AN: Merry Christmas.

-August 1, 2279

I have seen the skeletons that lay dead in the Boneyard, ribcages of steel and concrete, and I often find myself lost within thoughts of the world before the war, before the radiation, before struggling to live was the main concern on those that live in the ashes. The bones stand tall above the sand and dirt that so make up this new world, reaching towards the heavens with dead steely fingers. I know the purpose of these long dead giants, and yet I always ask myself whether they were the result of practical minds, or the minds of the dreamers.

Were they the end result of man's desire to reach towards the heavens?

Or were they simply yet another means to an end, like so many others?

In the end I realize that their purposes have long since changed. While their remains serve as a reminder of what man is capable of, they serve too as an inspiration, of what one day may be again.

Chapter 3: Shady Sands

Being a well-traveled man, the Courier, in his short lifetime, experienced some of the most interesting sights that the Post-Apocalyptic west could produce. He has witnessed things of such beauty that he could only wish he had the ability to recreate even only a hundredth of their splendor. In contrast, he has also witnessed events and sights of such a horrifying and terrible nature they continue to plague his sleep almost every night. Of all the locales he has walked through, cities, what remained of them, or what had been rebuilt, have always been something leaning towards the former than the latter. While no city that had been rebuilt even partially could compare to what the forests of broken steel spires and dilapidated concrete must have been shortly before the bombs fell, the Courier still saw beauty in their form and function. He always saw them as physical that humanity had started to recover rather than falter further, as otherwise they would have never lasted as long as they had. To him, seeing others come together to make something bigger than themselves rather than destroy was indicative that humanity still deserved its place on the earth which it nearly destroyed.

Yet despite his feelings on the inner beauty of such post-apocalyptic metropolises, the sight before the Courier paled all other cities and towns he's seen. The city itself was by far the largest he had ever seen, being so large that he felt as if one were to drop the Hub into it, no one would notice. The towers of clay colored bricks and grey concrete were lit by the broken moonlight and the starry lights that emanate from the streets and buildings, demonstrating the architectures sophisticated and aged beauty even in the dark. From the airship the Courier could see even in the dark how the city was partitioned. Towards the west, where the sun had set just a while prior stood smokestacks and wooden warehouses, in such concentration that all of the New California Republic's own rebuilt factories could fit in the district twice over. To the north laid various large and ornate estates, indicating the wealth the residents of the district possessed. To the west of that stood buildings as tall as the broken spears that crookedly stood in the Boneyard, in various concentrations, for purposes unknown to the wasteland wanderer. South of that district laid a district composed of smaller, but still tall, brick and concrete buildings, surrounded by parking lots and fire escapes. To that district's west laid something surprising to the Courier: large fields of maize, wheat, and unseen rows of small vegetation surrounded by fruit bearing trees that lined near the river that split it from the district above.

However, what the Courier saw to the east was what stole his attention. Tall alabaster columns formed rows around a series of domed towers, their dark silhouettes visible through the shadows from the moonlight. In the center stood a tall spire, green lights emanating from a room near the top. To the wastelander it seemed as though the structure was straight from a work of epic fantasy and not a product of reality. He had to shake his head before gaping out the dark window, to clear his head from both the beauty and the incredibly height he found himself at.

"Beautiful, isn't it Mr. Caleb?"

The Courier turned to his left to come face to face with Headmaster Ozpin, who had decided to join the Courier in his observing of the city below.

"Yeah... there's nothing like this back on earth… at least, not anymore."

The young courier did not notice the grey haired headmasters questioning look, his gaze being focused on the innumerable lights below. Before Ozpin could voice his curiosity, Frost interjected with his own comment.

"Just wait until you see Vacuo. It blows Vale straight out of the water! No offense headmaster," the huntsman stated with an arm behind his head

"Again Mr. Frost… some taken," the Headmaster responded with a slight grin, the young huntsman having distracted the Headmaster from his curiosity.

"But still, I'm honestly somewhat envious of you Caleb."

"Why's that?"

"You get to go to Vacuo. I have to deal with the Council of Vale. May the first guide me," Frost said with a grimace.

"You have all of my sympathy Mr. Frost," Ozpin replied with a chuckle.

"Council?" the Courier asked. The term sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't quite remember where he heard it before. The other men simply stared at the Courier for a moment before Frost replied.

