Heyo, Shadow here!
This story is vastly different from others.
There are NO OC lead characters and no crossover either, it's pure RWBY.
That last part is a lie, it's a RWBY Military AU starring our favorite girls, Team RWBY.
Oh yes, it's something that was sitting in my docs for... two and a half years(?) I believe. It was by far, out of everything I've written, my favorite.
I was originally going to keep this purely for myself, but something like this I wanted to share. This will take a long time in-between updates, it's delicate story that I loved writing, so I will be taking extra caution to write this one.
This particular chapter is where I would introduced the world, but I don't like massive info dumps, so that info would be sprinkled through out advancement of the plot.
The chapter will be a doozy for some since it intentionally shifts through past and present tense. I know you're not supposed to do that, but for one reason or another it felt right. It is both happening in the moment and in the past.
I labeled present and past tense switches so people don't get tripped up, it ruins immersion, but it also helps understand what is going on. Present is the current events while the past would be used for flashbacks and things of simialr definition.
And our first focus, Ruby Rose.
Trial of Blood
The enemy rifles barking with cries of wrath each vocal tear sinking further into the crumbling debris. The orange glare of the setting celestial body painting the ashen battlefield as crimson tears trickled along the crevices. The tinge of iron wafting in the air wrinkling a young woman's nose while her single silver eye taking in the warzone through her magnification glass on her rifle. The debris littered fog shrouding broken and cracking pavement. The once proud buildings crumbling, their metal skeleton perforating its own skin as it screams in anguish casting long shadows hiding the dangers of confrontation.
The silver eyed woman's black, fairy cut hair swaying with the jolting rifle, the red tipped strands glowing in the fading sunlight. The petite form decorated in light armor flushing with warm masonry, the weapon settling in the scar of the wall.
Crimson tears tainting the once gray sidewalk with each new body drop. With each crack of her weapon, another insurrectionist's comrade joining their companion in the baptism of blood. Each exhausted wind wafting the warm air and stench under her nose. Again, the stench of death forcing her nose to wrinkle in disgust from the plethora of limbless and barely recognizable beings that were once, at some point, resembled a Human or Faunas.
Another hapless insurgent raising their head too high met their end as their exposed cranium whipping back from the force of the high caliber round turning the grey matter, once referred to as a brain, to mush.
It was supposed to be a simple Sabotage mission, her team leader had their squad run in a basic wedge formation—enemies in abundance were not expected. A few, but nothing more than a small patrol that no one would miss. Civvies were all evacuated or slaughtered by the insurrectionist, so they were unlikely to blow their cover or prove to be an obstacle.
What happened next was a blur of movement and dull color, sprays of muted blood painted their situation grim. Instinctively she looked backed to learn of the origin of the unfortunate soul, the blonde hair was the only clue needed. It was CPL. Addison, her blonde hair now soaked in red.
"Lt. Rose!" Her eyes darted forward as her team leader's green eyes danced in erratic panic, detailing their surroundings.
Broken buildings waned in the distance: black humanoid figures occupied many of the shattered and torn walls, flashes of light marking them as the aggressors. Heavy leather combat boots pounded the dilapidated streets, rounds of molten lead scorching the weary floor surrounding the retreating soldiers. The hail of metal whizzing passed their ears throwing the varied tresses in panic.
Tearing flesh whispered in Lt. Rose's ear, another shriek of agony racking the bleeding winds. The Lieutenant resisted the need to look back, cracking flesh eating away her desire. Eyes fell upon her CO again; his hand waving to a rundown building characterized with scars of battle and stained blood like war paint.
"Keep moving!" His rifle roared back into the haze of war. "Bunker down in the postal building!" By his order she recognized the unmarked building as postal office, the language written in a foreign language she did not study.
Waves of heated metal casings burned through the oxygen around them, their ranks broken by the screaming particles of death. Rose and the team scurried and snaked along their decrepit path of Armageddon. The winding path scraped at the souls of their boots, their salvation only moments away.
Thunk! Clink! Clink! Beep!
There was no time to register as a wrathful god drenched their path in searing shrapnel and the screeches of gored limbs reddened the young Lieutenant's peripheral. The horror stricken expression of her CO forever branded in the annals of her mind. She was thrown to the side from the shockwave of destruction.
The pounding of heart thrown into overdrive as the adrenaline pushed it higher than what should be healthy. The ringing in her ears growing more and more intense as blood rushed to auditory senses. Survivors of the metal execution were thrown into fits of clouded judgment, their weapons mimicking their rushing emotions of grief and revenge. Others hugged their guns as one would believe its only life line in an ocean of death that claimed no remorse or regret as they tempted to pull them under.
