"Here I am, thrown into this hellhole of a world at the whims of a Dark God who wanted me to help him take revenge against his brother for deceiving him about an experiment, though his vague instructions leave a lot to be desired..." The story of a Man and his failing attempts to ignore a Game of Domination between two Gods. He was not prepared.
Refuge In Audacity [RWBY SI]
- Thread starter Guardonion
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Introduction
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Dead Man never imagined his life would become one of those awful Anime's his roommate liked to watch.
But... To be fair he also hadn't imagined his own life ending in one of the same exact 'cliches' that same exact roommate had insisted on lecturing him about despite his insistence that he wasn't interested and he found every word that left his mouth to be very stupid. Of course, the Dead Man would very much regret not paying attention to him... Who knows? It might have even saved him from eating the front bumper of a truck.
It also might have helped him keep calm when he suddenly awoke to find himself in a pure White Horizon filled with nothingness.
Without a body to speak of...
The Dead Man had done what every rational being would have done when confronted with his situation. He'd begun to panic and just make a tour of every stage of grief there was multiple times, rational thought process all but forgotten in favor of a scrambled, incoherent anarchy.
Not that the part of his thoughts that were actually coherent were of much help mind you. With it playing the last moments of his life over and over on repeat with startling clarity, or filling his head with horrible images of a horrible afterlife The Dead Man thought he'd long since stopped believing, or just being a general mess of confusion and fear that gave him no actual way out of the... bind he was in.
Oh, how the Dead Man had wished this was all nothing more than a dream.
He'd known that wasn't the case though, even if he wasn't sure just why he was certain of it, which had just made everything worse.
But his moment of weakness could not last forever, The Man's pride as a person who tried not to be ruled by his emotions and his somewhat successful accomplishments in that field that would lend at least some credit to that claim, meant that even in spite of everything conspiring against him to make it as hard as possible for him, he would eventually be able to wrest back the reigns of his turbulent emotions.
Not that the Universe would ever let the Dead Man have a moment of victory to himself of course, not after his apparent designation as its free-use punching bag. As the White Horizon he'd found himself in suddenly started to bleed what he could only describe as some sort of corrupted, deep purple pus that spread like a cancer until it had covered every inch of what had been a spotless White Horizon...
Then...
It rose.
Bubbling forth from the very pus that had been the harbinger of Its arrival... First a human hand, then an gnarled arm, a twisted body... Before finally an entire body emerged from the corrupted pool of ooze. It didn't take long for the misshapen body started to reshape itself to a more familiar form, with the sound of crackling bones that would haunt the Dead Man's nightmares till the end of his days...
When the Nightmare finally ended, there had been nothing left of the purple pus that had swallowed the Horizon. All that remained was an empty void where there was nothing to focus on but It...
What could he say but that he looked like a shadow? With a humanoid form that was so familiar in it's outline, yet so alien in it's everything else... It had an ethereal purple body that reminded one of a murderous Black Hole, a pair of Ram's horns that jutted out from its hairless head, looking right at home in a demonic face that had the features of one yet did not have them at the same time...
At that moment, the Dead Man wholly believed that he was in hell...
Then it spoke.
"You are alive."
Nothing more than a simple statement from a deep, baritone voice. It sounded calm, collected and yet managed to come off as utterly menacing all the same, with it being accompanied by a whispering echo that was far more terrifying than anything the Dead Man had ever heard. Far more terrifying was a simple wave of Its hands, that had been thus far held at Its back, which immediately saw him regaining his voice despite not having a body.
He could not fathom what he meant by that, surely he must be dead? He was nothing more than a ghost and that was nothing more than a simple speculation done entirely based on his disembodied state.
Unless...
It was all the Dead Man could do to prevent his fear from making its way into his disembodied voice, even if he believed the effort to be futile in the face of the being 'across' from him. "Something to do with you I assume?"
"Yes."
Another simple statement, he had hoped to get some answers at least... The Dead Man chuckled, a hollow sound that rang despite him failing to find any amusement other than some morbid humor that he had landed into such fucking insane situation. "What do you want from me?" Might as well bite the bullet, he was already dead, what's the worse that could happen?
The Faceless Figure tilted Its head.
"You owe a debt to me, I am here to collect it."
The Dead Man didn't know whether to despair or be grateful that he did not have a body to sass the God/Thing in front of him, who was every bit as cryptic as he could imagine. Thankfully, he was smart enough to settle for just playing it safe, and not anger the God/Thing that was standing between him and certain death. "I would love to... But I don't exactly have anything to offer you."
"That is because I have already taken it. Your fate is now in my hands."
"...What?"
"You were to meet a violent end by design," It explained, Its voice finally gaining a tinge of emotion as it 'graciously' explained to him like one would a particularly thick-headed child. "Destined to be cast adrift and be lost for eternity in a Sea of Forgotten Souls had it not been for my timely intervention." It was not above theatrics it seemed, judging by the hand that dramatically came to rest on his chest when he emphasized the word 'my', "Your fate is now mine to shape as I wish, free of any influence."
He knew that was bad that there wasn't a single instance where that could be a good thing. He might not have put stock in things like 'destiny' and 'fate' before... But now? With everything he had seen? He pretty much had proof of Gods and Fate staring him directly in the face, screaming that it was all real and not even giving him the choice to deny what was clearly right in front of him.
"But... Why?"
That... Seemed to have angered it, judging by the way his fists clenched at his sides and the darkness that surrounded them starting to pulsate with sheer anger that made him shrink in fear despite the Dead Man not even having a body-
"Justice." It hissed the word.
"I-I didn't do anythin-
"Not you!" It shouted, Its voice rising with every word It continued to hiss, making the Dead Man shrink ever more so as the dreaded echo whispered of his incoming death at the hands of an angry, ranting God. "You are but a pawn to use against that snake I call a brother, who would go behind my back and disregard our mutual agreement so readily just because of his greed for the attention of lesser beings and the envy that makes Him refuse to believe that I might ever be his equal!" He could feel the God/Thing try to calm Itself.
And visibly fail, as the violent pulsing was only replaced with a low, menacing thrumming as the Dead Man watched with ever-growing horror. "That he would deceive me... His own Brother. Just so he could remove my influence upon that world which was our mutual creation... Even now I feel Him scheming, organizing His wretched attempts to desperately surpass me... I would have my Justice, I would have my Vengeance."
The slow thrumming continued only for a moment, before it was replaced with a small hum of satisfaction that seemed to echo for infinity.
"And I would have you enact it."
His voice had been lost again, although this time it had been for far more different reasons. Thankfully, it didn't find him that long to find it again. "But... Me? What can I do against a God?"
"Nothing."
Joy.
"But my brother's schemes are as bold as they are foolish, and they grow sloppier as time passes. His caution slips as he believes me blind to his treachery... His hubris has blinded him to the fragile nature of those plans, which could all come crumbling down from even the smallest well placed attack..." It would take a moment for the Dead Man to realize that the raspy sound that reverberated around him was an amused chuckle.
"And I am going to be that..?"
Well, it looked like it could always get worse.
"Yes, and I would even reward you for it..." Wha-? "A whole new life, in a different world of endless possibilities, with an entire destiny to be written of your own accord, without no interference aside from just a single objective to fulfill..."
Was there even a choice for him?
"I accept."
"Good,"
"Your objective is to keep the four from becoming one, and deny my brother and I our return to Remnant. Beyond that, you're free to do as you wish."
"Make sure this is our last meeting..."
Another wave of his hand would let darkness claim the Dead Man without him ever getting to respond to the God that had so quickly decided his fate...
When he awoke again, it would be a whole different life awaiting him...
___
Another story where the MC knows he's being Isekai'd yet has no idea where he's going? It has become a certified cliche in my part at this point... Let me know what you think by liking or replying with your criticism, and I hope this becomes another succesful story of mine.
But... To be fair he also hadn't imagined his own life ending in one of the same exact 'cliches' that same exact roommate had insisted on lecturing him about despite his insistence that he wasn't interested and he found every word that left his mouth to be very stupid. Of course, the Dead Man would very much regret not paying attention to him... Who knows? It might have even saved him from eating the front bumper of a truck.
It also might have helped him keep calm when he suddenly awoke to find himself in a pure White Horizon filled with nothingness.
Without a body to speak of...
The Dead Man had done what every rational being would have done when confronted with his situation. He'd begun to panic and just make a tour of every stage of grief there was multiple times, rational thought process all but forgotten in favor of a scrambled, incoherent anarchy.
Not that the part of his thoughts that were actually coherent were of much help mind you. With it playing the last moments of his life over and over on repeat with startling clarity, or filling his head with horrible images of a horrible afterlife The Dead Man thought he'd long since stopped believing, or just being a general mess of confusion and fear that gave him no actual way out of the... bind he was in.
Oh, how the Dead Man had wished this was all nothing more than a dream.
He'd known that wasn't the case though, even if he wasn't sure just why he was certain of it, which had just made everything worse.
But his moment of weakness could not last forever, The Man's pride as a person who tried not to be ruled by his emotions and his somewhat successful accomplishments in that field that would lend at least some credit to that claim, meant that even in spite of everything conspiring against him to make it as hard as possible for him, he would eventually be able to wrest back the reigns of his turbulent emotions.
Not that the Universe would ever let the Dead Man have a moment of victory to himself of course, not after his apparent designation as its free-use punching bag. As the White Horizon he'd found himself in suddenly started to bleed what he could only describe as some sort of corrupted, deep purple pus that spread like a cancer until it had covered every inch of what had been a spotless White Horizon...
Then...
It rose.
Bubbling forth from the very pus that had been the harbinger of Its arrival... First a human hand, then an gnarled arm, a twisted body... Before finally an entire body emerged from the corrupted pool of ooze. It didn't take long for the misshapen body started to reshape itself to a more familiar form, with the sound of crackling bones that would haunt the Dead Man's nightmares till the end of his days...
When the Nightmare finally ended, there had been nothing left of the purple pus that had swallowed the Horizon. All that remained was an empty void where there was nothing to focus on but It...
What could he say but that he looked like a shadow? With a humanoid form that was so familiar in it's outline, yet so alien in it's everything else... It had an ethereal purple body that reminded one of a murderous Black Hole, a pair of Ram's horns that jutted out from its hairless head, looking right at home in a demonic face that had the features of one yet did not have them at the same time...
At that moment, the Dead Man wholly believed that he was in hell...
Then it spoke.
"You are alive."
