Shut Up and Save The World



"I'm gonna live through this even if it kills me stone dead!"

WARNING! Contains mild profanity, curses, and random violence. Read at your own risk.

Description: For every legend, comes a beginning. Comes in two parts:

Part 1: Brown: A Common Thread (OC Character)

Part 2: RWBY

PREFACE
Hello! This is a short preface by the author, Hallucinia (you can see my progile here ( http://rwbyfanon.wikia.com/wiki/User:Hallucinia ). I'll be talking about why I decided to write it, what's going to happen next, yadda yadda. If you want action, skip right to PART 1.

I discovered Monty Oum's awesome new series just a few days ago, coinciding with the release of the Yellow Trailer (how cool is that)! I have to say, I got addicted to the concept but was frustrated by the lack of content available, with the release still a month away. So, I decided to fill in the universe with my own thoughts and so began writing my second ever fanfic. Cheers!

I wanted to write this fiction because I fell in love with the main characters, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang. I wanted to make them into real, breathing people and have them interact with each other and the world! The thing was, I didn't have a clue on how to begin the thing (due to the lack of content...) and didn't have quite a good handle on each of the characters: so then, I created an OC character, dropped him into a wholly unknown world, and sent him off exploring. As he goes along, I make up the world and the plot marches on, so by the time all the main RWBY characters are introduced, the plot is set, the world is right, and then we can all focus on what we came here to read: TEAM RWBY!

By PART 2, our good old smuggler friend will no longer be a main character. But no worries: good ol' Jackson will always have special place in my heart.

-Hallucinia out!

Presenting....

PART 1: BROWN: A Common Thread
Chapter 1: Luck of the Devil

 THE branch next to Jackson’s head shattered as a bullet struck it, sending tiny pieces of bark into his face.

 “Jay-zus!”

 Jackson was not a man one could easily forget. His line of work didn’t allow it. Conning people was an art; it was lying to their faces and expecting them to swallow it. A timid man would find it hard to pull off. To Jackson, it was, of course, natural.

 With his brown coat, brown pants, brown hair and brown eyes, Jackson resembled a piece of walking leather. Called by those who knew him a “lost cause” or “bad egg,” he was completely unrepentant and had broken the law more times than he could count, despite his status as a young adult. It was his personal point of view that if people were stupid enough to fall for his tricks, they completely deserved whatever they got. As a result, he had made few friends and moved towns every few weeks to save his neck.

 Recoiling, he lost grip of the reins of his horse as he attempted to navigate blind through the autumn forest. For a brief, terrifying second, it seemed as if he was about to lose control, but he caught the reins again in the nick of time and ducked under another branch. Turning, he called back at his pursuers.

 “What’s the big idea, sheriff? Is this how you treat folk trying to make a living?”

 The leader of the mob of very angry men chasing him raised his pistol and took another shot. This time, Jackson was prepared and weaved.

 “You damn ass, Jackson, I told you that if you ever showed your face in town after that stunt you pulled, you were going to the rope! I’m gonna take your heartstrings for my banjo when I blow you stone dead!”

 Amazing, Jackson mused. It looked as if the sheriff had taken a bag of peanuts to the head, so red was his face.

 “Not my fault those fat aristocrats lost it, sheriff! I did tell them not to overdose on the goods!”

 “Shut it! When I get my hands around your pale flabby neck, Jackson, I’ll—”

 The rest of his words were swallowed away as a well-aimed bottle exploded against the sheriff’s head, knocking him out. Jackson cackled as the sheriff slumped off his horse.

 “Told the bastard my stuff would knock’em stone cold.”

 He leaned forward, leaving his pursuers in a storm of dust and leaves.

 It was night when Jackson began to slow. It had been a long day, and even under the threat of impending death, he needed a rest. Leaping off his stolen horse, he began to survey his surroundings.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Looks decent.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He turned over to his four-legged companion.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “You wouldn’t betray me in my sleep, would you?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He petted the horse on the head.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “There, that’s a good girl.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He began setting up for the night.

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal"> JACKSON was awoken by the sound of twigs snapping. He jerked up, but it was too late.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Gotcha, you lowlife!"

