RWBY: Dark/Destiny

"Stop struggling, girl!" one of the men said, tugging painfully at Pyrrha's arm.

Ten-year old Pyrrha Nikos pulled again anyway, attempting to wrench free of the man's grip. Tears ran down her face as she looked up to her parents.

They just stood there, unmoving, uncaring. The cold air did not make them shiver. The beautiful colors of the autumn courtyard were meaningless in their eyes.

"Now, Pyrrha, don't resist," her father scolded.

Pyrrha wept. "Mommy! Daddy! Don't let them take me! Don't make me go!" she cried.

Pyrrha's mother scoffed at the uncivilized display her young daughter was performing before their guests. Even if they were Lord Ozpin's soldiers and not Lord Ozpin himself, it was still embarrassing and a mark against their rightfully-earned status.

"Silence, Pyrrha," her mother said. "Go with the nice men. Be a contributing factor of this family's status for once."

The words dug into Pyrrha's heart as they left her mother's mouth. She felt all will to resist drain from her body, and felt her muscles weaken.

"Mommy? Daddy?" she said weakly, hoping her final plea would make them change their minds.

However, they were unfazed, only looking down on her with disappointment.

"Go, girl," her mother scoffed again. "It is your destiny."

Pyrrha fell limp as the man pulled on her arm again. Her feet dragged as he pulled her towards the Bullhead where the other children were. Pyrrha stared at her parents through blurry, tear-filled eyes as they turned around and went back to their drinks.

The man threw Pyrrha down into the Bullhead, and the engines started. Pyrrha cried in silence as the door closed, cutting off her view of her parents. It would be the last time she would ever see them.

"Bring her to me," the Headmaster said in a cruel, cackling voice. The soldiers watching over the spar grabbed Pyrrha's arms and hoisted her up, carrying her before Headmaster Calavera, who was seated before the arena. They threw her down, and Pyrrha almost hit her head on the Headmaster's cane.

"You are the Nikos girl, are you not?" Headmaster Calavera demanded.

Pyrrha shifted so that she was on her knees, seated on her legs, before the woman. "Y-yes," she replied.

The Headmaster tapped her cane on the ground. "Do you care to explain to me why you refuse to participate in the sparring matches? Why you refuse to fight?"

Her selected opponent, Russel Thrush, chuckled nervously. He had been ordered to spar with her, but she refused to fight back, leading to him punching and kicking her until they stopped him for this.

Pyrrha lowered her head. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to hurt anyone. I want-"

Suddenly, she was cut off. The skull-shaped handle of the Headmaster's cane swung and struck her right on the face. Pyrrha cried out as her face nearly hit the floor. Tears welled in her eyes and she spat out a sizable pool of foul-tasting blood.

"Who gave you permission to want, girl?!" the Headmaster fumed. "You have no wants. You have no desires. You serve, and nothing else!"

Pyrrha leaned her head up to look at the old woman, who scowled down at her with her horrifying blue eyewear.

"You had best learn where your place is now, Nikos," Headmaster Calavera growled at her. "If you do not fight, I assure you, you will die." She looked up to the soldiers. "Take her away."

The two soldiers reached down and picked Pyrrha back up by the arms again, dragging her out of the arena. Thrush grinned at her as they carried her past him.

Pyrrha was thrown down into the cold, grey hallway. The two soldiers made some passing comments, then turned back into the room and slammed the doors behind them.

Pyrrha tried to get up and run back to her room, but she could not find the motivation. She curled up, lightly crying, wishing she could die right then and there.

"You stay there, and they're gonna hit you again," a gruff voice said.

Startled, Pyrrha squirmed up to a sitting position, backing away from the source of the voice. She looked up to see a tall, stubbled man standing there, drinking out of a flask. He wore a gray dress shirt with a long tail, black dress pants and black dress shoes. He took another swig from his flask, then pocketed it.

"W-who are you?" Pyrrha asked nervously.

The man eyed her incisively. His gaze remained on her for a long time, as if he was looking over every inch of her body before replying. "I'm a teacher here," he finally replied.

Pyrrha gasped in fear and stood up, realizing that she would likely be punished for not addressing a teacher formally.

"That's better," the man said, stepping towards her. "You better learn to respect us here. Remember, we own you now."

Pyrrha nodded, tears in her eyes and blood running from her mouth.

The man huffed. "I've watched you. And you have what it takes to be the finest warrior here. If you stop resisting and try going with the flow here, you'll find that you won't get hit as often." He leaned down towards her. Pyrrha could smell the liquor on his breath as he spoke. "If you don't fight, you'll die. That's what your parents sent you here to do, right? Fight or die."

