Fire roared in the distance. Bullets flew, lasers pierced the air in bright red blasts, plasma burned a straight line path towards it's destination.

Adam's Air Force Base. The final stronghold of the Enclave. Jane darted up, avoiding the enemy fire. Far behind her Brotherhood troops supported her, keeping the heavy artillery pinned so she could get inside. Technically she should have an infiltration team, but with Sarah still out of the game the Lion's Pride couldn't act.

Entering an access hatch on the side of the monstrous creation, Jane dashed through the halls. Armor piercing shotgun slugs turned power armored troops into lifeless forms. Her pistol barked, causing lesser armored targets to jerk, pirouetting on the spot, falling to the ground.

She had to get to the top. That's where the orbital codes were. From there she could take this damned place out and cause the satellite to destroy itself. Firing another round, the head of a Tesla trooper exploded, helmet making sparking sounds.

That's why she liked her armor. The stormcoat had ballistic weaving to help deflect bullets. Ceramic plates underneath dispersed the energy from any laser blasts. The plasma could be dodged. Slow moving crap.

Some of the officers began to run, seeing they couldn't kill her. Already she could hear the screams, the cries of terror. A feral grin overtook her masked face.

Up a flight of stairs. A few rounds, 2 dead. Another flight, nobody. A third flight, 3 power armored troops. 2 shots for suppressing fire, a plasma grenade down the hall.

Breaking open a door, she smiled. The control room. Noticing the officers, she unloaded the rest of her pistol, headshots taking them out. Stepping over, she hauled a headless corpse off of the control panel, seeing the targeting information.

Rather than hacking it herself, Jane pulled a cable from her pip-boy. Slotting it into an empty port, she spoke.

"Liberty, burn this base in holy fire!" A deep, gravely robotic tone responded.

"Affirmative! Targeting Communist Structure! Alert, firing procedure in progress. Target: Pentagon!"

Jane paled.

"No no no! Stop it! Change the coordinates! Don't let that satellite fire!" she screamed. The red light on her pip-boy, a solitary ball bouncing left and right responded.

"Solid state rockets already firing. Sequence cannot be aborted! Sending evacuation protocals!"

Were the system still working, the warning sirens at the Citadel would have started up. 200 years of age had destroyed the mechanisms for that however.

Looking at the horizon, she could only gasp as a bright light blossomed into existence.


Her eyes snapped open. It had been only a few months since that incident, but it was still fresh in her mind. Her crimson eyes snapped back and forth.

Oh yes, she was a prisoner. Or a guest. Honestly it depended.

It was stark, with only a bed in the corner, functioning toilet to once side, and a bright light above. Her armor and weapons had been confiscated, the white skin where the pip-boy should be almost glowing compared to the tanned, scarred flesh everywhere else.

And yet, the bed was new, not stained by fluids or materials of an unknown nature. The clothes were soft, so soft. The food was amazing, even compared to her vault days. And there hadn't been one interrogation yet. And she got to shower!

"Even if it's a prison, this has to be a very nice prison. Didn't even get this good back in the vault," she said aloud. Somebody had to be listening.

She leaned back, head resting against the wall while she sat on the bed, recounting how she got here.

First she was taken prisoner by the robots. Roman, the orange haired guy, was dragged away on a medical stretcher to the awaiting airship.

"Heh, airships. Those are fucking cool," she laughed.

At gunpoint she was told to disarm herself, one of the robots taking her pistol, sword and multitude of knives. Her shotgun was lost in the fray. Hopefully it hadn't been destroyed. That would be problematic.

Then she was given these orange clothes and a fresh set of underwear, apparently never worn by anybody. That experience alone told her she should cooperate. Fresh clothes were awesome.

Using the showers, she had cleaned the blood from her armor while also cleaning herself. After all, if it wasn't cleaned, it would stink forever. Although, it already kinda did. She did growl at the cracked optic. That would need fixing.

And then a quartet of robots led her to her cell, where she sat, cross legged on the bed.

"It's been what, 3 hours? How soon until I get let out? I did nothing wrong!" she shouted to the empty cell. Having spent the first half hour attempting escape, she had to admit, it was pretty secure. Amazing what a lack of 200 years of decay did to security systems.

Her eyes flicked over to the door, seeing it slide up. Closing them, she ignored whomever walked in. This was how it started. Friendly words, then harsh ones.

"Well well Ms. Freewrite, I must say, you've caused quite a stir. Not every day a figure saves one of my students with no background, no history, and strange technology never before seen."

Students?

Jane cracked an eye open, the red orb glaring balefully at the figure.

Green wool suite, grey hair, glasses, a cane, brown leather shoes. A cane.