Nothing more than a simple statement from a deep, baritone voice. It sounded calm, collected and yet managed to come off as utterly menacing all the same, with it being accompanied by a whispering echo that was far more terrifying than anything the Dead Man had ever heard. Far more terrifying was a simple wave of Its hands, that had been thus far held at Its back, which immediately saw him regaining his voice despite not having a body.
He could not fathom what he meant by that, surely he must be dead? He was nothing more than a ghost and that was nothing more than a simple speculation done entirely based on his disembodied state.
Unless...
It was all the Dead Man could do to prevent his fear from making its way into his disembodied voice, even if he believed the effort to be futile in the face of the being 'across' from him. "Something to do with you I assume?"
"Yes."
Another simple statement, he had hoped to get some answers at least... The Dead Man chuckled, a hollow sound that rang despite him failing to find any amusement other than some morbid humor that he had landed into such fucking insane situation. "What do you want from me?" Might as well bite the bullet, he was already dead, what's the worse that could happen?
The Faceless Figure tilted Its head.
"You owe a debt to me, I am here to collect it."
The Dead Man didn't know whether to despair or be grateful that he did not have a body to sass the God/Thing in front of him, who was every bit as cryptic as he could imagine. Thankfully, he was smart enough to settle for just playing it safe, and not anger the God/Thing that was standing between him and certain death. "I would love to... But I don't exactly have anything to offer you."
"That is because I have already taken it. Your fate is now in my hands."
"...What?"
"You were to meet a violent end by design," It explained, Its voice finally gaining a tinge of emotion as it 'graciously' explained to him like one would a particularly thick-headed child. "Destined to be cast adrift and be lost for eternity in a Sea of Forgotten Souls had it not been for my timely intervention." It was not above theatrics it seemed, judging by the hand that dramatically came to rest on his chest when he emphasized the word 'my', "Your fate is now mine to shape as I wish, free of any influence."
He knew that was bad that there wasn't a single instance where that could be a good thing. He might not have put stock in things like 'destiny' and 'fate' before... But now? With everything he had seen? He pretty much had proof of Gods and Fate staring him directly in the face, screaming that it was all real and not even giving him the choice to deny what was clearly right in front of him.
"But... Why?"
That... Seemed to have angered it, judging by the way his fists clenched at his sides and the darkness that surrounded them starting to pulsate with sheer anger that made him shrink in fear despite the Dead Man not even having a body-
"Justice." It hissed the word.
"I-I didn't do anythin-
"Not you!" It shouted, Its voice rising with every word It continued to hiss, making the Dead Man shrink ever more so as the dreaded echo whispered of his incoming death at the hands of an angry, ranting God. "You are but a pawn to use against that snake I call a brother, who would go behind my back and disregard our mutual agreement so readily just because of his greed for the attention of lesser beings and the envy that makes Him refuse to believe that I might ever be his equal!" He could feel the God/Thing try to calm Itself.
And visibly fail, as the violent pulsing was only replaced with a low, menacing thrumming as the Dead Man watched with ever-growing horror. "That he would deceive me... His own Brother. Just so he could remove my influence upon that world which was our mutual creation... Even now I feel Him scheming, organizing His wretched attempts to desperately surpass me... I would have my Justice, I would have my Vengeance."
The slow thrumming continued only for a moment, before it was replaced with a small hum of satisfaction that seemed to echo for infinity.
"And I would have you enact it."
His voice had been lost again, although this time it had been for far more different reasons. Thankfully, it didn't find him that long to find it again. "But... Me? What can I do against a God?"
"Nothing."
Joy.
"But my brother's schemes are as bold as they are foolish, and they grow sloppier as time passes. His caution slips as he believes me blind to his treachery... His hubris has blinded him to the fragile nature of those plans, which could all come crumbling down from even the smallest well placed attack..." It would take a moment for the Dead Man to realize that the raspy sound that reverberated around him was an amused chuckle.
"And I am going to be that..?"
Well, it looked like it could always get worse.
"Yes, and I would even reward you for it..." Wha-? "A whole new life, in a different world of endless possibilities, with an entire destiny to be written of your own accord, without no interference aside from just a single objective to fulfill..."
Was there even a choice for him?
"I accept."
"Good,"
"Your objective is to keep the four from becoming one, and deny my brother and I our return to Remnant. Beyond that, you're free to do as you wish."
"Make sure this is our last meeting..."
Another wave of his hand would let darkness claim the Dead Man without him ever getting to respond to the God that had so quickly decided his fate...
When he awoke again, it would be a whole different life awaiting him...
___
Another story where the MC knows he's being Isekai'd yet has no idea where he's going? It has become a certified cliche in my part at this point... Let me know what you think by liking or replying with your criticism, and I hope this becomes another succesful story of mine.
Chapter 1: Venturing Forth
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A shrill shriek pierced the freezing morning.
It belonged to a woman, one elderly Orphanage Matron who had just opened the door so she could begin her daily morning rituals when she was suddenly greeted with a sight she had been long taught by her mentors to be nothing more than an exaggeration and fabrication. Seen only on movies whose bread and butter was their over-dramatization of every aspect of normal everyday life.
As world-shaking as it was to believe it, they seemed to be entirely false in their assumption. For laying just on the threshold of the door of her orphanage was a hefty basket, carrying an honest-to-goodness baby. Its only protection against the freezing cold was how tightly it was swaddled inside some blankets, and still sleeping despite her previous scream and the freezing cold that affected the old woman even through her numerous layers.
The old woman thanked the Gods for that, she didn't know if her poor heart could handle it if it had started crying.
To her credit, she managed to not only keel over from the shock, but recover from it in a relatively quick manner. She quickly grabbed the basket and carried it inside, shutting the door behind them now that her entire schedule was thrown off by this bizarre turn of events. Believing that it was only a matter of time before the rest of her charges who had likely woken up because of her scream investigated the source of all this commotion, she veered herself and her passenger to a room she had forbidden to them.
She loved them all, really she did. She just couldn't deal with their incessant questioning...
She quickly deposited the basket on the only desk on her study, fretting over the baby for only a minute before scurrying over to the kitchen. She quickly sorted through some cabinets before finding a slip of paper that had the instructions on how to work the fancy machinery that would heat up a fresh batch of milk, which she would need once the baby woke up and inevitably started crying.
That done, she once again hurried off of the kitchen to an adjacent room that served as a dormitory for the only other staff member that worked at the small orphanage. The old Matron sent a prayer to the heavens that the young girl who had been helping her for the duration of her holiday had elected to stay the night once the snow had started to fall, she didn't know just what she would do otherwise if she weren't here.
With no small amount of urgency, she shook the girl awake and explained her the situation and hesitantly asked her to go to the authorities to ask for help in finding the child's parents. She hated to burden the girl so, especially she was there to look out for the beloved children of this poor orphanage just out of the goodness of her heart, but a poor orphanage was one that could not afford such luxuries as scrolls, and hers had apparently been left at home.
Bless her heart, she'd agreed regardless. The Matron had quickly returned to check on the baby after sending her off and bidding her to return quickly, though the fates were not kind enough to spare her another shock.
Because the child had awoken, without making even a slight sound that could alert her, while also managing to break free of the tightly binding blankets and had managed to get free.
That was not the surprise however, as her eyes which had been fixated atop the child's head could attest.
Because it was impossible to miss the second pair of ears jutting out it, this pair being significantly more fluffier than the usual ones that all humans would have...
The old woman did not know whether to laugh or cry that a Faunus baby had been dropped on her doorstep...
__________
The Old Matron had a bad feeling about this.
It didn't help that the still unnamed child was still watching them with those eerily focused eyes of his...
She didn't let them show though, it wouldn't be appropriate to show it in front of the girl, it would make her worry as well and she'd already had far too much to deal with, with having the Matron as her taskmaster and all. "What did they say about him?" The pair of Policeman that had stopped by to take a look at the child had been so kind when they had come through the door, it had been jarring to see them leaving in such a huff after she'd ducked in to smooth over a little scuffle with her other kids.
The girl looked shaken, which did nothing to ease the Matron's worry about what had happened. "Nothing..." Her voice was shaky, it was impossible to miss. "They just took a look at him and left, told me not to bother them 'with thi-'. Um... 'With this' again." Ah... She quickly gave the girl a warm hug, not letting go until she'd stopped shaking and only leaving to get her a cup of warm water before returning.
"Don't mind them darling... People like that are dime a dozen, no use in getting caught up in what they say."
She took the cup of water and gratefully drank from it, setting the cup down before sending a hesitant look at the little child before looking back at the Old Matron like she wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to do it. Her parents' influence no doubt! Oh how she would love to have a few words with them! Did anyone learn nothing from the story of that imbecile Lagune?!
The Matron would settle for encouraging her to speak up. "Do speak up dear, I know you won't let a couple of oafish brutes like that get your tongue!" There, that should do it! That girl could not resist a challenge and it showed.
"Um... A- are you going to send him away?"
That was the easiest option, sending the child off to another orphanage that were specifically for Faunus, always notorious for being rundown places who received paltry amounts of government funding in return for the service they did... She had no doubts that there would be numerous legal hoops she needed to jump through if she was to take in this child, and a whole a lot of previously absent inspections to boot!
Such was the way in Atlas.
Though when was she one for picking the easier option? "Goodness gracious girl! Of course not." She could tell that her tone startled the girl, but a little shock was appropriate when one was learning a lesson. "I have never turned away a child who has entered my home and I don't plan on doing so now." She couldn't even fathom the idea... "Faunus or not, he is my and thus this building's responsibility now."
"But! What about the other kids? And- and he is never going to get adopted!"
She realized that, as grim as it was. "I've taught my kids well, they know not to judge others for things they cannot control, and this wouldn't be the first time I've taken care of a child until he learned to walk out of this building standing on his own feet." Those were always bittersweet moments, but the emotion she felt whenever they told the Old Matron that they had always considered her to be the parent they never had was something she would treasure forever.
"Now... Go along girl, your parents must be missing you." She'd kept the girl long enough, one of the other children could help around the place in her absence. "I'll introduce him to the other children and see you tomorrow, since I'll need to get the kid registered." It was probably going to take her a whole day, but she wasn't one to shy away from hard work, especially when this was one the line.
The girl didn't say anything but a low: "Yes, M'am." before getting up and leaving, the Old Matron waited to turn her attention to the baby still laying on a basket placed on her desk until she'd heard the girl say the last of her goodbyes and leave.
He was still watching her with his eerie gray eyes...
