AN: So, I updated twice in the time span of one month. New record! That's my New Year's Resolution by the way: Update more frequently.

-October 2, 2281

It is often a challenge to follow the roads that have been laid before us through a combination of coincidences and our own personal decisions. Often do I spend hours between waking and moving simply questioning why as people we follow our paths until their end, despite how leaving them would be in our best interest. These thoughts about humanity do not leave my mind until I find myself drifting off at early hours, thinking of why we continue trying to live when our world has been scorched by weapons of cruel design. Still, it is probably for the best that we continue moving forward despite the harm we have enacted on the world, as it is simple to see that we have learned at least a few lessons from our crimes. It is far better to continue and attempt to rebuild and remain than it is to simply give in to the wasted world which we made, as even the smallest step forward is infinitely greater than standing still.

Chapter 4: Bloody Sands

There are few things in the wasteland which make life simple and easy for those attempting to survive the horrors created by the combination of atomic fire, fallout, and generally inhumane experiments supported by a government long since corrupted into what every wastelander worth their guns would know as the Enclave. Most if not all wastelanders would categorize the majority of their life as a long string of partaking in a single activity: not dying. For this reason, the concept of meeting an incompetent wastelander is considered an oxymoron to both wastelanders and those whom live a sedentary yet far less lethal lifestyle within the borders of rebuilt civilization, as "meeting" one would imply that they still count themselves amongst the living. Due to this conditioning by the wastes, which, for the most part, only takes in those who travel them extensively, wastelanders have a very wide view of survival and survival techniques and, combined with a wallet of caps numbering in the low triple digits, an extremely liberal view of what constitutes as a luxury.

"This is one of the greatest breakfasts I've ever had," the Courier said after quickly swallowing the last bit of sausage on his plate.

Never let it be said that the Courier hated food. The Courier, like all sane human beings, enjoys partaking eating meals, the majority of which he prepared himself while sitting next alongside a recently stoked, makeshift campfire. One does not survive the wasteland without knowing how to detoxify raw gecko meat via a heavy application of high temperature. When he had heard about the free breakfast, he had ended up dragging a still slumbering Roy behind him by the feet, just so they wouldn't miss out on such a rare opportunity as free food. When they arrived at the cafeteria the Courier had grabbed a plate but only filled it slightly, having much less food than the others he had come with. However, he had finished eating what meager portions he had rather quickly.

"... When did you last eat?" Brawnz asked, concern lining his voice.

"Four days ago… give or take a few hours," the Courier responded quickly, syrup dripping down his chin. He remembered he ate the day before his Transportalponder failed, and that the incident involving the colony occurred just three days prior. He looked up when he heard a utensil fall onto a plate, clattering against the ceramic edge. Brawnz and Roy stared at the Courier with shocked expressions. Brawnz had been the one to drop his fork, while Roy had a syrup coated cut of flapjack in front of his gaping mouth. The Courier quickly tried to remedy what must be terrifying to people not used to life out in the wastes.

"Ah, don't worry! I'm used to it!"

Their expressions only strengthened, Brawnz adopted a rather angry expression before cooling himself. The Courier mentally berated himself, knowing they'd start asking questions.

"Please don't worry. I've just been too busy to eat the past few days. An… incident happened"

"Let me guess: Long story?" Roy replied, putting his fork down, exasperation clearly written on his face.

"Sorry."

"One of these days, I'm going to get your life story, write it down, and become a rich author. I swear on the First," Roy wryly responded, not noticing the Courier's brief look of panic.

"Caleb, seriously, go grab another plate right now," Brawnz ordered, not catching the brief flash of tension in the Courier's posture, rather focusing on the Courier's closed eyes and sigh. The Courier opened his eyes and looked directly into Brawnz's before he responded.

"I'm actually pretty full, anymore and I might vomit during the initiation. I'll eat when I get back."

"If you can get back on such little fuel."

The three looked at the new voice, the Courier giving a welcoming smile when he saw who it was. The girl with the longcoat stood behind the chair next to Roy, her breakfast tray already on the table. Taking a seat, she spoke up again.

"If what you were saying was true, Caleb, you should probably eat another helping."

"It's fine. I've been… I can work on such a small amount of food. If I gorge myself, I'll probably just vomit it up during initiation. Besides, it's bad to eat too much after not eating for a while anyway."

She looked back with a mixture of concern and resignation. She shook her head a couple of times before she dug into her meal. The others quickly started discussing their own matters, while the Courier stared around the room. The arched windows sat between the beige stone that the ancient walls were made of. The room itself was lit by multiple chandeliers, which had electrical wires running from them, a combination of the practical nature of the modern age with the aesthetics of days gone by.