"The Council of Vale," he said. "Guess you don't have Councils where you're from. Probably have some better form of government than a bunch of old men arguing and pointing fingers all day."

It'd be better that he didn't know. The Courier thought to himself.

"Maybe some sort of meritocracy where the best individuals of all fields and careers represent each individual's group's needs in a form of representative government. Maybe you have a system of government in which every individual has an equal say in the affairs of your nation… Or maybe you solve political disputes with mud wrestling- hell, I'd support a government like that."

"Frost," Ozpin facepalmed.

"Oh right, the Council," Frost said while sporting a rather embarrassed grin. "As you can probably tell, the councils are what govern the Four Kingdoms. Council members are all elected officials and they are all assholes of the highest degree. Dealing directly with the Council for more than five minutes is cause enough for doctors to prescribe you with anti-anxiety drugs. And now I have to go talk to them and explain how their hard-taxed money got wasted because of a security breach and how it's all my fault, and how now I have to remain in their service until I'm five hundred and ten years old, which is the number of years it will take for me to pay for a Mark-Two Dust-Powered Electrical Wall, the most expensive security system that taxpayers couldn't afford. All because I didn't see the attack coming."

"Uh… sorry you have to deal with the government?" The Courier responded with what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

"Eh, not your fault. 'Sides, I'll probably just have to investigate into who exactly was behind this little stunt, something I was planning on doing anyway."

"Wait, won't the Council want to talk to me as well?" the Courier asked.

"Nah. For one thing, you weren't on their payroll, second, as far as they'll know, you're just some traveler from some off-the-grid settlement in southern Vale… Actually, come to think of it, you'd fit in there. Handymen are like kings there, at least as long as the settlements don't go dark. You might want to consider that as a backup plan if everything heads south."

"I will definitely keep that in mind," the Courier responded with a smile. "I'm guessing that's my cover story."

"I would suggest mixing in a pound of truth," Ozpin interjected. "It would make things more believable."

The three gazed out of the window at the descending horizon, buildings in the distance rising closer to their line of sight. The Courier watched as they approached a large raised port, massive and bright lights leading the airship towards it while blinding out the night sky. The three only left the room and walked towards the bow of the airship, the Courier donning his helmet as they walked through the door.

The crowd in the airship sounded tired but ultimately relieved, happy to be back to civilization. This was dually pleasing for the Courier, as not only were the people finally safe, but the joy from arriving at Vale meant they were too distracted to try and question him anymore. He smiled as people were too busy in their own conversations to try and ask him questions like they had been for almost the entire airship ride. The Courier couldn't ask for anything better than peace.

The ship took several minutes to land, and when the door finally opened it was like watching water burst through a dam. The people surged from the airship to get into the open-air port, bumping past the calmer huntsmen and courier in their effort to get into the safe confines of the walled city. Screams of joy and frustration echoed throughout the metal frame of the ship, deafening any conversation even slightly quieter than a shout. Grabbing the straps of his bags, the Courier watched as police officers with their weapons holstered received the refugees, directing them to various busses and trucks that were parked in the street down the stairs. He thanked whatever deity listened that the Legion didn't exist here, before getting lost in worrisome thoughts. He stopped being lost in thought when Frost shook his shoulder.

"You okay?" Frost asked, concern etched on his face.

"Hoping no one attacks the refugee camp."

"Guess you don't have much faith in the fine donut-dippers of this city." Frost replied with a smirk. One of the officers overheard him and gave a rather sad sigh.

"What? No… I was at a refugee camp when it was attacked once. There were several casualties and two fatalities, but it could've been much worse. I'm worried that the group that was behind the attack might try again with the refugee camp." The Courier responded as they began to follow the two headmasters, who themselves were also lost in a conversation. It seemed to be rather serious, as Lyons had lost that mirthful grin he had been sporting.

"If it's grimm you're worried about, you have nothing to fear." Frost said, bringing the Courier's attention back towards him. "The walls here have held for centuries, and are much sturdier than the defense system back at Roaring Oaks. I doubt a single grimm could get past them, so trying to draw them towards the camp would be pointless. Though if you're worried more about terrorists, I understand; crimes have been increasing lately, but especially in Vale. Torchwick's gang's been particularly busy with his various dust heists."

"Who?" the Courier asked.