She tensed. This man was dangerous. The way he fingered his cane, held his mug. He had a half dozen ways to incapacitate her already.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "No need to be frightened of an old man such as myself," he stated.

Jane didn't laugh, but she didn't stop looking.

Seeing she didn't respond, he continued. "Depending on whom you ask, the story of Ms. Rose' rescue plays very differently. Ms. Rose says you took out the White Fang guards right before things could have escalated. Her experience with Mr. Torchwick being a catalyst for whatever might have happened."

Again, Jane didn't respond.

The man took a drink. "Her sister, Ms. Xiao Long would argue different. She states that a mysterious figure started shooting, and it was only her timely intervention and the assistance of Doctor Oobleck that prevented you from killing Ms. Rose."

The corner of Jane's mouth twitched.

"You find that funny? Might I ask why?" He took a sip.

Silence. Jane was an immovable wall.

The man sighed. "You should know that depending on how this goes, live could turn out very differently for you. Should I support you, you could avoid dealing with the military. Personally I'm not a fan, but they do like prosecuting people. And even if you turned in Torchwick, you could be seen as an accomplice."

Another sip.

"On the other hand, I say nothing, and you become something of an anomaly. Technology completely unknown, running off of a different scientific principle. No name, no registration. The military would shuffle you to one of their arctic research bases kept below ground, never to see the light of day. You would probably be pumped full of drugs, forced to divulge your knowledge, all in the name of state security."

Another sip. More silence.

"Fair enough, you've made your choice." Turning to leave, he snapped his fingers. The door began sliding open.

"You're not who pretend to be." The man paused. Gesturing at the door, it closed again.

"Come again?" he asked.

"You come in here, pretending to be an old man, past his prime. You hold your cane in a ready grip. The groove by the handle tells me there's a hidden blade. Your mug is old. There's a crack on the side, and the handle is well worn. I wouldn't be shocked if the ceramic broke to reveal knuckle dusters. But most of all teach, is that your eyes haven't left mine. Most look at the hands, the feet, they look for twitches. No, you look at my eyes." Leaning forward, a feral grin lit upon her face.

"You know war, death. You've killed. You're dangerous." She leaned back, eyes alight.

"And you know I am as well," she finished.

The man paused. A sip.

"Was I that obvious?" he chuckled.

Jane took a while to respond. "I saved Ms. Rose, as you call her. Roman was talking about toying with her. Me being the upstanding person I am I couldn't let that happen. Ms. Xiao Long and the rest of her buddies seem to think shooting people is a bad thing and doing so endangers her sister."

The man nodded.

"Yes, that was one thing that was brought up. While I will shed no tears over the deaths of terrorists' intent on killing innocent people, I do question the ease of which you killed them, with seemingly no remorse."

Jane openly laughed at that. "Really? That's the question? Honestly, after the first dozen or so kills, it's just easy. And besides, when literally everything tries to kill you, you either die or you adapt. Problem with that?" she taunted. The man frowned.

"Perhaps I am missing something here, although I have a suspicion. Explain to me just how you came to be in the depths of Mount Glenn, seemingly at the right time?"

Jane paused, thinking about it. And then she explained.

"You've not given me your name." The man paused mid sip.

"Yes, I suppose I haven't." Another sip.

Jane frowned. Fine, that's how it was going to go.

"What is the most destructive, singular weapon available.?" The man narrowed his eyes. There was a period of tense silence.

"The main gun on an Atlas Dreadnaught. The Dust enhanced shot can level an area almost 400 meters wide, depending on the type." The man proceeded to sip some more coffee, but had to stop at Jane's reaction.

She laughed. It was a gut wrenching, bowed over, gripping her ribs through the orange prison suite laugh. She laughed so hard tears fell from here eyes, hair falling around her face. She must have laughed for a solid 5 minutes. Laughing at the sheer incredulity of the statement.

And then she stopped. Reaching a hand up, she used the heel of her hand to wipe away a tear.

"Tell me, what if I told you of a weapon so destructive, so powerful, it could level a city almost 2 kilometers in any direction of the blast radius. That the heat from this weapon could burn the image of a human being into concrete, turning their form into ash. And what if this weapon could poison the land, the air, the water for thousands of years, rendering it all but inhospitable to life. What would you say?"

For once, the man didn't sip his drink.

"I would wonder why a weapon was ever made. I suppose I would also question just how this is relevant."

Jane nodded, a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"In my world, and trust me dear Professor, I am from another world, this weapon did exist. We called it an atomic bomb." Seeing that he didn't react, she continued.

"The weapon functioned on the principle of tearing apart atoms, the building blocks of the universe. A single bomb the side of a human being could level an entire city. Radiation, a side effect of this bomb, pollutes the land, turning what wasn't an impact zone into an inhospitable deathscape. Death from radiation isn't preferable. Your body literally falls apart over a period of time, depending on exposure. Now imagine a world where the entire world built these weapons in incalculable amounts, and in mere pride, fired them, burning the earth in the fires of creation, wiping life off the face of the earth."

