Hi whoever's out there! Welcome to my first real story. I've only ever written a one-shot for someone else's work, so please bear with me as we embark on this journey together. I'm a big RWBY fan, and I'm a pretty big pro-wrestling fan, so I figured this would be a great way to pay homage to both. That being said, there isn't going to be anything in this fic that someone who has no experience watching pro-wrestling can't understand. Also, this is a world without Salem or Grimm, but there's still plenty of ways people in this Remnant can use their powers.

So without further ado, let's get it started!

Chapter 1 - Jobber

1….2….3!

The muffled sound of a crowd's roar startled Jaune from his daze. Bright light seared his vision as he let out a pained groan. He forced his eyes to stay open and rolled over to his side. The defeated wrestler drew a ragged breath as the body that weighed on him lifted. His muscles were screaming in pain, probably from being slammed on the canvas ten times. Or was it fifteen? He couldn't quite remember. Being thrown around like a ragdoll in the ring for almost twenty minutes tended to have that effect on a person. Fighting against the nausea, he braced his hands against the mat and sat up with no choice but to confront the unfortunate reality of his situation.

He'd been pinned again. Shoulders held down against the mat for yet another three-count. His opponent had managed to get a hold of him while he was trying to slide out of the ring to take a breather. The man had lifted Jaune over his head as if he was nothing but an empty barbell. He'd tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but a combination of his stunned state and the man's iron grip on his tights held him there. The bigger man had played with him. Pressing him over his head to show off for the rows of spectators, before throwing his arms forward with Jaune in tow, smashing him back-first into the hard canvas. A hand weakly drifted to the back of his head to check for any blood.

Guess it wasn't enough to just beat me. Why not humiliate me too? He thought bitterly, a hand coming up to hide his face. When was the last time he'd won, or even managed to eek out a draw? It had to have been months. Maybe it was better to not dwell on it.

He crawled towards the bottom rope, trying, and failing to stave off the leftover dizziness when he collapsed against it, wincing as the wire cable barely caught his weight. He looked up, regretting it instantly as he got a front row seat to the fallout of his loss.

Loud noise scrambled his brain, aggressive rock music blasting through the speakers that echoed throughout the stadium, a victory anthem dedicated to his opponent. A glance at the big flatscreen on the wall showed he was out of aura, a far cry from his opponent, who still had around half. The cameras that dotted the arena made sure to zoom in on his defeated form. He was vaguely aware of a man stepping over him, heading back towards the center of the ring. The referee hadn't even stopped to check on him. He was an older man, bald on top, but with some fraying white hair on the sides. He was adorned in the traditional black and white striped shirt of an official of the Vytal Wrestling Company.

"Sorry kid, better luck next time." He heard him utter. The man had seemingly become all too used to how Jaune's matches ended, electing instead to race forward and raise the hand of the victor.

The commentary team at ringside must've been waiting for it, because just as his opponent's hand was raised the voice of Peter Port, the VWC's best wrestling announcer and commentator, crackled over the sound system.

"HERE IS YOUR WINNER...CARDIN…THE BARBARIAN…WIIIINCHESTER!"

The warrior in question relished the victory, pounding his fist against his chest and roaring at the audience, gray and gold trunks shining the spotlight that illuminated him. The meaty thwacks of fist on skin resonated throughout the ring. If there was some small triumph for Jaune at that moment, it was that the crowd was booing Cardin. They'd always had a soft spot for him ever since he'd debuted. If there was one thing Jaune had learned throughout his time here in the Vytal Wrestling Company, it was that their fans had long memories, and when the public heard that the son of Nicholas Arc, the ever-exciting former two-time World Heavyweight Champion had signed with the promotion, they had their hearts set on supporting him.