"A notorious and dangerous criminal, who has stolen thousands if not over a million Lien in dust," Frost responded before sighing. "Sadly, he's probably going to take advantage of the police being dispatched here in order to commit another robbery."

"Has taken advantage Mr. Frost," Ozpin interjected as the two caught up to the headmasters, who had been leading the others towards an elevator in a direction parallel to the street that ran in front of the port. The Courier was grateful for this as he saw flashing cameras from the road.

"What!" Frost exclaimed.

"Glynda has just informed me that I'm needed at the Police Station in the commercial district. Torchwick has robbed yet another Dust store. However, from what I can tell, the robbery hit a snag in the form of a young girl." Ozpin calmly replied.

"A young girl?" Frost asked.

"How she stopped the robbery is something I am curious about. Fighting off someone like Torchwick takes some impressive skills. Sorry, but I need to ensure Glynda does not chew this young girl's head off."

"She always was a stickler for the rules Oz, I don't know how you deal with her," Lyons said as he patted the man on the shoulder. The others bid him a farewell and watched as he left down the street towards the commercial district. The others walked in the opposite direction of the street, placing distance between them and the airship port before turning at the second intersection.

"I should probably go as well," Frost said looking rather downcast. "I need to speak to the council as soon as possible. I hope to see you again Caleb." Frost offered his right hand after the farewell, which the Courier grabbed and shook firmly once.

"Hope to see you as well, Jacob," the Courier responded, smiling under his helmet. Frost smirked before crossing the street and continuing in the direction they were previously headed. The Courier looked at the old headmaster in silence waiting for him to explain what the two would be doing now that half their party had left for their own devices. The old headmaster chuckled good naturedly before speaking.

"Mr. Caleb, you are a rather taciturn fellow sometimes. It makes it difficult to know exactly what you want when you neither speak nor show your face." The headmaster said as he began walking down the sidewalk. A large highway structure hid the night sky when they passed under it, the sounds of rushing cars coming from beyond the concrete. The Courier struggled pry his eyes and ears from the intact structure to respond to the headmaster.

"Sorry, I just want to make sure of something. You said yesterday that we would be taking a train to a place called Vacuo right? As you can probably tell, I'm very unfamiliar with the Geography of Remnant. Is Vacuo a city or a country?"

Lyons smiled and nodded as the Courier caught up to his side "Vacuo is the name of the kingdom and its capital that lies to the west, same as how 'Vale' refers to both this city and the nation it exists within. It's connected by land to the kingdom of Vale, and thus enjoys a close relation with it both geographically and politically. It is for this reason why we are traveling by train rather than airship or boat, as it is far quicker than either method."

"Is there anything I should know before I get there?" The Courier asked.

"I hope you don't hate deserts," the headmaster responded in a joking manner.

The Courier's response was to chuckle for about a straight minute. The Courier removed his helmet and wiped the tear on his right eye. He continued chuckling sporadically as they walked towards what the Courier assumed to be a train station.

"Sorry, but if I hated deserts I would've never left the Strip," the Courier said between breaths. He finally stopped laughing as they entered the station. The Courier wandered and looked at the various sights in the rather spacious train station, while Headmaster Lyons acquired their means of transportation. The station itself was lit heavily with white light, and it highlighted the silver walls and pillars that held up the ceiling. Many sheet thin screens along the walls broadcasted the late night news station for passengers waiting for their trains to arrive. Along one wall there was a thin window where holographic words, contrasting the night sky beyond the window, gave details on the incoming and outgoing trains. Most of the trains had destinations within the large city, but a few of them were heading towards either Vacuo or some other city he's never heard of.

He looked around at the other passengers, some of whom gave him worried glances. His only response was to smile weakly now that his face could be seen and wave. Some of the passengers appeared as though they were dead, having passed out on the metal benches that were separated by potted foliage. Half of those passed out looked like they had either just got off what must have been tiring work, with their ties loosened and clothes in disarray, while others appeared to have lost consciousness due to a rather high concentration of ethanol in their bloodstream as judged by their aroma. The ones who weren't passed out had rolling bags and suitcases by their feet, more than likely waiting for a train with a much farther destination than the other side of the city. His conjectures were interrupted by Lyon's returning and motioning for him to follow after.