She grinned, seeing his shocked expression.

"The sum of human history, all his triumphs, failures, trials, all rendered into so many words in a book inside of a span around two hours. The only significant human population survived deep below the earth, in vaults, designed to keep people safe."

The man nodded. "If something like this existed, then I can see-"

"But that's not all!" she interjected, voice raising. The man paused, not used to being interrupted.

"These vaults were never expected to be used! Instead, the company, Vault-Tec, built them for social experiments, scientific endeavors! There were hundreds of these vaults! Hundreds! And yet, only a handful were control vaults, functioning as advertised!"

Silence stretched.

"Social experiments?" he queried, almost hesitantly. Jane was only to happy to oblige.

"Vault 87. A monument to human arrogance. Citizens were brought in and exposed to a chemical formula designed to force the evolution of humanity, hopefully reaching the peak of human potential. Instead, it created mindless, 7 to 8 foot tall beings who could only feel anger, rage, and pain. These monsters, mutants as we called them, escaped into the wasteland. The aforementioned radiation actually heals them, making them faster, stronger, and smarter. Long lived mutants could actually grow into almost 30 feet monstrosities."

Seeing his alarm, she pressed on, crimson eyes never leaving his.

"Vault 92 wanted to create super soldiers. Great musicians were invited, but white noise was blasted over the speakers, implanting thoughts and motivations into the minds of these creative souls. After only a few months, the citizens went crazy, literally tearing each other with their bear hands in a blood crazed fury. Vault 101, my vault, was somewhat tame. We grew up in a dictatorship, with a heavily armed police force."

She could see his fear, his worry, wondering what mad world she came from.

"In my vault, the phrase 'You are born in the vault, you shall die in the Vault' was common place. Vault 112 however was one of the worst. Inside, there were relatively few residents, but they were kept alive in a computer simulation, killed and toyed with endlessly before resetting their very minds, all at the behest of a mad scientist thinking himself a god."

She grinned, seeing him pale, putting the mug to his side.

"And of course, we couldn't forget 106, good old 106, fond memories there," she started, closing her eyes and leaning back.

"Vault 106 was almost normal. No strange things, hidden rooms. Just good old fashioned 'let's see what happens.' After 10 days, psychoactive drugs were pumped into the air system. Slowly at first, but in greater quantities as time went on. Like 92, people were propelled into a blood rage, murdering each other for whatever reason. When I stumbled upon that vault, I needed something deep inside."

She paused, taking a breath.

"People were still there, surviving in weird, tribal like groups. Inbreeding had ruined them. They wouldn't have had another generation. Drugs were still, somehow, being pumped into the air. Descending deeper into the vault, it was a wonder I survived."

She breathed, shuddering slightly at the memories.

"Most of it is a blur. I ran out of bullets, so I used my guns to club them, beating them into bloody pulps. When the weapons fell apart, I used my fists. By the time I got to the surface, fresh air removing the drugs from my system, I had spent almost 3 weeks in the depths of that hell hole."

She opened an eye, looking at him. His hand was on his cane more forcefully.

"What's the matter, scared? That was a Tuesday in the Wasteland. The real shit hadn't even started then." She got to her feet, bare toes curling on the smooth concrete. The man shifted, his cane firmly in his hand, other hand now on the sheath, readying.

"I come from a world where man tore itself apart, bathing in the blood and the carnage. Where the last scraps of civilization fight for the trinkets of a dead world, where the secrets of that dead time threaten every living thing. If you didn't know how to kill another, you didn't live. It's a dog eat dog world there, I just survived."

She thoughtfully put her finger on her chin, her smile running from ear to ear, teeth bared.

"I wonder, since there are no Grimm on my world, it just proves the age old proverb; don't look under the bed for the monster, because we are already it."

The man turned, leaving the room quickly, the door sliding open and closing as quickly.

Jane just stood there, grinning, a hand brushing her hair away. Raising her voice, she yelled.

"You'll be back Ozpin! I know it!"

Already a few steps away, the man, Ozpin, spun around, looking at the cell guarded by two Knights. His eyes narrowed.


Jane wasn't sure how long she sat there. Food was presented, she ate a little, and was taken away. If they were feeding her three times a day, then it had been almost a week.

Beyond the food and footsteps sometimes walking by, she had nothing to do. Escape was impossible, and asking for reading material never garnered a response. Pity.

It was day 8, as marked by the scratches on the wall, when the door slid open, and Ozpin walked back in. He looked to the top of the toilet, seeing his mug where he had left it. He frowned.

