Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. I do, however, own my own characters. I am not profiting from this story.
I awoke to the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the cockpit windshield. Rubbing my eyes, I squinted in the bright light. As my vision adjusted, I sought out the small information display I had consulted earlier. I was pleased to find I had less than an hour until I arrived at my destination, meaning I had slept for several hours. Shrugging off the final dregs of sleep, I decided to familiarize myself with the aircraft I currently occupied.
The cockpit I sat in was relatively small, and it didn't take me long to locate a group of compartments above my head. Inside, I discovered an engineering manual that described the specifications of the aircraft. According to the manual, I sat in the pilot's chair of a "Bullhead," a VTOL airship capable of transporting cargo and passengers. While lacking in firepower or heavy armor, I assumed its high maneuverability made it a versatile addition to any fleet. Reading further, I found that my specific model was equipped with a high-grade Dust crystal for operation.
A more thorough search through the various storage containers in the cockpit rewarded me with the Bullhead's identification numbers and verification codes. While it did not cross my mind when I rocketed out of that detestable facility earlier, without those codes, I likely would have needed to land in hostile airspace. A pilot without an ID would prompt questions, and questions would lead to trouble. Placing the codes on the chair next to me, I thanked the nameless fool that had left them behind.
With a safe landing assured, I turned to the cube I now cradled in my hands. Its black metal faces shone dully in the sunlight, and its red edges glinted with a sharp radiance. Running a finger over its surface, I found it to be entirely smooth, with no indications as to its function. To be honest, it looked rather unimpressive.
Recursive Nature appeared so innocent.
Recursive Nature. The name shot through my mind once again, carrying with it the same sentiments of loyalty and pride as before. My decision to take the cube from the facility had reunited me with some fraction of my being. My action was not a theft, it was a rescue.
I knew that this cube was mine. I knew that I had engineered whatever lay between its metal faces.
Somehow, I knew that it contained a force to be reckoned with.
Since a full examination of Recursive Nature revealed no obvious physical mechanisms, I concluded that its machinery must lay inside. However, when pressing my fingers randomly upon its faces produced no visible results, I flared my nostrils in an angry exhalation. It seemed that the cube's secrets did not want to make themselves known.
Opting instead to gaze out the window at the clouds below, I hummed. I designed this thing, of that I was absolutely sure. Some ghost of a memory assured me that the cube had a purpose.
My purpose.
That thought caused me to frown. What was my purpose? I reflected upon the modicum of memory I had at my disposal. That relatively paltry amount of experience and handful of emotionally-drenched words led me to one inevitable conclusion.
My purpose was to fight.
And so, too, must Recursive Nature's.
Gazing at the cube once more, I pondered its origin, its history. How many battles had we weathered together? How many victories had we shared? How strong was our bond?
I did not know. But I had my suspicions.
Calling up my Aura, I sensed a source of power at the center of Recursive Nature. Faintly, I felt a similar presence behind me, at the core of the Bullhead. Both pulsed with a regular beat.
Dust.
My Semblance activated, shifting the world around me. Observing my surroundings, I found an arrangement that was vastly different than the ones I had encountered at the facility, yet it tickled at my memory all the same. Rather than materializing in a field of flashing connections, I occupied the central position in an ordered array. Banded pillars filled the space at regular intervals, illuminating the area. However, before approaching one, I noticed that whatever force that had controlled my actions before was now quiet, simmering in the back of my thoughts almost beneath my perception. Giving the mental equivalent of a shrug—for, I realized, I had no corporeal form I could discern—I approached the nearest banded stack.
As I drew near, an image of a sword filled my thoughts, placed there by this exotic reality. Trusting in my creation, I shot forward into the column. Immediately, whether by habit or by force, my Semblance deactivated and my perception snapped back to my place in the pilot's chair.
Soft whirring sounds filled the cockpit. Turning my gaze downwards, I watched in amazement as Recursive Nature morphed. Some of its faces retracted inwards while others expanded with mechanical clicks. No longer a mere two-pound cube, Recursive Nature had transformed in seconds from a box to a longsword roughly four feet in length. The sharp blade and wide hilt were black, and a red highlight ran down the center of the blade. Inset in the hilt lay a glowing Dust crystal.
