Alright, final chapter before we properly begin on the warpath, as it were...

Also, this episode does not occur during The Badge of the Burden, I just liked the title and worked off of it for the sake of the plot.

Chapter 9: The Badge, The Blade and The Burden

Failing to plan is planning to fail. —Alan Lakein

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*click*

...Listen to the wind blow, watch the sunrise~...

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...Runnin' in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies~...

...Hope the kids don't mind my Saturday alarm clock.

Jacob found—much to his surprise—that for the first time in months he wasn't immediately springing out of bed. Whereas he'd be on his feet and starting his morning ritual within two minutes of waking up, now... not so much.

No early morning work.

No early morning classes.

He had the morning to himself.

Well, this is new.

He peeked open a groggy eye to look at the clock over his new dorm's desk.

7:35. He'd slept in a little over 2 hours; he hadn't slept in like that in months.

God, sleeping in... I forgot how good it felt.

Fleetwood Mac continued his serenade from atop the nightstand next to the bed.

And if you don't love me now, then you'll never love me again~

I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain...~

Jacob waffled over staying in bed for a few more minutes.

"...Nah, I got stuff to do; might as well get started."

He crawled out of the bed with a moan as the music continued. With a yawn and the audible popping of his back he was up on his feet within the minute. Sunlight was already peeking in from behind the blinds, just at an angle that avoided scalding his retinas but was enough to tell him it was time to roll out.

In the shower he ran over his mental checklist for the day: Get new wardrobe, get weapon, figure out how the flying fuck to save Penny and Pyrrha.

That last one was gonna need some mulling over; Fortunately, he had an entire weekend to do that.

I can do this... right?

He stared at the ground as he muddled about his mind for an answer; Sure, it was possible to save her, but he had long been taught that possible means diddly-jack; Whether it was probable was the true question.

The short answer his mind gave him: About as likely as a snowy day in August.

He ran over potential avenues of attack in his head with painful levels of scrutiny. Confronting Cinder directly would do him no good, she already had at least a portion of the Fall Maiden's powers even now; going up against her at the state he was in now was likely to succeed as a lone Guardsman against Abaddon in a melee scuffle. Suicide was not even enough of a word to cover how stupid that was.

If he let them know the truth of the plan and they somehow believed him, Cinder would be forced to make another attack from another angle and potentially put the others in equal danger, not to mention that there was one other constant that he had to make certain occured:

Ruby's Silver Eyes had to awaken. It was—will be, in all reality—the only way to stop the massive Grimm dragon Cinder calls to action during Heroes and Monsters.

And they only awakened when she saw Pyrrha get struck down.

A sticky conundrum; if Pyrrha dies, the dragon gets dropped. If she doesn't die, other are in danger from the great beast.

Muller's head met the wall in exasperation. Damnit all, there's gotta be a way around this...

Quickly freshening up, Muller set about to his checklist. Alright, step 1, new wardrobe.

He left the dorms with all the quiet he could muster, walking as softly as he could to avoid waking them up in the event they were still asleep. As he hit the stairwell he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Those kids need all the sleep they can get," Jacob muttered darkly to no one in particular.

Outside the dorms he looked about the courtyard; only a handful of other students were awake, and most were busy with breakfast.

Oh, right, breakfast.

He popped by the mess hall and grabbed a quick meal-on-the-go, a basic thing of a ham slice and a hash brown patty with his mug—amazingly bereft of damage from the fight in the Emerald Forest—loaded for bear with his morning brew. Eating on the move; not an ideal breakfast, but he had a busy day ahead of him. Fortunately for him, Beacon sat on the edge of Vale, within walking distance of most everything.

As he wandered about town, he found himself drinking in the sights as he went along throughout the Commercial District. The architecture—at least in the area he was at the time—was very reminiscent of the upper-class districts in cities along the West Coast, or at least in his opinion. It certainly wasn't like home; he was used to adobe walls, flat roofs, heavy residential areas and the like; Home was kind of the smallest big city in the world... or was it the biggest little town in the world? Granted, with having a populace around 500,000 people strong, Home wasn't precisely in either territory. The streets were fairly clear of foot traffic, though that was most likely due to being an early morning on the weekend.

"God, it's beautiful here," Jacob admonished as he walked down the road. Even for a basic metropolitan city, Vale was so vibrant compared to most cities back on Earth; for once, gray and/or black wasn't the predominant color of the skyline, however short the skyline was in comparison to, say, Los Angeles."...It's a shame what's to happen here," he muttered wistfully as he remembered the Battle again.