"We have a long road ahead of us little one..." She hummed for a moment, realizing that there hadn't been anything there that would indicate to a name, she was likely going to name him herself. "How about..." Her eyes strayed to the extra pair of floppy, charcoal black ears on his head that likely indicated to the boy being a dog faunus, "...Cole?" Heh... he had actually scrunched up his face, "Too bad... You're keeping it until you're old enough to change it!"
Now to introduce him to the other children...
Experience had taught her that this was going to be the hard part.
__________
'Cole' regretted making that deal...
Waking up as a baby on the steps of an orphanage was traumatic enough, actually having to live through the life of one was even more hellish. It had been no wonder that he'd been considered the fastest developing child in the orphanage with how hard he threw himself at relearning doing everything himself, life as a baby was the worst humiliation his soul had suffered through.
It couldn't have ended fast enough for him, though he wouldn't say life had gotten easier after that, considering his new... Additions, and the nature of this world called Remnant that he'd found himself in.
He was reborn as, to put it simply, a 'faunus'. Distinguishable from the members of the regular human race by having the trait of a random animal, like possessing a tail or having an extra set of ears. It happened to be the latter in 'Cole's' case, a pair of dog ears situated right on top of his head that operated as the normal pair he still was in possession of would, though in this case it heightened his ability to hear by being another pair to help with that function, aside from them being dog ears, which were better than human ones.
They were also pretty sensitive, which was just... degrading.
Those weren't the only things that came with being a faunus however, aside from giving one some... weird cravings he meant, because 'Cole' also had night-vision, like... Supernaturally so.
But these also happened to be far more trouble than they were worth.
Because the far more numerous humans happened to be racist against something that was different from them.
What a fucking shocker am I right..?
That wasn't all, because he had just so happened to fall into the second most racist place in this goddamn hellhole!
It was impossible for him to not have noticed it, even with it being inadvisable to go outside of the orphanage alone without at least hiding his ears. Which was hey, fine by him... 'Cole' wouldn't want make the lives of the kids he lived with harder than they already were by letting them be seen making friends with an 'animal', there was enough of a stigma against orphans already, and they were innocent kids who treated him well despite the world telling him 'Cole' was garbage.
But his attempts to hide were intolerable for Gwen the Old Matron, who as kind as she was, happened to be too naive to understand how this world seem to work. The simple cap he hid his ears in seemed to disappear whenever she was around, and his tendency to be pulled around increased significantly despite his futile struggles, normal people in the street were always so quick to interrupt their little procession behind the Matron whenever she took them on a trip to tell her that she had a stray that got 'caught up in the mix'
It had eventually gotten so infuriating having to watch the kindly woman he'd gotten so fond of get degraded by bigoted assholes whenever she had to explain to them that he was one of hers, he had forsworn going on those trips altogether until the Matron let him wear his cap, she hadn't accepted, but he hadn't been able to keep his promise also. Bless their hearts, the kids in his orphanage were growing up to be good people and had always helped him hide away and stood up for him whenever someone made to push him around, despite him acting as their bigger brother most of the time.
The ears also seemed to be a deal-breaker for people looking to adopt, though he'd gotten over that quickly.
Though it was always hard seeing the little brothers and sisters he'd made in disappear one by one...
__________
Remnant...
The world he had been sent to by the God of Darkness, to foil the plans made by his brother the God of Light. 'Cole' hadn't managed to make heads or tails about the task he'd been given, and he was uncertain if he should ever try to do what that... Thing had asked of him, and Mythology always seemed to paint a clear picture when it came to gods, especially ones with such self-explanatory names.
Hadn't the God of Darkness created the Grimm? The blight upon this world, an unending tide of monsters that came in all shapes and sizes and wanted to slaughter every living human and faunus in this world? Those which had forced these races down a path of extinction only staved off by warriors trained from the earliest moment of their childhood called Huntsman?
Didn't the God of Light mean well when he wanted to exorcise his brother's influence upon this world, by any means necessary? To make Mankind (a term used loosely to define both Faunus and Humans together) push forth from just the four strongholds it had been forced into during its unending struggle for survival? Why should he aid in the destruction of that seemingly noble goal?
That they had somehow managed to make peace in creating the humans was obviously a falsehood, because the God of Darkness seemed very focused on his brothers' betrayal...
Was he really prepared to end a whole world just because he got to live another life?
No.
Was he sure he wanted to break that deal, a deal made in exchange of his soul, no matter how unwilling?
Yes.
Then all he needed to do was live his new life to the fullest until the God of Darkness and he met again. There really wasn't any point in thinking about this matter further was there?
Maybe he could become a Huntsman..? That would be one way to do it, and he certainly was old enough to start doing so!
What a way to be alive.
__________
White Fang.
When the anger he felt from dealing with all the things world threw at him became too much to bear, they would always be his escape. A little Beacon of Hope that reminded him how the world could be better if people tried to make it so, that he was witnessing one of those historical moments and it was only starting to happen, but things would get better at the end!
He'd volunteered to help them whenever he could, joined protests whenever he had the free time from his extensive training. There had even been a time where he had to help care for a man who had escaped from one of SDC's mines. It had been those days that had made him feel like he was at his highest, that he was participating in the shaping of the future.
Those were the times where he felt like Cole, instead of 'Cole'.
But then things started worsen right as he neared the age of entering a Huntsman Academy. The once absent Schnee Dust Company boogeyman, whom he had been told worked Faunus to death in a system akin to the slavery from the old days, stuck them in work pens that were nothing more than chattels for them to work and die in, and continued to rake in billions of Lien from their blood money while paying them little more than a pittance, it had finally noticed their rebellion.
And it was displeased...
They cracked down with the help of the law, thoroughly corrupt at the hands of one of the most important man on Remnant, Jacques Schnee. Protests started being forcefully dispersed, strikes were broken through violent means, faunus were arrested for handing out flyers, there were random searches on the road for anyone who happened to be 'involved in suspicious activities'.
He had been forced to cease participating in their events by the retired Huntsman (a non-racist one that was willing to accept all of his live savings and more for his services) that had been mentoring him when things had started to get too hot. He had only done so begrudgingly, all too aware that even a strike on his record could mean the end of his dreams as a Huntsman with how this system was.
Then... It had happened.
The White Fang started to fight back.
Only, they started to go further. Graffiti became vandalism and unexplained arson, Self-defense against strike-breakers quickly became factory sabotage, the 'Underground Railroad' turned into attacking work camps, protests turned into brawls whenever the police got involved. It had gotten so bad that at some point he'd been afraid to go outside for fear of being arrested.
Then... It got worse.
SDC personnel, some of which were nothing more than simple employees started, to end up in the ditches. Politicians ended up getting murdered for racism. Until it eventually spiraled so out of control that these attacks once surely considered 'noble' turned into little more than bloodbaths meant to send a message, to frighten the humans and start another war.
'Cole's' hopes had been shattered along with his respect for what the White Fang used to stand for.
Then he made a decision, a decision that he was sure he could be proud of once he forced it upon himself.
__________
"I am here to enlist."
The Recruiter looked at the extra pair of ears sitting on top of his head, his face carrying that all too familiar expression of suspicion and distrust toward his attentions. For once, he could not blame them, which only made him angrier. The Officer sighed and looked him straight in his eyes, and the Once Dead Man did his best to show how resolute was in his choice.
"Why?"
"To show the world you don't need to be a terrorist to make a difference."
The man seemed impressed with the conviction that was in his tone, because the suspicion in his eyes started to lift a bit as he looked him up and down.
"You are aware that you will have to go through an audit, to be certain of your intentions and your loyalty to the people of Atlas?"
'Cole' nodded, one last time. "Yes,"
The Recruiter actually let out a small bark of laughter at that, before finally getting it under control. "You have balls kid, you got a name?"
He had one for a couple of hours actually, after seventeen years of using a fake one. "Iskander Opilio."
"Alright..." The man nodded as he jotted his name down, "I'm not supposed to say this until you're done, but I am optimistic about your chances and we might not meet again, so might as well!"
"Welcome to the Atlasian Army, kid. Hope you like your stay..."
_________
This chapter just... flew out once I sat down.
I hope you guys like what you read, if you did you can show me your appreciation by liking and commenting your criticism down as a reply so that I may improve myself. Have a good day everyone!
It belonged to a woman, one elderly Orphanage Matron who had just opened the door so she could begin her daily morning rituals when she was suddenly greeted with a sight she had been long taught by her mentors to be nothing more than an exaggeration and fabrication. Seen only on movies whose bread and butter was their over-dramatization of every aspect of normal everyday life.
As world-shaking as it was to believe it, they seemed to be entirely false in their assumption. For laying just on the threshold of the door of her orphanage was a hefty basket, carrying an honest-to-goodness baby. Its only protection against the freezing cold was how tightly it was swaddled inside some blankets, and still sleeping despite her previous scream and the freezing cold that affected the old woman even through her numerous layers.
The old woman thanked the Gods for that, she didn't know if her poor heart could handle it if it had started crying.
To her credit, she managed to not only keel over from the shock, but recover from it in a relatively quick manner. She quickly grabbed the basket and carried it inside, shutting the door behind them now that her entire schedule was thrown off by this bizarre turn of events. Believing that it was only a matter of time before the rest of her charges who had likely woken up because of her scream investigated the source of all this commotion, she veered herself and her passenger to a room she had forbidden to them.
She loved them all, really she did. She just couldn't deal with their incessant questioning...
She quickly deposited the basket on the only desk on her study, fretting over the baby for only a minute before scurrying over to the kitchen. She quickly sorted through some cabinets before finding a slip of paper that had the instructions on how to work the fancy machinery that would heat up a fresh batch of milk, which she would need once the baby woke up and inevitably started crying.
That done, she once again hurried off of the kitchen to an adjacent room that served as a dormitory for the only other staff member that worked at the small orphanage. The old Matron sent a prayer to the heavens that the young girl who had been helping her for the duration of her holiday had elected to stay the night once the snow had started to fall, she didn't know just what she would do otherwise if she weren't here.
With no small amount of urgency, she shook the girl awake and explained her the situation and hesitantly asked her to go to the authorities to ask for help in finding the child's parents. She hated to burden the girl so, especially she was there to look out for the beloved children of this poor orphanage just out of the goodness of her heart, but a poor orphanage was one that could not afford such luxuries as scrolls, and hers had apparently been left at home.
Bless her heart, she'd agreed regardless. The Matron had quickly returned to check on the baby after sending her off and bidding her to return quickly, though the fates were not kind enough to spare her another shock.
Because the child had awoken, without making even a slight sound that could alert her, while also managing to break free of the tightly binding blankets and had managed to get free.
That was not the surprise however, as her eyes which had been fixated atop the child's head could attest.
