FM3 - V1 C1: A Dark and Stormy Night

Volume 1, Chapter 1

A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

A lone hero stands against a band of thieves and creatures... but not everything is as it seems.

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This series is intentionally written in transcript form instead of traditional text to give it more of a feeling like the original “RWBY” show.

Italics and (Parentheses) are for visual descriptions

ALL-CAPS are usually used for names, and

Border Lines mark where the scene changes.

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This chapter also follows the events and original characters introduced in the series' introductory prologue, the "Quartz" Trailer, so it's encouraged to look through that before reading below.

With that all said, hope you enjoy!

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Fade in on the flat silhouette of a silver temple against a dark background, the camera moving down as an unseen older man speaks.

NARRATOR: "Legacy... Tomorrow's hope forged today... What is our world if not the leftovers of those who came before, and their actions to shape the future we now live in?"

The camera pans down further to the statue of a feathered serpent, its eyes gleaming with white that covers the screen and transitions to images of two groups of people back-to-back; one group appears normal, but the others have animal tails or pointed ears. The background changes to red, and shadows with skull-like faces appear on all sides, taking the forms of wolves, birds, lizards, tigers, and even spirits. In response, some of the people now hold colored crystals, while others glow with a shimmering light.

NARRATOR: "Since we first rose from the dirt, Humans with their ingenuity and Faunus with their gifts from nature have been tormented by the Creatures of Grimm. Those nightmares made ashen flesh destroy all that we know, and even with Aura to power our Semblances and Dust to fuel our weapons, it takes everything we have to hold back the darkness threatening to consume us."

Cut to a picture of two silhouetted warriors, swords swinging at the monsters. Suddenly, they turn on each other, crossing blades, and cracks shatter between the scene like glass, showing various still moments of cruelty in each fragment: A man stabbing his knife into the heart of another, a crowned ruler commanding over a chained slave with horns, a child holding his empty bowl to a fat man ripping into a chicken leg.

NARRATOR: "With extinction on the line, we could band together against this common threat... yet it seems we are destined to reject unity, dividing ourselves to conquer those found to be beneath us. What more proof is needed than the Great War between kingdoms?"

The camera pans down past burning red eyes to a map showing the continents in the world of Remnant, where green swordsmen in the south, blue archers in the east, grey marksmen in the north, and orange spear wielders in the west all point their weapons at each other while the sounds of metal ringing and bombs going boom faintly play in the background.

NARRATOR: "Fear of the Grimm and mistrust of our neighbors led to a decade of senseless violence and countless lives lost. When the smoke cleared, this is what was left for our future: An age of peace to train new warriors, noble Huntsmen and Huntresses to protect us from the Grimm."

While the soldiers fade away, a green king with a golden crown, scepter, and sword emerges from the center of the map. He lifts the staff overhead, and in a burst of emerald electricity, new warriors appear around him who do the same with their weapons, including two hooded individuals, a yellow man with a sword and a purple woman with an axe.

More lightning bursts on screen, and the setting changes to that of a tall pine forest at night, the clouds pouring down a light rain on the dirt road below, where over a dozen grey blocky trucks are being driven in a line. As the voice speaks, the brief flashes accompanied by thunder show men in raggedy blue uniforms gripping cutlasses and small squirming black bodies with metal around their necks, while inside one of the rumbling trucks, a figure is sitting in the darkness, moving their arm in a sawing motion.

NARRATOR: "Even still, those beasts are merely kept at bay, free to roam the wilds and grow stronger, planning our downfall in the shadows. For all the scars we suffered from each other and the monsters that plague us still, are we content to settle with fleeting fallible heroes... or are we willing to do whatever it takes to find the true cure, lighting an eternal flame across time to bring us into a new utopia?"

WUNDERBAR: (speaking offscreen as the trucks continue to drive on) "But even pure perfection might birth horrors beyond imagination. A flame can hurt more than it helps... and you risk yourself getting burned."

At the speech's conclusion, a loud whirring sound is heard through the air for only a moment before lightning cracks across the sky right as an explosion of fire strikes several trees, causing one of the heavy pines to fall on its side, right in the middle of the dirt road, embers sizzling off the wood. The lead truck brakes just in time to avoid a collision, and the rest of the convoy follows suit.

Inside the first truck, two guards are wearing black padded vests and helmets, an older mustached man at the wheel and a wide-eyed younger newbie, both looking out the window.

GUARD #1: "What in the gods' name was that?! A lightning bolt?"

GUARD #2: (stepping out of the truck) "I'm not so sure... but it's blocked us in. Call the rest of the convoy and tell them we need to reroute fast."

GUARD #1: "Okay, okay..." (picking up a crackling radio on the dashboard) "This is Recovery One, we- AAAHHH!"

The scream is a reaction to the dark mass of fur striking the younger guard's window, bone white teeth and claws scratching at the glass. The older guard rushes around the front of the truck, and the creature lands on the ground, a black rat over a foot long with small spikes running down its back and red eyes now glaring at its new target. With a screech, the rat rushes at the older guard, who pulls out a bulky pistol and fires into it, sending the monster flying back. It twitches for a moment until its body quickly disintegrates, leaving behind a broken metallic circle.