No longer did Recursive Nature appear so innocent.
I whistled. I had just witnessed an engineering marvel. Giving the blade a twirl, I noticed the weight was perfectly balanced, and the hilt fit snugly into my hand. A few seconds passed before it truly sank in: that I had created the weapon in my palm.
To say I was thrilled would be an understatement.
With a quick application of my Semblance, I soon held a laser gun. Not wanting to blast a hole into the windshield, I reactivated my Semblance. I watched as Recursive Nature collapsed into a functional wristwatch.
I was amused to discover it also doubled as a fitness tracker.
Content to let my weapon reside on my wrist as a timepiece, I shifted my attention back to the information display. About fifteen minutes had passed since I woke up, and I could see the city of Vale shining in the evening light.
Vale. Home.
Throwing on a pair of headphones hanging from the ceiling, I waited until Vale ATC chirped in my ears. Routine identification followed, and I soon found myself approaching the runway of Vale's airport. A use of my Semblance activated the landing struts, and the Bullhead set me down lightly in a nearby hangar. Taking nothing else with me, I disembarked from the Bullhead. As my boots touched solid ground, I spied two figures standing on the tarmac close by. A once-over revealed the two were not airport employees.
It seemed I had a welcoming party.
Approaching them, I studied the pair. Closest to me stood a white-haired man, a cane in his left hand and a coffee mug in his right. His simple outfit of a pressed black suit and a green turtleneck suggested an appreciation for dress without an obsession with his appearance. A small pair of dark glasses were perched on his nose. He stood with a confident air, one likely backed by years of experience. Even as he sipped at his beverage, his brown eyes studied me with an unnerving ability to dissect. I knew in a split second that this man's mind was his greatest ally.
His companion, stationed to his left, was a bespectacled blonde. A white blouse, slim black pants, and a purple-fringed cape constituted her ensemble. Her arms were crossed, and she grasped a riding crop in her right hand. She also gave off an aura of confidence, but where the white-haired man's gaze had analyzed, her's pierced. I instinctively wished to squirm under her stare, so I opted to focus on the man instead.
Bringing his mug down, the man swallowed and then cleared his throat. "Good evening, and welcome to Vale. My name is Ozpin, and I am the headmaster of Beacon Academy," he said.
Beacon. A warm feeling flooded through me.
Gesturing towards my Bullhead with his mug, Ozpin said, "Seems you hitched quite the ride back to Vale. Glad to see Atlesian hospitality treated you well."
Atlas. A familiar emblem flashed through my mind, and a cocktail of emotions arose within me, too complex to identify in a single second. I pushed them away even as the blonde spoke.
"While we are certainly relieved to see you return safely to the kingdom of Vale, we must get you to Beacon immediately. We have no time to waste," she said, a hint of urgency coloring her tone.
"Now Glynda, that's no way to treat a friend," Ozpin told the blonde. Turning to me, he asked, "Are you hungry? There's a seafood restaurant nearby that I've heard wonderful things about."
My stomach growled loudly. I offered Ozpin a sheepish smile. "I'd like that a lot, actually."
Ozpin nodded. "Very well. We have a car at the airport entrance that can take us there. Please join us for dinner, Phoenix."
I blinked. Ozpin know my name. I suspected I had ties to the pair in front of me, but hearing my name pass the man's lips cemented my suspicions. All of a sudden, I felt excitement and anxiety in equal parts.
Ozpin knew who I was, and I did not. My whisper of recognition for the man did little to calm me. After all, I was in a unique position that I would never find myself in for the rest of my life.
At least, I certainly hoped so.
Ozpin spun crisply on his heels, and Glynda cast an expectant look my way. I followed and soon fell into step with the blonde. My measured steps belied my racing mind. Any answers I had just received only spawned more questions. I struggled to arrest my thoughts and only succeeded through a massive application of willpower. With my psyche finally calmed, I turned my focus to the two walking with me.
I had a dinner to attend.