"To all incoming first year students: retrieve your arms from your assigned lockers and report to the skyport in half an hour. That is all"

The intercom buzzed for a second after the announcement before going silent. The conversations of the room became mobile as the sounds of chairs being moved and trays being dropped off filled in the silence. The four students stood up and made their way towards the locker room, dropping off their trays before leaving the cafeteria.

It took them a few minutes to reach the locker rooms, but they eventually reached the white walled room, the dull roar of a dozen incomprehensible conversations rebounding off the walls and floor. There was a hint of teenage sweat amongst the lemon scented room, giving it a rather odd overall odor, but the Courier had experienced worse. Splitting up, the four went towards their designated lockers, and began the arduous process of preparing their weapons.

The Courier quickly turned the dial on his locker to the numbers in its sequence opening the locker to reveal it's packed to the brim nature. He heard a couple students curse at the sheer amount of weapons and ammunition in the locker. Taking care not to cause an avalanche the Courier picked out the weapons he would carry, along with ammunition. Figuring that he would be meeting with others, he only decided to pack one energy weapon, that being his Gauss Rifle. He then armed himself with the weapons he always carried with him during outings: his hunting shotgun, his Ranger Sequoia, A Light Shining in the Darkness, and his combat knife, which he attached to the front of his armor. Lastly, after a minute or so of debate he took the rifle of Randall Clark, rather than arm himself with the COS rifle or the LAER. He placed the shotgun on the holster he kept on the lower back of his combat armor, just below where he placed the rifle. Both were angled so they wouldn't easily fall out, with hard leather wrapping around the trigger guards and the metal above them. He then holstered the two pistols to his legs, before slinging the Gauss Rifle over his arm and onto his back, loose enough for him to quickly arm himself in a pinch.

After packing the necessary ammo, the Courier grabbed a few stimpacks and a single doctor's bag. He closed the locker and turned, only to find himself facing a rather small grey haired girl who stared at him with eyes filled with a mixture of fear and discernment. She took off when she realized he noticed her, ears twitching as she made her exit.

I think I've used one too many Stealth Boys, the Courier thought to himself, rubbing his head as he walked towards the exit. The three people he knew met him near the exit, and Roy huffed humorously.

"How can you even walk with that many guns?" Brawnz asked incredulously.

"Believe it or not, I consider myself lightly armed right now."

"What does that make us then? Naked?" the girl asked, mockingly covering herself up, a massive grin plastered on her face.

"I… er… I mean for me... not for..." the Courier replied, sighing depressively at the end. The four exited the locker room from the opposite doors to those which they came through, and began their way towards the skyport

"How many weapons do you usually carry?" Brawnz asked as they passed into another hallway, classrooms facing them on both sides.

"Eleven, but I own fourteen."

"By the First!" exclaimed Roy, "Why the hell do you need so many weapons?"

"Sorry if it bothers you," the Courier responded unsure, "I'm used to travelling long distances by myself. I need all sorts of weapons if I'm to survive."

"Whe… Where exactly do you come from?" Brawnz asked.

"Southern Vale," the Courier said without a beat, his lie having been prepared hours in advance.

"That explains it," Roy said, with the others nodding in agreement.

"Are you all from Vacuo?" the Courier asked. Brawnz and the girl nodded.

"I'm from Mistral actually," Roy spoke up. "Wanted to see the world, and Haven's just not my kind of school."

The four of them exited the last hallway, and stepped into the hot summer vacuoan heat. The four covered their eyes from the sun before their eyes adjusted. In front of them stood the skyport, bullheads sitting and waiting as the various pilots and crew made last minute checks on the systems. Several teachers were directing students by name to specific bullheads. The four got in line and waited for their turn.

As they approached the front, the Courier noticed the girl staring at him earlier had continued to do so. When she noticed his gaze, she ran into the bullhead whose wings she had been hiding behind. The Courier again noticed the sharp canine ears and briefly rubbed the side of his head.

"Caleb… er… where's the last name?"

The Courier looked in front of him to find a rather youthful looking man wearing some sort of old and open olive army fatigues, with a patch on the shoulder depicting an encircled white wolf's head looking down.

"Ah, that'd be me," the Courier said, hoping the man wouldn't ask any questions.

"You-... Oh… You're… The bullhead is number thirteen," the man said pointing towards a bullhead down near the edge of the port. The Courier headed towards the bullhead, ignoring the visual hallucination of bighorner horns he saw on the man's head. He nodded his head at the three other students he had met the previous day as he passed them along the way, slightly disappointed that they weren't going to be riding the same bullhead.