Pyrrha sighed slightly. She did not want to think about her parents.

"Point is, what have you got to loose?" the man said, leaning back up and beginning to turn away. "This whole school wants to kill you. If you don't kill them first, they'll succeed." He paused. "You and your group will be under my instruction soon. I'm going to be teaching you how to fight. The question is, will you be my star pupil…" He turned his head to stare at her for another moment, then continued. "…or just another stain on my floor?" With that, he turned and walked away down the hallway.

Pyrrha waited until he was out of view, then wiped the blood away from her mouth. She hated this place, and she hated everyone there. But he had a point: the only way she was getting out of there was by graduating, and in order to do that, she would have to fight back. While part of her still did not want to hurt anyone, she realized that anyone she had to hurt was a part of this school, and that they deserved it. And if she was going to graduate, why not make it so she was feared? So that no one would try and hurt her again. The tears stopped flowing, and there, quietly, she began to seethe. Flashes of her parents giving her away barraged her mind. She clenched her fist. She felt her heart harden as she spat one last drop of blood. She would graduate, all right. She would survive. She would become the most fearsome fighter in the dammed place. And when she was done, she would treat Remnant with the same kindness it had shown her: none.

Pyrrha raised her fist and threw down another punch. The fist slammed into Russel Thrush's face, striking him right underneath his left eye. Blood ran down from his mouth and forehead as he recoiled from the impact, and then strained to look back up at Pyrrha.

"Please…" he begged in a raspy voice. "Stop…"

Pyrrha ignored his plea and slammed her fist down on his nose with a crack. Blood spewed out from it as Russel's head hit the concrete, knocking him unconscious.

Pyrrha released Russel's shirt and dropped him, then stood up straight, shaking the blood off of her knuckles. She stepped over Russel's unmoving body to allow the new recruits to drag him away. She clicked her heels together and stood at attention.

Her professor, Qrow Branwen, the same grey man who had turned her this way two years ago, stood in the shadows, watching. He nodded at her, with the slightest grin on his face. But it was not a grin of pride, but one of mischief and was a grin Pyrrha had come to know. He stepped out of the shadows, and addressed the group in the room.

"I think that's all for today," he said coldly. "You are dismissed." The younger children were quick to get up and head for the door, while the older ones who had been there longer stood up slowly. Pyrrha turned to the door as well, and saw the other children doing their best to stay as far from her as possible. Pyrrha felt the slightest bit content, knowing her plan to become feared had worked out.

"Miss Nikos," she heard Professor Branwen speak. She turned, still at attention, to face her teacher. He gestured her towards him. "A word with you in my office, if you please."

"Yes, sir," Pyrrha said obediently. As soon as Professor Branwen began walking towards the door on the other side of the room, Pyrrha marched behind him.

Professor Branwen opened the wooden door and stepped inside his office: a small room, grey and cold like everywhere else in the academy, with a wooden desk and a pair of chairs. Pyrrha took a seat in front of the desk, and Branwen closed the door behind her. "First off," he said, walking behind the desk and sitting down. "I'd like to congratulate you on how far you've come. You really have separated yourself from the stains."

"Thank you, sir," Pyrrha replied, sitting straight.

Professor Branwen looked down at his desk. "You're everything a Signal Academy teacher would want in a pupil: brave, obedient, bloodthirsty…" He paused and stared at her again. "Beautiful…"

Pyrrha shifted slightly in her seat. Words of praise were uncommon at Signal, and they felt unnatural to her.

Professor Branwen eyed her again, then stood up and walked behind her.

"You know you're my star pupil, right?" he said slowly.

Pyrrha shivered slightly. The way he spoke made her, as hardened as she was, uncomfortable. "Yes, sir," she replied. She jumped slightly when she felt his rough hands press down on her shoulders.

"Hmm," he hummed in reply. He leaned his head down close to hers. "You took my advice. You became the most feared and powerful student in this academy. And power… is attractive."

"Thank you, sir," Pyrrha said. She cleared her throat as he gripped her shoulders tighter.

"You want to stay this way, right?" Professer Branwen mused sinisterly. "You want to remain in control, right? You want to remain… head of the class?"

Pyrrha began to wince from the pressure he was putting on her shoulders, adjusting her position in a subtle, but failed attempt to throw him off. "Y-yes sir." She surprised herself by stuttering.