<p class="MsoNormal"> His head exploded in white stars as something heavy connected with it.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Ggggh!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> “This is your last run, Jackson! After today, you will answer to the law!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> A red-haired tough planted a boot on his chest. Behind him, three other policemen stood, their hands on their sidearms.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Got any last words?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson moaned.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “God have mercy…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The redhead laughed.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “He will. That is, after I’ve finished with you!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson grinned.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “No, I mean on you!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson reached up and grabbed the squealing idiot by the crotch, and pulled the fool down over himself. Scrambling up, he held the redhead as a living shield.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Lord, they get dumber every time.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He drew out his own sidearm.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Look, gentleman of the law: we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the fun way. As in, fun for me.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson pointed the gun at his prisoner.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “So, how about this: you give me a 10 minute head start, and as compensation, I’ll leave this twit alive. Good?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> One policeman hissed.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “How will we know the second you’re out of sight, you won’t just blow his brains out anyways?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson paused. This one was smart. He then sighed dramatically.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Fine: I’ll leave my horse here. There’s no way in hell that I’ll be able to escape you guys on foot, so you’ll know whether to add the crime of manslaughter to my head or not. Deal?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The men hesitated. Jackson hissed. He did not have time for this.

<p class="MsoNormal"> BANG!

<p class="MsoNormal"> He fired his gun over their heads.

<p class="MsoNormal"> "Yes? Or no?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The policemen as one, nodded hesitantly. Jackson smirked, and began backing away.

<p class="MsoNormal"> "Knew you were gentleman.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> OF course, right when he was out of sight, he clubbed the twit unconscious. It only took him about two or three tries, but after he had knocked the idiot out, and clubbed him again for good measure, Jackson began to run. Sure, he had gotten out of a bind—but it was a stopgap measure at best. As he saw it, this time, there was no easy way out; at least, until he almost fell into a large pit.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “What the?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Swiftly, he began to uncover it. It was a wide pit, around two meters in diameter, and as far as Jackson could tell, very, very deep. He looked back, and sighed.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Screw this, I ain’t got a chance otherwise.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Feeling as if this was going to be a momentous event in his life, he leapt into the void.

<p class="MsoNormal">  …

<p class="MsoNormal"> THE first feeling was one of overwhelming darkness. Then, there was rushing wind. Then sheer utter terror, as he kept on going.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “OHHHH MY GAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWDDDDD!!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson screamed for what felt like eternity before being abruptly banging on the surprisingly soft ground. He looked up, at the tiny circle of light that was the entrance, and started laughing nervously at his lucky break.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Blockheads never gonna figure that out.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He began to blindly feel his coat for his matches. After a minute or two, he finally located them. The sudden light blinded him for a second, but as he transferred it to a wooden stick he had found, his eyes began to adjust. Jackson looked at the vast cave system, and sighed.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Now, to get out of here with my ass intact…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> As far as Jackson could tell, the tunnel seemed to have formed from some sort of ancient underground river—it was a tubular thing. The air was damp, and there where stalactites and stalagmites everywhere. Jackson began walking down the lower end, where the river would have led to if it had still been active. By his reasoning, it was more likely to have an exit; and it would be easier to walk down, anyways.

<p class="MsoNormal"> It was dark, it was dank, it was boring. So Jackson began whistling a few old tunes he had picked over the years to pass the time. So preoccupied was he that it took him a minute or two to notice the atmosphere get drier and drier.

<p class="MsoNormal"> This was it, he thought. This was the exit. After the all the time spent in the infernal damp darkness, he was almost tempted to try and run for the damn opening. But his years of living where the light of law did not exist had taught him that it was better to be careful: the exit wasn’t going to move anytime soon, after all. It would suck royally for him to trip and impale himself on a stalagmite now, when he had finally extricated himself from the law’s eager fingers. As he mused on where the tunnel was leading him, he noticed his breath was beginning to mist.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Huh?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He shrugged. It was probably just the effects of the cave. But as he continued forward, his unease began to mount—slowly by slowly, he began to feel the temperature drop.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Just what the hell is this?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He began to shiver. The atmosphere was taking a toll on his imagination, he reasoned. It was impossible…

<p class="MsoNormal"> A drop of water fell on his head.

<p class="MsoNormal"> He looked up—and stopped, flabbergasted. It was a huge icicle! With dawning horror, he began to look around him. All the stalactites and stalagmites he had been walking across the past few minutes were entirely made of ice. Jackson stopped whistling. His unease spiked.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Something’s not right here…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He began to run. After a few minutes, there was finally a change in light. Desperate by now, he began sprinting, dodging the icicles, in an effort to reach the mouth.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The sight that greeted him left Jackson utterly dumbfounded.

