Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue, nor do I own RWBY. I'm never using Google Drive again. Why? I hate retyping my work out. How the hell did the entirety of this chapter just disappear in the middle of fucking typing? I didn't even do anything out of the ordinary. Fucking bullshit. I'm starting to remember why I hate it and didn't want to use it now.

Chapter 4

"This cannot get any worse," Grif stated, slamming his locker close.

Last night had been rough for him and Simmons. Lopez had retired from the ballroom and searched for some other place to shut down in, given his status as a robot, which left the two Reds at the mercy of Donut. His talk of lavender chamomile body lotion and paisley thongs tortured them greatly on a mental (and masculine) level, and they only managed to get away when they said they were going to the restroom. Instead, they went and hid in the janitor's closet their robot had situated himself in.

It had been a rough sleep with backaches and neck cramps and coming out smelling like bleach and dirty water, but compared to having to endure a session of interior designing and decorating, it was completely worth it.

"Uh-huh," Simmons nodded distantly and continued pressing on the doohickey that is in his hands, having already finished changing into his everyday clothes.

"I mean, why is Donut here? He didn't even give a text or a call saying he's gonna go to Beacon Academy! I mean, Mistral has that daily wine and cheese hour that he's so fond of, and almost every skin care products he had talked all about! That should mean he would go to Haven Academy!"

"Mhmm," again, Simmons nodded dully.

"And don't get me started on the reality TV shows there! He absolutely loved those more than the other kingdoms! And let's not forget about all the latest scandals and celebrity news... Urgh! I don't care about Pyrrha Nikos and how she might actually be seeing some secret lover!" Grif yelled out his discontent.

"You got that right," the glasses-wearing Red affirmed without thought.

"That can only mean-" Grif paused in thought and came to a startling realization, "Sarge rang him in and told him to come here without telling us. That can only be it!"

Simmons sighed and looked away from the phone-like device, "So Donut came here because Sarge ordered him to come here. From Mistral, where the beauty products, reality TV shows, and latest celebrity news and scandals are top notch, to Vale, where the beauty products, reality TV shows, and latest celebrity news and scandals are top notch. Whoop-de-fucking-do."

"What I'm trying to say is, he could have given us a call," Grif scratched his head, "I would have been more prepared for the whole onslaught of Donutitis."

"Grif. You already know that would not happen. We're never prepared for Donut," Simmons stated with finality.

For all that it was worth, Grif admitted that Simmons had a point. Releasing an explosive sigh in resignation for the days to come, Grif slammed his back to his locker and stared at... whatever the hell Simmons was doing. "You've been on that thing since this morning. What is it anyways?"

To his credit, Grif actually managed to sound interested.

"This, my technologically subpar friend, is a prototype of the thing that would soon be called the Scroll," Simmons held out the slightly bulky device for Grif to see in its glory. In appearance, it looks just like your run-on-the-mill scroll, but the main difference is obviously its design. It was not paper thin, appearing to be as thick as an ordinary mousepad. "For now, I'll call it ProScroll. This little guy is rather particular, in that it's actually still in a developmental stage and hasn't been fully integrated into the CCTS. It's so heavily encrypted that it makes old Madonna music videos look like cute animal videos."

"You just called me dumb, didn't you?" Grif stared at the letters and numbers that were falling down on the screen in some kind of Matrix-like manner.

Simmons snorted, "Anyways, I've been trying to get his thing to do what I want it to do, but it needed reconfiguration on the algorithm it's following. It hadn't been easy, but I finally finished it."

"And that would be..."

"I just finished upgrading it to Windows 10."

"How typical."

"In whatever case, now I've gotta change the IP address, set up some decent firewalls, and figure out an alternating pattern to follow by before actually 'browsing' through the Valean interwebs. Encryption can only protect me so much, and I'm not sure how the headmaster will react when he sees me checking out the protection this school has on its system without asking for permission-"

"Uh-huh," this time, it was Grif's turn to nod dully. He had not understood 98% of what Simmons just said. Or even if whatever he said is even legit.

"-given that we're in a hunter school, which is typically really secure, it should be hard… oh wow," Simmons sighed forlornly, "It's way too easy to bypass security! Ozpin seriously needs to step up his A-game! I can already spot nine ways to shut down the entire school system with one virus attack. If you're gonna run a school, at least know how to run its sys- oh, hey. Some response came. This might be a challenge... let's try this, then. Place this here, stop that one over there…" The smartest of the Reds began to mutter some kind of computer lingo Grif sure as hell didn't understand.

