Chapter 2
Wild World
XXXXX
Blake sat uncomfortably in the hospital waiting room, staring at the book in her lap, despite the fact that she hadn't turned the page in half an hour. So much had happened in the last 24 hours. The White Fang launching an attack on Vale, the Grimm breaching the city's limits, and a coordinated counter-attack by both Vale Huntsmen and Huntresses and Atlas's army. And yet, amongst all of that, this little anomaly was more confusing than anything else. A man in strange armor that had stopped to protect a family from White Fang and Grimm, and two dead men with crude, makeshift armor. All three didn't fit into any frame of reference that Vale or Atlas was aware of.
The only thing that they had to go on was that the man who was still alive had armor that marked him as a soldier. Staff Sergeant R.B. Vickers, blood type O positive. Except that wasn't right. Before the doctors had begun blood transfusions on him, they had tested his blood to be sure, and he was A positive, not O positive. He had still been given O type blood, the blood being a universal donor, but it still concerned Blake. If they had been forced to give him a field transfusion with no time to check his blood and he had not been marked as having blood that was a universal donor, he could have easily have been killed by an ABO Incompatibility Reaction. Why was he wearing armor that identified his blood type incorrectly?
Blake glanced around the waiting room. Despite what one might expect after the walls had been breached, not too many people had been injured. There were still quite a few, but there were more Atlas soldiers in the waiting room than civilians waiting to see how friends and loved ones were doing. Many were looking at the soldiers in confusion, but Blake knew why there were there. Sergeant Vickers was an unknown element, a soldier operating in Vale without permission or reason, as were the other two men. There were signs of battle that had taken place within the city limits of Vale, with weapons that didn't match any weapons that investigators could recognize. Something was wrong here, unknown elements were trading fire inside Vale, ones that had no signs of being from any of the four kingdoms, and Atlas wanted to know who they were and why they were here.
And yet. Sergeant Vickers didn't seem to be someone who wished harm on Vale or its allies. He had protected a defenseless family from Grimm and White Fang. But that still left the question of who exactly Sergeant Vickers was. The only clue they had was the acronym right next to his blood type, USMC, with no idea what meant.
"I'm guessing you've got more on your mind other than Slave to the Sword?" Blake looked up from her book. Yang was sitting right next to her, Weiss and Ruby sitting across from her. Yang looked like she was struggling to stay still for so long, there was a rather fidgety look to her. Still, there was a genuine look of concern on her face. "The guy's going to be ok, isn't he?"
"He should be," Blake said slowly. "But things can always go wrong when people are in his condition. Unexpected complications. If he has pre-existing conditions that the doctors don't know about, who knows what might go wrong?"
Yang smiled brightly. "Oh, that's a rookie mistake. We got good doctors here, some of them who use their Semblances directly for healing. And Atlas is looking over him, making sure nothing goes wrong. He'll be fine." Blake nodded silently. Logically, Yang was right, but something about this entire situation felt wrong and out of place. Like she was missing half of the pieces to the puzzle.
"Ugh," Weiss said from across the room. Both she and Ruby were looking at a scroll together, a news report playing on it.
"Word has come in from the isolated town, not an hour ago, that the White Fang appeared, opened fire in the town's marketplace, and then disappeared," came the familiar voice of Lisa Lavender. "First responders have confirmed that there are, at this moment, at least 14 dead and many more wounded. This attack coming mere hours after the White Fang's unsuccessful attack on Vale has led many to believe that this much smaller follow-up attack is a matter of revenge or spite for the White Fang."
"It isn't bad enough they tried to kill everyone in Vale, but now they lose and they just start murdering innocent people in unimportant towns?" Weiss hissed. "How petty is the White Fang?" Ruby gave a sad mumble of agreement, more focused on the scroll than what Weiss was saying. Blake's fingers twitched in anger. Hadn't enough people already died today?
"Ms. Belladonna?" Blake looked up. An Atlas military officer with graying hair and a white coat was standing in front of her. General Ironwood, a man who had been in the news quite a bit lately as the commander of the Atlas detachment in Vale. "You were the one that brought Sergeant Vickers here in the first place?" Blake nodded. "If you would, I'd like you to come with us. The doctors say that Sergeant Vickers is showing signs of waking up. Since you saved his life, we think it would make things much more smoothly if you were there when he comes to."
Blake nodded as she got to her feet. The rest of her team made to follow, Ruby and Weiss both looking up from Ruby's scroll as they did, but General Ironwood raised his hand. "Just Ms. Belladonna, please. This is a very delicate situation and I'd rather not have the man be overwhelmed."
The rest of team RWBY slumped back into their chairs. Ruby looked like she had just been told off, Weiss looked like she had been insulted and was trying to keep up a polite face, while Yang simply looked annoyed. This wasn't lost on General Ironwood.
"My apologies," he said, giving a small nod of his head. "It was not my intention be disrespectful. Your team has done us all a great service. You were faced with a situation that would have put seasoned and battle-tested Huntresses to the test and you persevered. Thousands of lives were saved because of what you did; you should all be deeply proud of what you've done." The faces of Blake's team all softened. Ruby clasped her hands as her face turned red, Weiss forced smile relaxed and became more natural, and Yang gave a very pleased with herself smirk. "But we've got a lot ahead of us, and right now this situation requires a careful approach. I assure you, your talents will be needed in the very near future. Too soon." With that, he gave Blake a questioning look.
She nodded and followed him as he led her deeper into the hospital. "There are some things I need to tell you before he wakes up. I cannot emphasize enough how much of an anomaly this man is. The working theory was that he was a survivalist who was living outside the kingdoms, but that theory fell apart almost at once." General Ironwood passed a pair of Atlas soldiers that had cordoned off the end of one of the corridors on the hospital's lower floors. There were only a few rooms beyond it, one of which had another pair of soldiers standing guard in front of it. Sergeant Vickers' room.
A table had been set up outside it, strewn with a wide variety of weapons, equipment, and things Blake couldn't even recognize. "He was armed to the teeth," Ironwood said, pointing to five guns and a knife that were lying on the table. All of them with wear and tear to them, with the exception of one. "A semi-automatic rifle, a shotgun, two SMGs, and a pistol." He picked up the short-nosed pistol, which was very elegant looking compared to the rest, though still somewhat battered. It had an odd looking grip, and a phrase on the side in a language that Blake didn't recognize.
"This was strapped to his back, underneath his coat," Ironwood said, putting the pistol down. "And we found a silencer that fits it." He was frowning with displeasure, and Blake understood why. A concealed pistol and a silencer? That was something that heavily implied black ops work or other similarly unsavory fields.