"Good," he said slowly. "Then you will do what it takes to… get on my good side?"

Pyrrha transitioned from uncomfortable to afraid. She decided to question him. "What do you mean, sir? I thought you were helping me. I thought you were proud of me."

"Mmm…" Branwen hummed again. "I am, Nikos. I am. I've always been watching you… admiring you… but I didn't mold you into the perfect warrior to not be rewarded for my troubles…" Suddenly, he reached down and placed his hand on her chest, squeezing.

Pyrrha yelped and stood up quickly, forcing him to release her shoulder and chest. Both areas were sore from the pressure, and she began to turn to look at him.

"Professor," she said in a tone that implied confidence, but not enough to get her in trouble. "I-"

Before she could finish, before she could even turn around completely, she felt his strong arms grab hers and pin them to her body. His stubbled face leaned down over her shoulder, reeking of alcohol. Without warning, his tongue lolled out and licked up the young girl's neck.

Pyrrha squealed in fear. "S-stop it!" she cried, squeezing her eyes closed.

"I told you you were beautiful, especially for your age…" the sick pervert mused slyly. "Please fight it. It's better that way."

"Stop!" Pyrrha shouted, her eyes slamming open. She used the strength she had built over the years to wrestle out of his grip, throwing him off. With one swift motion, she whirled around and began running at the door, gripping the handle. However, just as she was getting ready to pull the door open, she felt a tight grip ensnare her wrist. She looked back to see Professor Branwen, smiling smugly, begin to pull her back.

Pyrrha strained to free herself from his grip, turning the door handle in the process. She was able to push open the door, and a few seconds later, free herself from his grip. He swiped at her once more, missing as she bolted out of the office, ran through the training room, and through the door into the hallway. Qrow Branwen smirked. She could not run forever.

Pyrrha sprinted down the hallway, trying her best to keep the tears out of her eyes. All the other children blurred past her as she ran, unsure of where she was headed. She kept running straight, until she burst through a pair of metal double doors to the exterior. She scanned around, seeing children sparring on platforms and breaking rocks in the gravel pits. She wanted to break down and cry, but she had a reputation to keep up now. She had to get her mind off of what had just happened. Taking one second to wipe the tears from her eyes, she ran towards one of the nearby sparring platforms.

The line was shorter than some of the other platforms, so she was able to get up quickly. A soldier waved her up, and Pyrrha quickly ran up the stairs to the top of the platform to meet her opponent: a much larger teenage boy, probably around fifteen or sixteen. He was heavily muscled, with short blond hair and half-shut, squinting dark eyes.

"Well, hello there beautiful," he said quietly. "You gonna wrestle with me?"

Pyrrha, despite all of the sparring and brawling she had done in the past, began to hyperventilate. Why, of anything he could have said, did he have to say that? And now, of all times? She barely heard the soldier begin the match, only saw her opponent begin walking towards her with hands in a clawed position.

One of the claws wrapped into a fist, and swung itself at Pyrrha's face. Pyrrha ducked out of the way out of instinct, and charged into the boy's stomach, burying her head in his abs as she rushed to tackle him. However, he was too big, and he pulled her off of him and punched her in the gut, forcing her back.

Pyrrha grunted from the impact, then she looked up at the boy's face. As she stared, it began to morph into the face of Professor Branwen. Pyrrha's brows dropped, and she gritted her teeth in rage. The one person she believed was looking out for her best interests, who taught her heart to harden, was nothing more but a dusty old pervert who wanted nothing more than her body. She quickly thought about everything he had seen her do over the years; all the compromising positions she had taken during exercises, all the opponents she had dominated, all of the times she sweat and bled… he had watched it all with lust and perversion. She wanted nothing more than to hurt him for it. She wanted his blood.

Pyrrha screamed a war cry and charged at her opponent. He tried to grab her, but Pyrrha evaded his grip and punched him in the face. Her opponent staggered back, but Pyrrha continued striking, punching him over and over again, imagining each blow striking Professor Branwen. She kicked him in the gut, causing him to keel over in pain. Taking advantage of his position, Pyrrha wrapped her arms around him and, gathering her strength, lifted him off the ground and threw him off of the platform and into the mud below. She did not hear him move.

