She walked down the hall, bright lights illuminating the faded blue hallways. Massive pressure doors lined the residential area. The paint was fading, chipped and cracked in some areas, revealing the pale grey metal underneath.

Row after row of doors, some open, revealing the residents within. Large windows revealed the interiors, some families sitting around a radio, others playing games.

Her white hair was tired behind her head, a red baseball cap covering her eyes. Her vault suite was tight, just a size small. The suite dispensers were malfunctioning so getting a new one was going to take a while until they were fixed.

She was approaching the classroom. 15, only a year until the GOAT exam. Honestly, she didn't give it much thought. It was just a test. Nothing to fear. People might make a big deal of it but nothing held her interest.

She turned a corner, heading for the classroom. Her eyes widened when a fist flew towards her face. Unable to react, she tumbled backwards, a soft cry escaping her lips.

She was aware of laughing, a group, maybe 4 or 5 people. Blood trickled down her nose and over her cheek. Her hat had fallen from her head. One hand was on her nose, trying to stem the blood flow.

Using her other hand, she pushed herself up, wobbling slightly on her knees.

"Stupid freak fell like a sack of bricks!" She cracked an eye open, free arm bracing herself against the wall.

4 figures stood there, familiar black jackets overtop their blue jumpsuits.

The Tunnel snakes. A gang that currently dominated the younger vault population, made of a few of the more brutal kids in her age group.

Butch Deloria was the leader, his slicked back hair constantly kept in check with a prodigious amount of oil and a switchblade comb.

Freddie Mack was his second in command. Significantly slighter in build, he had a more reedy form to him, compared to Butch's heavily muscled physique. A couple others were in the group, sniggering.

Jane wiped one arm across her face, smearing the blood across her forearm. Her eyes narrowed, looking at the group. For years she had been ridiculed, called names because of her unusual eye and hair color.

Everyone had either dark blond or brown hair with hazel eyes, the result of 200 years of no genetic diversity. Comparatively, he white hair and red eyes made her different. And it had been the main source of jokes, pranks, and overall bullying over her life.

Her eyes narrowed, glaring at them. Several times they had done this now, jumped her and beaten the snot out of her. Leaning down, she grabbed her hat, stuffing it back onto her head.

Stepping forward, she attempted to shoulder past the gang, only to be pushed back by Butch. The other two stepped behind her, creating a makeshift human barricade. Her escape cut off she spaced her feet, hands clenched.

"Oh, so the little freak is going to fight us?" Butch laughed. She was a smaller girl at 15, topping out at maybe 5 foot 4. Based upon her father she might get taller, but she wasn't holding out any hopes.

"So what now, you going to beat me up again?" she spat, saliva mixed with a small amount of blood. It struck the ground, a shining spot on the wall.

Butch didn't respond, instead stepping forward with his fist cocked. Jane brought her arms up to defend her face, thinking he was going to strike her face.

Instead, a blow to her stomach caused her to double over, a breathless gasp escaping her mouth. A second blow followed up on the back of her head. Her feet gave out, vision swimming as the floor rushed up.

Curling into the fetal position, she coughed, arms clutched around her stomach. She felt her stomach convulsing, trying to retain some of the food she had eaten for breakfast today.

Another kick, this time at her back. Arching backwards, she screamed. Unlike her stomach, a kick to the back was far different. The stomach would absorb the blow more, spreading it around the sensitive flesh. The back was a solid surface with minimal protection. It was far sharper, far more focused.

Another kick, this one to her shin.

A punch to her shoulder.

Something hard impacted her. Must have been Mack, he had fashioned a pair of knuckle dusters.

A foot stomped on her hand, breaking two fingers.

The beating continued, causing bruising, some broken bones on her hands, lacerations and internal bleeding. She curled up, covering her face. It was several minutes later that the beating finished, the gang leaving her to her suffering. Waiting for them to leave. She listened as their laughter faded, footsteps echoing down the hall, until at last there was nothing.

Slowly getting to her feet, Jane held her broken hand to her chest, blood dripping quietly onto the floor, drowned out by the ambient noise of the ventilation system and power conduits. Stumbling back where she came, she headed towards her room, class forgotten.