"And the ammunition he was carrying for all these weapons combined could supply a small platoon, a lot of it specialized. There are half a dozen different variants for the shotgun alone." He gave an annoyed sigh. "This selection of weaponry doesn't make any sense. I can create theories for the pistol and theories for the other weapons, but they contradict each other. If he was an assassin, the other weapons draw too much attention. And if he's not an assassin, why the pistol? And the rest makes no sense at all."
He gestured to a large, bulky gauntlet with a green screen surrounded by buttons and knobs. The words "Pip-Boy 3000" were printed on the bottom in fading yellow paint. He then pointed to a small pile of syringes and bottles, unfamiliar labels on them. One of them was marked "Buffout." "I've been going through my contacts in Atlas intelligence, and none of them even faintly recognized any of these. And even the guns confuse me. I've been a military man since I was your age, and I only recognize one model out of these five." He pointed to one of the two SMGs. Unlike the other guns, this one was shiny and looked brand new. "A model commonly used by the White Fang. And considering he was carrying so much ammunition and yet he had nothing for this outside of what's already in the magazine, I conclude he took this off of a member of the White Fang he killed. That matches up with your story about him helping a family under fire."
Blake had to hold back a grimace. She had left the White Fang behind a long time ago, the organization had become rotten to the core, but it still brought her no pleasure to hear that members of the organization had been killed. Many of them were scared and lashing out because they thought it was the only thing that could be done in a cruel and unfair world. Still. They had been trying to kill innocent bystanders. A family of five that had had to drag one of their own to safety because of them. They had put themselves in a situation where the man who had killed them was a hero.
"I had some men examine the area Sergeant Vickers was found, and we located five dead operatives. And a puddle of green liquid with white fang equipment in it. In the middle of a blast zone." He looked at her. "Do you have any idea how much it takes to liquidize a person like that?" She shook her head. "More than we've been able to do with small arms or explosives. And Vickers has no Aura."
Blake paused. "I'm sorry general, you're talking about him like you think he's a threat. I understand being cautious when you don't understand something, but he saved people today."
"I appreciate that," Ironwood said, his voice level, "but this man is still potentially dangerous. None of these weapons are legal for civilians to own without special licenses, which he does not have. His rifle takes exceptionally heavy caliber bullets for its size, some of his shotgun shells are incendiary, and a silencer is simply illegal for civilians to own period. And there are certain indicators he's done things that he feels particularly guilty about." Vickers' helmet was lying on the table, and Ironwood pressed his finger against it. Specifically, what was scrawled on it. "MAMA FORGIVE ME."
"He's a wild card. We have to take precautions until we know more about him," Ironwood said. "I don't intend to treat him as a known hostile, but we have to take precautions." He looked at Blake. "Are you ready to go in? At the moment we're just trying to figure out who he is, where he came from and what he's doing here. Are you up to this?"
Blake nodded. "I've been wanting to know myself ever since I found him." There was a private reason why Blake was more than happy to see Sergeant Vickers, but she didn't say anything. Not yet. Not until she was sure.
"Don't overwhelm him, try to make it natural. Look at me and blink twice if you want me to take over." With that, Ironwood pushed the door open. Vickers was lying on a bed with an oxygen mask over his face and a few tubes feeding him VI fluids, a doctor examining him and two more soldiers were standing guard by the window. Vickers was stirring.
The doctor stood back from the bed, looking angry. "General, I'm glad you didn't end up handcuffing him to the bed, but I find it hard to work on my patient when there are armed soldiers in the room," she said heatedly as she slowly started to remove the VI tubes. "He's stable now, but I'll have to ask you not to do anything that could open his wounds," she added.
"Hopefully it'll only be a temporary measure," Ironwood said. "In the meantime, I do need you to step outside." She turned and strode to the door without comment, almost as if she had been expecting this, shooting Ironwood a filthy look on the way out. "I think I've been more than lenient personally," he said to Blake. " I did let his companion stay." He pointed up. The robot that had been with the family and had led Blake to Vickers was floating up near the ceiling, whirling softly as it looked down on Vickers. Blake couldn't help but notice that the soldiers seemed more concerned with it than Vickers. "Any problems?" he asked, "it hasn't attacked you has it?" The soldiers shook their heads. The robot glanced at Ironwood and let out a series of beeps. "-. - ... -. . - ... .-. .- .-. . -.. ... -... -.- ... .- ... -... .-. .- ... - .. -. ... .- ... ... ... - .-.. ." Blake had no idea what to make of it.
Slowly, Vickers' eyes fluttered open, the man groggily looking around. Then they snapped wide open. He sat bolt upright in his bed, the blankets being thrown aside, as he looked around, frantically tearing the oxygen mask off. Blake tensed and so did the soldiers, but as Vickers' eyes fell on Blake, he stopped. "You," he said slowly. "Where am I?" Vickers was a man who looked like he had more years behind him than ahead. Hair that had mostly gone gray, a fairly thick stubble of the same color, and the beginning of crow's feet around his eyes. He also looked like he had been through the wringer in life, because even though a good chunk of his torso was covered, Blake could see scars from bullet wounds and blades all over it. Even what looked like surgical scars near his heart and a very odd couple of scars on his temple.
"Vale Medical," Blake said with uncertainty. "Best hospital in the city. You were injured and needed medical care." Vickers glanced down. His torso would've been bare if it wasn't utterly covered in bandages where his torso had been split open. Relaxing, he slouched back in the bed, looking flustered.
"Sorry about that," he said, sounding abashed, "bad experiences with hospitals." He stared at nothing in particular for a second, his gaze going glassy before he shook his head. "You saved my ass out there," he said, giving Blake a small smile. "Never seen anyone move like that. Who are you?" As he spoke, the robot floated down and nuzzled Vickers, the man affectionately patting it as it did, before it flew back up to the ceiling.
"Blake Belladonna," Blake said, feeling a little bit of warmth in her chest.
Vickers' smile widened. "I'm James Walker." Blake blinked before looking at Ironwood in confusion, only to find him looking back. James noticed. "Uh. Something wrong with my name? It doesn't mean anything inappropriate around here does it?"
"No, we were under the impression you were Sergeant Vickers," Ironwood said. "It's what your armor said."
James's eyes widened in understanding. "Ah. That'd do it. Well, that armor wasn't originally mine. Thought it'd be obvious that I scavenged it, it belonged to a Marine. That makes it Pre-War by default. Well technically another guy scavenged it first and then I scavenged it when I found his camp long after he died."
