Monster in my Head

"It isn't the monsters that go bump in the night. Those can be shot, stabbed. Planned and plotted against. They have nothing on the darkness lurking within."

Beta: Setokaiva

Volume One, Chapter One—Signalling DeWitt

8-8

The computer screen blinks, updating the progress. Not that I have any clue what it's supposed to mean. It's all bars and numbers and colours and Os and Vs. Ah, right there at the bottom. Progress Assessment for one I. DeWitt, Signal senior.

"What the hell am I looking at?" I ask, sounding almost desperate to have answers.

The blonde seated in front of the computer swivels her chair, her reading glasses glaring up at me with a vengeance, not even noticing the fifteen other students in the computer lab around us or dust covering the otherwise pristine white desk where she lays her arm as she crosses her legs. "How are we friends again?"

"Because I make you look smart?" I give her a rakish grin, knowing it's going to grate on her.

Annoyed blue eyes narrow as her middle finger rights her glasses and pouty lips curl down into a frown. "This is your school profile. The thing you should know inside out, seeing as you've been studying here for the last four years."

"So. It's my report card?" The little vein between her eyebrows throbs, looking about ready to burst. I smirk, my violet eyes lit up with amusement. "Is it really important?"

"Is it…?" Her eyes widen, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline. From wide to narrow, she zooms her crosshairs onto me, scowling like I just peed on her favourite shoes or something. "This is your progress report. And you have less than a week to take all those little circles. You know, like the letter O. And check them off. You know, like those little Vs there?"

I take out my scroll and press the white spiral in the middle to unlock it; the upper grip jerks up, and the panel blinks to life showing my home screen. I click my student app and load the same screen, only in the format I actually fucking monitor.

Clicking to filter out all passed classes, I see only sniping with Professor Branwen and my final practical with Professor Xiao Long. "What's got your panties in a bunch? I've got like two tests and they're scheduled for today."

Tiff storms up to her feet, lightning crackling from her golden locks and arcing between her eyes. With balled fists and a nasty scowl, she grabs my uniform's collar and really gets in my face about it. "You lazy ass! That's only if you want to…"

"Yes, Tiff?" I smile. "Only if I want to…what?"

The arcing dials back, the static that probably has my silver buzz cut spikier than ever eases. Tiff shakes her head, groaning through clenched teeth. "You're impossible. You know that."

"Aw, come on. Don't be like that. Tell me. What am I trying to do?"

She waves her hand and the computer blinks back to the user log-in screen. "I'm going to have a front row seat. When. This blows up in your face." And like that, she storms out.

Always so easy to rile up.

8-8

Walking along the hallway, filled to the brim with giggling and gossiping as all the cute girls keep gushing about some guy or other. Sigh. Whatever. The puke green linoleum flooring is just as much an eyesore now as it was the day I arrived, not that the fire engine red lockers or the otherwise peach walls and sunflower yellow doors are any better. It looks like the decorator drank paint samples and retched on the blueprints.

I stop at my locker and dial in my forty-digit access code. Per the norm, some idiots over to one side gawk as my fingers dance over the keypad so fast their eyes can't quite figure out what keys I'm actually hitting.

"Welcome." The monotone and clearly mechanical voiced greeting is about as welcoming as a fiery welcome mat or spikes where the doorbell should be. Just the way I like it. But it's how the door doesn't click open that I like most.

I phase my hand through the metal and grab my combat bag, phasing that through to my side and slinging it over my shoulder. Those idiots spent the last years of their lives trying to figure out why I bother with the code that they can't figure out the purpose for. Heh.

"Hey, bra." An arm drapes over my shoulder. Hairy as all hell, per the norm. But the stink is new, and it has me blocking my nose to tone it down.

"Dude. You so need a bath." I shove Wenge off me, not needing that kind of crap just before my exams.

"I know, right. Man, Branwen was a total beast." Wenge's shaggy brown fur looks all kinds of matted, but I'm honestly not sure if Faunus are capable of sweating—never thought to ask, but it neither adds nor subtracts, so fuck it. "You best be on your toes, bra. I'm tellin' you. He's out for blood."

