Just another random idea I'm clearing out of my head-space before I forget about it.
While I fully intend to make this a full-on fic, I want to get my other affairs, and older fics, in order first.
Prologue: A Woman Scorned.
Legends. Stories scattered through time. Since the dawn of creation, Mankind has always put great stock in recounting the exploits of heroes and villains. Kind of fitting really, after all, when you stop to think about it, everything we ever knew was merely a by-product of time, built on the dusty remnants, of a forgotten past.
Me? I've always been an 'in the now' kind of guy, my concerns tend to limit themselves to 'what's for dinner?' or 'who's picking up the tab', so I for one couldn't begin to tell you how this all got started, as due to the inherent nature of the world we live in there are more forgotten religions than we know what to do with, each with their own particular brand of Genesis to preach on about.
Some say the world was born of fire, others that it was moulded from clay. One really weird cult claimed we were all merely the product of a popular web-series that had outlived its creator but nobody took those guys seriously, so long as they were kept away from anything remotely sharp.
Still, for the purpose of narrative, I'll simply stick to the Genesis handed to me courtesy of a dusty, drunken old crow, if only because the original source was from a man I respected, but probably shouldn't have trusted as much as I had.
See, while there are an untold number of Gods and Goddesses of dubious legality out there, the only two with any form of concrete evidence as to their existence, despite no-one seeming to know their names, were the enigmatic 'Brothers'.
The Elder brother, as these things usually go, was the so-called 'God of Light' and typically went around being all cheerful and pleasant, making random things like plants, animals, mountains, you name it.
Sadly, as you no doubt surmised, this meant that the younger brother, the so-called 'God of Darkness', jealous of his brothers' talents, took it upon himself to be a creepy edgelord and destroy everything his sibling had created.
Fortunately for us, Brother Number 1, either had the patience of a saint or just didn't give a fuck, as no sooner would the sun rise than he'd simply start over, making more things as if to spite his sibling, resulting in an endless loop of creation and destruction.
Needless to say, being the lazy, edgy bastard that he was, Brother Numero Dos got sick of the endless cycle and decided to take a leaf out of his brother's book, creating a blight on the world that shared his innate desire to destroy everything and anything his brother created.
And thus, the creatures of Grimm came to be.
Now I won't bore you with the details regarding the greatest threat to all sentient life on the planet. After all, the odds of someone being born into this world unaware of the existence of Grimm is about as likely as a group of complete idiots managing to sabotage the elaborate plans of an organisation dedicated to training the most elite murder-machines in the universe through sheer dumb luck and bull-headed stupidity.
In any case, suffice to say it was the creation of the Grimm that finally got the elder brother to realise just how much of a little shit his sibling was being, and after what was likely a dramatic battle too graphic to be put into visual media, though I personally believe involved a single bitch-slap, he convinced his sibling to join him in creating one last masterpiece before pimping off to some new world out there.
Now I'm sure you've all figured out by now just what it is the Brothers created, but for those of you who spent your schooldays sniffing glue and staring at the teacher's butt in her tight skirt, it was us.
And by 'us' I don't just mean 'Humans' like certain asshole elitist, mustachioed cultists would have you believe, I mean 'All Sentient Life of Remnant', or to put it simply, every living being that can generate an aura.
Now for all of you out there cowering in your homes wondering just what the hell an Aura is, normally the only answer I'd be able to give you is 'Classified' or at the very least 'the thing that lets Hunters do all the really cool shit with Dust'. But seeing as how things have quite literally gone to Hell in a hand-basket, along with the only people whose opinion I cared for, I think I can be forgiven for letting a few things slip.
To put it as simply as possible without insulting your intelligence, Aura is a manifestation of the life force inherent in every living creature on Remnant with a soul. That's right, everyone on Remnant, regardless of rank, gender, or station, can learn to do all the cool shit Hunters do on television, provided, of course, they learn how to access their Aura.
Now, for those of you who don't have the benefit of coming from a line of Hunters or living in close proximity to one, the first time you'll likely hear of the subject of unlocking your Aura is during your first combat class at a Preparatory Hunter Academy. Students deemed worthy of Graduating to one of the Premiere Hunter Academies and lacking the benefit of having their aura unlocked early by Huntsmen relatives, are instructed in how to unlock their Aura naturally over the course of their formative years through meditation and self-reflection.
