I do not own RWBY or make any money from this work of fiction. RWBY is owned by the good people at Roosterteeth.
Chapter 4: The Man in the Top Hat
"Stairs. Why are there so many stairs?" whined Zia. Ming had yet to say anything, trembling as she held Zia's hand. The two children led the way down the stairs, followed by Cherise and Valentina. Last was Ozpin, leaning against the wall of the stairs as he staggered down behind them.
The stairs where rather simple, made of cement. Due to all the people who had already gone down them, they were covered in mud, dirt, and other refuse. This made the stairs somewhat slippery. To keep from slipping, Cherise had suggested to everyone to take the steps one at a time. The walls where lined with light bulbs, hanging from electrical wires that where stapled into the walls.
Smiling, Cherise said, "Don't worry, sweetie. You won't have to wait much longer."
Ozpin looked up from his feet to see what she was talking about. To his delight, Ozpin saw a bright, fluorescent light up ahead; they were almost at the base of the stairs.
Making the last push, they all breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped off the last step of the slippery stairs. Underneath the fluorescent light was a metal gate, manned by police officers. Beyond the gates, they could see a large crowd of people milling about in a wide, open room illuminated with the same fluorescent light they saw earlier on the stairs.
Walking up to the gates, the officers inspected them one-by-one before letting them through. At the back of the line, Ozpin couldn't help but wonder why they were looking at their faces and a stack of papers. Wonder what that's all about?
Too tired to care, Ozpin moved forward as Cherise was admitted through the gate, the officer calling for a medical team to come check on Valentina.
As the officer looked over a piece of paper, Ozpin took a closer look at him. Something about this guy seems . . . familiar . . .. The police officer clicked his tongue and nodded his head forward.
As the police officer's face was illuminated by the light above, Ozpin realized where he had seen this officer: he was one of the two officers who had chased him yesterday. Beginning to backpedal, Ozpin bumped up against something. Looking directly up, Ozpin found himself face-to-face with the other police officer from yesterday.
Smiling smugly at him, the officer grabbed him by the hair and pushed him into the bars of the gate. Grabbing Ozpin's arms, the officer yanked them viciously behind his back to the point that Ozpin thought they would pop out of his shoulder sockets. The other officer came forward and read off a piece of paper. "Ozpin Ozma, you are under arrest for petty theft and grand larceny. You have the right to remain silent. If you do say anything, what you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult with a lawyer and have that lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you if you so desire."
Ozpin's heart jackrabbited up into his throat. He was so terrified that he couldn't say anything. In hindsight, that was probably a good thing. Knowing him, he might say something stupid or incriminating. Probably both.
"Ozpin!" cried Cherise. Holding onto the bars on the other side of the gate, Cherise yelled at the officer, "What are you doing to my brother?!"
Shifting his grip to place the handcuffs on Ozpin's wrists, the one who was holding him said, "Girl, your brother's a criminal, and one helluvah thief, and we have quite the rap sheet that we can use to put him away for a long time." There was no missing the relish in the man's voice as he dragged Ozpin towards a side-door right next to the gate on their side of it.
Grinding his feet into the ground to slow down the cop from dragging him away, Ozpin called out to his sister. "Cherise! Is Val ok?!"
"She's fine! A group of paramedics are looking at her."
Despite the rough grip of the officer, Ozpin smiled and sighed with relief. "Go with them, I'll be fine—"
"Like hell you will," growled the officer in his ear, yanking even harder to get Ozpin moving.
Ozpin didn't get to say anything more as the officer dragged him through the door, and the other one slammed it in his face.
XXXXX
Ozpin was not a fan of tight spaces. Add to that the press of smelly, sweaty bodies and Ozpin was sure that he would need an exorcism, or a bucket. Or better yet, both.
Squeezing his way through the crush of people, Ozpin made his way to the bars. Calling out to one of the guards, he asked, "Is there another cell you could hold me in? One with fewer . . ." he looked over his shoulder to take in all the criminals he was crammed in here with, "people."
The guard angrily bashed his baton across the bars right over Ozpin's hands and yelled, "Shut the fuck up and back away from the bars! You'll get out when we let you!" Spittle flew everywhere as the angry guard continued to rant and bash away at the bars. Not that there was much point. Ozpin had pulled back from the bars as soon as he had seen the guard begin to swing his stick.
