Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, but I do own all OCs here.
City of Rust: Chapter 1
Several years ago, during The Great War…
The seas… not exactly the most pleasant thing you want to be in. True, there are nature's masterpieces, works of art surpassing that of any of Man's. But they're not just some mere sculptures on display, oh no. They're in constant motion, without aim or rhythm. And like any force of nature, they have the potential to kill and destroy.
Man isn't really into the arts these days. If anything, they're downright forbidden. Books, paintings, poetry, songs, sculptures… they're all regulated and controlled. At best, art was dead during those days. At worst, it was nothing more than mindless propaganda.
This soldier wasn't some fool, though. A tool, perhaps, but certainly not some blind weapon like the rest of his brothers in arms. He saw the corruption that plagued the world, the disease that was eating away at it. Alas, he doesn't possess the power or means to change any of that.
And besides, there were other pressing matters to attend to.
On the floorboards lay a grey-haired man, bearing fiery orange-red eyes. His armor was a gunmetal grey, with hints of silver. He bore a helmet over his head, hiding most of his features. Holstered on one side of him was a standard sword, the other a pistol. And right now, he was buried under a number of weapons.
He was examining the armory when something rocked the ship. He remembered falling to the ground face-first, then a sharp pain at the back of his head. When he awoke, here he was, tangled under maces and other heavy weapons. The world was a blur and his ears were ringing.
After a minute of struggling, he managed to pull himself out of the debris. The ringing got worse as he rose back onto his feet, but it subsided after a few seconds. Another sound entered his ears, though. No wait, not sounds…
Voices.
"Man down! Man down!"
Racing toward the source, he found himself starring into a gapping whole. He could make out countless ships beyond, ranging from across all of Remnant. They were all locked in combat, battering each other with cannon fire. Some of them went up in flames, others crumpled into the waves below.
He turned to notice an injured man nearby, clutching at his legs. Or rather, where the legs once were. There was some type of trail originating from the hole, carved between the two men. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened.
Beside the unfortunate fellow was an unarmored man, bearing a white uniform and coat. He was already bandaging the victim's wounds with his gloved hands, glowing with a faint flicker of Dust. He had some capsules of the substance holstered on his belt, each a different color. It was obvious that he was a medic.
The man rushed to the doctor, kneeling near his brother-in-arms. "Is he alright? The hell happened here!?"
The doctor glanced back at the soldier, rather surprised. "'What happen?'" He asked in disbelief. "What happened is that we're under attack!"
Everyone flinched as another cannonball burst through the wall, though thankfully nowhere near them.
"Who're we dealing with?" Asked the man.
The field medic shot him another look. "Against the whole world, who else? Everyone's strangling each other's throats out there. Have you been living under a rock or something?!"
"Under a bunch of heavy weapons, actually," Replied the other. "Got my head bashed in when the ship quaked. I'm gonna guess that the enemy's responsible."
"Yep," Said the white-garbed one. "Just about all of the Kingdoms stormed onto this ship. It's a slaughter house up ahead, every man for himself-"
"Put your hands up!" Came a third voice.
Everyone turned around to see some men behind the doctor. Several soldiers had just turned the hall and came before them. They weren't wearing their faction's usual garbs, so they couldn't be their men. Oh, and they were pointing their weapons at them.
Everyone did as the intruders said, putting their hands behind their heads. A shot went off from distance, striking one soldier in the back. When the others turned to investigate, the warrior leapt at them. He rammed his blade through one, breaking through his Aura shield. In a whirl, he knocked back another and sent a head flying.
Before the fallen could rise, he was gunned down by two more shots. Emerging from the dark was another of their comrades, clan in an armor very much like theirs. Beneath that helm lay sapphire hair and grey eyes. He knew his man all too well. This was his brother.
"Late to the party again, Fintan?" Laughed the savoir.
The awoken cracked a slight smile under his helmet. "I blame the guests," He replied. "What's the situation, Brook?"
The rescuer's tone came out stern. "Captain's boarded himself up in his cabin. Man can't man this ship with the enemy right at his doorstep. We're gonna have to plow a path for him."