It goes without saying that this is the preferred way of learning to unlock one's aura, as it gives the body time to acclimatize to the changes wrought on it. However, as you probably correctly surmised from my explanation, there are other methods of unlocking one's Aura.
The second method, popular among Hunter Families and the Atlesian Military, is to have someone trained in the use of Aura slowly pour their own into the student, typically while reciting a chant, in order to coax the student's aura to the surface. While a faster means of unlocking ones Aura, it is nowhere near as effective in the long run, as the initiate's body would still need to learn to adapt to the changes wrought on them in addition to learning to master their new abilities.
This is fine for the likes of Atlas or those descended from Hunter lineage, as the former can make up for the lack in quality through rigorous military discipline while the latter have the advantage of having family to coach them early on, but it goes without saying that the other Huntsmen Academies prefer quality over quantity, so this method, while hardly frowned upon, is not as prevalent elsewhere.
There does exist a third means of unlocking Aura, but I'll cover that at a later time, as in all honesty we've waffled on about semantics for long enough. What it all boils down to, basically, is that Aura is primarily a defensive mechanism that passively coats the wielder in a protective force field, which is why Hunters can survive being slammed through walls, set on fire and all that other crazy blockbuster shit you see during the tournaments.
Now what does all this have to do with The Brothers Grimm, as I tend to call them? Well you see, the Hunter Academies weren't always around. Hell, they're actually rather recent, at least in the long history of things, an after-effect of The Great War. And yes, it really does deserve the Capital Letters.
See, once the King of Vale, sorry, The Last King of Vale, finally got off his throne to remind his fellow rulers just why he wore the pointy hat, he stuck around long enough to found the Hunter Academies with his most trusted acolytes appointed as Headmasters, both to ensure that the next generation of Guardians lived up to his expectations and to safeguard the relics which he built each academy on top of, before taking a leaf out of the Brother's book and pimping off to parts unknown.
What relics, you might be wondering? Well when the story says the Brothers Grimm gave us Knowledge and the ability to Choose whether to Create or Destroy, they weren't being metaphorical. Each 'gift', Knowledge, Creation, Destruction and Choice, exists in a physical form, and it should probably go without saying, but as tools crafted by the Gods, their power is off the charts, enough to change the world as the user saw fit.
Looking back, that might explain just how the King was able to kick so much ass back in the day, so you really had to hand it to the guy for not only hiding the damned things in the last places anyone would think to look, but ensuring they would be filled to the brim with trained warriors. The fact said warriors didn't even know the relics were there just meant there were less odds of someone discovering them.
Unfortunately, someone did find out about them, even worse, that someone was the delusional sort who believed everything would be better with them running the show, or at the very least with most of the world's population wiped out, forcing the survivors to cling to them for mercy.
Not that such things mattered to me mind you. After all, what did I care about some delusional witch wanting to enshroud the world in darkness like the antagonist of some JRPG? Well being dragged ass-first into the middle of the clusterfuck certainly didn't give me much of a choice now did it?
Hm? You want to know what the hell I'm talking about? Well then sit back ladies and manwhores and let me regale you with a colourful tale of sex, debauchery and you should totally see the look on your faces right now. Seriously, funny shit.
But in all seriousness, as with most stories leading up to a cluster-fuck, my story begins, and ends coincidentally enough, with a woman.
Atlas, Capital City of Solitas, Several Weeks prior...
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...Weiss Schnee!"
The Auditorium promptly burst into scattered applause as a spotlight tracked the young, white clad woman as she walked onto the stage, her features a mask of pure calm in the face of their scrutiny and the myriad camera flashes from the shadows.
The whole place was packed to the brim with the Atlesian Elite, every single one of them the kind of elitist, privileged snob who would only drink water if it came sparkling out of a brand bottle and was served in a crystal wine glass by three different waiters. The kind of people that liked to appear charitable by 'donating' pittance to charities they formed amongst themselves whilst squeezing every penny out of their minimum wage employees.
Seriously, there was probably more wealth on display in this one auditorium than had probably been sunk into building the damn thing in the first place. Hell, the only reason little miss Schnee was even on stage in the first place was due to being strong-armed into yet another fundraiser devised by her father, as if the Schnee Dust Corporation even needed more money in the first place.