SLAP! Get it together Muller! his inner-self admonished. It's... however many months out, there's no need to get melancholy wishy-washy just yet, if at all. All he could answer with was a sigh of begrudging acceptance.

Regardless, we still do need to have a plan of attack for when that Battle happens; We are working on being strong enough, fast enough, tough enough, but our greatest advantage is we have the knowledge of upcoming events. And knowledge is power.

In a sense, he realized, we was probably the most powerful person on the damned planet at the moment... besides perhaps Salem.

But that power needed a strong hand to wield it, and he was far from a strong individual, physically or mentally.

Speaking of Salem, what are we gonna do about her? That stopped him in his tracks.

Salem. The Lady of Grimm, or Queen of Grimm, or whatever the fuck she was. The show hadn't told anything about her outside she was voiced by Cortana's voice actor—oh the delicious Halo-based irony—and that left everyone at a disadvantage. Was she stronger than Cinder, or was she like Emperor Palpatine in that she was a master of the silver tongue? Was she a Maiden—She bore an uncanny resemblance to the first Winter Maiden—or was she something less than human?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Even with the knowledge he held at the moment, it was far from enough to make the best out of the whole situation.

But before he could let that thought bring about melancholiness again, he shook himself mentally as he realized he had no idea where to go.

And also he was using the Royal We again when he was having his conversation with himself. Bad habits die especially hard in comparison to old habits.

But in regards to the former, that was a tough question; He was used to the outlet stores and massive department stores at the local mall. Trying to find a clothing store would be a headache and a half.

"Hey, short-stuff!"

Jacob hit the brakes. That voice... he heard it before, but where...

Oh, wait a minute.

He spun on his heels, and sure enough, he was greeted with a sight he was not expecting this early into the timeline.

Walking up the path was a girl about 6 feet tall, give or take, fair skinned with short dark-brown hair nestled underneath a black beret. She wore a long, cocoa-colored shirt with a dark brown waist cincher, dark brown trousers with ribbons on the left side and a brown belt with bullets. He spotted a pair of dark brown, high-heeled leather boots with buckles, giving her some of those extra inches to match Pyrrha's height. Chocolate brown eyes hid beneath a pair of aviators while a lone wave of hair fell down from her brow, lightening into a caramel color. A black and gold-studded handbag hung by her side.

Coco Adel.

Jacob suppressed a grin of mild excitement to his best efforts, and for the most part it seemed to be working. He noticed that she was flanked by the rest of Team CFVY; Velvet Scarlatina hung close behind, almost like a little pup. She was wearing a nervous but happy smile that was downright the cutest thing Muller had seen since... well, ever really. On her left flank walked Fox, looking as cool as ever despite probably being blind, judging by his eyes. And towering above them all, closing in on Michael Jordan height, was Yatsuhashi, his massive hook-ended buster sword glinting in the morning light.

"So, you're the one Ozpin let in as a Lone Wolf? I'm not impressed," she said with a blasé attitude. Team CFVY stopped 4 feet in front of him, most of them checking him out as though they were sizing up the competition.

"Believe me, I've yet to impress myself," he replied back with a dry tone. "You must be Team CFVY. I've heard a lot of good things about you from the Professor." Flattery, huh Jacob?

The cocked eyebrow over Coco's aviators was joined by the ghost of a smile. "I'm sure you did."

Survey says: success?

"So, what are you lot doing out and about?" he asked hesitantly.

"We were actually going to ask the same thing of you," Velvet replied with her hint of an Aussie accent.

Muller bristled a little. Were they following me? What if it was under Ozpin's orders? "Mind if I ask why what I'm doing is important?"

Coco stepped forward, close enough that Jacob could smell her perfume fragrance; chocolate and coffee, no surprise there. "Ease up there, cowboy. We always go into town on weekend mornings; good way to get away from the new meat as it were... though I guess today that's not gonna be the case," she finished with a sigh on her voice.

Muller smiled sheepishly. "Eh-heh-heh, whoops," he muttered as an embarrassed blush was about to find a spot on his face to reveal itself. "Well, uhm, I wasn't expecting to meet Team CFVY on my errand-run today."

"Errands? Whatever for?" Velvet asked, joining her partner.

"Oh, uh, considering all that happened over the last few days, I kinda realized that I'm... well, kinda short on a lot of things; a decent weapon—" he showed them his pistol, still tucked into his belt in a loose pseudo-holster, "—some actual school supplies—God, I haven't had to say that in a few years—and some actual clothes." He gestured to his body, still equipped with the same bloodstained shirt—though flipped around so the bloodstains were hidden under his jacket—jeans, shoes and said jacket.