"Alright, fill me in. What are you doing, Simmons?"

"I'm hacking into the school database. Perhaps even the Valean Council and community database while I'm at it," Simmons stated casually, as if he had not just admitted to doing something that's pretty fucking illegal.

"..." Grif remained silent, then, "Wow. You work fast, Simmons."

Immediately, Simmons felt something was up. Clearing up the last of the response, he frowned at Grif, "Alright, what are you up to, Grif? You don't compliment unless it involves someone acting like a lazyass. Case in point, you."

"Oh, not much. Just that... you change my gradebook."

"I'm not changing your damn grades, Grif."

"Oh, come on! I already know this place is just gonna be like Valhalla Academy! All the time for boring stuff and little time for the cool shit like weapon engineering and designing!"

Simmons stared at Grif blankly, "Your first design was a hunk of sharpened steel slapped to a cheap wooden shaft with duct tape and superglue. It lasted two strikes."

"Like I said, cool shit."

"It fell on you and now you have my arm, you fucktard."

"Cool. Shit."

"And I had to get most of my damn organs replaced with cybernetic parts just so YOU can have them all! Now you've already ruined my lungs and I'm periodically printing paper out of my ass!"

"Hey, I'm using your cerebral cortex here. That was partly your fault, too."

"Uh, 'scuse me?"

The two Reds turned to the person who had the gall to interrupt them. He has slightly unkempt blond hair swept to the side and blue eyes, with a lanky figure that's barely passable in terms of fitness. And he is dressed in probably one of the most comfortable, swanky-looking onesie the two of them had ever seen. Donut would have approved in terms of comfort. Not so much in fashion.

"You're kinda in front of my locker."

"Ah, sorry 'bout that," Simmons shut his locker close and fixed his tie, moving out of the way. The blond nodded his thanks and opened the locker right in the middle of the two.

"By the way, name's Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it," he introduced himself confidently.

"I think that's something you should be saying to girls. Some guys could get the wrong message," Grif replied.

"Especially one in particular," Simmons shuddered along with his partner, images of Donut in tight fitting clothes in some stupid sexy pose passing through their mind.

"Really? I didn't think about that," Jaune admitted, storing his onesie into the locker and taking out a black hoodie, blue pants, and an armor set consisting of a white chest plate, pauldrons, and elbow guards.

"Either ways, name's Richard Simmons, but you can call me Simmons," Simmons introduced himself.

"Don't listen to him. His name's actually Dick," Grif pushed his fellow Red away who grunted in indignation, "I'm Dexter Grif, and I think this is the beginning of a singularly beneficial relationship where I get away with stuff and you take all the blame."

"I'm not sure I want to have that kind of bond," Jaune replied, "But nice to meet you, Simmons and Dexter."

"Grif. Call me Grif. Dexter makes me sound like some serial killer in hiding."

"If you say so, Grif," Jaune tossed on his black hoodie over him, "So what do you guys think will happen today? I heard the rumors that Initiation has been delayed because of that scuffle yesterday."

Grif and Simmons exchanged looks. It appears the news of who the culprits of yesterday's impromptu war are hasn't spread yet. "No clue. Maybe they'll tell us when we meet up after breakfast. Who's the one spreading the news, anyways?"

Jaune shrugged, strapping his chestpiece onto himself, "I dunno her name, but I heard it from this girl last night who had this sleeping bag with frills and doilies for days."

"Did this-" Grif coughed with an exaggerated 'harrumph', knowing an opportunistic prank when he sees one, "-girl say anything else?"

Simmons got the message and kept his mouth shut. Jaune did not seem to catch onto the tone. "She was also complaining about how two other guys never showed up," Jaune continued, unaware of Grif and Simmons looking at each other. "And she kept going on about this new brand of humidifier that's supposed to guarantee a good night sleep and a room full of freshly-scented apple and apricot. I kinda zoned out after that."

'Donut,' they confirmed to each other through eyesight.

"I can introduce you to her if you like. She's passing by right now," he gestured to a blonde girl that was passing by fingering the ends of her hair alongside another blonde girl with loose and messy long hair, "Hey-"

"NO!" Simmons and Grif immediately dogpiled onto the unsuspecting blond, stopping him from calling out to their bane, "You do not know the horror you almost unleashed on us, you fool!"

