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Description
CRASH.
The first sound in decades breaches the cold, still air, a sealed bulkhead buckling in two before it slowly creaks open, the locking bolts bent and twisted into uselessness by a tremendous force. Dim gray light spilling through, it’s temporarily obscured as a gloved hand reaches out and clamps around the rim of the door. A hiss of steam, a grunt, and over a decade of rust flakes off as the door is bodily forced out of the frame.

Flakes of snow drifting down around him, another gout of steam hissing from the grilled vents of his mask, Sander Pades gives a growl of irritation. One hand dusting at the rust stains on his coat, the other draws what appears to be a jury-rigged scroll from an inside pocket, intricate brasswork replacing the sterile white shell, the screen cast in flickering violet light.

“I have finally located the main entrance point to the facility.” His voice level, it nonetheless vibrates with a metallic edge, a result of the modulated voicebox in his throat. “…and I would like to take this moment to inform you that it was precisely thirty three point three five meters off from the information that was provided to me.”

“Oh come now, mister Pades, considering the nature of the information in question, a matter of a few dozen meters cannot possibly present that much of an obstacle for someone such as yourself.”

The voice on the other end of the communication was, by comparison, as smooth as ever, even through the slightly grainy connection. Sander glowered.

“Headmaster and landlord you may be, sir, but I do not appreciate being sent almost blind into the investigation of an old facility such as this any more than a normal person, especially considering that said few dozen meters were straight down in a crevasse which I almost failed to detect.”

“A crevasse, you say…?” There is a fresh undercurrent of interest. “Mister Pades, what precisely is your location at this moment?”

Taken aback, Sander took a moment to check the skies above, barely visible above the walls to either side, and blocked by the gray clouds. A quick adjustment to his monocle soon fixed that, however, and after a moment to make an estimate based on the sun’s location, he returned with a reply, typing them into the scroll.

A moment of silence as the other man reviewed them, then a knowing hum.

“Ah, I see…yes, that would explain it. The last survey team made an addendum regarding some land subsidence in the area, so it is likely part of the facility shifted as well during the time period between the survey and your arrival.”

“That would explain the damage.” Sander agreed grudgingly, looking up. What had once been an old research facility of some kind now lay twisted and warped across the landscape, the structure torn at the seams where the shifting land had stressed it beyond the limits of what its supports could take. Half-buried in the drifting snow, he’d originally assumed it to be an avalanche that had done in the building.

“Either way, judging by the connection, I assume you will be out of contact once you enter the facility. I trust I need not remind you of the situation?” A new voice, female this time

Sander merely grunted in response.

“You are certain there is something in here then?”

“Yes, quite.” The speaker took on an authoritative tone. “The facility is extremely old, dating back to within the last three decades, likely a short while after your own disappearance from the world at large. It was abandoned after something went wrong with the power systems and Grimm in the area were drawn in by the commotion. Strangely enough, there were no attempts to recover any materials from the facility, and even the records of its existence were lost in the bureaucratic clutter that ensued. I have yet to determine whether that was deliberate or accidental, but given the sudden eagerness to forget its existence by most of the staff in their reports on it, I would say the former, rather than the latter.”

The researcher gave another grunt.

“And? Why the sudden interest in it now?”

“You should be able to tell that for yourself, mister Pades.” The woman replied coolly. “The signal should be stronger for you at that range than for the distant settlement that picked it up by chance, should it not?”

“…” Sure enough, the emergency beacon showed up clear as day on his scroll, albeit still with a certain amount of quality loss. Considering that he was practically on top of the facility, that much signal degradation meant that it was a miracle the nomadic settlement had happened to pick it up where and when they had.

Miracles…Sander’s one visible eye narrowed. As a general rule, he didn’t believe in such things. Like ‘coincidences’ they were simply a way of hiding things that were too convenient for one or more parties involved. Looking from the open doorway to the scroll in his hands, he reminded himself once again of the manipulative prowess of the Headmaster of Beacon, and grimly resolved to do a bit more digging when this was over.

