Why did none of you comment on that last opening? She made a nuke while the mutants below didn't even touch her! I'm building up to something here. Speculation on the plot is appreciated.
It was dark, the sun having set several hours ago. The wasteland was buried in darkness, the constant dust cloud obscured any moonlight or starlight, shrouding the entire world in darkness. Here and there lights drove the darkness back, fires from camps, the glow of the Citadel being the most obvious.
In the ruins of the city moved a group of people, yellow flashlight beams carving into the darkness, illuminating the area around them. Five of them, dressed in black combat armor, a small white emblem on their chest.
Assault rifles kept at the ready, flashlights glowing, they moved slowly and carefully, moving with a military precision. They moved in a loose wedge formation, the one at the front clearly being some kind of leader. The two beside him kept the left and right protected, while the last two covered the rear. There were no words, no signals. They moved with a purpose, and it showed.
Given a contract by an unknown benefactor, this squad was tasked with eliminating a problem in the wasteland. Talon company, a rather well known mercenary organization for hire, wasn't a stranger to these kind of contracts. Their target however, was quite a bit different.
The Lone Wanderer.
More than a few people would want her dead, her habit of walking into a place and eliminating the local criminal groups made sure of that. Psychopathic tendencies and her supernatural ability to not die resulted her in having quite the bounty.
The leader raised his fist, signalling the group to stop. Two of them took a knee, maintaining guard position. One hopped up on a large chunk of rubble, attaining an elevated position for lookout. The leader and one other pulled out a sheet of paper, flashlight aimed at it.
"There's been a sighting of her here, in the Westerland building. We'll get Richards to scope it out. If she's there we'll strike at dawn." The colonel, an older man with a scraggly beard and stringy hair, pointed towards a crossed off location on the map. The figure across from him, a rather thick jawed male in his late twenties nodded.
"Why didn't we strike a few weeks ago? Wasn't that when the job was taken?" he asked, packing the map up. The colonel responded, his gravely voice quiet.
"Yes, but she apparently traveled to a place called Point Lookout with that river barge. Impossible to get to without the boat. Rumor has it when she got back she killed the owners and sunk the boat on the dock." The younger man didn't respond, already bringing up his gun. Checking the 3 other men, he paused, a note of fear entering his voice.
"Where's Richards?" At once the group snapped their rifles up, looking. Richards, whom was perched upon the rubble, wasn't there. A silent hand motion and the group spread out, circling the rubble. Reaching the other side, the colonel paused, seeing the building across the street.
"There's a light inside that building. Small, but it might be Richards. Proceed slowly," whispered the colonel, taking point. The 3 remaining mercs moved towards the building, one of the many that didn't have doors, it's form long since obscured from the rest of the buildings around it. A nameless structure that didn't have a name beyond the map in their pockets.
Entering the building, the group steeled themselves. A cold chill had overcome them, as if they had stepped into the territory of a Deathclaw. Lingering sweat chilled on their necks, hands tightened on the guns. They were not welcome here. And yet, at the end of the hallway, there was a light. Now it was more obvious it was a flashlight of sorts.
Waving his fist forward, the colonel directed his second up towards the room ahead. It was the 7th room from the entrance, the rest shrouded in darkness. The flashlights on their guns helped illuminate the hallway, but the omnipresent darkness was everywhere else.
The merc slowly moved up, scanning every room he walked by. They must have been offices, since the scan wasn't too long, each room taking maybe a few seconds. Behind him another merc moved up, staying 7 feet behind. Finally the first merc reached the illuminated room. Pressing his back against the wall next to it he seemed to take a breath, preparing himself.
Jumping to the left, the colonel saw the merc sweep the room, looking down. Turning back, the merc had a confused expression on his face.
"It's his gun, but no Richards!" he elaborated.
A black clad arm flew from the room, grasping the merc by the neck. With tremendous force it hauled him back into the room, the unexpected force causing him to drop his gun. From a distance it looked like the force pulling him in managed to overcome the force of gravity, as his feet left the ground.
The rest of the squad, now down to three people, shouted, moving up quickly. Each covered each other's back, making sure they couldn't get snuck up on. Rapidly entering the room, they scanned every inch of it.
Neither Richards nor the other merc were present, instead the two weapons lying on the ground. Scanning the area yielded no results, the small room having no other exit available. The colonel's mind was buzzing, trying to figure out what was happening.