GUARD #1: (opening the door) "W-Was that a Grimm?!"

GUARD #2: (approaching where the creature disappeared) "A Rodaunt. Not that dangerous on their own, but nasty little things all the same. This, though..." (he crouches down and picks up the shattered sparking remains of a collar, glaring at it) "This comes from us."

As he says this, more chittering is heard, and he looks towards the trees to his side, where dozens of beady red eyes look back at him. The older guard cocks his gun right as the swarm of Rodaunts charge forward, quickly stepping back while firing the pistol; two of them go down, but more rush in and almost get to him before he climbs back up into the truck and slams the door shut, the terrified rookie pushed to the driver's seat.

GUARD #1: "Oh, gods!" (screams again as Rodaunts slam themselves against his side as well) "What do we do? What do we do?!"

GUARD #2: (reloading his firearm as the Grimm start to crack the window and shake the vehicle) "Call! For! Backup!"

GUARD #1: (grabbing the radio again and yelling) "Recovery One, requesting backup! Grimm are attacking! I repeat, Grimm are attacking!"

In the other trucks, more guards in black hear the distress call, unholstering their weapons and climbing out to the fray. The Rodaunts notice the new arrivals as gunshots sound to take out a few of them, and they scurry forward, either getting blasted into smoke or sliced at with combat knives when they try to leap on the soldiers.

As two more men climb out with shotguns and run to the front of the convoy, the guards inside the very last truck at the back of the line don't look to be in a hurry.

GUARD #3: (nervously) "Shouldn't, uh, we be helping, too?"

GUARD #4: (waving him off lazily, rolling down the window to lean out and look at the battle several yards away) "Nah, that's what our 'extra protection' is for. Besides, we've gotta keep an eye on the situation from back here, to make sure nothing surprises us from behind."

As if on cue, a steel cutlass presses its tip against the back of the languid guard's neck, who suddenly goes stiff with fear. The timid guard notices right before a knock on his window alerts him to two Northern Buccaneers, one of whom aims her flintlock pistol at the guard inside.

GUARD #3: (gulps) "Well... We suck at our job."

Cut to the back doors of the truck opening, and the Northern Buccaneers laugh at the sight of what's inside: A host of marble statues, framed paintings, and gleaming gold jewelry. The pirates jump in and begin grabbing everything they can get their hands on, tossing necklaces and stone busts to their mates outside as they pile them in large rectangular crates. Moments later, the Buccaneers disperse, leaving the truck empty save for the two guards now tied up together and gagged with ropes.

Around the next two trucks ahead, a pair of enforcers are cracking open the doors; the shorter one in a mustard yellow sweater uses a wand with a red Dust crystal at its tip, melting through the lock, while the taller criminal wearing faded tan uses his curved cane like a crowbar and jerks it down to break the latch. The pirates resume looting, and when their crates are full, they rush back to the tree line.

One guard sees the fleeing Buccaneers with their cargo and moves to stop them, letting out a "Hey!" until he gets knocked to the ground by a Rodaunt at his hip. The guard cuts at the creature with his knife, and he's forced to get back up and help the rest of his fellow soldiers.

Meanwhile, the pirates run up the inclined hill, the rain blocked by the dense foliage overhead, and they set down their stolen goods in piles. A blonde woman in a blue overcoat and triangular hat barks at them in a commanding voice, while a man in a red suit and white furs is fiddling with a remote next to her.

LEAN JEAN: "Come on, men, no lollygagging! We make this quick, then we eat like kings!"

CRUOR: "I must say, Captain, this seems to be a very lucrative partnership." (while speaking, he points his remote at the front of the convoy, and a yellow light on its surface causes the Rodaunts to be shocked by their collars, focusing their enraged attacks on the guards)

LEAN JEAN: "Not used to doing a job on land, but between your beasties and my boys, it's almost too easy!"

CRUOR: "Indeed." (glances further back from the road in the direction of a dark figure sitting like a statue on a solitary rock, gripping a large firearm) "Think we'll have any trouble that requires our 'secret weapon'?"

LEAN JEAN: "Ha! Against these lumps of lumbering lugs? I'd like to see them try!"

Down below on the dirt road, the two enforcers are together at the next truck, the shorter one burning through its lock when his head cocks to the side.

HORNET: "Hey, Jackal, are you hearing something?"

JACKAL: (sighs) "Well, there's thunder, gunfire, and an idiot asking stupid questions, so yes, Hornet, I hear multiple somethings."

HORNET: "No, no, I'm serious. It almost sounds like..."

He finishes cutting through the hatch, and when Jackal opens the door, the two hear a haunting song coming from inside, being played on the violin with a long bow by a woman sitting down, eyes closed behind her round glasses and focused on the music. Her chestnut-colored braid is draped over one shoulder, and she wears a newsboy cap, a leather-brown trench coat over a dress shirt, and a burgundy tie with a matching plaid skirt.

HORNET: (slack jawed, asking an equally stunned Jackal) "Now who's this supposed to be?"