He still remembered the first time he'd come through the curtain. The crowd roared with excitement, starry-eyed children held out by their parents leaned over the barricades with their hands outstretched, hoping he'd bless them with a handshake or a high-five as he strutted down the ramp for his first match. His own entrance music was the backdrop for the beginning of a phenomenal career. He managed to let himself smile at the memory. It died a quick death as he remembered how the rest of that night had gone. He'd lost that match in a dominant fashion, not unlike this one.

More recently, the cheers began to dwindle as his early victories had been forgotten. They'd never fully gone away though, and in the brief times where he'd managed to knock down his opponent and get some momentum, he'd throw a pumped fist or a wave to the crowd and they'd pop for him, cheering for the underdog. Not that he'd ever managed to fulfill their wishes anyway.

The feeling of a hand tapping on his shoulder brought him out of those memories as he looked up, dizziness gone. The referee was staring down at him. "Time to go, kid. Next match is on in 5." He grimaced, before jerking his head to the right.

Jaune followed his gaze to see Cardin, already halfway down the ramp heading to the back. He took a deep breath and braced his core, before grabbing on to the second and top rope and finding the strength to drag his broken body up. He struggled to find his balance, leaning on the referee for a few moments as he tried to find his footing.

When he eventually did, he took a few steps to the center of the ring, muscles straining as he weakly raised his right arm. There were a few claps, very different from the reactions he'd gotten from his debut, but when you'd been on a losing streak as long as he was, he wasn't surprised. He climbed between the ropes on the far side of the ring and jumped down, knees wobbling on impact.

Nobody leaned out to shake his hand or pat his shoulder as he began the long walk up the ramp.

/

The shower curtain made a dry rasping sound as he pulled it back and stepped into the locker room. His balance was back, the icy water having done wonders for his sore muscles. He was sure he'd feel it tomorrow, but thankfully for now the pain had dulled. He'd elected to throw on a hoodie and fresh pair of jeans. There were still a few more matches on the show, and the locker room was bustling with activity. There were plenty of wrestlers on the roster. Those that had just finished their matches like him were locking their outfits away in their cubbies.

He watched as a pair of wrestlers slated to be up against one another in the next match shook hands, before reporting to separate areas to warm up for their bout. "Good luck, you'll need it," one of them fired over his shoulder. Jaune barely managed to resist rolling his eyes at the showboating. Sure, it was essential for being a star, but did they have to do it everywhere?

In the corner he spotted Cardin, his posse worshiping at the altar as they showered him with praise. He'd developed a small following since he'd debuted with the VWC.

"You dunked his ass!" he heard one of them exclaim. Sky? Dove? They tended to blend together. Regardless, it was even more reason to stow his gear and get out as soon as possible. He'd left his white and gold tights neatly folded on a bench outside the row of showers that lined the opposite side of the room. The once shiny garments weren't in a great state. They were torn and tattered at the knees, with a few stray rips in the upper thigh area. The Arc logo, two worn golden crescents sewn on the side almost seemed to stare at him accusingly.

"As soon as I win a match, I'll fix you up. I swear." He muttered under his breath as he gingerly picked up the garments. He paused for a moment, then sighed at the ridiculousness of his statement.

Great, now I'm making promises to a pair of pants.

The pants in question did not reply.

His matching white arm bands laid on top of them in a heap in not much better shape. He made sure to balance them so they wouldn't fall in one hand and grabbed his gold boots with the other, heading towards his locker. The lock clicked into place as he entered the combination and hastily stowed his gear, making sure to handle the pants with extra care as he hung them up. He went to close the locker but lingered for a brief moment and gazed at the picture he'd taped to the door. It was his dad hoisting the world championship. The picture was old and yellowed from age, but his father seemed to glow with pride as he held the belt high over his head.

God, I'd love to hold gold one day like you Dad. He thought, the very idea of it bringing a smile to his face. Heck, he didn't even care if it was the world title, just a belt to call his own.

"What the hell's got you smiling Arc?" He heard a voice boom from further down the row of lockers. He wilted and turned to face the source of the call out, preparing himself for the confrontation. Cardin was leaning against one of the numerous benches that dotted the room, his attention focused firmly on Jaune.