<p class="MsoNormal">  …

<p class="MsoNormal"> IT was a silver, snowy forest. Gone was the sight of autumn, with its orange leaves and piney scent. Now, the air was crisp with cold and everything was covered by a pristine white.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson, terrified, confused, slumped down to his knees.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “How…this…this is impossible!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He looked around wildly. This had to be some sort of dream. Or...

<p class="MsoNormal"> He looked at the bottles tucked away in his overcoat. Surely he broke a couple in the fall, and the alcohol fumes were messing in his brain, right? He gave a weak laughed, and retrieved one to take a swig.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “It’s the old booze dream again…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Then he heard a growl.

<p class="MsoNormal">  …

<p class="MsoNormal"> JACKSON froze. Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, he turned around…

<p class="MsoNormal"> Face to face with a giant wolf . There was a second of silence, as Jackson’s mind tried to process what it was seeing. Then it opened its maw wide, wider than Jackson imagined possible, and howled. Jackson stood, screamed, and fell back, scrabbling for his sidearm.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The wolf snapped its teeth and stood on two legs. Jackson’s wits fled him completely at this point and it was all he could do to avoid voiding his bladder in sheer, utter terror.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “WEREWOLF!”

<p class="MsoNormal">  He sobbed in mindless fear, and tried to run, his body fueled by superstitious dread. A burst of pain tore through his back as the beast lashed out, trying to bisect the man. Jackson was sent flying, his elixirs and bottles shattered, the glass digging into his flesh—but he payed it no heed. All that he was focused on was getting the hell away. As the wolf lunged a second time, Jackson rolled over, enduring the searing agony as the glass pieces dug deeper into his skin. Stumbling back, his hand closed around something cold and metal. The werewolf lunged a third time and Jackson held up the piece of metal to defend himself.

<p class="MsoNormal"> BANG!

<p class="MsoNormal"> His pistol discharged. The werewolf stumbled back, reeling from the unexpected pain. The shock of the blast broke Jackson from his terror-induced stupor, and moving faster than he had ever had, he stood up, aimed, and fired.

<p class="MsoNormal"> BANG!

<p class="MsoNormal"> The werewolf stumbled back another step, recoiling instinctively from the roar of the pistol. Jackson began to grin manically.

<p class="MsoNormal"> How’d you like that! And THAT! AND THAT!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> BANG! BANG! BANG!

<p class="MsoNormal"> He began pouring bullet after bullet onto the nightmare before him, advancing all the while, running on pure bravado. The werewolf, having enough, began to turn tail and run.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “That’s right, you pup! Go back to your mama before I take your guts for my shoestrings!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson began to whoop, firing his pistol after the werewolf’s retreating figure. He stood for a second, then slumped down, utterly drained.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “It’s going to be a long night.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal">  T took Jackson perhaps an hour to get larger of the glass pieces out and finish treating the largest wounds with what little medicine he had left. Although exultant in the beginning, running off the initial high of beating a creature from legend, a werewolf no less; after the high, he was left with only bleak facts. He was stranded in an area he had no idea about, no equipment, no proper clothing and worse of all, he was bleeding all over the ground in an area where werewolves were running around. He would be lucky to survive this first night. A fire would keep him warm for the time being, but when the matches ran out…

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson shook his head. He would keep walking. He would continue on. He had been in worst situations. There was the time, for example, when he was trapped in the gaol with the noose waiting for him, and against all odds, he had escaped! There had been the time when the circus he was in had been set on fire, but he had escaped that, too! All of that was just as bad…right?

<p class="MsoNormal"> The realization of just how utterly screwed he was hit him.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Ah, crap.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Sighing, Jackson began to compose an epitaph for his grave.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The wind blew on.

<p class="MsoNormal">  …

<p class="MsoNormal"> AFTER the third verse, Jackson decided that moping was going to be a horrible way to die. As one of his old smuggler friends said before the noose got him, ‘a man never dies till the devil’s got his balls.’ Jackson swore wouldn’t die. He would survive, as he always did, and he would make a profit out of it. Who knew? He might actually keep the money this time. Jackson grinned. Werewolves and demons. He knew some rich nobles who would give their left arms to go on a hunt in a place like this. Now, if only he had a clue on where to go…

<p class="MsoNormal"> With a jerk, he realized, despite the darkness, he could actually still see perfectly. Curse the damn mutt! Jackson realized he was suffering from the effects of blood loss, and his most potent weapon, his mind, was not working at its full capacity. He should have noticed a fact like that much sooner.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “So, them eggheads said the moon and the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, right? I’ll be able to figure out the directio…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> His voice trailed off as he looked up.