"Wait, wait, that's all you've got?" Yatsuhashi piped up.

"Yeah, Ozpin kinda recruited me on the spot while I was in the infirmary." Coupled with the fact that everything else I own is back on Terra... and why the hell did I refer to it as Terra? It's Earth, knuckle-nuts.

The look on Coco Adel's face, while perhaps concealed beneath her aviators, spoke volumes of what was going through her mind.

"You need a new wardrobe, huh?"

"...for lack of better phrase, yeah."

She gave an amused chuckle as the rest of Team CFVY gave each other smug grins. Coco grabbed Jacob by the wrist, giving him the wave to follow her. "Follow me, freshman."

Two hours later Muller found himself in a high-priced clothing store, being guided around by Coco with all the enthusiasm of a geek at a comic convention. So, basically, he was looking at a female version of himself when he was at a comic convention.

The rest of CFVY was busy browsing at their own leisure, strolling through the store without a care in the world; something told Jacob that they were used to being here.

Coco, however, was checking him up and down, no doubt getting an idea for what would work for him—however garish or elsewise it could be.

"...and you're definitely pulling off the jeans look there, buddy."

"Uhm, yeah, jeans have always been kinda my thing. Blue's kinda been my color since Day 1, and it's durable stuff."

"Though that jacket, way too thick for this climate. You are definitely not a local if you were wearing this in the tail-end of March."

"Yeah, well I come from a more arid region of the world, and around there half the time I think Mother Nature can't decide whether she wants winter to be summer or summer to be winter." That got a chuckle out of Coco.

"Sounds like a wild place to live."

"You have no idea..."

"Regardless, what got Ozpin to let you in, might I ask?" she inquired as she browsed a selection of expensive-looking jackets, everything form of high-quality leather he could recognize. Even back home where his money and bank card had some worth to them his wallet would have retreated to the nearest bunker at the sight of the price tags attached.

Jacob hesitated on his answer, uncertain of how much he should divulge to them. It was doubtful Ozpin would let them in on such an important secret, meaning he was short a legitimate excuse. "I guess he was impressed by my performance in the Initiation despite, you know, not technically being allowed in. I mean, I actually have no clue how I even got there; last thing I remember was, I think, heading to work that morning, but even then, it's a bit of a blur... But regardless, I guess how well I handled myself was worthy of his attention."

"Pfft, I'll say," Coco replied, "Professor Ozpin was saying some good stuff about you late yesterday evening; 4 Beowolves and a Deathstalker, that's not something to balk at, especially for a civie. Ooh, I think these shoes would work on you!" She pulled up a pair of black loafers, about his size.

"Oh please, no, these are some of my favorite hiking shoes; I wear them most of the time be it in urban sprawl of backwoods hiking country. Besides, I've got a stupidly-wide foot, I doubt they've got my size."

They continued back and forth, the conversation gradually getting more casual with the occasional peep out of the others from the Team. Muller found himself admiring the feistiness from the fashionista. She carried herself with a confidence he wished he had: the kind you need for leading a team.

Granted, he doubted he'd ever lead a team; he much preferred to remain in a second-in-command position.

"Well, looks like brown, blue, grey and... white are kinda your colors of choice with your outfit. Very masculine, very down-to-earth... Hmm..."

"I take it you're not used to those colors—" He bit down hard on his tongue as he realized who he was talking to. Brown was pretty much her primary color, every single shade of it included in that statement. Fortunately she wasn't paying attention at the moment.

"Here, give these a try," Coco ordered as she tossed him a set of khaki cargo pants and a navy blue jean jacket, not unlike the colors of his Aura as he recalled. They were soon joined by several other articles of clothing, the lot heaped up in his arms like a comical tower of clothes.

After a few minutes in the changing room, Jacob walked out in this new outfit, taking in his new look in the mirror; For the most part, the outfit was fairly similar to his regular back on Earth, consisting of a grey, tucked-in t-shirt and khaki pants instead of his usual denim jeans. Instead of his brown jacket he now bore the navy denim jacket, a surprisingly lightweight jacket if anything; perfect for avoiding the hassle of slow-broiling his torso. He maintained his rattlesnake-skin belt, a prized possession of his if anything, and he still wore his brown hiking shoes, since they were only a month or two old at the time. His wedged, long-tailed cross pattée—Or St. George's Cross to some—hung around his neck, the steel dinged by constant wearage; he proudly never took it off for anything, even though most of the time it was worn under his shirt.