"N-Nothing Cardin. I was just about to leave." Jaune grimaced, hoping to cut the bigger man off before he found himself dragged into an argument.

"Doesn't look like nothing." Cardin jeered back. "Don't tell me you still have that picture of your daddy hanging in there? Didn't I tell you not to let me see that shit again?"

He had. Last time he'd left his locker open, Cardin had seen the picture and ripped it off the door, grumbling about how his father had disrespected the Winchester name.

"It's pathetic." The one he was around ninety-nine percent sure was Dove jeered. "Just how long are you gonna ride on your dad's coattails?"

"It's just a picture." He sighed, wincing at the current state of his father's legacy. "Not my fault it was taken when it was." He immediately regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth as he watched Cardin rise to his full height, kicking off the bench and storming towards him.

"I don't need a reminder of your pissant father's fluke win over mine." He growled. Nicholas Arc had beaten Faulconer Winchester for the title, a fact Cardin tended to remind him of every time they were in a room together.

"I'm getting real sick of them sticking me in matches with you." He started, eyes staring daggers into Jaune's. "I get the narrative they're trying to start. Two sons of world champions fighting just like their fathers." He paused to laugh, sneering down at Jaune. "It's a great little way to build a storyline. But you're not on my level, and I'm starting to get real tired of beating on you, Job Arc."

It was a preschool insult, but he bristled at the implications, shoulders hunching as he faced Cardin. "Take it back." He gritted out. Cardin scoffed at him, rolling his eyes. "Or what? You want a repeat of tonight's match? No referee to save you this time."

"I assure you, if you make a rash move, this confrontation will go far differently from your match tonight, Winchester." A voice from behind them called out. Jaune felt a grin spread across his face as he watched Cardin back up with a scowl.

He turned his gaze to the friend who'd always managed to come to his aid. Lie Ren stood in his ring gear, deep emerald green tights gave way to black boots. Golden thread adorned the outfit, stretching across the fabric to create ornate Mistralian designs that drew the eye. His jet-black hair was brushed back in a messy mane, the few pink strands to the side of his face creating a stark contrast.

How does he always manage to look so cool? Jaune pondered.

"Piss off Ren," Cardin spat. "Talking as if we can't take you and Arc." He smiled cruelly and gestured to his posse, the latter standing up and stomping towards them. Ren only gave a slight smile.

"I'm a tag-team wrestler Cardin, I know you're aware of that." He started, tilting his head in thought. "Which means if you wish to start something with me, I'm sure Nora would be thrilled to get some extra practice in."

Cardin's face paled at the mention of Ren's tag partner, known throughout the company as The Valkyrie. Nora was a sweet girl. Ren had introduced them after he and Jaune had gone through a few wrestling classes together. While cute as a button, she had quite the wild side, and managed to rack up a reputation throughout the VWC as one of the scariest fighters to step into the ring with. The last guy who'd messed with Ren had left the ring on a stretcher, with two broken ankles. It seemed like Cardin didn't want to run the risk.

Who knew he could be so wise?

"You got lucky this time, Arc." He managed to growl before turning to Sky and Dove. "Forget it."

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Winchester stalk away, before shooting Ren a gracious smile. "Thanks man, I owe you one."

Ren gave a quiet laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "I'll add it to the list of things you owe me. I had to cut my time in the sauna short to help you out." Oof. Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. If there was one thing his friend loved, it was his relaxation time. "I really appreciate it."

"No worries, Nora would kill me if she found out I let you get hurt." That girl really was the best. He remembered being worried the first time he'd met her, having watched a few of her sparring sessions, timidly introducing himself as Ren's new training partner. The ginger girl had looked him up and down, eyes narrowed, before immediately throwing her arms around him, squealing that she'd found a new bestie. Absolutely adorable. Still, when she hugged him, it was the same strength she put into slamming people on the mat head-first. He shuddered at the memory. Ren's voice broke him out of his stroll down memory lane.