When the Courier reached the Bullhead he joined with a small group of no more than five other students, lost in their own excited and concerned conversation. These conversations halted as an elderly brunette woman in an expensive looking suit walked before the row of bullheads.

"Greetings, I am Professor Thena Lyons. Today your skills will be tested in a real combat scenario. If you do not treat this initiation with the caution in warrants, you will perish. You will all be dropped off by these bullheads at random points out in the great Avarus Rex," she said pointing to the various VTOL aircraft. "Your goal will be to simply make it to this group of mesas just two klicks west of the region known as 'Sanguine Valley'." A hologram projector in her hand visualized a bundle of mesas that the students could also see in the distance. Their particular formation was unique and large enough that they could be visualized from afar.

"You may have concerns regarding teams, as the standard procedure for huntsman and huntress training involves being grouped within teams of four. During this year's initiation, we have altered the process slightly. Normally, students would be grouped by the professors in the hopes of balancing all members both physically, mentally, and temperamentally. However, this year, the upper level combat schools have all made an agreement to let chance decide the makeup of teams, in accordance with a suggestion from Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy."

There was a quiet murmur amongst the students, with half being worried and the other half being exited. The Courier could only make out bits and pieces of conversations from afar, mostly dealing with how the new system didn't match with what older siblings or parents had spoken of. The conversations died as the woman continued in her explanation.

"As you make your way towards the mesas, you will meet up with fellow students. This year, the first student you come across that has no other partner will become your partner for the next four years," she said ignoring the students' gulps. "Two groups of two will then be partnered to create the teams at the end of initiation. Now, before we begin I must inform you of the… unique circumstances of this year's initiation," she said with a pause. She breathed in and out before continuing. "Due to circumstances, we have an even number of students indivisible by four. Because of this, there will be an odd number of partnered groups. The last group to make it to the mesas will be placed on probation for one whole year, meaning they will have to wait exactly one year to attend Shade Academy. We cannot have teams of a number besides four."

The students did not cry out in fear or begin to loudly panic, instead remaining in a shocked and terrified silence. The silence was only made worse when the professor continued with her explanation.

"To fully test your abilities in a life or death scenario, your progress will not, repeat, not be monitored. You will need to be prepared to fight in situations in which reinforcements will not come. In a few minutes the bullheads will take off. Good luck."

After her speech finished, she left for the central tower, leaving the students to wallow in their panic. After about a minute or so, the pilots told them to board, and the Courier reluctantly entered the ship. It didn't take them long for the bullheads to take off and soon the students were flying over the desert at an unknown velocity. The hold was quiet, as the students stared at each other from either side, each leaning on the walls on each side of the single hold of the bullhead. After two minutes the pilot's voice came over the speaker into the hold.

"Alright we're approaching the site of the first drop off. I'm gonna drop you off one at a time, each one slightly closer to the mesas. The order will be: Kumiho Myeong, Noire Pinot, Caleb, Achilles Yarrow, Mars Delacroix, May Zedong and lastly Gwen Darcy. As hunters, your landing strategy will be of your own design, however it may not be necessary, as you will be partaking in a low velocity, low altitude drop."

"How high of a drop are we talking," a boy with long red hair asked, rather nervously.

"Only about fifteen meters."

That gives us only one point seven five seconds before landing, if we have even ground, the Courier thought, finishing the math just a few seconds after the distance was mentioned.

"You have slightly less than two seconds before hitting dirt or, considering we're near a rather wide erg, sand."

Oh hey, I got it right. The sides of the aircraft began to open not a few moments and the students had to fight the currents of air that lightly passed through the bullhead. Two of the students moved towards the edge.

"Alright, Myeong, Jump when ready!"

The girl waited not two seconds before jumping, disappearing into the dirt hills below. The Courier, figuring he would go after the boy made his way towards the edge of the bullhead. He put a reassuring hand on the red haired boy standing on the edge, who quietly thanked the courier before the loudspeaker spoke up.

"Alright, we've put enough distance between you and Myeong. Pinot, jump when ready!"

It took the boy considerably longer before he jumped, and he fell with much less dignity than Myeong, screaming briefly before hitting the ground.

"I'm okay!" the others on the bullhead could hear briefly in the distance. The Courier decided to look out the bullhead, to come up with some sort of plan to not break his bones when he hit the ground. When he looked out the open edge it took all of his willpower not to vomit at the quickly passing shrubland. The Courier looked for any area that would break his fall in the brief moments he had before it was his turn to jump.

"Caleb! When you're ready!"