Because it was impossible to miss the second pair of ears jutting out it, this pair being significantly more fluffier than the usual ones that all humans would have...
The old woman did not know whether to laugh or cry that a Faunus baby had been dropped on her doorstep...
__________
The Old Matron had a bad feeling about this.
It didn't help that the still unnamed child was still watching them with those eerily focused eyes of his...
She didn't let them show though, it wouldn't be appropriate to show it in front of the girl, it would make her worry as well and she'd already had far too much to deal with, with having the Matron as her taskmaster and all. "What did they say about him?" The pair of Policeman that had stopped by to take a look at the child had been so kind when they had come through the door, it had been jarring to see them leaving in such a huff after she'd ducked in to smooth over a little scuffle with her other kids.
The girl looked shaken, which did nothing to ease the Matron's worry about what had happened. "Nothing..." Her voice was shaky, it was impossible to miss. "They just took a look at him and left, told me not to bother them 'with thi-'. Um... 'With this' again." Ah... She quickly gave the girl a warm hug, not letting go until she'd stopped shaking and only leaving to get her a cup of warm water before returning.
"Don't mind them darling... People like that are dime a dozen, no use in getting caught up in what they say."
She took the cup of water and gratefully drank from it, setting the cup down before sending a hesitant look at the little child before looking back at the Old Matron like she wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to do it. Her parents' influence no doubt! Oh how she would love to have a few words with them! Did anyone learn nothing from the story of that imbecile Lagune?!
The Matron would settle for encouraging her to speak up. "Do speak up dear, I know you won't let a couple of oafish brutes like that get your tongue!" There, that should do it! That girl could not resist a challenge and it showed.
"Um... A- are you going to send him away?"
That was the easiest option, sending the child off to another orphanage that were specifically for Faunus, always notorious for being rundown places who received paltry amounts of government funding in return for the service they did... She had no doubts that there would be numerous legal hoops she needed to jump through if she was to take in this child, and a whole a lot of previously absent inspections to boot!
Such was the way in Atlas.
Though when was she one for picking the easier option? "Goodness gracious girl! Of course not." She could tell that her tone startled the girl, but a little shock was appropriate when one was learning a lesson. "I have never turned away a child who has entered my home and I don't plan on doing so now." She couldn't even fathom the idea... "Faunus or not, he is my and thus this building's responsibility now."
"But! What about the other kids? And- and he is never going to get adopted!"
She realized that, as grim as it was. "I've taught my kids well, they know not to judge others for things they cannot control, and this wouldn't be the first time I've taken care of a child until he learned to walk out of this building standing on his own feet." Those were always bittersweet moments, but the emotion she felt whenever they told the Old Matron that they had always considered her to be the parent they never had was something she would treasure forever.
"Now... Go along girl, your parents must be missing you." She'd kept the girl long enough, one of the other children could help around the place in her absence. "I'll introduce him to the other children and see you tomorrow, since I'll need to get the kid registered." It was probably going to take her a whole day, but she wasn't one to shy away from hard work, especially when this was one the line.
The girl didn't say anything but a low: "Yes, M'am." before getting up and leaving, the Old Matron waited to turn her attention to the baby still laying on a basket placed on her desk until she'd heard the girl say the last of her goodbyes and leave.
He was still watching her with his eerie gray eyes...
"We have a long road ahead of us little one..." She hummed for a moment, realizing that there hadn't been anything there that would indicate to a name, she was likely going to name him herself. "How about..." Her eyes strayed to the extra pair of floppy, charcoal black ears on his head that likely indicated to the boy being a dog faunus, "...Cole?" Heh... he had actually scrunched up his face, "Too bad... You're keeping it until you're old enough to change it!"
Now to introduce him to the other children...
Experience had taught her that this was going to be the hard part.
__________
'Cole' regretted making that deal...
Waking up as a baby on the steps of an orphanage was traumatic enough, actually having to live through the life of one was even more hellish. It had been no wonder that he'd been considered the fastest developing child in the orphanage with how hard he threw himself at relearning doing everything himself, life as a baby was the worst humiliation his soul had suffered through.
It couldn't have ended fast enough for him, though he wouldn't say life had gotten easier after that, considering his new... Additions, and the nature of this world called Remnant that he'd found himself in.
He was reborn as, to put it simply, a 'faunus'. Distinguishable from the members of the regular human race by having the trait of a random animal, like possessing a tail or having an extra set of ears. It happened to be the latter in 'Cole's' case, a pair of dog ears situated right on top of his head that operated as the normal pair he still was in possession of would, though in this case it heightened his ability to hear by being another pair to help with that function, aside from them being dog ears, which were better than human ones.
They were also pretty sensitive, which was just... degrading.
Those weren't the only things that came with being a faunus however, aside from giving one some... weird cravings he meant, because 'Cole' also had night-vision, like... Supernaturally so.
But these also happened to be far more trouble than they were worth.
Because the far more numerous humans happened to be racist against something that was different from them.
What a fucking shocker am I right..?
That wasn't all, because he had just so happened to fall into the second most racist place in this goddamn hellhole!
It was impossible for him to not have noticed it, even with it being inadvisable to go outside of the orphanage alone without at least hiding his ears. Which was hey, fine by him... 'Cole' wouldn't want make the lives of the kids he lived with harder than they already were by letting them be seen making friends with an 'animal', there was enough of a stigma against orphans already, and they were innocent kids who treated him well despite the world telling him 'Cole' was garbage.
But his attempts to hide were intolerable for Gwen the Old Matron, who as kind as she was, happened to be too naive to understand how this world seem to work. The simple cap he hid his ears in seemed to disappear whenever she was around, and his tendency to be pulled around increased significantly despite his futile struggles, normal people in the street were always so quick to interrupt their little procession behind the Matron whenever she took them on a trip to tell her that she had a stray that got 'caught up in the mix'
It had eventually gotten so infuriating having to watch the kindly woman he'd gotten so fond of get degraded by bigoted assholes whenever she had to explain to them that he was one of hers, he had forsworn going on those trips altogether until the Matron let him wear his cap, she hadn't accepted, but he hadn't been able to keep his promise also. Bless their hearts, the kids in his orphanage were growing up to be good people and had always helped him hide away and stood up for him whenever someone made to push him around, despite him acting as their bigger brother most of the time.
The ears also seemed to be a deal-breaker for people looking to adopt, though he'd gotten over that quickly.
Though it was always hard seeing the little brothers and sisters he'd made in disappear one by one...
__________
Remnant...
The world he had been sent to by the God of Darkness, to foil the plans made by his brother the God of Light. 'Cole' hadn't managed to make heads or tails about the task he'd been given, and he was uncertain if he should ever try to do what that... Thing had asked of him, and Mythology always seemed to paint a clear picture when it came to gods, especially ones with such self-explanatory names.
Hadn't the God of Darkness created the Grimm? The blight upon this world, an unending tide of monsters that came in all shapes and sizes and wanted to slaughter every living human and faunus in this world? Those which had forced these races down a path of extinction only staved off by warriors trained from the earliest moment of their childhood called Huntsman?
Didn't the God of Light mean well when he wanted to exorcise his brother's influence upon this world, by any means necessary? To make Mankind (a term used loosely to define both Faunus and Humans together) push forth from just the four strongholds it had been forced into during its unending struggle for survival? Why should he aid in the destruction of that seemingly noble goal?
That they had somehow managed to make peace in creating the humans was obviously a falsehood, because the God of Darkness seemed very focused on his brothers' betrayal...
Was he really prepared to end a whole world just because he got to live another life?
No.
Was he sure he wanted to break that deal, a deal made in exchange of his soul, no matter how unwilling?
Yes.
Then all he needed to do was live his new life to the fullest until the God of Darkness and he met again. There really wasn't any point in thinking about this matter further was there?
Maybe he could become a Huntsman..? That would be one way to do it, and he certainly was old enough to start doing so!
What a way to be alive.
__________
White Fang.
When the anger he felt from dealing with all the things world threw at him became too much to bear, they would always be his escape. A little Beacon of Hope that reminded him how the world could be better if people tried to make it so, that he was witnessing one of those historical moments and it was only starting to happen, but things would get better at the end!
He'd volunteered to help them whenever he could, joined protests whenever he had the free time from his extensive training. There had even been a time where he had to help care for a man who had escaped from one of SDC's mines. It had been those days that had made him feel like he was at his highest, that he was participating in the shaping of the future.
Those were the times where he felt like Cole, instead of 'Cole'.
But then things started worsen right as he neared the age of entering a Huntsman Academy. The once absent Schnee Dust Company boogeyman, whom he had been told worked Faunus to death in a system akin to the slavery from the old days, stuck them in work pens that were nothing more than chattels for them to work and die in, and continued to rake in billions of Lien from their blood money while paying them little more than a pittance, it had finally noticed their rebellion.
And it was displeased...
They cracked down with the help of the law, thoroughly corrupt at the hands of one of the most important man on Remnant, Jacques Schnee. Protests started being forcefully dispersed, strikes were broken through violent means, faunus were arrested for handing out flyers, there were random searches on the road for anyone who happened to be 'involved in suspicious activities'.
He had been forced to cease participating in their events by the retired Huntsman (a non-racist one that was willing to accept all of his live savings and more for his services) that had been mentoring him when things had started to get too hot. He had only done so begrudgingly, all too aware that even a strike on his record could mean the end of his dreams as a Huntsman with how this system was.
Then... It had happened.
The White Fang started to fight back.
Only, they started to go further. Graffiti became vandalism and unexplained arson, Self-defense against strike-breakers quickly became factory sabotage, the 'Underground Railroad' turned into attacking work camps, protests turned into brawls whenever the police got involved. It had gotten so bad that at some point he'd been afraid to go outside for fear of being arrested.
Then... It got worse.
SDC personnel, some of which were nothing more than simple employees started, to end up in the ditches. Politicians ended up getting murdered for racism. Until it eventually spiraled so out of control that these attacks once surely considered 'noble' turned into little more than bloodbaths meant to send a message, to frighten the humans and start another war.
'Cole's' hopes had been shattered along with his respect for what the White Fang used to stand for.
Then he made a decision, a decision that he was sure he could be proud of once he forced it upon himself.
__________
"I am here to enlist."
The Recruiter looked at the extra pair of ears sitting on top of his head, his face carrying that all too familiar expression of suspicion and distrust toward his attentions. For once, he could not blame them, which only made him angrier. The Officer sighed and looked him straight in his eyes, and the Once Dead Man did his best to show how resolute was in his choice.
"Why?"