"The Great War?" Ironwood asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Blake didn't blame him. James's armor was many things, but it didn't match anything related to the Great War. Why was James lying?
"Not really another war I can be talking about," James replied. "Sorry, didn't catch your name." James's eyes wandered, spotting the soldiers.
"General Ironwood," Ironwood said. "May I ask what you're doing in Vale?"
"Yeah, that," James said. "Ok, cards on the table, I don't know where I really am. I was poking around...a deserted facility and I stumbled into some weird portal thing and got sucked in. No idea how far I got sent. Any chance I could have a map?"
"Of course," Blake said before Ironwood could reply. Pulling out her scroll, Blake brought up a map of Remnant and moved forward. James's eyes widened in shock at the scroll.
"Crap! That's some high-tech stuff you got there," he said admiringly. "Makes my Pip-Boy look like a rusted up piece of junk." Smiling, he took the scroll and looked at the map. Almost at once, it slid off his face. He looked at it for a few seconds before shifting his gaze to Blake. "That's not funny."
Blake blinked in confusion. "It wasn't meant to be a joke."
"Ok," James said. "Can I please get a proper map then? I don't know what this is supposed to be, but it isn't anything tangible." James looked a little insulted, as if Blake had just handed him a child's coloring book when he had been asking for something important. "I-you know what, look. Where's my Pip-Boy? I got a proper map on that, it'll eliminate any confusion."
"A few questions before that," Ironwood said. "We picked up a couple of bodies near where you were found. Two men in odd armor and antiquated weaponry. Do you know anything about them." Almost at once, James's face was covered in disgust and hatred. The change was so abrupt that it almost made Blake take a step back.
"Oh I know them," James said darkly. "Soldiers from Caesar's Legion. They pronounce it Ki-Zar, but most people pronounce it See-Zer. Mainly because f-" his eyes darted towards Blake and he came to a sudden stop mid-sentence. "Because screw them," he finished. "Marauding band of slavers and wannabe conquerors. There's only a couple of things they've not stooped to. Torture, public executions, and a lot of other things I don't feel comfortable talking about." Again, he glanced at Blake. "Wait a minute," he said, a creeping realization working its way into his voice. "You said you found two bodies? As in, only two?"
"Two and an arm," Ironwood replied. His face had been steely ever since James had made the remark about the Great War, but here it slackened a bit. "Why, are there more?"
"Four more," James said, holding fingers up to emphasize the point. "I think their leadership is dead, but if you've got any guards in the area I'd put them on alert. They weren't too heavily armed, but they could still cause some harm if they're not stopped before they reach unguarded civilians. They were wearing the same armor as the ones you picked up." Ironwood nodded before pressing his fingers to his ear, speaking to someone on the other end. James turned to talk to Blake upon seeing Ironwood was busy at the moment. "I would've gone after them myself, but then those Grimm things showed up." He shuddered. "What are those things? How much radiation did they soak up to turn black like that?"
"Radiation?" Blake said, feeling very confused. "I...no one knows where Grimm come from. They've been around for as long as we can remember." She had no idea why James thought radiation had anything to do with Grimm. Sunlight beams and radio waves creating Grimm? Blake was starting to get worried. Not recognizing a map of Remnant and now a nonsensical theory like that? Had he suffered some form of head trauma recently?
Ironwood lowered his fingers. "Thank you for that. I'm glad that you are being honest and upfront with me. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable before I continue with my questions?"
"Little stuffy in here, any chance you can open a window?" James asked. Ironwood replied by shooting a look at one of the soldiers, who responded with a nod. The lone window in the room was closed with a shade pulled over it, something both soldiers moved to rectify. Within seconds, an unlocked window was open, letting a pleasantly cool breeze in. The sun had long since set, and now moonlight was flowing in from outside, the moon perfectly visible.
"Thanks," James said, looking outside with a look of relief before looking back at Ironwood. "Now you said you…" he started before slowly trailing off. He frowned in confusion before looking back at the window. Then his eyes widened. "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE MOON!?" Everyone in the room jumped back, even James, who leaped out of his bed, exposing a rather worn pair of pants that he was wearing, and wincing as he put pressure on his wounds. "I just-it fucking-broken-WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN!?" he shouted, gesturing at the shattered moon.
"Mr. Walker?" Ironwood said, sounding taken aback but still remaining calm. "The moon has always been like that." Behind his back, he made a subtle gesture to his soldiers, who signed back silently. Blake had no idea what he had specifically told them, but she had a bad feeling they would be much quicker to draw their weapons now.
"Bullshit!" James shouted. "I looked up at the damn thing last night! It was in one piece back then." He pressed his palm into his forehead in exasperation. "What the hell is going on!? Ever since I ended up here nothing has made any goddamn sense! Giant wolves that are bigger than I am, people growing dog ears, an underage little shit deflected nearly an entire magazine's worth of bullets with a sword, and now the moon is fucking broken!? What HAPPENED!?" He pointed at Blake. "And I'm sorry, I really don't want to sound ungrateful, you saved my life, but HOW!? How did you move like that!?"
Blake was beyond confused now. He didn't understand the moon, Fanus, Grimm, and Aura? Even the most backwater village situated in the middle of nowhere would know about all of them with the possible exception of Fanus if they were really isolated. "Mr. Walker, all of those are perfectly normal," she said, not sure how else to phrase it. "Any Huntress who didn't graduate on a fluke can match my speed, I'm still in training."
"Huntress?" James said, looking and sounded like instead of an answer he had been given another question. "I just-what the fucking-none of this makes any goddamn sense."
Blake paused for a second, not sure how to reply. Then a thought hit her. "Wait a minute," she said, bolting for the door and exiting the room. Darting to the table laden with James's possessions, she grabbed the gauntlet marked Pip-Boy, and headed back to the room. Stopping in front of James, she handed it to him. "There's got to be some kind of misunderstanding here. Could you please show me where you came from?"
Blinking a few times before understanding what Blake was asking, James nodded and took the gauntlet, affixing it to his left arm. Pressing a few buttons and twisting a knob, James held out his wrist so Blake could see the screen. It was an incredibly poor quality map of some kind of world with six different land masses, although for some reason the upper right one was split in half and seven different continents were listed. James had not been exaggerating when he had said that her scroll made this look like a piece of junk. "There," he said, pressing his finger near the west coast of the north-west most continent. "Nevada, specifically the Mojave Wasteland."
