Let's start this one off with a bit of trivia.

Did you know that a staggering 77.9% of Remnant's youths at least attempt to find a career fighting Grimm Professionally?

Did you know that every major hunter academy has, at maximum, around an 8% acceptance rate?

Did you know that, in regard to the failed applicants, only about 20% are even qualified to be considered marginally trained for attempted application?

And finally, did you know that 80% of failed applicants immediately conscripted into the Military afterwards?

Well you know now, and it'll help you in the long run I promise. I find that these simple facts put the stupidity of mankind into…" Helpful Perspective".

This is because, if you saw the military's yearly haul of Academy rejects, your first thought would probably be "Holy shit holy shit holy shit, Monty-Fucking-Oum, these JACKASSES are in over their heads". And you'd be right to think that.

Everybody is in it for glory, and everybody thinks they are the protagonist of the story. Luckily, the PR and Recruitment staff at Atlas developed a very successful way of trimming the proverbial fat.

Nowadays, when someone tries to enter the Atlesian Military, they go through a very basic (but thorough) orientation that educates them on how the military sees them as a statistic on a computer as opposed to rational, living, thinking beings. They are then presented with photos, videos, eye-witness accounts, etc. detailing the many ways Atlas soldiers are continuously found mauled, disemboweled and half-eaten by baby-Grimm whilst on the line duty. If required, they are then met with an onsite therapist who tries (in vain) to pleasantly reassure the quitters that "life still has meaning" and that "not every shadow wants to eat you".

Suffice to say that, if anybody stuck around past orientation, they would forgo any and all delusions of grandeur they may have developed about themselves.

But, THANKFULLY, this doesn't apply to everyone.

In fact, SOME people enlist because they understand full-well that their place isn't with the Hunters and Huntresses training at the academies. Private Second-Class Matthew B. Gates was one of these people.

Gates was a simple red-headed farm boy in his youth: head-strong, humble and smart. The military ran strong in his family; it was a birthright that he accepted with open arms. These qualities, combined with his natural soldier-like disposition, made him a perfect recruit in the eyes of Atlas.

Furthermore, in training, Gates was a natural, but he was never much of a braggart in regard to his skill. However, that didn't keep him from developing at least a modicum of pride when he was recognized for it.

He worked hard.

Trained hard.

Fought hard.

And all of his effort was never left unrecognized, even by the higher brass.

You see, in Gates' mind, his talents as a soldier are exactly what landed him a place on the high-priority escort mission he was current carrying out: To secure and see to the transportation of one Professor Ozpin.

Headmaster of the illustrious beacon academy, the pride of Vale, and an extremely high value political target. Gates thought he might've been transporting a Schnee for all the prestige surrounding the Professor.

But.

In the end.

After all is said done, the mission is what mattered most, and Gates would see that it was carried out.

And that's why he didn't exactly follow the professor's ludicrous orders of "stay put", and opted to instead trail him from a distance, alone. His mission parameters came from General Ironwood himself. And that's why even if the Prof technically out ranked him, he wasn't about to let the man wonder off and possibly get killed.

But, too his surprise, he was spared a long walk when the Professor came back into view… walking side-by-side with the unidentified, possibly hostile, individual.

Gates tensed as the Professor called out to him. "Ah! Private…Gates was it? Thank you for meeting us halfway." He said smiling. "I have concluded the nature of this interruption to our journey to be… a dramatic misunderstanding."

"Sir. While that may be-" Gates said, turning his attention to the… oddly dressed individual. "I don't know if jeopardizing your safety was worth making contact with this… person."

"Nonsense!" said Ozpin "My new friend here is simply travelling to Vale, like you and I, Private." He said gesturing to all three of them. "And after some careful consideration, I've decided that they should travel the rest of the way with us."

…

'This guy's insane' thought Gates.

"Sir." Gates said, with as much respect he could muster. "This guy's business and ours are not one the same, if that were true, they would've been in the APC with us when we left."

"That no matter-"

"Sir, we can spare some perishables, but I cannot allow-" With a sharp raise of his hand, Ozpin had cut him off.

"Private, I commend you for taking the extra initiative, but your hostility is neither needed nor wanted." Ozpin said as he walked past him, towards the APC. "He will be coming with us, and that's last I want to hear of it."

'This guy' thought Gates. "…Yes sir…" he turned back to the stranger, noticing the simple sword hanging at their hip. "Listen, if your gonna be riding with us" he said, reaching his hand out. "I'll need to hold onto tha-"

But his words were caught in his throat, as a white streak crossed his vision, and with surgical precision…

Gates' head was separated from his body.