A filler chapter(?)

06. Farce

"Ozpin, Why!" That was Glynda outside the boys locker room, her crackling voice managed to pierce through the heavy metal door. He was covered in head to toe in protective gear – not protective for combat obviously, it was a dusty olive containment suit, the visor was completely black from the outside, and the thing would drag his shirt and make it chafe against his skin. His blade was by his side and he held his breath as he tried to guess Ozpin's next choice of words.

Ozpin as it turned out, was great at pretending like he didn't care, he would close his eyes and drink from his mug whenever he had strong emotions, he would guess. There was that one time… "Listen, listen… I think this is a great way to show the new students something-"

"And what would 'That' be?!" Her voice reached a fevered pitched as it deafened the chatter coming from the locker rooms entrance to the arena.

"Whatever that happens will teach someone." He responded sagely, and without any irony. Glynda was silent as the door was slid open and Ozpin pushed his head inside. "You should stay closer to the entrance so when I call you we can save some hassle." Purple wisp gathered around his hair, lifting the strands for a split second before he was silently yanked away, the door slamming and returning back to a faint brown.

...Why did I agree to this?

He was in the middle of raking the fresh leaves outside his 'home' when Ozpin jogged over.

"Hello there." He said. "I'd like for you to do something, it will be quick, I promise." He looked at The Drifter's with eyes full of childlike energy, and without warning he reached out to shake his hand. "Excellent!"

Oh yeah…

"Well, all first years are here. So lets begin this mini test of sorts…" Ozpin was now on the arena floor, and judging by how he could clearly hear them he stood right behind the double doors. The Drifter quickly marched up to them, pressing his ear into the crevasse.

"As huntsmen your main focus is on all things Grimm related. As such the only times where you face against others with your tools is in a spar…" There was some murmuring, much of it was muffled by the even thicker hinged doors. They petered out shortly afterwards.

"I feel, as your headmaster, that you don't fully grasp the dangers of fighting against your fellow man, and the possible horrors that it may lead to..." The words were solemn, and rubbed into The Drifter's mind.

It is kinda scary… Not the killing, just everything afterwards.

Saving people is one thing, having to save someone by killing someone was usually harder, only because they were both related somehow. But what was he supposed to do? He was a cultist, he wanted to sacrifice her as an offering. She yelled and cried at him even as they staggered forward clutching the knife, ready to take the plunge. She was still heaving after her outburst against The Drifter, holding the man she once loved in her arms, her pleas to the unknown god remaining unanswered.

"-Today!" Ozpin's declaration hushed the crowd. "You will be meeting a special guest, and battling him. Please, come out now." Well… It wont be too bad this time…

He stepped into the arena, the crowd became silent as he tentatively took a few great strides up to Ozpin. The Headmaster smiled at him before turning and pointing to one of the students, declaring her to be the 'first combatant'. The girl sped off somewhere, reappearing with a burst of petals standing 5 feet across the raised platform. The first thing he noticed was how short she was, just like the one in the harbour, in fact one of her classmates was the same one he met at the docks.

The next thing was when the block of metal on her back extended and twisted into a scythe that was taller than him. The red body made the entire thing look used, despite how sterile it smelled. He could feel the degreasers, polishing creams and what-not melt his nose and skin through the filters.

Ozpin had re-announced his presence with a clap, "Now, the rules of this match are simple," He walked over to The Drifter and ran his hand up and down the suit. "This suit was an Altesian prototype specially designed to protect against heavy attacks, unfortunately it wasn't very good and could only handle… maybe only one hit. All you need to do is rip it up, any cuts and you'll win automatically…" The girl stared at Ozpin for only a brief moment, behind her he could see her classmates murmuring to each other, before others followed suit.

Wait a minute…

There was nothing else in this suit! It was just an cheap hazmat suit! He's putting his own life at stake! Yes he may be dying but-

Was this because of last time?