<p class="MsoNormal">'' The moon was broken. A full half of it had shattered off, leaving a crescent. ''

<p class="MsoNormal"> “…Oh boy, am I far from home.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Resigning himself, he picked a random direction, and began to walk.

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal"> LEFT, right. Left foot, right foot. Left, right. Left, right. The cold winds ate at his body, sapping his strength. Still, Jackson refused to stop, for he knew it was certain death to hesitate in a land like this. So tired was he, that it took his numbed mind a few minutes to realized that the landscape around him had changed.

<p class="MsoNormal"> He was in a clearing. There were no trees around here, and the whole ground was covered in black, white, and red.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Rose petals?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> As dull surprise registered in his mind, he began to take notice of the land around him.

<p class="MsoNormal"> It was a scene of devastation. Wolf pelts were scattered everywhere. Deep scratches covered the ground. Rose petals floated and tumbled between the skins, disturbingly like blood. And, between the petals and the skins, were the largest caliber shells Jackson had ever seen. He hurried towards the shells, anxious to see what he could salvage.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Holy mother…”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The shells were huge. As in, ‘barely able to hold in a hand’ big. What did they use, a cannon? Judging from whatever it was that fired the rounds, it was blatant overkill. The clearing was liberally scattered with wolf pelts everywhere. Most of them were so mutilated that it would be lucky if he had enough material to use as a handkerchief. He walked over to one of the larger skins, and picked it up.

<p class="MsoNormal"> This one showed no signs of burns. It was, instead, sliced cleanly in half. Slowly but surely, a picture of the assailant grew in his mind, as Jackson mentally reconstructed the events that led to the death of an entire werewolf pack.

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal"> THE assailant was huge, well over two meters in height. Bald, his face was covered in scars and tattoos. Two cruel blue eyes grinned from their sockets. When he moved, his muscles rippled obscenely like waves. In one hand, he held an arm cannon. In the other, he was armed with an enormous claymore. He gave off such an aura of killing power that even the werewolves who faced him hesitated slightly before committing to attack. The largest of the wolves, the alpha, bristled at this blatant challenge to his supremacy. He gave a howl, and charged the man.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The Wolfcrusher (yes, Jackson thought, that name suited the mental picture of the man completely) laughed, and fired his arm cannon right in the werewolf’s face, blowing his head clean off. As the alpha’s headless body flew back, the other werewolves were already charging. The Wolfcrusher laughed, and with a single sweep, bisected three. He raised his arm cannon again, and blasted off three shots of such killing power that he was pushed back, leaving deep gouges in the snow. Laughing evilly all the while, the brutal Wolfslayer commenced the slaughter of the entire werewolf pack with extreme, ruthless efficiency.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Then…

<p class="MsoNormal"> It was here that Jackson’s imagination faltered. The Wolfcrusher had killed all the werewolves, yes. Then...

<p class="MsoNormal"> He started scattering rose petals , cleans all the wolf pelts and…just leaves them there?

<p class="MsoNormal"> His mind was suddenly interrupted by a ridiculous image of Little Red Riding Hood prancing around with her basket throwing roses and bullets in the air. He allowed himself two seconds to laugh at the preposterous mental image and shook his head.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Well, whoever that mean bastard was, his loss is my gain.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Whistling to himself, he began to pick up the wolf pelts. As he did so, his right foot stepped on something that went crunch.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Huh?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He leaned down, and picked up…a red canteen?

<p class="MsoNormal"> If it was indeed one, it was the strangest canteen he had ever seen. Made of red metal, the canteen was totally open on the top.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “How the hell does someone try to drink out of this?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He shrugged. Perhaps the Wolfslayer had a big mouth. He mentally added a mouthful of filed teeth to his mental image, just to be on the safe side. Sticking the thing into his ragged coat, he went back to work collecting the pelts.

<p class="MsoNormal"> It took the rest of the day, but by then, he had managed to make a decent cloak with the pelts. To his surprise, the ones that weren’t mutilated beyond belief proved to be surprisingly high-quality insulators, and for the first time he had gotten here, he had had a decent night’s sleep.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The next day, he stood up, yawning, and began stretching until a flash of pain swept over his body.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Ughh!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> His hands flew reflexively to the side where the glass shards had penetrated, and came away with dark, red blood. Jackson ground his teeth with frustration. Apparently, his careless stretching had reopened the wounds. Well, he knew the perfect cure for that; he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. Toasting it to the sky, he called out.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “God above, you have a cruel sense of humor, but at least you knew not to touch the booze."