"To show the world you don't need to be a terrorist to make a difference."
The man seemed impressed with the conviction that was in his tone, because the suspicion in his eyes started to lift a bit as he looked him up and down.
"You are aware that you will have to go through an audit, to be certain of your intentions and your loyalty to the people of Atlas?"
'Cole' nodded, one last time. "Yes,"
The Recruiter actually let out a small bark of laughter at that, before finally getting it under control. "You have balls kid, you got a name?"
He had one for a couple of hours actually, after seventeen years of using a fake one. "Iskander Opilio."
"Alright..." The man nodded as he jotted his name down, "I'm not supposed to say this until you're done, but I am optimistic about your chances and we might not meet again, so might as well!"
"Welcome to the Atlasian Army, kid. Hope you like your stay..."
_________
This chapter just... flew out once I sat down.
I hope you guys like what you read, if you did you can show me your appreciation by liking and commenting your criticism down as a reply so that I may improve myself. Have a good day everyone!
- Location
- South Carolina
You're in the army now. Oh, oh, you're in the army now!
Cant wait to see what happens next!
Cant wait to see what happens next!
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Definitely interesting...
wonder if he will become a specialist working with a certain white haired girl and change some opinions on faunus for a little sister.
wonder if he will become a specialist working with a certain white haired girl and change some opinions on faunus for a little sister.
- Location
- Australia
That's a first, i don't think there is any fic that has the mc going into the Atlesian army.
- Location
- California
I feel like you're going to be dishonorable discharged from the Armed Services for reasons beyond your control, Gods of Darkness or otherwise.
- Location
- Australia
I feel like this should be Atlesian army, like when referring to atlesian paladins or airships. Or the Atlas army which is what people refer ro it as.
You don't have to change it but there is something off about it.
Chapter 2: Humble Beginnings
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[Warning: You know how our character is a Faunus? Yeah... People are really stuck on that detail for some reason, hint hint]
Military Investigations Agent Reed Freimann, thanked the Gods for giving them AC as he leaned back on his comfortable chair and reveled in the warm blast of air that caressed his face. He stayed that way until he heard the door open and saw his colleague walk in with a stack of files tucked underneath his arm, while his hands carried a pair of warm coffee cups that had his mouth watering just by seeing the steam wafting off of them.
He profusely thanked his friend with the same reverence as he had moments before for the AC, while his fellow Agent, Hawke Geller snickered at his partner's excessive gratitude while handing him one of the cups and sat down across from him. They both shared basked in their comfortableness for just a moment before one of them finally broke it with a sorrowful sigh and prompted the other to get ready for business.
It was not a particularly exciting job, seeing as all they were doing was looking through the respective profiles and audits of army enlistees with the more... unique backgrounds and deciding on which of those enlistments were going to actually go forward and join and which of those were going to be left in the dust. The latter would also find themselves in a watchlist, to ensure that they would not cause trouble if the news of their rejection hit them especially hard.
This year had brought in the biggest batch of possible 'problem recruits' either of them had ever seen, though the processing part was passing pretty quickly regardless seeing as there were practically one in five useful ones amongst the bunch of them, and they had been ordered to look for quality over quantity. The ones that took more than five minutes were especially rare, and both men were rather proud that they were getting through such a time-consuming job in such a decisive and hasty manner.
Until...
"Here we have an... Iskander Opilio? What kind of name is that?"
Hawke looked over his notes for a moment, before shrugging. "Some local pronunciation of Alexander, the last name is from one of those old dead languages no one bothers learning about." He turned his attentions back to his notes, though not before saying: "I wouldn't get caught up in his name though, that isn't even close to the most interesting thing on that file."
Reed was quick to focus his attention back in the file, searching for the bit of information his friend had eluded to.
He found it quickly with just a small glance at his picture.
A tall boy with a clean, angular face, gazing up at him with unnerving gray eyes.
And a pair of extra pair ears, canine from the looks of them, jutting out from his head, his long head of hair doing nothing to hide them.
"Bloody hell..."
Hawke let out a mirthless chuckle, all to aware of what his friend just noticed. "Yeah... Keep reading, it gets even better."
So, overtaken by a morbid sense of curiosity, Reed did so; discovering that 'Iskander Opilio', formerly 'Cole Shepard' as of a week ago, was going to be the cause of his biggest headache yet. A faunus orphan left at the steps of the 'Shepard's Own Orphanage' as a baby, taken in by the Matron and raised there until his seventeenth birthday where he had decided to enlist despite his nature as a faunus and despite his enlistment having a chance of being misconstrued as espionage.
It didn't end there. 'Iskander', his fellow orphans, the Matron, and even his Huntsman Tutor had gone to great lengths about the boy's relation to the White Fang before they had turned terrorist when questioned by the investigators. And yes, the boy had been training to become a Huntsman before abruptly changing his mind and enlisting into the military, which had brought out some very choice word out of everyone that had been questioned, aside from the aforementioned boy himself.
Despite everyone swearing up and down about the boy's intentions being noble, and that he had severed his ties with the White Fang after they had started their attacks, Reed could and would believe it if someone were to come to him and tell him that the boy was there as a spy, even if he was slightly inclined to take the witnesses at their word despite his own personal distaste toward the boy's kind.
What a fucking mess...
He finally tore his eyes off of the profiled and turned to Hawke. "You have a verdict?"
His old friend scoffed, "Besides the red stamp you mean?" It would save them the trouble, and the headache... But, he shook his head in a negative, gesturing for him to continue. "He has huntsman training, enough to graduate from a combat school and have a high chance of entering Atlas, that alone would have been enough to shoehorn him into the Specialists if he weren't a faunus."
He rose a brow, "That is high praise." His tone was skeptical.
"You know what Huntsman are capable of, even as trainees," His friend said with a roll of his eyes. "His tutor has nothing but praise for him, and that's something rare in the hired ones." There was some rustling as he sorted through some papers before extending him a paper, "And he's not the only one, that's a list of his grades from childhood, take a look." Huh... That was a smart kid.
"He's clearly an asset, one that could be very useful in Atlas' hands."
He thought about it, scratching his chin before asking that one important question. "What about him being a potential spy?"
Hawke looked away for a moment, clearly in deep thought. When he spoke, it was slow like he was still thinking during the action. "We don't have any proof that he and his people gave false testimonies regarding the White Fang, and have plenty of proof that they were telling the truth. Besides..." He gestured over to the contract that had the boy's signature on it, which gave the state permission to constantly monitor his every move should he be accepted into the army, until such a time came that his loyalties were undeniably proven.
Hawke continued, "Failing that... There is almost certainly going to be an Agent planted in his class anyway, he is too high profile to be left with just a single monitor."
Reed, who had been mollified up to the point his friend mentioned that, objected with a another raised brow. "And who would be able to stop a Huntsman trainee if he decides to escape with valuable information?"
"Be smart," Hawke chastised, before leaning back on his chair... "And I was thinking... Grom."
"That old coot?" Reed asked, appalled. "Oh, I'm starting to pity his class already."
Hawke chuckled, which quickly turned into a yawn as his tiredness started to take its toll on him after long hours of work. "So, we are giving the boy a chance?"
Reed sighed, "Against my better judgement, I vote yes."
Hawke nodded, and pressed the proverbial green stamp on the boy's file.
Iskander's day had not started out great.
That could go for a lot of his future comrades actually, who had just started their first day in hell by being woken before the sun was even up by shouting Drill Instructors that Iskander believed to have vocal cords made out of iron.
They had shepherded them to a field and run them through a calisthenics routine straight out his nightmares, strangely making him thankful for all those years he'd spent under his tutor drilling him in the harsh training regimen of a Huntsman, otherwise his life might have just turned into hell judging by how his fellow recruits were faring compared to him.
And that was with him being repeatedly singled out for mistakes he had not made.
For obvious reasons.
Then when that was all said and done, they had brought them to fucking Satan.
"ALRIGHT BOYS!" The Drill Sergeant roared as he paced up and down the formation of recruits, disregarding the indignant faces of several women also present entirely and continuing his shouting. "I am Sergeant Grom, you'll either call Sir or you'll find yourself thrown out of my fucking camp posthaste! I was called out of retirement to help turn you bunch of sorry ingrates into proper Atlesians she can be proud of!"
He stopped for a moment, his eyes roaming through the entire formation before he pitched his voice once again. "And you'll deliver or by the gods I'll make sure you spend your time here stuck inside the deepest latrine I can find, IS THAT FUCKING UNDERSTOOD?!"
"Sir, yes sir!"
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, LOUDER YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"
"SIR, YES SIR!"
The first one had been nothing more than a scattered exclamation, the second one was a roar just a few decibels short of the Sergeants own, not that the feat was lessened by that seeing as Iskander was pretty sure they could hear them all the way from Mantle. The aforementioned Sergeant didn't seem impressed however, but he resumed his pacing and gazing at each recruit as if he was planning on eating them alive.
"You at least learn fast, which is far more than I can say for the whoresons they tried to foist on me last time I accepted this job..." The man grumbled loudly, which seemed to be his default mode of communication. He continued his pacing for a few minutes, looking at each recruit and mumbling something that only they could hear (and didn't seem to appreciate) before moving onto another one.
Until finally, he came to a stop in front of Iskander.
Here we go again...
Sergeant Grom's eyes bore into his, only slightly darting to his obvious ears that stood out even more than usual because of the buzz-cut, (He'd already missed having it long, Atlas was cold.) before focusing on the only faunus in the entire formation. The rather-newly christened Iskander could not make out what the Old Sergeant was thinking from the look in his eyes, but he wouldn't deny that he had a pretty good guess.
Though his next words were a surprise. "You'll listen to my orders, do as you're told, show basic competence, be loyal to Atlas and her people and you might just become that! A Proper Atlesian!" He finally broke eye contact, having said that out loud to for everyone to hear and pitching his voice once again to go for another round of his shouting. "That goes for all of you bastards! It doesn't matter if you have another pair of ears, a tail or lack a fucking dick, you're all brothers in this Army!"
Someone actually chuckled in the back, which made everyone freeze for a moment as they looked in horror at the Sergeant who had certainly heard it. But all tension seemed to dissipate as the man actually started laughing himself, prompting others to tentatively join in on the merriment. Even Iskander laughed, though his was nothing more than an unenthusiastic chuckle that quickly petered off.
