"I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man's. I will not reason and compare: my business is to create."
-William Blake


RWBY:Re;bellion


PROLOGUE: Orchid


The shattered moon sat in the night sky, looming over the desolate mountains to the far north of the Kingdom of Vale. Thick mists shrouded the mountain floors, denying all the chance to see what lay at the bottom.

A young man leaned against the metal walls of the Bulkhead, arms crossed with his weapon laying at his side. He glanced at the window as the aircraft made its approach; in the distance, sequestered on one of the mountains, was a dilapidated castle, bridges connecting to smaller mountains with modern facilities attached to each one. Spotlights, barbed fences, and metal walls surrounded the area, almost as though it were a prison.

"Alright, let's go over the plan one more time." A woman's voice spoke to him via the ear cuff attached to the lobe of his right ear. "The site's a total black zone with a Faraday Cage, which means the second you get inside, we'll be in the dark on our end. As soon as you're in, you'll be on your own."

The teen chortled. "They want to make sure no one found out about this place, don't they?"

"Well, it is a prison. Our operative is located inside the facility to the right. Security is pretty tight; modified Atlesian Knights, automated turrets, and the best mercenaries money can buy. Unfortunately, we have no idea where he can be, so you'll have to sneak inside the main control room and go from there." The woman sighed. "Also, remember to be careful. Assuming the info we got from Xiong is correct, each cell has Class B Gravity-Fire Dust explosives waiting to go off in case someone tries to mount an escape attempt. If you screw this up—"

"I won't," he assured her. "If I did, he'd never let me hear the end of it, dead or no."

"Actually, I was going to say that, if you screwed up, we would be in deep shit," the woman chuckled. "That idiot's too stupid to get himself killed and you know it."

The teen smiled wryly before his expression turned serious. The Bulkhead was getting closer. He peeled away from the wall and grabbed his weapon. The bay doors began to open and the ramp slid down. Violent gusts of wind blew against him, causing his hood to pull away from his head and his jacket to flap about comically.

"Good luck," the woman on the other end said before cutting off communications.

He took a step back, then fell into a spring, jumping straight over the edge and down to the prison site below.


When the Bulkhead entered their field of vision, the mercenaries and soldiers stationed in the facility were on full alert. Warning sirens blared as they fell into a routine, taking up defensive positions along with the entrances and walls. The turrets spun around and aimed, ready to gun it down. Right as the cannons were primed, the Bulkhead unexpectedly shot first, red streaks of electricity firing from its belly. The beam of thunder streaked across the walls, creating a black scorching scar. The turrets, caught in the line of fire, exploded on contact.

A figure jumped out from the Bulkhead, descending to the prison at breakneck speed. One of the remaining turrets opened fire, firing shells in their direction.

The figure was armed; a silver lance with a long red-and-gray shaft. The lance was intricately designed; tree branches engraved onto the coating, panels segmented to allow for a quicker transformation and a thin gun barrel below the lance's pointed tip. The figure flipped around and aimed the lance behind them, using the recoil of his weapon to speed up his descent and evade oncoming fire.

Mercenaries and soldiers took up positions along the perimeter, now discerning the figure's point of descent. Some armed themselves with blades and batons while the others readied their rifles. The figure approached rapidly and spun back around, his lance changing forms. The panels separated and folded, shifting in places and gathering around the shaft. Some parts pieced themselves together, forming what looked to be a hybrid between a rifle and a glaive; the panels bent and interlocked, forming the blade while the rest coated the body like armor.

The figure landed in a crouch, one knee on the ground. In seconds, the soldiers and mercenaries were upon him. Spotlights shined down on him.

"The hell? He's a kid!" a soldier remarked upon seeing the teen fully.

It was impossible to see his face, but his body type and build suggested he was in adolescence. He wore faded jeans with two pouches strapped to his right leg, black-and-red sneakers with thick straps keeping the shoes from slipping off. An orchid-purple v-neck lay underneath a jet-black jacket with short sleeves and purple streaks along the sleeves. The hem of the jacket went up to the ribs, with an insignia reminiscent of a rose surrounded by thorny vines on the back. The lower half of his face was obscured by a black facemask, exposing only his right silver eye and his black bangs.

"Put your hands behind your head, now!" another soldier demanded.

The teen rose to his feet, his mask shifting as if to indicate he was smiling underneath it before throwing something up into the air. None of them had time to see what it was as the teen quickly raised his glaive into the air and opened fire, shooting straight at it. In the next second, the area filled with bright light.