Blake brought up her scroll again, the map of Remnant still on it. "You're here right now," she said, pointing at the city of Vale. The two of them stood there in silence, eyes darting back and forth between the maps. Blake felt frustrated. She had felt like if they had the map James felt was the right one out, and the actual map of Remnant, something might click. Instead, it made even less sense. "How did this happen?"
"Wait," James said, sounding as if he had just realized something terrible. "This planet. What's its name?"
"Remnant," Blake replied. Her mind was racing now, considering the implications of what he had just asked. The name of the planet? No. It couldn't be. Could it?
James looked like Blake had just announced his death sentence. Staggering back, he slumped back onto the bed, looking devastated. He dumbly looked around without seeing, at a lost for words. Then, his hands curled into a fist, and anger blossomed on his face. "KLEIN YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" he shouted.
An awkward silence followed this. Blake was the one to break it. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" James gave an awkward nod. "But how does that work? You know what the Great War was. Earlier, you mentioned it and said that there couldn't be another war that we were talking about."
"Question," James replied, looking rather morose as he spoke. "Did your Great War involve a mass exchange of nuclear weapons?" Blake blinked in confusion. Nuclear whatnow? James noticed her confusion. "Ok, that explains a lot," he said. "I was wondering how the heck you had such advanced technology. And it turns out the answer is that you didn't smash your infrastructure back to the stone age. Heh. Fancy that." He gave a forced smile.
"Wait, what's a nuclear weapon? What do you mean smashed your infrastructure?" Blake asked. Just out of the corner of her eye, she spotted General Ironwood tensing a little bit, but he didn't say anything.
James sucked in a long breath. "Oh boy. Well, quick little history lesson, stupidly abridged. Back where I'm from there used to be a lot of countries and all of them heavily relied on fossil fuels; a lot of wars broke out when they started drying up. Two major powers, America and China, had a massive war where tens of millions of people were killed on both sides. America had the high ground in that war by a couple of centimeters since China technically struck first, but they both crossed so many lines that they were both vile monsters by the end, America even turning around and conquering a former ally just to have easier supply lines. For over a decade the two tore each other to shreds. And then. Well."
He sighed, leaning back in his bed. "Imagine an explosion that's so powerful that it vaporizes all living matter at its center. Kills it so fast that it's utterly painless because you're dead before your brain even has time to register what's going on. But it's also so powerful that, even if you've got some good distance from the center, you'll probably be killed by third-degree burns and debris going who knows how fast. But that's just the immediate effects. This explosion also comes with a nasty little bonus, copious amounts of nuclear radiation. It kills you slowly and painfully, pretty much every cell begins to break down and die from it. If you're extremely, EXTREMELY lucky, you turn into a Ghoul and live, but otherwise, you die. Or worse, go feral."
He leaned back against the wall, looking at the ceiling. "Now imagine something like that happening hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of times all over the planet, targeting every major population center, military base, and anything else that might be of some importance. It was mainly America and China doing it to each other, though from what I understand, pretty much everyone who had nuclear weapons was using them against everyone else who had them. That was the Great War." James snarled, and his voice became very bitter. "It lasted a grand total of two hours. That was over two-hundred years ago. We're still nowhere near close to recovering from it. Governments gone, infrastructure destroyed, environment devastated, and the selfish assholes left us to pick up the pieces."
He sighed again. "I guess we're clawing our way back to where we used to be, but it's painfully slow. The New California Republic only recently got printing presses going again, we have power, but we have to mooch off of Pre-War structures that either didn't get damaged during the war or we cobbled back together, and half of what we use is salvage." He tapped his Pip-Boy. "This was pulled out of a Vault, underground bunker meant to kept people alive through the war." A startlingly bitter and hateful expression crossed his face. "In theory anyway. Turned out that most of them were motherfucking Petri dishes for experimentation." Blake had only heard that much vileness in someone's voice a few times before, and she wondered what exactly James had seen to make him so mad.
That was one of around a hundred different thoughts that were bouncing around Blake's head right now. A war that devastating? One that had reduced an entire world to scavenging and making due with whatever they could repair? That had killed so many people? It didn't seem real. General Ironwood simply stared at James, his mouth slightly open. "How did you get here?" Blake said, unsure how to properly react to James's Great War, and instead deciding that she would ask a question she knew how to actually word.
"Like I said, portal of some kind. It...well, I don't want to go into too much detail, but let's just say some crazy old men and one crazy old lady had this little lab they ran, and I found a portal in there the Legion seemed interested in. Some friends and I had a fight with them, the thing got damaged, and I got sucked in with ED-E. In hindsight, this is the exact kind of asinine thing they would come up with." He paused. "You didn't find anyone else, did you? A man with a beret and sunglasses, a woman with a cowboy hat and bulletproof vest, anyone in stupidly big armor or decidedly not human looking?" Ironwood shook his head. "Not sure if that's good news or bad news," James grumbled. "Probably good, but hard to say."
Ironwood gave a look at the two soldiers. "You two are dismissed, report back to your usual posts." Both soldiers saluted Ironwood and left the room without a word, closing the door silently behind them.
James watched them go with suspicion. "Ok, elephant in the room, I got the feeling that they were there to shoot me the second you felt like I was dangerous the moment I saw them. What changed?"
"After your story, I have reached one of two conclusions," Ironwood said. "One is that you're telling the truth, in which case you're just a lone person lost in a world you barely understand, or that you're deluded in this view of another planet, in which case you deserve my sympathy more than my hostility." James gave a wry smile and raised his middle finger in Ironwood's direction. "Ironically, the more bizarre explanation is the one that has more evidence backing it up, considering how otherworldly some of your equipment is. Either way, I've mostly deemed you to not be a threat. Mostly. May I ask how you turned White Fang operatives to goop?"
"Plasma grenade," James replied. "Pre-War weapon. Damn powerful and useful. Kinda sucks that I only have two left now though," he said. "Come to think of it, I'm probably gonna have my work cut out for me getting resupplies for my weapons. Also, I'm throwing this out there on a faint hope, is there any chance you have any technology that's capable of teleporting someone from one planet, or world, or dimension, or whatever I came from to another." The long silence directed at him spoke volumes. "Had a feeling it was a long shot. So. Where do we go from here? Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'm effectively homeless and broke here. Safe bet that all the money I have is worthless here."
"I believe I can help with that," a voice said as the door opened. Blake felt a shock go through her as Professor Ozpin stepped into the room, cane in one hand, a scroll in the other. "James?"
"Yes?" Both James and Ironwood said. There was an awkward pause as the two of them looked at each other. "One of those situations, huh?" James said wryly.