The few who were unbound by their shock started to skirt off in different direction only to meet their end in a wall of alloy casings. Lt. Rose struggled to regain her sense of equilibrium- her world duplicated her visual sense. The annihilating forces lapse in caution would soon cost them as Lt. Rose's continued with her final objective from, now dead, CO. Unfortunately, she was the only one who seemed to remember her orders. Still shocked by the grenade her mind only had a single thought, 'bunker down'.
Muffled screams filled her senses, her failing comrades left like goat for slaughter. The roaring cries of bodily defiance soon fell in line. Gunpowder sprinkled in the air, the high octane smell reminding her that she was still marked for death. The warmth from her side growing colder every second she trudged towards the federal building, the trembling hand wishing to keep it to body temperature.
Staccatos of gunfire racked her ears, although, the monosyllabic affairs were soon loud mumbling as her forces dwindled. One by one, their platoon were struck down. As much as the prodigal soldier wanted to help, she would be no use standing in no man's land, but if she could position herself on the second floor of the federal building she may, just may, save the remnant of forces that she now commanded.
Growls of war were muted as she gained entrance into her final stand. It was almost tranquil, the spatter of paper tossed erratically from rushed and rough evacuation.
Her path leading her into the position she is in now, the enemy rifles barking with cries of wrath each vocal tear sinking further into the crumbling debris.
Enemy platoons scurrying between blackened metal from their previous battles. Hostiles hanging their weapons out of cover, blind firing, streams colliding with the upper level walls. Any surviving windows were brought to extinction from the untrained fire. Lt. Rose flinched ever so often as the stinging sensations marred her soft, pale features. The clattering of superheated sand joined in symphony as another high power caliber round sings, reaching crescendo and another strike to her impressively high body count.
Her side grew numb long ago. The slick warmth on her side is always apparent, each concussive backdraft sending jolts of electricity into her pain receptors, biting deep into her lip, drawing blood hoping to neutralize any shock inducement from her wound. Sighting down her scope she took in the range of the carnage that was played out; bodies of ally and enemy alike littered the black pavement and grey, now running red, sidewalks.
In one particular section of chaos that made her heart sink was a massive scorch mark impaled by many fragments of cool metal, a majority stained in red. Alliance soldiers' bodies shredded in extreme prejudice an unrecognizable lump of flesh erasing the feature of who was. For those she could make out their expressions far removed from their focus and forced to settle their shock and despair, wide for the world to see.
Another section was completely gored with her vengeance. Limbs untethered to their masses of body, scattered like a rotten buffet. Exhausted cement and pavement engraved with cracks of webs from her rifle's war cry. Smatterings of blood consuming the personality of peppered debris as the signs of demise grew ever steady. More soldiers of rebellious judgement springing from their stands ready to pass her verdict in the court of war.
Lt. Rose released her wasted magazine, the box clattering next to her four other containers marking her last ten rounds. Clicking into place and locking the storage of divine smite in solidarity. Trembling hands steadying and pulling the bolt, chambering the first round as her rifles swivels absorbing all facets into her scope. The hanging moonlight offering her little assistance in highlighting her ruthless enemies- their black attire disguising their form in the sea of dark abyss. The design had one deadly flaw; the burning red lenses of their tactical helmets.
Like a beast of darkness or a demon in the shadows the infrared lens left an ominous crimson trail, the only sign they are present and hunting. Fighting the Grimm warriors in pitch black environments was-is tantamount to a suicide run. Unfortunately, the twenty-one year old Lieutenant is granted no such retreat.
To add to her growing list of concerns, her body soon grows heavy as the battle rages forward. The tear on her side leaking her life essence, ever so, her poignant demeanor never introducing itself as stubborn grit stoned her features into a stoic perseverance. Crosshairs relaxing into a broken window, the apex predator weapon stalking the prey that hides within metal forests of moaning vehicles. Applauses of bullets reverberating against her stage cheering on the blind fire. The roses of debris filling her scene and mitigating her depth of field, but honed instinct guiding her finger as thunder and lightning strikes earth—the bloody scorch is the only evidence it was there.
The expulsion of superheated oxygen clears the stage with her chest falling into a rhythmic melody once more, pivoting her anti-material rifle locating its next target. Several searing shots spearing the skulls of advancing troops as their essence sprays across stoned floors. Her magazine dropping to a few rounds and leaving her in a precarious situation that left her with barely any ammo, but a plentiful of hostiles.
A glinting in the distance setting off her inner alarms as a crack vibrated the air, Lt. Rose dives to the opposite window. Tremors traveling down her arm upon impacting the cold floor littered with fragmented glass as it attempts to pierce her thick camouflaged sleeve to no success. More jolts of pain originating from the wound on her side, the sharp intake of breath and instinctively covering her hip.