"W-Whuh?" Jaune groggily replied.

"If you had called out to Donut, we would have been swarmed with his morning woes, and I'm telling you, I do not look forward to that at all," Grif followed up.

"Wait, her name's Donut? What kind of name is Donut?"

"That's not important. I can still remember how many split ends I was practically forced to look at that fateful day eight years ago," Simmons bemoaned.

"It's not something us guys could endure even if we could." Grif affirmed.

"Y-you're certain about that?"

"You bet your damn 100% cotton onesie we are!"

"Oh, it's made of flannel," Jaune corrected, dusting himself as he got up. These guys are strange, but at least they didn't make fun of him for his pajama's like the other guys last night. That has to count for something, right? "Well then, I guess I'll go find Ruby. She might not have heard this yet. Or go hang out with Snow Angel. See you guys!"

"Yeah, don't get eaten out there, Arc," Grif waved the blond goodbye, pulling out a cigarette to smoke, "He seems like a nice guy. How much cash do you think he has on him?"

"From the way I see it, he's gonna get himself into deep shit if he doesn't find himself a good partner. And put that away, Grif. No smoking on the premise."

"Man, you're such a hardass," Grif lit it anyways and took a drag.

"…Goodwitch is going to have a fit, I can tell already," Simmons silently mourned the corruption of his lungs.

Church felt paranoid.

It had been a good night well spent, with him falling asleep without Tucker or Caboose (especially Caboose) bothering him much, waking up fully refreshed without anyone actually waking him up, and

And nothing bad has happened thus far.

That is all the reasons he need to feel what he is feeling right now.

Stuff always happen when things are peaceful.

"Lighten up, Church," Tucker assured him, holding his dreadlocks up to tie them into a ponytail. "I'm sure we're allowed at least one off-time in a moment of peace. It's not like the world is out to get us or something." The aqua-clothed teen felt an existential sense of irony from that statement, but ignored it.

"It's just that I'm worried man. The last time something like this happened, Caboose somehow got himself cholera," Church replied. At the mention of his name, Caboose turned to look at the two other Blues, bright eyes hidden underneath the blond jungle of hair. "We got quarantined and I was the only one who could hold his hands while he cried himself to sleep every night as the doctors gave shots up his ass. That's not a sight I want to see ever again."

"I'm gonna take a vitamin," Caboose immediately stated, rummaging into his locker in search of his life savior.

"What I'm trying to say is, you need to loosen up, man. Like, just yell at us like you always do. That always seems to cheer you up."

"Hey, watch it man," Church lightly punched Tucker's shoulder, "Keep cheering me up like that, and I might just start thinking we're best friends."

"Whatever. At least you're not acting all sore like I was after I crashed a bachelorette party back in Chorus County."

"You? At a bachelorette party?" Church snorted, "You expect me to believe you slept with an entire bachelorette party?

"I want you to, but really, the groom showed up and cracked three of my ribs," Tucker easily admitted to his farce, checking his alien artifact for any nicks.

"That's more like it," the fohawked teen closed his locker and straightened the weapon on his back, "Anyways, what do you think we're gonna do today? No one seems to know we're part of the reason why Initiation might not be today yet, and I ain't exactly fond of waiting for stuff to jump out at me."

"Ooh, ooh! Maybe they'll have us make lunchboxes! Ooh, I wish I knew how to set up a plastic container!" Caboose shook his hands in excitement, long-sleeve shirt waving around erratically. Freckles shook along, slung over Caboose's shoulders like a bag.

"For all we know, we might actually have to do that," Church replied, much to Caboose's further glee, "We're not just gonna sit around and wait. Things don't happen like that. Probably some kind of frosh orientation or some kind of battle royale." He rolled his shoulders and walked towards the cafeteria, Tucker and Caboose following after him out of muscle memory.

"This is a school that is training pubescent, hormonal teenagers who are still trying to adjust to the new sensations and feelings in their body to become murderous combatants," Tucker gave his insight on the issue, "I don't see how it won't be some kind of battle royale."

"...God fuckin' damnit, Tucker. You just had to say those words, huh?"

"It was gonna happen without me saying anything."

(moments earlier)

"What?!"