"This is…It's all so sudden." I pretend to blush, cupping my cheeks as if to hide it. He cocks an eyebrow, his ursine face not hiding a shred of his curiosity. "You do love me."

Wenge baulks, disgusted from the very thought. "You've been hanging out with Tulip again."

I chuckle, but don't comment. "Gonna be late. We hooking up later for drinks?"

"O' course! First round's on you, twinkle toes."

8-8

The firing range. It's a lot longer than I remember, for some reason. And I don't remember there being quite so many trees. Or shrubs. Or uprooted trees. Or trees broken in half. Strange. I've trained here more than anywhere else, but it's like I walked into a totally different training hall.

"The hell am I even looking at." The words flop off my tongue.

"Ivory!" I snap to attention, my spine ramrod straight. What is it with Branwen? He's always so fucking strict on me! "That's not the kind of language we tolerate from our students. Let alone a young lady like yourself."

Groan. "You'd think me walking around in a skirt for the last four years would have tipped me off, right?"

Branwen shakes his head and loosens his red tie. Dunno what's up with that. Never did understand the stupid uniforms around here. I mean, all school uniforms look more or less alike, but it's a combat academy! Why stick the girls in fucking skirts? Someone must have a pantyshot fetish or something.

"You're here for your sniper's exam." Branwen upends his little canteen, obviously needing a drink just now. How he hasn't been fired in my time here, I dunno. But I can't deny the man is good at what he does. "You need to locate six targets and take 'em out. But. You can't move from this spot." He points down, as if to accentuate his words. "Go."

I roll my eyes and drop my bag, unzipping and exposing the contents. "It'd be nice if just once you give me a second to gear up first."

"You should have walked in armed to the teeth. What would you do if you were attacked?" I roll my eyes. "Don't give me that. We both know you're applying to Beacon."

I grab Sun, still sheathed, and my holstered Moon, muttering under my breath as I go. "If I walk in here armed, I get scolded for being armed outside of training." I wrap my sash around my waist, nice and snug, and stuff my sword in there. "If I walk in here unarmed, I get scolded for not being ready." I ditch the brown jacket and slip my arms into my shoulder holster, making sure to stuff the empty pouch on my right side with magazines, each marked with a different colour. "That's fair."

"Hey, I don't make the rules."

I take out my pistol and fire off six rounds in quick succession. The tree vibrates with the power of each shot, but the targets hanging from its branches don't seem to care. Oh, really? Clicking out my magazine, I toss it into my bag, trade it for the red one from my pouch, pull back the slider, catch the errant cartridge which gets tossed into my bag, and aim again.

I squeeze the trigger. The target explodes in a huff of fire, taking all six down in one go. "Hmm." I grin.

"Don't look so pleased. I said sniper exam." Instead of the targets barely twenty metres from us, a speck on the edge of the long ass training hall draws my attention. "Sniper. As in long-range firing. Try again."

I groan and mutter about distractions under my breath.

"At what point in your sniper training did you fire at something so close?"

"It's called power calibration. This way I know the power requirement so I don't waste time wondering if my shots hit or not. You know, like you keep telling me?" I shake my head, holstering my pistol and twisting the little dial on my sword handle as I pull it out of my sash. It clicks out into her snake sword form and extends a few metres, the sheath clicks and slides before jerking back into her rifle form as I snap her to my shoulder, ready for action. The lens caps click up and the little dots are magnified. I fish out another magazine and stuff her into Sun's butt.

A little squeeze.

The target explodes into an inferno, taking all his little buddies with him. Just the way I like my marks.

Branwen sighs, shaking his head. "You need to expand your repertoire. Don't just work with fire dust, it'll make you predictable."

I smirk, clicking out the magazine and slapping in the mag marked with a rainbow. I squeeze, and another inferno. I squeeze, freezing the ashes of the target. I squeeze, the ice turns to stone.

Click out the mag and switch it for the cyan marked one. Fire, and the stone is covered in steam. This time, I wait for a second, to let the steam dissipate to show the stone completely unharmed. And I fire. A laser-like focused blast pierces the rock clean through, cracking it and tumbling pieces down into the treeline below.

I engage the safety and click Sun back into her sword form and sheathing her before stuffing her back into my sash. I make sure to keep my hand on Sun's grip, though. "You were saying?"