An old facility, abandoned to the elements and supposedly lost in bureaucracy…then, an emergency beacon, outdated by approximately twenty to thirty years, based on this transmission code, suddenly coming online to be picked up by a passing band of nomads…

Firstly there was no reason as to why Beacon specifically would have gotten involved so easily, and secondly, if the first was true, it meant that Ozpin himself had a vested interest in whatever lay inside.

And Sander Pades would have bet his left arm that surveys be damned, the Headmaster of Beacon knew EXACTLY what was in here, otherwise there would have been anybody else but Sander standing here now. An odd mixture of student and graduate in one, Sander wasn’t what could be considered a ‘typical’ Academy attendee. If anything, his place there was more like that of a postgraduate research student, enjoying a significantly greater degree of freedom to act and study on his own, outside a typical curriculum.

But that was only in terms of normal knowledge.

In terms of experience, however, it was a far different matter. Sander had become this stasified monster over thirty years ago, and the world he had lived in up to that point had been a far more bloody and brutal one. Even as a mere scientist, one of those rare individuals that had plunged into trying to find a way to save their dying race beyond simply swinging a weapon, he had seen far more in his short time than most fresh-faced Signal students probably would have in their entire lives. Of course, as always there would be exceptions, with the Remnant of today just as willing and able to provide Grimm-driven tragedies as the one he remembered, but for the most part, it remained true.

As a result, given his bizarre condition, and the fact that there were never enough Huntsmen or Huntresses to be everywhere at once, inevitably, Sander found himself repaying the debt of lodging and resources at Beacon, with running occasional ‘errands’ like this one for the Headmaster.

He was neither pleased nor tolerant of the interruptions, but even he had to grudgingly acquiesce in the end. Not to mention the more…interesting ones would sometimes provide ample opportunity to field test some of his newer devices.

Burying such irrelevant thoughts, he shook his head and started forward.

“I am going in.”

“Then I wish you well, Mr. Pades.” Ozpin was back on now. “And as promised, once this investigation is over with, I will refrain from pestering you further to review the profiles of potential partners during your time here at Beacon.”

“I certainly hope so.” Sander growled. “I may officially be a student, and I may personally respect the decision to uphold the tradition of partnerships and teams from thirty years ago…but I have little time nor patience for having some snivelling rookie following me around.”

He halted for a moment, steam hissing from his mask.

“I am not like them, Ozpin, nor do I wish to be treated as such.”

For a moment, he remembered another ‘team’, a group of four friends that had started out in the streets, each clawing their way up to respectability and survival in those harsh, bloody times.

“The difference between myself and any fresh-faced new inductee is a guaranteed death sentence for any attempts at such a partnership, and I would prefer if you remembered that. Pades out.”

With a crackle, the line went dead.

“You haven’t told him then, have you?” Glynda Goodwitch’s stare was accusing.

Behind his desk, Headmaster Ozpin leaned back amidst the ticking gears and exhaled, blowing lightly on the steaming mug in his hands.

“I see no reason to.” He replied lightly. “After all, there is every reason to believe I have simply misread the situation and that there really is nothing inside that facility.”

“I find that highly unlikely.” Came the dry reply. “Especially considering that I am well aware you’ve personally entered mister Pades’ name down for this year’s initiation tests, alongside individuals such as these two.”

A pair of folders landed on the desk.

“The disowned and disinherited, not to mention maimed prodigal son of the Kuang dynasty, and the heir to Cristallo Transportation, who might I add has taken the reins of the company in all but title already? Not to mention the fact that Cristallo and the SDC have been at each others’ throats for years already, don’t you think this will be pushing Lord Schnee too far?”

“Of course not, miss Goodwitch…rather, it will push him just far enough. I am sure you have heard the rumors surrounding his own heir, yes?”