"Since I already have a two way ticket, I only needed to purchase a one way ticket. Since none of us have really had the chance to, the bedroom you'll be staying will be like mine, and have a shower. Mr. Caleb… I would highly suggest you take advantage of it," Lyons commented dryly. The courier's eyes widened before he spoke, briefly stopping when he reached the top of the stairs.

"That's… trains with showers? We really don't have things like that back home… well… not anymore." The statement surprised Lyons, and he began ponder the state of the Courier's world. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by the Courier's next question.

"That sounds much too fancy for my budget. How much was the ticket?"

"With my huntsman's discount… only seventy five lien," the headmaster responded amicably as they walked across a walkway over the many train tracks.

"I…would you accept ammo as payment? I don't think you'd take caps as p-"

"Mr. Caleb! You are being accepted as a potential student to my Academy! I would not have my students stranded on another continent!" Lyons responded in an irate tone.

"I didn't mean to imply sir, I just prefer paying my debts," The Courier responded apologetically. Lyon's sighed.

"Well, you don't owe me a single Lien if that's what you're trying to imply," he said before grinning. "Though I do understand where you come from Mr. Caleb. I believe this is our train."

The Courier looked at the only train that was stopped next to the minute tiled floor that lied at the bottom of the steel stairs. It was long and chrome, unlike the boxcar freight and antiquated steel passenger trains that were beginning to see use again in the west. The silver train looked sleek, like the trains that must have existed before the war, and stood at a height of at least two stories. Tired passengers were being directed by a Conductor onto the train, some of whom could barely carry their luggage onto the vehicle. A few of the passengers had strange weapons on their backs or waists, and the Courier assumed they must be huntsmen and huntresses on their way to some job in Vacuo. The Conductor looked at the headmaster and courier and held out his hands in request for their tickets. He tore off part of the tickets and gave them back.

"Your rooms will be in the fourth car down from here," he said as he pointed behind him, "room numbers forty-five and forty-six. We will be departing in twenty minutes, so please hurry in."

The two walked down and stepped into the car, lit above by amber lights. The interior had some sort of wood finishing, contrasting with the chrome exterior. The two counted the rooms down the soft carpeted hallway until they came across their rooms. Tired from dealing with the dozens of refugees on the airship, and frustrated from the long period in which his feet weren't near the ground, the Courier gave a brief farewell to the headmaster before entering his room for the next day.

This room is… actually bigger than I thought it would be. The Courier thought. It measured much smaller than the room he owned in Novac, which, while small, still fulfilled his needs and contained the second most comfortable bed he ever slept on. It would also never compare to the presidential suite in the Lucky 38, which his friends and he all considered home until they all amicably went their separate ways two months back. Still, it appeared to be much more comfortable than the random brick and mortar ruined building off the side of the road he often turned into a makeshift campsite while travelling eastward.

The room, unlike the hallway, contained little wood finishing, and in the Courier's honest opinion reminded him of a hospital, albeit with an aroma of pine needles rather than antiseptic. The walls were white, and there was some side room to his left, more than likely the restroom. To his right sat what appeared to be a long couch, but had a single large cushion rather than two or four. Making his way past the couch, he noticed some sort of long compartment over the couch. Setting his belongings near the window in the back of the room, the Courier went back to examining the couch. He noticed that the couch could be pulled out and assumed that it turned into a bed. This assumption proved true when he tested it, resulting in a rather small bed blocking the exit. Opening the cabinet above the bed, he chuckled when he found a second bed.

Guess Headmaster Lyons didn't want to share a room, though I really don't deserve something as nice as this, the Courier thought to himself as he put the second bed back. Sighing, he began preparing for the luxury of a warm shower. Reaching into the interior of the Pip-Boy, he found and pulled on the small release latch. The Pip-Boy whirred as the auto locks disengaged, and the device slipped around his wrist. Taking care not to drop it, even though the thing went unscathed after being hit by shrapnel from a rocket, he slipped it off his wrist and placed it on the bed. After ensuring the valuable device would stay safe he took off his duster, armor and pants, leaving him covered by only his underclothes, the red cowboy scarf, and the gauze that hid his entire right arm.

Entering the bathroom the Courier felt his eyes squint in surprise at just how small the restroom was. The toilet took up half of the bathroom and the shower was merely a movable nozzle connected by a long tube to the water supply. Next to the showerhead was a mirror that was placed above a sink. The Courier reached for one of the towels on the rack, finding one long enough to cover his body. Looking in the mirror briefly he looked at the face he rarely saw. It was really the only part he could really see without wincing too much, as it was the least scarred part of his body.