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson took a deep swig, and immediately spat out the liquid. It was cod liver oil.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Damn the Trinity!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now. Grumbling, he began to pack up.

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal"> OVERNIGHT, the snowfall had ceased entirely. He could clearly see the tracks he had made yesterday, and it only took a couple of minutes to find all of his possessions. With a clear head, he began to take stock of his situation.

<p class="MsoNormal"> It was better than before, but things were still balanced on a knife’s edge. He was hurt: not bad enough to hamper his movement, but given time, it could develop into a real problem, especially if it got infected. He was lost, in the middle of nowhere, with limited food: but at least he had found a way to conserve heat, and now that he thought about it, the werewolf hide would most probably mask his own scent and prevent him from becoming dog food. And, of course, he had discovered that, at the very least, humans (if crazed and homicidal) lived around here.

<p class="MsoNormal"> At the very least, he was no longer in danger from the noose. That was always a plus.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Well, it’s day now. Let’s hope old father sun’s up there, watching down on us.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He looked up, hoping against hope that the sky would, just once, be normal.

<p class="MsoNormal">  “…You gotta be kidding me.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> A bright round object hung in the sky, serenely. It was big, it was yellow.

<p class="MsoNormal">'' But it wasn’t a sun. It was the moon. But in a different color. ''

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson sighed.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Shame bout the weather.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson continued across the unforgiving landscape.

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal"> JACKSON had been trudging aimlessly for perhaps an hour before he saw the single pair of tracks. They were deep, heavy things, clearly the mark of some large load.

<p class="MsoNormal">'' Supplies…people! ''

<p class="MsoNormal"> Blood roared into his head, and he felt his mind crystallizing, focusing. This was a tremendous stroke of luck. Judging from the way the snow had been freshly plowed, they were perhaps less than an hour away. For a group to travel alone in this deserted land, they must have brought supplies, food, medicine! Judging by the heavy load, they might even have an extra horse for him to steal, which would drastically improve his chances.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson grinned. Fortune, it seemed, had finally seen fit to bless him. As his body began to run, so did his mind begin to race with the warmth of trepidation.

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal"> EVEN from a distance, the carriage looked imperious. Large enough to hold perhaps ten men and all their belongings, it was pure black and had a twelve-pronged snowflake sigil stamped onto its side. In the front, an elderly man with long ponytail stood, strong despite his age, dressed in an elegant suit. He was guiding the eight gunmetal-grey horses that pulled the carriage across the snow.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Clearly, it belonged to someone rich or important. Hopefully, Jackson thought, it was both. From his hiding spot, he squinted, trying to make out the presence of any guards.

<p class="MsoNormal"> None. Just an old man, and whoever was inside. The rich idiots probably relied on their status to protect them around here.

<p class="MsoNormal">'' Perfect. ''

<p class="MsoNormal"> From his vantage point, Jackson grinned, and pulled the cloak around him tighter, obscuring his features. It wouldn’t do for him to rob the nitwits and be caught the first time he stepped into a town store because his face was plastered on wanted posters. No, he was far too smart for that. Readying his pistol under the cloak, he began to stroll over to the caravan. Jackson called out.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Sir! Sir!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The old man glanced at him, eyes cold and unreadable. The horses, however, did not slow down.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Excuse me, kind master, but I am a lost and tired traveler. Plea—”

<p class="MsoNormal"> With a hand, the old man cut Jackson off. Turning his eyes away, he replied curtly.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “This is Schnee family business. No—”

<p class="MsoNormal"> BANG!

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson fired his pistol right in front of the old man’s face. Instantly, the manservant stiffened, then turned his icy gaze upon Jackson. As the gunshot echoed through the forest, the eight horses came to a stop. Jackson whistled at the mechanical precision with which they had halted—they hadn’t even flinched at the gunshot! He really needed one of these. Well, it seemed his wish was coming true. Meeting the manservant’s eyes, Jackson spoke. He tried to keep his voice controlled, but failed miserably as finally, a day’s worth of stress uncorked itself.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “This is a robbery—nothing personal. We can do this the nice way, or we can do this the not-so-nice way; and when I say not-so-nice, I mean for you."