“The young Weiss, you mean? Yes, of course. They say she’s as wilful and headstrong as she is a good singer, and there have been rumors of there being some…conflict within the family as a result. Why?”

“Given that recently there were orders placed from the SDC to several extremely highly priced weaponsmiths, not to mention a number of skilled combat tutors, I think it is highly likely that the young Schnee has designs on becoming a Huntress herself.”

“What?!”

“Not this year, of course, as those orders were placed relatively recently, less than half a year ago. If I know the Lord half as well as I think I do, it will be approximately another year again before his daughter feels confident enough to have mustered enough skills and resources to challenge him to letting her attend an Academy. Given that Beacon has received several very discreet inquiries regarding admission and the studies taught here from a private account that can be traced back to the SDC itself, I think it is a fair bet to assume she has her sights set on us.”

“That…doesn’t make any sense. The SDC is based out of Atlas, there’s no reason for Schnee to agree to letting her go so far abroad, especially given the situation with the Fang.” She frowned. “…which is a shame, given that from what I’ve heard, she is quite the capable student.”

“No reason…well, perhaps that is true. But with the scion of one of SDC’s fiercest rivals having gained admission here…I do think that the Lord will find one himself.”

“…either to keep an eye on her, or to simply prove his own superiority by pushing his daughter to surpass her accomplishments here when she does eventually arrive.” Glynda filled in, a displeased look on her face. “Ozpin, you do realize that Cristallo will be in second year by that point, correct? Do you have any idea the kind of pressure that Schnee would put on the poor girl to make up for that deficit?”

The Headmaster turned in his chair, staring out the gear-lined window behind his desk.

“Some…but as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. With the SDC and Cristallo involved, it will become that much more difficult for our enemies to make a direct move on Beacon itself. As difficult as it might be to allow such a course of action…” He took a sip. “If there is one thing I have learned, it is that sometimes, the end justifies the means.”

His eyes fell on the chessboard nearby, the pieces frozen in the middle of a game.

“I believe our esteemed Mr. Pades understands that particular way of thinking quite well…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Well, after an ungodly length of time being sidetracked by other projects, I've finally swung back around to RWBY and team aRSEniC, as many of you might remember from their debut here !

Despite the length of time, I assure you, it's been pretty busy getting this all prepared, and completely UNLIKE every other project of mine, (save for CCC and maybe the Division) most of this particular story has been written up well in advance. And yes, it is a short story this time, so this will likely run to maybe six or seven chapters at most, but never past 9 (THE STRONGEST NUMBER).

The hard part about this particular little project though, is the act that most of the planning and so forth has been done via Skype chats, both voice and text, and so it's a matter of getting it all down on paper. Plus, unlike most typical things like this, it's not just one person writing for everybody. There's like, about 16 or 17 of us at this point, everybody with their own character and assembled into teams, so in a way it really is as chaotic as actual initiation day. XD

aRSEniC is one of those teams, but as this little chapter hints, they're not exactly going to be first year. By the time the main story starts (name still undecided, but Bloodstained Palette is being tossed around, thank you ), it will have been one year since they became a team, and will proceed in roughly the same timeframe as events in the show. Don't expect to see too much in the way of canon characters from here on out, though, I'm extremely wary of the problems with canon characters and OCs in this stuff, so aside from passing references, the Palette will likely remain standalone.

Anyway, onto this chapter! As you can perhaps tell, this is a bit of an origin story. Before there was RSEC, there was just a reclusive, antisocial clockwork engineer named Sander Pades, a man from another time. And then Ozpin sent him to investigate something off the books, which is where it all starts. This story may or may not end with the creation of RSEC, but at the very least, it'll provide enough of an introduction to explain many things about their background and some of the headcanons I'll be applying to this rendition of Remnant.

It might be good, or it might be bad, but either way, I'm looking forward to the experiment!

Hope you all enjoy, and I hope I can do justice with my own contribution to what that great man left behind for all of us. See you in the comments!

