Chapter 1 - Back to School

"Ruby!"

Oscar ran to her, doing his best to avoid the bodies littering the dark earth. The tip of his boot caught on a corpse's shoelaces, causing him to stumble. He flailed his arms, only succeeding in keeping himself up for a few extra seconds before he face-planted and ate a mouthful of dry crimson soil. He gagged on the dirt that threatened to clog his throat, but couldn't taste it; he couldn't feel anything but cold. Even the sweat that stuck his clothes to his skin and his hair to his forehead felt like ice.

Scrambling to his knees and pushing against something soft that made a squelching sound, Oscar barely managed to not fall again as he stepped on and almost through a fleshy bump in the ground. It was hard to breathe, the stabs of pain from the fight his beating chest muscle was fighting trying to force his body to give up. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He kept on running, but it felt like he was moving in place. Each step felt like hours. His legs began to spasm, causing him to almost trip again.

No, Goddamnit! I'm almost there! Oscar roared wordlessly, lifting his closed eyes to the black-red sky as he pushed further and deeper than he ever had before.

Oscar could feel the muscles in his calves begin to tear, despite his efforts to block the pain out. He opened his eyes, tears threatening to glue them closed, and took in the prone form of his beloved. Suddenly, a pop and snap ran from his legs to his skull. He fell to his knees, managing to catch himself with his elbows before he broke his nose. Gagging again, he spit out clumps of dirt before looking up.

Only feet away, Oscar could see Ruby's body. Her chest wasn't rising. No! No! He pounded the ground with his fist, before trying to crawl over to her. His vision was blurring and black was playing at his peripherals.

Just let me touch her! Oscar screamed, but no sound came out. The gods weren't so kind as to grant him his request. His fingers inches from her burned and torn skin, his arm shuddered and fell limp. The last thing he saw before his eyes were forced close was a jagged and broken blade protruding from her chest.

Sitting up suddenly, Oscar couldn't see anything except for the hazy outline of pitch black when his eyes snapped open, but the nightmarish colors still lingered in his mind. His breath came in ragged heaves, much stronger than in his dream. He still felt like he was suffocating. An ochre taste filled his mouth, and he was shivering from the sweat that had followed him to the waking world.

Ruby stirred beside him. Doing his best to not wake her, Oscar gently slid himself out from under the covers, revealing himself to be clothed only in boxers. His legs–still weak from the nightmare that had felt far too real–dangled over the side of the bed as he groped for his scroll. He dared not turn on the bedside lamp to look for it. Finally curling his fingers around the closed device, Oscar barely managed to prevent his legs from giving out from under him as he stood up. They shook and the challenge of keeping himself from falling to his knees felt greater than anything he'd faced before. Keeping quiet through it all might have been an even larger task.

Making it to the bathroom, Oscar closed the door before turning the light on. His hazel eyes squinted for a few seconds, to avoid the pain of his sight adjusting to the harsh stimulus. He supported himself on the stark white counter, straightening his stance as he tried to calm down. His breathing had steadied just enough to allow him to inhale and exhale a long breath. Once he deemed his eyes ready, Oscar blinked his eyelids several times before staring at his double in the mirror. A sheen of light reflected off his throat and his hair stuck to his forehead. He brushed a hand under his bangs and felt dampness from perspiration.

Seeing the dark circles under his eyes, Oscar turned the sink on to a weak, quiet stream. He cupped his hands under the faucet and lowered his face to meet a splash of water. Though it was the middle of the night–no light was coming through the bathroom window–he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, so he might as well wake up and try to distract himself. Turning the faucet off, Oscar grabbed a hand towel and dried his face.

He was startled when he felt a warm weight against his back. He must've been too lost in the weariness of his own reflection to hear the door opening; he didn't even see any of the darkness of the bedroom invade the light of this small sanctuary.

"Morning, Handsome," Ruby purred against the nape of his neck, before kissing his brown skin. The warmth of her calloused hands on his sides was a welcome shock to his body.

"Didn't mean to wake you," Oscar muttered, voice groggy from sleep. He unconsciously craned his neck to allow his wife's lips better access as she slowly trailed kisses across his shoulders.

Ruby stopped her kisses. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his torso and nuzzled her cheek against his back. "I was cold."

"Sorry," Oscar chuckled. He hoped Ruby–tired as she was–wouldn't recognize how much he was trying not to let his voice crack..

"You should be," Ruby pouted, and Oscar made an internal sigh of relief.

"Yeah?" Oscar teased.

"Yeah," Ruby was still pouting, but they both knew she wasn't really sad.

"Then show me why I should be sorry," Oscar turned around and immediately became drunk on the sight of his wife turning her beautiful eyes up to him, long crimson hair disheveled from sleep and her red silk night robe threatening to slip open.

"What if I don't want to?" Ruby said, the blatant high pitch of her voice mixing with the mischief in her eyes in the way that always played with Oscar's self-control.

Instead of with words, Oscar responded by lifting Ruby off her feet–to which she responded with a yelp and then a giggle–and turned her around, setting her butt on the bathroom counter. Holding her waist, Oscar lowered his mouth to her neck and felt Ruby's nimble fingers run through his hair as the muscles in her neck shifted under his lips. A groan. Oscar trailed down her neck, pausing to nip at the skin of Ruby's perfectly sculpted collarbone, as he undid the sash of her robe.

As Oscar made his way to the curve of his wife's pale chest, he made the mistake of inhaling her scent–something he took comfort in so often. Her smell of rose petals rapidly turned sweeter; cloying, as his breath caught in his tightening throat. Now, the only thing that invaded his nose was the sickening stench of hot, drying blood. His eyes were closed, but all Oscar could see was red. It was a dark and ominous shade that threatened to drown him. His favorite color turned against him.