No this was about control, and Jacques Schnee (nee Gelè)'s desire to wrest what little he could of it from his youngest daughter. A fact that young Weiss clearly knew as she gazed impassively into the crowd, allowing not one iota of her true feelings to show as she closed her eyes, took a breath to settle herself, and began to sing.
"Mirror, tell me something. Tell me who's the loneliest of all..."
"Hell of a voice she's got there." I complimented, standing just out of sight of any wandering eyes or cameras that might be aimed at the private booth that had been arranged for my client "You must be proud."
"I am." My client confessed, her cool blue eyes gazing down at the figure on stage with a wistful smile that made her appear years younger. Not that she was old mind you, indeed just by looking at her you'd be hard-pressed to tell she was pushing forty something, were it not for the bags beneath her eyes and the worry-lines at the edge of her lips as she sipped from a crystal wine glass.
Her third glass, it should also be noted, since I arrived in the booth, with god only knew how many she'd consumed prior.
If I were to describe Willow Schnee in a single word it'd be MILF. If threatened to reconsider, I'd probably go with 'jaded beauty', for despite putting out three kids her looks hadn't deteriorated. If anything, like the fine wine she was currently imbibing, she had only matured with age, leaving her with a figure that many a woman, mother or not, would gladly kill their firstborn for.
However, it was clear from the dull look in her icy blue eyes and the way she tossed back her wine like it was water that years in a loveless marriage had taken its toll on the daughter of Nicholas Schnee. While her husband's PR Team did their utmost to maintain the illusion of the Perfect Atlesian Family, hell the asshole even went so far as to bleach his hair to strengthen the illusion due to none of his kids taking after him, in all honesty their marriage had deteriorated since the death of Willow's father, to the point it was practically a public secret they slept in separate wings of the mansion altogether these days.
The strife within house Schnee wasn't limited to the parents either. With the exception of the youngest child and only son, Whitley, who from what I'd heard was a brown-nosing little snake in weasel's clothing, both of Willow's daughters had grown distant from their father, her eldest, Winter, even going so far as to renounce her title as heiress to join the Atlesian Military as a Specialist.
Unfortunately, as much as I admired the eldest Schnee for her defiance, if she'd intended to inconvenience her father then she had failed spectacularly. If anything, her renouncing her birthright only served to benefit Gelè, as it removed a potential threat to his control over the company once Willow kicked the bucket.
See, Nicholas Schnee wasn't the sucker Gelè had pegged him for, which in all honesty he really should have expected, considering everything the old man had gone through to get where he was today. Seriously, the man clawed his way up from the gutters with nothing but his wits, brains, charisma and single-minded determination, founding the basis of an industrial empire that to this day was considered the premier supplier of Dust-Based products.
So it went without saying that, when Jacques Gelè came sniffing around after Nicholas' daughter like the opportunistic rat he was, ol' Grand-Pappy Schnee instantly saw through his schemes and worked a clause into his will that ensured the SDC would remain firmly in the hands of his family.
Put simply, while Gelè was the current CEO of the SDC, his position was entirely dependent on his marriage to Willow, the true owner of the company, with her children being next in line, a fact that Gelè only discovered during the reading of Nicholas' will several years after the birth of their youngest child. In short, Gelè couldn't divorce Willow without losing everything he'd worked to obtain, and he couldn't simply kill her off, as control of the company would simply default to his kids before passing on to their myriad cousins, none of whom had approved of his marriage to Willow even before he revealed his true colours.
I had to admit, a part of me couldn't help but admire Nicholas Schnee. Not just for the multitude of achievements he'd done for not just Atlas, but the entire world, but for the sheer deviousness it took for him to find a way to screw his son-in-law over from beyond the grave.
'King Barlowe would be proud.' I mused, though my good humor soon fell as I followed Willow's icy gaze back down to Weiss, or more accurately to the scar resting beneath the girl's right eye. On anyone else it would've been barely noticeable, but with the light shining on her and her face raised towards the crowd, it stood out like a crack on a porcelain doll.
See, when Gelè discovered he couldn't just dump Willow and claim the SDC for himself, he'd stopped even trying pretend he hadn't married her for her position. Hell, the bastard came right out and admitted it during Weiss' tenth birthday, so confident of his control over her that Willow wouldn't dare divorce him out of spite.