Description
CRASH.
The first sound in decades breaches the cold, still air, a sealed bulkhead buckling in two before it slowly creaks open, the locking bolts bent and twisted into uselessness by a tremendous force. Dim gray light spilling through, it’s temporarily obscured as a gloved hand reaches out and clamps around the rim of the door. A hiss of steam, a grunt, and over a decade of rust flakes off as the door is bodily forced out of the frame.

Flakes of snow drifting down around him, another gout of steam hissing from the grilled vents of his mask, Sander Pades gives a growl of irritation. One hand dusting at the rust stains on his coat, the other draws what appears to be a jury-rigged scroll from an inside pocket, intricate brasswork replacing the sterile white shell, the screen cast in flickering violet light.

“I have finally located the main entrance point to the facility.” His voice level, it nonetheless vibrates with a metallic edge, a result of the modulated voicebox in his throat. “…and I would like to take this moment to inform you that it was precisely thirty three point three five meters off from the information that was provided to me.”

“Oh come now, mister Pades, considering the nature of the information in question, a matter of a few dozen meters cannot possibly present that much of an obstacle for someone such as yourself.”

The voice on the other end of the communication was, by comparison, as smooth as ever, even through the slightly grainy connection. Sander glowered.

“Headmaster and landlord you may be, sir, but I do not appreciate being sent almost blind into the investigation of an old facility such as this any more than a normal person, especially considering that said few dozen meters were straight down in a crevasse which I almost failed to detect.”

“A crevasse, you say…?” There is a fresh undercurrent of interest. “Mister Pades, what precisely is your location at this moment?”

Taken aback, Sander took a moment to check the skies above, barely visible above the walls to either side, and blocked by the gray clouds. A quick adjustment to his monocle soon fixed that, however, and after a moment to make an estimate based on the sun’s location, he returned with a reply, typing them into the scroll.

A moment of silence as the other man reviewed them, then a knowing hum.

“Ah, I see…yes, that would explain it. The last survey team made an addendum regarding some land subsidence in the area, so it is likely part of the facility shifted as well during the time period between the survey and your arrival.”

“That would explain the damage.” Sander agreed grudgingly, looking up. What had once been an old research facility of some kind now lay twisted and warped across the landscape, the structure torn at the seams where the shifting land had stressed it beyond the limits of what its supports could take. Half-buried in the drifting snow, he’d originally assumed it to be an avalanche that had done in the building.

“Either way, judging by the connection, I assume you will be out of contact once you enter the facility. I trust I need not remind you of the situation?” A new voice, female this time

Sander merely grunted in response.

“You are certain there is something in here then?”

“Yes, quite.” The speaker took on an authoritative tone. “The facility is extremely old, dating back to within the last three decades, likely a short while after your own disappearance from the world at large. It was abandoned after something went wrong with the power systems and Grimm in the area were drawn in by the commotion. Strangely enough, there were no attempts to recover any materials from the facility, and even the records of its existence were lost in the bureaucratic clutter that ensued. I have yet to determine whether that was deliberate or accidental, but given the sudden eagerness to forget its existence by most of the staff in their reports on it, I would say the former, rather than the latter.”

The researcher gave another grunt.

“And? Why the sudden interest in it now?”

“You should be able to tell that for yourself, mister Pades.” The woman replied coolly. “The signal should be stronger for you at that range than for the distant settlement that picked it up by chance, should it not?”

“…” Sure enough, the emergency beacon showed up clear as day on his scroll, albeit still with a certain amount of quality loss. Considering that he was practically on top of the facility, that much signal degradation meant that it was a miracle the nomadic settlement had happened to pick it up where and when they had.

Miracles…Sander’s one visible eye narrowed. As a general rule, he didn’t believe in such things. Like ‘coincidences’ they were simply a way of hiding things that were too convenient for one or more parties involved. Looking from the open doorway to the scroll in his hands, he reminded himself once again of the manipulative prowess of the Headmaster of Beacon, and grimly resolved to do a bit more digging when this was over.