Good for him too, because he could see Sergeant Grom's expression turn sour so rapidly that the man might have just broken a record. "ENOUGH!" His roar also managed to break a record in how loud he could be, as it startled everyone to attention. "I believe that's about enough laughter for the duration of your stay here!" The man bit out viciously, seemingly taking a moment to revel in everyone's terror before pointing at the hill that overlooked the unusual gathering place they'd been marched to after going through the basic exercises that had not prepared them for Grom.
"I'll leave you off easy for today... Complete this track before three hours sharp and I don't make you get acquainted with those latrines before lunch..." A beat passed, with everyone dumbly starting at the Instructor. "What are you waiting for?! GO, GO, GO!" The tinnitus inducing scream was enough to jolt everyone out of their shock, as everyone started their run toward salvation from toilet-cleaning duty.
Except Iskander, who had tripped immediately upon trying to take a simple step.
On someone's foot.
Before he could rise to his feet and catch up to the others, a boot pressed down on his back to stop him, no doubt leaning a very fine print on his grey uniform. "Did I tell you that you could lie down Mutt?" And there it was... The exact sort of attention he'd been hoping to avoid but was failing spectacularly at...
"Sir, no sir." He said as he tried again, this time finding himself pushed further.
The Sergeant's voice was deceptively soft when he continued, "I don't think that you'll mind giving me a twenty since you're already on the ground? Isn't that so, Recruit?"
He bit out a curt: "Sir, yes sir." Before starting the push-ups with the weight of the Sergeant's boot still weighing him down. Though he refrained from telling the man that it was still there, Iskander very much doubted he would care all that much even if he were to bother...
There was no doubt in his mind that he was sending his Tutor a thank you card after this day, because he'd managed to finish those push-ups in a relatively timely manner before starting down the track. He even finished the track on time, and actually managed to pass some people along the way, if only barely. The disbelieving look in their eyes when they realized that they would be stuck cleaning toilets while would rest brought him no end of satisfaction, even as he lay in a heap of exhaustion.
Iskander chose not to dwell on the contemplative look that he'd caught Sergeant Grom giving him, not willing to delve deep on just what kind of punishments the Old Man he was planning for him.
He'd survived, and was now one step closer to his goal.
That was all that mattered...
For now.
____
Boy, do I seem obsessed with this story...
Do tell me if I got the Boot Camp bits wrong btw, I am always open to criticism from you guys as it helps me better my writing.
Military Investigations Agent Reed Freimann, thanked the Gods for giving them AC as he leaned back on his comfortable chair and reveled in the warm blast of air that caressed his face. He stayed that way until he heard the door open and saw his colleague walk in with a stack of files tucked underneath his arm, while his hands carried a pair of warm coffee cups that had his mouth watering just by seeing the steam wafting off of them.
He profusely thanked his friend with the same reverence as he had moments before for the AC, while his fellow Agent, Hawke Geller snickered at his partner's excessive gratitude while handing him one of the cups and sat down across from him. They both shared basked in their comfortableness for just a moment before one of them finally broke it with a sorrowful sigh and prompted the other to get ready for business.
It was not a particularly exciting job, seeing as all they were doing was looking through the respective profiles and audits of army enlistees with the more... unique backgrounds and deciding on which of those enlistments were going to actually go forward and join and which of those were going to be left in the dust. The latter would also find themselves in a watchlist, to ensure that they would not cause trouble if the news of their rejection hit them especially hard.
This year had brought in the biggest batch of possible 'problem recruits' either of them had ever seen, though the processing part was passing pretty quickly regardless seeing as there were practically one in five useful ones amongst the bunch of them, and they had been ordered to look for quality over quantity. The ones that took more than five minutes were especially rare, and both men were rather proud that they were getting through such a time-consuming job in such a decisive and hasty manner.
Until...
"Here we have an... Iskander Opilio? What kind of name is that?"
Hawke looked over his notes for a moment, before shrugging. "Some local pronunciation of Alexander, the last name is from one of those old dead languages no one bothers learning about." He turned his attentions back to his notes, though not before saying: "I wouldn't get caught up in his name though, that isn't even close to the most interesting thing on that file."
Reed was quick to focus his attention back in the file, searching for the bit of information his friend had eluded to.
He found it quickly with just a small glance at his picture.
A tall boy with a clean, angular face, gazing up at him with unnerving gray eyes.
And a pair of extra pair ears, canine from the looks of them, jutting out from his head, his long head of hair doing nothing to hide them.
"Bloody hell..."
Hawke let out a mirthless chuckle, all to aware of what his friend just noticed. "Yeah... Keep reading, it gets even better."
So, overtaken by a morbid sense of curiosity, Reed did so; discovering that 'Iskander Opilio', formerly 'Cole Shepard' as of a week ago, was going to be the cause of his biggest headache yet. A faunus orphan left at the steps of the 'Shepard's Own Orphanage' as a baby, taken in by the Matron and raised there until his seventeenth birthday where he had decided to enlist despite his nature as a faunus and despite his enlistment having a chance of being misconstrued as espionage.
It didn't end there. 'Iskander', his fellow orphans, the Matron, and even his Huntsman Tutor had gone to great lengths about the boy's relation to the White Fang before they had turned terrorist when questioned by the investigators. And yes, the boy had been training to become a Huntsman before abruptly changing his mind and enlisting into the military, which had brought out some very choice word out of everyone that had been questioned, aside from the aforementioned boy himself.
Despite everyone swearing up and down about the boy's intentions being noble, and that he had severed his ties with the White Fang after they had started their attacks, Reed could and would believe it if someone were to come to him and tell him that the boy was there as a spy, even if he was slightly inclined to take the witnesses at their word despite his own personal distaste toward the boy's kind.
What a fucking mess...
He finally tore his eyes off of the profiled and turned to Hawke. "You have a verdict?"
His old friend scoffed, "Besides the red stamp you mean?" It would save them the trouble, and the headache... But, he shook his head in a negative, gesturing for him to continue. "He has huntsman training, enough to graduate from a combat school and have a high chance of entering Atlas, that alone would have been enough to shoehorn him into the Specialists if he weren't a faunus."
He rose a brow, "That is high praise." His tone was skeptical.
"You know what Huntsman are capable of, even as trainees," His friend said with a roll of his eyes. "His tutor has nothing but praise for him, and that's something rare in the hired ones." There was some rustling as he sorted through some papers before extending him a paper, "And he's not the only one, that's a list of his grades from childhood, take a look." Huh... That was a smart kid.
"He's clearly an asset, one that could be very useful in Atlas' hands."
He thought about it, scratching his chin before asking that one important question. "What about him being a potential spy?"
Hawke looked away for a moment, clearly in deep thought. When he spoke, it was slow like he was still thinking during the action. "We don't have any proof that he and his people gave false testimonies regarding the White Fang, and have plenty of proof that they were telling the truth. Besides..." He gestured over to the contract that had the boy's signature on it, which gave the state permission to constantly monitor his every move should he be accepted into the army, until such a time came that his loyalties were undeniably proven.
Hawke continued, "Failing that... There is almost certainly going to be an Agent planted in his class anyway, he is too high profile to be left with just a single monitor."
Reed, who had been mollified up to the point his friend mentioned that, objected with a another raised brow. "And who would be able to stop a Huntsman trainee if he decides to escape with valuable information?"
"Be smart," Hawke chastised, before leaning back on his chair... "And I was thinking... Grom."
"That old coot?" Reed asked, appalled. "Oh, I'm starting to pity his class already."
Hawke chuckled, which quickly turned into a yawn as his tiredness started to take its toll on him after long hours of work. "So, we are giving the boy a chance?"
Reed sighed, "Against my better judgement, I vote yes."
Hawke nodded, and pressed the proverbial green stamp on the boy's file.
__________
Weeks later...Iskander's day had not started out great.
That could go for a lot of his future comrades actually, who had just started their first day in hell by being woken before the sun was even up by shouting Drill Instructors that Iskander believed to have vocal cords made out of iron.
They had shepherded them to a field and run them through a calisthenics routine straight out his nightmares, strangely making him thankful for all those years he'd spent under his tutor drilling him in the harsh training regimen of a Huntsman, otherwise his life might have just turned into hell judging by how his fellow recruits were faring compared to him.
And that was with him being repeatedly singled out for mistakes he had not made.
For obvious reasons.
Then when that was all said and done, they had brought them to fucking Satan.
"ALRIGHT BOYS!" The Drill Sergeant roared as he paced up and down the formation of recruits, disregarding the indignant faces of several women also present entirely and continuing his shouting. "I am Sergeant Grom, you'll either call Sir or you'll find yourself thrown out of my fucking camp posthaste! I was called out of retirement to help turn you bunch of sorry ingrates into proper Atlesians she can be proud of!"
He stopped for a moment, his eyes roaming through the entire formation before he pitched his voice once again. "And you'll deliver or by the gods I'll make sure you spend your time here stuck inside the deepest latrine I can find, IS THAT FUCKING UNDERSTOOD?!"
"Sir, yes sir!"
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, LOUDER YOU SONS OF BITCHES!"
"SIR, YES SIR!"
The first one had been nothing more than a scattered exclamation, the second one was a roar just a few decibels short of the Sergeants own, not that the feat was lessened by that seeing as Iskander was pretty sure they could hear them all the way from Mantle. The aforementioned Sergeant didn't seem impressed however, but he resumed his pacing and gazing at each recruit as if he was planning on eating them alive.
"You at least learn fast, which is far more than I can say for the whoresons they tried to foist on me last time I accepted this job..." The man grumbled loudly, which seemed to be his default mode of communication. He continued his pacing for a few minutes, looking at each recruit and mumbling something that only they could hear (and didn't seem to appreciate) before moving onto another one.
Until finally, he came to a stop in front of Iskander.
Here we go again...
Sergeant Grom's eyes bore into his, only slightly darting to his obvious ears that stood out even more than usual because of the buzz-cut, (He'd already missed having it long, Atlas was cold.) before focusing on the only faunus in the entire formation. The rather-newly christened Iskander could not make out what the Old Sergeant was thinking from the look in his eyes, but he wouldn't deny that he had a pretty good guess.
Though his next words were a surprise. "You'll listen to my orders, do as you're told, show basic competence, be loyal to Atlas and her people and you might just become that! A Proper Atlesian!" He finally broke eye contact, having said that out loud to for everyone to hear and pitching his voice once again to go for another round of his shouting. "That goes for all of you bastards! It doesn't matter if you have another pair of ears, a tail or lack a fucking dick, you're all brothers in this Army!"
Someone actually chuckled in the back, which made everyone freeze for a moment as they looked in horror at the Sergeant who had certainly heard it. But all tension seemed to dissipate as the man actually started laughing himself, prompting others to tentatively join in on the merriment. Even Iskander laughed, though his was nothing more than an unenthusiastic chuckle that quickly petered off.