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson gestured with the gun. By this time, Jackson was grinning like an idiot. He couldn’t help himself.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Now, just tell everyone inside the carriage to get out, hands raised, and stand in a nice straight line while I flip through the back. I promise, I’ll be careful not to track mud on your silken bedsheets, or break some three thousand dollar vase. In fact, I’ll leave everything except for your pride intact. Oh, and untie the horse.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson gestured at the one closest to him.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “I’ll be taking this one.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> For a second, there was silence, as the old man examined him. Jackson was actually slightly worried that he might have to shoot the manservant somewhere painful before he complied with his demands. Before he reached that point however, he was interrupted.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Walter, what’s wrong?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> A light, melodious voice wafted from inside the carriage. Jackson was surprised. He hadn't expected the carriage to be carrying a young girl. In his mind, it was more likely some fat merchant or pompous noble was inside. Still, his heart hardened at what he had to do. Whoever the girl was, she was probably some kind of spoiled brat. She wasn’t going to die from a couple missed meals anyway, whereas he, Jackson, was in a position where there really was a danger of dying.

<p class="MsoNormal"> For the first time in the entire conversation, a flash of emotion flickered across Walter’s face as he looked at the carriage.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Nothing, Lady Weiss. Just a small inconvenience.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> For a second, Jackson was utterly flabbergasted. When he realized the old man was not joking, he began to giggle.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Um…sir?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson spoke in a mock respectful tone.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “I don’t know if you’ve gone senile, but this piece of very fine metal I am holding in my hand is called a pistol. It is a gun, as in a device that shoots tiny pieces of metal at very high speeds. If I wanted to kill you, there is literally no force in the world that could possibly save you.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He indicated a bump in the snow.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Pretend my foot is the metal piece, and that bump your head. Observe.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson stepped on the bump, sending snow scattering everywhere. He raised an eyebrow at the old man.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “I think you get the point.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Whatever reply Walter was going to give was cut off by a shuffling sound.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Walter, I’m coming out now. Let me take care of this.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> A stunningly beautiful girl stepped out of the carriage. For a second, Jackson was thrown: it almost seemed like some kind of ethereal winter spirit had descended to earth. Delicate, she was clothed in a dress of purest white that gradually tapered off into blue around the edges, with a highlight of red around the inside of the collar. Around her neck was a simple but elegant pendant of dark jade. She was wearing clipped steel-grey rectangular earrings, and her hair was done in an off-center ponytail, upon which was set a silver tiara. Hanging of her right hip was an incredibly ornate ceremonial rapier, and her legs were bare, despite the cold; she wore white mid-calf wedge-heeled boots. What jumped out to him however were her soft, light blue eyes, which across the left ran an old scar. They spoke hidden depths and deep yearnings. Despite the aura of a shrinking violet she seemed to give off, however, Jackson was not fooled for an instant. There was steel in this one, hidden under a layer of velvet. Still, despite everything, he was confident he could take this brat on. Jackson grinned under his hood, and gave a mock bow. Today then, would be her first test.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Pleased to make your acquaintance, mademoiselle. I am truly sorry that we could not meet under better circumstances, but fate compels me to go down this road. It saddens me, but I have no choice but to speak these words.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson intentionally drew out the pause.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Your money or your life!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Even the girl—Weiss, was that her name? could hear the sarcasm, and the threat, in Jackson’s voice. Her eyes hardened. Behind her, the manservant positively bristled at the tone Jackson was using. Still, she gave no indication of any insult given or any threat offered. She met Jackson’s eyes coolly.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Traveler, we have no quarrel with you. If something my manservant or I have done has offended you, then accept my apology and go. If it is supplies you need, we can provide for you. Let none speak of the Schnee family as misers or tyrants.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Begrudgingly, Jackson allowed himself to feel the tiniest sliver of respect for the girl. This one had guts, and a way with words too. He thought about it for a second, and sighed. He pointed his pistol down towards the ground.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Look, if you had said that in the beginning, we could have avoided all the unpleasantness.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson gave a very pointed glance to Walter. Walter did not deign to respond to the barbed comment. Weiss ignored the exchange, focusing on Jackson.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “I’m just a lost traveler, seeking some things to make his life a little better. I’ll need a map, some medicine, a little food, a warm set of clothing, and couple hundred dollars. Really, not a lot for people like you.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Weiss nodded, and spoke to her manservant, never taking her eyes off Jackson.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Walter, please, bring the traveler what he requests.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Walter glanced, almost disbelievingly, at his mistress.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Lady, are you sure? There is no—”

<p class="MsoNormal"> “What harm would it do to bring a weary traveler items that would aid him in his travails? Is not the Schnee family famed for their kindness and generosity?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson, by now, could hardly keep himself from laughing. Oh, this girl was a professional, all right. When her butler had challenged her, she had told him in the politest of terms to shut up and do as she commanded and totally flopped the situation from a humiliating robbery by a lone gunman to an event of charity from the ‘generous’ Schnee family to an unfortunate soul. This one was going to be a power player when she grew up, all right.