"Alright! Come out with your hands up Wanderer and we won't pump you full of lead!" he shouted, stealth long forgotten. Heading back into the hall he continued to sweep his gun, the two other's following him. Checking the next room, he gagged, stumbling backwards.
Richards was hanging from the ceiling, upside down. His armor had been stripped and his neck cut, last traces of blood flowing out of his body. Somehow in the intervening seconds the assaillent had managed to not only hang but strip Richards in the previous room, all without them hearing. It chilled him to the core.
"Jesus fuck," mumbled another merc, one hand over his mouth. Trying not to look, the colonel grabbed a knife. Passing it to the guy beside him he merely pointed towards Richards.
"Cut him down," he forced, trying not to gag again. Wordlessly the man took the knife, walking into the room.
BAM!
A shotgun blast rang out from inside the room, deafening him. The young man's head exploded, buckshot tearing through his skull like wet cardboard. Like a sack of bricks he hit the ground, his neck ending in a stump.
The remaining two leveled their guns, pulling the triggers. Round after round fired into the room, leaving nothing unscathed. Richards was almost bisected by the rounds themselves, neither remaining mercs willing to potentially miss the figure stalking them.
The gun next to him stopped, probably for a reload. The colonel kept firing, not letting his trigger go until the magazine was dry. Quickly slamming another into the weapon, he cocked the mechanism back, chambering a round. A stray thought occurred to him. They were both using the same gun, so why did his run out earlier?
Head snapping to his right, he pushed himself away, screaming.
The last remaining merc in his squad had a 2-foot knife buried in his skull, entering from below the chin and angled straight upwards into the brain.
"Fuck this!" he screamed, sprinting for the exit. Running like a madman, he loosely pointed his gun behind him, firing indiscriminately. He could see it almost within his grasp, just a few feet away, when something impacted his ankle, causing him to stumble to the floor.
Converting his fall into a roll, the colonel managed to spin around, leveling his rifle at whatever might be chasing him.
There was nothing. No demonic entity, no Deathclaw, not even a rad roach. He considered continuing his escape when a force impacted his chest, throwing him several feet back, landing outside on the rubble.
"Gah shit, what the fuck was that!" he moaned, feeling several ribs that were probably cracked. Looking towards the building, he froze.
A figure swathed in black, with a large gun hidden beneath a storm coat. A sword strapped to the other side, a relic from days long past. Glowing white optics which seared into his soul.
The Lone Wanderer
Slowly she stalked forward, a languid pace dictating to the extent upon which he was well and truly fucked. The reason he had taken a 5-man squad was so that superior numbers would win. Sadly, she had killed all of them. Men he had worked with; men he had formed partnerships with. And now they were dead.
His gun wasn't on him, it having been ejected several feet before him. He felt a warm stain spread from his groin when she stepped on his gun, the weapon somehow shattering beneath her feet. Components that weren't even attached shattered, the gun almost dissolving into the cracked pavement.
She pulled a knife from her belt, a simple combat knife with a serrated edge. Reaching him she kneeled down, as if to stab him up close. Fist closing around a rock, he brought it up, smashing the chunk of rubble against her helmeted head.
She stiffened, the rubble splintering against the metal of her helmet. Glancing at his still raised arm, she flicked her knife in the direction.
Instantly the feeling in his finger tips vanished. Confused, he could only watch with mounting horror as small red lines appeared around his knuckles. She reached over and tapped his palm, causing it to shift slightly.
His fingers fell from his hand, severed so cleanly the wound didn't bleed at first. He screamed, staring at his hand, now four finger short.
"Don't kill me! It was just a job! I wanna live!" She tilted her head at his statement, tears falling from his eyes. He cradled one hand close, as if trying to protect the stumps.
Instead of responding, she reached up to her helmet, loosening the straps binding it to her head. He watched, unsure of what was happening. Was she going to take of her helmet? To what end?
"Just kill me now you bitch! Don't drag it out!" he shouted, spittle flying. She just continued, unding another strap. With a swift tug it fell off, revealing her face.
Whatever fear he felt before was gone. Seeing his squad killed, butchered in front of him was nothing compared to the woman's visage.
Pale white skin, crimson eyes, silver hair. It was something from a book, a face that didn't look natural. In a world where the standard was tan skin and black hair, she stood out like a sore thumb. Her eyes, pools of crimson, looked dead, as if she wasn't there, stared at him, almost evaluating him, judging his worth.