"Phoenix Hayes. Aged 18. Student at Beacon. Technological Semblance. Weapon named 'Recursive Nature.' Intelligent. Fiery. Brave." Glynda looked above the rims of her glasses at me. Her stare hardened until I gave a nod.
The woman certainly did not mince words.
"Glynda, this is dinner. Not an interrogation," Ozpin chided gently. Although the woman gave a scoff, she closed the file she had read from and stored it under her plate.
I gave the headmaster a thankful look. He replied with a smile. "Story time can wait, Phoenix. For now, enjoy your meal." Turning his gaze towards his companion, he said, "I'm sure your journey has been a long one."
Glynda rolled her eyes, causing me to suppress a grin. I did not need that woman's ire directed at me.
Now that Ozpin had mollified the blonde, I continued to shovel salmon into my mouth. Fresh off the grill, the aromas from the fish and the lemon reduction drizzled on it made me realize just how hungry I was. My journey from the facility had taken many hours, and who knew when my last meal was.
When I scooped the final piece of fish into my mouth, Glynda's file magically reappeared. As soon as the plates were cleared by the waiter, Glynda started where she had left off.
"So, Mr. Hayes, what happened in Atlas?"
I looked to Ozpin. He merely nodded, as if he wanted the question answered himself. That was understandable; if one of my students appeared at an airport in a stolen Atlesian craft, I know I'd be curious as well.
I cleared my throat, gathering my thoughts. I knew I could trust them, but I wasn't sure how much of the story I owed them.
Hell, I'd say they owed me the greater one.
"I awoke in an Atlesian facility of some kind. I managed to escape my cell and make my way to the aircraft hangar. Along the way, I disabled four armed guards and recovered Recursive Nature. Amongst a firefight, I piloted a Bullhead away from the facility, the very same craft you saw me arrive in." I told my story quickly. I suspected that if I had told it any other way, the blonde across the table would have scolded me.
Ozpin took a sip from his recently refilled mug, seemingly in contemplation. When he set his cup down, he scanned my face for several seconds—searching for what, I did not know.
"An interesting tale, to say the least." He paused before asking, "How did you end up in that facility?"
I decided to be honest. "That's what I'd like to know, Professor. I awoke with no memories—total amnesia, aside from a few words."
Flickers of emotion passed over both faces across from me, although Ozpin's disappeared too quickly for me to analyze. Glynda, on the other hand, sported worry for several seconds, before settling her gaze upon the headmaster.
"You truly do not remember anything at all?"
I shook my head but held my tongue. I was interested in what the man had to say.
Ozpin hummed. "A most interesting turn of events." After a short pause, he set an electronic device on the table, retrieved from somewhere on his person. A few taps on its screen caused a holographic display to flicker to life. Turning to me, he said, "Let me show you the world of Remnant."
With his hologram as an aide, Ozpin showed me humanity's long struggle to survive. He showed me the creatures of Grimm, the bone-plated enemies of all humans and faunus. He showed me the triumphs and tribulations of Huntsmen and Huntresses, locked in a perpetual battle against the monsters of the dark.
He showed me Beacon Academy.
When he finished, Ozpin pocketed his device and turned to his companion. "Glynda will take things from here," he said.
Glynda reopened her file with an efficient flick of the wrist. "Phoenix Hayes, student at Beacon. His freshman year at the Academy, Phoenix Hayes was assigned to team APCT, pronounced 'apricot.' APCT performed well, maintaining a high level of achievement in class and on the dueling floor."
Turning a page, she continued, "Sophomore year, APCT accepted a mission in the southern portion of the Atlesian continent. The objective: to thin out an unusual surge in Grimm activity. APCT arrived at the target location on schedule, a thick forest. The team quickly went to work, slaying any Grimm they could find. In short, the mission proceeded without a hitch. That is, until they arrived at the extraction point.
"Waiting for their Bullhead home, APCT was attacked by a massive Grimm. Members of APCT could not identify its species, but one feature etched its way into their memories.
"The Grimm's face was half bone, half machine."
Run. A spike of fear paralyzed me. Never before had weakness so gripped me.
Hide. My breath hitched. I felt my pulse quicken, the blood roaring in my ears.