The dull blue eyes in the mirror matched his gaze and appeared to be studying the Courier as he did the same to his reflection. His face was lightly tanned like most of his body, but had begun to pale under the thick clothing and armor he had been wearing. Five large scars covered his face, and took all of the attention off of the rest of his rather unkempt and messy appearance. There was of course the smallest of the five, a chip over the right side of his lips, incomparable to the giant long machete gash that went from above his left eyebrow to under the left side of his lip. That scar crossed the path of another, creating a sort of 'X' shape over his left eye. Lastly, the two circular scars underneath his short oil colored hair identified him to most people as "the" courier who was shot twice in the head in Goodsprings and left for dead. Those particular scars ensured he was always recognized in the Mojave, especially by passing troopers.

The Courier looked away after placing the towel over the mirror, tucking the corners of the towel on the corners of the mirror. He then took off his underclothes and the gauze protecting his right arm, dropping them just outside the bathroom door.

You know, you may need help if you can't even look at anything below your neck without feeling disgust, he thought to himself, groaning before he began his shower.

The Courier woke up violently, reaching for his own neck with his right hand. He closed his bugged eyes in relief when he found his scarf in the same place he tied it after his shower. The only sounds he could hear were the sounds of the train's wheels grinding on the tracks below and his own hyperventilating. Plopping back onto the bed he began to slow his breathing and attempted to fall back to sleep hoping vainly that it wouldn't be another damned nightmare. It just had to be his rotten luck that he couldn't sleep at all on the airship ride back, instead walking about the ship and helping deal with whatever problems people had and inadvertently opening himself to their questions. Because of this, his subsequent bout of sleeping contained extended stages of rapid eye movement. This was something he could have done without. Looking to his back he found light passing through the blinds. Checking the time on his Pip-Boy he was surprised to see he slept for over half a day, having slept past noon.

The Courier quickly dressed himself in his armor, but left the helmet off now that he was away from the colonists. After setting the bed back to its original position he left the room, locking the door behind him. He found the train was rather stable when it moved, unlike the trains he rode back in the NCR which helped cut down travel time on many of his journeys. Walking past the Headmaster's room he tried listening to see if he had woken up before continuing after hearing nothing. From what he could gather towards the back of the train there was some sort of cafe, and he figured the old headmaster might be there eating.

He passed through several cars before finding Headmaster Lyons sitting on some bench near the window. It appeared as though they had arrived in Vacuo overnight, and the Courier was rather pleased at what he assumed to be the trains expediency. To his left he found himself staring out at a long beach, with clear unpolluted and unirradiated water stretching out towards the horizon. Taking a seat next to the headmaster he gazed out at the passing desert, massive sand dunes overlapping the distant horizon. The sun was directly overhead, meaning the shade was minimal and the entirety of the desert before him appeared to reflect what light there was.

"You came at a good time Mr. Caleb. This erg is only a miniscule part of the Avarus Rex, and is often missed by travelers," Headmaster Lyons said, leaning back into his seat.

"Yeah, I've only seen a place like this once before, and it was actually from a distance," the Courier responded. "The deserts I've wandered had actual vegetation, though rather sparse. Most the deserts I walked were basins composed of dirt and rock." He paused for a moment before speaking up. "So, how far exactly are we from Vacuo, the city I mean?"

"Tired of travelling are we?"

"Not really. Kind of hard to be a courier if you don't have some sense of wanderlust. Just eager to see where I'll be staying for the next few years," the Courier replied.

"We're about twenty minutes from the city, I was actually planning on knocking on your door when we arrived at the city, seeing as neither of us really got the rest we needed, but it seems you had different plans."

The two stared out the window at the passing sands, watching as the erg eventually gave way to rocky outcroppings familiar to the Courier, before even that faded to a flat plane covered in shrubs. In the distance he saw the top of a mountain range, rocky peaks contrasting with the canopy that lay at the lower elevations. He lost track of how long he sat there staring into the desert before he was tapped on the shoulder by Lyons, and pointed towards his right.

