Author's Note: I wrote this story for my friends originally, but was encouraged to begin posting it here to get a wider audience. I'm a fan of RWBY, but wanted to explore it from the angle of a normal human trying to contribute in a world of Huntsmen and monsters that are so much stronger than the average human that they may as well be demigods.

This story isn't going to focus on the main cast at all, except for the occasional reference or inclusion where it makes sense. Instead, I want to focus on one of the 'B Teams' who are always referenced but never named. For that reason, a lot of the characters and plotline here will be original.

Minor spoilers, but due to the origins of the concept for this story, there is an isekai aspect. I'm actually not a fan of the trope myself, so I've decided to turn it on its head as much as I can. Fair warning either way, but I think that even if you don't like isekais then you may be pleasantly surprised to see what I've done with it.

I update every weekend, and this story will be seen through to its conclusion barring me being suddenly hit by a car, in which case I'll have someone just dump the rest of the story here without proper editing.

Please leave a review if you have comments or questions about chapters or concepts, seeing people interact with my story is probably like 70% of the reason I write, so it makes my day to see someone genuinely enjoying and interacting with the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or its associated characters. The characters in this writing so far are all original characters, but I make no claim over the existing characters.

Chapter 1

Awake

I awoke to the sounds of gunfire and a dull but insistent throbbing in the base of my skull. Before I even opened my eyes I could feel the pain spreading out to every muscle in my body as I slowly returned to consciousness.

Attempting to rise, I cracked open one eye, but the other was sealed shut by dried blood. I reached up with a gloved hand to scrape away the blood, and got a look at my surroundings.

I was sitting in a pile of rubble inside of what looked like it used to be an office building. This room was probably a storage closet, with the empty office floor outside in chaos and disarray. I was wearing some sort of white and blue combat armor, with a discarded rifle lying to my right attached to my shoulder by a sling, and some sort of metallic belt with a bullet hole directly through the buckle to my left.

I thought back, trying to remember how I had gotten here. With a sense of rising panic I realized that I couldn't remember anything that had happened to me recently, and the further back I tried to remember the more I realized I was missing. My mind was a blank canvas, no childhood, no adulthood, no friends or family. I could clearly remember concepts like math or science, but had no context for where I could have possibly learned those things.

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, and attempted to get my bearings. Determining that I had no immediate medical concerns other than a painful swelling on the side of my head and a number of soft tissue injuries, I searched my pockets and found some sort of metallic rectangle that expanded when I pressed it to reveal a holographic screen. "Okay" I mumbled to myself "I can work with this."

Gunfire continued outside as I fiddled around with the different apps. I didn't appear to have many photos, but that didn't strike me as abnormal for some reason. The photos I did see were mostly of random objects or people that I had never seen before. Several of the people wore uniforms of a similar white color scheme to the armor I wore.

I continued searching until I found the calendar app. August 8th, 2026. Unfortunately without any previous context the date didn't mean all that much to me. The device showed a "no signal" notice in the corner, so I stashed it for later.

Continuing the search of my possessions it seemed that most of my equipment was ammunition, basic field equipment, a medical bag, and some sort of technical kit that had an almost limitless supply of cords and adapters. I did find some sort of holographic dog tags around my neck however, which managed to shed a little bit more light on the situation.

The tags read "Grayson Phoenix, Specialist, Atlas Army, B+" and on my armor's sleeve I noticed a stenciled unit insignia, The 107th Light Infantry.

This solved a few issues for me. First, I now knew my name. Second, I knew that I had a side in the shootout going on outside. With that information I was able to determine a course of action.

Standing slowly to avoid aggravating my injuries I collected my rifle and gave it a once over. It looked like a standard issue military rifle, though upon closer inspection I realized many of the parts looked to be of a much higher quality than one would expect from a standard issue weapon.

Curious, but otherwise satisfied it was in working order, I started limping my way out of the building. As I tried to leave however, a sudden flash appeared in front of me and a wall of ice grew from the ground, staggering me and knocking me backwards.

I backpedaled awkwardly, but my foot slipped on a loose piece of rubble causing me to lose my balance and slip backwards. I flung my arms out to catch myself, but still hit hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs.