"General in that case," Ozpin said. "I got your message about our guest and I was listening at the door for the last part of the conversation and I think I have the gist of it. You no longer consider him a potential threat, correct? In that case, it's safe for me to talk to him and make him an offer."
Ironwood nodded. "Very well. I'll probably have a few more questions for him, he only gave me a partial picture, but I can have those later. I'll have my men bring his possessions in and if you're doing what I think you're doing, that should handle the matter of him having those weapons. Though do be careful Oz." Blake frowned. There was something odd about the way Ironwood and Ozpin were talking to each other. It was friendly but strained. As if something had happened between them. Before anything else could happen though, Ironwood left.
"I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage," James said, looking at Ozpin. "Professor was it?"
"Yes," Ozpin said pleasantly. "Head of Beacon Academy." James stared blankly. "It's a school where we train talented young students to be Huntsmen and Huntresses, men and women who fight Grimm and keep people safe. I hear you're in need of work and a place to stay. Tell me, what experience do you have?"
"That's a long one," James said. "Well, my go-to job was courier for a while. It let me travel a lot, so I liked that, but I've done odd jobs all over the place. Caravan guard, regular guard, I acted as an interrogator one time and tricked the guy into thinking I was one of his people who had snuck in, smoothed over diplomatic ties more than once, did some bounty hunter work," he shuddered, "met some nasty people in that line of work, thankfully nearly all of them are targets. You haven't known disgust until you've met people like Cook-Cook and a crazy lady with a knife she calls the emasculator. Aside from that, I've done plenty of what can be classified as merc work for the NCR, that's New California Republic by the way, and seen more combat than I can remember."
"How many people have you killed?" Ozpin asked bluntly. "If I may ask. You've done both mercenary work and bounty hunter work? Exactly how much?"
James looked very uncomfortable. "We talking direct combat here? As in, with my own two hands? Or are we talking anyone who directly died as a result of my actions, intentional or otherwise? Like, if I left a stove on by accident and someone lit a match in the room, we counting that?" James's entire body had gone tense and his fingers were curling a bit. Blake knew that look all too well. She had gone through it herself. The feeling of an uncomfortable subject that you really didn't want to talk about.
"Directly," Ozpin said, his warm smile faltering for just a second. "I assume you didn't go out of your way to kill any innocents?"
"Of course not!" James said, sounding offended, his tension slipping away as soon as it had come. "I can promise you that if I put a bullet in someone's head, they had it coming. As for how many, hold on, let me think. Let's see...there was Goodsprings, NCRCF, Primm, spent a lot of time fighting Fiends. The Legion, let's see... the ambush on the road to Novac, Forlorn Hope, Nelson, Cottonwood Cove, the raid on Bitter Springs, plus the assassination parties, and can't forget Hoover Dam. After that, there were the White Legs. Add in some desperate Jackals, Vipers, and Freeside thugs, that's at least a dozen or two. Those four Brotherhood assholes. The Ghost People, no who am I kidding, they stopped being human a long time ago. Oh, and the White Fang too. Ok. If I had to take a wild guess, people only, I'd say I've killed...around 250 people."
The number hung in the air, staggering with its implication. The number of people Blake personally knew didn't even reach half of that number, and he had personally wiped that many out. "And you're certain they were all deserving of death?"
"Well, let's see," James said dryly. "Wannabe anarchists with a TNT fetish, drugged up bandits that tortured and mutilated for fun, the aforementioned slaving conquerors, a tribe that wanted to join the slaving conquerors, run of the mill thugs that tried to jump me, a few bull-headed zealots that massacred aid workers for pitiful reasons, and as of recently, terrorists that fired without hesitation on civilians. I'm fairly certain. None of them had any interest in doing anything other than being total monsters."
"What kind of world do you come from?" Blake asked before she could stop herself. Remnant had its problems, there was no getting around it, but it sounded idyllic to wherever he had come from.
"If I'm being honest, I ask myself that question twice a week," James said. "I wish I could tell you. It's called Earth by the way. Not exactly the most creative name, and really "water" would've been more accurate, but I wasn't there when they named it." He turned his attention back to Ozpin. "You aren't planning on making me a teacher, are you?" he said hesitantly. "I don't think that's up my alley. You need, you know, actual qualifications for that."
"Oh certainly," Ozpin said. "No no no, far too quick to be offering you a teacher's job. Particularly in the middle of the semester. You need years of experience for that." A sly smile played around his face. "For a teacher's aid on the other hand, not so much." He nodded at Blake. "You've already met Ms. Belladonna, one of my first-year students at Beacon. I'm pleased and proud to say that I have a very talented body of students, one that has exceeded my expectations and held their own in unexpected situations where their lives were on the line. However, while I don't think you would be a good fit for a head teacher, I think you have potential as an aid. I hear you held your own out there, even though it sounds like you never fought a Grimm before."
"I killed three," James said sourly. "She killed seven. Frankly, when it comes to killing Grimm, she'd be the one to teach me. As much as can be taught about killing giant wolves, anyway."
"True, but there are smaller little details that you have that my students don't, things you've picked up from a long life. It would be beneficial to pass them on. In a support capacity that is," Ozpin said.
"I don't know," James said uncertainty. "This sounds like a permanent position, and I have to say that I was never the type of person to stick in one place for very long. Even when I stayed in one general area for an extended period of time I tended to move from town to town a lot." He gave an annoyed grunt. "Though to be fair, I'm out of options. I've got a big bag of caps and NCR bills that are worthless here, and I don't know where else to look for work. But I just don't know." Blake was sure she had misheard the word cap. "Oh wait, I got one thing that's worthwhile. Blake, did they pull out a bag of coins when they were going through my things?"
"I'm not sure, there was a lot," Blake said, starting for the door. "Should I check?"
"Please do," Ozpin said. "And please bring your team back with you. I get the feeling Mr. Walker might be able to make his decision more easily if he can see the type of bright young minds he'll be working with. In the meantime, I feel like I have a lot to explain to him." Blake shot Ozpin and appreciatory smile as she slid out of the room. Outside, two Atlas soldiers were gathering up some of James's possessions, specifically his clothes and armor, and moving towards the room. Blake stopped at the table, scanned the small mountain of items, and spotted a small drawstring bag.
Taking it, she opened it and poured out the coins into the palm of her hand. Most of them were silver, depicting a young man, but a couple of them were much larger and gold. The majority of the gold coins depicted an older man, but one depicted a woman with a cleft lip. "They use this as money?" Blake wondered out loud, pouring the coins back into the pouch. It felt like something out of a museum. She continued on her way to the lobby, not sure how she was going to break all of this to them.
