You know, these chapters are getting REALLY long REALLY frequently. Whatever, on with the show!
Chapter 7: Getting a Grip on the Premise
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.—Mother Theresa
It was around 20 minutes after Pyrrha Nikos had left his new dorm at Beacon Academy that Jacob was able to fully begin wrapping his head around the predicament he was currently in.
God, even that concept alone set his head in a proverbial tailspin.
"Jesus Tapdancing Fuck!" He screamed into a pillow, desperately avoiding to stomp the floor out of courtesy for those on the floors below him. I'm a student to an Academy on a planet that is not my own, in a star system that is definitely not my own, in a galaxy probably not my own, in a Universe that's potentially not my own! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING MULLER!? You should be trying to find a way back home! Hell, you shouldn't even BE here!
And as usual when he was upset, he would start pacing in circles as he let his mind run its course. He spent around 5 solid minutes just pacing to calm his nerves as his brain worked overtime to process the last 2 hours he had spent conscious.
He woke up in Beacon Academy.
He met Ruby Rose, the next Silver Eyed Maiden... whatever that entailed long-term.
He met Ozpin and essentially BLACKMAILED his way into Beacon's student body through Amber, the Fall Maiden. Probably not that smart a move.
He met—rather, met back up with—Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos. That in and of itself was enough to throw him off greatly. And she happened to awaken his Aura.
Well, that's a helluva boon, he chuckled in his mind.
Now, here he was, alone with a dorm all to himself and his backpack. His last piece of home, as it were.
Fucking hell, he needed some water or something. He rushed to the restroom, turning the water in the sink to full blast to splash his face so he may at least attempt to clear his mind.
About that time he looked up into the mirror over the sink. Time to see how much of a visual mark I made on them.
Well, the good news was, he wasn't sporting any new scars, his forehead wasn't greasy from four days of no shower usage, and his goatee-mustache was still relatively short, though he was starting to work on a chin strap that would give him the Obi-Wan/Riker look.
The bad news was—if it really could be called bad—is that the image staring back at him looked like him... but was distinctly... animesque.
wider-than normal eyes, smaller nose—even smaller than it had already been—with barely a bridge to be seen, smaller-than-normal mouth... yeah, he looked like he belonged on Remnant.
Part of him wanted to shout out in shock. But honestly, he had enough of screaming for right now; time to actually take something well for a change.
I wonder... He flashed his teeth in the reflection; sure enough, the 10-odd years of lightweight staining from tea-drinking had disappeared, leaving him with a good set of pearly whites. "Well, that's one less thing to worry about. Granted, that left incisor turning is still a problem..." he lamented to no one as he checked the rest of himself. Nothing else to report, he was otherwise the same as he had been on Earth, broad shoulders and all. Really the only thing was that his face fit far more into the crowd now, sharing the features common in any anime, and by extension in RWBY.
It was going to be a bitch to get used to seeing that in the mirror every morning.
Deciding enough was enough, Jacob returned to the main room to start unpacking what was inside his backpack. Out came everything; his Bible, The Art of War, the sketchpad, the RWBY Steelbox, The Flight of the Eisenstein—
His brain hit the brakes as he looked back at the RWBY Steelbox now sitting on his bed. Inside he had all three of the first three seasons—The Beacon Arc they called it—and with it a copied disc of Season 4's episodes—Although he had also downloaded them all to his phone for on-the-go viewing. Thank God for Youtube and all that.
Inside this box was essentially the future of this world, written down—or rather animated—and set in stone.
Including The End of the Beginning.
A pit formed in Jacob's stomach as he took in the solemn note. Here he was, in this reality, essentially between The Badge and the Burden and Jaunedice in the timeline, months out from the Battle of Beacon.
Months out from Cinder's attack.
Muller felt a strong draw of hatred now to that name, far more than he had back on Earth; Sure, he hated her guts for killing Pyrrha, but it was just a show.
But now it wasn't. Pyrrha was real. Cinder was real.
And the latter would kill the former in a few months' time.
Pyrrha Nikos had only months to live.