Making his way back through the crowd, Ozpin put his back up against a wall, and did his best to keep his eyes on the other inmates, and to make sure they didn't try and pickpocket him. For some reason the cops hadn't bothered to frisk him before throwing him into this holding cell with at least forty or fifty other inmates, and the number just kept increasing. He still had about a grand hidden in his pocket, and he would probably need every cent and then some to pay for a lawyer.
That thought hit Ozpin like an eighteen-wheeler going fifty over the speed limit on a highway. How was he supposed to get out of this? He was more than guilty of the crimes labeled against him. There was an overabundance of eyewitnesses, including over a dozen police officers whose testimonies would hold substantial weight. But the thought of court and prison didn't scare him anywhere near as much as the thought of his sisters having to live without him to protect and support them. They wouldn't last a week. But there was nothing he could, other than keep an eye on his fellow inmates.
XXXXX
I would murder for two minutes of sleep.
Ozpin was honestly surprised that he hadn't tried to kill one of his fellow inmates. Sure, they were all bigger, meaner, and probably a lot stronger based on their muscle mass, but hey, where would be the fun in not trying?
Admittedly, the most exciting thing to have happened was two rival gang members beating the shit out of each other on the other side of the cell, but nothing else had happened since.
It had been hours since they had thrown them in this cell, and the guards had been slowly filtering them out to be sentenced for whatever heinous crimes they had committed against society. During that time, anyone dumb enough to fall asleep would have their pockets rifled through. At least that was the lucky ones.
The not-so-lucky ones had the crap stomped out of them for good measure. A lot of those taken out of the cell where specifically taken out due to injury. Ozpin, not wanting to wind up like them, was doing his best to blink as infrequently as possible.
He had been staving off sleep for hours. Between his injuries and exhaustion, it was an uphill battle. But so far he was winning.
On the bright side, this tense environment had kept his mind focused on the inmates and absent of wanderlust.
As the hours passed by, more and more inmates had been taken out of the cell for either sentencing or medical upkeep. The only two left in the cell were Ozpin himself and the poster boy for "thug life." Big, brooding, and covered in prison tats, one would most certainly not want to run into this brute in a dark alley. Or in a well-lit street. Seriously, dude's built like a truck. And he was eying Ozpin with obvious malice.
"The fuck you looking at, punk?" growled the thug.
For a moment, Ozpin figured he would just ignore the thug. But than an evil, and admittedly stupid,idea came to mind. Donning the same lecherous smile that Stephen would wear when he saw an attractive woman, and dropping his voice to the best approximation of a falsetto, Ozpin winked at the thug and said, "What's a matter, sugar? You shy?"
The thug bristled, then snorted and said, "What, you a fag?"
Pouting, Ozpin said, "We prefer the term 'queen,' thank you very much!"
The thugs jaw dropped. His mouth flopped like a fish for a few moments before he finally found his voice. "The fuck?! You a tranny?!"
Snickering like an idiot, Ozpin quit pretending to have a falsetto and said, "Not nearly as much as you, bucko. Dude, stop taking them steroids. You might not have been born a dude, but that shit will still shrink the important equipment. And seriously, how do you get any dates with that dragon tattoo on your face? Oh, let me guess. You pay your dates, don't you?" Ozpin smiled cruelly at the thug as his anger became all but palpable in the room.
Standing up, the thug flipped him off and said, "You better shut your fucking mouth. I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!"
Laughing uproariously, Ozpin said, "You eat shit? Well damn, that explains the smell. Seriously dude, you ever hear of Spearmint or Altoids? I'd suggest you start investing, given your diet."
Confused and angry, the burly thug said, "What? The fuck are you talking about?"
Rolling his eyes, Ozpin said, "I said you smell like shit! Gods, you're slow."
His face turning red, the thug stomped to his feet and screamed, "You shut the fuck up!"
Blowing air out the side of his mouth at the not-so-subtle threat, Ozpin said, "Pfft. Or what?"
"Or I'll make you. What are you, retarded?" growled the thug, a sneer plastered over his ugly features.
Snorting derisively, Ozpin said, "Again, not nearly as much as you are. It's just the two of us. You think the guards are just going to stand by and let you beat on me?"
As if proving his point, the moment the thug made a move towards him, one of the guards rapped on the bars and yelled, "You two sit the fuck down! Don't cause any shit until your hearings."
Smiling smugly, Ozpin said, "See? Told you so. Dumbass." That was a mistake.