The door sliding open with a whoosh, she ignored her father, his grey white hair brushed back, clean vault lab uniform covering a faded blue jumpsuit.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" he asked, not looking away from the desk. The terminal had a small hourglass picture spinning slowly. Numerous experiments littered the desk, test tubes and beakers filled with water and chemicals and glowing substances. Nearby sat a medical kit overflowing with surplus radaway.

"There was a fight, I got injured." She was a sorry sight, blood matting her hair and arms. Her short height compared to her father, who managed to tower over most people even sitting down.

"And you've come crawling back to patch yourself up have you?" he asked, tone never changing. She flinched, having heard that tone before.

"Father-"

"Silence." His voice adopted a deeper tone, compared to her higher pitch.

"This seems to be a weekly thing at best. At least you haven't come crying this time. Medical supplies are in the infirmary. I expect you to be back in class for the afternoon block. Don't disturb me."

His voice never changed, his hands never stopped moving, doing whatever to the vials and beakers on the desk.

A shaky breath and she continued to the door on the side, entering the infirmary. There was a larger hospital in the central area of the vault, but during the off hours there was one located in the residential district located adjacent to the vault doctor. It allowed for rapid treatment during the quiet hours.

The door sliding shut behind her, she used her good hand to grab the medical supplies from the cabinet. Placing them on the table, she grabbed some gauze, alcohol wipes and other supplies, placing them on the table. Easing herself down, she stripped the upper part of her jumpsuit off, grabbing the heavy duty wrap, preparing to bind her ribs.


Awareness came back to her violently. Some described regaining consciousness as a slow thing, as if a warm blanket was being pulled away from them slowly. Like taking a drink of cool water when too warm.

Jane wasn't sure if that was true, but she had never experienced it.

She was aware of pain, her limbs were on fire, they felt like thousands of knives stabbed into her limbs. Molten lead in her veins. A horrendous pain tore through her gut, the fire of radiation and the coolness of metal. Her eyes felt fuzzy, she couldn't see straight.

She was aware of a scream tearing through her throat, a hoarse and dry thing. Fluid flew in tiny droplets, possibly saliva, more likely blood.

There was shouting around her, indistinct. A jab in her shoulder, warmth flooded her system. She felt her heart rate jump. Blood pumped, flying around her system. Pressure on her stomach, causing the pain to surge.

"3, 2, 1!" A ripping sound, the cold feel of steel in her stomach vanished, replaced with even more pressure, a hot feeling now.

"Put her to sleep!" Another needle, more of the hotness in her arm. The warmth didn't move much past her arm. There was a reason why, but she couldn't remember.

"Hold her!"

"Why?" That voice was younger, familiar.

"Just do it!" Hands threw themselves on her shoulder. Strong hands held her down. Was she convulsing? She hadn't noticed.

"Now!" Something plunged into her chest. Sharp, thin, cold. Warmth flooded from her chest, heat making its way into her blood stream. Her movements slowed, all the feeling and sensations slowing down. Was she dying? The last fragments of conscious thought left her, her mind drifting away.


A soft beeping echoed. Every half second. She wasn't wearing her armor. Its familiar heft wasn't present. Some light fabric was stretched over her, what felt like a sheet on top.

She cracked an eye open, immediately closing it. Blinding light filled her retina, causing her to flinch. Everything felt sluggish. Slow moving. Bracing herself, she opened both eyes, screwing the consequences.

It was bright, but more manageable. There was a ceiling, brown wood arching upwards. Tall stain glass windows. A hospital room. Much fancier than the Citadel. Much nicer than the Vault.

Looking to the left, she took in the view.

A figure sat there. Long blond hair, tight brown vest. She looked familiar.

Yang? Now why the hell would a member of her team be here? If she could she would have snorted. Team. The concept was still stupid. But Ozpin had said it. And she couldn't turn down the excellent food.

She looked down.

A bandage wrapped around her torso, visible just because of the angle. Dried blood was on a small portion, a single line of it. Some kind of stab wound? She looked around. Nobody else seemed to be present. Were they taking shifts?

Now here was a question. Where were her clothes?

"What the hell happened?" she grumbled, using her arms to prop her self up. The movement caused the blond to notice her.