"Heh." Branwen smirks. I spin, kicking Professor Xiao Long before he slams into me. He grabs me by the shin, of course, but we both know I predicted he'd be there. "Well, Tai. She's all yours." Trading a fun brunet for a dull blond—what's the world coming to.

"Ivory." Xiao Long nods to me.

My leg phases through his grip and I back off to put some room between us. "Professor."

"Three rounds. Tap-spar rules." I smirk. There's always less guesswork in dealing with Xiao Long. "Seeing as this is your final exam. No kiddie gloves. I need to see your full potential."

"At what point in my training did you ever allow kiddie gloves?" Xiao Long smirks—hell, Branwen isn't doing much better, chuckling as he saunters off. "So we're clear. I pass this last test, and I'm allowed to be armed at all times? Even on premises?"

The professor cocks an eyebrow, no doubt wondering why I think I can distract him. This is gonna suck.

8-8

Wenge glares at me. Or is that a sneer? A grumpy pouty-glower? So many crystals and weapons magazines on display—hell, even the fridge with the see-through door is more interesting than me. Ignoring him I walk right over to the counter in the centre of the store, to the kindly old man smiling and nodding to show I have his attention.

"Afternoon. Need empty canisters for dust and a hard-light crystal." He motions around to one side, away from the burgundy and azure crystals that are no doubt the more popular to discuss. They're useful, don't get me wrong, but hard-light is armour penetration, or can be used that way, and that's what my Sun needs.

There are six on display, four of which are so tiny they could probably be used as earring gems. The one is so big it makes my head look small. I point to the second biggest. He nods and takes it out.

"Don't freak, I just need a size comparison." I unsheathe Sun and hold the grip beside the crystal, with the blade pointing away from him. The crystal is just slightly too large—perfect for what I need, since I risk material loss in cutting. Satisfied, I sheathe Sun, and nod. "I'll take it."

He nods and sets the crystal back for now. He motions me over to the back of the little box of displays he surrounds himself with. There are dozens of canisters for dust storage, all cylindrical. Some longer and thicker than my forearm, some looking more like my index finger.

"A shame you weren't here last month. It was half-off on support items." Sigh. Well, can't be helped. "We still have some secure briefcases in stock, if you're interested? For safe storage, you understand. Dust is…volatile."

Hmm. If I get accepted into Beacon, it means moving into new dorms, and that means a new game of roulette who I'm stuck with. That might mean my roommates are less pliable or respecting of my little dust experiments. "Got any with secure locks?"

The old man nods, no doubt pleased with an easy sale. With that handled, I pick up a few dozen boxes of cartridge cases and select a few canisters to get my own collection of dust—it's not like Signal will let me take a healthy stock now that I'm officially graduated.

Sigh.

"Ma says I better not show up without you." Wenge nudges me with his elbow, still hammering away at his scroll; no doubt texting his reply. "Says she's icing the cake."

A dry chuckle jumps up from nowhere, as I take six of the largest canisters, with two finger-sized vials, and head over to the dust receptacles. Hmm. I fill the two small ones with cyan—armour piercing is always useful, but frankly one of these little ones with cyan is as expensive as the larger ones with ice. Five of the larger ones are filled with primary dusts—fire, wind, water, lightning, earth, and gravity. The last gets filled with ice, since I tend to work most with it, and this way I won't have to mix it myself.

"Hey?" I look to Wenge, cocking an eyebrow. "Hook me up on some rounds?"

"Duh?" He chuckles, elbowing me just because he can. "You finally gonna let me revamp your baseball bat?" Annoyed grumbling is all I get. Satisfied the last canister is properly full, I mark it with the dust colour so I know what's in it and set it on the counter to be tallied, and I grab another box of cartridge cases, only not the ten-mil or .444 calibres I work with. No, Wenge needs his hundred-mil—the box comes with fifty, so that should be plenty.

Setting the last of it on the counter, the old man cocks an eyebrow. "I have no issue selling to Faunus. So if the young man desires anything…?"

Wenge chuckles, his eyes lit up with amusement. "Alright. You got some ice crystals for me?"