After that little incident, the ride back to Beacon was dead silent, Glynda's anger did not leak through, presumably because she had already used it all on 'Team RWBY', who ever they were. When he arrived at the granny flat, she threw him a washbasin with a bottle of bleach and gloves…

"Are you two ready?" Ozpin had moved back up to the walls, leaning forth on his cane. The room grew silent again as the girl begun bouncing on her heels, vibrating with youthful energy. Someone in the stands called out to her, but he didn't catch what was said. It was still a good thing that she didn't know who he was with the suit on, but she knew the weapon, so he was glad that he swapped as her eyes tunneled into his front.

The white blade had split into two, one of the sides bulging out before becoming one again with a small tapered tip. The audience was murmuring amongst themselves at the unceremonious reveal, mentions of a place called 'Atlas' were thrown around. The black haired girl hadn't twitched, the same couldn't be said for his opponent, who kept her eyes locked onto the blade with a zealotry he had only seen in the birdmen. Was she worshiping the weapon?

Their eyes met, and her lips pulled up into a manic grin. Oh, she was a battle nut. He had heard about them from the guards of the town he visited, some people would just come to look for a fight. Not for glory or money, they just wanted to fight, they would meet up with other people who just wanted to fight, and they would all go to the outskirts of the settlement and throw punches till morning came. She reminded him of one such girl, her thick, frilly skirt was the obvious comparison, as was the black with red accents. She would probably look more like a Grimm if it were dark.

"Begin!"

He dashed forwards. She fired her gun behind her, using the recoil to begin an overhead swing. He was faster however, and his shoulder struck her solar plexus, winding her slightly but not pushing her back. Her blade was lined up at him, but when she tried to push down she finally noticed that his blade was pushed up against her scythes throat, even so the man was practically on his knees. The contact point crackled with energy, and her eyes widened at the incandescent spot that grew before she leapt back. Making him stumble forth before shortly getting on his two feet.

She's rather strong for her age.

It was rather surprising to see children willing to fight, but it wasn't a complete shock. He had to deal with some rowdy pre-teens who had taken to shooting every wolf in the forest. They took pot shots at him with their dad's rifles while he was passing through.

"Hiiya!" Oh yeah, he was in a fight. She swung her massive scythe at him once, twice, and a third time and he dashed around her at the end of her combo. Her eyes widened as they tracked him and with haste she 'warped' several feet back, through the red petals that were scattered he saw the weapons head fold in, and a barrel was now jutting out right at him. When was the last time he had deflected a projectile with his sword? Does it even work on what clearly was a kinetic weapon, the sound of a bolt locking was clear indication that it was indeed a bolt action, and that he needed to make a decision.

The Drifter brushed his thumb over the little divot on his handle. If he pushed too early, she'll know, too late and… even from this distance he clearly saw her eyes dilate quite a bit. The blast shook him to his core, the triangular plates dissipated out of existence as he came closer and closer to her.

A little to the left, she shoots, he slides to the right, she shoots again. Shortening the distance was far too easy. Soon enough he was looming over the girl, she shirked back a little bit before knocking him away with the head of her now transforming rifle. The force on his solar plexus was painful and left a dent in the fabric, which refused to be flattened back out no matter how much he pulled on one side. Thank goodness it wasn't the bladed part. She must have realized her mistake as she tutted with a scowl growing on her face.

This suit...

"Think fast!" And he did, there wasn't put much effort into his sidestep, her scythe could only really tear-

A bolt of pink energy knocked the girl off her footing making her skid on her back. Her blade was flying off to one side, her grip was slackened at the sudden ranged attack. The crowd were talking up a storm, pointing at the small pink pistol which leaked a colourful gas from its mouth.

Of course, the goal here is to break my suit, not me… All she needs to do is clip me with the blade.

Fighting with a scythe isn't very practical in his mind, it was a tool to cut plants. The back of the blade is the only way to carve through something. But this was a scythe that turned into a gun. Not only that but he was sure that the black accents on the outer part of the blade were sharpened.

I shouldn't get cocky… Just because the last time someone fought me with a scythe… Well they were pretty fast, not as fast as her.

Pointing the pistol at her again. He found that he was unable to squeeze the trigger. When he looked at his grip it was rather obvious why...

The damn glove had locked to my grip! And that means…

Sure enough his hand was locked in a vice grip, the layers of material compressing and fusing into one taut polymer, but at least one of his fingers was already close to the feather-light hidden button, meaning he could still activate the shields.