Yang cringed at the high-pitched cry her little sister made. At least she didn't burst into tears this time. "Yeah, news was coming around saying that we might not have Initiation today. Instead, we'll be doing something else that has to do with socializing."

Ruby groaned as she weakly pounded her locker. Why? What has she done to deserve this fate? Was it because of all the cookies she ate from the cookie jar years ago and said it was Zwei's fault? Was it because she 'borrowed' some material from Uncle Qrow's stash when she was designing Crescent Rose without asking him? Or most importantly, was this Yang's fault?

"Aw, cheer up, sis. That only means you finally have the chance to make yourself more friends than enemies," Yang attempted to cheer her little sister up, to no avail.

"But that means awkward small talks and "getting-to-know-you" stuffs, Yang! I don't want to do any of that, and if I do, I don't want to look stupid, help me!"

The blonde softly combed her hair with her hands, "You need to start with common ground, Ruby. Here, just follow my lead," she turned to the effeminate boy beside her, "Yo, Donut, how's the search for split ends?"

"Just terrible," Donut frowned at the mirror, inspecting his hair. "I've found enough split ends, and now I'm starting to think my conditioner isn't doing what it's supposed to be doing. I think I'm gonna have to ask for a refund. This is just an outrage!"

"Oh, join the club, buddy," Yang gave an exhausted groan at the mention of hair products, "One time, at Dust and Body Works, their conditioner didn't give the 'oomph' and 'swish' I was looking for and instead, made my hair stiff and smelling so unladylike. Dad and Ruby almost had to restrain me when I tried to get back at them for ruining my hair."

"The horror!" Donut gasped, "I can't imagine what it's like to have such stiff hair-"

At that point, Ruby realized that this wasn't a lesson anymore and more Yang forgetting about her and doing Yang stuff instead. Why the fuss about hair? It's best when kept short, anyways. It's very easy to maintain and it doesn't get stuck to her comb whenever she styles it.

Doesn't mean she's gonna diss Yang's hair in front of her. She's not that dumb.

Silver eyes wandered over to the mystery suitcase Donut had left out his locker. Oh, it's such a beauty. There are crevices and seams that can only mean openings that would shift into something else. And let's not forget the spout attached at the corner. Ruby distinctly remembered that particular part being on a flamethrower on the recent Weapons Magazine release. Not that hard to forget when it's right inside the infamous 'Gulchian weapon collection' category. Plus, it's big. Big enough to for her to squeeze inside! That can only mean it's really awesome, right?! Not as awesome as Crescent Rose, of course, but still!

"Anyways, let's just get breakfast and think about this later. If we're gonna have to fight our way out of this place, then it pays to be prepared when things go wrong, right?" she heard an approaching group with the guy in front, who was wearing a leather jacket over a tank top, talking to two other boys.

She shook her head and turned towards the weapons that were walking past. The blond boy with messy hair's weapon is really classical; an Atlesian assault rifle hanging on his back that doesn't seem to be worse for wear, as if it had recently been crafted or perfectly maintained. The dark-skinned boy in aqua blue… turquoise… sea-foam green dress shirt (ahh whatever) with dreadlock ponytail had knives strapped in places around him and some kind of handlebar magnetically attached to the side of his right leg. Two Huntsmen-in-training that prefer the classics right next to each other… she can respect that.

The leading guy of that group was the only one with a mecha-shift… a mecha-shift weapon that looks very familiar.

Then it hit her. Ruby Rose, meet tunnel vision, your situational best friend.

"Is that an Anti-Materiel Lancer Rifle?!"

Church felt kind of surprised and creeped out about the little girl that appeared out of nowhere right to the front of him, eyes gleaming and walking around him like he's an interesting specimen. Mind you, he doesn't mind being gawked at from a distance by girls in general, but doing up close is a rather new experience for him.

And she's cute. The small kind of cute. The kind of cute that makes you wanna buy her a pony and saddle her up.

"Uhh… can I help you, little Red?" he decided that he can't avoid talking to her.

"That! Is that an Anti-Materiel Lancer Rifle!?" again, Little Red questioned him, pointing at the sniper rifle on his back.

"I'm surprised there's someone who knows weapons just as much as Tex, Carolina, and Wash," Tucker remarked, eyes scanning out for chicks. Little Red here doesn't count as one. He has standards, after all.