Slashing her knife, she slit his neck, cutting the jugular artery in a single motion. He attempted to reach up and put pressure on the wound, but she had other ideas. Grabbing both hands, she instead placed them over his chest, one atop another. A downward strike and she had pierced his hands, pinning them to his chest bone. The knife was almost an inch deep, ruling out any possibility of him removing it himself.
Lacking his voice, bleeding out and with his hands now immobilized, he could only watch as she reached down, pressing her hand to his neck. Pressing deeply, she soaked it in the blood, making sure it was saturated. Bringing it up, he watched, his vision fading, as she breathed in the scent of his life blood, before smearing it across her face.
"Rejoice, for you will help America rebuild," she stated. His vision was fading, but he didn't miss the smile she gave him. Were it any other situation, he would probably be trying to smooth talk her into a night at his place. The presence of blood streaking her face and dead eyes still looking through him caused whatever part of him that lived to cry out in terror. A wet gurgled bubbled from his throat, accompanied by pink froth from his maw.
He could feel his life blood seeping away unhindered, his throat cut open like a steak. Looking at her, he felt his heart stop. He pupils widened, feet kicking uselessly as if to get him away from her and the thing that had appeared behind her.
It was tall, so much more imposing compared to him. Swathed in darkness, long arms and a terrifying appearance. His vision was fading, so it's form was smudged, but whatever it was, a deep, primal aspect of him cried out at the figure. This was no trick of the light, no terror striking at his mind at the moment of his death. No, this was something unnatural, something that shouldn't exist.
He tried to scream.
Jane ignored him, staring into the distance, a soft smile on her face. The figure below her spasmed a couple of times, trying to force air into his lungs but failing. A final, pathetic kick of his leg and he fell still, the light in his eyes dying.
Reveling in the high, Jane merely straddled the now dead man, basking in the thrill. A patch of overcast broke, letting the moon shine upon the earth, right where she was located. It shone light upon the dead colonel, lying with his hands crossed over his chest, gleaming silver knife buried in his hands. It displayed Jane, basking in the after effects of a hunt, having made Talon Company's job so much harder.
And it illuminated the figure behind her, standing over 7 feet tall, a nightmarish entity that gently put its hand on Jane's shoulder, as if urging her onwards.
Feeling an icy chill on her shoulder, frost creeping down her arm and up her neck, Jane grabbed her helmet, gently sliding it onto her head. Checking the straps, she got to her feet, stepping over the now dead colonel. Swiftly wrenching her knife from his chest, she cleaned the blade on his sleeve, before stowing it in it's sheath.
Leveling her shotgun, she proceeded down the street, looking for her next victim. Behind her, the entity followed, it's form dissolving into black flakes, taken away by the wind.
The airship gently curved through the air, rising higher and higher into the sky. A blend between a river boat and a more modern craft, it was used as a passenger system specifically for the Vytal festival. It could accommodate almost 30 passengers comfortably, 40 if they didn't mind bunching shoulders. The interior was simple, with panoramic windows and bench seating providing the passengers comforts. The trip wasn't that long, maybe a half hour at most, so there were few complaints.
Jane sat on one of the seats, half reading her scroll and half looking out the window at the looming Stadium, it's form only growing more and more massive. Seeing it from this angle she was simultaneously impressed and disgusted.
It was a statement, a symbol screaming of wealth and luxury. The large teal crystal formation below helped create an other worldly glow underneath, while the white walled building on top reminded her of the ancient Roman Coliseum from her old text books.
Nearby sat the rest of team RWBY, all chatting with one another. Ruby herself seemed interested with the various weapons that the other competitors might carry. Yang was focused on the competitors themselves, wondering how they would all match up. Blake and Weiss were talking about something; they were too quiet so eavesdropping wasn't possible.
Going back to her scroll, she viewed some news articles about the festival, hoping to learn a bit more. Apparently security this year was pretty tight, recent actions by the White Fang having provoked the Atlas military to increase its presence here for safety reasons.
Sliding the small yet wondrous device shut, she slipped it into her coat pocket, leaning back into the uncomfortable seat, feeling the motion of the craft. It reminded her of simpler times, when she rode in vertibirds, raining death and destruction from above upon the Enclave. A soft smile came to her face, remembering those times.
The airship jerked before coming to a stop. Her eyes snapped open, taking everything in.