While this proved true, for the most part, it also had the unintended effect of uniting the Schnee women against Gelè. While Whitley remained loyal, in-so-far as a brown-nosing weasel can have any loyalties, Gelè soon found himself faced with the very real possibility of losing everything the moment Willow kicked the bucket, right up until Winter, in an act of spite, cast it all aside to join the Military.
This, as you might imagine, lead Gelè to crack down hard on Weiss, the bastard likely hoping to indoctrinate her at best, or drive her off like Winter at worst, leaving control of the company with Whitley, whom as established was more than willing to be his pawn, for now anyway.
Fortunately, the Middle-Schnee had apparently inherited a good portion of Grandpa's shrewdness, for not only had she decided to emulate Winter and become a Huntress, she had done so publicly, without renouncing her inheritance as heiress to the SDC.
What this meant was that Gelè couldn't name Whitley as heir without causing a media shitstorm, but at the same time he couldn't countermand Weiss' proclamation, as it only served to bolster the reputation of the Schnee family, and by extension, the SDC, which had taken a considerable hit in recent years due to his, shall we say, less-than-savoury business practices.
However, by no means did this mean he'd sit back and accept Weiss defiance. Oh no, if anything he cracked down harder on her, doing his level best to get her to lash out or break her spirit, whichever came first, whilst outwardly masquerading as a proud supportive papa for the cameras, publicly voicing his support for her decision to attend Atlas Academy.
With this in mind, you can probably imagine the conniption he'd suffered when she publicly announced her intention to attend Beacon Academy. Not only was this a blatant act of defiance on her part, by transferring to Vale, where his influence was minimal at best, she would be out from under his thumb for the most formative part of her life.
Needless to say, Gelè hadn't taken the news well at all. Indeed, it was probably safe to assume the discovery of how well he'd been played by a girl not even half his age unhinged him a little, as that was the only logical explanation I could fathom that could possibly explain how the bastard thought he could get away with having his secretary sic a Gods-damned Grimm on his own daughter.
Oh sure, they covered the incident up as a 'training exercise', citing that the girl was never in any real danger and that the few injuries she received were due to her lack of experience, but at the end of the day the scar beneath Weiss' eye served as a brutal reminder of just what kind of man her father was.
"He'll be at the fundraiser this evening." Willow explained from behind her wine glass, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face "Weiss will be in attendance, so I ask that you avoid anything too…showy."
"I can't promise she won't have nightmares." I cautioned, which earned an actual scoff of amusement from the woman, her lips quirking upward in a self-mocking smile, as if anything I might expose Weiss to could possibly be more traumatizing than living with Jacques Gelè, the Schnee Matriarch titling back her glass once again as I took my leave of the cold woman and her lonely daughter.
SDC Fundraiser, Half-An Hour Later.
Weiss sighed internally, the Schnee heiress having spent the past half-hour since the concert finished rubbing elbows with her father's associates, to the point the plastic smile she wore on her face had actually begun to hurt.
It's not that she didn't enjoy singing, indeed, it was one of the few pleasures in life she could honestly claim as having made her own, without having to rely on her father's money. In retrospect, she should have known that the man would find some way to taint even that, using her talent as a means of bolstering their family's reputation, a reputation that had only begun to decline thanks to him.
Weiss wasn't ignorant of her father's dealings. Certainly, as a child she'd been more than willing to live the pampered life in her ivory tower, unconcerned with the affairs of Grandfather's company or her father's running of such. But then Grandfather had passed away, and her father had…changed.
No, rather, all the lies he'd cultivated to conceal his true nature had been exposed, though at the time Weiss had been too young to fully comprehend what was going on. All she knew was that her father had become angrier, colder, crueler, and that it had something to do with Grandfather's will.
It was around that time her mother had changed too, the once strong, cultured, strict buy loving woman devolving into a shadow of her former self upon realising she'd been shackled to a monster all this time.
To see their mother, who they had long since admired and sought to endeavour, brought so low by their father's cruelty, had galvanised the Schnee sisters into action, vowing to do whatever it took to wrest control of their lives, and their legacy, from their father, no, the usurper Jacques Gelè.
It was for this reason that Winter had sought to join the Atlas Military, surrendering her right as heiress to Weiss, both to ensure Jacques could not interfere with her studies and to provide her sister with an ally within the armed forces once it came time for her to succeed the company.
During the interim, Weiss had opted to bide her time, endured every indignity that Jacques forced upon her, cultivating the image of a pristine heiress whilst secretly honing her skills with the intention of busting free of her gilded cage by attending Beacon Academy.