An old facility, abandoned to the elements and supposedly lost in bureaucracy…then, an emergency beacon, outdated by approximately twenty to thirty years, based on this transmission code, suddenly coming online to be picked up by a passing band of nomads…

Firstly there was no reason as to why Beacon specifically would have gotten involved so easily, and secondly, if the first was true, it meant that Ozpin himself had a vested interest in whatever lay inside.

And Sander Pades would have bet his left arm that surveys be damned, the Headmaster of Beacon knew EXACTLY what was in here, otherwise there would have been anybody else but Sander standing here now. An odd mixture of student and graduate in one, Sander wasn’t what could be considered a ‘typical’ Academy attendee. If anything, his place there was more like that of a postgraduate research student, enjoying a significantly greater degree of freedom to act and study on his own, outside a typical curriculum.

But that was only in terms of normal knowledge.

In terms of experience, however, it was a far different matter. Sander had become this stasified monster over thirty years ago, and the world he had lived in up to that point had been a far more bloody and brutal one. Even as a mere scientist, one of those rare individuals that had plunged into trying to find a way to save their dying race beyond simply swinging a weapon, he had seen far more in his short time than most fresh-faced Signal students probably would have in their entire lives. Of course, as always there would be exceptions, with the Remnant of today just as willing and able to provide Grimm-driven tragedies as the one he remembered, but for the most part, it remained true.

As a result, given his bizarre condition, and the fact that there were never enough Huntsmen or Huntresses to be everywhere at once, inevitably, Sander found himself repaying the debt of lodging and resources at Beacon, with running occasional ‘errands’ like this one for the Headmaster.

He was neither pleased nor tolerant of the interruptions, but even he had to grudgingly acquiesce in the end. Not to mention the more…interesting ones would sometimes provide ample opportunity to field test some of his newer devices.

Burying such irrelevant thoughts, he shook his head and started forward.

“I am going in.”

“Then I wish you well, Mr. Pades.” Ozpin was back on now. “And as promised, once this investigation is over with, I will refrain from pestering you further to review the profiles of potential partners during your time here at Beacon.”

“I certainly hope so.” Sander growled. “I may officially be a student, and I may personally respect the decision to uphold the tradition of partnerships and teams from thirty years ago…but I have little time nor patience for having some snivelling rookie following me around.”

He halted for a moment, steam hissing from his mask.

“I am not like them, Ozpin, nor do I wish to be treated as such.”

For a moment, he remembered another ‘team’, a group of four friends that had started out in the streets, each clawing their way up to respectability and survival in those harsh, bloody times.

“The difference between myself and any fresh-faced new inductee is a guaranteed death sentence for any attempts at such a partnership, and I would prefer if you remembered that. Pades out.”

With a crackle, the line went dead.

“You haven’t told him then, have you?” Glynda Goodwitch’s stare was accusing.

Behind his desk, Headmaster Ozpin leaned back amidst the ticking gears and exhaled, blowing lightly on the steaming mug in his hands.

“I see no reason to.” He replied lightly. “After all, there is every reason to believe I have simply misread the situation and that there really is nothing inside that facility.”

“I find that highly unlikely.” Came the dry reply. “Especially considering that I am well aware you’ve personally entered mister Pades’ name down for this year’s initiation tests, alongside individuals such as these two.”

A pair of folders landed on the desk.

“The disowned and disinherited, not to mention maimed prodigal son of the Kuang dynasty, and the heir to Cristallo Transportation, who might I add has taken the reins of the company in all but title already? Not to mention the fact that Cristallo and the SDC have been at each others’ throats for years already, don’t you think this will be pushing Lord Schnee too far?”

“Of course not, miss Goodwitch…rather, it will push him just far enough. I am sure you have heard the rumors surrounding his own heir, yes?”