Oscar's body shook, and he couldn't hold down the sob that broke from his throat nor the tears that ran down his face. He could feel his wife's eyes turn down to him and the warmth of her understanding gaze, despite the snot that was now sticking to her skin. Ruby's hand remained in his hair, stroking his scalp so gently instead of raking through his brown strands.

"Shh," Ruby soothed, holding Oscar's face to her as he cried. It was an ugly sound; a horrible mix of despair and rage. "Shh, my love. I'm here. I promise. I will always be here for you."

A blare of static ripped through the assembly hall, interrupting the booming beat that was playing through Tyreek's earbuds. Recognizing the result of a microphone test, he picked the buds out of his ears as his gaze wandered from his scroll in hand to the stage at the front of the room. The muted raucous that had been playing around him had fallen completely silent, and his fellow hunters-in-training had shifted their attentions to the man on stage as well.

Professor Pine tapped the microphone once again before speaking. Tyreek winced as another eardrum-shearing screech echoed off the beige walls of the assembly hall. "Hello, second-,third-, and fourth-years. How was your vacation?"

Aside from a few obligatory "fine"s and "good"s, the student body remained silent. Tyreek guessed that it was because, like him, the other students could sense the strain in their headmaster's voice that would have been imperceptible to ordinary people.

"I guess I should have expected that response," The headmaster tried to chuckle, but it came out awkward and Tyreek was both disconcerted and somewhat disappointed at the older man's lack of composure in front of hundreds of students. "Afterall, you all are the next generation of Remnant's defenders. Alright, no more pleasantries," The atmosphere in the hall suddenly shifted into something heavier. Tyreek couldn't help but grin; this was the headmaster he had come to know in the last year.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered students from multiple years here today. Well, I have an announcement that pertains to all of you," Tyreek leaned forward in his seat, and the whole auditorium was now charged with anticipation. "In years past, students would all pass into the next year without any obstacle, as long as they had achieved the necessary marks required for promotion. But there was never any incentive for students to keep up with their training or to improve after the grading period of the second term had ended. Students would return excited for the year, but their expectations would quickly be dashed by their own unpreparedness for rigors they should've expected. As a result, after thorough discussion with your instructors and to give returning students incentive to keep up with their training during their time away, Beacon will be holding a practical exam for all non-first-year students."

At that, the auditorium erupted. Their was yelling and shouts of dissent and things along the line of, "That's not fair," And if Tyreek was honest, he wanted to join in. They had all already passed initiation to get into Beacon as first-years. Why did they have to take another test just to stay somewhere they had had already earned their place at? Tyreek's thoughts were cut off as a bang aired throughout the assembly, and the crowd fell silent once again. The headmaster stood on the stage silent, holding one hand up with his palm facing them as the other remained atop the head of his cane.

"Do not worry. Failure of the exam will not result in expulsion," The tension that had been choking the air in the room was eased with a collective, voiceless sigh. "Unless, of course, you refuse to participate. But I doubt any of you will make that choice," Tyreek facepalmed at the unnecessary dramatics.

"No, this is not a test to 'weed out the weak'. However, those who do pass will receive an opportunity. Those of you who receive qualifying marks will have the chance to participate in a tournament that will occur during the beginning of the semester. For this, participation of the available candidates will be optional. But in order to receive your most quality efforts, not only in the tournament but as well as on the exam, the four who make it the farthest will have the chance to apprentice under Beacon Alum Blake Belladonna."

Muttering broke out. Blake Belladonna? Of course, Tyreek knew who she was and he didn't doubt that his fellow hunters-in-training did as well, but why had she offered her services to Beacon? She rode solo, team-less for the last decade-and-a-half, so how did Headmaster Pine convince her to take on an apprentice?

"Oh, and for everybody but first-years, it will mean a skip of the inevitable rehash period that comes at the beginning of each year."

Deafening cheers erupted from the whole of the student body, and though he remained quiet as questions still lingered in his mind Tyreek doubted anybody's body was buzzing with as much excitement as his.

Oscar couldn't hear the tap of his cane as he strode off the stage. The false smile on his face slipped into a grim countenance, and a cry of distress that could barely be heard over the happy cacophony of students flooding out of the assembly hall broke through the storm that now constantly raged through his mind.

"Oscar, what are you thinking?" Bartholomew Oobleck shouted. It was the first time Oscar had ever seen the caffeine addict angry. "You never 'discussed' any 'practical exam' with us! And a tournament for those who pass, with the tutelage of Ms. Belladonna as the prize? We've never pit students against each other just to gain an edge. The exceptional will shine through no matter the circumstances, so what's the point? Do you even know where she is?! And even if I-if we agree to this, we don't have time to make the preparations. Did you even have a plan for what the exam will be? Oh goodness gracious," Oobleck shook his head wearily.

"He's right, Oscar."

Bart jumped at the abrupt appearance of the husky voice. Oscar wasn't surprised; even though all hunters, the most senior of their ranks included, had an exceptional awareness of their surroundings, Blake Belladonna's cat-like stealth trumped even the best hunters' natural senses.

"Ozpin did have his faults," She continued. "But planning wasn't one of them. Did you not learn anything in the years that bastard was stuck in your head?"

Oscar sighed, choosing to ignore her antagonistic comments. That's just how Blake was. Eye-level with the old Beacon professor, Oscar only had to turn his head to the side to look the man in his frosted glasses. "You remember Ruby's initiation?"

AN: First off: if you made it this far, I want to say thank you for reading. And to those who've been with me before...third time's the charm, right? Anyway, I won't take up too much of your time, so you can go to the next chapter. Please read chapter 2 before you start creating a character, but if you decide not to listen to me: the form and rules are on my profile, and I will only accept submissions through DMs with a subject of "TPLI - Character Name". Well, see you soon.