The Courier noticed that the ship slowed down slightly, and he quickly sought a solution to his problem before jumping. Noticing a rare patch of soft looking dirt, he took a leap, donning his helmet just before the jump. Air flowed around his body during his brief fall, causing his duster to ride up, his body leaning forward as much as possible as he fell towards the rapidly approaching earth. When his feet hit the earth, his bent legs absorbed the impact and his forward momentum combined with his leaning posture caused his body to roll forward. He rolled twice, feeling the various guns on his back dig into his armor, and he could feel them slightly through the hard metal. When he was finished rolling he looked up to see the bullhead fly off in the direction of the mesas.

Taking his shotgun out, the Courier began his long walk towards the mesas, getting a good look at the desert around him. If he hadn't just ridden a fantasy VTOL from some Academy built on top of a rather medium sized plateau, he would have thought himself somewhere near Vegas. Smiling under his helmet, he felt the hot air of the summer desert through his armor, a familiar heat which had been absent for the eternity since his Transportalponder failed.

Heh… Its home.

The Courier began to jog towards the blue tinted mesas that he could see in the distance. From his current position, they appeared to be around twelve kilometers to the west, and it would take all of the students a good while to reach them. The air was dry and hot, but being used to the desert and having less gear than usual, he didn't feel as overwhelmed as he would have otherwise.

The Courier went on for a good ten minutes, getting only marginally closer. In the distance he could hear gunshots, indicating that while his stretch of the dirt hadn't thrown any challenges, others were not as lucky. He felt such luck wouldn't last and brought out his shotgun, hoping to finally try out the dust shells he had been unable to fire back in Roaring Oaks. He then heard three gunshots, a burst from a submachine gun judging its pitch, much closer than the others. Figuring someone else came across some grimm, he began to run towards where the shots came from.

His vision faded and began to blur, the figures before him becoming mere silhouettes against the beige desert that stood behind them. They had disarmed him, and stood between him and his only chance to fight. His aura reserves were as empty as their souls, and he clutched his stomach with his left hand, holding in the blood seeping from his wounds. His eyes began to water from pain and only a single question could be raised on his lips.

"Why?"

Only one of the dark figures before him approached the other looking nervously over the horizon. Grabbing the injured boy's head, the figure looked into the eyes of the boy.

"I'm sorry, but I can't have my spot taken by some mutt," the figure said flatly, throwing the injured faunus to the ground, dirt clotting on his floppy ears before he caught himself with his right arm. Eyes closed in pain, the faunus did not see the warhammer connect with his right knee, and barely felt it. When he heard his bones shatter from the impact, he could only wince in sympathy out of reflex, before coming to the horrifying realization that those were his bones being broken. Opening his eyes just barely enough, the faunus saw the silhouette of his aggressor walk towards his sitting form, pulling his weapon back for a swing. He could only flinch as the hammer swung forward like a bat, and his body fell to the ground in a heap after the loud crack of metal hitting bone.

The two students stood there a moment, before they continued towards the series of mesas. Neither of them spoke, but the warhammer wielding giant began to clean the red blood off with a rag, while the other looked at his submachine gun if it were a mirror. The latter holstered his gun in disgust as they continued on, unaware of the eyes that watched them from a distance.

The Courier had few worries regarding the other students, figuring they would fight grimm in a similar manner to Jacob Frost, slaughtering them like geckos in a deathclaw nest. However the lack of further gunshots in the direction he had been travelling concerned him, as it likely meant whoever encountered the grimm had either run out of ammo or tripped. The Courier picked up his sprinting pace, his guns dangling back and forth over his body, making a rather bothersome cacophony. The Courier made it to the top of the hill and looked over the desert of shrubs and pits that stretched before him. Somewhat close by were a small group of large beowolves, gathering towards a single location. The Courier crouched down and approached the three, trying to get to a decent enough distance to hit while also giving him breathing room to finish off the rest. He switched his shotgun for the rifle, and began searching their bony bodies for weak spots.

The Courier's gaze wandered down, and he finally noticed what they were surrounding. The first beowolf's head popped open like a shaken Nuka-Cola bottle, drawing the attention of the other two. He fired around five shots into the closest one charging at him, causing the last to trip over its rapidly dissolving corpse. The Courier fired the rest of the magazine into the last beowolf, but it recovered right after the last shot hit. Holding his rifle in his left hand the Courier grabbed the grip of his shotgun as the wounded grimm charged. Drawing it at the last minute, after quickly dodging the creatures strike, he jammed the barrel straight into the creature's gut before firing. A massive hole was formed as soon as the trigger was pulled killing the creature instantaneously. Holstering his shotgun and rifle he sprinted straight towards the collapsed student, relieved that they had yet to tear into his flesh.