Good for him too, because he could see Sergeant Grom's expression turn sour so rapidly that the man might have just broken a record. "ENOUGH!" His roar also managed to break a record in how loud he could be, as it startled everyone to attention. "I believe that's about enough laughter for the duration of your stay here!" The man bit out viciously, seemingly taking a moment to revel in everyone's terror before pointing at the hill that overlooked the unusual gathering place they'd been marched to after going through the basic exercises that had not prepared them for Grom.
"I'll leave you off easy for today... Complete this track before three hours sharp and I don't make you get acquainted with those latrines before lunch..." A beat passed, with everyone dumbly starting at the Instructor. "What are you waiting for?! GO, GO, GO!" The tinnitus inducing scream was enough to jolt everyone out of their shock, as everyone started their run toward salvation from toilet-cleaning duty.
Except Iskander, who had tripped immediately upon trying to take a simple step.
On someone's foot.
Before he could rise to his feet and catch up to the others, a boot pressed down on his back to stop him, no doubt leaning a very fine print on his grey uniform. "Did I tell you that you could lie down Mutt?" And there it was... The exact sort of attention he'd been hoping to avoid but was failing spectacularly at...
"Sir, no sir." He said as he tried again, this time finding himself pushed further.
The Sergeant's voice was deceptively soft when he continued, "I don't think that you'll mind giving me a twenty since you're already on the ground? Isn't that so, Recruit?"
He bit out a curt: "Sir, yes sir." Before starting the push-ups with the weight of the Sergeant's boot still weighing him down. Though he refrained from telling the man that it was still there, Iskander very much doubted he would care all that much even if he were to bother...
There was no doubt in his mind that he was sending his Tutor a thank you card after this day, because he'd managed to finish those push-ups in a relatively timely manner before starting down the track. He even finished the track on time, and actually managed to pass some people along the way, if only barely. The disbelieving look in their eyes when they realized that they would be stuck cleaning toilets while would rest brought him no end of satisfaction, even as he lay in a heap of exhaustion.
Iskander chose not to dwell on the contemplative look that he'd caught Sergeant Grom giving him, not willing to delve deep on just what kind of punishments the Old Man he was planning for him.
He'd survived, and was now one step closer to his goal.
That was all that mattered...
For now.
____
Boy, do I seem obsessed with this story...
Do tell me if I got the Boot Camp bits wrong btw, I am always open to criticism from you guys as it helps me better my writing.
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Fragnostic
Cheshire
- Location
- Neko City
Ah, I always wondered why it's called "Boot Camp". Now I know.
A couple scattered spelling/grammar errors, but definitely an awesome start. One small nitpick/ idea, have the DS call all the Trainees "boot" but our protag "boot heel". Dog joke.
- Location
- California
Oof. Casual racism and humor. Not bad, but would the Drill Sergeant follow through.
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- Location
- Murica
Having gone through boot camp myself, I'll say this is accurate for the beginning of boot camp, but to instill a sense of unity. Later on, when someone push... everyone push. Constant pushing...
Everyday... all day...
... Oh also degrading nicknames and saying all around.
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How many years till canon ?
Assuming he is around Winter's age, 4-6 years. If he is closer to RWBY's ages, its happening right now. Im personally assuming that he is either slightly older than or enlisted before Winter, given that the OG heiress joining the military is a pretty big deal in a city practically owned by the SDC and he would have probably mentioned it if it already happened.
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Sorry for starting late on the replies guys.
Thank you. And as you probably saw, the enlistment has come with a lot of conditions.
Glad to have your interest
Thank you. But I'm going to have to leave you wondering for now
I'd wait and see, the future is going to have interesting things in store for our MC!
Glad you think so.
Yeah, that does seem to be more sensible, thank you for the correction.
Unintentional, I assure you.
Still kinda funny though
Thank you for the suggestions, I'll keep them in mind!
Yeah... Was kinda hard reading about the subject to be honest, but kind of a given when looking at their line of work and what they have to do for it.
Basically a few years before RWBY starts.
Good guesses! Which we'll certainly be getting into in the future.
Thank you. And as you probably saw, the enlistment has come with a lot of conditions.
Glad to have your interest
Thank you. But I'm going to have to leave you wondering for now
I'd wait and see, the future is going to have interesting things in store for our MC!
Glad you think so.
Yeah, that does seem to be more sensible, thank you for the correction.
Unintentional, I assure you.
Still kinda funny though
Thank you for the suggestions, I'll keep them in mind!
Yeah... Was kinda hard reading about the subject to be honest, but kind of a given when looking at their line of work and what they have to do for it.
Basically a few years before RWBY starts.
Good guesses! Which we'll certainly be getting into in the future.
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Recommended listening material, might even give you a couple of hints...
You'll have to pick and choose between the lines though.
Chapter 3: And You Are?
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[The trials continue, keep in mind that the previous warning is still valid, and also that our MC might not have the most healthy set of ideals due to his circumstances]
Week 2 of Boot Camp
Iskander could barely keep his eyes open.
It had been a tiring day, even more so than usual. The Drill Sergeants had put them all through the wringer today, one that had left almost all of them too exhausted to even crawl by the time it came to an end, and he had a good feeling some of those people would have quit already had they not the context for just what had the Sergeants in such a cruel mood toward their charges.
Of course, those people were the lucky ones, because they were deemed to be in no condition continue onto the next exercise. Where those that were still left standing were forcefully driven to the ground by none other than Sergeant Grom, who also happened to be suffering from the same foul mood that had been so prevalent in his colleagues all day, and did not hesitate to make it known to them.
Iskander just about managed to become a part of the latter group despite the Sergeants doing their best to bury him six feet under with shining examples of their tender mercies, though even he could not survive in the special kind of hell Grom had put them all through after suffering through the previous one. It also didn't help that Grom too did not shy away from giving the only Faunus Recruit he had an extra challenge as he so very tactfully put it.
And it hadn't ended there, because he had also been forcefully volunteered for the midnight patrol around the barracks that would last until the crack of dawn, his silent objections were ignored by those who were cruel enough to ignore his highly exhausted state but also merciful enough to assign someone to patrol with him. Though one would be hard-pressed to call it a mercy for anyone by Iskander knowing that his fellow watchmen was as likely to collapse midway through this patrol as himself.
Sufficed to say, he was quickly coming to consider this day to be one of the worst ones he had to suffer through.
Considering he'd lived two lives (even though one was fairly short) with their fair share of bad memories between them, with one of them being actually seeing a truck barreling toward his face without any intention of stopping...
It said a lot about this day.
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that they were trying to get him to give up and quit. Although if he actually didn't know any 'better', his superiors were sure to be disappointed still, because he didn't have any intention of quitting.
Especially since he had a fairly good guess on just what had them in such a foul mood and it would be a cold day in hell before he let those bastards make him give up on anything.
He was, of course, talking about the White Fang.
He didn't have anything to prove it, since his only contact with the outside world were sporadic, censored letters. Censored letters which were going to be under even greater scrutiny than what was normal considering his status as a potential spy and someone who had willingly signed away his privacy to prove he wasn't one, and since he wasn't foolish enough to test if his handlers were racist enough to take any mention of the White Fang as treachery, he was content to be in the dark when it came to that front.
That meant all he had going for him were his gut feeling and the powers of logical observation.
But what else could it have been, to anger their superiors so?
To make them focus on Iskander with even greater vehemence than usual?
It didn't take a genius to predict that they had probably done something bad again, and judging by the fallout they had suffered from today it was even worse than the usual shit they pulled in pursuit of their futile, murderous crusade that had probably done more damage to the cause of faunus equality than anything that had come before it, including the war that nearly got all of them forcibly located to an island despite them being 'victorious'.
He still couldn't believe how they continued despite the damage they were doing... Were they just ignorant of the damage they were doing to their people with this?! Or did they just not care about anything else other than murdering every human they got their hands on because of some asinine plot to take revenge? Making it so that the wheels of the cycle of hatred, which would only end when the Grimm overran them all, keep turning.
It made him furious that the hypocritical bastards just didn't think their actions through, that the White Fang had instantly rolled over and became the very animals the humans told them they were at the first sign of hardship they had faced. That they were still joined, cheered and supported by 'disaffected' Faunus who just didn't know how the real world worked, was just the cherry on the top for Iskander's least favorite cake.
He channeled that anger, let the thoughts storm about his head.
It would keep him focused.
Focused on what he was here for, focused on what really mattered.
It would keep him from falling asleep.
Because he was one step away from collapsing from exhaustion, and his fellow patrol-made was not in the mood for a conver-
"Wow, you look mad."
...Nevermind.
He schooled his features and turned to look at the young man walking beside him, examining him with a critical eye. He looked to be around Iskander's age, a bulky figure whose resemblance to the early days of Dwayne 'the Rock' Johnson was only more accentuated by the identical buzz-cut haircut he shared with Iskander, and he wasn't just talking about appearances.
He quickly noted that his uniform read 'Freimann' before responding to his unasked question.
"It hasn't been a good day."
It earned him an understanding wince. "Yeah... No kidding, the Sarges were pissed."T he sentence was accompanied by him scrubbing his eyes to rub the sleep off of them. "Did you hear why?"
Iskander shot him a disappointed look. "I was hoping to ask you that actually."
Freimann nodded, "Yeah, just checking." The young man let out an angry sigh. "My uncle told me there was a White Fang attack on a SDC freight-train heading out of Mantle." Iskander could see his knuckles go white from the tension, he did not blame his fellow recruit in the slightest. "Apparently they were also ferrying some civvies, they got caught in the crossfire."
He knew it.
"Not surprised it was them." He growled silently, "Do you know how many?"
Freimann sized him up for a moment, "My uncle -he works Intelligence- didn't tell me much." He said, his tone no less angry. "But yeah... It's a lot, judging by how angry the Sarges were." He shot Iskander a look and added with a low voice, "And how much they got on your case..." Iskander looked away and glowered at having his suspicions confirmed, his hastily made choice were looking more and more sensible the more he heard.
"Bastards." He spat, and tried to fend off dark thoughts.
Freimann shot him a look, a more contemplative spark entering his eyes, though the suspicion and anger never left them. "Aren't they, you know... Your people?" Iskander's glower turned to him, and Freimann raised his hand to calm him down even as he looked decidedly unimpressed with his show of temper. "Calm down, I'm not accusing you of anything."