"She… she is so small…" Caboose commented meekly.

Church decided to respond to her, "Yep. What's it to you?"

"I heard that only the elite of the elite of both Gulchian Military and Huntsmen could use such an awesome weapon without any complications," the little girl rattled out in a single breath, walking around the coat-clad Gulchian. Good God, they could even smell the passion in her voice… no wait, it's just the rose petals. Where did they even come from? "That must mean you're really good at using your spear, right?"

"Oh, he's good at 'using his spear', alright," Tucker chuckled. She did not react as intended.

"Ooh, I wanna see it now! Can I? Please? Show me yours, I'll show you mine!" she chattered excitedly.

"Uhh, sure," Church ignored Tucker's obligatory 'Bow-chicka-bow-wow' in the background to focus on his weapon, taking it off his back and handing it the girl who squealed at the size of his weapon.

"Oof!" she almost keeled over from the sheer weight, and once she was used to it, her eyes sparkled, "Whoa! I never thought I would actually hold an AMLR model so early. Just look at the specs on this baby," eyes hovered hungrily over every part the weapon had to offer, "The chamber is chambered to fire single shots before it has to be reloaded manually... and it fires 20×102mm lightning Dust ammunition! The recoil must be really killer! Ooh, I don't think I could handle that at all, and I'm only using .50 BMG's for Crescent Rose..." she bemoaned, turning the beautiful piece of work to inspect it further. She did not notice the amount of surprise the three... two guys were giving her. Caboose was just staring at the girl, noticing something else about her.

"Okay, wow. I hope Tex doesn't hear this, but you are so much better than her at weapon appraisal. And that is saying something." Church praised her rather shamelessly. That slapped the funk out of Little Red Riding Hood, who reverted into the meek little girl she appears as.

"Hehehe~" she giggled shyly, preening at the compliment, "It's a hobby. I just really, really like weapons. It's like meeting new people, except better."

"No kidding? I noticed when you practically started drooling over my weapon. Church, by the way," Church said rather sarcastically and introduced himself. She made a weird expression at his statement. "It's common courtesy to introduce yourself before anything else, Red. Or do you want to be known as Red Riding Hood for the rest of the school year?"

"Oh!" she realized and straightened up, "R-Ruby Rose... nice to meet you." She slightly hesitated, then, "So, what kind of name is Church?"

"Blame my dad. I didn't choose it," Church retorted, which Ruby giggled at.

"Tucker, at your service," Tucker immediately pushed Church away to introduce himself, "And I have to say, you are definitely one of the many reasons this school will be fun. Mostly because Tex will not like you for being better than her at something."

"Yeah, no kidding," Church confirmed, giving his friend a good glare for the unsanctioned push.

"Err… thank you?" Ruby replied uncertainly. Hopefully, she'll never have to meet this Tex person. Weiss already didn't like her very much, she doesn't want another negative friend.

"I'm Caboose," the last of the trio finally spoke up brightly. He didn't say any more, which slightly confused (and surprised) the other two.

"Hello, Caboose!"

…

…

…

…

Ah, there was that painful awkward silence. Rubby appears to be looking for something to talk about, and her eyes landed on the awesome weapon in her hands once more.

"SO!" she made an exaggerated cough, "What's your weapon's name?"

"Huh?" Church replied eloquently.

"Your weapon! This!" She shook the lancer rifle at his face. He secretly feared for its life. "What's its name?"

Now that's a good question... not really. "It doesn't have a name. I just call it Sniper Rifle."

"WHAT?!" she screamed an octave higher than the boys are used to, "The weapon is every Huntsmen's pride and treasure! It is an extension of our own body! It-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to stop you right there, Red," Church held a hand up. Ruby looked miffed that her rant was stopped prematurely, "As much as I would love to hear what you want to say, I don't think it will be very responsible. At the rate you were going, we would be stuck into the afternoon with you mooning over your gardening tool."

"Crescent Rose is not a gardening tool!" she defended her baby, but conceded his point, "This isn't over, Church... I will make certain you give your weapon a name that will kick butt, and there's nothing you can do about it!" She returned the AMLR with delicate care and zipped away, leaving a trail of rose buds. She then promptly returned, "And good day to you three! I hope you make it in!" …and zipped away again.

"…Well. That happened. I think I might like her."

Caboose gasped in sudden horror, "Are you going to replace me with her, Church?"