The Courier crouched down next to the collapsed student and immediately put his ear to the student's mouth. After determining the student was still breathing, the Courier began looking for where the boy might have been bleeding, though that was much easier said than done. The injured student wore a corslet, with many boiled leather thongs stitched on, and it was covered in red bloodstains. The Courier moved the student's hand from his stomach only to immediately follow by jamming a stimpack straight into the now exposed wounds.

The Courier's brow furrowed under his helmet, and his fists clenched. The student had two bullet holes in his stomach, and he could only guess at why one or more of the students tried killing him. He thanked whatever deity might have been watching over the victim, as he didn't see the inside of the student's intestines. The Courier moved towards the head, as he noticed there was heavy bruising and many lacerations on the face. The student's nose was broken, and there was blood pooling from his head, though the stimpack in the stomach seemed to have slowed it down. The Courier quickly pulled out the doctor's bag. Throwing the medical brace to the side, he pulled out a roll of gauze, as the head was too bony for a stimpack. He began to wrap the gauze around the victim's head, moving his floppy dog ears out of the way.

The Courier paused just briefly, and stoked a finger over the black furry ears. He blinked twice, breathed in, and shrugged before continuing to patch up the dog-eared student, taking care to wrap under and above the dog ears without binding those, as it might cause problems later. The Courier happily noted that the victim's skull appeared to be unbroken, and he found that to be a silver lining. Examining the victim again, he noticed that the lower right leg bent inwards at a slight obtuse angle. He moved to the opposite side of the victim, grabbing the leg brace as well. The Courier straightened the tibia before placing the leg in the brace. Finishing with his work, he stood up and scanned the body one last time, before hearing footsteps behind him.

"Not even a minute of peace huh?" the Courier asked as he turned around, facing seven members of what looked like subspecies of beowolves. They were smaller in stature, like coyotes compared to the normally wolfish beowolves, and they had far less bony protrusions. The smallest ones charged forward recklessly. Pulling out his shotgun he fired off a round into the soft underbellies of the creatures, blasting them apart with each shot. The first three died not even closing half the distance, and the rest looked at their fallen brethren before howling. The Courier reloaded by the time the larger members decided to charge. He shot off the front legs of the two on the right, causing them to trip over their new lack of appendages. As he aimed his shotgun to the left he pulled the trigger as his aim crossed the path of the last two blowing off almost a quarter of their bodies with each pull of the trigger. One lost both of its lungs and the other lost everything above the breast. Looking back towards the two surviving pack members he found one had started to dissolve, the shot having taken more than he thought, and the other was struggling to stand up. He aimed at the bony skull before firing. While the head did not explode like he thought it might, he could see several messy holes and cracks in it shortly before the body began to dissolve.

The Courier reloaded his shotgun and holstered it before turning back to the now stabilized student. He looked up and around, hoping that some sort of medical transport would be coming, only to see the cloudless desert sky stretching in all directions. Sighing briefly, he took out some extra bandages, and wrapped them tightly around the now closed wounds on the victim's abdomen.

He then gently rolled the victim onto his abdomen, making sure the head didn't twist any more than it should. Wrapping his arms around his chest, the Courier gently lifted the unconscious student's body into a standing position while moving backwards, noting he was much taller than himself. Lifting the boy's right wrist, the Courier quickly turned the boy around clockwise, so that their chests were together. Supporting his weight on his left arm, the Courier lifted the victim's left wrist with his right arm, ducking simultaneously, before gently placing him on his shoulders. Wrapping his left arm around his left leg the Courier grabbed the victim's left wrist and stood up, supporting the weight on his back and legs.

After taking the first few steps the Courier saw something glinting in the corner of his eye. Walking over carefully, he noticed that the glinting object was a spear, though it utilized a huntsman's design. The spear was barbed near the tip, smaller spear points angling towards the base. Its head appeared wavelike in its design rather than having straight edges. The weapon would damage whatever it hit more when it was forcibly ripped out than when it first struck. Maneuvering it in his free right hand, the Courier examined for anything, such as etchings or engravings. Finding none the courier slipped it from the base in between his armor and his duster, using the tension and the weight of his passenger to hold the weapon in place.

"I'm guessing the spear's yours huh?" the Courier asked, in a much friendlier and louder tone than normal. When he didn't get a response he simply began walking towards the student's' destination as fast as he could while carrying the larger student. "I know you can't exactly hear me but… I do know how you feel, trust me. Sorry about all this." The Courier's only response was a growling from the side, to which he only responded with a sigh.

This is going to be a long walk.

"You were right, he is like him."

Owyn Lyons turned to his wife, frowning. He wasn't exactly pleased with what they watched through the holoscreen in front of them. Racism had always been a sore point to the Lyons family, to the point that even casual racism was almost enough to prevent one's acceptance into Shade. However, what bothered him was that the perpetrators never espoused any prior racism to this day, and had even been observed to show sympathy to the discriminated. He began to wonder if they would have simply left him alone had the probation period never been mentioned. He felt horrible for it, but the two would have to be arrested, as it was still murder.