"Besides, I was meaning to talk to you anyway." He began. "The boss is looking for you."

Yikes.

That couldn't be good. Jaune shook his head and swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Walk with me?" he asked, looking back at Ren. The quiet man nodded his approval, and the two pushed through the heavy red double-doors of the locker room and walked into the hallway. The hallways were always busy in any venue they ended up hosting a show at, with numerous staff and talent loitering in the large concrete corridor.

While he was certain Ren would be just fine if they'd walked the whole way in silence, in fact, he might have preferred it, but Jaune couldn't stand it anymore. He racked his brain for any topic to fill the dead air.

"So," he started, "The Tag-Team Tournament's coming up later this year, how's your training going?" Ren let out a quiet but stern hum. Jaune found himself surprised by the determination that filled his usually aloof friend's eyes as they hardened. It didn't surprise him though; the Vytal Tag Tournament had been the talk of the town for the past few months. A showcase where all the best tag teams under Vytal's international umbrella come together to crown world champions. It had been all Nora talked about the last few times he'd hung out with her and Ren.

"Nora and I will be adequately prepared by the time it arrives." He said with the quiet confidence he'd always carried himself with. "While having the championships on the line this time will certainly intensify the competition, I trust in our capabilities and the strong synergy we've developed."

Ah yes, the biggest selling point of this year's tournament. Usually, the winners would go on to face the champions in a winner take all scenario. But the previous champions had gotten themselves in a little hot water. They'd been caught red handed betting on themselves, and as a result were immediately stripped of the titles and the belts were put up as vacant. Whoever won would find themselves undisputed champions of the world.

"You know Jaune," Ren started with a cautious glance, "That offer's still open if you want to join us. Nora would love to have her fearless leader back."

Jaune tried not to sigh at the familiar topic. It only came up every time they'd hung out. "Ren, I led the three of us one-time years ago in class and you two have been dead set on bringing me in ever since."

"We did well, your strategy is what allowed us to get the victory."

Jaune looked away, deciding not to answer. The two of them continued their walk in silence for a few moments before he felt Ren's hand clasp on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Jaune, I know you've been struggling. Having someone else in your corner might help." Ren got a faraway look in his eye. "There's nothing better than sharing a fight with someone close to you."

"I'm sure you're right." He mumbled back. He'd be lying if the thought hadn't crossed his mind. Someone to share a win with, or in his case, wallow in a defeat together did sound great. On some level he was a little jealous of what Ren and Nora had, but the two were far too great friends for him to ever hold it against them. He elected casual dismissal instead.

"I'll keep it in mind."

Ren smiled up at him. "That's all I ask. You know we would love to have you." He felt a warmth in his chest as he smiled back. He was sure Ren meant it too. It was nice to feel wanted.

His boots scraped as they reached their destination. A silver plaque marked:

Glynda Goodwitch: VWC Co-Promoter

The signadorned a black door leading directly to his doom. Ren gave him a look that said good luck, and left, probably to go find Nora. He took a deep breath and held it. Walking with Ren hadn't exactly given him time to think about why Ms. Goodwitch would want to speak with him, but it didn't take a genius to make a guess. After a performance like the one he'd put up, maybe he was finally getting fired.

His hands balled into fists as they shot up to grip his blond hair. Slightly trembling at the thought of being let go. It couldn't end like this could it? Deciding not to put it off any longer, he steeled himself and reached forward, hand outstretched to grab the silver knob.

Next thing he knew, he was on the floor, butt impacting the concrete hard and a searing pain in his face. Dazed azure eyes met distraught silver as he looked up at the girl who'd thrown the door open so hard, she'd knocked him down. Her pale face was flushed with emotion. The firsrt thing that caught his attention was her age. She looked young, much younger than any other wrestler he knew here. 18 or 19 maybe? The age range around the VWC was anywhere from 21 to 46. Her hair was a lush mess, dark as night. What got his attention though was the way the black strands faded into crimson at the tips.