The soldiers cried in pain and dismay, shielding their eyes. In that same span, the teen charged forward with the intent of breaking through the encirclement. Nearing the group in front of the main entrance, he dropped low and began to slide, swinging his weapon to knock the group off their feet. He leaped back onto his feet and quickly made his way inside. He closed the door shut and placed his Scroll on the electronic lock, ensuring the door would remain shut for a time.

Stepping away from the door, he turned away and began walking down the hall, keeping a firm grip on his glaive.

Okay, so if memory serves, our friend's cell is up on the second floor in the left-wing.

As he walked down the hall, the teen thought of how he wound up enacting a jailbreak of all things.

"I got this, he said. You can trust me on this, he said. Honestly, why is it that whenever I look away for a minute, he goes and does something stupid?" The teen sighed and ran a hand through his dark locks of hair. "How did he even get captured in the first place?"

He rounded around a corner and stopped. Black mechanical soldiers all aimed their weapons at him, visors glowing dark green. "INTRUDER. IDENTIFY YOURSELF."

The teen stared, narrowed his eyes, then threw his glaive. It pierced the one in the middle through the head. Its body twitched and spasmed, sparks flying out of the gouging wound in its head. The Atlesian Knights stared at their malfunctioning companion before turning back to the teen, only to find him already engaging. He jumped and grabbed the glaive by the shaft, vaulting over the group of machines and landing behind them.

He tore his weapon out from the android and jumped back, firing two bullets. The recoil knocked him further back while the bullets hit their mark, tearing through one of the Atlesian Knight's torso. It was not enough to forcibly shut it down or destroy it, however, as it quickly turned around and opened fire. He spun his glaive around, deflecting the shots while charging straight at them. Once he was within range, he twirled the glaive to point behind him and pulled the trigger. The recoil propelled him forward, allowing him to bring his lance down on his opponent. One of the androids found itself bisected, its top half falling off its torso and floundering about like a fish out of water.

The second Atlesian Knight discarded its rifle in favor of an electrified stun tonfa. It swung at his head, but he dodged and side-stepped, entering its blindspot and skewering it through the torso. With a grunt, he tore a large chunk out of its chest, following up with a swift jab through the head. The machine went slack, limping and falling deeper into his weapon before he yanked it out.

Just as the teen was about to continue on his way, a loud gunshot cracked through the air. He cried out in pain, his aura flaring up as something impacted his shoulder. He turned around to find two guards, mercenaries garbed in fatigues, vests, and bandanas, charging him. Two carried twin knives and studded knuckles respectively while the third hanged back, aiming a sleek black rifle at him. The third wore extra armor around his shoulders and knees, Dust cartridges dangling from his belt.

Figuring he must be the leader, the teen set his sights on him and twisted the shaft of his glaive. The metal blade fell apart, the plates pulling away and spinning around the tip of the shaft until it reformed into a silvery lance with tree-branch engravings and a pointed blade tip at the end. He aimed and fired a steady stream of bullets. The one wielding the twin knives took point, easily deflecting each shot while the leader of the group continued taking potshots.

"Tch!" Scowling beneath his facemask, the teen raised his lance in defense. "Knives" jumped up, leaping up to the ceiling and pouncing on him with her knives poised to carve. The lance blocked the attack and forced "Knives" back before batting away a punch from "Knuckles" with his weapon. He didn't expect them to continue with the momentum of their failed punch and go for a roundhouse that hit him square in the face. The blow was stronger than expected, his vision flickering and blurred for a few moments. Several bullets hit him, courtesy of "Leader".

He shook off the daze in time to see "Knuckles" and "Knives" coming at him from both flanks, the former leading the charge. The teen took aim and fired, the recoil forcing him back and evading a knee-strike from "Knuckles". "Knives" ran past her fellow mercenary, wall-running and going straight for him. She flipped the knives into a more traditional grip and went for his throat.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. Their eyes met.

The teen smiled and twisted the shaft of his lance counter-clockwise. "Knives'" eyes widened as the weapon changed, but not into a glaive. The shaft split in half, one transforming into the glaive, albeit shorter, while the other formed into a single-barrel rifle. The glaive knocked the knives away, giving the teen a clear shot.

He pulled the trigger. The recoil was not as strong as before, only barely knocking him back further. The woman's Aura flared and protected her, but the impact of the bullet caused her to fumble mid-air and flop on her back. The teen fell into a backward somersault, rolling back up on his feet and brandishing his weapons. The gun half rested on his shoulder while he lazily pointed the glaive at "Knuckles" and "Knives", waving it at them in challenge.