Jacob felt his breakfast wanting to escape his stomach. Bearing in mind how he had his father's cast iron stomach, that was saying a lot. Whether it was anger or fear or whatever it was, it was enough to incite rebellion of a sort.
He sat down in the chair that came with the desk, continuing to rummage through his bag to clear his mind. As he had noticed before, Fight of the Eisenstein—a Horus Heresy novel—had made its way into his backpack; the only problem was he didn't own any of the Heresy novels. Hell, not even any normal 40K novels were part of his library, and yet during his digging he found a copy of The Traitor's Hand, one of the Ciaphas Cain novels.
As much as I wanted to read these two, why the hell do I have all these books in here? I don't even own these two, and the rest of these...
The latter he was referring to were the assortment of 6th and 7th Edition codexes floating about as well. He owned some of them—Particularly most if not all of the Imperium's codexes sans the Inquisition's—but not one of the alien or Chaos ones he found as well he could claim ownership of.
...I can't even begin to divine why these are here.
He opted to leave the codexes somewhere safe and hidden away, lest someone find them and start asking questions; Just great, another piece of incriminating evidence to reveal where he was actually from.
Continuing to fish through, he came upon his various Character models and decided to set them on the desk; those he could at least sign off as generic toys of sentimental value; technically that description was not wrong. His Inquisitor, a Space Marine Terminator Cataphractii Captain—a model he was particularly proud of creating—, a Lady Commissar, a Tempestor Prime and his Bike Chaplain took up spots on the desk overlooking his study area, in a sense as totems watching over him. He chuckled darkly at that idea. Guess old habits die hard, he thought as he remembered how often he did similar with his other toys as a child.
Setting out his sketchpad for later, everything else was pulled out from the bag, including a few more novels—Holy crap, did my bag turn into a TARDIS or something?—and his power chords, which fortunately worked with the standard plug-ins to allow him to start charging his phone. Jacob immediately flopped into his chair, still mentally digesting everything that had happened to him. Twiddling a penny from his wallet in his hand—another thing he often did to occupy his mind and calm his nerves—he ran over his current position.
Okay, okay, so... you know the future here.
You know the death-dates of several characters here. Namely Oz, Penny... and Pyrrha.
He clutched the penny in his hand tightly, the terrible idea of having to watch them die—only now in the flesh instead of through a television monitor—darkening his mood.
You know their enemy... sorta.
You know the Maidens... sorta.
You know what's at stake... sorta.
...Fucking a, I'm way too in over my head.
He clutched his head in exasperation. How out of his league was he now in comparison to when he was in the Emerald Forest? Leaps and bounds, to be certain.
What can one man do to change fate... CAN I change fate? The thought of watching Pyrrha die, of Penny being drawn and quartered by her own weapons, of Yang slipping into her depression... having to see it in person no less...
It was maddening.
But something in him began to whisper... Not like a voice in his head like a delusion, mind you, more like his conscience actively trying to tell him something through his subconscious.
Stand...
Just then, he heard a knock at the door.
"Oh, uh, hang on!" He got to his feet and was at the door in record time, opening it to reveal his visitor.
"Ruby?"
"Hay Jacob! Just wanted to drop by and... well, see how you're doing." She was obviously a bit nervous as she twiddled her thumbs; He remembered she was kind of socially-awkward.
"Oh, uhm, pretty good thus far... Just, uh, been getting my room fixed up and all... though I do kinda feel awful about getting one all by my lonesome."
"Ah, well, you got us for neighbors, so that... counts for something, I guess." Ruby rocked on her heels, no doubt looking for either an excuse to cut the conversation off at the proverbial knees or another conversation piece.
The two stood in the doorframe in their awkward silence.
About that time, Ruby's eyes darted over in the direction of his desk. The curious look in her eyes told him she had seen his Warhammer characters.
"Hey, what are those?"
Shit. Didn't think that through, did ya Jacob?
"Hmm?" Jacob mused in faked confusion.
"On your desk," she said as she maneuvered past him.