Her reasoning for attending Beacon instead of Atlas were two-fold. Firstly, ever since Winter's defection, Jacques had gone to great pains to cultivate a working relationship with General Ironwood. While she highly doubted her father influence the General directly, his position as the premiere provider of Dust based products afforded him a lot of clout with the council, who unfortunately did possess the ability to do so.
Her second, but by no means less important reason for choosing Beacon over Atlas was to make a name for himself. From a young age it had become painfully aware that all of the praise she had been showered with had been due to her status as a Schnee. Even while singing she was not seen simply as Weiss, mere the Schnee Heiress, singing on behalf of the Schnee Dust Company.
Not that she was ashamed to be a Schnee, mind you. If anything, she and Winter attributed the decline of their family's good name entirely to the actions of her father. However, if she ever hoped to wrest control of her life away from the man, she needed to break away from that image for a time, let the world see there was more to her than a princess in an ivory tower, that the Schnee name meant more than just hollow, broken promises.
"That's precisely my point." Her father insisted, chatting away with another of his like-minded cronies with Weiss standing at his elbow, despite her desire to be virtually anywhere else "We offer Faunus the exact same wages given to the rest of our mining staff. Their argument's completely invalid right out of the gate."
"Well, I think the bigger issue here is our society as a whole." The businessman stated "You can't deny there's a link between their protests and the economic disparity between Atlas and Mantle."
'A disparity we created by moving all our businesses out of Mantle.' The heiress scoffed, though she had to admit she could hardly fault the logic of doing so. After all, while Solitas' inhospitable terrain was just as deadly to the Grimm as mankind, it couldn't ward them off entirely. It was just common sense to have the nation's capital be the most defensible location, and on Solitas that was Atlas Academy.
Did she think they had gone too far renaming the kingdom after the Academy? Perhaps, but in the end what did it matter so long as their people thrived? That they continued to do as they had always done, and surpass the limitations of technology? Compared to that, what were the lives of the few left behind matter?
'Everything.' Weiss insisted, once again steeling her resolve to do something about the situation once she'd wrested control of the company away from her father, only to flinch as he placed a hand on her shoulder. To anyone looking on from the outside, it would've come across as a show of paternal affection, but to Weiss, the man's touch simply sent waves of apprehension and disgust through her.
"Come along Weiss," he ordered, masking it as a gentle instruction with his cordial tone and the mask he wore whenever out in public "It's time to address our guests."
"Very well." Weiss acknowledged, knowing better than to try and shrug off the man's hand, instead accepting his offered arm as he led her through the guests towards the small stage, where a podium had been set up for his announcement, only to blink as the lights went out.
"What the devil?" Jacques demanded, his mask slipping for just a moment in surprise before he glared at one of the nearby waiters "Don't just stand there you idiot!" he hissed "Get the lights back on this instant!"
"Right away sir!" the poor man stammered, racing off to comply while Jacques turned his attention to calming the crowd, assuring them that it was simply a power failure, as no-one would dare attack them with the security detail he had hired.
'You mean the detail General Ironwood brought with him." Weis scoffed, glancing to the side where the General was glaring into the shadows, one hand pressed to his ear, the other reaching into his coat for his firearm. While the General hardly needed an escort, military protocol was very clear when it came to attending events with high-profile targets in attendance, so he'd seen fit to provide the security for the evening personally.
'A shame Winter couldn't make it.' She sighed, allowing a small smile to form as she recalled the conversation between the General and her father, where the General had offered nothing but praises for Winter's progress, a fact that brought Weiss no small amount of pride for her sister and satisfaction as she watched her father struggle to retain control of his emotions at the reminder of her defiance.
She was soon snapped out of her musings as the speakers, which had been prepped for her father's speech, suddenly activated, the audience stilling as a low, ominous humming filled the air. "What the devil?" Jacques demanded, glancing around warily "Who is that? What's going on here?"
Well what is this that I can't see, with ice cold hands taking hold of me?
"Is this some sort of publicity stunt?" he demanded as the haunting female voice began to sing over the speakers, turning to glare at Weiss, as if half expecting this to be her fault, only to relent when he saw how visibly confused she was by the turn of events "Come out and show yourself!"
When God is gone & the Devil Takes Hold, who'll have mercy on your soul?