“The young Weiss, you mean? Yes, of course. They say she’s as wilful and headstrong as she is a good singer, and there have been rumors of there being some…conflict within the family as a result. Why?”

“Given that recently there were orders placed from the SDC to several extremely highly priced weaponsmiths, not to mention a number of skilled combat tutors, I think it is highly likely that the young Schnee has designs on becoming a Huntress herself.”

“What?!”

“Not this year, of course, as those orders were placed relatively recently, less than half a year ago. If I know the Lord half as well as I think I do, it will be approximately another year again before his daughter feels confident enough to have mustered enough skills and resources to challenge him to letting her attend an Academy. Given that Beacon has received several very discreet inquiries regarding admission and the studies taught here from a private account that can be traced back to the SDC itself, I think it is a fair bet to assume she has her sights set on us.”

“That…doesn’t make any sense. The SDC is based out of Atlas, there’s no reason for Schnee to agree to letting her go so far abroad, especially given the situation with the Fang.” She frowned. “…which is a shame, given that from what I’ve heard, she is quite the capable student.”

“No reason…well, perhaps that is true. But with the scion of one of SDC’s fiercest rivals having gained admission here…I do think that the Lord will find one himself.”

“…either to keep an eye on her, or to simply prove his own superiority by pushing his daughter to surpass her accomplishments here when she does eventually arrive.” Glynda filled in, a displeased look on her face. “Ozpin, you do realize that Cristallo will be in second year by that point, correct? Do you have any idea the kind of pressure that Schnee would put on the poor girl to make up for that deficit?”

The Headmaster turned in his chair, staring out the gear-lined window behind his desk.

“Some…but as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained. With the SDC and Cristallo involved, it will become that much more difficult for our enemies to make a direct move on Beacon itself. As difficult as it might be to allow such a course of action…” He took a sip. “If there is one thing I have learned, it is that sometimes, the end justifies the means.”

His eyes fell on the chessboard nearby, the pieces frozen in the middle of a game.

“I believe our esteemed Mr. Pades understands that particular way of thinking quite well…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Well, after an ungodly length of time being sidetracked by other projects, I've finally swung back around to RWBY and team aRSEniC, as many of you might remember from their debut here !

Despite the length of time, I assure you, it's been pretty busy getting this all prepared, and completely UNLIKE every other project of mine, (save for CCC and maybe the Division) most of this particular story has been written up well in advance. And yes, it is a short story this time, so this will likely run to maybe six or seven chapters at most, but never past 9 (THE STRONGEST NUMBER).

The hard part about this particular little project though, is the act that most of the planning and so forth has been done via Skype chats, both voice and text, and so it's a matter of getting it all down on paper. Plus, unlike most typical things like this, it's not just one person writing for everybody. There's like, about 16 or 17 of us at this point, everybody with their own character and assembled into teams, so in a way it really is as chaotic as actual initiation day. XD

aRSEniC is one of those teams, but as this little chapter hints, they're not exactly going to be first year. By the time the main story starts (name still undecided, but Bloodstained Palette is being tossed around, thank you ), it will have been one year since they became a team, and will proceed in roughly the same timeframe as events in the show. Don't expect to see too much in the way of canon characters from here on out, though, I'm extremely wary of the problems with canon characters and OCs in this stuff, so aside from passing references, the Palette will likely remain standalone.

Anyway, onto this chapter! As you can perhaps tell, this is a bit of an origin story. Before there was RSEC, there was just a reclusive, antisocial clockwork engineer named Sander Pades, a man from another time. And then Ozpin sent him to investigate something off the books, which is where it all starts. This story may or may not end with the creation of RSEC, but at the very least, it'll provide enough of an introduction to explain many things about their background and some of the headcanons I'll be applying to this rendition of Remnant.

It might be good, or it might be bad, but either way, I'm looking forward to the experiment!

Hope you all enjoy, and I hope I can do justice with my own contribution to what that great man left behind for all of us. See you in the comments!