JACKAL: (shaking his head and looking annoyed as he marches into the truck, pointing at her with his metal cane) "You, girl, stop playing!" (when it seems she doesn't hear him, he gets even angrier and steps forward, reaching his free hand out to grab the black violin) "Didn't you hear me over that racket? I said knock it off with the loouuussssyyyyy..."

As one of the woman's violet eyes opens, Jackal's voice slows to a distorted crawl, his hand barely moving towards her instrument. Her eye studies him, and then Hornet at the heavy closing door, his wand to the side as he continues to look dumbfounded. A small smirk creeps from the corner of her mouth right as time returns to normal speed.

In that instant, her bow flicks and whacks the oncoming hand, which Jackal retracts as he steps back, giving her enough space to swing the entire violin in a downward arc to meet with his chin in an uppercut move. As Jackal's head crashes into the truck's roof, Hornet points his wand at her, the red crystal glowing, but his arm gets yanked back as the thrown violin bow is suddenly pinning his sleeve to the door. He only has enough time to look back as the woman dashes towards him and delivers a knee to his gut that makes the door swing open, slamming against the side of the truck before slowly creaking back around. The bow's owner takes it back from the unconscious thug's sleeve and lets him fall to the ground.

SHIRLEY: (looking back at the other unseen enger in the truck, someone with purple coattails and a dull orange top hat covering his loudly snoring face) "If you'll excuse me."

With a parting nod, Shirley Locket hops down from the vehicle and resumes her serenade, the quickened notes drawing the attention of the Northern Buccaneers as she appears from between the trucks. They look baffled at each other, then one of them runs at her with his sword, only for Shirley to deflect his two swings with the bow and swipe his legs from under him, continuing the song as if nothing happened. Another pirate rushes her from the other side, but she ducks under the attack and uses the temporary pause in the music to slam her violin's base into his chest, where he collides with a truck.

By now, more Buccaneers are coming at her from all sides, taking just long enough for Shirley's song to reach a peak before she takes the bow away from the violin and spins the entire instrument around in her hand, the casing undergoing a transformation into a gauntlet that covers her right forearm. The four strings detach from their base and come to rest at the tips of her fingers, each wire topped with a small blade so that when she spins in a circle, the wires extend all around her and push the pirates back.

Now with her weapon Barghest unleashed, Shirley waves and gestures her hand like a conductor, the strings cutting through one opponent's cutlass while two more get their limbs wrapped up in the wires and tossed aside. A Buccaneer tries firing his gun at Shirley from a distance while her back is turned, but time again slows down when she looks to see the incoming bullet, and she deftly swipes her bow at the shot, deflecting it with ease. The pirate fires again and again, and Shirley instantly blocks each attempt to hit her until finally aiming a wire at the pistol and whipping it out of the goon's hand, only for it to come around and strike him in the back of the head with his own gun.

Up on the hill amidst the trees, Lean Jean and Cruor watch her with a mix of awe, fear, and ire as Shirley effortlessly dances her way through the Buccaneers, getting close enough to the battle at the front of the convoy for the Rodaunts to notice her. When they try to attack, however, Shirley's hand twitches, and the wires fly even faster, moving through the Grimm and slicing them in halves that start disintegrating before they even know what's happening.

CRUOR: "Now where did SHE come from?!"

LEAN JEAN: "Doesn't matter. Bring the kid out, then get my men back to the ship with our loot."

Cruor scrambles deeper into the forest as Lean Jean heads the opposite way towards the road, pulling out an oversized frying pan from her waist. Cruor soon reaches the figure on the rock, still gripping their weapon.

CRUOR: "We've got a Huntress!"

In response, the "kid" climbs down, the audience only seeing their jeans and black rubber boots.

Back at the convoy, a guard is flailing under six Rodaunts crawling all over him, but in an instant, the last of the Grimm get cut to pieces and fade away. The guard looks up to see Shirley offering him a hand with a neutral expression, and he gladly takes it, standing back up.

GUARD #5: "Thanks. I thought for sure I was-"

Without warning, Shirley's head jerks to the side as if sensing something, and she grabs the guard around his waist, jumping with him to the roof of a truck just as the ground beneath them explodes in a shower of dirt from the red-hot cannonball now lying at its epicenter. The guard shakily leaves Shirley's grasp as she narrows her eyes at Lean Jean, leaving the tree line with her uneven gait due to the cannon that replaces her right leg.

LEAN JEAN: "I have to say, you're one violent violinist. Sure made tonight interesting, if nothing else. So how about a last little duel, give yourself a bit of a challenge?" (she twirls her frying pan with ease)

SHIRLEY: (after considering for a moment, she shrugs) "Very well. To make things fair, you won't use that leg of yours, and I won't use these." (she extends her arm and flexes her hand, causing the wires to instantly retract into claw tips over the fingers)

LEAN JEAN: "Sounds like a deal." (she hoists the pan over her shoulder, then curls her other hand in a beckoning "come here" gesture) "Your move."

Shirley crouches down, then leaps from the truck, her bow aimed right at Lean Jean, but the pirate captain brings her pan around to block the stab, pushing back and causing Shirley to land a few feet away. She sees Lean Jean use the pan to scoop up and toss a cloud of dirt in front of her, then she comes racing through it, the pan's dish unwinding and telescoping until it becomes a large hook that its wielder attempts to bring down on Shirley. She manages to block the swing with her gauntlet, and her bowstring slices between the two, disengaging them from each other so the fighters can step back.