"Looking good, newbie," Coco said smugly, obviously riding high on her inflated sense of accomplishment.

"I'll admit, I've always stuck to more neutral colors, but this is nice," Jacob said as he looked himself over in the mirror.

"Not gonna lie, I think I've outdone myself yet again. And I even nailed it on the first go again as well." She brushed her lone bang back off her forehead, the smug confidence practically radiating off her.

"Wow, so humble Ms. Adel." That got a chuckle out of the rest of team CFVY. "Now, in regards to paying off these, I'm, uh, kinda—"

Coco held up her hand in response, telling him to pump the brakes on that thought. "Please, you let me have a human mannequin for the last 2 hours, this round's on me... But just this one."

"Wait, seriously? Come on, there's gotta be some way I can—"

"Don't worry, this is actually on the more inexpensive side of the stuff they've got here. Besides, I usually only browse around here anyhow. My wardrobe's practically perfect in every way already."

I'll take your word for it, Mary Poppins, he chuckled mentally.

After rounding up the rest of her team, Coco and Jacob left with his new wardrobe in hand, 5 copies of the basics with a few other shirt colors for some variation.

Jacob was the first to reply. "Alrighty then, if it's all the same to you guys, I should probably let you guys have the rest of your weekend to yourselves. Sorry for any inconvenience. You sure there's nothing I can do for you guys?"

Coco simply gave him the assured wave, saying, "It's nothing, newbie. Just don't get your clothes bloody on the sparring platform, or the price is coming out of your hide." Another collective laugh escaped into the open air of the Commercial District.

"Well, again, thank you very much, Ms. Adel for your generosity."

Coco only replied with a giggle with the slightest hint of fluster. Velvet seemed to take notice and seemed... upset? No, dum-dum, jealous if anything. Like Coco's hers or somethi-

...Oh...

"Uh, well, anyway, we should probably get going," Velvet said as she took a light hold on Coco's arm.

"Yeah, same on my end. I still need to get my melee weapon made up here ASAP, otherwise I'm a dead man in the field. Ozpin said there's a weaponsmith in town I could talk with in regards to a weapon."

"Oh, you mean Forgemaster He'Stan?"

...Say again?

"...Sorry, what was his name?" Jacob asked Velvet, his brain attempting to register what she had just said.

"Vulkan He'Stan, he's the local weaponsmith for Beacon Huntsmen. He's the best Forgemaster in the world in our book; Gods know how many times he's helped out Yatsu here with fine-tuning his sword."

"...Right, well, do you know where his place might be?"

Coco began to give him directions to the weaponsmith's place, but he was only half-listening. In the back of his mind, he was still processing this new information. Or, rather, trying to rationalize it.

...No, no, it's just a coincidence. I mean, this is RWBY, not... that Universe.

I mean, there's gotta be more than one person with the name Vulkan He'Stan in the cosmos... right?

Twenty-two minutes later, Muller was about to find out.

He stood outside what most would say was an unusual sight in such a modern town; a stone and mortar shop in the heart of the Commercial District. It was fair-sized, no doubt to hide away the actual forgeworks in the back of the store. The roofing was reminiscent of those Jacob remembered seeing on Chinese pagodas, giving the store an overall fantasy-village type look; Not something he would expect in the middle of a city. The doorway was simple but ornate, carved from what he would guess was an elm tree with ornate decorations of fire and steel encircling the center symbol, a roaring dragon's head.

Above the entryway, the sign read in distinct letters, "Firedrake Forgeworks".

"I have a very bad feeling about this."

The moment he stepped into the building, he was greeted with a blast of warm air, increasing the sweat his body was currently letting loose. It was like stepping into an indoor desert; there was very little moisture in the air to be felt.

Despite the appearance from the outside, however, the interior was more surprising that Muller would have expected. The store's lobby was brightly lit and homely, despite being adorned with an assortment of shields, weapons, armor and trophy mounts—both of Grimm and real animals. There was a couch and table off to the side, the jungle green cushions adding to the vividness of the room. It was like stepping into the home of an accomplished hunter.

"I'll be with you in just a minute!" rang out a heavily-accented voice from behind the massive steel doors near the back of the room.

That didn't necessarily sit well with Jacob.