"They're not." He said again to himself and for the first time to Freimann. "They might as well be the beasts Schnee tells them they are." He took a deep breath to calm himself "If they're stupid enough to not see the harm they're doing to my people's future, I consider them no different from the Grimm." Iskander shot a look at Freimann, who seemed to not know what to do with that information.
They sank into an uncomfortable sort of silence after that, continuing their patrol while fighting to keep the exhaustion from claiming them by doing their job. It was easier said than done however, and Iskander thanked his lucky stars that he at least had night-vision to make this stuff easier for him, Freimann seemed to be struggling all the more because of his lack of it.
It took the burly recruit several more minutes of it to break the silence, and when he spoke his words were tinged with much more exhaustion than Iskander had ever heard in his life.
"Is that why you enlisted?"
"Hmm?" Iskander turned to him with a raised brow, aware that his voice -which had very recently gained a rasp- was not any better.
Freimann elaborated, much more calmly than one might assume to be normal when talking to a possibly spy. "For revenge, I mean."
Ah...
"No," He denied, "I enlisted to prove them wrong." He cleared his throat to get rid of that damn rasp, "They believe that you humans would only consider us their equal through bloodshed, but I believe that only proves those who believe us to be nothing more than animals to be tamed right." He took a deep breath. "Only proving them wrong would gain us our equality, and I aim to lead by example."
Freimann took a moment to scratch his chin, seemingly contemplating. "Admirable..."
Iskander scoffed. "And you believe it? I have met several people who seem to think otherwise and believe me to be a spy." He rolled his eyes, "Nevermind that I've already signed away a significant portion of my freedom to prove otherwise." It was getting irritating, and creepy. Especially since people were staying awake to watch him while he slept to prove he was a spy or something.
"I reckon time will tell, but I have a pretty good feeling about you."
Iskander looked at him with a raised brow.
It only took him a moment to roll his eyes again. "You're ridiculous."
Freimann grinned, unrepentant.
"Come on, the sun's about to come up, we'll grab a bite to eat and finally crash.
"Finally. I'm not gonna wake up until Grom himself drags me out of there."
Was this how friendships worked? Iskander still hadn't gotten the hang of that thing.
[Do tell me if the formatting screwed up, I'm on mobile and could not check. I await your responses always and I hope you'll like this chapter, we return to a saner update schedule after this.]
Week 2 of Boot Camp
Iskander could barely keep his eyes open.
It had been a tiring day, even more so than usual. The Drill Sergeants had put them all through the wringer today, one that had left almost all of them too exhausted to even crawl by the time it came to an end, and he had a good feeling some of those people would have quit already had they not the context for just what had the Sergeants in such a cruel mood toward their charges.
Of course, those people were the lucky ones, because they were deemed to be in no condition continue onto the next exercise. Where those that were still left standing were forcefully driven to the ground by none other than Sergeant Grom, who also happened to be suffering from the same foul mood that had been so prevalent in his colleagues all day, and did not hesitate to make it known to them.
Iskander just about managed to become a part of the latter group despite the Sergeants doing their best to bury him six feet under with shining examples of their tender mercies, though even he could not survive in the special kind of hell Grom had put them all through after suffering through the previous one. It also didn't help that Grom too did not shy away from giving the only Faunus Recruit he had an extra challenge as he so very tactfully put it.
And it hadn't ended there, because he had also been forcefully volunteered for the midnight patrol around the barracks that would last until the crack of dawn, his silent objections were ignored by those who were cruel enough to ignore his highly exhausted state but also merciful enough to assign someone to patrol with him. Though one would be hard-pressed to call it a mercy for anyone by Iskander knowing that his fellow watchmen was as likely to collapse midway through this patrol as himself.
Sufficed to say, he was quickly coming to consider this day to be one of the worst ones he had to suffer through.
Considering he'd lived two lives (even though one was fairly short) with their fair share of bad memories between them, with one of them being actually seeing a truck barreling toward his face without any intention of stopping...
It said a lot about this day.
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that they were trying to get him to give up and quit. Although if he actually didn't know any 'better', his superiors were sure to be disappointed still, because he didn't have any intention of quitting.
Especially since he had a fairly good guess on just what had them in such a foul mood and it would be a cold day in hell before he let those bastards make him give up on anything.
He was, of course, talking about the White Fang.
He didn't have anything to prove it, since his only contact with the outside world were sporadic, censored letters. Censored letters which were going to be under even greater scrutiny than what was normal considering his status as a potential spy and someone who had willingly signed away his privacy to prove he wasn't one, and since he wasn't foolish enough to test if his handlers were racist enough to take any mention of the White Fang as treachery, he was content to be in the dark when it came to that front.
That meant all he had going for him were his gut feeling and the powers of logical observation.
But what else could it have been, to anger their superiors so?
To make them focus on Iskander with even greater vehemence than usual?
It didn't take a genius to predict that they had probably done something bad again, and judging by the fallout they had suffered from today it was even worse than the usual shit they pulled in pursuit of their futile, murderous crusade that had probably done more damage to the cause of faunus equality than anything that had come before it, including the war that nearly got all of them forcibly located to an island despite them being 'victorious'.
He still couldn't believe how they continued despite the damage they were doing... Were they just ignorant of the damage they were doing to their people with this?! Or did they just not care about anything else other than murdering every human they got their hands on because of some asinine plot to take revenge? Making it so that the wheels of the cycle of hatred, which would only end when the Grimm overran them all, keep turning.
It made him furious that the hypocritical bastards just didn't think their actions through, that the White Fang had instantly rolled over and became the very animals the humans told them they were at the first sign of hardship they had faced. That they were still joined, cheered and supported by 'disaffected' Faunus who just didn't know how the real world worked, was just the cherry on the top for Iskander's least favorite cake.
He channeled that anger, let the thoughts storm about his head.
It would keep him focused.
Focused on what he was here for, focused on what really mattered.
It would keep him from falling asleep.
Because he was one step away from collapsing from exhaustion, and his fellow patrol-made was not in the mood for a conver-
"Wow, you look mad."
...Nevermind.
He schooled his features and turned to look at the young man walking beside him, examining him with a critical eye. He looked to be around Iskander's age, a bulky figure whose resemblance to the early days of Dwayne 'the Rock' Johnson was only more accentuated by the identical buzz-cut haircut he shared with Iskander, and he wasn't just talking about appearances.
He quickly noted that his uniform read 'Freimann' before responding to his unasked question.
"It hasn't been a good day."
It earned him an understanding wince. "Yeah... No kidding, the Sarges were pissed."T he sentence was accompanied by him scrubbing his eyes to rub the sleep off of them. "Did you hear why?"
Iskander shot him a disappointed look. "I was hoping to ask you that actually."
Freimann nodded, "Yeah, just checking." The young man let out an angry sigh. "My uncle told me there was a White Fang attack on a SDC freight-train heading out of Mantle." Iskander could see his knuckles go white from the tension, he did not blame his fellow recruit in the slightest. "Apparently they were also ferrying some civvies, they got caught in the crossfire."
He knew it.
"Not surprised it was them." He growled silently, "Do you know how many?"
Freimann sized him up for a moment, "My uncle -he works Intelligence- didn't tell me much." He said, his tone no less angry. "But yeah... It's a lot, judging by how angry the Sarges were." He shot Iskander a look and added with a low voice, "And how much they got on your case..." Iskander looked away and glowered at having his suspicions confirmed, his hastily made choice were looking more and more sensible the more he heard.
"Bastards." He spat, and tried to fend off dark thoughts.
Freimann shot him a look, a more contemplative spark entering his eyes, though the suspicion and anger never left them. "Aren't they, you know... Your people?" Iskander's glower turned to him, and Freimann raised his hand to calm him down even as he looked decidedly unimpressed with his show of temper. "Calm down, I'm not accusing you of anything."
"They're not." He said again to himself and for the first time to Freimann. "They might as well be the beasts Schnee tells them they are." He took a deep breath to calm himself "If they're stupid enough to not see the harm they're doing to my people's future, I consider them no different from the Grimm." Iskander shot a look at Freimann, who seemed to not know what to do with that information.
They sank into an uncomfortable sort of silence after that, continuing their patrol while fighting to keep the exhaustion from claiming them by doing their job. It was easier said than done however, and Iskander thanked his lucky stars that he at least had night-vision to make this stuff easier for him, Freimann seemed to be struggling all the more because of his lack of it.
It took the burly recruit several more minutes of it to break the silence, and when he spoke his words were tinged with much more exhaustion than Iskander had ever heard in his life.
"Is that why you enlisted?"
"Hmm?" Iskander turned to him with a raised brow, aware that his voice -which had very recently gained a rasp- was not any better.
Freimann elaborated, much more calmly than one might assume to be normal when talking to a possibly spy. "For revenge, I mean."
Ah...
"No," He denied, "I enlisted to prove them wrong." He cleared his throat to get rid of that damn rasp, "They believe that you humans would only consider us their equal through bloodshed, but I believe that only proves those who believe us to be nothing more than animals to be tamed right." He took a deep breath. "Only proving them wrong would gain us our equality, and I aim to lead by example."
Freimann took a moment to scratch his chin, seemingly contemplating. "Admirable..."
Iskander scoffed. "And you believe it? I have met several people who seem to think otherwise and believe me to be a spy." He rolled his eyes, "Nevermind that I've already signed away a significant portion of my freedom to prove otherwise." It was getting irritating, and creepy. Especially since people were staying awake to watch him while he slept to prove he was a spy or something.
"I reckon time will tell, but I have a pretty good feeling about you."
Iskander looked at him with a raised brow.
It only took him a moment to roll his eyes again. "You're ridiculous."
Freimann grinned, unrepentant.
"Come on, the sun's about to come up, we'll grab a bite to eat and finally crash.
"Finally. I'm not gonna wake up until Grom himself drags me out of there."
Was this how friendships worked? Iskander still hadn't gotten the hang of that thing.
[Do tell me if the formatting screwed up, I'm on mobile and could not check. I await your responses always and I hope you'll like this chapter, we return to a saner update schedule after this.]
- Location
- South Carolina
Good to see another update! Thus the plot moves forward!
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yes, this is good, I like this. Somebody who understands why the canon White Fang's methods won't fucking work.
Guardonion
Easily Distracted
- Location
- Türkiye
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No brakes!
He has the benefit of hindsight, the others don't. This has the added effect of driving him nuts.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
A fun counterpoint to my own fic, where the foresight/hindsight is far less useful, vis a vis the White Fang, than my SI'd initially hoped.
Any plans for Sienna Khan, by the way? Hopefully something other than just "she who lived, died, and did nothing in between"?