Apparently that last insult was more than the gangster could take. Ignoring the warnings and calls of the guards, the thug advanced on Ozpin. Normally, Ozpin would be panicking; he hadn't been in a fight since grade school. But strangely enough, Ozpin was excited. His mind was a jumbled mess of emotions, and he needed something, anything, to get his mind off of the last 24 hours of mayhem.
"Oh, what's this? Dumbass wants to be a dumbass? Here, douchey douchey douchey~," singsonged Ozpin, patting his lap playfully as if he were calling a dog.
With an angry bellow, the thug charged. Swinging high, he aimed his fist at Ozpin's head. Ducking and stumbling backwards, Ozpin avoided the punch, only to find his back pressed up against the wall. Oh, shi–
Ozpin's thoughts splintered as the thug's right hook connected in a vicious blow to Ozpin's jaw. Ozpin's head snapped backwards and hit the wall before his legs gave out and he fell to his knees.
Grabbing Ozpin's hair, the thug yanked his head back so that Ozpin was looking up at him. "What's your name, bitch?"
Sputtering out some blood that had gathered in his mouth, Ozpin managed to spit out, "Why?"
Leering down at Ozpin with a cruel grin, the thug said, "'Cause after I get out of here, I'm going to find your bitch o'a mama and – well, you're so fucking smart. Bet you can figure it out." Those words snapped Ozpin's hazy mind back to the present, and his eyes focused on the thugs face. The thug's smile grew as he saw a muscle twitch under Ozpin's right eye.
Continuing to gloat, the thug leaned closer to Ozpin to get a better look at him. "Whatza matter, bitch? You ain't talking that tough shit now, are ya? Come on, say something cl–"
Without warning, Ozpin spat in the thug's face. Cursing and letting go of his hair, the thug stepped back to wipe the blood and saliva off his face. "That's it! You're fucking deeeeeeeeaaad?!" His voice rose into a soprano. Rising to one knee, Ozpin had taken the opportunity to coldcock his aggressor.
Bending forward, the thug cupped himself in agony. But Ozpin wasn't done yet. Still on one knee, Ozpin brought his left fist up into a violent uppercut straight into the thug's nose. His entire body jerked backwards as blood sprayed like a faucet from his broken nose.
Ignoring the pain in his face and fists, Ozpin rose to pursue the thug. "You don't threaten my family. Not now, not ever. Fuck you, you steroid driven, tattoo covered cunt! FUCK! YOU!" screamed Ozpin, his mind engulfed with furious emotions.
As Ozpin closed the distance between him and the thug, the sound of a shotgun cocking stopped him midstride. "Both of you, to the walls! NOW!" screamed one of the guards who crashed through the cell door.
Ozpin hadn't noticed them come in, but they all seemed incredibly agitated and a little too trigger happy for his tastes. Looking down the sleek barrel of the shotgun, he felt his rage slide off of him like ice off an iceberg. Slowly backing up, he placed his arms above his head. The thug mirrored his movements, backing up to the opposite wall.
Smiling despite his broken lip, Ozpin said, "Oh, come on, officers. We were just having a little bit of fun. No need to whip out your guns."
"Shut up!" growled the closest officer. "Both of you, turn around and put your hands on the wall."
Doing as he was told, Ozpin had a moment of panic. What if they shoot me? Gods, please don't let me die a pedestrian virgin!
To his relief, all the officer did was yank his arms behind his back and cuff him. Turning him around, Ozpin saw that they had given Dragon Tattoo the same treatment.
Winking at Tattoo Face, Ozpin said, "Guess are fun got cut short. Let's finish this another time, mmm'k, sweetheart?"
The look on Dragon Tattoo's face promised future retribution. Probably a safe bet to not drop the soap.
"That's it," growled the officer holding Ozpin. Ozpin recognized him as the one he had asked to be moved to another cell. "You wanted out of this cell? Congrats, your wish just got granted." He proceeded to drag Ozpin out of the cell and down an adjoining corridor. Stopping in front of a thick iron door, the officer took one hand off of Ozpin to reach for a key ring at his hip. Unlocking the door, the guard unlocked Ozpin's cuffs and shoved Ozpin into the room. "Wait here. There's someone who wants to talk to you." With that, the guard slammed the door in his face.