As I lay there gasping, my hand brushed something, and I suddenly felt a surge of warmth in my arm as the nerve endings that had been giving me a dull sensation of pain suddenly spiked and then fell silent. The pain in my solar plexus also faded almost immediately as the warmth continued to spread.

Confused, I sat up and noticed that my hand was touching the damaged steel belt that I had initially ignored. The heat seemed to be emanating from it through me. In fact, the longer I held contact with it the more it seemed to spread to the rest of my body. Aches and scrapes suddenly stopped complaining, and my pounding headache gradually began to recede.

Now intrigued, I collected the belt and examined it more closely. It seemed to be made almost entirely of a flexible but strong metallic substance, it felt rigid until I attempted to bend it, at which point it gave way freely.

The buckle was clearly damaged, with a large bullet hole straight through it and scorch marks surrounding the entrance hole. Inside of the buckle was a small circular object that was covered in almost microscopic engravings. A large portion of the object had been damaged by the gunshot, and the engraving patterns had been disrupted by the damage.

As I held the belt with the intention to bring it with me I suddenly felt a surge of emotion. Approval. Confused, I tried to figure out where the surge of emotion had come from.

As a test I thought about discarding the belt and leaving it behind. Fear.

Well that was interesting, it seemed to be emanating from the belt itself. Now I was definitely taking it with me. Gratitude. I just had to find a way out.

Strapping the belt on as best I could with the damaged buckle I examined the ice wall blocking my path. Safety I felt from the belt. I disagreed with the belt's opinion.

"No" I replied "It's trapping us in." I felt a swirl of different emotions, but none clearly coming to the forefront until eventually the belt seemed to make up its mind.

SAFETY. The answer came. "No." I repeated more firmly. "It's not safe here, and people are fighting outside, I need to get out there." Another moment passed as the belt tried to figure out a response. Finally it emanated a feeling that reminded me of a close relationship, emphasizing a sense of belongingness and security. Family.

"I don't think my family is out there, do you mean your family is out there?"

I felt a sort of disapproval from the belt. FAMILY, it repeated more forcefully. SAFETY. It seemed frustrated, like it was trying to communicate an idea too complex to be summarized by the emotions it was projecting.

"Look" I spoke to the empty air. "We've got to get outside, this building is not safe, it's definitely structurally unsound by now. It looks like it was hit by artillery."

It somehow projected the emotion of grumbling.

Ignoring the belt's objections I kept looking around, still unsure of where that wall of ice had come from. I guessed I could probably break it down if I had to, but that would take time.

Just as I was getting lined up to start smashing the ice a small surge of energy emanated from the belt and the ice melted away in front of me. "Was that you? Or did that just happen randomly?" I asked.

Satisfaction. It replied, implying through the emotion that it had been responsible.

"Okay, " I said quietly, pondering the situation I found myself in. "Thanks then. I guess." Pride.

I stretched, feeling new life in my limbs. Now evidently fully healed, I moved quickly out of the building in search of other troops I could group up with.

As I moved carefully through the building I tried to puzzle out where and who I was. The belt and its abilities struck me as abnormal, though I supposed I didn't really have the context to say that for certain. The more I tried to remember the more it seemed like I had forgotten unfortunately, and I eventually was forced to give up on it until my immediate safety could be guaranteed.

The gunfire had mostly calmed down by now, with only sporadic pops and the occasional muffled explosion far in the distance. Moving as quietly as I could, I marveled at the technology that had apparently gone into designing this armor. I moved like my armor wasn't even there, and it appeared to be somehow muffling my footsteps, making me seem quieter than I otherwise should be with this much armor on. It seemed far more advanced than anything I would have expected to be issued to standard ground troops.

I reached a hallway with a small hole blasted in it that led outside, and got down to try and squeeze through. As I poked my head through I noticed a few things while squinting my eyes against the sudden brightness.

First, I was clearly in some sort of city, skyscrapers loomed up all around me higher than I could crane my head to see from my prone position.

Second, there were soldiers wearing black and red uniforms carrying rifles just outside the building I was hunkered down in. They appeared to be hiding behind any piece of cover they could find, and to my presumably trained eye it looked like they were preparing some sort of ambush.