Panting, Pyrrha turned to the soldier overseeing the sparring and stood straight. He waved her off, dismissing her. Pyrrha turned, brushed one of her long, red hairs from her face and walked down the platform. She was still fuming and upset, so she decided to calm down by breaking some rocks. She quickly walked over to the gravel pit, grabbed the nearest available pickaxe, and began chipping at a large stone. She tried to inhale every time she lifted the pick and exhale every time she dropped it, hoping to start a breathing pattern that would soothe her mind. However, images of Professor Branwen, her parents, and Headmaster Calavera would flash in her mind, and she would begin striking the stone faster and with more force until she calmed down again. The rock broke, and she scooted over to begin chipping away at another one.

As she continued to chip away at the stone, she heard footsteps crunching the gravel and pebbles approaching her. At first, she was afraid that it was Professor Branwen, but they were too light to be his; they sounded more like the footsteps of someone about her size.

Casually, Pyrrha glanced up to see a handsome boy with blonde hair walking towards her. He looked about her age, although he was a bit shorter. As he stepped closer, she realized that his focus was on her.

"Hey," he said, coming to a stop about a foot and a half from her. He reached up and brushed his hair from his face.

Pyrrha grunted, annoyed. "What do you want?" she asked.

The boy cleared his throat and continued. "My name's Jaune. Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it."

Pyrrha scoffed in disbelief. He was just another pervert. She glared at him sourly. "Do they?" she asked sarcastically and bitterly.

The boy adjusted his footing, clearly taken somewhat aback by her statement. "Well, I mean…" He paused as if trying to come up with an answer, but decided to change the subject. "You're Pyrrha, right?"

Pyrrha looked down at the rock she had been mining. "What's left of her," she said coldly.

Jaune cleared his throat again. "Well, I saw you sparring, and I'm really impressed. You really kicked that guy's butt." Pyrrha scoffed quietly. It was not often to hear someone use juvenile language like "butt" instead of vulgarity like "ass". Was he trying to be civil around her?

Jaune smiled slightly. "I'll bet you're a star pupil," he said.

Pyrrha's eyes widened and she dropped her pick. Thoughts and emotions ran through her head as she heard the words, and time seemed to slow as she swung her head to glare at the boy, all while her fist tightened and she pulled her arm back. Time then sped up as she threw the punch directly into the side of Jaune's face, striking him right on the cheekbone. The blow was so powerful, Jaune was slammed down onto the ground, collapsing painfully into the gravel.

The other children looked up at the occurrence, intrigued but unsurprised by the violence.

Jaune gingerly cupped his cheek, hissing slightly from the sting. "Ow…" he whimpered.

"Who the f*ck do you think you are?!" Pyrrha shouted. "F*ck you! You're just another godsdamn pervert who just wants my body, just like every other bastard in here!" She stomped her feet. "Leave me alone!" Panting, Pyrrha looked up to see eyes from all around the pit staring at her. She glanced back down at Jaune, who looked hurt. Not so much physically, but emotionally. He looked at her with an expression she was unfamiliar with. It almost looked apologetic. Pyrrha turned and ran, sprinting back towards the building. She did not stop running until she made it to her room.

Pyrrha lay in her ratty cot, thinking about the boy from the other day. She could not stop thinking about his expression, as if it carried genuine concern for her. Pyrrha kept attempting to shake it from her mind, continually telling herself that he was just a pervert like everyone else. However, as much as she tried to convince herself, she could not seem to hate the boy as much as she did everyone else.

There was a loud snore. Pyrrha sighed. Her roommate, a sickly spider Faunus girl named Trifa, had a bad habit of snoring that had kept her awake most of the night. Pyrrha assumed she could smother the girl in her sleep with a pillow, which would work if they had been given pillows.

Trifa snored again, and Pyrrha decided there would be no sleep tonight. Children were not allowed to wander the halls after dark under penalty of being locked in the pillory, so Pyrrha simply got up out of her cot and walked over to the center of the room. Quietly, she began practicing her punches and kicks, pretending that there was an opponent in the thin air in front of her.

Suddenly, Pyrrha was startled by a shuffling outside of the door. Her heart stopped, as she figured Professor Branwen was outside, waiting to barge in and have his way with her. She froze in fearful anticipation, waiting for the intrusion.

Instead, there was a soft knock on the door. It was just loud enough so that Pyrrha could hear it, but quiet enough not to wake Trifa. Pyrrha was still afraid that someone unsavory was on the other side, but her curiosity had quickly gotten to her. Slowly and carefully, she tiptoed towards the door, careful not to make any noise. She reached out and grabbed the handle. The doors were kept unlocked, as if the faculty wanted students to break the rules so that Headmaster Calavera would have an excuse to kill more children. Cautious not to make even the slightest noise, Pyrrha slowly opened the door.