<p class="MsoNormal"> From the way Walter’s eyebrows came together, Jackson could tell he understood the full force behind the rebuke. Still, without betraying any other sign of emotion, he gave a short bow and began walking towards the carriage. Just before he entered however, Jackson spoke up again.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Oh yes, and I almost forgot; I’ll need transportation too. Untie that horse. I’ll be taking it.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> For a second, Jackson thought Walter was going to say something, but he restrained himself and entered the carriage. Weiss closed her eyes for a second then looked at him again, this time with a different expression. Jackson couldn’t quite place a finger on it, but it did not bode well.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “You are welcome to it, traveler.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson hesitated. There was a trick here, but he wasn’t getting it. There was no way he could back down now, however, least of all because one) he had attempted to mug them, and two) there just wasn’t anywhere else he could go. He met her challenge.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Then thank you for your understanding, mademoiselle.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> In saying that, he fired his pistol directly at the rope tethering one of the horses, severing it, hoping to at least draw a reaction that might give light to what she was planning. Weiss didn’t even budge. She merely gave him a look that screamed, “I know something you don’t” and gestured to the horse. Jackson shrugged. Well, it was worth a try. He sauntered over the horse, trying to look unconcerned even as his heart was racing. He reached out his hand, and petted it.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Who’s a good boy?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The horse ignored him. Jackson frowned. He mounted himself on the horse and patted its rear.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Giddy up.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> The horse didn't move. Jackson was growing desperate. Even if he had all the supplies he needed, without a mode of transportation, he would be done for. He threw caution to the wind—with sharp blow he whacked his horse on the head.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Go boy!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> His fist crunched against it with a metallic clang. The horse still didn’t budge.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Ahhh!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson screamed at the unexpected pain. He fell off the horse, landing in an unceremonious heap. Gritting his teeth, he glared at the girl.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “You! What did you—”

<p class="MsoNormal"> She was no longer paying him any attention, however, as a series of howls filled the air. Her hands had flown to her rapier and she was focused intensely on the dark forms approaching from the forest. Jackson’s eyes bulged out of their sockets as a formation of jet-black werewolves loped out, snarling. He had been so preoccupied robbing the carriage blind he had forgotten to keep a sharp lookout. Jackson screamed at her and began gesticulating wildly towards the other side.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “We’re going to die! Every man for himself! RUN!!!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Saying so, he began to flee in the opposite direction as fast as he could, not checking back to see if the others were following. If they were smart, they would be. If they weren’t, well, it was tough luck. For a second, he felt a flare of hope as he reached the edge of the clearing they were in, only to have it brutally crushed as four more werewolves loped out.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Oh crap!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> He turned tail and immediately began running back. By this time, the carriage had been completed surrounded by a circle of incredibly hungry werewolves and Jackson resolved himself to dying a horribly humiliating death, emphasis on horrible. At the very least, he was going to have some company in his misery. He began to giggle. Hahaha, misery loves company. He picked up his pistol and turned back to the girl, who, amazingly, had not moved a step, and had drawn out her rapier assuming a defensive stance. Well, Jackson was right about her having guts—too bad she wasn’t going to keep them for long. The ridiculousness of the sight of a delicate teenage girl shorter than him preparing to go toe-to-toe with a thirty something pack of 400-pound muscle-bound werewolves armed with a flimsy rapier combined with the bubbling hysteria in Jackson’s mind and caused him to start laughing shakily. If he was going to die, well, he was going to follow the girl’s example and do it in style. He spun his pistol, like a real gunslinger would, and withdrew a knife with his left hand. His hands were shaking.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Well, Lady! Let’s hope that toothpick of yours chokes at least one of them to death before they swallow us whole! I’d like to say it was nice knowing you, but hey! We’re all going to the same hell together. Better luck the next life, eh?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> For a second there was silence. Then, a clear huffing sound filled the air. Jackson looked back, incredulously, as he realized the girl was giggling, hiding her face under her sleeve as she laughed. Jackson shook his head, and aligned the sights of his trembling pistol with the head of the largest werewolf. He took a deep breath, and steadied his hand.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Girl’s gone mad.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Saying so, he fired.

<p class="MsoNormal"> BANG!