Rubbing his sore wrists, Ozpin took in his new surroundings. The room was small, maybe 10'x10', illuminated by a single hanging light bulb in the ceiling. In the center was a small wooden table with a wood chair on either side. The walls where made of stone, and there were no windows or bars. The only exit out was the only entrance in. In the corner was a pair of buckets. Walking over to check their contents, Ozpin found that one of the buckets was filled with water, and the other was empty.
As he was about to pick up the bucket of water to take a big gulp, he saw his reflection in the water. He looked a mess. His face was covered with dirt and sweat, and the lower half of his face was covered in blood. His lip was a mess: it had split in three different places on the lower lip alone, and there was a nasty looking bruise forming on his left cheek and jawline. His hair and hairline was crusted with dry blood from when he hit his head.
Blinking, Ozpin dropped the bucket in surprise. It hit the ground with a splash. He had never seen himself looking so beat up. Looking down at his hands, he flinched as he saw how inflamed his wrists had become. But that was nothing compared to the knuckles of his left hand: the skin was split and there was blood running between his fingers and down his forearm.
He felt like his life was falling apart. In this cell, there was no one he had to be on guard around. There was nothing to keep his mind off the events of the last 24 hours. Hyperventilating, Ozpin's thoughts swam with the memories of his mother's parting words, the fear on Cherise and the children's faces, and Valentina's small, broken form. But worst of all were thoughts of his future. Him, in prison, unable to help his sisters survive the rough road ahead of them.
Unable to take it, Ozpin needed to find something to take his mind off of the horrible future he foresaw for himself. Looking around the room, his eyes focused on the chair in front of him. Before he could think better of it, he picked up the chair and smashed it down onto the table, sending wood and splinters flying in all directions. Backing away from the mess, Ozpin screamed until his voice was raw.
Backing himself into a corner, he crumpled into a mess on the floor and sobbed. He didn't know for how long he sat there and cried, but eventually his tears dried up. Exhausted, he let himself drift off into the slumber that he had been staving off for hours . . .
XXXXX
. . . and slept for about two minutes.
Ozpin woke up to the sensation of having cold water splashed in his face. Spluttering and gasping, Ozpin tried to wipe the water off his face to get a better look at his new tormentor. He couldn't make out much about the newest addition to the room, what with the light shining directly behind him.
"Rise and shine, punkin," said the man, still holding the bucket in one hand. In his other hand was a familiar looking cane with a familiar looking cog and lever. Ozpin recognized the voice.
As the man backed up, the light descended on his features to affirm Ozpin's suspicions. "Hi, Top Hat. If you want your money back, don't bother. I already spent it all on booze and loose woman," lied Ozpin.
An all-knowing smirk descended on the soldiers face. "I seriously doubt that." Turning around, he limped over to the only remaining chair and sat himself down, extending his right leg. Ozpin didn't miss the sigh escape the man as he sat down. Giving the extended leg a second look, Ozpin noticed that halfway down the foreleg, the bone seemed to jut outwards at a painful angle. Ozpin wondered what could have caused something like that. Maybe some old war wound? Or was he born with it? No, that wouldn't make sense. They wouldn't allow him in the army with a disability like that. Would they? Are we that desperate for soldiers?
Giving the pile of kindling in front of him a cynical look, No-Longer-Top-Hat said, "Not a fan of the decor, eh? Can't say I blame you. It really is quite drab in here."
Ozpin rolled his eyes at his poor attempt at small talk. Pushing himself to his feet, Ozpin grumbled, "What do you want?" Walking up to the mess, Ozpin added, "And did you have to splash me?"
The army man shrugged and said, "Looked like you needed a bath. Besides, I'd imagine you would prefer that over me poking you with my cane." Ozpin would have appreciated the concern if he believed it to be genuine. As things stood, Ozpin wanted to sock the soldier in his smug face, swollen fist be damned.
Before he gave into the urge and probably got his ass handed to him on a silver platter, Ozpin reiterated himself. "What. Do. You. Want? Unless you're here to escort me in front of a jury, I'm really not in the mood to deal with any more crap."
Sobering, the soldier reached under himself and picked up a folder he had been sitting on. "Alright, Mr. Magician," he said, using Ozpin's street name. There was something about his tone that Ozpin didn't like; it reminded him of when the soldier told him not to disappoint him. "I have a proposition for you."
Wagging the folder in the air, the soldier said, "This here is a folder detailing who you are, according to government records, and what you are being accused of. And kid, I have to say that from what I've read, your life sucks."