It was a wonder that I didn't lock myself out of the gun before. Palming is still pretty difficult.

There was no chance that he could bring the drone along, the blade had already captured the students attention. All eyes were pointed back to him again, still surprised at the sudden new weapon. Some sniggered at the small thing, perhaps it was the floral pink lights.

The sound of motors whirring and metal grinding on metal took his eyes back to the girl. The blade poked out again, but it still resembled a sniper rifle, with a hand grasped around the bolt she dug into her back and pulled out a bright red magazine which she quickly inserted keeping her eyes focused on The Drifter. The barrel of the gun was pointed slightly downwards, at his legs, before it was quickly corrected, still slightly tilted. The bold lines on her face thinned a little as she weakly chuckled to herself.

He pushed his body onto his left foot, twisting it slightly. She caught the errant movements and, at the same time as he dashed to one side, she rotated the barrel of the gun to several steps to the left. Through the distortions of the slipstream he watched as she twisted her hips, and take aim, keeping her eye precisely on him.

If I get hit with that...

The Drifter could feel the hand of death slowly wrap around his neck. Only five and a quarter meters until impact. He could see smoke being forced out from the barrel. Her face was wracked with droplets of sweat, now sinking back into her skin.

Four and a half and he felt his own sweat bead around the base of his eyelashes. The inside of the suit felt more humid, like he was neck deep in swamp water.

Three quarters and he felt the urge to twist and crack his thumb. His equipment hummed along to his growing desire. A bright orange plume was now spiking out the barrel.

Three and a half, he found it hard to breathe. A sonic boom begun and he could see a flicker of brass grow as he approached his undesired destination.

Two meters. He felt himself try to press the hidden button in his blade. Keyword, try. The slug was now traveling outside, it partially jutted out the still bright fireball. There would be a point three second window, otherwise it would be good night.

One meter. His stomach lurched and his mind was flooded by noisy imagery. Maybe it was his life? Maybe it was the best kept secret? He felt himself physically push away both of them. The round was flying faster than he had assumed slug throwers could. Well, it made sense, much of the power in a energy shot is more – burny – than concussive. Both were machined to exact specifications, both were good in their own right.

Contact. She was faintly smiling, not that it would last long. The equipment silently approved and before the slug could hit he had slipped closer to her. The bullet veered off and struck the wall silently. An involuntary squeak came from her lips. Followed by a cry as she was decked. Crumbling to the floor with her weapon loosely in her grips The Drifter gave the weapon a kick and it flew from her hands, reaching where Ozpin had remained. Her view of her weapon was quickly obstructed as a wall of white dug into the arena floor.

Thank god its now over…

Looking down at the girl, she stared back up with confused eyes, and all he could say in response was a shrug. The talking of the students became louder and louder. Before it was once again silenced as Ozpin walked towards the two.

"Well, first-years… I believe this should go to show you the level of the people you may one day fight against." Ozpin sighed. He walked up to the fighters who were now stretching their arms and shaking their hands, The Drifter obviously was still struggling to unwrap his hands from his pistol. "I'd like for all of you to dwell on this match and come up with three things we should all take away from it."

He paused to look at The Drifter, unlike his opponent he remained upright, his fatigue seemingly dissipating away. He turned to look at Glynda, who was stood on the outermost ring.

"Although…"

Glynda woke up suddenly, but her alarm wasn't ringing. Looking at her side she found it had been crushed and tossed next to the laundry basket. As she peeled herself of the bed the events of last night flooded her mind. She felt herself lose hair at every close shave he had to avoid. She felt herself downing an infinite number of painkillers. She remembered storming out when Ozpin had agreed to allow whole teams to fight against him. What's worse was that he was clearly uncomfortable with it! And she just walked out! She groaned as she had to drag herself out of bed and begin her routine. Her joints creaked as she forced her way out the apartment door and into the break room. Under the crack of dawn she could hear the students snoring from below, undisturbed by her stomping. Slamming the door wide open Ozpin stood at the far end of the kitchen, waiting by the coffee machine.