"Oh, those are some plastic models from home. Just some personal effects as it were," he said while mentally sweating bullets. "Made them myself, painted them all as well. They're kinda... kinda my reminders of home, as it were..."
Ruby moved to pick up one of them—the Terminator Captain—studying the model closely. Jacob's heart for the second time in a row today began to thunder in his chest.
"You like artsy stuff?"
"Uh, yeah, I sketch, I paint; It, uh, it's kinda relaxing for me for when I just start stressing out and need to... need to get my thoughts together and all that." Stumbling over your words, I thought you were past this Jacob.
"Neat. I've always had an admiration for craftsmen like that."
He felt his blood pressure begin to level out. "Really? I mean, all things considered you should consider yourself amongst them, what with that scythe of yours."
She set down the Captain and turned, the hopeful gleam in her eyes at the mention of Crescent Rose telling him that he had her undivided attention. "You really think so?"
"Oh yeah, no doubt about it; Takes a skilled hand to forge something like that, and an even better hand to wield it."
She began to wear the most adorable blush on her cheeks, more evident than on most people by her pale complexion. "Well, I mean, yeah, weapons have always been kinda my thing..."
Muller shrugged his shoulders in affirmation. "I know the feeling; always wanted to make my own of some kind, but it never was really that practical back home. Usually was smarter to just get a pistol or rifle and use that in tandem with a knife or something."
Ruby's silver eyes migrated over to him as she asked, "But what about Huntsmen and Huntresses?"
"Well..." Jacob started, trying to come up with a story to work off of. "Yeah, Huntsmen were kinda rare back home," he lied through his teeth. "We always had a habitual tendency to go it alone anyhow. Better to be able to go solo if necessity arises then be hamstrung when there's no help to come." That last part was no lie, considering the American philosophy of war.
"But what about the Grimm?"
"They die just as easily by cutting them to pieces as by pouring firepower downrange. Only difference is one's dangerous but brave and the other's practical but cowardly."
Ruby gave him a look that said she didn't agree with him all that much.
"Hey, that doesn't mean I don't approve of melee. If anything I think more people ought to do it; Sometimes the smart thing isn't the most noble thing."
That seemed to hit a chord with her as the cheery smile returned to her face. "Well, in that case Mr. Muller, you oughta look into getting more than just that pistol."
He sighed in exasperation as an old thought came back to him. "Right, only problem is I don't know what exactly suits me. I mean, I'm not exactly agile nor am I that strong, but I've always waffled about what weapon defines me; after all, a weapon is—"
"—An extension of one's self!" He and Ruby finished in tandem before sharing a laugh.
"Oh my stars, I didn't think anyone else thought like that!"
"Well, a person's weapon is kinda their signature, you can tell a lot about them by the tools of battle they wield."
"In that sense," Ruby said through a giggle, "What kind of weapon do you like?"
"That's just it, the most I've ever had an opportunity to use are knives, clubs or axes," the second referring to his time playing baseball in his youth and the third referring to his time splitting wood on camping trips. Sure it was about as much experience as a Call of Duty player saying they could wield a full-auto assault rifle but it was better than nothing.
Ruby looked off to the side, pondering his answer with an audible hum of thought. "...Tell you what, come down to the sparring ring later this evening and I'll help you out."
"Oh, you sure? Well, thank you," Jacob replied, "That's, uh, that's very kind of you."
Ruby flashed a kind smile. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?"
...
...
Friends?
"Friends?"
"Yeah, I mean, if you want to be friends..."
"Well, I mean, yeah, I would like to be friends, but I must confess I've never made a friend that quickly before. I mean, I didn't imagine you were one for being a social butterfly, uh, no offense."
"Well... I guess I'm starting to figure out you need some friends. You can't go it alone as much as you may think... or as much as I thought." She shared a genuine smile that melted his heart. Goddamn she's cute as a button, who could say no to those puppy-dog eyes?
"I suppose it is the wiser thing to do to find friends in this world. Okay, Ruby," he outstretched his left in a handshake, "let's start it off proper; Hi, I'm Jacob Muller."