"Leader" tried to take another potshot, but the teen knocked the bullet away with a swing of his glaive. "Knuckles" lunged for him, throwing a lariat. He ducked underneath the swing and spun a full 380, shooting the mercenary woman in the back and clashing blades with "Knives". Sparks flew between them. "Knives" swung her other knife at his head, missing by a few inches as he pulled his head back and lowered into a crouch, going for a stab. "Knives" side-stepped and spun, dragging her blades with her, only for a gunshot to knock the path of her knives off-course and leave her open for a second gunshot to the head.

Her body slumped and hit the wall, sliding down to the floor in a heap. Before he could check to see if she was dead, "Knuckles" jumped and delivered an arrow kick to the chest, sending him flying. He hit the ground on his back, groaning as he got back up to his feet. "Leader" chose then to get involved personally, shooting him several times in the back before wrapping an arm around his neck and squeezing tight. Another arm snaked under his armpit and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from using his firearm. She kicked his leg, forcing him down to his knees.

"Wrong move, boy," the leading mercenary whispered in his ear. "Knuckles" approached, glaring at him while cracking her knuckles.

The teen glanced back at her. For a moment, she swore she saw something flicker in the eye hidden under his bangs. "No. This…is checkmate."

She heard something clatter to the ground. She looked down and saw a red Dust crystal lying at her feet. Her eyes widened in realization and hastily moved to get away.

The teen was faster, and with a deft flick of the hand, pulled the trigger of his weapon just as "Knuckles" lunged at him. Flames exploded beneath his feet, sending all three flying. The teen brought his Aura up to max, enduring the blast to the best of his ability. Dark-purple light flickered around him as he rose to his feet unsteadily, shaking his head and shrugging off the blast. Looking down, he found "Leader" coughing, struggling to get up.

Right as she turned to look at him, he thrust his glaive into her throat. Eyes wide, the woman gurgled and spat out globs of blood, wheezing as she tried to breathe. The teen yanked the blade out, tearing out a good portion of her neck in the process. A pool of red quickly formed under her. Before long, the life faded from her eyes.

"You bastard!" The teen managed to recombine his weapon in time to defend himself from "Knuckles", the woman throwing a heavy punch his way. Her studded knuckles scraped against the lance, shrugging and throwing her off.

The teen snorted. "You three were wholly prepared to kill me earlier, weren't you? So you have no room to complain if I do the same. The only ones who should kill…" He spun his lance around, then waved his hand at her, beckoning her to attack him. "…are those prepared to be killed."

"Knuckles" roared in fury. She charged at him, and he in turn engaged in another bout of combat. He attacked first with a low sweep, attempting to knock her off balance, only for her to jump over it. Landing behind him, she went for a roundhouse kick, managing to kick an incoming thrust out of the way. The teen fired off a shot, using the recoil to evade another kick before twirling the lance behind him and firing again, this time sending him toward the mercenary. He slammed his palm into her chest with a great deal of force, stunning her long enough for him to strike her with his lance.

An upward slash sent her into the air while a swing threw her across the hall. She skidded to a stop by grinding her heels into the floor. She looked up and saw him aiming his lance at her. Four gunshots rang out across the hall. "Knuckles" dodged two, the third hitting her knee and the fourth grazing her cheek. Growing agitated, she scooped her boss' gun up from the floor and charged him, firing a steady stream of bullets to keep him distracted.

The teen spun his lance around in a twirl, deflecting the bullets as they came. "Knuckles" swung the butt of the rifle at him fruitlessly, the latter dodging out of the way and tilting his head to avoid a headshot. She readied another shot but found the gun kicked out of her hands. Agitated, she threw a few punches, all deflected. She leaned in, going for an elbow strike, only for the main body of the lance to block it. The teen shrugged her off and spun in a perfect circle, bringing the lance around and slashing her across the chest before popping off two shots.

"Knuckles" stumbled back, her Aura fluctuating wildly. She recovered just in time to receive a roundhouse kick to the temple, followed by a series of slashes. Disoriented, she tried to fight back and feebly threw another punch, much weaker than the others.

The teen grabbed her by the wrist and aimed the barrel of his weapon at her neck. She saw the faint outline of a smile beneath his face mask.

"King takes rook."

Bang.


The teen arrived at his destination, stepping over the ruined remains of the droids he destroyed only moments earlier. He stopped just short of a cell door, staring and examining it. "No padlocks or knobs. Must be electronically locked," he noted before brandishing his weapon. He shot at the hinges, each requiring two shells each. The hints shattered into tiny bits. Swiftly, the teen stepped out of the way, avoiding being crushed by the falling metal door. It clattered to the ground with a heavy thud, causing the floor to shake for a moment.

Carefully, the teen stepped inside the cell, only to pause and stare.

"…Edan," he said slowly. "What in the hell are you doing?"