"Hello Glynda. Its quite late for you." She pulled her head towards the clock on the wall, 5:35. Only five minutes late. Five minutes of wasted time. Five minutes to check the arena for cracks as early risers shuttle in. She refocused as a warmed mug was pushed into her hands.

"You should hurry," They pointed towards the container of loose leaf tea, the ornate and vibrant flower patterns remained so for the past several years. With haste she took the still hot dust kettle and begun brewing right into the cup, she had no time to waste with the tea strainer, even as she dumped heaping tablespoons of red tea. As she was about to leave the room Ozpin called out again. "Oh, Glynda, I need to tell you that the deadline has been pushed back to tomorrow."

Her brain was buzzing at the thought "What deadline?" She halted halfway through the doorway. There was a faux gasp coming from one of them as they all looked at her with mirth, the glare she sent their way silenced any chance for glib remarks, and they quickly relaxed their features under her trademark glare.

"Well, we thought that only five days for the essay would be too tight a deadline for the first years." It was Oobleck who dared to speak. "Since the content of the essay spans across, well- all Huntsman subjects. We-" He pointed to everyone else in the room, who shrunk back just a bit with the exception of Ozpin."-believe that one extra day to proof read wouldn't go a miss."

"Yes, although I disagreed on the proposal as they will be also working on another task-" Glynda felt her blood run cold at the reminder of- of… It was getting all hazy, what had happened? When she refocused she found herself leaning against one of the walls. Luckily, none of her tea had spilled out but Ozpin was now drinking from that damned mug of his.

"What task." It was a request that no one could not refuse, not even Ozpin. She faintly knew of the kind of the tone and phrasing that would extract the most amount of information from the man's lips. She grit her teeth just a bit more as imagined the smirk hiding behind the damned mug of his. She didn't know if he was smirking, however.

"Port is planning on giving the students some more hands on experience with the Grimm in the classrooms." His tone was level, unassuming, suspicious, but a part of her fuzzy brain did recall Ports declaration that he will be bringing the Grimm again.

"Is that all?" The sounds coming out of her mouth sounded nothing like her. All the teachers looked at her again with looks of confusion and worry.

"No? Was there something we should've remembered?"

A brief pause, and she murmured "The Arena?" The other staff members looked to each other.

"There was only your lessons, Glynda." Ozpin spoke again, dry as always.

So what happened last night…?

"I'll be going now, thank you Ozpin." She power walked through the still open doorway. Forgetting to close it she could hear Ozpin saying something to her, but it was overtaken by the questions of what had happened last night. It felt so… so real! When she pushed her way into the arena she was struck with the overpowering smell of stagnant dust polymers. Wait- wasn't it always like that? The arena always smelled a but musky from all the machinery hanging above them and the hard light guard rails that she was certain were going to explode, no matter what the technicians say. The arena floor itself was suspiciously clean, she could faintly remember Ms Valkyrie shooting a grenade at him, only for it to be batted back to her. But there was no pock marks or soot clinging to the concrete.

Ozpin couldn't have done this…

The man was many things, but definitely not a builder let alone an architect, the arguments when beacon was under renovations proved that for sure. Port worked with wood, and Oobleck carved bones. Mullberry had no interest in building, and Peach disliked technology…

So *did* it even happen?

The tea in her cup had gone cold by now, over brewed and rich in caffeine. She downed the whole cup just as the earlycomers began to funnel in, a quick scan of the itinerary: more fighting. She turned around to rub the dirt out of her eyes before staring back at the thickening crowd. A deep breath in, out. And she spoke, "Welcome back, second years."

Goddammit...

"I apologize but I must return to Atlas. The medical staff may need to come with me."

"Well, can I ask you why you have been called back?"

"...Happy Huntresses. they did something or other except this time it injured someone…"

"All this could be avoided-"

"Have you tried dealing with them?! You have it easy! You could just sit there with your fingers steepled and they'll capitulate to your nonsense!"

"Well, besides that, this is rare. When was the last time they had hurt somebody?"

"Three years back. Fancied himself a drug lord of sorts..."

"...I see, would It hurt to stay a little longer?"

"We'll see first... I'll ask them for any more information."

END

So I should probably go through the next couple of chapters first...

We're getting close anyway...

Private Life will continue soon, Third chapter in progress.