fame?" asked Wash, surprised, had he really not known that one of his friends was a celebrity.
"Wait... you don't know?" replied Pyrrha, equally shocked.
"Don't know what?" asked Wash.
"I'm... I guess you could say I'm something of a celebrity," said Pyrrha somewhat nervously.
"Really?"
"I was even made the official mascot of Pumpkin Pete's breakfast cereal," Pyrrha continued, "though I honestly wouldn't recommend it, you know, for health reasons."
Wash nodded. "That would certainly explain why you keep dominating the leaderboards," he said, not being able to keep himself from thinking about a certain other red-haired, green-eyed warrior from his past.
Pyrrha chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I guess so," she responded.
"We really haven't talked much, have we?" said Wash, "I mean, I somehow didn't know that one of my friends was famous."
"I guess not," responded Pyrrha uncomfortably.
Wash was not the most socially-adept individuals ever, but even he could tell that she wasn't exactly comfortable with her fame. She never boasted about it or went out her way to tell others about it, not only that, but she even seemed uncomfortable now when he brought it up.
"Uh, anyways, how have things been with JNPR?" he awkwardly changed the subject.
"Great!" Pyrrha replied enthusiastically. "Jaune, Ren, and Nora are great teammates, and Jaune's coming along super well! He's a great leader too."
"So I've heard," Wash replied noncommittally.
"How about you?" Pyrrha asked.
"RWWBY's great," responded Wash, "Ruby may be young, but she's a surprisingly good leader," and an even better friend, he thought to himself.
"Is it odd having a bigger team than anyone else?" asked Pyrrha.
"You'd think so," replied Wash, "but not really, it feels right, like they're the ones I'm supposed to be with. It may be unorthodox, but I wouldn't have it any other way."
"You were right," said Pyrrha, "we really haven't talked much."
"Yeah, I guess we'll have to change that," replied Wash, and he meant it. In the short time he'd known her, it'd become abundantly clear that Pyrrha Nikos was one of the most humble, kind-hearted people he'd ever known.
The two continued on their runs together, talking about all manner of things, from weapons, to training routines, to their friends. Wash smiled to himself, the day was off to a great start.
Project Freelancer had been formed to combat the vicious alien threat if the Covenant. As such, they had been given access to some very advanced pieces of technology,one of which was about to play a key role in the hunt for the organization's lost operatives.
The soil samples from the sight of the disappearances had been sparse, but they had been enough. PFL had access to a device that could analyze the contents and origin of different types of soil. Technically, it wasn't Project Freelancer's, but the Director had been able to pull some strings to get what he needed. When the test came back, there was no known exact match, though it bore striking similarities to soil found in coniferous forests on Earth.
The Director had surmised that the foreign soil, as well as the grass and leaves, were from wherever his missing agents and were. His hypothesis was that the armor equipment of the agents had malfunctioned and ripped a hole in time and space, teleporting them to some place out in the vast universe. The armor abilities he'd outfitted his agents with had always been unstable, using ancient Forerunner technology, stolen Covenant components, and original human parts, he could see no other alternate possibility.
The Director was a crafty man, he would not give up just because there was no immediate match in the database. He would send probes far and wide to the very edges of human-colonized space and beyond until a match was found.
The hunt had begun.
To Be Continued...