"...Are you absolutely sure we should not send the med-evac? Mr. Rain might sustain injuries if not-"

"I am sure Owyn," she interrupted, "if what you said about that injection is true, then the boy should be fine. However, it will be dispatched when they get close to their destination."

"This… this was a mistake."

"I know," she replied with her head down. "But we've already made so many. One or two are just drops in the bucket."

"Drops fill buckets, Thena," he said with a sigh. "Let's… let's see how the others are doing. I trust Caleb to be able to hold his own."

She sighed, swiping the hologram screen before them, bringing up another video. Brawnz Ni had just met his partner as she finished wiping out a small group of ursa. The two were attempting to get to know each other as they made their way towards their goal. "In any case, it seems the Nis' boy finally found a partner. After watching their strange card games the other night, I could have sworn he and either Mr. Stallion or Caleb would become partners. Still, his martial prowess is top notch, anyone would be lucky to be his partner."

"Ah but don't discount Miss Zedong now," he replied, his face brighter, "she's a better sniper than even some of our fourth years. It seems her mother had a hand in her training. Whichever team we decide to place them in will be formidable."

"As will miss Violette's. For the first in her family to attempt to become a hunter she is quite the force to be reckoned with," Thena Lyons said, switching to a camera showing Nebula Violette. She had met another girl, with dirty blond hair and a light green dress. "It seems she partnered with Miss Gayl. If the reports from Oasis were any indication, she's extremely gifted with the use of wind dust."

"Mhmm… Tell me… how are our granddaughters doing?"

Thena Lyons swiped the hologram screen, changing the camera to one which depicted a young woman in rather thick plate armor fighting alongside a dark skinned youth wearing some atlesian ballistic armor and a cape emblazoned with some sort of family crest. They watched as they cut through a pack of latrans, the coyote-like subspecies of beowolves which they observed the Courier fighting earlier.

"It seems our Sarah has partnered with Mr. Greg Kodiak. A kind boy, albeit one who owns a rather large reserve of strength. How he can lift that modified sledgehammer is beyond me, as I don't even think even the staff here could lift that. They seem to work well together."

"Is Sarah alright?" Owyn Lyons asked.

"Do you even have to ask?" she responded pointing to the now dead group of latrans.

"And… Lily?"

Thena Lyons swiped the large screen again, before gazing into it.

"It seems she's still without a partner, though by my guess she'll meet up with either Mr. Yarrow or Mr. Delacroix. I greatly hope she meets the former."

"Why is that?" Owyn Lyons asked. "Mr. Mars Delacroix seems a pleasant person."

"He has high marks in everything but personal combat," she replied pulling up his file on her scroll. "He has a reluctance to hurt others, more specifically, other huntsmen and huntresses in training. His marks in slaying grimm are better than around ninety-eight percent of all applicants over the past four years, however."

"Well then Lily would probably make an amazing partner for him, wouldn't you think."

"Perhaps… I guess we'll see where the chips land so to speak."

Owyn Lyons sighed as he looked at the screen as it spread showing all of the various students some of whom already made it to the plateau. He felt in his gut that the day was going to be a long one.

Oh this isn't good, the Courier thought as his free hand reached into his right pockets. Slamming his hand against his pants pockets, he groaned. He had been carrying the wounded dog-eared student for just under an hour, though he felt only slightly sore around the shoulders due to the improvements made by the Think Tank. The student breathed in and out, and the Courier felt relieved to know that the stimpack seemed to nullify any damage the carrying most likely did to the boy's abdomen. Unfortunately, not everything went well, as they encountered packs of grimm almost every three minutes and the Courier's patience seemed close to snapping. Luckily he could see the mesas extremely clearly, and could even make out some sort of fenced in area near the center of the group of mesas with what looked like a landing zone. However, he felt they still stood some quarter of an hour away, which just exacerbated the current issue plaguing the two.

"Well… that giant gecko look-alike ate our last shotgun shell," the Courier said as he took the shotgun from the loop created by his left hand and holstered it. He then replaced it with A Light Shining in the Darkness, hoping that Joshua Graham's pistol could do enough damage to the creatures of Remnant to put them down. He never would call the pistol weak, having a fondness for the customized .45, rather he would claim many of the creatures of remnant put most of the creatures in the wastes to shame in terms of size and endurance.

