Disillusioned
The war was more or less over. Salem was beaten and Remnant saved, which leaves him with nothing.
No mission, no purpose and an outsider in his companion's life. His relationship with RWBY was shattered and his friendship with Nora and Ren was strained. Penny's death drove a wedge between him and Ruby, and other matters made it even worse. The rest of RWBY sided with their friend and leader, which he can understand. He can take care of himself.
The last time he saw them was after they sieged Evernight and declared themselves victorious in the war.
It was a bloody and hard-fought battle, many died, and every inch gained was paid in blood. It didn't matter if you were a rogue huntsman, a criminal or a terrorist. All grievances were set aside for a shaky alliance in history's most important battle.
That was a year ago. Now, he is wandering through the kingdoms and completing mission after mission. All by himself, and honestly, he is glad for it. The boy from Beacon is no more. He knows that the friends he once had were distant from the person he has become. He was like a blank canvas when he came to Beacon, white pure and honestly just a child.
That was the person his friends had come to value. War, loss and trauma had changed him in ways beyond recognition. He became cold, stoic, secretive and merciless. Nobody that knows him would describe him as heroic. The dreams of heroism and knighthood were crushed by reality.
Where his friends became more or less the heroes they envisioned themselves to be, he became the boogeyman of the lot. The one making the hard choices nobody wanted to do
If somebody needed to disappear, he made them disappear. When prisoners and high value targets didn't talk, he made them spit out every secret. He became a Machiavellian murderer.
It is funny how much he loathed people like Cinder and Adam, only to end up becoming a similar kind of person. Sure, the things he did were for a greater purpose and for every person he killed, he saved a couple more, but the road to hell is known to be paved with good intentions.
People always romanticize the kind of life we live. To kill for yourself is murder and to kill for the greater good is heroic. The truth is, no path forged through violence is ever heroic.
But the huntsman belief is strong in our culture, no, it was indoctrinated. Through half-truths,
fictional stories and TV shows aimed specifically at children, media, and news manipulation.
I still remember in elementary school how huntsman visited our class to inspire awe. The faces of children, myself included, brightening up. Only years later did I realize the true meaning of this "surprise visit".
They told us great stories of adventures and heroism. Doing the right thing, helping people and being heroes.
Of course, they never told us that most huntsman die in their mid-20s. That the grimm were not some suckers keeling over after punching them once, or that bandits and criminals can even be worse than the most terrifying grimm.
If there is one person he truly resents in his life, then it is Ozpin. Every lie is a house of cards that he built. Nobody was more likely to stab you in the back than the old man. For all his talk about being a hero, the old man is a bigger monster than he could ever be. He had seen it, life to him has no meaning. This entire war is just a petty grudge between two bitter people. It doesn't matter who they drag into the mud with them.
Ruby's early attendance at Beacon, his transcripts coming through, Pyrrha becoming the maiden, being lied to and then being put in line of fire All of it was just the things he knew were happening.
With his reincarnation cycle, it is even more likely that he shaped the entire society the way it is, with all its flaws, maybe even intentionally creating them to exploit them later on.
But that's enough about the old man, I'm no saint either.
The only reason I was not incarcerated for war crimes is because I got pardoned. It's no wonder people would rather keep their distance from me. Most think I lost my mind and maybe they are right.
Or maybe deep down, I was always a bad person. I tried calling myself a healer. Somebody who helped other people, I still do, but more like cancer treatment than saving lives.
So in the end, I still do the same damn thing that I did in the war. Playing doctor and removing cancer. That's the bed I made for myself, so I may as well lay in it.
Another day, another mission.
Bandits have taken over a small village just outside of Mistrall. They have become bold after most huntsman perished in the war. The system in place has failed in most regions and it will take years until peace settles. The war can still be felt outside the big cities. Overabundance of Grimm and scum ruling over villages like warlords.
He scouts the village from a vantage point, at least two dozen bandits, and their weapons are standard Atlas military grade. Probably pillaged from crashed airships. The streets are covered in bodies and blood. Mostly men and a couple of children, no women. Which means they are having the women captured as toys. The village fought back and lost.
That means he has to be smart about this. If he goes in gunsblazing, they are killing the hostages.
So stealth and distraction it is. He waits till nightfall, the concrete wall around the village is around 40 feet tall. He runs straight at the wall, jumps 15 feet into the air, presses his foot flat on the wall and jumps again. When his hand reached the railing, he used his arm strength to flip over it.
There are hardly any guards outside, most of the bandits are probably drinking and enjoying their spoils of war.
So he moves in the shadow fast and quietly. Starting to pick off one bandit after another. Ramming his sword through their throats
Not Crocea Mors, it broke in the fight against Cinder. His new sword, one forged for him and nobody else. Arondight, a black greatsword, had a blade as dark as obsidian and as masterfully crafted as his old one. It is almost wasted being fought with.