The Courier gaped, and only stopped when they passed through a small wall. On the ground were rows upon rows of corn, wheat, and other crops, being harvested by various large machines. Some ranch style houses could be seen in the distance, most of which were very wide, and surrounded by numerous smaller structures. However the Couriers eyes were glued to the plateau in the distance, steel towers rising from the top towards the clouds. Like Vale he could make out different districts, with smaller buildings covering the outermost edge of the plateau, and surrounding the skyscrapers and towers that stood in the center, giving the city a mountainous appearance. Wrapping around counterclockwise from the bottom of the plateau were highways that led to the towering city.

The Courier shook his head and focused as the train approached the plateau, standing up as the train began to rise on the counterclockwise track towards the top. Walking back towards his cabin, the courier briefly looked out of the other window at the rising spinning world below him, getting a good view of both the farmland and the savannah that surrounded the farmland. It took him a few minutes to get back to his room, and by the time he was able to grab all of his belongings and left the room for the last time, the train had arrived in the city.

The Courier followed the headmaster out of the train and through the crowded open air train station. There were a dozen trains going to a dozen locations each, connecting the distant parts of the city in the sky. He noticed that many of the people would not be out of place in the Mojave, with either thick light colored work clothes to protect them from the sand or thin clothes to allow for the skin to breathe. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and the calamity of blaring whistles.

The trains here must not run on coal: can't smell the putrid stench of it choking the air, the Courier thought to himself. The two walked across a catwalk that overlapped the various departing trains, before descending the stairs at the end. The passengers at the particular station all looked to be the same age of the Courier and were clothed in a variety of garbs both colorful and seemingly practical. At this the headmaster turned around to face the Courier with an apologetic grin.

"Mr. Caleb, I have faith that you will few troubles during the initiation, and that you will become a welcome student at Shade Academy for the next four years. It is because of these beliefs that I must apologize, as while I enjoy your company I must ride with the new hires in the front car of the soon to be arriving train" Lyons said, confusing the Courier. "Though truly, my reason for leaving is that I believe if you are to become a respected huntsman, you must first acquaint yourself with your brethren in arms."

"... You want me … to talk to people my age… don't you?" the Courier said, panic hidden by a polite tone.

"... Yes," the headmaster answered bluntly. "Goodbye Mr. Caleb. I do hope you listen to the welcoming speech, I spent good hours finishing on our long journey here." The headmaster then nodded his head before passing by the Courier, who now noticed the curious gaze of a few of the other teenagers.

… Crap, the Courier thought as he approached the other students waiting, relaxing when the ones who were looking at either him or his luggage decided to return to their own. He walked through the crowd giving glances to the various students, some of whom returned his gaze. He stopped in his tracks when he saw a girl with indigo hair and a crossbow who appeared to be fighting the urge to punch the guy trying-and failing-to flirt with her.

"Like your coat," the Courier said as he looked at the arm of the coat that went down to her waist. He gave nod and a friendly smile, grabbing the inner edges of his duster and holding them out briefly. She looked at him with surprised eyes before giving him an amused half smile and chuckled. Her response caused the man next to her to give the Courier a glare, which was replaced with fear when he saw the scars on his face.

"Dusters are pretty cool too," she said as the flirt retreated, tail between his legs.

Wait. Did that guy have a tail, the Courier thought as he watched the teen leave. He then calmly rejected the notion, assuming it was all some sort of stress induced hallucination. He nodded a farewell and continued walking through the crowd before eventually finding a spot relatively clear of people near a pillar. He placed his bags down gently before leaning back into the pillars, trying to find some peace amongst the calamity of the station. He managed to close his eyes for a moment, breathing in the heavy human vapors and reminding him of where exactly his path was leading him. He opened his eyes to find a black to grey haired, tanned youth with a grey to purple sleeveless top. His right hand was outstretched and held a Stealth Boy in it.

"This fell out of your bag," he said. The Courier carefully took the device, thanking him before placing it back in his makeshift backpack. He then covered the hole in the bag with a strip of duct tape, causing the teen in front of him to chuckle.

"Ah, if you can't get a new one, fix the old one with duct tape. Love it!"

"Duct tape has saved my life on multiple occasions," the Courier responded.

"Same here," the teen said with a grin, before holding his hand out. "What's your name?"

"Caleb," the Courier replied, shaking the youth's hand, "just Caleb."

"Not keen on sharing your last name huh?" The teen asked with a frown.

"... I'd rather not talk about it actually," the Courier responded with a sideward glance.