"Why the hell would I want to replace you? I need my daily dose of anger stemming from levels of inadequacy I will never admit I have, and all of it comes from you."

"Oh, okay~!"

"Yeah, he's inadequate, alright, if you know what I mean."

"Shut the fuck up, Tucker."

"Stop making it so easy then."

"And that's why those assholes are my assholes," Tex finished.

The school janitor finished sweeping the floor, checking for any stray debris that may have eluded his sights, "I'm sure they're aware of that. What I do want to know is why you're here, Tex. You never liked going to school."

The redhead shrugged, "A way to pass the time, something to calm my nerves, I don't have anything to do, I need to look after the dumbasses to make sure they don't do anything stupid, take your pick. But honestly, you of all people should already know why I'm here."

Wash frowned underneath his tinted shades, "It's Gulch, isn't it?" He didn't need her to say anything to confirm anything, "And Ozpin has almost every information you need."

Tex nodded affirmatively, "I don't like any of this. Ozpin may be wise, but even wisdom can be outmaneuvered by careful planning."

Wash remained silent as Tex launched into her tirade. He had learned from years of experience fighting alongside and against her that she isn't the friendliest person to get along with, but you can be sure that she will back you up if you need it, and when she backs you up, she backs up hard.

She isn't one of Gulch's single-digit soldiers for nothing, after all… well, former, at least.

"I'll keep a lookout and give you some updates when I get them," Wash ended her ranting before it got out of hand. She grunted in the affirmative, which is just Tex-an for 'thanks', "In the meantime, have fun being a student. I bet you could recruit some students here to form a union under the guise of a club."

She snorted, "As a matter of fact, I've already started. You heard of Pyrrha Nikos?"

"The young Mistrallian champion?" Wash rose a brow in intrigue, "That's some firepower you picked up. How'd you manage to get her so fast? Rather, why's a cereal box girl here?"

"Eh. Coincidence. Don't know, but really convenient," Tex dusted herself and approached the entrance of the auditorium, "Things are about to take a turn, Wash. Control's planning something. Church and the others may not be aware of this, but they'll need to be prepared when it finally comes. I need to be alert. You should as well."

Wash lightly chuckled, "Does that mean you've forgiven me for-?"

"Hell no," Tex grinned ferociously, revealing serrated, shark-like teeth. "I still need to deck you properly for shooting me in the leg, asshole. Don't tell me you thought I'd forget?"

He fixed his shades into place, smiling underneath his balaclava, "I wouldn't dream of it, Allison." Unspoken was, 'You always did take grudges seriously.'

Every student made their way into the auditorium, talking amongst themselves about the upcoming school year. Some remained taciturn and secluded, others acted rambunctiously and excitedly, few were nervous beyond measures, and then there are those who are just happy to be wherever they happen to be. An example of that happens to be the resident pinky (and slightly dumb) boy. Another is the blond from the Blue Army, but we'll get to that later.

"There you guys are!" Simmons and Grif stiffened at Donut's voice, "Where were you guys last night?! I stayed up all night going over our itinerary, and fell asleep without my two favorite guyfriends cuddling up!"

"Well, sorry, princess," the latter snarked, "We just thought that you needed space to wax your legs. You know how embarrassing it is for us to just watch you."

"Silly Grif! If you wanted, I would have done your legs too! I know just the perfect remedy for-"

"I was fucking joking, Donut. I don't want my legs waxed."

Simmons chose that time to interject, "Actually, studies show that removal of hair from the legs boosts performance and comfort purposes for athletes all around."

Grif scoffed, "And you wonder why girls don't pay attention to you."

Simmons suddenly became very conscious of the attention girls were suddenly giving him, "S-shut up, Grif! Why d-did you h-have to mention g-g-g-girls!? Y-you know I-I-I'm conscious a-around them!"

"Case in point. I make girls look at you to make you shut up, and I get some peace of mind. The system works."

[El sistema no funciona de esa manera. Sólo funciona cuando Sarge está presente y se dispara al menos 4 veces. / The system doesn't work like that. It only works when Sarge is present and shoots you at least 4 times.] Lopez sarcastically corrected the bulky Red.

"You tell him, Lopez!" Donut mistranslated Lopez, as per usual, "Grif should definitely ask Sarge to come to me for a leg wax!"