She kept still for the moment her body stiffing up, taking several deep breaths as each breath shorter than the last, gradually fading into a calm melody. Gloved fingers fiddling with a strap containing her standard medical supplies the barely audible click indicating she accomplished the first part of her task.
Spattering of gunfire pounding the outside of the window wishing to keep her at bay—it didn't help before. It's only a matter of time before they start advancing again- she needs to stem her wound. Her lack of focus became quickly apparent when she didn't notice the enemy marksman down the street. It was only luck that the clouds parted ways and warned her before she fell with the rest of her platoon. Deft movements were parting the many supplies in her pack, her hand skimming the gauze and disinfectant. Stray bullets pouring from the window and rushing the sole survivor to finish her patch job. The pressure from the rough fabric was enough to stem the flow of more blood.
Attempting to peek she started edging her head over the sill -she didn't get the chance- pulling back as another round smashes into the wall next to her. Callous hands restricting the metal frame of her rifle, the XM500, lukewarm black metal weathered decreeing its heavy use. With effort, the young Lieutenant heaves her rifle across her chest and her silver eyes steeling in cold determination. The expulsion of her breath banishing the shivering dichotomy of fear and courage and replacing it with a deathly calm, eyes shut, silencing visual sense in an unwavering darkness.
Silence reigning as she seems to shutdown, everything but the scorch of war that was once a background soundtrack now full on orchestra of battle. Thunderous boots ricocheting off the street, clinking guns riding the troubled winds, frictions of fabric charging the air, flesh against metal, and the scraping of a rifle bolt loading another round as it mends into form—the fabric of Rose's uniform whips as several steel bolts of lightning separates the air along their paths.
The wale shrouding the battlefield and the realm of noise is voiceless, Rose's world shines once more and her sense awakening from their hibernation. The opposing marksman found their arm and torso in a finalized divorce, and two more comrades; one separating the leg and torso and the other, acquiring new hole with in their chest. The universe knew no kindness as the tenebrous soldiers didn't waste any glance or pity for the fallen. The maledictions of pseudo-demons storming the facility, Lt. Rose unlocks her rifle's magazine, empty. She swings her weapon around back as she unclips her customized handgun, HK Mk.23 and trains her weapon ahead.
Upon this action she witnesses her temporary bunker as a dining room of sorts. There is evidence that her earlier theory was right, scattered plates, Tupperware and silverware are left without owners on the various thick wooden tables. Footsteps scouting ahead as Lt. Rose zips to the closest table lifting the table just in time as heated hounds began barking and biting into the table, the impacts shaking her makeshift cover and translating to her shoulder on a whole other level.
The hurricane carrying for several seconds until there is a momentary lull, clanking clips colliding with the tile. Ruby pouncing at the opportunity, her handgun barking in retaliation: 1 shot, 2 shot, 3, 4, 5, and 6. Two APC rounds going wide, the last four rounds finding their marks—headshot, duo rounds embedding into a chest, and another shattering their throat and severing the spine; three fell and four more filling their space as the hurricane resumes.
Once more, she takes cover behind the whittling wood. Again it carries for another short moment, another lull and another spray of fire, and more fall only to be replaced. Replacing another magazine…
The table finally giving in as the table falls, unable to withstand the abuse. "Damn it." She bites under her breathing.
Instinctively, she pushes herself to the side, doing a dive and firing ad naseum. With no prep aim, most of the rounds go wide and others finding their marks, some lethal, but mostly non-lethal, but it did offer a hindrance. She seamlessly switches from her dive into a roll. Landing near another table she flips it and reloads. The confusion aiding her next attack, the moment of prep did wonders with each round finding its home in their skulls.
Again, they are quickly replaced. Unfortunately the growing pile of bodies worked to the Lieutenant's advantage and stalling them just long enough to pick them off, the mists of blood hovering momentarily. Thuds of bodies cracking, each step-flesh ripping as the apathetic opposing forces stomps across them and disgracing the weaklings.
The symphony of ruin joins the radio static in her ear, "Commander Greyson, do you copy!" bursts of static signifying her part ending.
Welcome to the end! The other difference is that it is short, approximately 2500 words without author notes.
So Ruby's introduction was a harsh situation, not easy having your entire division practically wiped.
I'm also sure the lot of you noticed that it was the atmosphere that was highlighted and telling the story and not so much the characters itself. This will be common, I haven't seen harsh war, nor was I military so I took what the battlefield would feel like, that would be easier than trying imitate how soldier feels in the thick of things. My best experience is paintball and laser tag, not really a life or death situation, ya know?
I think when I get around to character-based narative is when I read enough of Veteran's personal experience and a couple real war based books from 1st person narratives. I know a few and my phone has plenty of space for E-Books.
Anyway, that's it, I think. If i remeber it will be mention in the next chapter's author note.
Read & Review!