Survive. I was reduced to that primordial desire, one ingrained so deeply within me I was powerless against it. All of my battle experience fled in the face of such an enemy. My team whirled around me, their efforts futile against that horrid and detestable abomination. Red eyes fixed upon me, and I froze.
It sprung forward, jaws wide open, hungering for—
"Phoenix!"
My memory slipped, and the pictures faded. With them went the oppressive fear, yet it took a full minute for my heart to return to a normal rhythm.
"Sorry," I said meekly, staring at the tablecloth in front of me. Silence fell over the table, one I gratefully utilized to pull my emotions under control.
When I felt steady enough to continue, I raised my eyes. The view I found shocked me: Glynda had lost some of her color, clearly distressed, and even Ozpin's calm façade had cracked, with traces of what could be concern lacing his features.
"I'm okay, I just needed a minute," I said, hoping to reassure the two. Ozpin gave a small nod, his mien rearranging into a slight frown, while Glynda muttered an apology.
It felt so strange. These two cared for me, or at least for my well-being, and I hardly knew my own name.
Taking a shaky breath, I asked, "What else?"
Glynda blinked, probably not expecting me to want to continue. She raised an eyebrow at me, but when I did not reply, she returned to her notes.
"The newly discovered Grimm fought APCT with nearly unparalleled strength for its size. To make matters worse, the robotic components of the Grimm appeared to influence the Grimm's activity, although to what extent, we are unsure."
I quelled another bout of terror. I needed to hear what happened to me. To APCT.
"With Auras running low and physical exhaustion setting in from a long mission, APCT soon found themselves on the back foot with nowhere to run. Desperation began to set in. Then, Phoenix Hayes activated his Semblance as a last resort effort.
"He attempted to control the cyborg Grimm."
Fear. Terror. Despair.
Run. Hide. Survive.
I gasped, interrupting Glynda's account when a greater emotional storm hit me. The feelings bombarded me, and the images of the battle reappeared, startling in their clarity. My chest tightened and my throat constricted. This time, though, I was ready for it. Seconds passed before I felt calm enough to continue. When I finally steadied myself, I nodded to the blonde.
"The Grimm appeared to have collapsed in agony following Phoenix's usage of his Semblance. It released a visceral roar that shook bones. Then, after a final display of resistance, the Grimm met its fate in an explosion of red energy. However, the cyborg Grimm's dying call served as a summons to its brethren. Beowolves and other Grimm closed in on the recent grave, vengeance likely on their primitive minds.
"According to members of APCT, the explosion tossed the four teammates into various directions. While three members were merely stunned and regrouped at the rendezvous point with little trouble, Phoenix did not appear. Attempts to contact him via the team's comm link were not answered. The three sent a scout into the forest in hopes of catching sight of him.
"However, with the Bullhead setting down at the extraction point and hordes of Grimm bounding towards them, the three remaining members of APCT were forced to abandon their search and board the aircraft. As the Bullhead pulled away, APCT did not observe any signs of Phoenix.
"Finally away from the Grimm, APCT's leader noticed that Phoenix's mission communicator was out of range. Given that the communicators had a maximum signal range of 20 miles, this newfound information suggested Phoenix had left the area. Phoenix was deemed MIA.
"Later examination of communicator metadata at Beacon revealed that Phoenix had indeed traveled outside the 20 mile range following the cyborg Grimm's demise. Phoenix was confirmed MIA. When they arrived, the remaining three members of APCT debriefed with Professor Ozpin, whose next action was to request a search party from Atlas Academy."
"The search party returned with no trace of Phoenix whatsoever. But, with no leads, the ongoing search for him was futile. He may never be seen again."
With that foreboding note, Glynda closed her folder and placed it in front of her, hands clasped atop it. I could clearly see her knuckles become white. Chancing a glance at Ozpin, I was met by his cool gaze. "Yet here he is," he mused.
The events of the tale—my tale—filled my thoughts and left me speechless. Each word of that tale rang true deep within me, my veiled experience confirming the recounting of my harrowing adventure.
My emotional roller-coaster ride was proof of that.