As Lean Jean turns her hook to a pan, Shirley advances once more, launching several successive swipes and slashes that the captain defends against. With Shirley's last feint, Lean Jean swings her pan down to force Shirley's weapon to be lowered, then swings it back up around to knock against Shirley's gauntlet, causing her arms to be spread wide and open for attack. Lean Jean's pan once more shifts into its hook form, and she moves it behind her to get ready for a stab.

Then Shirley's eyes once more see the world slowed down for a moment, coming out of it to fall back under the attack and perform an impromptu flip that kicks Lean Jean's weapon from her hand. When Shirley is on her feet a second later, she charges ahead and flattens her clawed right hand, striking it right in Lean Jean's abdomen. The captain launches back through the air with a spin until she hits the ground, and around her body flickers Lean Jean's Aura, an aqua-colored light of defense.

SHIRLEY: "Are you ready to it defeat yet?"

LEAN JEAN: (getting up to a crouch on one knee, laughing humorlessly) "That's the honorable thing to do, right? I really don't want to go back on my word... but I'm sure I'll get over it."

With that, Lean Jean's right leg appears in front of her, and the cannon glows red around the rim before a flaming ball bursts out of the opening towards Shirley, the captain's grin confident in her trick.

Shirley, however, just smirks yet again, not even batting an eye; she simply grips the bow with both hands and swings down, where a white wave of energy erupts from the arc of her weapon and travels forward. It cuts the cannonball in two, then continues onward to kick up the road's dirt and strike Lean Jean, blasting her even further back and causing her Aura to shatter into particles.

Groaning in pain with her face in the ground, Lean Jean rolls over on her back to see Shirley standing there with her bow blade aimed downward.

SHIRLEY: "NOW it's over. You'll return what your men stole, and you'll all be taken into custody to-"

Her demands are cut short when the whirring noise is heard again, and from the other side of the road, a shot hits the lead truck's body at breakneck speed, impacting through the other side in a shower of sparks, fire, and the burning remains of colorful antique parchment that blacken into soot even as they fall through the rain. The older and younger guards hastily exit the smoldering vehicle, and Shirley looks on in horror, but her gaze hardens when a shadow leaps over the destroyed truck.

It lands before the flames, standing up slowly, its clothes fading from black to their normal colors. The camera pans up to see the green and yellow coat (now with orange stitched patches), chrome railgun rifle, and spiked blonde hair of Franklin Stein. Without missing a beat, he empties the smoking round from his weapon, inserts a new one into the top from his pocket, and looks back at Shirley with his intense brown eyes, readying himself in a battle stance as Ferula Bolt's railgun form compresses to that of a dual-headed baton.

LEAN JEAN: (laughing, to Shirley) "The kid sure knows how to make an entrance, huh?"

Wordlessly, Shirley steps away from Lean Jean, moving towards Franklin. She stops at a certain distance, and they size each other up in the glow of the truck's fire, not moving a muscle.

When lightning and thunder boom above them, Franklin makes his move, dashing at Shirley as she aims her hand and fires all four wires at her enemy. Franklin ducks and sways between the strings while still coming closer, so Shirley lifts the wires away to swing her bow at him, only for him to bring his baton forward and catch the blade between his weapon's two lengths. He twists it around in one fluid motion and sends the bow spinning off in an unseen direction.

Taking a step back, Shirley swings the strings at Franklin, but he jumps over their path and lands, immediately running around Shirley while she continues to manipulate her wires. Somehow, Franklin manages to duck, leap, or deflect every attempt to hit him, and he finally stops as Shirley readies another wave of attacks, his clothes becoming the same grey as his weapon. When she launches the strings with their sharpened points first, he bats them away with enough force to cause a gust of wind that sends the wires limply flying away.

Shirley doesn't let herself get fazed, instead twirling in place and letting the strings dance around her like a twister. When she aims it at Franklin, he quickly touches his rubber boots and makes his outfit black again, letting him move faster and with more dexterity than before to weave his way through the wires.

As he almost reaches her, Shirley slows down her perception of time once more, where she sees that Franklin's speed lets him move quicker than others have through her Semblance's view, and now she carefully watches for her fingers' movements to manipulate the strings as she wants, two wrapping around the baton while another wire heads for his left arm. Satisfied, she speeds up her time again, realizing only too late that his free hand is reaching for the dirt, scooping some up at the same moment his clothes change from black to brown.

With his fist clenched, Franklin's arm gets wrapped in string, and his rock-like defense prevents him from feeling harm as he pulls on the wire, jerking Shirley forward close enough that Franklin can toss the dirt from his hand into her eyes. Instantly, she cries out in alarm and steps away, her strings still wrapped around the baton, and Franklin uses this opportunity to absorb the strength of his weapon's steel and swing her around by her own wires, spinning the blinded Huntress straight into the path of his baton's jabbing blow.