Instead, to cool his nerves, he focused on the armor and weapons around him, and Lord Alive there was a ton of them. Every one of them was beautifully crafted, as if a thousand hours were taken for each to make certain every aesthetic detail worked in tandem with the practical mechanics. Weapons of all kinds were on display, each one a marvel of craftsmanship. The same could be said of the armor as well, each designed with different styles and patterns; no two armor sets looked alike.

"Wow..." was all Jacob could let loose from his mouth. About that time, the massive doors creaked as someone passed through them.

"Heh heh heh, I get that a lot from new customers."

Muller turned around to meet the proprietor of the store, part of his mind already expecting the most terrifying conclusion. Surprisingly, he was only a little bit right.

The first thing Jacob noticed was how tall the man was; Thankfully, while not the 8-foot tall Space Marine the name betrayed him to be, he was still about 6'8" and was built like a linebacker, hell, probably more like a tank than anything else. Comparatively, Muller sat at 5'5", and while also being built heavily in the shoulders was far from as muscular as this man. He was clad in a green long-sleeved shirt and black canvas pants, with a leather apron protecting his torso, though it appeared to have seen better days as evidenced by the scorch marks across the treated hide. Muller also noticed he was a darker-complected individual, though he was not a comically-ashen dark like the sons of the 18th Legion, but more along the lines of Kenyan or Ethiopian tones. His eyes were also spared the 18th's nearly-demonic-looking, magma-red eyes, instead simply bearing dark red irises not unlike Emerald Sustrai.

But regardless of that, his facial features otherwise were a dead-ringer for Lord Vulkan, the Primarch of the Salamanders... at least in comparison to his Forge World model.

Muller's stomach decided then and there to do a couple of backflips to see how limber it was while still in his torso.

"Welcome to my shop," Mr. He'Stan delightedly announced, "Where only the best armor and weapons are found! Tell me, son, how can I help you today?"

"...I-uh-I'm actually h-here for... for..." Muller's old habits of speech-mazing were reawakening as he stood before the not-demigod, his mind desperately trying to make sense of it all. "*ahem*, sorry, I was actually here to look for a weapon, or to p-perhaps request one."

The Forgemaster's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Muller felt like shrinking back as he closed the distance to Jacob, his height and build inciting a desire to "meep" in terror. "Wonderful! I take it you are a Huntsman-in-training? Good man, there's never enough heroes in the world!" The slap on his shoulder felt like like getting smacked by a rhinoceros, painful and strong enough to nearly knock Jacob over.

"Well, uhm, Mr... He'Stan, right?"

"Hahah, yes, though if you asked around you'd find that my family's of the Hedgestan Clan, I just shortened it so it's roll off the tongue better. Please, please, just call me Vulkan."

"Right, well... Vulkan," Muller struggled as he came to grips with the concept he was essentially having a conversation with the closest thing to a Primarch imaginable. "I'm actually here with another message... 'The Maiden needs a soldier,' I think it was."

Vulkan recoiled in surprise; for a second Muller feared that Ozpin had led him into a trap that would claim his life prematurely.

"Ohh, I see now," the giant said in thoughtful contemplation, "You are one of Ozpin's newest protegees, am I to presume correct?"

"...Yes, sir," Jacob squeaked out in fear.

A a few seconds, a few minutes, perhaps even an eternity passed.

A boisterous and amused roar escaped Vulkan's mouth. "Hahahah, I always told Oz we needed to start recruiting earlier, and I guess he finally listened for a change! Welcome to the Inner Circle, my boy!" Jacob's tiny hands were crushed beneath Vulkan's iron grip as they shared a handshake.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Vulkan."

"So, you're in need a weapon, I am to presume?"

"Uh, yeah, In particular I was trying to think of a weapon that fits... me, you know. Something that says who I am as a fighter."

"Oh? and what kind of fighter are you?" Vulkan took a leaning pose on the back of the couch, arms crossed with his eyebrow arched in a bemused smirk.

"Well... I... I guess I've always been one for pistols and blades. I mean, last night I tested out a cutlass and it felt right in my hand, to be sure, but I know most Huntsmen weapons have multiple forms, usually one being some form of ranged weapon. And that's where I'm waffling."

Vulkan chuckled in response. "A cutlass, hmm? A weapon of daring adventurers and bold heroes. Quite the weapon for a man such as yourself."

Muller stifled his indignation. "Oh? and I suppose you have some insight?"

"A man's weapon—nay, a Huntsman's weapon—says a lot about them as a person. The same can be said in reverse; a personality and temperament can say a lot about what kind of weapon best suits you."

"And... what do you see in me?"