"You don't need to tell me, I live my life," grumbled Ozpin. He was not amused that this stranger was making a joke out of his life.
Snorting at Ozpin's caustic tone, he handed him the file and the carried on. "You're looking at 12 years, minimum. I just have to know, how did you break into the Winchester mansion? The file says you made off with an original DeCaso Coal painting, worth almost 10 million."
Ozpin's eyes bugged out at the sum. Are you fucking kidding me?! Steph and me sold that thing for only 2500! Despite his outrage, Ozpin was ashamed of what he'd done. That heist had been the only breaking-and-entering that he had ever committed. Stephen had come to him with the idea, having heard that some rich prick had bought some fancy painting. Getting in and out had been difficult, but they'd pulled it off and split the profit. But in that moment, Ozpin had never felt more like a criminal. If not for the fact he needed the money to pay for Cherise's medicine, the guilt would have driven him to go back to the mansion and give back his portion of the cut.
Ozpin had never been more disgusted with himself.
Swallowing hard, Ozpin's mind started to process what the soldier had said previous to asking about the painting. 12 years. Minimum of 12 years. I am so screwed.
Thinking fast, Ozpin said, "You said you have a proposition for me?"
The soldier's smile grew wider as he picked up on the panic in Ozpin's voice. "You have a good poker face, but it's like every word coming out of your mouth is layered in emotion." He raised his hand as Ozpin opened his mouth to tell him off. "Cool your jets. Yes, I have a deal for you."
Weaving his fingers together, the soldier's demeanor grew more serious. "After this recent attack, it's more than obvious that Mantle wasn't as close to defeat as we thought she was. Taking that into account, the state army is looking for men and women to fill in the vacant ranks. Those in power refuse to lower the age of conscription below 17, and refuse to implement a forced conscription. And yet, some egghead came up with the wonderful idea to conscript felons with low sentences," the soldier rolled his eyes at the stupidity that he was spewing. "In return for their military service, their police files will be cleared, and they will be allowed to live as free men and woman."
Something about all this didn't sit well with Ozpin. "Then why are you in here, talking to some no name thief? It's not exactly like I'm battle-ready to fight a war. Hell, the last fight I was in left me like this," he said, indicating his bloodied state.
The soldier snorted at him. "I don't know about that, Ozpin. Looked like you had him on the run, and he easily had a couple hundred pounds of muscle on you. Gotta say, I most certainly wasn't disappointed with that display."
That caught Ozpin by surprise. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "You saw me fight Tattoo Face?"
The soldier gave Ozpin a pain-filled grimace before laughing. "Seriously? Tattoo Face? Come on, kid. I was expecting something more original."
Offended, Ozpin said, "Oh, I'm sorry. What would you call him if he was trying to cave in your skull?"
The soldier responded immediately. "Shit-for-brains."
Ozpin rolled his eyes at the soldier. "Oh, and why's that?"
All the humor left the soldier's face as he said, "Because I would crush him into paste under my boot." There was none of the self-assured cockiness that the soldier was displaying earlier. All Ozpin saw was a grim, intelligent face with a dark gleam in his eyes.
Shivering, Ozpin realized that he wasn't bantering with some random stranger. He was talking to a very dangerous, potentially volatile soldier who has probably seen more violence in a day than Ozpin had seen in his entire life. To put the rotted cherry on top of the bullshit sundae, this man held Ozpin's future in his hand. Maaaaybe I should play nice.
Swallowing hard, Ozpin decided that he wanted to re-direct the conversation back to what was troubling him most. Well, second most. "It still doesn't make sense why you would be interested in recruiting me. I'm just a kid."
Taking back the folder (Ozpin hadn't bothered to peruse it, he had a pretty good idea what was inside), he opened it and began to read notes from it. "Ozpin Ozma. 17, just the right age for conscription. Skipped a grade in grade school and finished Grade 9 with the highest average of 98.5%." Looking up from the page for a moment, the soldier looked at Ozpin and said, "Hopefully you still have a good head on your shoulders." Ozpin chose to ignore that jibe as the soldier continued. "You've been unemployed your entire life, and yet you still make payments for the medicine for your mother and sister's medical condition. Considering how expensive Mavro is, you must be robbing people non-stop, and this is the first time you've been arrested. Either that or you really enjoy poker. Probably a bit of both. Either way, I'm impressed."