When she was halfway there, she realized that in the confusion of learning where James was from, she hadn't gotten a chance to ask her question. Though, considering James had mentioned an "underage little shit," with a sword, she had her answer anyway. "Adam," she whispered, "what are you doing?" Grimacing, she pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she drew near her friends.
XXXXX
As Blake left the room, ED-E let out a string of Morse code. It took him awhile to get through it, making it impractical in the heat of battle, but James was still glad he had taught the little robot it. "I like them both. They're nice."
"You think everyone is nice," James replied as the door opened again and some soldiers in silver armor dropped off his clothes and armor before leaving. "Thank god," he said, taking off his Pip-Boy and getting up. "Hope you don't mind," James said, gingerly getting to his feet, careful not to strain his throbbing chest, and starting to work his clothes on.
"Not at all," Ozpin said. James wasn't sure what to make of Ozpin. He struck him as the eccentric old grandpa that always knew just a little bit more than he said. A stark contrast from Ironwood, who felt well-meaning but certainly had one hell of a stick up his ass. Waking up in a hospital under armed guard had been a highly unpleasant experience, but at least no one had taken any of his organs out when he had been unconscious. He hoped. "But tell me, you seem awfully surprised by Blake's abilities. Do the words Aura and Semblance mean anything to you?"
"I met a couple of junkies who told me I had a negative aura once," James said, sliding his shirt on and then moving to his chest plate, buckling all the appropriate straps into place. "I'm pretty sure they were on both Jet and Buffout at the same time though. Aside from that, no."
"Aura is what enabled her to move like that," Ozpin replied. "Aura is a manifestation of the soul." Instantly, thoughts of Joshua Graham flooded into James's head, and he had no idea how to reply. He had never been particularly religious, and he always felt awkward when caught in a conversation about those kinds of topics. He never knew what to say. But almost as if Ozpin could read his mind, he continued. "Not in the spiritual sense, but in the very real, physically observable sense." Now James was good and lost.
"What?" he said, stumbling halfway through putting his coat on. "I mean...what?"
"All living things have a soul, even plants, and Aura is a physical manifestation of it," Ozpin said, calmly and warmly. "It increases your strength, acts as a shield, permits you to move faster, and allows you to heal faster. Everyone can use Aura, but it requires a great deal of training, and the Aura of many is too weak to bother. It only makes them slightly stronger, for Aura reflects you as a person, and it takes a strong will to have a worthwhile Aura."
"You'll forgive me if I don't want to spend years trying to weaponize my soul only to figure out I was a dud," James said wryly, which earned a laugh from Ozpin.
"Of course not," he said warmly. "There's an easier way to do it. A skilled enough Huntsman or Huntress can use their Aura to activate someone else's. And considering that it would be in your best interest to have an active Aura if you're working at a school full of young people with powerful Auras, well. I'd be delighted to activate yours." Ozpin held out his hand.
James eyed it wearily. "I still haven't said yes to that job offer," he said, trying to equate the pros and cons for all of this and coming up with nothing for either. This was so beyond his frame of reference that he had no idea what the hell he was doing anymore. "I feel like you're trying to entrap me with benefits up front."
Another laugh from Ozpin. "It certainly looks that way, doesn't it? Well, consider this complimentary. Even if you don't work for me, I still think you'll be needing your Aura to get by in this world. I know you're a talented fighter, but Remnant can be very dangerous, and you're going to need every last advantage you can get your hands on." James continued to stare, and as he did, he remembered the redheaded boy who had so easily wiped the floor with him. There were people like that boy out there with the capability to kill him with a flick of their wrist if he stayed the way he was now. And it was with no strings attached. Well. Screw it.
Hesitantly, he reached out his hand, taking Ozpin's. "Thank you for trusting me," Ozpin said, before squeezing James's hand tightly. "For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee." James felt dizzy. Ozpin seemed to be half fading in and out of existence in front of him. And then something inside of him blazed into life. The next thing that he knew, he felt stronger, fitter, and healthier than he had ever felt in his life, and a bright green aura was pulsing around his body.
Pulling his hand back out of reflex, James looked down at his hands, the green glow surrounding them slowly starting to fade away. "What the shit?" he whispered.
"That's your Aura," Ozpin said gently. "I'd say it's around average in strength and size. I've met Huntsman and Huntresses with far weaker Aura than this, but those who were far stronger as well. I suggest you take some time to practice with it. Your Aura can protect you from harm, but not passively. You have to actively maintain it in order to do so. Aside from that, the only thing left of notice is your Semblance. Most qualities of Aura are the same from person to person, varying only in terms of strength, but Semblance is different. It's an ability each person with a strong active Aura has, unique to that person with a handful of hereditary exceptions."
"Ok," James said, feeling mostly confused with a little bit of unexpected excitement being mixed in. As bizarre and somewhat alienating as this whole experience was, the little kid inside of him that had gleefully read whatever scavenged copies of Grognak the Barbarian was practically jumping up and down with excitement at this prospect. "So what's mine?"
"Semblances can't be unlocked the way Auras can. Once your Aura is unlocked, it comes on its own time. Sometimes in the heat of a life or death situation, sometimes in the middle of typical physical exertion, sometimes it just happens. We can't find out yours until it activates." He adjusted his glasses, looking at the Pip-Boy James had taken off. He blinked. "Oh, my. That's odd. It's never happened like this before."
"What?" James said, pulling on the one right glove that he had before sliding his Pip-Boy onto his left arm. And then he saw it. On the screen of the Pip-Boy, Vault-Boy was dressed as a ringmaster, spinning a cane in one hand and holding a top hat in the other, kicking his legs as he did. Words blazed across the screen. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO WILD WILD WASTELAND! ONE SPIN EVERY 24 HOURS, AND YOU'RE ALWAYS A WINNER! SO COME ON DOWN, DON'T BE A STRANGER, AND ALWAYS REMEMBER TO HAVE FUN!" The very center button on the Pip-Boy was now labeled "spin" by the screen, with the rest of the borders of the screen still the same, but with "Wild Wild Wasteland" now crammed into the corner. He looked up at Ozpin. "Is this safe to use?"
"It should be, but just to be safe," he said, taking a few steps forward to the point where he was only a few inches away from James. "My Aura should be more than enough to contain anything that is less than pleasant. Go ahead. See what you've unlocked within yourself." Here goes nothing James thought, pressing the spin button. At once, a virtual slot machine filled up the screen, Vault-Boy in the corner with betting slips in his hands as he chanted silently at the spinning wheels, cheap noises that he had heard constantly from New Vegas slot machines now flooding out of the Pip-Boy.