"Shit, I fell asleep?" she grunted, rubbing an eye beneath her glasses. She was always a sucker for falling asleep in a moving object. Vertibirds were popular, but the odd caravan that let her rest on a Brahmin had done the trick.
Seeing people move for the exit, she walked over, joining her team. Ruby was quiet, her face thoughtful. Given the impending match the team had she wasn't surprised; Ruby was probably trying to figure out strategies and contingencies on how to combat the other teams.
Jane wouldn't be fighting, the proverbial fifth wheel making any team matchup impossible. So she'd sit it out, acting as a spare should any of the 4 be put out of commission. It wasn't glamorous, but it was more her style. If she tried to fight, her low Aura would be more of a liability than anything.
Yang seemed exuberant, almost hopping from foot to foot. Jane frowned, her mind conjuring an image of past days, when she helped train Knights, helped break that hot headedness from them.
"Yang, breath," she toned, putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder. She stilled, lilac eyes looking at Jane. She sighed at the confused look on the brawler's face.
"Calm down. Don't lose yourself in your eagerness to fight. I've seen too many accidents happen because somebody got cocky."
The younger girl nodded, a slight bit of uncertainty crossing her face.
"But how can you not get excited?" she asked, energy returning. "This is the Vytal festival! It's the biggest tournament in the world!" Jane clicked her tongue, eyes narrowing.
"Excitement is one thing, but emotions can get people killed. Breath. Understand the flow of battle. Don't let your emotions rule you or you will learn the hard way," she growled.
Yang merely rolled her shoulder, escaping Jane's hand. A scowl present on her face, she stormed forward, away from the group. Jane merely scrunched her brow in annoyance.
Feeling eyes on her, Jane turned, seeing Weiss staring at her.
Weiss was a bit of a conundrum. Jane immediately didn't like her because she fit all the pre-requisites for a snobby, holier than thou type of person. A person who believed themselves superior because of money or fame. The last group she had run into like that was all the way back in Tenpenny tower. Snobby assholes weren't so superior when she charged through that place with her hunting rifle, cutting them down like wheat before a farmer.
"Yes?" she growled, looking at the white haired heiress.
"Why are you helping Yang?" she asked, eyes alight in determination.
There was the other half of the equation. Despite filling all the criteria, Weiss was also something of a selfless individual. The rest of the team got along with her, and she actually tried to distance herself from her upbringing, forming relationships with her team and not abusing her family name for whatever purpose. The exact opposite of the residents of Tenpenny tower.
"Because," she started, releasing a breath. "Yang is a hot head, who enjoys the thrill of battle. She get's so hopped up on adrenaline she looses focus on a fight. The only reason she hasn't suffered for it is because of a frankly astonishing amount of luck." Conversation finished, Jane stepped forward, intent on getting a seat to watch the battle.
Weiss stared after Jane, her own thoughts on the same topic. She knew Yang was confident, too confident. She had tried to bring the topic up several times, but Ruby would only respond with her belief in Yang, childish belief that nothing could hurt her. Talking to Yang yielded less than impressive results.
Her level of respect for Jane rose, seeing the woman actually care somewhat for the rest of her team. Whether it was because of actual concern or not didn't matter, the fact that she made the effort was enough.
Seeing the stadium from inside reinforced her opinion of the establishment. An ungodly waste of money and resources for a mere 1-week contest of skill. They could have instead constructed 4 similar land based grounds in each kingdom, saved the money and made upkeep so much easier.
Sitting in the reserved seating, Jane observed the match. Team RWBY was battling it out, impressively if she had to admit. The 4 seemed capable in combat, covering each other's backs. Ruby taking up sniper support and dishing out damage cleanly. Idly Jane noticed an enemy combatant sneaking up on her.
"Idiots," she cursed. Either you firmly entrench a sniper on your side for a height advantage or you provide them a secondary. Blake was fighting somebody on some kind of hover board that doubled as a pair of pistols. The combat was a little fast paced, incorporating a lot of flips and twirls. Too much energy was being wasted in the acrobatics of the combat.
Weiss seemed to be the most interesting, her glyphs providing a distinct combat advantage. From what she had learned in the past couple of weeks, it enabled her to utilize her Dust and Aura to achieve several effects, from small scale teleportation all the way to manipulation of gravity on a local scale.
Yang was having the time of her life, duking it out in a fist fight with another close combat specialist. This person was using her Aura to augment her strength, while some kind of tensile string allowed for increased mobility.