Her hand stretched out to meet his, both holding a gentle grasp on one another's hand.
"Ruby Rose."
After about ten more minutes of chatting and planning out the next few days—It turned out today was a Friday so tomorrow was the start of the weekend and an opportunity for Jacob to prep up for classes—Ruby departed for her dorm, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Did I just become friends with Ruby Rose... just like that?
"This day just keeps throwing things at me, doesn't it?"
He leaned back on his chair, his mind deep in contemplation as he stared above into the ceiling.
Stand...
There were those words again, just as cryptic as before. Stand... for what? Stand against? Stand in defiance? Stand proud? What was his subconscious trying to tell him?
In the meantime, he mused to himself, Might as well hit the shower. I probably stink like a corpse.
He stood there in the scalding hot water for a solid five minutes before setting to his task, just letting the aches and tire work their way out of his system. His mind was compartmentalizing the last fifteen minutes he had spent with Ruby, taking in every minute of their conversation.
...I swear nothing could ever bring her spirits down. Always beaming, always happy...
About that time her horrified face from PvP and The End of The Beginning zoomed by his mind's eye as if to flip him the bird.
...Even after that she didn't give up.
He began to play Season 4 in his head, Ruby's trials and triumphs bringing a subconscious smile to him.
No better a hero than that, I guess.
And then Jaune flashed in his mind.
Poor kid.
That poor bastard's going through hell and high-water more so than I could be really, yet I'm the one sitting here getting a hella hand up as it were; Oz offered me attendance directly, Pyrrha awakened my Aura... Ruby's offering to train me.
This isn't right. He needs their help more than I do.
His head made impact with the wall in exasperation. "What am I gonna do..."
About that time Pyrrha flashed by his mind's eye too.
And his over-analytical side began to crunch numbers.
Always on a pedestal, never allowed to be a normal girl back home. She's trying to run from her fame.
an arrow zoomed through his thoughts.
Little did she know that her fame would go to her head...
His mind played back the scene of her gasping as the arrow skewered her heart, reaching out... to Ruby.
Stand...
He felt his fist clench tightly around his cross pattée, his one signature necklace that he wore at all times.
"No."
The room was eerily quiet, save for the sound of the running water.
"No, I won't let that happen."
Knowledge is power, guard it well...
"I know what's coming. I saw it. And I can fix it."
None shall find us wanting...
The water was cut as he returned to his clothes. He found a razor set in amongst the toiletries provided, and quickly trimmed up his beard and 'stache. By the time he was done, he was looking back at the same man who had first arrived here. His brows furrowed as he stared back at his reflection.
"You wanna save her so bad, Jacob? Well then, let's get to work."
Another knock at the front door.
Wonder who that is?
He was still rolling things around in his head when he was met at the door by Professor Ozpin, still holding his mug that for all intents and purposes was refilled with a fresh brew. Jesus, how much coffee does he drink?
"Ah, Mr. Muller," Ozpin said with a hint of relief, "I was wondering if you were busy exploring the Academy grounds."
"Me? Nah, I figured I might as well get things settled and set up BEFORE I start to get cabin fever," he affirmed with a finishing chuckle.
Ozpin attempted to suppress a chuckle himself, no doubt wanting to keep an air of professionalism. "Well, as long as you have some time to spare, I would like you to come with me for a few minutes in regards to... certain subjects."
Another pit settled in Jacob's stomach; He was talking about Amber, no doubt about it. "Uh, if it is what I think it is than by all means, Professor."
"Excellent, follow me please."
The walk over was short, but Ozpin seemed to be taking his time, as if to test Muller's patience. Probably checking to see how I react.
It was during the walk through the main courtyard that Ozpin spoke up. "Tell me, Mr. Muller, how much do you know of the Maidens?"
Jacob suppressed the smirk trying to worm its way off his face. "Well, I do know there's four of them, one for each season obviously. I know they're straight-up magic, not some Dust manipulation trick or something like that. I know only ladies can be Maidens and that the power transfers to the last person on their mind before they..." He struggled to finish his sentence as the memory of Amber's passing in Heroes and Monsters, "...Before they pass."