Reaching up to her ears, Yang removed some weird yellow cables that were hooked into her ears. She'd have to ask about that.

"Jane!" She winced at the noise. Just a little too high pitched for her liking.

"Yeh, I'm pretty sure it's me," she replied, wincing. "What exactly happened to me?"

"Well, you were dueling Mercury, which by the way was awesome! That fight was incredible! You were kicking ass!" Jane frowned, looking at Yang. She seemed overly excited for a fight which barely lasted 5 minutes.

"And?" she asked. Yang coughed, regaining some of her composure.

"Well, there was some kind of accident. We're not sure what happened, but the ammunition Mercury kept in his leg detonated inside the magazine, blowing his leg clean off. That pushed you into the swirling cloud of doom and caused everything to explode. Fortunately, both his legs are fake, so he's ok, just some bruising."

Jane nodded, those events matching up with her memory. "And what happened with me?"

Yang quieted, not sure how to proceed. Jane watched her fidget slightly. Well," she began, drawing out the voice.

Jane only glared at her, wincing slightly when she breathed.

"The explosion threw you against a wall. It was high enough that nobody noticed. Your sword followed apparently, which, uh…" Jane motioned a hand, waiting for her to continue.

"The sword kinda speared you to the wall. The lightning generator in the sword must have kept you awake. We all kinda panicked when you fell from the ceiling, most lost their lunches when you drew the sword back in. Half the population still think you tried to kill yourself." Yang looked a little green even just recounting the experience.

Jane nodded. Made sense. Her wound was long enough, it fit. Wouldn't be the first time she had stabbed herself with that silly thing. Although, this was a first in terms of how bad it was. Looks like it might have nicked the spinal column.

"Where did my stuff go? Pretty sure I didn't fight in this paper dress," she laughed, stopping when her wound hurt. Yang didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Where's my stuff?" she repeated, voice firmer this time.

"Unfortunately it had to be cut away."

Jane turned her head, while Yang's head snapped upwards, seeing the new voice.

Headmaster Ozpin himself strode into the room, cane in hand and coffee in the other.

"The explosion did more than was originally thought. Obviously the sword was one problem, but the residual effects from the detonation had other problems. Your armor was scorched and had to be cut away. There are some residual first degree burns on your legs, but nothing that can't be fixed. Unfortunately most had to be cut away."

Jane cursed. "And my pistol?" she asked. Ozpin grimaced.

"Well, the explosion superheated the metal and impact on the wall shattered it. I am afraid the only one that made it out was your sword."

Jane flung her head back against the pillow. "And the armor?" A short period of silence.

"The helmet was fine, as well as the gloves and boots. The rest couldn't exactly be saved." Jane cursed. It was like this land was determined to strip her of everything she had carried in DC.

"Of course, like your gun, Beacon has many facilities to support our students, including the fabrication plants. They should be of use for you." Jane nodded, too pissed to answer. Instead she turned to Yang.

"Would you tell Ruby to finish my gun? Lord knows I need some good news," she grumbled. Yang nodded, bringing out her scroll, typing away. Texting. She would need to learn the mechanics behind that.

"Could I speak privately with you Ozpin?" questioned Jane. Ozpin looked around, seeing that there was only Yang in the room.

"Ms. Long, if you would kindly assist your sister with Ms. Freewrite's weapon? Perhaps see about cleaning up her sword?" he questioned. Yang only nodded. Leaving with a 'get better soon' she left through the nearest door, heading towards wherever Ruby was.

When the door closed, Ozpin turned to Jane.

"And how might I help you today?" he asked, taking a sip. Jane composed her thoughts.

"Mercury isn't what he seems. Are you aware of that?" He cocked his head, taking another sip.

"He's a killer. More than that, he probably revels in it. Murder, killing. Definitely no student."

Ozpin nodded, thinking. The silence stretched on between the two, steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound.

"I had expected something like that. After the breach, I knew things were moving into place. There's a hidden agenda somewhere. Some grand plan that I am struggling to figure out" A scowl overcame his face, as if the very act of thinking about it made his coffee taste worse.