When the Courier finally reached the mesas he breathed a quick sigh of relief only to hear a buzzing from behind him. Dashing to the right as quick as he could, he dodged some rolling strike of an armored grimm. Looking behind him, he groaned, seeing a group of the same armored grimm all following the first. Running to his right, he managed to dodge each of their strikes, though one grazed his left leg. When he reached the wall of one of the Mesas he found himself staring at a half circle of the creatures. They stood to his chest on all fours, and they had two tusks on the front of them. For some strange reason, he wanted to call them chupacabras, though he figured they weren't lizards and didn't eat goats.

They looked to be preparing to all charge their rolling attack at once, hoping to kill the Courier through overwhelming force. As he observed them, his eyes widened in realization, and he aimed A Light Shining in the Darkness at the one on the far left, who was the closest to charging. As soon as the creature started to roll the Courier unloaded all six shots at the right side of its hard armor. The bullets all bounced of the armor, doing no damage to the creature as it began to roll… right into the grimm to its immediate right. The first grimm fell over onto its hard back as the grimm it hit repeated the process, creating a short lived domino effect amongst the line, with the end result being the entire group unable to right themselves after landing on their backs. Grabbing the now empty gun with a few free fingers on his left hand the Courier unholstered his rifle. Aiming at the neck of the instigator the he fired, killing the creature instantly. He repeated this process until there was nothing left but dissolving corpses, and dented lead balls.

The Courier holstered his rifle and grabbed a pistol magazine from his left waist. Trading the pistol in the free fingers of one hand with the magazine in the other he began the long process of a one handed reload. After pulling back the slide with the few fingers available on his left hand, he hit the safety and holstered it, and continued forward towards the center.

The mesas stood at a fair enough distance from each other, large shrubland fields separating their bases. The formations were as red as the horizon, with marbled brown streaks. There was enough shade at their bases to cover multiple wasteland shacks, and the Courier could clearly see the healthiest shrubs growing from beyond the shadows' farthest limits. One of the mesas rose slightly higher than the others, and he could see the base camp on a hill at its base. Smiling in relief the Courier began walking towards the camp.

The Courier fell into the shadow of a giant mesa to his left, large cracks at its base. He decided to take a quick breather, to catch his breath and to see if his passenger still breathed. Placing the spear he had been carrying against the rock formation itself the Courier held up a hand to the injured student's neck, as he had done every five or so minutes for the past hour. A pulse could still be felt and it seemed to not have slown down or weakened at all, indicating the student's relative stability. Sighing in content the Courier relaxed for a moment as he looked about.

"So, apparently, according to David, my desire for a dress code involving tiny miniskirts is 'impractical' and 'sexist'."

"...That's because it is!"

"How? Explain it to me!"

"By the First, how long have they been arguing," Brawnz said as he approached his partner. She looked up briefly and made a small sound before relaxing. She smiled softly before answering. She sat on a rock near the edge of the camp, right by the metal fence that enclosed the landing zone.

"About fifteen minutes. I'm starting to worry that I might end up on a team with them. I wouldn't really mind Nolan, but... Roy scares me."

Brawnz chuckled out as he patted her shoulder, "I met Roy the other day, he wasn't so bad. Slightly open and energetic, but not a bad guy."

"If-If you say so," she replied, as she looked over the desert. She doubled back when she looked out at one of the mesas, and she pulled out her sniper rifle.

"Hey is everything alright?" Brawnz asked, grabbing the attention of some of the surrounding students. He thanked the First when Roy and his partner, Nolan Porfirio,

"... I've… That's… Oh First…" She could only say as she stumbled her hands around her pockets for a magazine. Her hands shook so badly that when she finally grabbed one, she nearly dropped it before loading it.

"May?" Brawnz asked concerned. He looked to where his partner's rifle was aimed, and all he could see was a large mesa, its shadow covering the plains. Then he realized why she freaked out when he noticed the shadow overlapped another mesa's perpendicularly, and was creeping forward.

"... That's not a shadow is it?"

"..."

"How many grimm are there."

"... Fifty… Maybe Sixty."

"Oh dust dammit!"

"Wait… They're not heading towards us," she said as she scanned the horizon with her scope, the other students, who heard her reloading their guns.

"Where are they going then?" Roy asked as he sharpened some of the teeth on his sawblades.

"... Oh First no… I found the last students… well student," she said as she looked through her rifle at one of the closer mesas.

"... Why did that go from plural to singular?" Nolan asked nervously as he replaced the electric dust in his rod.

"Only one is conscious. The other's carrying him on their back."

"Wait… Crap! One of them's Caleb!" Roy shouted out.

"Aw Dammit!" Brawnz exclaimed, "Is he the one unconscious or-?"

"... Was Caleb wearing a duster when we left?"

"Yeah," Roy said drawing out the middle.