"Ah! Didn't mean anything by it Caleb. I'm Brawnz Ni."

"Do you have a siblings named Iron and Steel?" the Courier said chuckling before going wide eyed. "Crap! Sorry, I-"

"Oh!" Brawnz exclaimed. "You've met my sisters?"

"Sorry, it was… it was a joke."

"... Joke?" Brawnz asked. "Jeez man, you don't have be sorry about that; I've heard worse. Usually when people I meet find out I have sisters, they joke about how they must be named Silver and Gold. I don't know how you guessed correctly but color me impressed and curious."

"Well," the Courier explained, "It all boils down to- oh the train is here." The Courier pointed to the train arriving behind Brawnz, driving past and not stopping until it reached a dead end. A few seconds after the train arrived, the doors opened and the students began to pile inside. The Courier, to his relief found there were few enough people that he could find a seat, but was slightly worried as to why there was no conductor asking for tickets.

"Must be your first time here," Brawnz said as he sat down across the Courier, grabbing the Couriers attention. "This line only exists between Shade and Vacuo. It's free for Huntsmen in training like us, so you don't need to worry about not having a ticket. Now, what were you saying before?"

"Oh, it all has to do with the three stages of civilization. It generally goes: stone-bronze-iron right? Since weapons went from bronze to iron and then lastly to steel, and your name is Brawnz, I just sort of made the connection," the Courier finished. Brawnz sat there in silence, staring at the Courier with judging eyes. He only spoke up after the train began to depart.

"You assume my sisters are named after the good stuff, and not the pretty stuff. I like the way you think, Caleb," he said with a grin. The grin turned into a curious frown however when he spoke up again. "Now that that's out of the way, I've been wondering, how exactly did you get those scars on your head? They look like bullet holes."

"Hey! I've been wondering the same thing!" interjected a third voice. The Courier turned to find a smiling young man that resembled what Ulysses might have looked like if he was seventeen. "I saw you pass by and all I could think was, 'Holy Dust on a shingle! Those look like they hurt!' Are they really bullet scars?"

"Heh. My stories are pretty farfetched and boring," the Courier said. "I doubt you'd believe them, let alone find them interesting."

The two gave the Courier a knowing look, and crossed their arms over their chest as if saying "try us".

"I got shot twice in the head with a nine millimeter during a botched delivery job," the Courier said bluntly, hoping it would sate the two curious students.

"Aww! Come on dude!" the third boy exclaimed as he moved to the seat to the left of Brawnz.

"Yeah man, give the whole story," Brawnz chipped in. "Getting shot in the head twice and living in and of itself is impressive, but I want to know why you were shot in the head."

"It's really long," the Courier responded.

"I don't know if you haven't noticed," Brawnz said, pointing towards the front of the train "but we have plenty of time."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the Courier sighed out. "It all started when I was hired to deliver a platinum poker chip…"

"And the guy said to me 'Sorry you got twisted up in this scene,'" the Courier spoke, his voice trying to mimic a smugness unbefitting of the young man. "'From where you're kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is... the game was rigged from the start.' Then *BLAM* he shot me in the head, knocking me out! The bullet actually slowed down enough to stop just past the skull, which was a lucky break. However he must have heard me breathe, because when I woke up in Doc Mitchell's-the man who patched me up-I had two scars on my forehead, meaning he shot me while I was still on the ground. According to the doc though, the bullet only went through a small portion of my frontal lobe, and the damage was in his words 'enough to hurt, but not enough to harm'. Apparently, he didn't even step forward because the angle was acute enough that the doc found the grey matter between the bullet path and my skull to be only an eighth of an inch in length."

The Courier stopped spinning his tale and looked at the two boys staring at him, surprisingly interested. Brawnz had leaned back into his seat, with his arms behind his head acting as a pillow. However, despite such a position implying boredom, his eyes were wide and awake throughout the story, indication this interest. The other student did the exact opposite with his body, sitting forward in his seat excitedly throughout the story. The Courier also noticed, to his dismay, that some of the other students had listened in to portions, as they had stopped their own conversations when the Courier talked about being ambushed by Benny and his Great Khan lackeys.

"You seriously thought something like that would be boring?" the boy to the left of Brawnz asked. "I can see it being outlandish-though do understand: I do believe you. But boring? You must have a weird sense of excitement. Anyways, what happened afterwards?"