"Told ya," grinned Jane. She was laying on the bed, one arm crossed over her eyes.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked, curious.

"Two steps and a clunk from your cane. You stood outside the door for about a minute. You've been to this area 3 times now. And besides, you forgot your mug."

Silence.

"Tell me, why did you save my students." Jane frowned.

"Did we not go over that last time?" She cursed. "Of course, this is how you'll break me, ask me the same questions over and over. What's next, no pasta in my meals?" Ozpin narrowed his eyes.

"I would not condone the torture of prisoners, despite their background. I ask because it was a reason you gave but not your reason."

A rare frown danced across her face.

"Perceptive, aren't you?" He didn't respond, only looked at her, hand firmly on his cane.

"If you must know, it's because she reminded me of myself when I was young. Alone, afraid." She paused, finding the right words.

"Weak."

Ozpin reached over grabbing his mug, noting it was empty.

"Tell me," he started, resuming his stance. "If you were let go, what would you do? How would you progress from this situation?"

"Well, I'd probably suit up and head out, explore this world. I'm a Wanderer at heart. Probably take up contract jobs, see about killing these Grimm." Ozpin grinned slightly.

"What's got you pleased?" she asked, still resting with an arm over her eyes.

"What if I told you my school accepts transfer students?"

"Aren't I a little old for school?" she half asked, half laughed.

"Beacon Academy is limited only by skill. First year students tend to be around 17 years of age, but it's not unheard of for students younger or older to start."

Jane shook her head slightly, swinging herself up into a cross-legged position.

"Sorry Ozzy, already did the school thing. Test told me I was to be a technician."

Ozpin frowned.

"Oh, the G.O.A.T. test. 12 years of formal education followed by an aptitude test. The result telling you what your job in the vault was." Ozpin nodded, an odd chill going down his spine at the mention of vaults.

"At Beacon, we teach students how to fight the Grimm. They are taught history, language. Combat is an essential part, as well as learning to function as a team. Upon graduation, the students gain their Hunter's licence and are permitted to roam the world, hunting Grimm as needed, preserving Humanity."

Jane snorted. "Sounds like something from a comic. Besides, I work alone." An odd tone entered her voice, as if she wasn't quite present. Ozpin watched, seeing her almost stop perceiving the room, reliving memories.

"There's a reason I am called the Lone Wanderer," she spoke. Shaking her head, she regained her senses. Anger pulled itself across her face, knowing the almost stranger saw her in a moment of weakness.

"Put it this way Ms. Freewrite, accept my offer and I can assure you, you won't lack for opportunities. I can't promise it won't be boring, but you will enjoy it. New world, fresh start?" he questioned, smile in his voice.

Jane mulled the choice over. He was right. New world, new start. Perhaps her innate need to help people would turn out better now that the world wasn't balanced on quite as thin of a knife as the Wasteland was. Besides, school could be fun again. Glancing at the wall, she looked at the 8 scratch marks on the wall.

"Fuck it, why not. Could be fun!" she cried. Ozpin frowned.

"Course language isn't permitted at Beacon." Jane lowered her head dramatically.

"You're not making this easy," she grumbled. Getting to her feet, she grinned when he backed up a half step. He didn't quite trust her. The intent was obvious. She would be watched. She wasn't home free just yet.

"I'll want my gear back, weapons and all," she started. Jane paused at the look that entered his eyes.

"What?" Growling, her hands curled into fists. Ozpin just replied calmly.

"While the gear you were arrested with is with us, the rifle like object you were using was never retrieved. After the cleanup occurred, we weren't able to locate it."

Surprisingly, Jane nodded, hands unclenching, a relaxed look on her face.

"To be honest, I was going to swap it out with something a little more heavy handed later on anyways." She glared at him. "But you're footing the bill."

Ozpin nodded. "Beacon has onsite facilities so that you might design and build various weapons. Students use the facilities to build or maintain the non standard weaponry they use to fight the Grimm.

Ozpin would swear for years that what he saw next scared him to his core. Across the woman's face leapt a look of sadistic glee. Crimson eyes alight, grey silver hair almost glowing with glee. It was the face of a madman unbound, of evil given shape.

It was also the face Ruby Rose got when describing her weapon.

"I think," she began, pure sadistic joy in her tone. "That this is the beginning of a wonderful partnership!" she laughed, exiting the room, leaving Ozpin to fear what he had unleashed upon the world.

"Damn, another weapon's freak," he muttered, stepping swiftly, following the Wastelander.

In the coming months and years, he would find himself wondering if what he did was right, bringing this figure from another world into Remnant.


I do not own RWBY or Fallout 3. All works belong to their respective creators.

Yes, shorter chapter. Next one will be larger.