"Hey there," a familiar voice said.

Pyrrha gasped in shock. In the doorway stood the boy, Jaune Arc, from the other day. He waved slightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Pyrrha said in a hushed yell. "You'll be locked up for being out after dark!"

"I wanted to see you again," Jaune whispered back.

"Why?" Pyrrha demanded.

Jaune shrugged. "Well, you seemed really upset the other day, and I just couldn't help but think you might need someone. You know, just to talk to or something."

Pyrrha was bewildered. This fool really had the nerve to not only sneak out at night to find her, but wanted to talk to her? What was he thinking?

"What makes you think I need anyone?" Pyrrha growled. "Why are you acting this way? You just trying to get into my pants?"

Jaune looked at her with a confused and hurt expression. "I'm twelve," he said. "Why are you even thinking like that? You look to be around my age."

"Because that's what everyone else wants!" Pyrrha said, getting slightly louder.

Jaune stared, still looking confused for a moment, before softening his expression. "I'm not going to lie to you, Pyrrha," he said in a tone that was so soft and kind that it caught Pyrrha off-guard. "I approached you the other day because I thought you were pretty. I came back tonight because I'm concerned. Despite what anyone might have told you, not everyone here wants to hurt you."

Pyrrha opened her mouth to say something, but remained silent. She thought about it for a moment. The man who had convinced her of that was the one who had lied to her for two years. Even if he was not entirely lying, he may not have been entirely truthful either.

Jaune looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry for bothering you. If you don't want to deal with anyone else, I'll leave you alone. I apologize." He began to turn to leave.

"Wait!" Pyrrha said somewhat loudly. She cupped her hand over her mouth when she realized her volume. She quickly checked to see if she had woken Trifa, but the girl was still asleep. She looked back to Jaune, who was also checking the hall to make sure no one was headed down towards them.

Pyrrha sighed, then motioned to Jaune. "Come in here. Quick, before somebody sees you." Jaune obeyed, and Pyrrha shut the door quietly. After she was done, she turned to face Jaune and crossed her arms.

"Why would you come to talk to me?" she asked, still in a hushed yell. "I punched you in the face."

Jaune rubbed his cheek. "Yeah," he said. "Still hurts."

"Then why did you come back?" Pyrrha demanded.

Jaune shrugged again. "Well, I guess because you punched me in the face," he replied.

Pyrrha lowered her arms. "Huh?" she asked. Was he coming to fight her for hitting him? His previous statements did not seem to support that.

Jaune cleared his throat. "Even before you punched me, I knew something was wrong. You punching me was when I knew that, whatever it was, it was bad enough that I wanted to help you with it."

Pyrrha huffed. "And why would you want to do that?"

"Why?" Jaune asked. "Is it wrong to help someone you think is hurting?"

Pyrrha kicked her feet. "In here it is," she said solemnly.

Jaune nodded. "I can't argue with that. But I've been without any positive emotion for so long… I've beaten up kids much smaller than me, and I've watched dozens die and hundreds more be punished. And after a while, it stopped bothering me. But I figured… if I could maybe do one nice thing for someone, even if it was just as simple as hearing what they have to say to me, maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Pyrrha said, raising an eyebrow.

"…maybe I'd get some of my humanity back."

Pyrrha stared at Jaune, not really sure what to think. She was still bewildered, but was not nearly as angry as she had been earlier.

"Do you want to feel human again too, Pyrrha?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha felt her heart skip a beat when he asked the question. She felt sick to her stomach, and her skin grow frigid. She had built up a reputation the past few years of being cold, and now that she felt some warmth, her body was rejecting it.

Pyrrha let out a long sigh and dropped her arms. "Yes," she said meekly. She felt a tear run down her cheek.

Jaune stepped a little closer. "Well," Jaune said, "then let me help you. What's wrong?"

Pyrrha looked up at him. "It's a long story, and very unpleasant," she warned.

Jaune scoffed affably. "I know unpleasant," he said.

Pyrrha nodded slowly. "If I tell you all of this, will… will you tell me your story?"

Jaune looked surprised, but nodded. "Sure," he replied. "If you want to, we'll help each other for the rest of the time we're here. We'll be there for each other."

Pyrrha paused, then walked over to her cot and sat down on it. Jaune followed, and sat down next to her. Pyrrha checked Trifa one last time, then sighed and began to talk.

"Jaune," she began, saying his name for the first time, "do you believe in destiny?"

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