"It doesn't matter!" Nebula yelled angrily as she ran off, her crossbow in hand. "We have to go now!"

"Wait, what's he doing?" May asked, causing the others to look out towards the mesas, attempting to see what was happening.

This is probably my fault, the Courier thought as he tried gently shoving his passenger into one of the cracks in the mesa. It took him a good minute to get the injured student safely into the crevice. The head was gently placed against one of the walls, which both were tight enough to prevent the student's legs from buckling, as well as preventing any grimm from getting to him. Turning around, the Courier grimaced seeing that the massive horde of grimm coming directly for him.

I should've stripped him, then the clothes would have drawn them off! Why can't I do a single thing right? He thought as he pulled the Gauss Rifle from his back and walked towards the horde. The Courier then noticed it hadn't even been loaded, and he smacked his helmet. Taking out a single shot cartridge filled with Max Charge Microfusion cells, he loaded the rifle, locking the round in the barrel. Taking a calming breath, he watched as the grimm horde grew ever closer pulling the Gauss Rifle up to his shoulder. He quickly looked to see if anyone was around or in the grimm horde, and when he saw he was the only person there, held his breath as he took aim. He aimed towards the skull of grimm that charged in the center, one of those smaller beowolves that he saw earlier, and fired the rifle.

The plasma covered iron slug left the Gauss Rifle fast enough that the rifle bucked against the Courier's right shoulder hard enough to twist his body. The shot hit straight into the center of the grimm's skull, killing the creature instantly. The slug and plasma's makeup caused the remaining molecules in the creature's physical form to destabilize, creating a large green explosion of energy that hit the grimm close enough to be physically touching the creature. Caught up in the released energy of the smaller beowolf's death, they too perished. However, due to the nature of the explosion, their bodies did not dissolve and instead their physical forms destabilized just like the first grimm, creating plasma explosions that caught the grimm nearest to them. This process repeated for all of one second, until the explosions reached the outer edge. With no further deaths, the series of plasma explosions ceased, leaving only a large pond of green sludge where a horde of grimm once stood, and a scare few mortally wounded grimm.

The Courier's mouth dropped and he looked at his Gauss Rifle with wide eyes. He stared at it for a few seconds before petting it and reloading it with a cartridge filled with standard Microfusion cells. He then holstered it on his back, an impressed smile plastered on his lips. He began walking towards the crevice with a careful step, hoping not to make enough noise to attract any grimm.

He made it to the crevice and grabbed the student's hand intending to take him out when he felt the ground shaking lightly. Pulling desperately, the Courier managed to get the student's upper half out of the crevice when he heard an explosion from behind him, and felt the ground stop shaking. Turning around he witnessed as a massive grimm began to crawl out of a hole in the ground.

The creature stood at over twice the height of the Courier when standing on its hind legs, and was, from claw to claw, just as wide. It had the muscles and scaly body of a deathclaw far more massive than even the largest alpha. While its claws were longer, they looked to be made for digging rather than attacking, with their mole like appearance. Though unfortunately they seemed to be able to serve dual purposes if the dark rusty stains were any indication. All along its back were the numerous bony protrusions that defined a grimm.

However the creature's head stole the attention away from the rest of its body, being completely void of any eyes and ear-like protrusions. There were, however, two circular drum like pads on the sides where a deathclaws horns would normally have stuck out. The grimm's snout was slightly longer than that of its similar looking wasteland counterpart, and it sniffed the air in a peculiar manner, like a dog hunting for mole rats. Finding what it searched for, it turned towards the two students, and began to open its mouths. The creature's snout was not more than four, long, tooth-filled jaws-upper, lower, left, and right-with lips that closed at near right angles. It roared, shaking both the air and the ground beneath it, causing the Courier to flinch. When it finished it pointed its snout at him, as if the grimm was staring directly at him.

"Shit."

AN: Meltdown Perk. Always take it. Now you guys know the REAL reason why he didn't use the Gauss Rifle back in the first chapter. Also I would like to point out that this is really the Courier's only advantage over the huntsmen and huntresses of Remnant. He's weaker and slower than pretty much every other student, as he STILL doesn't have his Aura unlocked. This is mostly because no one's told him something like that exists. When he starts fighting other students in sparring matches, don't expect him to hand their asses to them on a silver platter.

Also, I chose the Fireman's carry because it would actually be a SOMEWHAT sensible option, as the only one who could help at the time was the Courier, and he is smaller than the injured student.

A better course of action in such a situation would have been to drag him by his shoulders, but that would involve fighting innumerably more grimm and might have taken hours to reach help. Hours which neither had.

As always, please feel free to leave comments and constructive criticism. I always enjoy reading you guys' thoughts.