Inside the cell was a young man, early twenties at best, with messy black hair with blue streaks, eyes the color of the sky. He was nude, thankfully only from the waist up, exposing a lean athletic build with a few scars; the most prominent being the patch of scarred flesh along the left side of his waist. His khaki slacks were ruined beyond repair, and his footwear was nowhere to be seen. His trademark blue sash was also missing.

When the teen launched this mission with the intent of rescuing him, he believed Edan Azure, one of his most trusted confidants and friends, was being tortured or held in unsanitary conditions. The latter was mostly true, but even then, he was hardly as restricted as the teen expected. The only bindings he saw were the metal ball and chain strapped to his leg.

As for his bewilderment, well, the reason for that was because somehow, despite being in a prison facility run by mercenaries and criminals of all kinds, he was eating a cup of noodles.

Edan paused mid-bite, staring at the teen with wide eyes and mouth open. Ever so slowly, he closed his mouth and carefully set the cup of noodles down. "Uh… Eating?"

"I can see that," the teen groused. "I want to know how. Where could you possibly have—!" He stopped and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "You know what? Never mind, it doesn't matter." He shot the chain link connecting the shackle to the metal ball, granting his comrade freedom. "Come on and get up. We're getting out of here before—!"

"There they are! Surround them at once!"

He cursed under his breath, glaring at the approaching mercenaries and jury-rigged Atlesian Knights. Edan stepped out of his cell and looked at the oncoming hoard. "That's a lot," he noted before looking at the teen. "What the heck did you do to piss them off?" The teen glared at him. "Okay, sorry, stupid question." He stood next to the teen and began counting. "So, what's the plan here? Hold our ground and fight, or run like hell and hope to god we don't get caught?"

"Knowing my luck, you'd get captured again, and I have to come to save your ass." The teen sighed. Suddenly, he was glad he did not bring Rook with them. He would have beheaded Edan for his tomfoolery.

The black-and-blue-haired youth smiled good-naturedly at the teen. Despite the obvious barb, he could tell the teen was smiling back at him. They had each other's backs, and this would be no different. This was hardly the first time they faced such odds, though this would be the first time he had to fight in so little clothing.

Dark blue flames wrapped around his hands, his fist colliding with his palm. Beside him, the teen readied his lance. As the mercenaries and androids drew closer, some readying their weapons, Edan looked to the hooded teen next to him with a toothy grin. "Say, Rouge, how 'bout we make a bet?"

"Let me guess. Loser buys the winner dinner at the most expensive restaurant in the kingdom?" the teen scoffed. A moment later, he grinned. "I hope you have enough for all of us!"

"Wait, what do you mean by all of us?!"

Ignoring Edan's panicked cries, Rouge Rose leaped forward, weapon in hand.


Camelot Arthur

The personal weapon of Rouge Rose during his more covert activities, Camelot Arthur was personally made by Rouge during his days at Signal Academy, with help from his sister, Ruby Rose.

Camelot Arthur is a Hybrid Lance-Glaive Rifle (HLGR), and as its name implies, it is a hybrid between a rifle, glaive, and lance. It is colored primarily silver with tree-branch engravings along the main body with a red-and-gray shaft. Under the pointed tip of the lance is the gun's barrel.

Like most other weapons in the world of Remnant, Camelot Arthur's converting frame allows it to change into three different modes:
● a "lance" mode, which is somewhat heavier compared to its other two modes and has a greater emphasis on power. The metal plates are carefully aligned and interlocked at different points to help create a tougher "shell" for the weapon. The rifle is set to single-fire with a greater recoil, focusing on piercing power.
● a "glaive" mode, which has a greater emphasis on dexterity and mobility. The glaive mode, as its name implies, has the weapon take on the form of a glaive with the gun barrel between two blades. This form is Rouge's preferred form in combat as it has a slightly longer reach. The recoil is slightly weaker, but no less effective and can alternate between single-fire and rapid-fire shots.
● a "dual" mode, the lightest of the three modes, where Rouge separates the weapon into two parts; a rifle and a glaive. The glaive has a slightly shorter reach, with the gun portion now on the second half of the weapon, designed for weaker, rapid-fire shots.

Similar to Crescent Rose, Camelot Arthur's recoil is ordinarily far greater than most weapons, making it slightly more difficult to use for anyone other than Rouge. Like his sister, he uses the immense recoil to great effect, often to dodge out of the way or to close the gap between him and his opponent. Rouge's preferred tactic in its glaive and lance modes is to "stab-shot-retreat"; stab the enemy, open fire at point-blank range, and use the recoil to put some distance in case the attack fails to finish off the enemy.


Beep.