<p class="MsoNormal"> The bullet gouged a bloody furrow in the werewolf’s face, forcing it back a step. But even as Jackson fired, three other werewolves charged him from all directions. By now, any rational instinct had fled from Jackson’s mind. Any higher thought was blotted out as his mind shut down and he drew upon millions of years of evolutionary fight-or-flight response. He was running on pure survival instinct and adrenaline, and as the werewolves’ drew close, he answered the werewolves’ howls with a roar on his lips and countercharged. With power born of desperation, he stabbed his knife deep into the side of the first werewolf’s head, gritting his teeth as he heard the crunch of steel against bone. His momentum kept him going, and he body-slammed the beast and sent them tumbling across the snow. Jackson was spitting in blind fury. He stabbed the knife through the werewolf’s ear and into the ground, pinning it in place, and shoved his pistol into the werewolf’s face and began firing, point-blank, screaming all the while. He didn’t notice the black essence streaming out. He didn’t notice the werewolf’s frantic jerks. He didn’t even notice the pistol running out of ammunition as the werewolf gave a final shudder and died.

<p class="MsoNormal"> A burst of pain lit up Jackson’s world. Grunting, he flopped over, blood streaming from his side as a second werewolf bowled him over, frothing at the mouth in rage at what Jackson had done to its kin. Flecks of fetid drool splattered upon Jackson’s face and he screamed as the werewolf crushed his gun arm against the ground. As the werewolf dived for his throat, Jackson stabbed it through the mouth, skewering it shut. The monster backpedaled frantically, squealing in agonized fury, then turned tail and ran. Jackson stumbled up. His vision tunneled, focusing only on the last werewolf. It snarled. He snarled. It charged. Jackson charged.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Sound stopped. Time slowed. All that existed was Jackson and the wolf. The entire world looked like some sort of rose-tinted glass. Jackson was moving faster than he had ever moved, but to him, it was as if everything was moving as slow as molasses. The werewolf opened its jaws. Jackson narrowed his eyes, pivoted, and swung his left hand with all his power.

<p class="MsoNormal"> With a sickening crunch, his hand connected with the werewolf’s face. Waves of agony traveled down his arm as his bones broke, the momentum behind the two fighters so great. Jackson’s feet dug deep into the snow. The wolfman tumbled back, bleeding from its jaws, and lay still in the snow. It was out cold.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson stood for a second, trembling. Was it over? Had he won? He began to laugh.

<p class="MsoNormal"> There was a growl behind him.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Turning, unable to believe this horrendous turn of fate, he looked upon the twisted visage of the first werewolf he had wounded. Jackson moaned.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Oh no no no no no no no no no no!”

<p class="MsoNormal"> It sprang, hanging in the air with the yellow moon behind it, as if in slow motion. Jackson could see every individual scar on the werewolf, could count the number of its teeth, could see every inch of its lethal claws, but his body could not move.

<p class="MsoNormal"> There was a white blur.

<p class="MsoNormal"> The werewolf shattered into a million pieces of crystalline ice. Behind it, was Wiess.

<p class="MsoNormal"> She landed elegantly, like a dancer, rapier in hand. The crystal pieces rained softly down around her, like snow. Jackson stared stupefied. Behind her, the werewolf that Jackson had stabbed through the mouth keeled over suddenly, its whole body punctured with needles. Jackson turned over and looked at where the needles had come from. It was Walter, standing on top of the carriage, bag in one hand, needles betwixt his fingers in the other. He almost looked bored. Almost.

<p class="MsoNormal"> “What.”

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson looked behind him. The thirty werewolves were gone. The ground was filled with pieces of shattered ice. Jackson put two and two together and concluded he was in deep shit. He looked at Weiss, and began to smile nervously.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Her face was dead serious. Whatever mirth was there before was totally, completely gone. She took a step forward. Jackson took a step back. She took another step forwards. Jackson tripped over a rock and fell back in a tattered mess. He could only watch impotently as she raised her rapier and placed the very tip at his throat. Wind blew. Blood dripped. Their eyes met.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Jackson gurgled as something ice-cold penetrated his throat. Numbness spread rapidly from the point to the rest of his limbs. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. As he keeled over, he heard distantly, a girl’s voice speak.

<p class="MsoNormal"> Then there was darkness.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> …

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal"> “Lady, are you sure?”

<p class="MsoNormal"> “He attempted to rob us on Yalkovian lands. Let him be dealt with under Yalkovian law.”

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">

TO BE CONTINUED
Write the second section of your page here.