[¿Por qué te molestas responder si no me entiende? / Why do you bother replying if you don't understand me?] the hidden robot asked with as much irritation his voice module can muster.

The effeminate boy tapped Lopez's head, catching sight of the headmaster stepping up the podium, "Shh, Lopez! We can talk about your molesting tendencies later!"

[Yo le matare en su sueño. / I will kill you in your sleep.]

The wizardly man stood at the microphone, gazing studiously at the crowd of aspiring Huntsmen and Huntresses, a jaded expression only briefly touching his features before he cleared his throat for the opening speech.

"I'll try to keep this brief," Ozpin began, sliding his crooked glasses back up. The entirety of the room fell silent at his words. "Today, you come in, prepared to take the next step in your lives. Whether it is to prove your worth to the world at large, to hone your craft and acquire new skill sets," his eyes gazed over the audience, noting the nervousness of some of the whispering, aspiring students, "to achieve a personal goal that will become a public statement without a doubt," he gazed at certain special students, "or most primarily, to become a Huntsmen or Huntress…"

He paused to sip from his mug, ruining the bleak and cryptic atmosphere he had been setting up.

"Know this, and engrave it into your mind: Your peaceful life is over."

If it had been silent before, it is now completely muted.

"Beacon Academy is not the end of your journey. It is merely the beginning of a new, arduous, and much harsher lifestyle. Every choice you make will now bear consequences, no matter the severity. Every day will be long. Some of you will not cope with what lies ahead. All we professors can do for you is try to prepare you for what is to come."

Ozpin's eyes scanned the audience once more, noting that some of the young ones had frozen. If his speech alone was all that was needed to frighten them or give them a severe reality check… then, they are not prepared.

"In the end though, whatever your future holds, know that you yourself will play a pivotal role."

By the end, the headmaster's eyes had hardened, though only a few who were attentive enough managed to catch a glimpse of it before they returned to its relaxed features, "You also may have heard rumors of Initiation being pushed back due to certain complications rising up. Allow me to disabuse you of that notion."

Ozpin took another brief sip from his mug,

"Initiation begins today."

…

Amidst the silent, stunned crowd came a singular "YES!" from a certain red-hooded girl.

"And it begins now."

…

"Wait, what?"

"Before, we would have our Initiation in the Emerald Forest, where each aspiring student would be launched to retrieve a certain artifact," Ozpin continued placidly, either ignoring the question or hearing it and simply not caring, "But this year will be a rather special one. Due to certain events that have happened in the past 24 hours, it was decided that there will be a different kind of Initiation today."

He ignored the scowl and glare that his Deputy Headmistress was giving him behind his back with repeated experience, content with sipping from his mug once more and continuing, "If you direct your attention to the back, there are tables with a variety of Dust ammunitions and crystals set on it, categorized in their respective elements. These are a special type of Dust, in that they are 'non-lethal'," if Ozpin had bothered putting that nice cup of coffee down, he would have made the quote gesture along with those two words, "Please apply your weapons with these now. Oh, and as they say, first come first serve. There's only a limited supply."

With that said, the students all scrambled towards the table, some even jumping others just to hog the Dust for their own. Ozpin felt that it is wise to not mention that this was a last-minute change. Once all the tables were all wiped clear, he continued,

"You must be wondering why I had this type of Dust laid about. This is part of your Initiation. To put it in the most simplest terms…"

The intercom above the Headmaster blared to life, and a gruff Southern Gulchian accent hollered through, "Beat each other up until 60 students remain standing! Over and out!"

"…What Professor Sarge said so concisely," Ozpin finished and turned around to leave the auditorium, Glynda following suit. He had no wish to be a part of the incoming mess. The ringing ears helped bolster that wish. "With that said, you have one hour. You may begin as soon as the door slams shut."

Everyone was quiet as they watched Ozpin leave, his footsteps working like a ticking time bomb for what would become an explosion of mass proportion. The door opened, and the two professors left the large room.

And when the door slammed close…

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!"

Chaos erupted.

A/N: I ain't gonna apologize for what I did. I did it too many times to begin caring again.

In other news, I have no clue how hacking works. If there's anyone willing to correct me though, I'm more than happy to correct the mistake. Then again, I'm 93% sure hacking's pretty damn illegal, but I won't report you. I swear on my worthless life.

-DarkAkatsuk1