Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth and WB, I own nothing.
"Episode I: "The End of a Fable;
Hello Space Cowboy..."
Beneath a shattered moon
There once was a kingdom here.
There once was a kingdom here, as near to perfection as mortals can make. Its people were noble and kind, their lives long and prosperous. They extolled valor, and the names of their heroes resounded through the generations. They praised wisdom, and their academies enriched both mind and spirit. The arts thrived as painters, sculptors, musicians, dancers, dramatists, poets, and more immersed themselves among like kinds. This kingdom was one where an age of enlightenment arrived, and never waned.
There once was a kingdom here, and its cities spread to the horizon. Its buildings touched the sky, each a marvel of beauty. Man tamed nature; desert and tundra became another place to call home. Ten thousand ships sailed the sea, ten thousand granaries filled to bursting. This kingdom was one of plenty, and ever on the rise.
There once was a kingdom here, until Salem returned.
Man rise, man fall. End of story.
…
...Isn't it funny? That all that they've created, all that he created could end in a fortnight?
The wizard, the last survivor of the capital, the victor of this worthless battle, thought so as he knelt in the crumbling ruins of what had been a palace.
For two thousand years he guided his people, seeking utopia. He believed he had found it. His kingdom, his best effort, possessed no flaws. It was to be his triumph over the machinations of Salem and her Grimm hordes, a land without negativity for his people were the very paragons of what their kind can be. Should she ever reemerge, heroes would step forth in ranks uncountable to stand against Salem's evil. He was so, so sure that this time it would last. How wrong he turned out to be.
Two thousand years he had to build, two thousand years she had to prepare. The Grimm came unending to shatter the land. What people that survived were now being hunted.
The wizard had no tears left to shed, his heart numbed by the vision of his world in ruins. The hundreds of beasts he has slain would not bring a single person he loved back to life.
He held no more rage, it had vanished with two questions, and the same succinct answer. The Relic of Knowledge, lost in calamity long ago, had returned to his possession too late. In hope, he asked Jinn, the Spirit residing within the Relic of Knowledge, of how he could save his kingdom. She replied, with a disdain for him he never fully understood, that he cannot.
In despair, in wrath, he asked what his heart had never wanted to know to until today.
How could he destroy Salem?
Jinn revealed, to the pitiful worm, that he cannot.
The Brothers gave him a mission impossible to accomplish. Salem has won, again. She will win, forever.
He knew what was expected of him. Those who yet live would run and hide from the Dark Tide. Perhaps, miracle of miracle, some would find a haven from which mankind may recover. Were it so, his soul will one day find its way there, and the cycle would begin anew.
Yet, for what purpose?
Man rise, man fall. A story retold.
The man who could not die, at last, saw the futility of his endeavor. He beheld the true suffering that awaited him for the rest of time. His lot was to push a boulder uphill, watch it roll down, and do it all again.
The burden proved too heavy to bear. His mind released its tenuous hold on sanity.
"Heh. Hehehe. HeheheheheahahahaaHaHaHahHahAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAA… ahhhhhhh." Ozma happily sighed.
There was a sense of liberation to be found in complete and total defeat. Without a chance of victory, what remained was pure, simple spite; a desire not to win, but to ruin the game. For him, one of the world's finest intellect by dint of sheer experience, the myriad paths to advance from here bloomed forth, a far cry from the handful of doomed ideas that he had been reduced to in the last few go-rounds. A vicious, vicious grin broke out on his face.
"Fine. Fine. If you can never be defeated, then you can have this Brothers-forsaken rock. All of it!" He threw back his head, shouting at the sky. "I'll go elsewhere, and I'll take everything of worth with me. With the relics, with as many people as I can. Away from Remnant! To wherever the Gods went! I can do that!"
He returned his gaze to the ground, searching the cracked marble floor for the object he had flung away in his grief.
There.
Scrambling over to the discarded lamp, a blue vessel ornamented in gold, the wizard hugged it to his chest as if it were his child. Gone was the earlier disgust, replaced by the reverence he used to feel whenever he stood in the presence of the Relics. This time, though, his thoughts were not spurred on by worship, but by a gleeful anticipation.
"It must be possible. Right, Jinn? A way off this world? Wings, or... or ships or what have you that would let a mortal sail beyond the moon?"
From a blue fog emerged the Spirit Jinn, long of hair and skin the tone of her lamp, shackled by golden chains. The man's eyes narrowed upon seeing the restraints. He had not thought much of them before. He could not help but see himself in the same manacles, now. His gaze trailed up to the face of Jinn, who'd noticed what made him grimace so, to see the kindest smile she had ever given him. She made to speak, the answer to his question on her lips.
"How do we get rid of those?" He interrupted.
Taken aback, Jinn blinked. A soft chuckle soon arose from her throat, and when she responded, it was without a hint of her usual mocking tone.