The bandits go down quietly, not even able to flare their aura. Soon, most of the guards will be dead.
He wastes no time and heads to their makeshift storage. After taking out the bandits inside the storage, he piles the ransacked dust and prepares a big firework.
The moment the dust goes up in flames, the bandits will come out screaming like headless chickens. Dust is their lifeblood. Without it, they can't operate, so they will come.
Leaving the storage, he hides on the roof of a neighboring building.
Any moment now, the storage will combust.
*Boom*
A thunderous clap and a bright light spread through the entire village. It doesn't take a minute till the first couple guys come in panicked, watching the flames, desperately trying to put out the flames. Their state of undress indicates where they came from and where the hostages are.
So no interrogation is necessary.
He waits a couple more minutes and then heads to the main building, intending to rescue the prisoners.
Jumping in quick movements from roof to roof, it didn't take long for him to arrive. Almost all guards are currently in storage, with few remaining watching so that nobody escapes.
They are not even aware of the possibility that this was just a distraction, they are disorganized and have no discipline. The only threatening part about them are the atlas weapons, if they even know how to properly use them.
Arriving at the building, he sneaks in through a broken window. After clearing the room, he moves into the corridor, where a guard sits on a chair right next to the staircase. Despite the explosion, he seemed inattentive and most likely drunk. He was so out of it that he couldn't even pay attention.
So he just walked straight towards him, dropping the pretense of stealth.
"Kirro, that you?" Slurred the man. Clearly incapable of identifying anything.
He just beheaded the man with a single strike. Watching as his body slammed together and his head rolled down the floor.
He just walked the stairs down until he arrived at the basement entrance. The door was locked, but he couldn't bother looking for a key. So he just forcefully shoved the door open.
Immediately, a horrible stench flooded his nostrils. The smell of rotting flesh, blood and other things he doesn't even want to think about.
The corpses of women in makeshift cells show their state of undress, making the torment they lived through clear. Beaten, defiled and lastly, killed.
Not many things anger him anymore, dulled by the many things he experienced. The horrors he witnessed, he committed.
But he will never ease up to this. This inhuman animal like atrocity. These monsters will pay, he will make sure of that.
He unsheathes his sword once more, going up the stairs and straight to the remaining filth.
It could only be described as a massacre. His black attire, now largely painted red. Corpses and limbs litter the area. The smell of blood and dust in the air.
Nobody would have described this as a fight. It was a one-sided slaughter, with no one spared. Not the begging, not the fleeing and not the young ones.
He sits on a broken roof, watching as the first sunrays shine through the night sky.
He can't recall the last time the end of a mission truly felt like a victory. It's always too late, with no happy endings for anyone.
He knows that stopping these bandits is necessary, but brothers know it's not good for the soul.
It sure as hell isn't the life he imagined for himself.
He starts to distract himself by cleaning his weapons. He starts with his gun, a semiautomatic, high-powered pistol. A big black handgun to put is simple, crafted for him. He disassembles it. cleaning part by part and then putting it back together. Then his sword, carefully gliding along its edges to not cut himself.
After he is done, he contacts the pilot for pickup. He jumps off the roof, heading to the LZ, after an hour of waiting, he hears the roaring of the bullhead.
It lands and opens its rear to let him in. He is greeted by the scavengers. Where his job ended, theirs began. They head out to start scavenging any resource that could be of worth.
The war has left many desperate, besides there is no real point in letting stuff rot there. It's not his problem anymore.
Once more, the engine roars to life and the bullhead starts to take off. What seemed once like an incurable airsickness has long left him.
His next destination would be one of his safehouses in Vacuo. He heard that a brutal street gang has reared its head more than they should've, now he's going to cut it off. After that, he will hunt down whatever secret supporter they had.
He sighs, dragging his hand across his face.
Contemplating once more the life he now lives and how tiring it truly is. Sometimes he wishes he had listened to his father, never becoming a huntsman and living his life with his family in his hometown, Ansel. His grades weren't bad, he could've become a doctor. Instead, he stole some dusty sword in his grand illusion to become the next hero of legend.
He has a couple of hours before arriving in Mistral, where he would take the flight to Vacuo, a little nap wouldn't hurt.
A disgusting stench entered his nose.
Maybe he should take a shower in one of his hiding spots in Mistral before flying anywhere else; he is certainly in need of one.
The shower certainly did him favors, unfortunately, his flight to Vacuo was canceled. An old acquaintance contacted him for a meeting by night in one of the lower districts of Mistral.
In one of the many streets, a scantily clothed woman approached him, clearly a prostitute.
"Hey handsome, for 30 Lien, I let you do it." Her vaelish was bad, the woman looked barely 18. Many schools shut down, and remnants world language didn't get taught anymore. Without proper education, many lack perspective and do whatever they can to get by.