"And there's Ruby, about to get a smack down," she mumbled, watching the staff wielder sneak up on Ruby. Almost counting down the seconds, Jane had a small grin on her face. A little bit of evidence that the team was still inexperienced.
Her grin faltered when Weiss used her teleport to kick the guy sneaking up on Ruby through her gravity glyph. Maybe she didn't give them enough credit. In her defence, Jane had worked alone for the length of her experience in the Wasteland, and it was an inherently different environment. Comparing these students, children basically, to her own standard wasn't quite fair. Besides, there were several advantages they had over herself when it came to this Aura stuff.
Her eyes flicked towards the railing, seeing a small amount of frost develop. Frowning, she continued to watch the battle. Yang was attempting to take out her opponent with minimal success. Weiss had trapped two of them in a crazy ice ball, while hover board girl, Reese was her name, had been ejected from the arena by Blake. It was now a 4 on 3 match.
"I hadn't seen you for a while, wondered where you went," she spoke offhanded, to nobody in particular.
The frost thickened slightly. A cold patch at developed next to her. She reclined deeper into the seat, it's presence almost familiar. Ever since coming to Remnant, she had wondered where the entity was, it's almost comforting chill not present. She had banished it from her mind, considering herself rid of the thing that followed her. Apparently it was taking its time.
Now that it was here she smiled softly. Having it back would greatly increase her combat abilities. A little supernatural power on her side often leveled a playing field.
Glancing towards the fight, she nodded, seeing team RWBY win. The remaining combatants were ejected from the arena rather explosively, slamming into the barrier. That counted as an automatic fail, forcing the disqualification of the opponents.
"Well, a win is a win," she voiced, standing up. Weird as the entire thing may be, she should at least congratulate her team on the victory. It would do to tell them of how they could improve, given that things would only get harder. As she walked forward, figuring out how they could operate better, she grinned when the cold spot shifted, following her.
"You sure this is safe?"
A nod.
Sniff
"Smells fishy."
"Was that a stab at my food choice?"
Jane looked from the shop keeper to Blake, whom was eating a comically large bowl of raw fish.
"No. Although that is somewhat sickening," she replied, hands gesturing vaguely towards her bowl. Blake pouted, but quickly forgot Jane in favor of bigger and better things.
Namely a bowl of fish.
Jane herself was looking at Weiss's bowl of noodles, mountainous as it was. She couldn't place it, but despite it looking fresh, and based upon the fervour that Yang and Ruby ate with, tasting fresh, something seemed off about the noodles. Looking towards the shop keeper she held up two fingers. The man nodded, zipping back into the backroom of the booth. A moment later he popped out with two glass bottles.
Next to them, Pyrrha was swiping her card on a register, paying for the collective meals of everybody. At her questioning glance, Jane shook her head, pulling out a few lien notes to pay for herself.
"If you can't buy your own beer, then there's really no point," she explained, pulling the metal cap off of her bottle, oblivious to the shop keeper holding out a metal bottle opener. Taking a long drought of the beverage, she smiled.
Crisp, cool, and slightly apple flavoured. Damn near American is what it was.
The rest of team JNPR was eating, enjoying the large bowls of noodles. Mark her words, those noodles weren't safe.
"So you're up next then?" she asked conversationally. She hadn't actually met the team before beyond the odd hello in the hallways. Besides rumors and hearsay, she didn't really know much about them.
Of course, Liberty hacking into the school administration gave her a report on each of them.
Jaune Arc, leader. Despite having lower than average combat capabilities, no long range option on his weapon, he was a fearless leader. A mind for strategy that could be considered omniscient, he functioned much better directing his team than actually participating in anything more than a support roll. Large reserves of Aura made him the designated Tank.
Pyrrha Nikos, his second in command. A three time winner of some local tournament in Mistral, she was exceedingly strong, being much more suited towards close range combat, but sporting a rifle in her spear that provided long range when needed. Despite being an obvious choice for leadership, Jane could see why Jaune was the leader. Pyrrha was more of a follower. Tell her to do a task and she would make sure it got done. She wasn't great at figuring out said tasks though, compared to her partner.
Lie Ren, probably the spiritual center of the group. He was something of a monk, utilizing bladed pistols and an incredible control of his somewhat below average Aura levels to devastate Grimm opponents. Sadly this didn't translate cleanly into more traditional combat. While still above average, he was more of an unhittable target, unable to truly dish out damage long term, but using speed and acrobatics to evade getting hit.