"So many questions you ask, Ozma. After a span of one hundred years, I can only answer three. Once three are known, a hundred years more must pass. You've asked two questions in this era. Choose wisely of the last... and know that I can bear to wait."
Quite. A hundred years passed as days for people like them. Nevertheless, the man peered at her face, searching for any sign of regret. Only after seeing none did he relent.
"If you are sure."
The wizard fell quiet for a time, contemplating how to proceed. It remained all too possible for him to receive the same response as the first two times. Carefully, he considered how to phrase himself, holding each word up to the light, rolling them on his tongue. He came to the conclusion that however eloquently he said the question, he still cannot eliminate every risk of failure.
Nothing for it, then. The future shall be a gamble.
Throwing caution to the winds, the wizard asked the question that would decide their fate.
"Jinn, how do we journey amongst the stars?"
And the Spirit showed him an answer.
~o~
In time immemorial, on a remnant of a world, a broken man hatched a last ditch plan. He united the scattered tribes, and together to the stars they ran.
The man guided his people to new worlds, ushering in an era of exploration. His ship sailed ahead, a thousand followed in its wake, and life spread throughout the galaxy. Once his work was done, he bade a final farewell and disappeared into the pages of history.
Millennia passed, and the pages continued to turn. Stories unfolded and closed, some remembered and some lost to time. New characters arose, heroes and villains and more.
One such tale begins now.
~o~
Far, far future, in a galaxy a long ways off
The situation that Blake Belladonna, cat Faunus and budding explorer (tourist) of the galaxy, has found herself in was...not ideal.
Hmmm, 'bad' might be better put. Though, even that still failed to convey the proper connotation.
Ah. Dire. The word she was looking for was 'dire'. Two weeks ago she would have said that 'perilous' worked too, but the context used for that word in the novel she was reading leaned on the side of delightful rather than dangerous. The cramped escape pod designed for two people lacked a bed (or any conveniently flat surface) and a dashing rouge enamored with her; as of two days ago, the pod also lacked most of its air supply, fuel in the main power source, drinking water, and any sort of sustenance, sooo… dire it was.
How like the bad times of yesteryears. She, and pretty much everyone she knew in her life, were no stranger to these conditions. There had been days when she woke up with clawing hunger, and went to sleep with the same. She had traveled, mining pick in hand, into cramped areas limited in air, where she would dash madly back and forth while holding her breath in order to complete her daily quota.
Back then, she had hope to spur her on. Hatred, when hope waned. Her family, always.
Here, she was alone.
"So hungryyyyy..."
"Would! You! Stop! Complaining! We are all—*stomach growling*—*whimpers*"
"Peh. You've got no room to talk, princess. And how about you don't rag on my sister when I still haven't heard a thank you for saving your ass!?"
Oh, how she wished she was alone.
"Do we look saved to you? What possessed you to think it was a good idea to throw out the food supply? We're going to die of starvation because of you!"
Don't worry… because the lack of oxygen will take us first, Blake refrained from saying out loud.
That shrill cry belonged to Weiss Schnee, one of the people she had met in their desperate escape from the pleasure cruise ship Sherry Waltz and, on a very relevant note, a bit of a magnet for pirates looking for ransom targets. She was, by all accounts, heiress to one of the wealthiest family in the nearby sectors of the galaxy. Their main business was in energy sources or something, Blake didn't know for sure. She'd heard of the white-haired girl mainly by her musical works, which she had loved. The depth of emotion in those songs resonated with her on a level she could scarcely explain, music being another new experience for Blake. The shine faded quick once she discovered just how high the star's vocal range can go in this cabin. Her poor ears were still ringing.
"We needed the room! We could have left you to the pirates instead, so be grateful!"
You threw out too much. There's enough empty space here for another week of food. Still, it's a moot point since, well, oxygen…
Possessing a long golden mane of hair and a level of beauty Blake swore cannot be real, Yang Xiao-Long appeared raring for a fight. Racers of the Redline were a different breed, reckless to a fault, or so she read. Which sort of worked against them here, because the girl tended to act first and think never. Her actions saved their lives on multiple occasions, but had also put them in positions where they needed saving just as many times.
"Please don't fight, I'm sorry for complaining! And…and I'm sure we'll be okay. The distress signal is still going strong, so someone will hear us soon."
Oxy…ohhh, never mind.
Ruby Rose, upon meeting, was nothing special beyond owning an Invisi-Cloak, and even that had been old and malfunctioning. After activation, the thing spent more time being red than invisible (y'know, the complete opposite of inconspicuous). Blake thought her meek and helpless right up until she volunteered to sneak into the pirates' midst (using the defective stealth system!) and unlocked the door to the evacuation bay. Later, once Ruby jury-rigged some of the redundant systems of the escape pod to extend the range of their signal, Blake had to revise her assumptions. Now, she suspected that Ruby was a master assassin under the veneer of a chipper, innocent teen.