The strings slide off as Shirley gets tossed back from the hit, her own white Aura flashing briefly as a sign of its impending breaking point. Grunting in pain, she still stands back up, rubbing the dirt from her reddened eyes and trying to slow the world down only to find it speeds back up as soon as she attempts it. Her sight does focus on Franklin, however, and Shirley prepares her wires again.

LEAN JEAN: "That's enough!" (both Shirley and Franklin turn their attention to the pirate captain, now with her hook back in hand and curved around the rookie guard's throat, as she speaks to the Huntress) "As fun as this night was, I think now we'll do this the simple way and have YOU help with hauling the rest of OUR loot. Wouldn't want an innocent life on your conscience, would you?"

Shirley looks ready to fight regardless, but stealing a glance at Franklin, she realizes she can't win in these conditions, and her shoulders slump forward in defeat, Barghest's strings withdrawing into the glove.

LEAN JEAN: "See? I knew you were a smartie."

Franklin looks on at Shirley's acceptance of her own defeat before he walks over to Lean Jean's side, still holding his baton.

LEAN JEAN: "You did good work tonight, kid, but I'm a little mad that a couple thousand Lien went up in smoke over there just because you wanted to be dramatic. Not exactly according to plan, you know?"

FRANKLIN: (not looking at her) "Neither was taking captives."

LEAN JEAN: (scoffing) "What, are you going soft on me?"

FRANKLIN: "No. I just hate improvising."

With that, Franklin suddenly moves, the head of his baton ri and catching Lean Jean's hook between its grips. In a spinning motion, he moves the hook away from the guard's neck, then Franklin grabs his shoulder and tosses him away from Lean Jean, who he hits with his elbow to make her stagger away. As Shirley looks on in shock and confusion, Lean Jean recovers and bends low, getting ready to fire her cannon leg, only to find Franklin aiming his railgun rifle right at her face.

LEAN JEAN: (panting heavily) "So that's how it is, huh? It's come down to mutiny, is that it?"

FRANKLIN: "I'm not part of your crew, Captain."

LEAN JEAN: "You hire us on for a job, I'd say a certain code of honor still stands."

FRANKLIN: "I'm sure you'll get over it." (she scowls hearing her own words used back, so he hoists the rifle up to his eye level) "Your men have stolen more than enough already. Take what you have and leave. Now."

There's a pregnant pause as Lean Jean looks to move her leg forward while Franklin's finger remains steady on the trigger. Finally, she sighs, straightening back up to her full height, but her glare remains fixed on Franklin.

LEAN JEAN: "I'll be seeing you again soon. You mark my words."

Her right leg angles forward, and the ground beneath her explodes in a burst of dirt and stone, launching Lean Jean through the air and back into the dense tree line where she disappears from their sight.

When she's gone and the storm begins to lighten up, Franklin lowers his railgun, then turns to a cautious Shirley, dropping the weapon to the ground. He lifts his arms over his head, remaining stoic even as the convoy guards converge on them, aiming their own firearms at him. A distant rumble of thunder follows his next calm words.

FRANKLIN: "I'd like to talk."

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Smash cut to Franklin, still without showing emotion, now sitting in a chair under a bright light in a dark interrogation room, with his hands cuffed to a table.

SHIRLEY: (pacing around him, reading off a clipboard) "As it stands, your charges are substantial. Attacking a militarized convoy transporting pre-Great War art, conspiring with thieves and Grimm wranglers to steal said priceless valuables, destroying them with a highly dangerous unauthorized weapon, and fighting against a Huntress in her line of duty."

FRANKLIN: "If it's any consolation, you didn't make it easy."

SHIRLEY: (stops pacing to give him an evil eye) "Flattery won't work here... but what MIGHT help is telling me any information you have about the whereabouts of Lean Jean Splinter and Cruor de Mink."

She drops two labeled files on the table in front of Franklin showing clipped pictures of each outlaw; LEAN JEAN SPLINTER is topped with a grainy photo taken from a distance as the paper beneath it describes her as "Captain of the Antilla (stolen) and leader of the Northern Buccaneers" who is "Based around the coasts of Sanus stealing from cargo ships", while CRUOR DE MINK displays his mug shot along with his two "Known Associates" Jackal and Hornet, claiming that he "Developed shock collar technology for smaller Grimm, used in illegal underground animal fighting rings" and "Last arrest assisted by Talutah T., but charges dropped due to lack of conclusive evidence."

SHIRLEY: (continues with arms crossed) "Both of these figures are notorious criminals, and if your assistance leads to their arrest and the recovery of what they took, you might be able to earn an easier sentence for yourself than the life of imprisonment that awaits you now."

FRANKLIN: "What I have to say doesn't concern them."

SHIRLEY: "Are you really staying loyal to a band of thugs you already turned on?"

FRANKLIN: "Loyalty has nothing to do with it. The information I have is much more valuable than them."

SHIRLEY: (leaning across the table) "I'll be the judge of that."

FRANKLIN: "No. I can only share this with your boss."

SHIRLEY: (after a careful pause, she sighs, standing back up) "Normally, I'd say I have no idea what you're talking about... but it seems he wants to speak to you as well. I ask that you be respectful to the Heaster of Beacon Academy and one of the world's greatest Huntsman."