And of course, Nora Valkyrie. In a word, vibrant. She used a war hammer crossed with a grenade launcher to provide area of effect damage in the large scale. Her large Aura reserves and unique semblance allowed her to devastate opponents both Grimm and Human alike with laughable ease. Her only downside was the almost crippling amount of energy she had at every other moment of the day.
"Yup! We're facing team BRNZ in the team battles!" exclaimed the bombastic girl, having already finished her food. Ren wasn't too far behind, while Pyrrha and Jaune lagged behind, having hit what many would call 'the wall' in regards to consuming food.
"Any strategy planned?" asked Weiss, having finished. Jane did a double take, seeing the empty bowl next to her. Not even responding to the fact that the heiress somehow ate one half her body weight in pasta, Jane merely downed her beer, tearing the cap off the second. Again, she was oblivious to the shop keeper offering her a bottle opener.
"Jaune said not to talk about any strategy in public in case the enemy is listening!" exclaimed the hyper active girl, almost jumping to her feet. Leaning in, she half whispered, half shouted something towards Weiss and Jane.
"But secretly, we're going to break their legs!" Jane shuddered. The glee in that girl's eyes was far too familiar for her liking.
"Fair enough," replied Jane, taking a sip. Off handily, she noticed a girl in a toque walk by with a substantial amount of speed in her step.
"Always listening indeed," she replied, sipping again.
Conversation continued, the 9 of them talking about past fights, stories, families. Jane listened with interest to all of them, a calm sort of peace overtaking her. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the somewhat familiarity of the action, she wasn't sure, but it felt nice here.
A cold chill on her back brought her attention back.
Glancing around, she paused. The 8 of them were looking at her expectantly. Did they ask her something?
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she mumbled, sipping. Good beer though.
"We were wondering about you. Except for Ruby, who's not telling, we don't know a whole lot about you!" Jane looked at Yang, her lilac eyes alight. There was an angle here. There had to be. She wasn't the kind of woman that would let information go. But why, what would she do with it?
"Yang's hoping that she can make more of her terrible pun's," elaborated Blake.
"They are not terrible! You just cannot appreciate good comedy!"
Noticing her beer was empty, Jane pushed the empty bottle away. Good beer too. Wouldn't do to get drunk in front of all these impressionable youths though.
"I'm from far away," she answered cryptically. "If I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me." Seeing their questioning glares, and no sign of them ending, Jane sighed.
"I come from another world that destroyed itself in open warfare," she delivered bluntly, no inflection in her voice.
There was a pause.
Snort "Yeh right, sounds like the premise to a bad video game!" exclaimed Jaune. He was still working on his noodles. Weiss seemed to give up, instead staring at her denied credit card. Yang was laughing heartily, apparently the two blonds having something in common.
Ruby didn't say anything, knowing the truth of the matter. What surprised her was Nora, Ren and Blake, whom didn't laugh nor respond. Maybe they believed her? Nora did seem like the sort to pick up on unseen ques that even she might be broadcasting. Ren as well, although less so to an extent. He wasn't sure about Blake though.
WOULD TEAM JNPR PLEASE REPORT TO THE BATTLE GROUNDS IMMEDIATELY!
The unmistakable voice of Port echoed over the PA system, the people in the fair grounds looking around, wondering if said team was nearby. Almost as soon as the initial announcement was made, what sounded like Oobleck spoke.
LIKE THEY WERE SCHEDULED TO, SEVERAL. MINUTES. AGO.
Glancing at the team in question, Jane could only grin when they adopted a nervous set of expressions.
"Well we should be going!" exclaimed Pyrrha, having finished her noodles. While they seemed OK now, Jaune was looking somewhat ill. If it was slightly off noodles, or one third his weight in said food item she wasn't sure.
"Best of luck!" exclaimed Ruby, giving them a double thumbs up. The three members wandered on, while Jaune trailed behind, holding his stomach.
"Mark my words, those noodles were off," finished Jane, standing up. Her teammates just scoffed, replying that there was nothing wrong.
"Just because you know how it goes, doesn't make it any less interesting." A small pop, and the speaker had turned a kernel into popcorn. Ignoring the looks from her followers, Cinder sat down in the seat, intent on watching the battle. Sure, the entire thing was being orchestrated, but it was much like painting a picture and admiring it.