"So what's the plan? He's at least exposed, so whatever he's up to he can't do nearly as much. What are you going to do about his pal Cinder?" Ozpin frowned.

"Cinder?" he questioned.

"Yeh, ran into her with Ruby there. She's got the same air about her. Definitely has some kind plan. I would assume they are working together in some respect?"

His eyes narrowed. Setting his coffee on a nearby table, he clenched his cane in two hands.

"I need to deal with this. Take care Ms. Freewrite, the doctor says you should be out in a day. You heal remarkably fast." Jane nodded.

"How long was I out?" she asked conversationally. Ozpin checked his scroll.

"Only a day. The sword managed to miss anything too vital, although you did lose a fair bit of blood." Nodding, Ozpin turned and left, leaving Jane to her thoughts.


4 items sat on the table.

A Shocksword, over 200 years old and still working. Belonging to a great Chinese General before his death. Gold handle and dark greenish blue blade. Quite nice.

A helmet. Slightly burnt, another optic cracked. The gas mask was functional, although she needed more filters. The helmet needed a few dents hammered out and could do with new paint. It needed fixing. And possibly stronger optics.

Her gloves. While they were saved, it was a bit of an over estimation.

The built in knuckle dusters needed repair. The carbon fiber mesh needed replacement, the fire having scorched it. Edges were frayed, metal warped. Honestly she wondered what the rest of it looked like if this was good condition.

The boots were relatively fine, only needing some metal fabrication. Although, looking at the pair of boots again, she began to pick out problems. Rivets were worn or missing, the fabric and leather was cracked, and the sole was quite worn.

"So basically the sword and mask is ok. The rest needs work. A lot of work." She rubbed her eyes.

"Fuck. And the gun was just finished. It's not fair." Turning to the rest of the fabrication room, she took stock. Pip-boy was wired up to a monitor, displaying a much larger version of the screen. Another monitor, this one with the fancy writing pens for it, had schematics of a few different things, ranging from armor to clothing to weapons. Walking over to the large monitor, her pip boy operating system displayed, she navigated to the system memory, flicking through the songs. Selecting a classic, she turned the volume up, listening to the upbeat sounds of 'Anything goes' to get her into the mood for working.

Scratching the healing injury on her chest, she grabbed a glass of water, the fluid stained yellow and mysterious particles of something floating around somewhat. Thanks to her unique ability to heal in the presence of radiation, many a time raiders had her pinned, thought wounded, only to get back up in perfect health.

Taking a swig, she grimaced at the taste, matter particulate scratching her throat. The burning sensation of radiation filled her, the wound reduced to a mild itching. Putting the glass down she turned to the fabrication machines.

"Right. How does this thing work again," she pondered, looking at the confusing interface. Give her a command prompt terminal any day of the week. Graphical user interface. Weird stuff. Actually, she might have something better.

"Liberty? You listening?" she called out. The music dimmed, and a deep, gravely voice filled the room. The monitor took on a red hue, a single red line overlaid across the center.

"Affirmative Madam President!" Jane snorted. Reprogramming an insane AI to follow her orders was tricky. She decided upon just giving her the presidential status. It worked.

"Send a text to Ruby, I require her assistance in the fabrication labs," she drawled, head tilted, gazing at the schematics.

"Affirmative! Delivering message of freedom to Subject: Ruby!" Jane nodded, happy that her insane communist hating AI could double as a secretary.


Ruby chewed her pencil. Around her sat the rest of the team, in various states. She herself was working on homework, one of the last assignments for the week. Yang and Weiss were playing a game of Risk, although it could more be compared to a literal slaughter. Blake was nose deep inside a book, reading happily under a beam of sunlight.

Ruby's scroll was in her skirt, low powered state conserving charge. She stared at the page, hoping the words would come to her, so that she might write an essay about the non-evolution of Grimm.

Her eyes lit up, an idea coming to mind. Just as she was about to strike pen to paper, an idea on how to proceed, she felt her scroll buzz, a soft beep coming from it. She briefly thought about answering it, but it probably wasn't important. Starting to write her paper out, she ignored her scroll when it beeped again.

A third time and she sighed, throwing her pen down. Blake observed her, raising an eyebrow. Weiss and Yang had taken a brief reprieve to stretch, the former taking not of Ruby's irritation.