Third I noticed a different group of soldiers clad in white and blue armor similar to mine moving down the street ahead of what looked like a heavily modified M1 Abrams tank. For a moment I was distracted as I wondered how I knew the name of the tank design, then I remembered I was in a combat zone and refocused my attention on my surroundings.

One of the soldiers in black slowly reached to his side and grasped some sort of rocket launcher, clearly intending to destroy the armor support. Sucking in a sharp breath I squeezed back into my hole slightly to break line of sight with most of them and brought my rifle to bear on the rocket wielder. I didn't know what was going on here but I wasn't about to let people who were apparently my fellow soldiers be killed by some unknown enemy.

Fear. "I know, me too" I told the belt. "Relax. Deep breaths if that applies to you." I whispered in a calming tone, hoping the belt understood my meaning. Unfortunately it continued broadcasting fear mixed with a tinge of regret to me.

Ignoring the belt, and my own fears about getting into a firefight, I lined up a shot on the rocket trooped and squeezed the trigger. A light cough emitted from my rifle, far quieter than I expected, and the trooper's head vanished into mist.

Momentarily distracted by the way his body slumped, I failed to notice his compatriot turn and look directly towards me. "Shit!" he called out "Atlas has us flanked!" The language he spoke wasn't the same one I had been speaking to the belt, but I still understood it well enough.

I shifted and fired again, a light cough and a gentle recoil the only evidence I felt that I was responsible for the three round burst that cut across his chest, dropping him on the spot.

A hail of gunfire answered me, bullets ricocheting off the walls of my hiding place as I desperately crawled backwards on hands and knees to get out of the line of fire. SAFETY! SAFETY SAFETY SAFETY! The belt was practically screaming at me now as a small block of ice shot up to fill the gap where my head had just been.

A dozen or more bullets splattered against the ice, causing a minor amount of spalling to cover me in cold ice crystals, but no bullets made it through to hit me.

"Shit" I breathed "Safety indeed." I looked around the hallway I was in for another way out. "Come on, we need to get moving, that patrol is still exposed and I don't know how many more there are out there."

I got to my feet and started trying to run, but suddenly felt slower than I should be. I staggered forwards as I felt the belt holding me back, trying to slow me down. I felt like I was trying to run underwater, my limbs moving but never accelerating.

Success, Relaxation. The belt assured me, still trying to convince me not to go outside. The troops outside would no longer be caught off guard, and the soldier with the rocket launcher was dead.

"No, I can't stop," I shot back angrily. "They still need help out there. And if you're going to slow me down then I'm going to leave you behind, so you can either help me help them, or you can sit and rot here forever"

Fear, Agreement.

"That's better, now come on we don't have much time."

As I resumed running, I felt another surge and my speed picked up as the belt began helping me. I hurtled through hallways and leapt over broken furniture as my speed was increased beyond my natural abilities.

I tried to get a grasp on the layout of the building as I moved, searching for an exit that would let me get outside without exposing me to fire from the enemy. When I finally found one it was completely blocked. Some sort of pillar had fallen into the wall just above the door frame and the resulting collapse had completely blocked the exit.

Freedom The belt whispered to me, almost timidly. Helpfulness.

"Can you help?" I asked it in between heavy breaths "Could you maybe create ice that would leverage the debris out of the way?"

Confusion. Rejection.

"Okay then, what's your idea?"

In response strength surged through my limbs. Feeling invigorated I squatted down and grasped a piece of rubble, giving it an experimental lift. The piece of concrete probably weighed several hundred pounds, but with the belt's help I was able to shift it out of the way.

I repeated the process several more times until I was able to shove enough of the debris out of the doorway to climb through, motivated by the sounds of combat right outside.

Now free of the hallway I had been trapped in I jogged towards the exit. Switching my rifle to automatic fire as I ran.

I emerged into bright sunlight just in time to see the Abrams down the street explode in an incredible display of color, its ammunition cooked off and all different colors of the rainbow exploded outwards in a deafening crash.

Atlesian troops scattered for cover, those who were too close to the explosion cowered and held their ears, completely disoriented and helpless as the opposing force opened fire from multiple directions.

Danger. Escape!

Not hesitating, I took off running towards the opposite side of the street, just as a burst of gunfire slammed into the wall where I had been standing less than a second ago.