Leaning back into the seat, she watched as the members of team JNPR fought, the outcome already decided. BRNZ was a good team, they had to be, but a focus on brawler combat with only one long range option was almost useless in a combat scenario like this. It was a clever matchup, but designed for the best outcome.
A person sat down next to her. She was intent to ignore them, until they spoke.
"Hi there! We haven't met yet, Jane Freewrite, proverbial 5th wheel. Nice to meet you!" Her head mechanically turned towards the speaker.
Younger, maybe just below twenty. Silver white hair, soft skin, a pair of black sunglasses hid her eyes. She was dressed in a beige coat that traveled to her ankles, while a white shirt, black pants and brown leather boots completed the image.
Of course she knew who Jane Freewrite was. This was the person who had ruined her plans to use Mercury in the single's tournament.
"A pleasure," replied Cinder, slipping into her student persona. In front of her, she saw Mercury and Emerald tense up, as if expecting a fight.
Fools. To fight here would be to unwind everything she had built up. To fight now, in such a public place, would ruin everything.
"I actually came over here to apologize to Mercury for blowing up his legs! Good thing they were already mechanical!" The exuberance of the woman annoyed her. Were they anywhere else she might seriously consider just ending her.
"Oh it's no problem," replied Mercury. "I had a couple of spares for situations like that. Honest training accident." He waved off the apology, eating his popcorn.
Down below, the two teams were still going at it. The sniper fire from BRNZ was keeping JNPR suppressed. Suddenly Cinder wasn't interested in the fight.
"Of course," replied Jane, her voice dipping slightly. "Training accidents are terrible. They have a funny way of derailing things, don't they?"
Cinder blinked.
"Yeh, sparring was a bit hard while I was replacing the leg," he continued, apparently oblivious to Cinder. Emerald was torn between showing no interest and glancing at Cinder nervously.
"I can imagine. I should apologize though, something you obviously intended to keep a secret became public knowledge. I can understand wanting to keep secrets," she replied, a grin on her face.
Her amber eyes narrowed.
She knows something.
Down below on the field, Nora had leapt atop the mountain course, gaining oversight. Unleashing her grenade launcher, she fired six rounds at once, obliterating the forest biome in it's entirety. Small scale fires burned, but there wasn't a lot to burn in and of itself.
"Well, thought I would just apologize and everything. Sorry I didn't get to it sooner Merc!" Standing up she reached over, grasping his hand and shaking it. Leaning further, she grasped Emerald's, giving it a firm shake.
"We haven't met, I'm the girl who blew up his legs. Hope I didn't cause too much trouble between you two love birds," she smirked, leaning back. Ignoring the blusters between the two of them, Jane turned to Cinder, holding a hand out.
"It was nice meeting you-" she trailed off, awaiting a response.
"Cinder. Cinder Fall," replied the raven haired woman. Reaching for Jane's hand, she grasped it.
ColdcoldsocoldsocoldSOCOLDLIKEDEATHSUCKINGAWAYCOLDCOLD
Her hand flinched away at the contact. Jane's hand was like ice. Not a standard cold, like when working for long hours, but a deathly chill. A supernatural chill. Something that seemed to suck the life from her hand. It was barely a second but in that second she felt like she ran a mile.
"Are you ok?" asked Jane, concern on her face. Cinder just waved it off, making sure not to touch the unknown in front of her.
"It's fine, just a twinge," she lied, one hand rubbing her other, trying to breath some warmth into them.
"Well, I'll be leaving then," she stated, turning around. Cinder watched the woman walk away, heading for the exit. The fight didn't interest her anymore. Instead, this woman, Jane Freewrite, was the object of her attention. It would be hours before her finger's were anything close to warm.
"Find out everything about her," cut the half fall Maiden. Mercury and Emerald flinched at the tone, his popcorn jumping slightly.
As Jane strolled away, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her scroll. Turning the corner, she pulled it open, revealing Liberty.
"Liberty, we're getting involved."
I do not own RWBY or Fallout 3. All works belong to their respective creators.
So, hope you enjoyed that. I just have a couple of questions. First, please read and review, I like getting input back from you guys. I know for a fact there are several thousand people whom view this when I post a new chapter.
Second, would anyone be willing to draw Jane Freewrite for a cover image, perhaps as a commission? PM me if you're interested, with a link to some work you've done. Just a tiny request, but it's something I'd like for the story.