The soothing optimism (or hidden killing intent) in the younger girl's words returned a semblance of order to the group. Weiss sighed, curling into a ball of misery. Meanwhile, Yang gave her sister a thumbs-up in acknowledgment. When Ruby turned away, however, her cheerful mien crumbled into worry.
Tucked into the foot space of the cabin, Blake observed them in fretful silence. Were this home, among her people, her father and mother would have stood up to share words of comfort with everyone. They've never failed to buoy her spirit in the worst of times. How she wished to have someone like them here, offering reassurances to her and the others to dispel this somber air. Sometimes, hope was all that one had, and all that one needed to carry on for another day.
...
...
What if she were to be that someone for them?
Amber eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. Blake considered this new possibility.
Unquestionably, it was a mad idea. She'd be the first to admit that her quiet disposition rarely lent itself to public speaking. Yet, the need was there and the solution was simple. She did not have to act as herself. Instead, she can follow the example of those who were far better suited to the task, channeling their charisma in order to instill within her companions a desire to live on. She could be like her parents.
With the idea burrowed deep in her mind, Blake had to go for it. Ears perking up in excitement, she straightened her posture. She mustered all of her courage to voice herself loud and clear.
"We're still okay. Just don't talk. Conserve air or we'll die."
Wisdom and inspiration conveyed, she returned to motionless rest; mind serene, heart composed.
Her face fell in her hands, then she dropped both between her knees to avoid their judging stares.
Ahhhhhhhh! Hope, my foot, ahhhhhhhh!
She sounded like a damn Bothead, tone cold as ice. Not only that, she forgot to draw their attention beforehand, too, so her words came out of nowhere. They must think her an absolute nut!
At this point, she would welcome death.
*KA-THUNK!*
...This was not her fault.
Four bodies drew together unbidden as the escape pod became awash in green light. The frosted-over porthole showed the exterior view carrying the same green tint, but afforded them little clue of the cause. Small tremors began running through the interior of the cabin and, with a lurch of her stomach, the slow drift of the pod shifted to a higher speed.
Weiss recognized the effect before everyone else.
"It's another ship! They're towing us in—"
"We're saved?" Yang exclaimed, disbelieving.
"Or doomed. It could be one of the pirate ships going after Weiss."
Oops. An ill-timed sentence, and burgeoning elation transformed to terror. Blake bit down on her tongue, lest she said something else she would regret.
Weiss pressed herself into a corner, hyperventilating.
"No,nononono this can't be the end!" Her eyes darted around the cabin in a futile search for an escape.
"If it is, then they won't take us alive." Yang's declaration caught their attention, they looked to her and saw that her expression had hardened. She cracked her knuckles, eyes riveted on the door. "The moment they open up this tin can, we have to strike fast and hard. Capture some of them and we might be able to negotiate. Ruby?"
"Yeah, Yang?"
"I'll jump out first. Try to go stealth, and sneak around them. Blake, Weiss—" She met their gaze. "-are you in? It's better than cowering in here until they grab us."
Weiss appeared uncertain, nearly in tears; unsurprising since she most likely never threw a punch in her life. The girl glanced at Blake, who returned an encouraging nod. With their backs to the walls, it mattered not if they were brave or scared, strong or weak. The only proper course of action was to fight.
Blake placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, squeezing lightly in support. Letting go, she turned towards the door and shifted into a crouch. After a pause, she heard the soft whisper of fabric behind her as Weiss took up her own position.
"T-thank you, all of you."
"Yup, yup! What are friends for?"
"No bigs, princess. I've always wanted an adventure."
"Same, even if this wasn't how I expected it to go."
Outside the window, the empty void gave way to smooth metal. Contrary to what she expected, it looked clean. Gleaming, in fact, where the ship that attacked the Sherry Waltz bore a rusted, cobbled-together appearance. Perhaps, this was the true side of a pirate ship, lurking underneath a façade to throw others off the scent. In that vein, could the filthy, lecherous pirates who stormed the cruise ship also be a mere disguise worn by gentlemanly scoundrels akin to those in the romance novels she read?
Blake recalled the behaviors of the criminals she encountered days earlier, and shook her head.
Blech.
Further musings cut short when the escape pod came to a halt. The opening through which they entered shut, safety locks engaging to seal the room airtight. The pod touched down with a clang.
Nothing happened for a time, leaving the band of four to continue waiting in a tense silence. Sweat poured down their brows and their breaths came in short rasps. Blake wondered if the sensation of a stifling heat came from her imagination or from the oxygen finally running out.