8-8

Wenge pops out a single claw, cutting the hard-light crystal along the lines he marked. The cyan crystal is carefully whittled down to the shape and size I need, the dozens of little scrapings and smaller cuts bunching on the white A4-sized cutting board as he works.

The dingy main room is cramped, with barely enough room for the tiny four-person square table and a two-seater couch. The tiny tv hung on the wall shows the usual talking heads discussing the latest news, with Mr Bruin sipping his beer as he berates the idiots for getting everything wrong—I haven't listened to a word of it, but I enjoy his running commentary all the same.

Tawny is curled up in her daddy's lap, her ursine ear pressed to his chest as she sleeps. Mrs Bruin, for her part is over in the kitchenette, washing the dishes with her back to us.

A clicking sound rings out as I snap the hundred-mil cartridge into Wenge's magazine, and mark it with an earthen brown sticker. Fucking drum mag is tall as Wenge's forearm and just as thick, but with the man himself almost double my height and so massive he makes me look like a toddler beside him? It fits.

One brown, one yellow, three red, one black. He has two more empty mags, though. Hmm. "You need more ice mags?"

"Couldn't hurt," Wenge murmurs, sticking out his foot-long pink tongue to one side as he works. My shoulders shiver as I grab my ice canister. "Buckshot please."

Mrs Bruin brings me a tall glass with fresh ice tea and the shallow bowls for the pellets I'll need to form. She kisses my crown and heads right back to drying the dishes.

A quick sip of the sweet, peach-flavoured heaven, I pour out the ice dust into the first bowl and dip my now moist hand into it. Little pea-sized pellets roll between my fingers and set in the empty bowl for later.

"There." Wenge holds up the cut crystal to the naked bulb overhead. "Whoo. Ain't you a beaut."

"Hey, baby bear?" I smirk, amused with the annoyed glare he fixes me with. I stick out my tongue, showing off my silver barbell tongue piercing. "Hook me up?" His eyes light up, the irritation long forgotten as he scratches his jawline.

8-8

The ship glides through the air like nothing's the matter. Wenge and I gaze out over Vale, at the tiny little buildings that usually seem so tall. My tongue piercing rubs against the roof of my mouth, the ice crystal so smooth it's hard to tell it was once jagged. Lucky me, he knows what he's doing. There's no way I'd put two crystals in my mouth otherwise.

"Stop playing with it." Wenge gets on my case. I roll my eyes, and get back to city-watching. And just to annoy him, I rub the bottom half against the roof of my mouth—the hard-light crystal somehow feeling even smoother. He shakes his head, no doubt knowing just what I'm doing.

"The robbery was led by the notorious criminal Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa."

Wenge and I share an annoyed look. There's no way they won't bring up the dumpster fire of a protest.

"…The once peaceful organization…"

"Drinks are on me." Wenge snorts, amused. The one bet I always fucking lose but keep making. It makes sense, though. His people are still treated like shit, so this is something I can do.

A soft whirr, and the hologram turns to some chick. "Hello and welcome to Beacon." The murmuring starts up, as people start the guessing game who that is. She looks like a total dominatrix with her devil's forked-tail cape and her curly blond hair, standing at attention. And those green eyes—I think I'm gonna melt. "My name is Glynda Goodwitch." And I've been a bad girl.

Wenge elbows me; I smirk—we both know what I'd happily let Goodwitch do to me.

"You are among a privileged few who've received the honour of being selected to attend this prestigious academy." Would she enjoy me in a naughty schoolgirl uniform? Hmm. Maybe she prefers the naughty nurse. "Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace and as future hunters and huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it."

Aw man. She sounds way less bawdy than I hoped. Then again, good girl could be her public persona, and I might well be the switch that flips her into full-on strap-on mode. I shiver at the thought.

"You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training needed to protect our world." The image fades, but not from my mind. I'll be using that for naughty time later.

"You're too much. You know that?" A rakish grin is all he gets outta me.

Some blond ass pukes up a lung, getting some right on Xiao Long's shoe. Wenge and I share a look; I bite my lip, trying not to laugh, and the way he covers his mouth isn't helping. The mirth in his eyes is a dead giveaway he won't be getting on my case for this.