"You seem well-versed in the subject. How did you come across this knowledge, if I may ask?" Ozpin's tone was dangerous, expecting Jacob to say something incriminating.
"I, uh, I met Amber a while back," he fibbed, "and I caught her in the middle of using the Maiden's powers against some Grimm; it was off the beaten path as it were and I was travelling at the time to meet up with some old friends. She swore me to secrecy, and I willingly took an oath of silence on the subject. Then she gave me the rundown of the whole situation, or at least what she was willing to tell. Ever since then I've been doing my own research into the subject, looking for whatever knowledge I could on the matter, 'fairy tale' or not."
By now they were stopped in front of the massive stone fountain that dominated the courtyard; the swordsman with his blade raised high stared off to the south, scanning for threats beyond the Beowolf crawling its way from underneath the stone they stood atop.
"And what of... her?"
Salem. Jacob's brow furrowed; Ironically enough, he was moot on finer details as well, since the show had left watchers in the dark for the most part about Salem herself.
"The most I know about her is also from Amber; someone with a connection to the Grimm, pale as a ghost, a schemer if ever there existed one, and has contacts all over Hell and Creation. Other than that, I will admit that was mostly a shallow bargaining chip."
Ozpin chuckled as he took another sip of coffee. "I seem to be in the presence of a burgeoning strategist; That was a risky move all things considered."
"I tend to play close to the hands in poker, I run foolish gambits after holding the line for a bit on the rare occasion I play chess, and in W—" He caught himself before he could spill the beans on Warhammer, "—Well, in most strategy games I will play a slow-moving but sure-hitting strategy. But a good strategist knows when there is the time to plan and the time to act, and I figured this was one of those times for the latter." He grinned as he looked over at the fountain. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Ozpin staring at him intensely.
"Then... I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."
Time to act again.
"What do you mean?" Jacob asked.
"...Come with me." Ozpin began to walk back towards the Tower where his office was... and where Amber was being kept alive down below-ground.
Jacob grimaced as he caught up with Ozpin, continuing to play the part he had crafted for himself. "Is... is she alright?"
Ozpin remained quiet as they entered the Tower and came up to the elevator. Getting in, he activated a panel that revealed a keypad. A passcode, of course. While Ozpin plugged in the numbers, Jacob looked ahead in pretend that he wasn't actually watching the passcode out of the corner of his vision.
0-7-1-8-1-3.
Gotta remember that code. Remember, the day after Disneyland's 58th anniversary. Though... that sounds familiar from another perspective. What is it... Gah, whatever.
It was a solid minute-long elevator ride down to The Vault; if Jacob had to guess they were probably about 700 or so feet below the school based on how fast it was going to how long it took. The doors opened to reveal The Vault in all of its low-light, unfeasibly-long glory.
"Wow..."
"Indeed." Ozpin didn't even take an opportunity for Jacob to take it all in before he began walking down the corridor.
"As you probably know by now, Mr. Muller, the Maidens are not alone in this endeavor of holding back the darkness; our organization has been crucial in protecting them from outside forces, as well as making certain that... unsavory individuals do not receive the Maidens' powers. Tell me, do you know how the Maidens' powers work outside of what they can do?"
"I know that when a Maiden passes on that the power transfers to the last young woman that is in their thoughts; Men or older women have no access to the power and if it is not passed on to a younger woman in the previous Maiden's thoughts that it essentially does a planet-wide game of darts to see who gets the power."
"I see you're well informed; that will certainly make things easier as you're already up to speed. However, that being said, this method of power transfer is a double edged sword, as if the Maiden is attacked and killed in battle there is a potential for the power to taken by the attacker, so long as they fit the criteria."
"I... I think I know where this is going."
Ozpin's gaze lowered as he continued. "Recently, Amber was... was attacked, by an unknown assailant. We don't know much about them, but we believe the attackers work for Salem in some fashion; mercenaries, vagabonds, perhaps someone within her inner circle, but we can't say for certain."