An abrupt series of beeps jolted them from their stupor. Ruby ripped open a panel to check a display.
"They've taken control of the pod." A light flashed red. "The door's unlocking."
Yang exhaled a shuddering breath, and said in false cheer, "Good! It's about time they let us off this ride. Zero outta ten, never again."
The joke received wry chuckles, more to ease their nerves than from actual hilarity. Mirth faded once they spotted movement outside the frosted porthole glass. The four women braced for imminent contact.
With a hiss of air, the door swung open.
As one, they charged.
"Heyo! Anybody ordered a pizzAAAHHHH!"
The four stranded passengers had seen one target, so all four dove for the same. Their assailant had thrown up his hands, offering zero resistance. And Blake did not realize how that action made no sense whatsoever until they've already dogpiled him. Thus ended one of the shortest battle in history.
As she stared into a pair of deep, blue eyes, Blake played back what the person said. A suspicion that things were not as she assumed crept over her. Mutters of 'pizza?' and 'heyo?' from her allies (possibly accomplices, now) confirmed similar thoughts running through their heads.
"Yang?"
"Yeah, Ruby?"
"Are we the baddies?"
The chest she was laying on rumbled as the man laugh.
"If you are, then by all means continue with your dastardly deeds, because—not gonna lie—this is pretty nice." Blake fought a rising blush; she stopped trying to squirm her body out of the heap.
A lull, then Ruby spoke again.
"Ummm, Mr. Stranger?"
"Yes, Ruby?"
"Heheh, heh... I'm guessing you're not a pirate."
"Nope."
Above Blake, Weiss whispered in a voice tinged by disappointment. "And I was so happy I won a fight, too."
"You technically did," Blake said, "He just so happened to be unarmed and non-threatening at the time." She addressed the person below her. "If we let you go, will you attack us in retaliation? Or do that 'suing' thing I've heard people talk about?"
She was quite curious about how the latter worked. Ideally, she would have wanted to learn from the sideline, because it sounded like a harrowing ordeal going by the conversations she overheard. Still, they do say nothing begets understanding better than first-hand experience.
The stranger shook his head, and said, "Believe it or not, this is one of the tamer first encounters I've had. A tad more air in my lungs would be great, but other than that, I see no reason why I should invite lawyers into my nice, clean ship. Those things are almost as bad as talent agents, you know."
Blake made a mental note to look up the unfamiliar terms he rattled off later, and it was starting to look like there would be a later. She had heard him say pizza, too. That was food. This sounded more and more like a rescue.
One by one, the people on her back stumbled to their feet, easing the weight pressing down on her. After Weiss hopped away, Blake rolled off their vict—benefactor!—their benefactor. She offered a hand to pull him upright, which he gratefully took. Once done, Blake let go and stepped back to rejoin her group. Together, she and her companions took a good look at the person who had saved them.
The man appeared of a similar age to them, though the boyish grin lent him an innocent air. Blond hair in need of a cut had been carelessly swept back so as not to cover his vision. He stood a few inches taller than her, and those blue eyes she had gazed into belied his experience, for he carefully observed them as they did him.
The hands placed on his hips drew Blake's attention to the laser pistol holstered on his right side. White in color, the ovoid-shaped body connected to a long but thin barrel, the length of which was interspersed by small rings, tapered by a spherical tip. A flowing gold scrawl decorate the side of the pistol, forming words she cannot make out.
Durable boots, in blue, extended a few inches to his shin where it gave way to black pants, fitting snug on his frame. Up top, he wore a white jacket of synthetic weave, embellished by swooping arcs in bright gold that intersected each other at various places. Underneath, he had on a t-shirt, plain and unassuming but for an icon emblazoned on his chest. It looked like—
"A bunny?"
"No? I'm human. My name is Jaune Arc. I heard your distress beacon, so I brought my ship over."
Air left her lungs. Her eyes went as wide as saucers. The name resounded as thunder in her ears. She knew of him.
Jaune Arc. Jaune Arc! He said this is his ship, that means I'm on—!
"Welcome aboard the Honey Starbright."
Authors Note: Some time in a bygone era, Oz must have thought of a plan similar to James Ironwood's brainchild.
"Why don't we take this city, and move it somewhere else?"
Then he laughed and moved on, thus leading to the canon world we know.
Here, he hit full despair, threw up his hands and said, "Why not?", thus kickstarting an intergalactic civilization. For the lack of monster-hunting, gunsword, magical-girl action, we shall never forgive him.
Hoho, looks like Jaune isn't the usual bumbling nobody. And Blake isn't her jaded, worldly self from RWBY canon timeline. Pourquoi?
Influenced by different space operas (Bebop, Redline, Yamato), but mainly Space Dandy, an anime with one of the deepest synopsis in all of history.
"Space Dandy is a Dandy guy in Space."