Pulling out her scroll, she pulled the slides on either side. Seeing she had a message, she opened it. An audio file? Meh. Pulling out her earphones, she put them on, not wishing to disturb the relative silence of the library.

"MADAM PRESIDENT HAD ORDERED YOU TO REPORT TO THE FABRICATION BAYS! PLEASE PROCEED AT ONCE!"

Wincing at the noise, she involuntarily flung her earphones off her head, the volume still quite loud. The headphones hit the table, messing up the carefully arrayed game pieces.

"Watch it you dunce! I was winning!" cried her partner. Yang snorted.

"No you weren't. You were maybe 3 turns away from losing," bragged Yang, leaning back in her chair. Weiss looked at the board, trying to figure out how that was possible.

"Why did you throw your headphones?" inquired Blake, only half paying attention. Ruby grabbed the headphones off the table, stashing them in her cloak.

"Some prank message or something. Wanted me to go to the fabricators," she replied, swiftly checking the contact details.

"Huh, it's Jane." The three looked up at that. Since Jane had been discharged from the infirmary, the team had taken measures to get to know their new teammate, both at the behest of Ozpin and Ruby, they had chatted with the woman. Despite that, they still didn't know a whole lot, questions being answered with half truths and redirection.

"What does she want?" Weiss still hadn't warmed up to Jane, although it was somewhat in doubt if any of them had. Yang didn't trust Jane, but Ruby did, and Yang trusted Ruby, so there was that. Blake somewhat understood where Jane was coming from, but she couldn't help but feel on edge around the wastelander, despite whatever her conscious thoughts were.

Weiss didn't like the woman on principle, mostly because she was an antithesis to herself. Refined and cultured, vs Jane's rough and simplistic.

"Well, doesn't say. Hope she doesn't need help with her gun, just finished it last night," she mumbled. Packing up her books, a little irritated that she was being interrupted during her school work. Waving to her teammates, she headed towards the basement of Beacon, where the facilities were located.


It was a week since she started, and Jane was still working. After Ruby had helped her figure out how to use the machines, and provided help on redesigning a handgun for Dust compatability.

A week since she sat there, rebuilding her armor and her weapons, re-forging her sword to eliminate some inconsistencies 200 years of age could cause on simple steel.

Wiping her hands on an oil stained cloth, she leaned against a table, admiring her work. Her once clean grey shirt was covered in oil streaks and small tears. Her eyes were tired but shining. Nearby there was a pot and a cup full of this 'coffee' that had garnered her interest so much. It had existed in the Old World, and in the history texts, and in fond memories in the Vault, but she herself had never had it. It was a wonderful substance, and she feared it's mere presence would make sure she never had thoughts of returning to DC.

Casting away the thoughts of her old home, she instead focused on her armor and weapons.

The under suite was composed of black pants and a tight fitting jacket. The legs and torso were fitted with lightweight armor plates made of Dreadnought battle plate, whatever that was. The torso area was designed with a few smaller plates on her abdomen, meant to protect her fleshy stomach. A belt held multiple pouches, containing first aid supplies, ammunition, field maintenance kit and other such things.

Overtop the iconic storm coat, infused with dust at the behest of, oddly enough Weiss, made sure to protect her against Dust based attacks, as well as enhancing her already formidable capabilities. The same armor plates were on the back, shoulders and forearms. The fabric portions of her armor were black, while the armor plates were dark grey trimmed in silver. The gloves were the same material, but with heavy knuckle dusters sewn into the material, as well as a heavier armor plate on the back of the hand.

Her boots were more or less the same idea. Hard rubber sole provided traction, while the knee length material made sure to support her ankle. The same armor plates were located on the front of her legs as well as the outsides of the boots, while bright metal silver caps toe caps made sure to attract attention.

Her helmet was the only part that hadn't changed much. The metal shell was remade from the same metal as her armor, while the mask had its optics once again replaced. On the table beside it all lay a few items. The first was a sack that would hang from one shoulder and lay across her waist, making sure she had extra ammunition and supplies.