In a straight line the belt helped me move almost blindingly fast, accelerating in an instant to speeds I could have never achieved on my own. I crossed the four lane street in under two seconds, then whipped around and dropped down into cover behind a concrete planter block.

I dropped to my knees, skidding slightly on the knee pads of my armor and the toes of my boots. The belt was screaming at me again, but with my heart rate spiking from the stress of combat I was in no place to listen.

Everything faded away from my perception as my vision narrowed on my targets. Six soldiers had trained weapons on my hiding spot, the first three fell with precision bursts from my rifle before the others managed to return fire.

I dropped prone behind my cover and instinctively ejected my magazine, not even noticing that my hands were moving so fast that I managed to fully load and chamber my weapon before the spent magazine had hit the ground.

This time instead of popping over my cover I rolled to the side, bringing my sights to bear on an opponent and firing. He dropped with a cry of pain and I rolled back into cover, but not before a shot from one of the remaining troops pinged off the shoulder piece of my armor, scoring a gash in the robust metal.

Before I could rise again to resume firing, I heard a hail of gunfire erupt down the street, breaking me out of my almost trance-like state as my brain tried to piece together what was happening. When I peeked around my cover I saw troops in white and blue armor, the Atlesians I guessed, were surging forwards, pouring fire into the remaining enemies.

As I watched, the last two enemies dropped and one of the soldiers called out "First team, check that firing position! Second and third provide cover!."

The remaining dozen or so Atlesian soldiers spread out, taking up positions in cover around the street as the lead pair sprinted towards the enemy cover and leapt over it. I heard some small noises of scuffling before a single shot rang out and the lead scout called out again "Clear! All Waffles down!"

As soon as the area was secured I could feel a slight lessening of the energy that the belt had been forcing into me, and at the same time my heart rate began to stabilize back to a more normal level.

"Waffles?" I asked quietly of nobody in particular, then stood up from behind my cover and waved down the sergeant who appeared to be leading the Atlesian squad.

"Sergeant!" I called out, "I got separated from my unit, do you know where the 107th is?"

The sergeant in charge turned towards me, and I could see his armor was scorched and burned from some previous engagement, as well as dusted with pock marks that might have been caused by shrapnel.

"What did you say, soldier?" He asked, tapping a finger against one ear of his blocky helmet. "Come over here, I can't hear you right."

I noticed I had for some reason not spoken in Atlesian. I had used the same language I had used to speak to the belt earlier, though I couldn't remember what it was called. Good to know that at some point I had apparently learned at least two extra languages, even if I couldn't remember doing it.

I jogged out into the street towards him, and his expression changed from curiosity to concern as I emerged back into the sunlight. "Grimm's bollocks lad!" he said, gesturing to the blood on the side of my head and face. "Are you alright? You look like you've been to the grave and back."

I paused and pulled out my "phone" to take a look at myself in the camera. The entire left side of my head and face was covered in dried blood. My hair was slicked down and crusted with it. Even the right side of my face was covered in small scratches and bruises, though they had been mostly healed by the belt's abilities.

My armor seemed to be remarkably undamaged by comparison, with only scuffs and dirt on it. Even the shoulder plate that had been hit directly only had a small scoring of paint removed. Though of course I was missing the helmet, and it was presumably in much worse shape than the rest of my armor based on the damage that had been done to my head.

"Uh, I think I'm okay sergeant" I replied as I pocketed the device "I might have a concussion or something, but I can still fight."

The sergeant, Helmsman, his name tag read, harrumphed and turned to point towards where the soldiers who had been near the destroyed tank were being treated by a medic.

"Get yourself checked out, if doc clears you for combat then you're on rearguard. I don't know where any units from the 107th are, and I don't have the troops to spare to get you back to base, so you're with us now."

With a nod, I set off towards the medic, a fresh faced private who seemed to be struggling under the weight of his own equipment, particularly the oversized backpack he was carrying with a blue cross on the back.

Friendship? The belt asked, sharing an emotion of closeness and reliability. "Yup" I whispered back "Something like that."

Ten minutes later the squad was getting ready to move out. Private Wilks, the combat medic, was almost finished with his rushed examination of my wounds.