After a few seconds, all three of the green wheels came to a stop, each one stopping right after the last, and all of them the same. An image of Vault-Boy using a pistol to blast another person into tiny, bloody pieces. "WINNER!" flashed on the screen, and there was a bright flash and a small pop. A magazine appeared in James's free hand. Blinking, he held it up to eye level.
It was indistinguishable from the magazines he used for his rifle, complete with a 12.7mm round poking out of the top, but there was one exception. A sticky note posted to the side with a smiling face on it and two words. "Bloody Mess." Glancing back at the Pip-Boy, he saw Vault-Boy throw up his betting slips and start to do a happy dance between the slot machine vanished and was replaced by a counter that started from 24 hours and began to tick down. "THANK YOU FOR PLAYING! PLEASE COME AGAIN TOMORROW!" Hesitantly, he gave the Pip-Boy a poke. Hitting the spin button did nothing. Hitting the map button brought him back to the map as it normally did, but "Wild Wild Wasteland" was still there in the UI.
He looked at the Bloody Mess magazine again. "I don't think these are normal bullets."
"Most likely not," Ozpin said. "We'll see exactly what they are when we get the chance. I must save Mr. Walker, I've seen many a dazzling Semblance, many an overwhelming Semblance, and many a devastating Semblance. But I think yours takes the prize for being, by far, the strangest Semblance I've ever seen. Only one use every 24 hours? Unlike anything I've ever seen before."
"Seems like a handicap," James said, flicking through the other functions of his Pip-Boy to see if there had been any other changes. "And I'm guessing the slot machine means that whatever it does is random?" Ozpin gave a small shrug. "Not sure how to feel about this. Still, I do appreciate the gesture." He slid the Bloody Mess magazine into his coat. "So, all of this is basically magic," he continued. "Magic is real." That got a very odd reaction out of Ozpin. His smile got a little too wide at that point. "I mean, the closest thing we ever had to this back on Earth were Glowing Ones and a few psychic mutants. It's fucking magic."
"Not exactly," Ozpin said, his smile still just a little too wide. "Magic is still the stuff of fairy tales, this is very different." James had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes. He had seen a girl make a copy of herself out of shadows and he had just pulled a magazine out of thin air. Ozpin could split hairs all he wanted, but magic was magic. "Oh, two more things," Ozpin said, reaching into his pocket and producing the same type of device Blake had used, as well as a small stack of plastic cards. "10,000 Lien and a scroll. You'll be needing both. Lien is our form of money, you can see the number indicating their worth in the corner, and a scroll is a communications device. You can contact anyone else who has a scroll, no matter how far away. It can do a lot more than that, but I don't want to overload you."
"And this is if I take the job?" James asked, looking at the money and scroll. He had no idea how much Lien was worth compared to caps or NCR dollars, but the stack was a little thick, and he doubted he was a small amount. Maybe Ozpin had money to throw around, but James doubted that he would be giving this away idly.
"It's for you even if you don't take the job," Ozpin said. "And one last addition. If you take the job and decide you don't like it in the first month, you can leave with no strings attached and the month's salary." James weighed this. Ozpin really wanted to have him on board. And truth be told, it was sounding like a very good offer. There were just two things holding him back at this point.
"Look. No offense, this place sounds great, but I'd like to get back to my world, however I can," James said. "And I don't know why the Legion was looking at that portal thing and I don't know if any of them went through before I found them. If I'm gonna be spending time in here not going home, I should be looking around to make sure there aren't any legionaries lurking around." Then he remembered that Ozpin had not been in the room when he had explained that to Ironwood. "Legionaries are a bunch of conquerors from my world, slavers, rapists, killers, that kind of stuff. I don't know why they were looking at the portal that brought me here, but it can't be any good."
Ozpin fingered his staff as he looked at James. "Wanting to stop these men is admirable, and wanting to return home is understandable. However, I don't think you're in any condition to do either. Not only do you have no means with which to return home or any resources with which to search for one, you have no idea where these legionaries are. Remnant is massive, and they could be anywhere in it." Ozpin paused, looking as if he was deep in thinking something over. James had a funny feeling that the other man was mentally debating how much information he was willing to share.
"What's more, there's something I feel I haven't explained properly. Teachers at Huntsman Academies aren't simply teachers. We're defenders as well. Grimm breached into Beacon today, and we were on the front lines along with the rest, pushing them back. If this Legion is a threat, I will be looking into it along with James," James groaned internally at the sound of Ironwood's first name. That was going to be annoying. "And with my other contacts. We will find them if they're here. And when we go to deal with them, I'll be needing your experience with them. And I also promise to do everything in my power to help find a way home for you."
Well. Fuck. Best Job offer I ever got in decades. Best offer that wasn't pitched by a prick anyway. There really wasn't anything else to say. "Ok. Ok, you got me," James said. "So. I start tomorrow?"
Ozpin laughed. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but school isn't in tomorrow, and even if it normally was, it would most certainly be canceled after what happened today. On top of that, your Aura will speed up your healing and a doctor who has a healing Semblance took a look at you, but you should still take a day to rest and recover before you start working. In the meantime, I'll arrange to get you a key to one of the spare rooms in the teacher's dorm. I imagine you don't want to stay here overnight."
"Not if I can help it," James said, picking up his helmet and affixing it so that it hung off to his side. "Thank you for this, by the way. I've had complete strangers pull my ass out of the fire before, but it never stops meaning the world to me."
"Oh, I'll be giving you some pointers tomorrow during the day, but there's one thing I think I should mention now. I'm going to have to ask you to not swear in front of the students." James felt himself turn a little pink in the face and nodded. Is it too late to go back on this? Thankfully, at that moment, the door opened, and Blake returned, three other girls right behind her. James blinked as they all filled in, caught off guard by their outfits and just how colorful they were. Red, white, blue, yellow, black, purple, all of it jumped out at him and was far more vibrant than anything he had ever seen in the wasteland. "Ah, girls, just in time to meet the newest member of Beacon's staff. This is James Walker, he'll be working with us as a teacher's aide. I trust you'll give him the same respect you gave me."
"Of course," a girl in white with a ponytail that was the exact same color said. Giving a graceful curtsey, she walked forward and held her hand out. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Walker."
"James is fine," he said, uncertainly taking her hand and shaking it. "Mr. Walker makes me feel old."
"You are old," ED-E beeped from the corner. James flipped ED-E off with his spare hand behind his back.