This'll be fun.

8-8

The ship finally docks. We escape the iron beast, and out into the enchanted kingdom styled campus we'll be calling home for the coming years. The place is simply gorgeous. Between the trimmed gardens and the smooth stone walkways and the beautiful tower that looks like it was ripped straight from a fairy tale…

Wenge and I stroll along, right up to what looks like the palace grounds, and into the main keep. A large enclosure on the ground floor, with rows of seats up on the upper floor, with a glass railing, for some reason. It's huge, no two ways about it. Like a ballroom, if sparsely decorated and with a stage against the far wall with a microphone and not much else. Bare walls just aren't attractive, but the minimalist style somehow draws even more attention to the beauty we left outside. As if they mean to say they've no reason to brag, knowing they just are a well-kept academy.

Some pretty-boy keeps puffing up his chest like a peacock splaying his feathers—Wenge gives him a once over, but shrugs and scouts the crowd for higher quality eye-candy. I don't blame him, that one'd never be any good for him. Not that he's ever been into humans, but still.

There are a few Faunus about the place. One with rabbit ears, another with a lizard's tail. They don't flock, so there's hope this place is more accepting of them. I elbow Wenge, spying a buff one with floppy dog ears leaning against the wall and buffing his shield.

The appreciative once-over hints Wenge isn't writing that one off, but that he isn't walking over hints he isn't sold they bat for the same team. My gaydar is fine-tuned with guys—it's girls that are impossible to read. I tug on his arm. When he leans in I murmur, "Worst case, you make a friend?"

He makes a face, not disagreeing with my logic, but he doesn't make a move all the same. Well, I tried.

There are plenty of cute girls. Some haughty ones, too. Like Schnee over there, with her prima ballerina outfit—not a bad choice, per se, but it makes her look more like a doll than a functional person. Hmm, what's-her-face is here as well; miss cereal model. Definitely the right combination of strength and looks, and she even looks down to earth. Shame she's outta my league.

Xiao Long is looking around for Rose, no doubt having ditched her the second she spotted her friends—damn, a known straight-as-an-arrow chick, but I'd marry her the second she even considers it an option.

There's another really cute chick in a pink dress with a blue jacket, but she's all but fawning over the quiet guy beside her. He patiently smiles, so I think he knows. Either they're a couple or they will be.

Ooh, Ms Bunny-ears looks all kinds of adorable. The shy type, which is a shame, but not a deal-breaker.

A brunette with a bow covering her cat ears. Faunus without fail, and all kinds of beautiful. Her outfit is a bit on the skimpy side, which I'm most definitely not complaining about, but the aloofness in her eyes almost hurts to look at. She's been burned one time too many, and burned bad from the look of it. Wait, isn't that Belladonna? She's practically royalty among the Faunus.

Girls are in the minority, which isn't surprising given this is a hunter's academy. Hmm. Now how the hell do I find out which of them swim upstream?

8-8

The soft whingeing of the microphone announces it's about to start. Took them long enough. "I'll. Keep this brief." Professor Ozpin looks about as I expected. Tall, willowy, and seems to like his walking cane. But it's Goodwitch that gets my attention, standing there looking dispassionately at everyone.

"You've travelled here today in search of knowledge. To hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you and all I see is wasted energy in need of purpose, direction." You're not much of a motivational speaker, are you. "You assume knowledge will free you of this. But your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step."

"Well, I'm pumped," I intone, giving Wenge an eye roll. He chuckles, not commenting on it.

Ozpin walks off, and Goodwitch steps up to the mic. "You will gather in the barn tonight. Tomorrow, your initiating begins. Be ready. You are dismissed."

"We're sleeping in a barn?" Wenge asks, giving me a side-glance. I shrug, unable to make any more sense of it than him. "What, like co-ed?"

We share a look, annoyed. Sex-segregation is just so much more efficient for us.

8-8

We're seriously all in one room together. All of us. Well, Wenge has my back, so there's nothing for me to worry about. It's the idiots that keep looking my way, flexing their pyjama-clad muscles, trying to draw my attention—not only are they giving Wenge quite the show, but they aren't even impressing him with it.