I could give you SEVERAL names as to who did this, Jacob venomously spat in his mind.
"While the efforts of one of our compatriots managed to save her from being killed then and there—" Muller's mind immediately flashed to Qrow, "—she is currently in critical condition... and part of the Fall Maiden's powers have been stolen."
"By the attacker no doubt," Jacob hissed audibly.
"We have never seen this kind of incident before, and we are not prepared for what it could entail." Ozpin stopped as they finally came to the stasis pod that housed the poor girl.
And there, sleeping in her pod, unable to fully wake, on the verge of death, was Amber.
"Amber..." Jacob whispered. He walked up to the pod, watching her steady but shallow breath rise and fall in her chest. Her vitals looked stable judging by all the readouts on the medical gear around the pod, but Jacob knew how that wouldn't matter in... however many months till the Vytal Festival. He was surprised by how beautiful she was, even with that ugly burn-scar over her left eye. He placed his hand over the glass, trying to give her a comforting hand, however futile a gesture it would be.
In his promise to save Penny and to save Pyrrha... only now did he realize a hard, hard truth.
Not everyone will make it out alive. Some people I won't have the opportunity to save.
She is condemned to death, whether by arrow or failure of body.
It wasn't right; It may be set in stone now, but it wasn't right. The show hadn't shown much of her, never let her have a moment to be seen as a person... and her death was hollow to those back home. Whereas Penny and Pyrrha were wept for by hundreds... none would weep for the Fall Maiden.
He felt a lone tear run down his cheek.
I'm so sorry, Amber.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" He heard Ozpin ask.
Jacob stifled a sniffle and replied, "I, uh, I-I'm not sure."
"She's alright for now, but I can't imagine she'll fully recover... I'm sorry."
They stood there in silence for what felt like an hour, but was only mere minutes.
"I, uh," Jacob began, "I should probably get going. There's nothing I can really do."
"I understand. But I hope you understand the crisis we are in," Ozpin replied.
"You-you keep referring to 'we', who else is part of your—or more like our—organization?"
"Well, you've already met Glynda, as she is part of the Beacon branch along with myself. The headmasters of the other Academies are also part of our force, and we each have plenty of field agents. We are not a very small group by any means, but we are small enough to be far from noticeable."
Ironwood... and that traitor Lionheart.
Jacob sighed under his breath. "Well, I guess I should get started with training, right?"
"Indeed. I heard from Ms. Rose that you were in need of a better weapon than your pistol."
"Well, she suggested I go for something along the lines of the rest of the student body's weapons. Can't fight a Grimm constantly backpedaling and shooting, right?"
"Never put all your eggs in one basket, right?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jacob chuckled as the somberness began to ease. "I-Thank you, Professor, for letting me see her."
Ozpin only smiled and nodded before taking another sip of his coffee. If that stuff is still hot, he must be making it with Vulkan He'Stan's forges as the flame for the kettle.
"Alright, well... I'll catch you later, Professor."
"Take care, Mr. Muller."
Muller began to return to the elevator as Ozpin continued to monitor Amber. Meanwhile, Muller's mind was a roaring engine, planning, preparing and fortifying itself for what was to come.
It was time to find a weapon. It was time to find HIS weapon.
Jesus Christ on A Bicycle Riding to Mass on a Sunday, this is getting tough to do this once a week! I'll keep it up as much as I can, but It can guarantee nothing.
That last little bit came as a bit of realization as I was writing out the scene, how as much as we all cry for Penny and Pyrrha and... Roman, apparently, Amber's death was no less a loss; we as the audience just didn't get a chance to see what she was like outside of the flashback in The Beginning of the End.
Next chapter, the wand shall choose the wiz-WAIT. I mean, the weapon shall choose the warrior... or something like that. Will i get something practical, something impractical, something vaguely Warhammer-esque?
The fuck if I know, I'm still trying to decide.
Anywho, review, favorite, follow, do whatever you please, and I will see you guys... in the next chapter. Buh-bye~!