A/N: Here we go; the perfected version of "Vector Prime", as promised~!
Hopefully folks enjoy it; if not, I'll likely delete within a few days or so and put it back in the bin.
Sorry for the delay. Covid knocked me flat for awhile and devastated my update schedule, to say nothing of the side effects from long covid. I'm still dealing with that more than a month later, though apparently its not life threatening so I have to just "ride it out" according to the docs.
Sometimes, when I look to the future, I wonder what will become of things when I'm gone.
Of course, I try not to dwell on the latter overmuch; I'm still alive and still writing. In an ideal world, I'd like to keep doing so for as long as I can. But old age is catching up to me and these days, the world is filled with so much madness and death. Feels like everyone's lost their minds sometimes. Even before that, so many friends and fellow writers I once knew are gone, now. Will I still be here in twenty years? Ten? Five? Its a chilling thought. But for now, I'm still here, still writing.
So here we go. The fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this tale, and many others.
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They're tributes to legends far greater than I.
I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild, wacky world, one word at a time.
Time and feedback will determine what remains a story and what doesn't. Simple as that.
In other words...the fate of this is up to YOU, the reader. Doooo let me know~!
References to A Most Unlikely Pretender, which, yes, I'm still working on.
Running around updating a lot of categories today.
So in lieu of a long explanation...away we go~!
"Don't do that.
Don't give me hope."
"I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you sooner."
~?
Vector Prime
So this is what dying feels like, eh?
Having your tailed beast ripped right out of you.
Suppose there are worse ways to go. I've seen a few.
Really, its fine. There's no pain. Doesn't hurt at all. Its fine...
.
..
...who am I kidding? I don't want to die. Not like this. There's still so much more I wanted to say, wanted to see, wanted to swear!
It can't end like this! I won't let myself be snuffed out like a candle. Keep moving forward. Even if you die! Even after you die! If you lose yourself in the past nothing will change! Advance! Cast aside all doubt, all fear, all regret that weighs you down! It doesn't matter you live as hero, an anti-hero, or a damn villain! Just live! Survival is all that matters!
Strive! Persist! Endure!
Reach for that light!
REACH...!
(.0.0.0.)
Light flooded his darkened vision as his world shattered anew.
A woman's despondent wail trickled into his ears.
"It's a boy? No, no, no! Why is it a boy?!"
Naruto opened his bleary eyes.
And promptly swore.
'Aw, crapbaskets...
(.0.0.0.)
James Ironwood was not prepared to be a father.
It was a responsibility he had not expected, let alone asked for, but fate thrust it upon him nevertheless.
In all fairness, he had only himself to blame. He was young. A moment of weakness on his part, a night of foolish youthful passion, and it came back to bite him.
Karma, as they say, is a bitch.
She showed up on his doorstep one wintry morning, just before dawn, wrapped in a dark cloak, clutching a tiny bundle against her bosom. He suspected then, but didn't dare believe it -didn't dare let her inside!- until he heard said bundle mewl softly. The moment he heard that sound, he was lost, no two ways about it.
Even then he tried to rally, tried to be the good soldier, tried to follow orders.
But there were no orders here, were they? No orders, no soldiers, nothing.
Just two people and the crime of passion.
"Willow," he tried to speak, only for it to emerge as a pained croak, "What have you done?"
"I?" a peal of bitter laughter tumbled past her lips as she ducked her hooded head. "Don't you mean we? We did this. We let this happen. Now here he is."
Something fluttered in his heart, then. "He?"
...please look at your son, James."
She peeled back the cloth.
Ironwood's throat closed as he beheld the babe.
As expected, the little lad had his mother's pale hair to be sure, but those eyes...there was no telling where he'd gotten those. Certainly not from his side of the family. They were red as blood. A mutation perhaps, or some other anomaly of his genes. He didn't know. And what were those whiskered cheeks? The boy was human to be sure, not a faunus, but those almost looked like scars, no...whiskers on his face?
"I'm sorry, James." Willow shoved the newborn baby into his arms. "I can't raise him. I just can't; you have to take him."
The boy had gone silent; almost as if he were listening to them. Comprehending them. Nonsense, surely.
"He's yours." the Schnee matriarch babbled on. "I haven't been with anyone else. Not since," she looked away, ashamed. "...Him."
Jacques.
Never before in his life had James wished to murder someone so badly.
But he couldn't now, could he? No matter his desires.
Good soldiers followed orders.
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
Calm. Step back. Consider her words.
Ordinarily his semblance was a bane, but today it was a blessing, if only just. It allowed him to be logical about this, to make a mental retreat and think. He didn't deny that the boy was his. He knew. He accepted it. The question that remained was thus. What should be done with him? He had a rising career in the military. A child might well slow him down; no, it undoubtedly would.
And yet...
"His name is Victor." Willow shuffled closer, perhaps sensing his wavering thoughts. "Victor Ironwood. I named him after your father."
"..."