Vulkan stared at him long and intently, the crimson eyes in his skull boring in him to an uncomfortable degree. The warm air of the building compounded with Muller's nervous contemplation, making him feel as though he was becoming a human sauna. The two sat there for around five minutes; but while Muller couldn't tell what was going on in that steel trap of a mind, Muller's mind was zooming by at breakneck speeds. If Vulkan He'Stan—or at least a lookalike—was here, who else was here? Were there individuals of cosmic inspiration taken from other stories beyond the fairy tales of old? Was there some grizzled old Huntsman hiding out on a rocky island awaiting a brunette girl with his family's sword to teach her The Aura? Was there a man with a ricocheting shield that defended the innocent while dressed in red, white and blue? Was there a Guilliman? an Abaddon, either Chaos-based or Biblical-based? How far did this rabbit-hole go, how far did the cosmos take its inspiration, how maddening was this world of bloody evolu—

"Ferocity."

Muller was taken aback by the sudden word. "...Come again?"

"Ferocity. And cunning. And a desire to protect. A mind that is sharp as a blade to detail but blunt as a hammer to the truth. Precision is something you value, but you are not afraid to get messy. And there's an edge of determination to you; You start out slow, but you keep to it no matter what. You take big bites out of life even when you realize that a dozen steps can be more effective than a single leap, and that personal impatience angers you. You don't look for gimmicks unless it is to play your opponent's mind against them." He shifted ever so, leaning more on his left arm. "You've seen what loss can do, You have felt loss too, and you don't want to see others suffer the same way. You would fight with a zealotry found only in fanatics were you less composed, but you do not know how to wield your inner fire, though you do bear a sense of... patriotism, interestingly enough. I take it that is for your home, correct?"

Jacob sat there, staring at him, drinking in what he said... and how much he got right.

No, no, that's not all true; Me, ferocious? I mean, maybe if someone talks shit about a friend or my family, but ferocious? I doubt it...

But the rest... how the hell...

"How the hell did you do that?"

Vulkan grinned. "When you've spent your life amongst Huntsmen and soldiers, you pick up on the slightest queues in their actions, their posture, their movements; By the by, do you know you have a slight lumber to your gait?"

"I'm not surprised, I used to be fifty pounds heavier," Jacob said, being the one to grin this time. "I only just got into my optimum weight, and even then most of it's still fat."

"What fortunate timing then to join our cause!"

The two shared a hearty laugh, the ice having been well and truly broken between them. Just then, Vulkan rose from his reclined position and beckoned Jacob to follow him. "Come with me, I think I have just the weapon for you."

The two passed through the doors of the forge, and the image behind them would have made Ruby Rose do very unladylike things for being in polite company.

A massive, ornate forge held the immediate draw of attention; the blazing embers cast great golden shadows across the concrete floor and bathed the room in a warm glow. The mouth of the forge was that of a great drake, belching its flaming breath from behind iron teeth. Despite the menacing firedrake's maw, Muller found the flames entrancing, as if they were possessed of some arcane force. But even then, that wouldn't have stopped him from admonishing the plethora of weapons adorning the walls; everything from axes to mailed gauntlets to staffs to swords to spears to pretty much any kind of weapon you could think of, all neatly organized and mounted on the walls.

"Give me one second," He'Stan said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "If I recall it's here on the north wall..."

"Take all the time you need, Vulkan," was all Jacob could muster as he stared in awe of the assortment of armaments. It was practically majestic how many there were, astounding in how detailed each weapon was.

But his gaze stopped on the one full set of armor in the room.

A set that, again, had his stomach doing flips.

While it was also not an exact replica—instead being an appropriate size for a man of his stature, for starters—was design-wise a dead-ringer for the Marine Cataphractii Terminator Armor used in the Horus Heresy game. It was green and black with golden epaulettes and trims across the armor, and while it did not have the servos, motors and pipes found on actual Imperium Cataphractii Armor, it still bore the massive square pauldrons, enclosed facemask and torso, massive structure and hunched back of the Great Crusade-era war machines. Emblazoned on the torso was a golden icon bearing a more stylized version of the Salamanders chapter badge, though Muller was quick to put two and two together and realize that this was his particular insignia.

"On a side note," Vulkan mentioned from his ladder, "I noticed you don't have an emblem like most Huntsmen do; most have it on a piece of clothing of some form, though I myself have done brooches, belt buckles and a few other types. Perhaps I could whip up a quick one for you?"