"How long was I gone?" My voice broke the silence, timorous and unsteady as it was. Belatedly, I noted that Ozpin had not touched his coffee since Glynda had began, nor had his gaze left my face. When a reply did not come, I repeated my question, my voice stronger this time.
"Three months," replied Ozpin. "But how you ended up in Atlas's hands, I cannot fathom."
Ozpin finished and took a long draw from his mug. A sense of finality settled over the table, and I felt that this conversation was over, at least for now. Moments passed; the professors across from me volunteered no words, so neither did I.
The bill was soundlessly paid for. The lack of conversation allowed me the time to digest what I had heard. My actions at the facility, Ozpin's description of Remnant, and Glynda's narrative supported the claim that I was trained to fight, yet the holes in my memory disconcerted me. An entire life—an entire history—lay behind a shroud in my brain I was unsure would ever lift.
I left the restaurant with a hollow feeling in my chest.
Taking a seat in the back of a van, we navigated Vale's streets smoothly, guided by Glynda's careful ministrations at the wheel. Soon, we arrived at an air ferry service. Parking the car and walking through the small building, we took our seats in a compact aircraft. A soft female voice announced that our destination was Beacon Academy. With a clunk and a hiss, we were in the air. I stared silently out the window as the roofs and spires of Vale proper receded into the distance.
"Normally, students returning from a mission will rejoin their team upon arrival at the campus. However, given your… particular set of circumstances, Glynda and I felt it would be best for you to stay the night in the medical wing," Ozpin said.
I was a bit annoyed at that. Although Atlas wasn't too kind to me, it seemed they took care of me to some degree during my three-month stay. I felt fine, just tired. Also, my team would almost certainly be relieved at my return, and I wanted to see them as well.
Ozpin must have seen the frustration on my face, for he said, "I understand you wish to reunite with your team. However, they have not yet been informed of your return home. Given that it's late, I recommend we wait until the morning."
My irritation dissipated. My teammates thought I was still MIA. Surprising them with my reappearance would be quite the shock. Ozpin was right, best to wait until tomorrow.
"I'll send your team to the medical wing in the morning. They can give you a tour of the campus and get you reacclimatized to life here at Beacon. However, we still have much to discuss, Phoenix. I'd like to see you tomorrow afternoon."
I turned my head towards the headmaster. His glasses glinted in the early moonlight, and the light cast shadows onto his features. His façade, as usual, revealed no hints as to what he was thinking. At my answering nod, the man swiveled to face the doors, sipping his mug.
I returned to my idle watching, my stare settling upon the moon. Remnant's only satellite shone brightly in the nascent night sky, its rightmost fringe showing the beginnings of its entropic cycle. Small lunar pieces floated near the greater body, held in place by the invisible strings of gravity. Its light washed the water beneath me with a milky glow.
A strange feeling filled my chest, one I could not pinpoint or identify. I let it swirl about, neither feeding it nor snuffing it out. One's emotions usually were a response to one's surroundings, and mine followed suit: unique events engendered unique feelings.
Before I knew it, the airship landed, and the three of us traversed Beacon's extensive campus. Large stone arches lined the sides of an impressive walkway, leading to a collection of buildings. A colossal structure loomed over everything else, slightly intimidating in the moonlight. At the top, green points of light shone brightly, giving the campus its name. As we walked, we passed a statue topping a fountain. The statue proclaimed to all of humanity's valor in the face of the Grimm enemy. At the powerful statement that was Beacon Academy, I gave a low whistle, prompting Glynda to huff and Ozpin to chuckle.
No sooner had we arrived at the medical wing then did I find myself in a bed, a nurse hovering at my side. Satisfied with my installment, Ozpin and Glynda wished me good night and departed, their heels clicking on the hard granite floors. With their absence, I was left to my thoughts.
Sleep did not come easily that night.
A/N: After the action-packed first chapter, I felt a slower, more expositional chapter was needed. To those readers that have been with me since the very beginning, I edited a few details about the fight in the forest to aid in plot development/structure.
Thanks for reading. Until next time!
-CTech
Update (7/28): Minor adjustments, some added transitions, and closed a MAJOR plot hole. Thanks for bearing with me while I iron this thing out.