She heads over to the door, opening it to darkness outside, the sound of a cane tapping closer... and then in comes an eccentric man, dark skinned with a white goatee and golden eyes, dressed in bottle green pants, a butterscotch yellow shirt, a swirling pink and blue bowtie, and a deep plum purple jacket with coattails bedazzled with multicolored rhinestones. On his head is a dull orange top hat, and in his hand is a silver and red cane.

WUNDERBAR: "Helloooo, Mr. Felon! It is my absolute pleasure to meet you!" (vigorously shakes Franklin's chained hands up and down before he smacks himself on top of his hat and takes a deep bow) "Oh, but where are my manners? Professor Wunderbar, at your service! Tell me, would you care for a licorice stick?"

The Heaster reaches inside his jacket to retrieve a bag of black and red licorice, offering it to Franklin as he sits in the chair opposite him, but is met with silence and an imive stare while Shirley lightly massages her temple in embarrassment. Nonplussed, Wunderbar shrugs and takes three for himself.

WUNDERBAR: "In that case, more for me!" (he happily starts chewing the snacks, their ends still sticking out from his lips as he puts the candy away and speaks) "Sho... you sheem to be quite the troubled young man..." (gulps and gestures) "What with attacking an armored convoy like that alongside a bunch of pirates. And using such a powerful weapon to boot! Not your own design, I'm guessing?" (gives a sideways glance, hoping for a response, but nothing yet) "Still, what impresses me isn't the firepower so much as the BRAINpower. Trapping the trucks was a good move, and you even figured out the blind spot in Miss Locket's Semblance, but I'm most interested in why you surrendered near the end." (turning to his associate) "What was your theory again?"

SHIRLEY: (stepping forward, hands on her hips) "That he was showing off his combat skills. He's not the BEST... but he's good, and so the whole point of the robbery was that he wanted us to know that firsthand."

WUNDERBAR: "Well, I do love a good audition, though I'm wondering what he was auditioning FOR in that case." (fixes Franklin with a stare, still smiling but far less silly) "You knew we were hitchhiking a ride back to Vale in those trucks, so even you and your friends couldn't POSSIBLY win, but what in all that could be worth a lifetime in jail?"

FRANKLIN: (lowers his head in thought as he speaks) "Like you said, I'm not the best yet. That's why I want to train where the best are made." (looks Wunderbar in the eyes) "I want to attend Beacon."

The demand hangs heavy in the air for a moment.

WUNDERBAR: "Mhm... Mhmhmhm... Mhahahaha-HAHAHAHAHA!" (continues laughing as he slaps his knee) "Oh, my, and here I thought you didn't have a sense of humor! Hahaha, heeheehee, hoohoo..."

SHIRLEY: (leaning down) "Sir? I don't think he's joking."

WUNDERBAR: "Hehe, huh-hmm, what?" (when he stops guffawing, he sees Franklin's face is still serious) "Oh. Hmm. I'll be honest, that... might make it even funnier." (chuckles a little before he leans forward with his cane, adopting an almost mocking tone) "If you don't see the problem, I'll say this clearly: Little boys that break the law and ambush people for things that don't belong to them aren't typically the ones who get into the most prestigious school in the world. Shocking, I know, but that's how it is."

FRANKLIN: "You're the most influential man in Vale. You can easily get my charges dropped."

WUNDERBAR: (shrugs and stands up) "Not untrue, but unfortunately, I'm not quite willing to abuse my power on a young man who thinks that a few tricks make him above the law." (Shirley opens the door for him to leave first, turning his back and waving behind him) "So adieu and farewell, Mr. Felon, and I'll send a nice gift basket to whatever cell you-"

FRANKLIN: "Nightkey."

Wunderbar instantly stops. Slowly, his hand lowers, and he turns back with an unreadable expression to Franklin, still sitting there calmly.

SHIRLEY: "Sir?" (worriedly) "... Professor?"

WUNDERBAR: (at Shirley's words, he produces a big grin and looks at her) "Shirley, my dear, speaking of gift baskets, I think I have a few bags of sea salt taffies in my luggage. Would you be kind enough to them out to the officers here? I'm sure they're tired of the cops and donuts trope, hahaha!"

SHIRLEY: "But wait, sir, what does he mean by-"

WUNDERBAR: "That should be all, Miss Locket. Thank you very much."

After getting shut down by her boss, still smiling despite the dismissal in his voice, Shirley is at a loss for words, looking hurt for a second until she nods to Wunderbar, then glares at Franklin one last time before stepping out. When she does so, Wunderbar quietly closes the door, then props his cane against the knob, cautiously walking back to the table and seating himself again with his hands clasped.

WUNDERBAR: "Well? I'm listening."

Cut to black.

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MOSWEN: "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap crap crap, I am SO late..."

The scene reopens with a tall skinny boy running across the sidewalks through the idyllic shopping streets of Vale under a bright blue sky. He's dressed in a brown tool vest, light yellow button-up shirt, golden bracers and collar, orange baggy pants, and a beige desert hat with flaps that wave around as he rushes, carrying a heavy leather suitcase in his arms.