"Oh you're one of those." He scoffed, shaking his head mockingly as the tension left his shoulders "Some religious nut-job trying to frighten me into joining one of your cults. Well nice try, preacher, but the only Spirit I believe in is innovation!"
'And Capitalism.' Weiss scoffed, though much like the other guests she was quickly calming down now that it was apparent that this was simply a publicity stunt, no doubt devised by one of the many charity groups her grandfather had set up that had been left out to pasture once Jacques took over the SDC.
'I should probably seek them out once I'm head of the company.' she mused, partially to make amends for what her father had done, and partially to find and shake the hand of whoever had the testicular fortitude to bypass the General's security to pull this off. If they were a Faunus, she might even consider hiring them just to rub salt in the wound.
The children prayed, the preacher preached, both time and mercy are beyond your reach.
"I hope you understand there'll be consequences for this." Jacques proclaimed arrogantly as he continued to glare at the room "Even if General Ironwood doesn't have you locked up, my lawyers will ensure you never see the light of day for a long time!"
No wealth, no land, no silver no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul.
"Is that a threat?" Jacques demanded, all pretenses of his genteel manner gone as he glared defiantly around the room "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?!" he snarled, waving his hand accusingly as he glared around the room, heedless of how everyone's attention was drawn to him "I am Jacques Schnee! I made this country what it is today, and I will not be threatened by the likes of you-!"
It happened so quickly that Weiss almost missed it. One moment she was watching father make a fool of himself, lashing out at whoever was behind this, admittedly unnerving prank like a petulant child, the next she was forced to blink as something red passed before her eyes, only to gasp in alarm as an explosion sounded outside, the audience whipping around just in time to see her father's limousine go up in flames.
"Everyone, calm down!" the General commanded, his tone brooking no argument as he drew his revolver from within his coat "My troops are currently guarding the exits, please proceed towards them in a calm and orderly manner and we will see you to safety." He turned to regard her solemnly "Miss Schnee, can I trust you to watch my back?"
"Y-Yes…?" Weiss stammered, caught off guard by the sudden explosion, only to mentally chastise herself, resuming her composure after a quick breath "I mean, yes Sir. I may not possess my weapon," she once again cursed her father for refusing to allow her to bring Myternaster with her "but I'm confident enough in my control of my semblance to at least provide support."
"Good enough." The General acknowledged, Weiss basking in the approval she detected in his words, only to blink as a scream cut through the air, the General whipping round to see several of the guests clustered around something off to the side "I said calm down! Damn it! Jacques, help me calm them down…Jacques?"
'Let me guess, the coward already made his escape when the explosion went off.' Weiss scoffed, not even bothering to hide her disgust with her father as she stepped forward to try and calm the panicking guests, only to blink as they stepped aside, allowing her to see just what it was that had set them off.
I'll close your eyes so you can't see, this very hour, come and go with me
It was her father, the man having not, in fact, made his escape like the coward he was, a fact that clearly surprised nobody more than himself, if the expression of shock on his face was any indication. At least Weiss assumed he'd been shocked. It was rather hard to tell, what with all the blood and the contents of his skull currently decorating the floor before him.
So stunned was Weiss by this revelation that she couldn't even bring herself to scream, simply standing there, watching as General Ironwood stood over the corpse, calling for his forces to secure the perimeter. A sudden cool breeze drew her attention to a nearby window, the heiress turning, slowly as if in a dream, just in time to see a tall figure, his features concealed by a hood as red as her father's blood, his body clad in a black bodysuit with a silver greaves and chest plate.
As if sensing her attention, he paused, tilting his head to glance over his shoulder at the silent heiress, the rest of the world seeming to fade into the background as they stared at one another. Then Weiss blinked and blinked and the moment was gone, along with the phantom, the open window with it's billowing curtains the only sign of his passing, the feel of the cool wind on her cheeks sending shivers down her spine as the haunting song drew to a close.
My name is Death and the End is here…
You have no idea how satisfying that scene was to write.
For those of you who guessed, this is another RWBY self-insert, though I won't go into details just yet. Suffice to say it follows the usual trope: Otaku is sent to Remnant, gains the abilities of their costume, shenanigans ensue.
No spoilers for now, but let's just say Jacque's death will have consequences on the plot of RWBY.
Till then, this is Kyugan signing out.