Still, it's cosy. I guess. Lots of unlit chandeliers overhead; I'm confused why none of the red velvety curtains are drawn, but the view of the twinkling stars is nice enough.

"It's nice," Wenge says, staring up at the ceiling from his sleeping bag. "We even got lockers next to each other."

I nod, flopping onto my sleeping bag beside his and hugging my pillow. "So initiation, huh."

"They'll pit us against wild grimm." Probably. "Hey, you think we'll be on the same team?"

I snort. "We better. You're the only one that keeps me in line." He chuckles, quite proud of the feat himself. "Statistically, we'll end up on a team with two other guys."

"Sucks to be you." We share a look—he's grinning like a complete maniac and gets my pillow to the face for it. That only makes him laugh harder, the idiot.

8-8

Beacon cliff. Name says a lot, really. It's a cliff, overlooking dense woodland, near Beacon. Given we're told to stand on these little mechanical-looking squares, I'm guessing we're gonna be catapulted into the fray. Wenge and I share a look, a smirk.

"For years," Ozpin says, holding the same mug as yesterday, "you have trained to become warriors and today your abilities will be evaluated in the Emerald Forest." What is it with Ozpin and that mug? Is it his prop? Does he love coffee that much—does he need it that much?

"Now." Goodwitch gets in on the 'fun'. "I'm sure many of you have heard the rumours about the assignment of teams. Well. Allow us to put an end to your confusion. Each of you will be given teammates. Today." Ohs noes. There be teammates in them there forest.

"These teammates," and back to Ozpin, "will be with you for the rest of your time here at Beacon." Oh, tag-teaming us, huh. Well. At least they work well together. "So it is your interests to be paired with someone with whom you can work well." That's an awkward way to word it. At least I know it isn't scripted. "That being said. The first person you make eye contact with after landing will be your partner for the next four years."

Wenge and I share a look, grinning as we bump fists. There's no way we're passing this up.

"After you've partnered up, make your way to the northern end of the forest. You will meet opposition along the way." Grimm. We roll our eyes, having figured as much. "Do not hesitate to destroy everything in your path. Or you will die."

Wenge chuckles and rolls his shoulders, looking forward to strutting his stuff.

"You will be monitored for the duration of your initiation. But our instructors will not intervene. You will find an abandoned temple at the end of the path containing several relics. Each pair must choose one and return to the top of the cliff." Sounds too simple. That means they have a fuckton of grimm down there. "You will guard that item, as well as your standing, and grade you appropriately. Are there any questions?"

"Yeah, um. Sir?" Pukey raises his hand, on the other end of the lineup from Wenge and me.

"Good. Now, take your positions." Wenge chuckles, quite enjoying the utter lack of favouritism going on.

"I'm furthest to his right, so they'll launch me first. I'll stay airborne long as I can. You piggyback, and I break our fall." I nod, agreeing with the plan.

"I got dibs on choosing our relic." He chuckles, readying himself for take-off with his two-metre studded club still strapped to his back. I take a stance as well. Sun is still sheathed in my sash, and Moon holstered. Hmm. The sun might get in my eye, and I don't have any shades.

My hoodie is pulled up and I grip Sun, just to make sure she doesn't get any funny ideas.

Without warning, Wenge is flung up into a shallow arc. I'm launched not a second after him. I unsheathe Sun and click her into snake form, lashing out and wrapping her around Wenge's waist. With a yank, I'm pulled towards him—like I'm massive enough to pull him towards me, bulky as he is.

I slam into his back, but he barely seems to notice. Sun clicks back into sword form and I sheathe her, taking out Moon and I just wait, clutching my Wenge and wrapping my legs under his armpits and over his shoulders with one arm looped through his waist-pouch and riding his club like a witch on a broom. There's a less than zero percent chance he'll let me get injured like this, so what do I care?

8-8

End Chapter One

8-8

A/N: Seriously, guys. Someone needs to tell my muse to chill the fuck out. I have enough stories going on, and this is just one of many that won't leave me alone until I write it TT_TT

Anyhoo. Don't expect this to be updated too regularly. It's fun to write, but I have other stories that I need to finish before actually starting this one. And I only have the first volume ready for posting...so, yeah. Let me know what you guys think all the same.