MOSWEN: (mumbling to himself in a panic) "Maybe they're late too? Maybe everyone else's alarms stopped working, or they need extra time to get the luggage onboard, or... AH! They're leaving right on time!"

He rounds a corner around some buildings to see the docks below, where a white ferry is steadily moving away from shore while a crowd is waving its engers goodbye. The boy doubles down on his rushing, jumping over the stairs to land on the wooden pier and squeezing himself through the assembled loved ones shouting their last-minute goodbyes.

MOSWEN: "Excuse me, pardon me, sorry, gotta hurry here! Come on, come on..."

He reaches the very end of the dock, the ferry already several feet away and the gap growing larger with each second. The tall boy looks around for a solution, but with none in sight, he steels himself and hoists the suitcase in one hand, while the other reaches for the boat, a golden circle appearing before his palm. From the circle emerges a glowing yellow hand, paper thin, that stretches out and grabs a railing on the ferry; the boy flexes his fingers, and the arm shortens, sending Moswen flying off the pier while the crowd looks on in awe.

He quickly finds himself over the boat's deck, dismissing the arm construct so he can fall down and land on his feet, only to almost lose his balance due to the weight of his suitcase. After he rights himself, he sees many of the other engers, all teens in various outfits like him, looking at the boy with mild interest.

MOSWEN: "Um... ta-da?" (awkwardly jazz hands)

In an instant, everyone goes back to ignoring him, talking with their friends and checking their flip phones (or "Tomes"). The boy sighs with a mixture of relief, disappointment, and exhaustion, so he walks around through the teens standing and tries to find an empty seat. Without him realizing, he es one short girl in punk clothing with grey hair and a wolf tail rifling through her duffel bag filled with spray paint cans, and he doesn't notice another young woman wearing a purple cape and red bodysuit who expertly creates a number of string figures between her hands with a bored look.

After more searching where he's straining to even carry his suitcase anymore, the tall boy finds a seat under a window right beside the doorway outside, next to someone unseen behind a large newspaper with articles titled "ROUGE ROGUE STRIKES AGAIN", "SHELL CORP UNVEILS NEW PROSTHETIC", and "FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE LAST KING'S DEATH".

MOSWEN: (nervously approaching the newspaper reader) "Excuse me, but would you mind if I sat there?"

One of the hands holding the paper gestures to its side near the empty seat, and Moswen takes the invitation, sitting down.

MOSWEN: "Thank you." (he sets the suitcase in his lap, but noticing everyone else talking with their fellow engers, he works up the nerve to clear his throat and say) "Uh, by the way, I'm Moswen Zoser."

He reaches a friendly hand out to his neighbor, and with a sigh, the newspaper lowers, revealing who is behind it.

FRANKLIN: "Franklin Stein." (hesitantly grabs Moswen's hand and shakes it before resuming his reading)

MOSWEN: "Okay... Nice to meet you?"

Placing his hands back on his case, Moswen avoids eye by looking out the window. The camera pans out from the ferry traveling across the water, surrounded on each side by large cliffs, and then zooms out further to reveal up high a grand grey and white building, a series of bright green lights in the tallest of its towers fitting the name of "Beacon Academy".

The scene fades to black, and the opening starts to play - "(FATHOM) THE WAY WE ARE" by Trinity Johnson.

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Every day and every night

I try to find my way into the light

And when the time of darkness comes

I'm burning it bright

Beginning with a shot of Remnant as the words "written by CARUS E. LUMEN" appear in white for a moment, the planet rotates backwards, skies swirling in the opposite direction. The camera lowers through the clouds as days and nights reverse back, and the scene focuses on a field of roses swaying gently in the breeze, only to shrink down and lower themselves back into the black soil before they ever bloomed. Without warning, a raging fire smolders back to life, burning through the grass that was once there.

Brief scenes break through each word of the title being revealed in white over a black background: "(FROM)" is paired with the stone engraving of a crowned woman in a dress clutching her head; "MAN" is followed by the image of a large white stone sculpture with markings that turn red and vines crawling up from its base; "MADE" shows grey lines spreading out over a lighter surface when a bright yellow eye opens in the center; "MONSTERS" features bubbles floating up through a green liquid with hazy shadows on the other side of a glass. With a wave of electricity, the screen fully reads "(FROM) MAN MADE MONSTERS".

Deep in the dark of the night inside our hearts

Moswen Zoser is in an empty manor hall, looking at the framed photos on the wall of an older laughing man with a fancy mustache and a little boy wearing an oversized baseball cap sitting on his knee.

There's a world of foolish lies that have torn us all apart

Talutah Tepes walks through a brightly lit building, peering through one doorway to see a trio of preteen girls hugging a child on the floor when it darkens and morphs to the inside of a cave where a boney man with long grey hair is chained.

Things that we've seen aren't what they seem to be

Nuada Glenn leans over a small cliff overlooking a forest, two distant figures hanging out around a campfire, only for the larger of them to vanish suddenly as the full moon overhead turns red.

And no peace of mind can ever hope to set us free

The moon shifts to a black camera lens, and in a metallic facility, Franklin Stein stands before a squad of Shell Soldiers in white armor, turning around to aim his railgun rifle at the camera and blast it, the explosion briefly taking the form of a smiling female.