Muller sat there for a second; he remembered that each member of the Academy beared an emblem of some kind to mark who they were in particular. Muller pulled out his phone, remembering that he had a particular design that he was proud of, and he thought would serve well for his badge of honour, as it were.

"Actually Vulkan," he began as he scrolled to it, "I kinda had a design in mind." Just then, Vulkan returned with a black box in hand, dusting it off with his hand. Muller showed him the image, though fortuitously Vulkan did not pay attention to the fact his phone was a far cry from a proper Scroll. Vulkan took one look at it and shared a satisfied smile with Muller.

"Now that is what I would call an emblem. But first, allow me to introduce you to something you might like."

He pulled back the cover atop the box, and Muller's eyes lit up like the night on the Fourth of July.

"By the Lord... it's beautiful."

"And I'd say it's a perfect fit for you. Careful with the edges, I sharpened them to a very fine point, though they are strong enough that they won't wear out for several years."

"Does it transform? Y' know, like other Huntsmen weapons?"

"Three forms, including a pistol form where the blade becomes a sort of bayonet."

"Wow. I... I don't know what to say, Mr. Vulkan."

"You're part of the team now, Mr. Muller. And we stick out our necks for one another." Vulkan placed a firm hand on Muller's shoulder to emphasize his point.

"...Part of the team."

"So, what are you gonna name it? After all, every good weapon needs a name."

"...You know what, I have just the name for her..."

RWBY and JNPR were currently in the process of wandering about the Academy grounds, simply taking the calm of a Saturday midday to relax and forget about the worries of the week, even for a few minutes. Though they found they were down one very odd man in their newly-forming posse.

Ruby herself had been hoping to join Jacob on his errand run; sadly, by the time she was awake, he had snuck past their dorms and was already in town.

Sneaky, sneaky one that Jacob, the little Rose thought to herself as she stuck close to her sister's side; as much as she was beginning to leave her comfort zone in regards to making friends here, she still felt safer around Yang.

"Wonder how long it'll take him," Yang said with a bored sigh.

"It'll take however long it takes him he's trying to get a weapon for himself," Weiss replied, more than a little miffed that they were talking about Jacob again. Ruby did, however, notice that there was less contempt in Weiss' voice in regards to Jacob than, say, yesterday.

Ruby looked up at the clocktower: 12:55. It was well past high noon, and half of the crew were antsy to see his new weapon.

"I'm hoping he reconsiders the hammer," Nora said as she skipped along, "then we can both be Hammer Buddies! Smack all the Grimm to death with a mighty swing of justice! Muahahahah!" She had struck a comically-villainous pose as to punctuate her escapade.

"Nora, he'll take whatever weapon he feels most comfortable with; Heck, I wouldn't blame him if he just stuck to fighting from range," Jaune responded to her comically-manic laugh.

"Oh, and who says I'm sticking to fighting at a coward's range?"

They all turned around to find Jacob standing about 15 feet behind them, proudly standing as if to say, "Hey there, you didn't notice me sneaking up on you" to the lot of them. ALongside some new threads he was also sporting some nice aviators to go along with them.

"Hey, there's the man of the hour! Nice new threads," Yang replied in earnest. "Who'd you kill to get them?"

"The only thing I think I killed was some of the money in Ms. Coco Adel's pocketbook; she offered me some new threads in exchange for letting me be her human mannequin for two whole hours."

"Nice tradeoff if you ask me."

Muller shrugged. "I'm known for some of my bartering skills. Besides that, I offered that if she ever needs anything to just give me a holler; a Muller does not leave a debt unpaid."

Weiss only huffed in response while the rest of the teams immediately were drawn to his new circular belt buckle. It was silver and a grey-blue, the metal purposefully dinged to remove any blinding levels of shine from appeared to have on it a heavily-stylized two-headed eagle, its silver wings spread proudly along a straight edge, though its tail was replaced with a lightning bolt instead. Behind it, a blue-grey five-pointed star outlined the buckle.

Yang let out a low, impressed whistle. "Nice buckle. Where'd you get it?"

"Same place as this bad mamma-jamma; Forgemaster He'Stan."

"Ooh, you met Vulkan!?" Ruby said with a sudden burst of excitement. "Uncle Qrow and I met him a few times before; he helped with teaching me how to actually make a weapon!"

"Uh, Ruby..." Jaune only had to say that much before their eyes were drawn to what else was on his hip.

A black-steel scabbard hung from the right side of his waist, simplistic in its design but their focus was more on what was inside. A leather grip peeked out from behind Jacob's hand, hinting at the weapon beneath. Ruby was practically begging to see the weapon now.