Her sword was different. The blade was the same, but made with a different metal, this one heavier than usual. The handle was made from the old blade, it's mass giving enough room so that she could add a handguard. The same assembly was built in allowing the blade to be charged on command.

Next was her sidearm. The pistol had changed dramatically.

While the 10mm used a rather small round with a fair bit of powder to propel it to lethal velocities, her examinations into Dust had revealed some interesting things.

A single grain of dust powder was equivalent to about 7 or 8 grains of gunpowder. But, only a couple of grains were needed to both propel a bullet. A side affect of this Dust though was bullets using a special blend would take on the characteristics of the propellant. Ergo, red dust makes explosive bullets.

So she had been forced to delve deep into her archives, figuring out what to do. Eventually she had come to a choice. The round would have the same physical dimensions as a 20mm round, but a much smaller casing. The round itself was designed with more emphasis on the effects of the Dust than armor penetration.

The gun itself ended up looking large, brick like and bulky, but with the added bonus of firing the equivilent of a frag grenade at subsonic velocities. It was about twice as large as her old pistol, but it would more than suffice.

And finally, she grinned at the final item on the table. The biggest change, and something that she would have to get used to. If her shotgun could be likened to an autocannon, firing modified rounds much larger and harder than expected, then this was the equivalent between a .22 handgun and an anti material rifle.

The gun was a modified MG34, the designed scavenged from the history of war museum in the wasteland. The removable barrel had been replaced with a single unit, the barrel length actually ending up slightly shorter because of it. The belt feeder had been changed, using a longer bullet to get better range and penetration. The belts themselves were kept in her shoulder sack. It might chew through ammo, but damn did it work well. Besides, she implemented a burst fire mode allowing for less of a spray and pray system.

And of course a few shorter knifes were created out of scrap metal, things she could stuff down the side of her boots, in her sleeves, on her belt. The largest one was about a foot and a half long, sliding along the length of her leg into the boot.

Looking at the now clear monitor, she glanced at the red themed one. "Liberty, what's the time?" she asked, her voice tired.

"The time is currently 2335 hundred hours ma'am!" replied the somewhat homicidal AI. Jane hummed at that. Grabbing the duffel bag next to her, she stuffed the gear into it, leaving her gun and sword out because of size restrictions. Slinging that over her back, she grabbed her pip boy, shouldered the sword and gun and proceeded to head towards the lockers, where she was required to keep her gear.

Arriving at hers, she tapped the six digit code, the door opening. Throwing the duffel bag inside, she carefully placed the gun and sword inside on the provided mounts. A stray thought occurred to her, remembering an instance in the wasteland.

Reaching into the duffel bag, she grabbed the pistol, making sure it had ammo. Satisfied, she stashed it in her waistband, her shirt riding overtop concealing it from view.


It was late, obviously, the shattered moon was broken, hanging in the sky, a metaphor for the world below. Striding down the hall, Jane headed towards her room, the white moonlight intersecting her path every 4 feet.

She turned the corner, a single beam lancing down the hallway, revealing a presence. Ruby was leaning against her door, hood pulled up. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, arms holding them close to her chest.

Jane paused, hand reflexively reaching for her gun. Seeing it was a friend, she relaxed, striding forward. An irritated look overcame her face. It was late and all she wanted to do was go to bed.

"Might I ask why you're in front of my room?" she questioned, standing before the young girl. Ruby gasped, head snapping up. Jane could immediately see her eyes were bloodshot, evidence of her crying. Her face softened, voice changing tone.

Ruby seemed to be searching for words, her voice cracking slightly. A tense minute passed, where she only lowered her head again, hiding her face. Jane scratched her head, wondering how to proceed.

"You want to come in?" she asked, motioning for the door. Ruby only nodded. Sighing, Jane swiped her scroll against the lock, the door clicking open. The smaller girl wordlessly followed Jane in, the door closing softly. Gesturing towards a seat, Jane sat on the bed, watching the young leader.

"So what's bugging you?" she asked, fiddling with her pip boy. She was content to let the girl take her time, but if this went too much longer, she might have to provoke her.

"Why?" The question was soft, quite. So quiet that if she hadn't been expecting it Jane might have missed it. At her questioning look, Ruby continued.