She was dressed as if she had a match that night. Little red designs cascaded down the legs of black tights. Tear drops? Petals maybe? They stopped at black boots with scarlet laces. Her top was sleeveless, showing off armbands on each arm. A red rose on the left, and an ornate heart of the same color on the right. The top itself was black, with red accents, stretching across the material.

Not able to break her gaze, he watched as the despair in her silver orbs instantly switched to apologetic look as she flushed and let out a small squeak. The girl flicked her head to the right towards the exit door at the end of the hallway nervously, before snapping back to him, warring between the options of interacting with the stranger she'd just bowled over and making a run for it. She took a step towards the exit door before letting out a quiet huff and turning back to him, offering her hand.

"S-Sorry!" She blurted out before grunting and helping to pull him to his feet. He quickly scanned the ground for anything that might've fallen out of his pockets when he fell. He didn't see anything.

"Hey, thanks for the hand–" He started as he turned to face the girl before stopping. She was gone, and the exit door was flapping back and forth.

That was...interesting. He thought, rubbing his forehead where the door had impacted him before a voice called out from inside the office he'd been psyching himself up to enter.

"Mr. Arc, are you content to continue checking for a concussion, or would you like to come in?"

He flushed at the observation, and with no other way to stall, he stepped through the threshold and into the office.

Glynda Goodwitch was an intimidating woman, no two ways about it. Sat with perfect posture at her large dark wooden desk, her pale blonde hair was cut short, with a braid cascading down the right side of her face. Black glasses rimmed stern emerald eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. She wore a white button down, the fabric stretching generously over her chest. Jaune immediately shook the thought out of his head. Getting back on track, she wore a black pantsuit, the jacket hung neatly on the back of the chair she sat in. She gestured at him with her hand outstretched.

"Well Mr. Arc?" She started. "Why don't you take a seat?"

He pulled out the chair and sat down, it was one of those chairs that no matter how you sat, it was always uncomfortable. After a moment of trying and failing to find a good position to sit in, the woman across from him decided to break the silence.

"Are you alright Mr. Arc? The door seemed to hit you pretty hard."

"You saw that, huh." Jaune smiled sheepishly.

"It was right outside my door." She deadpanned back. He felt his ears get hot at the idea of his promoter and boss seeing him flat on his ass bowled over by a girl half his size. As if getting beat tonight wasn't bad enough. He thought it best to change the subject.

"Could I ask what that was about? She seemed pretty upset." Thinking back to the anguish on the girl's face. His promoter sighed.

"Not everybody makes it on television, Mr. Arc, and unfortunately, I usually have to be the one to break that news." Jaune nodded. It was typically Glynda who broke the bad news around the VWC. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her coworker.

"What about Ozpin? I'm sure you two share the work pretty well." He must've touched a nerve the way Ms. Goodwitch's right eye twitched.

"My co-promoter has recently been preoccupied with entertaining potential investors for coffee outings." She spoke icily, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. "He will be returning to day-to-day tasks soon." When she put it like that, it didn't seem like a fact, rather a threat.

"How have you been, Mr. Arc?" Glynda asked, electing to switch the focus onto him.

"I've had better days, Ms. Goodwitch." He joked back weakly. She'd always liked him, a result of her close bond with his father during his time in the VWC. She'd always been around when he was growing up. He was half sure the only reason he'd been employed so long despite the losses was her looking out for him.

"I'm well aware." she replied, looking down to glance over forms scattered around her spacious desk. "Tonight marks your third loss in a row, bringing your record to four wins, six losses. While Mr. Winchester is a solid contender, I was disappointed with your performance tonight."

He couldn't help but shrink into himself. It was her job to keep track of these things of course, but hearing someone else say it was difficult to stomach.