We were terrorized by those we have called our own

In a white background, various Grimm such as Beowolves, Ursai, Boarbatusks, King Taijitu, Nevermores, Death Stalkers, and even a few new species of small black insectoids follow a mass of collared rat-like Rodaunts that carry on their backs the entire Antilla ship, manned by Northern Buccaneers with Jackal and Hornet fighting over the wheel. Cruor de Mink and Lean Jean Splinter stand on the bow, one's smile subtle and malicious, the other wildly grinning.

Made an outcast in the place we called home

Heaster Wunderbar gestures grandly with his cane before an audience in the amphitheater before he turns and walks through his five Professors, ing right by Shirley Locket; unseen by either of them in a sudden dark void, Wunderbar's face hardens as soon as he's out of sight while Shirley looks back at him with suspicion until they both move on.

Evolution can't make whole what was once a simple soul

Emerging from the darkness is a golden ornament in the shape of a goose with its wings held out and its long neck stretched upward, creating an upside-down cross shape. It hangs off a beaded necklace worn by a girl in black and white robes that match her hair, holding the golden goose with her eyes closed as if in prayer when she's suddenly grabbed into a one-armed hug by a guy with spikey red hair, sporty clothes, a blue and yellow scarf, and a wide grin. She smiles as well when they're ed by a calm girl with dreadlocks wearing a deep green wetsuit and a bitter boy with pale side-swept bangs and a long light blue coat.

But we'll live to die for what is right and reach our goal

As the four friends walk away, Franklin is seen reaching out in vain towards the robed girl, but he sadly lowers his arm and hangs his head, now alone. His attention is drawn to a smiling Moswen to his left, confident Nuada and elegant Talutah to his right, and his eyes focus again, nodding to them as they all start to run with him through the blinding doors of Beacon.

So let the flames come alive and spread around

Let the heat of battle crash and burn it down

Cutting to a canyon and surrounded by Grimm, Moswen uses his SandSedge crook staff to shoot a fireball at an oncoming Creep, while Talutah soars overhead with her gliding wings and spins around to cut through a Nevermore chick with her Carmine Lily blades. Nuada jumps into view, eyes and hair glowing as she shoots her Nimhbanríon revolvers at an Ursa, which Franklin (in his metallic grey clothes) knocks back through the air with his Ferula Bolt baton, only to encounter a tree trunk sized leg like an elephant's crashing down where he stands.

We've been trampled, we've been scorned, we have earned our scars

Panning down, the audience sees a dizzying spiral of new people, such as a silhouetted boy facing a large digital screen that glitches from its sea shell logo to a red mask image, a heavyset girl with her hair in two buns wearing a teal and red dress standing in a stone coliseum, a smiling old man with a long wispy beard and green goggles who adds spices to a soup bowl, and finally a man in a dark bodysuit with a mechanical backpack, turning around to reveal short dark hair and a black visor around his eyes before he slashes at the camera with an aqua sword from his pack.

They will fathom just how they made us the way we are

A final shot of the main team in action with their emblems behind each member: Franklin leaping up with his railgun ready to fire (a green hexagon with stitches across it), Nuada with her dual daggers slashing outward (a grey crescent moon dagger with three blades), Talutah's spears swiping down below her (a red winged swirling eye), and Moswen swinging into view on his Hiero-Glyph arm (a yellow hand made of bandages in a circle) before he lands with the rest of his friends on the deck of a boat. With his team's encouragement, the Dust reels on Moswen's weapon spin, and he raises it to the sky, calling forth a sandstorm that blasts out from him and envelops everything.

When the sand clears, a triangular red jewel is left behind in a dark void, glimmering as it ends with the white words "based on rooster teeth's RWBY made by MONTY OUM"

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AFTERWORD

And so it officially begins... This was originally posted on June 22, 2022, so despite being much later, I'll still wish a happy birthday to Monty Oum, creator of "RWBY" itself, and hope this does him proud.

I won't the other sites you can me on here - either look in the Wiki Index at the bottom or PM me for those - but I will say that I'm open to commissioning artwork and other services, even Wiki editors and Discord mods, so if anyone's interested in that, let me know!

It might be premature to thank people here when the story is just starting, but I'd like to give a huge shout-out to my friends who helped make this a reality; Alcatraz T patiently heard out all my crazy ideas and provided his own creative , such as the suggestion to make Franklin attack a convoy of trucks rather than a train or a bunch of carriages like I was originally planning, and SO much love goes out to Trinity Johnson for her perfect original lyrics and overall song, which she'll be releasing publicly very soon on her SoundCloud, so get excited!

Further thanks go out to my other IRL friends and family - Love you lots, Grandma... - as well as all the other co-workers who let me link them the original Trailer, if they even got around to OPENING the link.

Oh, and of course, huge thanks to YOU; whoever might be reading this that I don't even know, I appreciate you getting this far through my rambling!

So yeah, see you all in the next chapter, coming next week!

- Carus E. Lumen

(P.S. Good luck trying to figure out all the classic figures that these characters are based on!)

#RWBY

#FeatureWriting