"Why did you kill those people on the train?" Jane nodded, considering her response.

"You know why. Ozpin told you as much. It came down to us or them. They had no objection to killing us, so why should we afford the same mercy upon our enemies?" Ruby was silent at that, thinking how to respond.

"What you're losing sleep over is how easy it was, how I seemingly went ahead, with little provocation, and proceeded to kill the entire train." Her eyes widened, Jane having nailed the question that had been burning within her.

"Truth be told I don't love the act of killing." At her surprised look, she continued. "Don't get me wrong; I enjoy the thrill of battle, the adrenaline, the uncertainty of life or death. But I never start a battle with the intention of mass slaughter. I try to stay on the good side, doing the right thing." Leaning back onto the bed, she put her arm behind her head, looking at the ceiling.

"It get's easy after a while. Your first kill is always hard, you lose sleep over it, wonder how you could have prevented it. Where I came from, I didn't really have a choice. If I didn't kill, if I didn't make it easy, then I would die. So I got good at it."

The two of them sat in silence, Ruby processing what Jane had said. Jane herself went back to fiddling with her pip boy, doing seemingly nothing on it.

"Where did you come from?"

Silence. The only sound was the hum of the fans in the hallway, moving air through the building.

"I come from a different world," she replied simply. "Something that exists parallel to this one, a different reality, where the events in that world evolved differently than this one."

Ruby gaped, the previous events somewhat forgotten.

"What do you mean? How is that even possible?" she exclaimed, almost leaping to her feet.

"Well, the science is a little beyond me, but the basic principle is once you get small enough the classical rules of physics don't exactly apply. From there it's far easier to impress the will of man upon the world," she answered.

"A portal was made, designed to be a safe refuge in case of an inevitable war. The idea being the best bunker is a bunker that doesn't exist. Sadly it was never used, the war happening before its test."

Ruby nodded, connecting the dots. "That's when you found me?" she asked, the enthusiasm from before toned down.

Jane nodded. "Shortly after exiting the portal, I happened upon you and your predicament. The rest, they say, is history." She finished her sentence, mind remembering other things.

"What happened to your world?" she asked, probing further.

Jane didn't respond. Not sure how. Ruby was still innocent, her youth and naivety granting her a level of childishness that she was hesitant to expunge from the girl. There would be time for her to grow, to mature. Maybe in the future she could explain the details, but now, now she wouldn't need to know the details of her world, how a difference in ideology burned it in fire, scorching almost all life from the surface. How the radiation changed what was left, mutating it into vile, horrid beasts that could go toe to toe with a Grimm and probably come out on top. That man still continued to fight in the corpse of that world, still trying to stake a claim, become a ruler of a small patch of infertile land, unidentifiable from the patch next to it. No, best to keep her innocent a while longer.

"There was a war," she started. "It got bad, real bad. There wasn't a lot that could be done. There was too much hate, too much animosity on either side to reach some kind of conclusion." Ruby nodded, silent.

The two sat there, thinking into the night. It wasn't until some time later that Ruby left, her mind cleared. As she left she turned to Jane, mouth open.

"We're heading into Vale tomorrow, would you like to come?" she asked, voice hopeful. Her only response was Jane flinging a hand up, thumb pointing towards the ceiling. Smiling, Ruby left the room. The room was silent, with the exception of some mechanical clicks and hums from a wrist mounted computer. A few seconds later, music began to play.

'I don't want to set the world on fire!'


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

So it's a day or two late, but I was trying to get this right. Next chapter things will get more interesting.

Also, a response to the review by 'Just some guy', an anonymous review.

I am, as you can guess, somewhat new to this fanfiction writing. I'm mostly doing it as a pass time in the evenings. So forgive me if I happen to use a few cliché's in my writing. I happen to appreciate your review, as it let's me know what people might be thinking. That said, the comment at the end, about how the flashback scenes make you want to vomit, is completely uncalled for. It is one thing to provide criticism about a work, pointing out where a writer has gone wrong. It is quite another to insinuate that my literary work makes you physically ill. I'll let the review stand, as I believe censoring something petty like this proves nothing, but I would appreciate that if you decide to review again, that you grow a pair and fucking use an account.