"Ohhhhhh," a girl in red and black with matching hair and a cape said, noticing ED-E. James started to wonder if it was in style to have your clothes match your hair color, it seemed to be a factor with all of these girls. "What's that? Does he talk?" Walking forward, she held her arms out, her mouth quivering with excitement. "Come on boy, I won't hurt you." Almost at once, ED-E floated down into her hands. "Aw, he's sweet," the girl said, hugging the robot.
"He kinda talks," James said, feeling warm at the sight in front of him. "It's in code though. He can't handle complex speech, so we had to make do with that."
"Hiya!" the last girl, a blonde with hair so absurdly long that it was only one foot away from dragging on the ground, moving forward and grabbing James's hand as soon as the one in white let go of it. The first handshake had been gentle and polite, this one was far more energetic and excited. "Blake told us a lot of crazy stuff about you! It'll be really cool to have you as a teacher."
Blake in the background gave a mildly amused look before pointing to the members of her team. "Ruby Rose, our leader," she pointed at the girl in red. This confused James. Most of the girls looked to be either eighteen or seventeen, but Ruby looked a couple of years younger. "Weiss Schnee," the girl in white, "and Yang Xiao Long. Oh, and Yang and Ruby are sisters." If he had not been told that, James would never have guessed it. The two hardly looked anything alike. They didn't even have the same last name. There was doubtless a story behind that.
"Ruby, is there any chance you could do me a favor?" Ozpin asked. "Our guest here barely knows anything about Remnant. Is there any chance you and your team could take him out into the city tomorrow to get him acquainted with it? Some extra credit could be arranged for it."
Ruby didn't seem to need the incentive, because she had already given a tiny little hop of joy. "Omigosh sure!" she squealed. "Oh boy, we're gonna have to get through so much! Yang, I'm gonna need your help coordinating this! We're gonna need a to-do list in the next hour, stat!" Yang gave her sister an enthusiastic salute before producing a scroll and beginning to type furiously into it, the screen quickly filling up with words. James was trying to wrap his head around technology being able to do that when Ruby turned her attention to Weiss and Blake. "Any suggestions you have, send them to Yang, she'll organize them all."
"She always ignores my ideas," Weiss grumbled, folding her arms in a huff.
"Weiss, none of us know how to ballroom dance," Yang said, not looking up from her scroll or her mile a minute thumbs. "We would've all embarrassed ourselves."
"That's why I wanted you all to take classes first!" Weiss protested. "It's fun and not that hard to learn!"
"Meh," Yang said, continuing her typing. "We're out there too have fun, it's not fun if you need that much prep time." James had a feeling this was going to go on for awhile.
"Well, Mr. Walker," Ruby said. "It's gonna be real fun learning from you! It's pretty impressive that you took out some Beowolves even though you never met them before."
"Wait, I thought they were called Grimm," James said, sounding confused.
"Oh, they are," Ruby said, her bright gaze flickering for a second. "But there's a lot of types of Grimm. Beowolves are one of the more common types, but one of the smaller ones too." Oh, James thought. "Like, you should see a Nevermore or a Death Stalker. They're as big as a truck!" OH!
At that moment, an Atlas soldier walked in with James's rucksack, wordlessly depositing it on the bed before leaving. As he did, James reached into it feeling around until he felt a glass bottle and pulled it out. It was almost empty, a mouthful or two of dark amber whiskey inside. Pulling the cork out, James idly lifted it up to his lips and downed what little was left, his throat burning as it did. "Could you repeat that please?" he said as he lowered the bottle.
"Uh, don't worry, you'll be fine," Ruby said, trying to sound reassuring but not quite managing it. "I mean, we did. And you're way more experienced than us." ED-E nudged her arms, and reluctantly she let him go. The eyebot hovered back over to James before circling his head. "I mean, they all go down if you shoot them enough."
"Well, I suppose I've thrown myself in the deep end and managed to not drown before," James said dryly. "Multiple times. Sometimes with a ball and chain. But hey, what's one more?" I'm going to get myself killed someday, he thought.
"Well, I just arranged a room for Mr. Walker," Ozpin said, pressing his thumb into his scroll. "I'll get him settled in and you four can pick him up in the morning.
"Ok!" Ruby said happily, all four girls waving as Ozpin headed towards the door and James began to follow him. "See you tomorrow Mr. Walker." James waved back at him, wondering exactly where this bizarre turn in his life would take him, and how many new scars he would have when he walked away from it. Assuming he walked away from it.
XXXXX
Author's Note: I didn't realize until I started writing this story that James and Ironwood have the same first name. Oops.
Also there was one stupidly bad RWBYxBloodborne fic I read once that actually introduced an interesting idea. It started with usual badfic tropes, like when the Bloodborne MC gets de-aged to a teenager (because for some reason it was taking after the anime thing where protagonists aren't allowed to look over thirty) and he got folded in Beacon as a student. But then he got made a teacher. In context it was fucking dumb, he quickly proved to be a god awful teacher, except I don't think I was supposed to think that, and he looked like a teenager, so the whole thing was laughable, and with is without getting into what a goddamn edgelord the kid was. But still, the idea of a crossover with the person inserted into RWBY is a teacher instead of another student for the umpteenth time stuck with me. I even toyed with the idea of a Bloodborne character teaching Beacon students about Bloodborne specific enemies just in case the Beast Plague ever spread in Remnant. And now I'm using the idea here, although I plan to toy around with it in ways I don't think you guys will expect. The point is, in my experience a lot of RWBY crossovers who put someone in the world of RWBY like to make the newcomer one of the kids. Personally, I'm more interested in depicting them as part of the older generation.
Also, I have to say thinking up James's character took a lot more work than I thought it would. I didn't want to just take the Courier and put in whatever character I felt like, I wanted to create a character that felt like a Good Karma, pro-NCR Courier, (albeit one that wonders if he should've gone Independent.) The Courier travels a lot, idly leaving to go on expeditions outside of the Mojave and has been confirmed to have been to Reno in the past, so it sounds like they're a drifter, and therefore so is James. Things like that. I'll be talking more about the decisions I made in his character as the story goes on because believe me, I put a lot of thought into this.
Also, the added on explanations for Aura are me trying to have it make sense that someone with strong Aura can activate someone else's Aura and Atlas hasn't done this with every single one of their soldiers for some reason.
Ok, I promised I would work on my other fics before continuing this one, but the words just kept coming and coming, and next thing I knew I had written another big chapter in under a week, so consider this a bonus before I get back to work on From the Ashes and Stupid Deaths.
I would like to thank my Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, Ryan Van Schaack, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, and Josue Garcia for their amazing support.