Tapping the folder on his chin, the soldier said, "Call me crazy, but your actions don't strike me as those of a selfish man. You're desperate, and desperate people make desperate decisions. Tell me, why did you never get a job?"
Ozpin's face turned to stone. "I tried. No one wants to hire a street urchin." Narrowing his eyes in anger, Ozpin said, "And I know the military isn't running a charity. So get to the actual reason why you're 'interviewing' me." He used sarcastic finger quotes around the word "interview."
Sighing, the soldier said, "Really, kid? You need a job, some way to pay for your sisters' medical and living expenses. And if you don't take this deal you're almost certainly looking at a life behind bars. Are you sure you want to look this gift horse in the mouth?"
Part of Ozpin's mind screamed at him for not jumping on this opportunity, but if life in the slums had taught him anything, if something sounded too good to be true than it normally was. One of his mom's old sayings floated through his head. Beware those who give gifts without pretense. Nothing in life was free.
"I'm not letting this go. Why are you trying to recruit me?" said Ozpin. He was losing patience with this carrot and stick game that the soldier was playing.
Sighing, the soldier placed the folder on the ground and stood up. Stumbling forward with his cane, the soldier stood in front of him and said, "Because you're Captain Marvel Ozma's kid."
Hearing those words was like a verbal slap to the face. Stunned, Ozpin didn't say anything as the soldier continued. "I'm sure you know this, but your old man had silver eyes, just like you. You know the old stories, right? Silver eyed people are born warriors; the best you'll ever see on a killing field."
Before Ozpin could pull away, the soldier grabbed him and pulled him close. Now that they were standing toe-to-toe, Ozpin could see that the soldier was a few inches taller than him.
Giving him a hard look, the soldier said, "And you know what? I've never seen a better fighter, and trust me, I've been on enough battlefields to know what I'm talking about."
Letting go of Ozpin's arm, the soldier took a step back. "You were probably too young to remember this, but when this war first started, each kingdom tried to recruit as many silver eyed individuals as they legally could, and some that they couldn't. Now, I'd say that gene has become pretty rare. Any CO worth his salt who hears about you will try to recruit you, and trust me when I say that their offers won't be as good. Most of the COs are only offering federal pardons. Not only am I offering you a pardon, but I'm also offering you a full officers salary, so you can provide for your family."
Ozpin new the stories, but that's all they were: stories. Men and women who were born to fight. Ozpin had never felt particularly special. In fact, every fight that he had been in had always left him bruised and bleeding. But as Ozpin thought of those fights, he realized that one way or another he always walked away the victor. Biting, crotch-shots, potshots, and eye-pocks – Ozpin did whatever he had to just to win. That doesn't prove anything. I'm not skilled at fighting. My face is proof of that. But still . . . this is a good opportunity.
Taking a deep breath, Ozpin said, "What's the starting salary?"
The soldier raised a questioning eyebrow. "So you're in?"
Ozpin shook his head. "I'm not agreeing to anything before I see the contract. I want to know just what I'm walking into."
"Fair enough." Stooping down and standing back up in one fluid motion, the soldier picked up the folder. Rifling through the pages, he took out one near the back of the folder and passed it to Ozpin. "This here is your salary. As you can see, you'll be starting off as a Private. By working your way up the ranks, you can increase your salary."
Ozpin read through the contract, his stomach shrinking as he came to terms with just what he was signing up for. Once his eyes came to the amount he would be paid each month, he sighed in disappoint. While reasonable, it was less than he would have preferred.
"Alright. Say that I agree, I just have one more question."
The soldier raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Really, just one? Ok, sport, fire away."
Taking a deep breath, Ozpin said, "Who the hell are you?"
For a moment, the soldier was actually stunned into silence. But it didn't last long. Throwing his head back, he laughed uproariously. After a couple minutes, he calmed down enough to say, "Damn, Ozpin. I thought you'd never ask." Standing up proudly, the soldier said, "I'm Sergeant Magnus Nikkos, and from here on in I'm your commanding officer."
A/N: . . . So, that was thing. Hope y'all enjoyed these chapters, and good luck to anyone who has any tests, midterms, or papers/projects coming up.
P.S. And remember, don't be a hater, but be a CONGRATULATOR! And please leave a review, comment, or positive piece of criticism. Cause honestly, any kind of feedback helps me to understand what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.