"James, please! I don't want our son to grow up and become like that man!" when he didn't respond, she clutched at his arm. "You must keep him safe! Jacques will kill him!"
That was putting it lightly. Jacques Gele -he would ever be one, no matter what the world said now- was rotten to the core, tainted through and through.
'Perhaps its time someone excised the rot once and for all. Lanced the boil, as it were.'
No. That was his semblance talking again. He couldn't simply kill a man because it was convenient.
Maybe arrange an incident? Such wouldn't be hard. One could even blame it on the White Fang.
'Yes, arrange an accident, kill him, wed Willow, take the Schnee name for ourselves.'
And just like that, he loathed his semblance again. Mettle was truly a curse.
'Wouldn't it be easier to run Atlas if WE had all the power?'
What then? When did it end?
'Whenever we wish.'
And then from there-
NO!
James recoiled from that thought and fought down a convulsive shudder that had nothing to do with the cold. This was not how a general should behave. He was a good man. An honorable man, despite his lapse. He was not his grandfather. He never would be. He couldn't be.
Power will not corrupt me.
Paranoia shall not break me.
Pride...pride cannot control me.
He chanted the words like a mantra in his mind until his semblance receded.
Wrestling himself away from those treacherous thoughts, he looked to the woman he'd once loved more than anyone else and had an awful, gut-wrenching epiphany.
"Why give the boy to me?" his metal arm betrayed him and reflexively clutched his son close, even as he said he words. "Why not an orphanage?"
Willow clicked her tongue; he couldn't see her eyes beneath that cowl, but he glimpsed pursed lips. "He'd be dead within a week."
.
..
...true. Jacques had eyes and ears everywhere these days. The moment he learned of "Victor" in an orphanage, the boy would be smothered in his sleep.
Killing that weasel sounded more and more appealing by the second.
But if he acted now, he'd be the prime suspect.
The authorities would put two and two together, realize he had a newborn son out of wedlock, and promptly clap him in irons. Who knew what would become of little Victor then? No, he must stay his hand for now; he had to, he must, because if he didn't, this would be another step down a slippery slope he was already sliding down...
'Sure, rationalize it.' The icy logic of his semblance nearly made him scoff. 'Coward. You fear action.'
'I don't fear action; I fear killing a man in cold blood!'
A pause followed. 'Its not murder if its justified.'
He shouldn't be considering this. No. Nay. Never.
'You never could make hard choices.'
'Shut up! You're not me!'
'I AM YOU!'
...this is goodbye, dear James." Willow touched a hand to his face, freeing him from his inner demons. "We won't meet again."
She stood on the very tips of her toes and kissed him. Slowly, softly, sweetly. It brought back sweet memories. Stolen trysts in the moonlight, the gentle feel of her body pressed against his, how strong her smile had been once...before that little sack of shit dragged her down and reduced her to the broken shell of a woman she was now.
He'd tried to help her, tried to shore her up, but all for naught. Jacques had ruined her, was still ruining her, without hope she seemed to grow weaker by the day. He hated it.
If there one was one man in Remnant who deserved death...
Willow deepened the kiss and desire consumed him as he leaned in to returned it.
In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and never let her go.
But he couldn't. He shouldn't. He mustn't.
'Coward.'
"You keep him safe, you hear?" Willow stepped back before he could make a grab for her. "I'll never forgive you if you don't!"
'Coward!'
He watched her leave and wondered what could've been.
'COWARD!'
Something shattered in him. "...Willow."
She paused, looking back to him, pivoting to face him fully. In that instant the rising sun caught her eyes and he glimpsed the tears welling within, ready to fall. Something in his heart hitched all over again.
...I'll save you." the words startled him as much as the admission. "I swear. This isn't over."
She smiled and it was a sad broken thing indeed. "Its too late for that, James."
His jawline clenched, hardening with resolve. "Never say never."
Mettle made a satisfied noise. '...better.'
He couldn't tell if Willow believed him or not; she simply stared at him for a long moment. Truly stared, balked even, as though he'd grown a second head. As he looked on a lonely cold tear rolled down her cheek. It fell to the street and immediately froze there, hardening into a perfect droplet of ice.
"Don't do that." her voice hitched, lower lip quivering in a sob. "Don't give me hope."
A rueful smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you sooner."
He took a step forward and that must've spooked her; because she turned and fled, racing the other way.
Just like that, he found himself left with the boy.
...hello, son."
The boy stared up at him.
Alright, then. He could contain this. Keep things quiet for now.
In hindsight, Ironwood really had no way of knowing his mistake.
One did not simply "contain" the vortex of chaos that was Naruto Uzumaki.
(.0.0.0.)
Hope.
How long had it been since she felt hope?
Willow wept that night, the cries muffled into her pillow.
(.0.0.0.)
In the five years that followed that fateful day, James faced many challenges.
He'd no idea how to be a father, much less raise a child; indeed, the prospect of being a single father terrified him more than any foe he'd ever faced.