"Well, uh, you sort of seem fine actually" he said, confusion evident on his face as he scrunched up his nose and adjusted his glasses with his forearms, taking care not to touch his face with his blood covered nitrile gloves. "Actually if I didn't know better I would say this was somebody else's blood. You're not one of the operatives are you?"

"Doc, I'm not sure I even know what that is" I answered, loading up a new magazine by hand while he worked.

"Right, uh, yeah okay." he stuttered "Man you really got hit hard huh? I mean really really hard. I've never had to deal with amnesia before."

I slapped the magazine home into my rifle and chambered a new round, before removing the magazine and slotting an extra round into the magazine to replace the one I had in the chamber. Some habit compelled me to do so, though logically I knew that one extra bullet probably wouldn't make much of a difference.

"Look" I said "I'm still fit to fight, I'm lucid, and I know where I am, anything else can wait until we get back to base."

Wilks hemmed and hawed for a minute before ultimately deciding I was in 'good enough' shape to help guard the wounded with him as we moved through the city. He did have one condition though, that I take a replacement helmet from one of the fallen soldiers. He didn't get much of an argument from me.

The helmets were a bulky design that covered much of the head and face, leaving only the mouth open to the air. They also appeared to be visorless from the front, though I could see out remarkably well from the inside of the helmet.

As we progressed through the streets at a slow but steady pace I got the rundown on the situation from Private Wilks and the less injured members of the rearguard.

We were in Argus, a city in the north of Mistral (A continent) that had been attacked by the Wings Of Freedom criminal organization. The name felt familiar to me for some reason, though I couldn't place it in the same way that I couldn't remember why I had recognized the tank.

Their leader, the self proclaimed Nobleman Hackett had manipulated the nobility in Mistral into backing his claim to power after he had managed to take over several major trading cities by expanding his criminal organization, subjugating rival gang leaders and buying out corrupt politicians.

He also had several huntsmen, individuals who had the true power of their soul unlocked, aiding him in his war. A select group of those huntsmen were his closest advisors, and had taken on code names to solidify their reputation amongst their own troops. Hackett himself had taken the name Kratos to reflect his strength, while other names like Hyperion and Hermes reflected their semblances' abilities of light and speed respectively. Collectively they had begun calling this elite group The Pantheon.

Two weeks ago they had attacked Argus, wiping out the garrison defending the Atlesian military base that was here to defend the port and shipping lanes from grimm and pirates. After completely solidifying their control over the city and evacuating much of the populace, they had broadcast a message to Atlas high command, daring General Ironwood to try to take the city back.

Never one to let innocent civilians be bullied by criminals, and eager for justice for fallen Atlas soldiers, The Atlesian army had deployed several flying warships and multiple troop transports to Argus in order to take the city back as swiftly as possible.

Resistance had been heavier than expected, the WoF (Or Waffles as I found many of the soldiers referred to them) had brought heavy artillery and air support to the battle.

Fortunately, Atlesian operatives (our answer to their huntsmen) had been able to range far ahead of our forces and perform sabotage operations against their heavy equipment.

Then our own heavy artillery had arrived on one of the transport craft and the battle had quickly shifted in our favor. At this point much of the enemy force had been forced to evacuate to the surrounding countryside, where they would be harassed by grimm and eventually forced to either attack the city to get back inside the walls or retreat all the way back to Wind Path, the city they had previously been using as their main base of operations.

The Waffles hadn't taken loss well though, and a lot of Atlesian units had recently been hit by ambushes or hit and run attacks like the one we had just experienced. They had also brought down the communications tower in Mistral Capital and begun jamming local frequencies, which was why we had no communications beyond some bulky vehicle based communication systems.

That part tickled something at the back of my brain, some knowledge I had about communication systems, but I couldn't piece it together while still on the lookout for enemy ambushes.

For now, I resolved to keep my guard up, and do my best to help out while we pushed towards our objective, a residential building to our south that had previously been used as a munition dump.

With my mind made up and any doubts shoved aside for the time being, I refocused on my surroundings, just in time to notice a shape leap across the gap from one ten story building to another. I barely had time to shout a warning before the shape dropped off the new building right into the center of our formation and all hell broke loose.