"I spent the next two weeks tracking him down to get my package back."

"Wait," Brawnz said with a chuckle as he leaned forward. "You followed him for two weeks, just to finish a delivery?"

"I don't like leaving jobs unfinished. I wouldn't be as decent a courier as I was if I did otherwise."

"You are one dedicated mailman you know that?" the other teen said. "Remind me to hire you when I need something delivered."

The three teens laughed until the train stopped and the doors opened, causing them all to yelp. They gathered what belongings they had and exited the train. The Courier blinked when he saw the academy, being further and further impressed by the creations of this new world.

In the center of the campus was a tall domed tower, with a golden light coming from the room just under it. Behind the tower, Airships could be seen departing and arriving, likely dropping off more students. Surrounding the central tower at the base were flat roofed, sand colored buildings varying from just over two stories to over four stories high. The buildings were spread amongst the campus, but were often close to one another, and most had numerous windows. The ones farthest from the center had several antenna on their roofs, and many of the windows had curtains instead of blinds. Further towards the center, the buildings became shorter, with marble walkways passing under horseshoe tunnels and into a central courtyard.

The Courier followed the other two, preferring the company of people he was at least passingly familiar with, before listening to the various hologram screens that began to appear on the sides of the buildings. However, he focused so much on the campus that he really only heard the words "welcome", "center", and "speech" clearly. When the three students entered the courtyard, they were rather startled when to find it filled with must have been over two hundred students. The Courier assumed many of them to be in their second year, as they looked to be older than the rest by at least a year or so. There was chattering amongst the students, which the Courier tuned out as he looked at the tower.

The tower easily stood about three quarters as tall as the Lucky 38, but looked much more impressive than the old worn out casino. Covered walkways led from the buildings that surrounded the courtyard to the tower, with ancient wooden doors blocking the interior from being seen. The Courier continued to stare at the light emanating from the top until he heard the sounds of a microphone being tapped through the speakers that have been set up. Headmaster Lyons stood behind the microphone on the stage situated in front of the tower, everything above his waistline visible to the myriad students congregated in the courtyard. The professors of the academy stood in a line behind him, and stiffened to attention when he began to speak.

"I know you all must be rather tired from your trip, and I would like to make this speech as brief as possible. You have all traveled here for reasons as varied as the faces you wear. However, you will find we have but one purpose for you: to become the one and only true wall that society has against the darkness. There is a universal truth to becoming a respectable huntsman or huntress, and that it requires a high degree of companionship, conviction, but most importantly, sacrifice. If you cannot demonstrate any of these qualities, you are not fit to even hold your weapon with any sort of pride. Tomorrow you will face the initiation, and your true character will be unmasked for all the world."

Lyons ducked his head for a moment with a frown before speaking again. "That is all. Incoming first year's will be sleeping in the atrium. Get a restful night, because you will need it for tomorrow."

With that the Headmaster retreated into his tower followed by most of the faculty, a few professors staying behind to usher the students towards the atrium. Before they entered the atrium, the third teen besides the Courier and Brawnz spoke up.

"Hey! I never got your names!"

"I'm Brawnz Ni."

"I'm Caleb," the Courier responded.

"Just Caleb," Brawnz interjected with a grin, getting a chuckle out of the third teen.

"Guess you're not a last name kind of person. Well, I'm Roy Stallion, sorry I didn't ask for you guys' names earlier. "

The other two shrugged in response before they entered the atrium, its walls wide enough to allow for all of the first years to lie in and still be comfortable. The ceiling was covered in some sort of rose colored felt, with lights provided by high hanging chandeliers. When they finished entering the atrium a professor stopped them, directing them towards the right side of the room. It took little time for them to understand why as they watched various males unroll bedrolls to claim spaces next to their friends or close to the center which divided them from the female students. After searching for a good two minutes they found a spot near the corner, unrolling the sleeping bags that they were carrying. After plopping down, they spent almost five minutes in silence before Roy spoke up.

"So… anybody got a deck of cards?"

The Courier smiled as he unzipped one of the duffel bags.

AN: Sorry it took so long. I actually worked practically all of last night to get this finished by Christmas Day, so I might need coffee soon.

So… say hello to the only canon characters that will be appearing in this fiction for a while, the members of team BRNZ and NDGO, though only three have really appeared.

As said before by a more coherent me: please leave comments or constructive criticism.