A good deed once in a while wouldn't hurt. He fished a couple hundred Lien out, shoved it in her hands, and kindly told her to get lost.
After a while, he arrived at his supposed destination. A cheap diner at the edge of the lower district. Certainly a place where people could talk unbothered.
He entered and let himself be guided to the reserved table. The acquaintance still has not arrived, well, he arrived early, so it is not surprising. After half an hour, she arrived.
Black hair, a single amber eye and face many would describe as beautiful. A smell of autumn entered his nose. Cinder Fall had arrived. The sudden contact surprised him, he couldn't think of anything she'd want of him. Hadn't she distanced herself from all of this after the war, why come now?
"Hello, Jaune Arc." She casually greeted me, he was already fed up.
"What do you want?" She didn't even flinch at the cold tone, as if expected. Instead, she smirked.
"My, how cold, mister Arc." He was starting to get pissed off. He inhaled deeply.
"Listen, I hardly think you contacted me for pleasantries. So do me a favor and get to the point."
Her body gesture changes, leaning to the right, away from me. Meaning she is anxious, or at least pretending. She starts slowly speaking out.
"I-I need your help." She seems uncomfortable, yet it could still be a trap. But for the life of him, he couldn't imagine why she would gun for him.
He has no assets, is no maiden and nobody would risk their neck for him. There is no motive, yet she is still here, looking at him with a gaze he can't really put to words.
"With what? You hardly need me to kill someone." She looks unsure but continues.
"Nora said that your semblance… has healing properties. I require it."
"You don't seem very injured." She sighs, but puts her hands together and looks me in the eyes.
"The grimm symbiote left side effects that regular medicine can't treat. If you don't help me, then-
"You die." He finished, already aware of where this was going. She continued.
"I understand if you are unwilling to cooperate, given our history. I'm confident I can… find someone else."
"I don't know if I'm the right one for this." She looked disheartened. Is this really the same woman who tore apart Beacon?
"If this is about Pyr-" I interrupted her, my tone several degrees colder.
"This has nothing to do with some dead girl." She looked as if she couldn't believe the things he said.
"The life I live is the one you tried so much to get away from. I am not in a position to go somewhere and play nurse for brothers know how long. I don't know how long you and Nora have been buddies with each other, but if my name drops, I can assume she said plenty of things about me."
She gathered herself, she looked strangely calm.
"Nora talks often about you. She is disheartened by you. She is hurt by the distance." If she expected any reaction from him, she didn't get it.
"She has Ren, she will get over it." Her reaction was priceless, he never expected her to get angry.
"So what? Does it mean that you can abandon her?"He almost scoffed. What kind of sick joke is that?
"I abandoned no one, she doesn't need someone like me in her life. I am not a good man." Instead of backing off, she has gone from angry to furious.
"You didn't even attend her marriage! She was watching the whole time to see if you were going to show up!" He flinched at that, even if barely. He himself got heated up.
"What was I supposed to do! Do you know the life I live? There is no space for sentiments! I can't bring that danger to her. She has gone through so much, they all have." She scoffed at that, glaring at me.
"I know exactly the life you are living. Do these excuses sound as hollow to you as they do to me?" He got angry, no, he became livid.
"Do you think I wanted any of this! To become some kind of heartless scum, hurting all those around me! I became who I needed to become in order to win! None of them had the strength to do what is necessary!" She slammed her hand on the table, cracking it.
"The war is over!" He scoffed at that.
"It sure as hell doesn't look like that. " Her fury took on a similar face, the one at Haven.
"So you are going to get yourself killed because you won't stop. You fight until one day you can't anymore. You don't fight conflict, you search for it!"
"What does it matter what happens to me anyway? I did things I can't take back. I'm already lost."
"I don't believe that. Nora told me about you. You don't even know how much she valued you, you were her first friend aside from Ren. You can be more than this." He leaned back and let the cold numbness of his mind overwash him again, calming him.
"What does all that even matter to you?" She looked as if the matter had already been decided.
"Nora helped me when I needed it, so I think I should help her too. If it means helping some pathetic asshole like you, then yeah, I think I will. Don't even think about vanishing, I will do my best to hinder your operations as much as I can." He furrows his brows.
"So what? My opinion is of no relevance?" She confirmed it.
"If this conversation has shown me one thing, then it is that you lost your mind. So no, your opinion is of no relevance." I sigh.
"You can't be serious." She looked almost sly.
"I assure you, I'm fully serious." What is he supposed to do? If she is friends with Nora, he can hardly kill her. She is most definitely capable of hindering his operations. So his best option will be to go along for now. He grits his teeth.
"Fine, I will help you. However, we will do it on my terms." She smirked with a victorious smile.
"You choose well, mister Arc." He certainly hoped he did
AN: First story, english is not my first language. So please, forgive me.