"I'll be honest Mr. Arc; I don't know how many more times I can allow you to stay at this company before people begin to ask questions." Right again. It would certainly raise a few eyebrows if someone who continued to lose was on the roster getting TV time consistently, where there might be other people who deserved a chance in the spotlight. "You are adequately charismatic, and you're able to command a crowd, which is an admirable skill. No doubt your family had a hand in that." Even in the current circumstances, he managed to preen a little. Growing up with seven catty sisters and a father in the business had helped him learn to speak so people would listen. His attention was brought back to Glynda as she continued.

"However, your combat skills, while good enough to rack up a few wins early on, are still nowhere near up to par with the higher level of competition you're now being matched up against. You also haven't unlocked your semblance, which puts you at an immediate disadvantage."

"I know, and you're right." He started, unable to meet her gaze. "It's just been really hard. I feel like I'm not progressing. I'm training but I just can't seem to make a difference no matter how hard I try." He said, emotion creeping into his voice. Glynda went to speak, but he found himself looking up at her and continuing. "Cardin called me Job Arc is the locker room." Glynda paused for a moment.

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that, Jaune." Glynda spoke, eyes softening a little as she dropped his formal title.

It was a childish insult of course, a play on words, but it was the implication that hurt. Cardin had called him a jobber. A way of saying someone who was only there to make others look good. It was one of the worst things you could be called in this industry. But it applied, didn't it? Wasn't that exactly what he'd just done for Cardin? He looked like an idiot in there and Cardin looked like a damn juggernaut.

As if sensing him beginning to spiral, Glynda's words cut through his thoughts. "I think it would be best for you to take some time off television." she said carefully as he sagged in his chair. "I'd like for you to take some time to innovate your training. If what you've been doing isn't working, perhaps it's time to try something new."

Well, it wasn't a termination. Being off the screen for an extended period might hurt his stock with the viewers, but maybe if he managed to return stronger than ever, he could win them back. His eyes flicked back to Glynda as she continued.

"In a few months, Ozpin and I will give you a match to see if you've improved." She paused for a moment, before giving him a small smile. "I believe you can find what you're missing, Jaune." It was nice to know he had a few people rooting for him.

"So that's all then? Just try and improve by the time you give me another match?"

She nodded. "That will be all. Make sure to pick up your compensation at the front desk before you leave."

"Will do, thanks Ms. Goodwitch." He replied over his shoulder as he headed towards the door, before seeing himself out and shutting the door behind him.

/

Jaune twisted the key in the lock and shouldered his door open, trying to ignore the creaking sound of the hinges he'd grown accustomed to. He flicked the light a few times until the apartment finally lit up.

Really need to call someone about that. He thought to himself before dropping his bag at the doorstep. He could barely keep his eyes open as he checked the time on the microwave. 12:08. He sighed. Mondays and Fridays were when the VWC ran shows all over Vale, and even every now and then on the island of Patch. On those days he'd have to travel to whatever location they'd picked, stay until it was long past, then head all the way back. He'd usually get back very late, but at least he had the rest of the week to himself.

Or now for training. He thought, bitterness creeping into his thoughts. He wasn't exactly happy with being taken off the VWC's televised shows, but if it meant he could keep his job, he'd take it. He slipped his phone from his pocket and thumbed the device, settling on the contacts tab. His thumb hung slightly above one name. Dad. He let out a quiet huff and locked the device, choosing instead to plug it into the wall. He'd already been lectured twice today, no need to go for three.

Stripping off his clothes, he switched off the lamp and fell into bed, the wonderful embrace of his pillow and comforter immediately drawing a content hum from his lips. It was short lived though, as he found himself staring at the chipping paint on the old, weathered ceiling, completely unable to sleep.

Maybe Ren had a point. Being on his own sucked. All he had was a few months to fix whatever wasn't working. Then he'd have to prove he was worthy of being a wrestler. Then he could buy new clothes, he could buy a new apartment, and finally hold that championship gold.

All he had to do was find that piece he was missing.

That's chapter 1 in the books! I'll try to update as soon as I can. Thanks for reading.