"Then what're we waiting for?" Smirked Fintan. He turned towards the medic. "Think you can handle yourself while I'm gone?"
The man drew out a pistol of his own, nodding. The men left, weapons in hand. Slipping out of the hold and onto the deck, they found themselves in a world of chaos. Men from every known faction threw themselves into a bloody free-for-all. Bullets, Dust, arrows, and all other manners of weaponry clouded the skies above.
Of the combatants broke off from the brawl, noticing the two soldiers. He charged, blade before him. Fintan strafed around the man, the sword brushing against his armor a bit. He slashed at the man's back with his own, but the latter's Aura held up. A shot from Brook sent the enemy staggering back a bit, the grey-haired man sweeping his leg under him. The intruder toppled backwards, with the soldier burying his blade into the trespasser's stomach.
This caught the attention of more invaders, rushing into the fray. One was gunned down by the man's friend, lacking an Aura's shield. Another dodged the bullets, clashing blades with him. One tried to sneak up on him, only for the warrior to twirl his opponent around and use him as a living shield. The poor fool didn't last long, the other being having his head blasted off.
The ship rocked as cannon-fire collided into the hull. Some men were thrown overboard, into the bottomless blue below. Others were blown to bits, painting the decks red. Everyone else was being tossed around like ragdolls. Lucky for the two combatants, there were flung near the cabin. Unfortunately, it was already torn apart by the attack. Its occupant didn't fare so well either.
"Shit," Cursed Brook as he saw the bloody mess.
"So much for Plan A," Sighed the other man. "Any ideas for a Plan B?"
The blue-haired man turned towards his comrade. "We retake the ship ourselves." He said.
As luck would have it, the bridge wasn't that far away from them. Only problem was that a Dust user was blocking the way. The robed mage-like figure spawned a rune under his feet, glowing a pale blue. The men scrambled, splitting off from one another. Brook found himself encased in a prison of ice, everything below the neck frozen.
Fintan strafed around the elemental blasts left and right, inching himself closer and closer. Just as the enemy was about to charge up for an even greater attack, the man fired his pistol. Startled, the warlock dodged the bullet, releasing the Dust prematurely. It zigzag across the ship, striking anyone unlucky enough to be in its twisted path.
The grey-haired warrior rammed the sword through the man's chest, a crimson substance leaking out of the cloak. He lowered the body down, allowing the fighter to pass away in peace. Mumbling a vague prayer towards the fallen, he broke his friend out of the sculpture. The two climbed into the bridge, their jaws dropping. They were surrounded by numerous switches and buttons, with a steering wheel at the center.
"So… what now?" Asked Fintan.
"No idea," The other admitted. "Just make shit happen, I guess."
Just as the former strode towards the wheel, the vessel rocked again. Only this time, it wasn't from canon fire. Rather, it was from a bolt of lightning. Before either one could speak, another streak fell from the skies, striking the bow. A great number of soldiers were burnt to a crisp, blown away as it tore through the deck.
Both warriors jumped at the sight of dark clouds ahead. The wind howled at the armies, sending a shiver down everyone's spines. A tempest shrieked across the battlefield, toppling some ships. Another was downed by a tsunami, sinking into the bottomless pits below. One struck the control room of their vessel, the equipment exploding right in their faces.
The warship groaned, barely able to balance itself in the storm. One final bolt sliced its way through the ship, cutting it in half. All hands onboard screamed as they fell into the savage wave, though all sound was drowned under the vessel's own agony.
Fintan struggled in the currents, barely able to prevent himself from being pulled under. He clung onto a piece of debris, climbing on top of the metal sheet. As fair as he could tell, he was the only one to be this lucky. That wasn't the case, as an explosion from the metal corpse sent a fragment flying right into his face.
The man was flung back into the sea, the world darkening as he sank. He remained concise for what felt like an eternity, barely able to make out anything around him. He could feel the weight of his lungs rising, his body attempting to cough out the invading contents. At last, it gave up, allowing the waves to carry it away…
…straight into the infernal pit beyond.