"Well, you all might want to take a few steps back..."

Jacob assumed a posture not unlike the start of an iaijutsu practitioner, his right hand holding the scabbard while his left hand held the grip of the blade. Strangely, Blake seemed to stiffen up the moment he assumed this position.

"So, this beastie comes in 3 forms; first is the cutlass mode," He said as he drew the blade out into the sun in a wobbly left swing; it was a very wide-profiled hanger sword, the strong edge straight as an arrow, meeting the tapering sharpened edge without so much as ever bending to meet it. The handguard was blocky but strong-looking, not intending to impede his dexterity The grip was small enough for Muller's hand to hold it, and he held it as though it weighed nothing in his hand; a good sign if ever there was one.

"Second," he continued, "is the pistol mode." His thumb pressed one of two vertically-aligned buttons on the handguard; soon the pieces were shifting, though nowhere near as intricately as Crescent Rose. Soon, he was holding a skinny-barreled pistol, the end of the cutlass form creating a close-held bayonet on the underbarrel of the gun. He struck a pose with it, like a desperado in those old Vacuan westerns Taiyang watched on occasion. He spun it casually in his hand, careful as to avoid shooting himself in the face, even though Ruby could tell it was unloaded.

"But the third form," he said with a cheeky grin, "is gonna be the most fun one to use."

He transformed it back into the cutlass before putting it back into the scabbard. Just then, he pressed the second button on the handguard. RWBY and JNPR suddenly heard the sound of what sounded like... blades popping out.

All but Weiss were working on some form of smile; Jaune's was nervous, Yang and Nora's were grins like madmen—or rather madwomen—Ren, Pyrrha and Blake's were bemused and calm. Ruby herself could feel some kind of cool reveal coming up, and with it the anticipating smile crawling onto her face.

Muller smiled from behind his aviators. Muller began to pull out the blade, but they immediately noticed he was pulling with a lot more force than before, as if he was anticipating something had snagged.

That's when Ruby saw that the grip wasn't all leather—there was a large trigger that his primary fingers were sitting on.

And then she saw a metal tooth where the blade had been smooth mere moments earlier.

...Oh gods...

Her grin couldn't have been bigger.

Muller yanked hard as he gunned the trigger.

The sound of a roaring engine, a lion in the middle of the campus.

A small flurry of dramatic sparks.

And where a cutlass had been, now a chainsaw-sword—a chainsword—was sitting in Jacob's hand.

He swung with it, thrusting it high above him as if a challenge to the gods themselves. The engine's roar mellowed out as he eased on the trigger.

"A motherfucking chainsword."

Jacob let the sentence hang in the air for a few seconds before returning it to its cutlass form and resheathing it. RWBY sans Weiss and JNPR sans Jaune were immediately on him, asking him all kinds of questions about it.

"That is awesome!" Yang cheered.

"Sooo much better than a simple pistol!" Nora joined in.

"A bit... dramatic for my taste, but I can appreciate the craftsmanship," Pyrrha replied, giggling with merriment. "I wouldn't expect any less from Mr. He'Stan, or you, Mr. Muller."

Ruby suddenly noticed that Jaune was hanging back, looking forlornly at Crocea Mors, while Weiss was looking at Jacob with a hint of disgust.

"How barbaric," Ruby heard her partner mutter to herself. Ruby's heart sank a little bit.

"So, what are you gonna name your cool new chainsaw-sword?" Nora asked with baited breath.

Muller paused for a few seconds before a genuine smile enveloped his face. Ruby could feel it was a good name, whatever it was.

"...I think I'll call her... Cadia."

AAARGH, this chapter was a BITCH TO WRITE, I swear I'm only getting longer with each chapter! (7600 WORDS, HELP ME GOD ALMIGHTY.)

Okay, so let's get some things out of the way:

2. Yes, I did a chainsword named Cadia. It's ultimate fate maybe a bit telegraphed for those of you who've read the more recent 40K literature.

3. Cadia's pistol form is supposed to resemble a Tempestus Scion Hellpistol when it is one of the ones with a chainsword bayonet. The cutlass form is supposed to resemble a Munitorum-Pattern Power Sword (Commissar's sword), and the chainsword form is a basic Munitorum-pattern Guardsman chainsword (also the chainsword teeth are supposed to be hidden beneath the cutlass blade in the blueprints in my mind's eye; the blade opens up and out pop the teeth.)

Review, fav, follow, all that good stuff, and I will see you all, in the next chapter... buh-bye~!