Caring for an infant was...a novel experienced, changing diapers even moreso, but he was a soon-to-be general of Atlas and no challenge was too great for one such as he. He chose to raise Victor as he believed he should have been raised, as his parents had raised him, stern, but fair. He would want for nothing, yet he would also be brought up with justice and honor. He saw to that personally.
And if he enlisted occasional aid from his subordinates...well. The Ace-Ops were sworn to silence.
Victtor would ask of his mother sometimes, but he never had the heart to tell him.
How could he?
The boy was a bastard. A bastard with sisters, yes, but still.
When he was five, Victor soon began to show signs of a semblance.
James prayed it wouldn't be the Schnee semblance; any such sign of it would have Jacques on his tail and he wasn't ready to deal with that little worm yet. Wouldn't be for a few more years at that. But he would be in due time. He'd concocted his own secret scheme known as the Iron Initiative, entrusted to only his inner circle closest of friends. Jacques Gele -not Schnee, never Schnee!- had many enemies. It was simply a matter of finding them.
And if he confided in a certain cane-wielding headmaster...well. No one knew Ozpin as he did.
Against all odds, his prayers for Victor were answered.
For you see, young Victor Ironwood did not inherit the Schnee semblance.
No, no, no. His brilliant, snarky son actually acquired something far more terrifying.
For you see, his son could manipulate vectors. Anything that could be moved, almost anything at all, fell under Victor's purview, and with it, his power. It lent him astounding abilities and he had the mind to use them. The sight of it both fascinated and concerned James. A mere flick of his son's wrist could devastate his adversaries. A single stomp had the potential to wreck an entire city block. Gods forbid when the boy actually wanted to truly try.
In those five years alone, he became something of a symbol to the people. Citizens began to call him invincible. Untouchable. Immortal. He had the potential to become a one-man army; indeed, he became a light in the dark, but more than that; he was hope; a chance to expand their borders beyond Mantle and Atlas, to reclaim lost territory and more.
For if he could control vectors, then he was Vector Prime, the very catalyst of change
Research was soon undertaken into his semblance, looking for ways to enhance and improve it for the good of the nation. They dubbed such research the Accelerator program.
It would run in tandem with the Penny Project, alongside the Iron Initiative, each a brainchild of Atlas' finest minds.
Alone, any one of those projects might've been a failure. But together...
Together these three would achieve something...more.
So much more.
A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaand scene.
James ain't having any of Jacques' shit, no sirree!
Naruto POV next chapter, and it promises to be a doozy.
Clearly, if this becomes a story, it would radically redefine the dynamics of RWBY.
I'm running in a completely different direction with this one; I wonder if anyone will guess it?
Hope you enjoyed this little tease. Soooo? Should this be a story? Once again! This is an AU. Hope someone, somewhere, enjoyed this. I just don't know anymore these days. Its terribly hard to tell these days with the world going as it is...
Sometimes, when I look to the future, I wonder what will become of things when I'm gone.
Of course, I try not to dwell on the latter overmuch; I'm still alive and still writing. In an ideal world, I'd like to keep doing so for as long as I can. But old age is catching up to me and these days, the world is filled with so much madness and death. Feels like everyone's lost their minds sometimes. Even before that, so many friends and fellow writers I once knew are gone, now. Will I still be here in twenty years? Ten? Five? Its a chilling thought. But for now, I'm still here, still writing.
So here we go. The fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this tale, and many others.
So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...Review...Would You Kindly? Let me know what you think!
Only a few previews this time. And a certain Batman reference for those who can spot it.
(Previews)
His mother was Willow Schnee.
One look was all it took; a simple glance in the mirror confirmed his theory. Wasn't even hard. Really, white hair and pale features? If it weren't for his eyes, he would've been a dead ringer for one of the Schnee children. It should have been enough to know he had a mother, but it wasn't. She'd given him away. Just...tossed him aside, like yesterday's trash. Hadn't even tried to fight for him. Not really.
He had two sisters one younger, another older, and yet he could not be seen to associate with them. They probably didn't even know he existed.
Something like that...
It twisted his emotions deep inside him.
Maybe that was why he ended up the way he did.
Brilliant. Simply brilliant. And you say it comes naturally?
Naruto took the praise as his due.
Arthur Watts was an erratic individual at the best of times but he didn't disparage his talents. Together, they had an...understanding. Shame the man wouldn't be in Atlas much longer.
He could tell.
It became easy, almost worryingly so to use his semblance. He'd never been particularly good at math in his first life, ya know? Things had been simpler See something fast? Run faster. See someone strong? Get stronger than him. Smarter...not so much. It was inevitable that he grew up.
That he gained wisdom.
...among other things.
Well, my dear, he's a little like you, in a way. Your both projects of Atlas...
Penny tilted her head.
"Yo." the pale boy with white hair and red eyes raised his hand. "Nice eyes. They're very...green.
She wasn't complete yet. She knew that. She was still being built.
And yet. Something in her processors stirred.
Her first thought was thus.
"Salutations, friend~!"
R&R~!
I wonder if anyone remembers it?
(Previews)