Disclaimer - RWBY is property of Roosterteeth

Hello! This is the result of a thought I had a while back: "Is it possible to create a story where the main character is from our world, yet is still able to keep up with the RWBY lot without some kind of stupid, illogical power-up?" The answer is yes!

This isn't really a self-insert story even though it's told from the first person but it's the same kind of idea.

Now enough of me waffling, lets see what happens when an elite soldier is thrown out of his element.

I opened my eyes slowly as I groaned. I could feel the lush grass brush against my body while I slowly regained consciousness. That was the first realisation that confused me; it's a common misconception that Afghanistan was completely devoid of forests and greenery, but there weren't any of those regions for miles around where I was posted.

Then I remembered. The crash. It came back in bits and pieces; the pilots yelling, the explosion, his men being engulfed in flames, hitting the ground and everything going black. I struggled to my feet as quickly as I could and looked around, expecting to see the flaming wreckage of the Chinook. Instead I found myself in the middle of a small clearing deep within a verdant forest. Looking around, I saw no trace of the crash nor did I see any of my men who were with me in the chopper. I saw my bergan and my rifle lying on the ground a few feet away near the edge of the clearing, presumably thrown clear in the aftermath of the crash. I staggered towards them, determined not to be caught unawares wherever I was.

That's when I first came across them. Later I was informed that they were called grimm and this one specifically a beowolf, but at the time I was convinced that a werewolf had just creeped out of the bushes and began investigating the rifles. Immediately thoughts rushed into my head as adrenaline rapidly returned my strength:

'Surely it's just an overgrown wolf.' 'Wolves aren't shaped like that.' 'Wolves in Afghanistan are grey.' 'Wolves don't have shells, do werewolves?'

Slowly I reached to my waist and drew the Glock 17 pistol that mercifully was still there after the Chinook went down. Praying that the creature wouldn't notice, I carefully cocked the handgun. It noticed. The jet black creature stared at me with its beady red eyes and growled, slowly stalking its way towards me. I quickly drew the nine inch combat knife from its sheath on my shoulder at the exact moment the monster leapt.

It landed directly on top of me, knocking me to the ground. The only thing stopping it from ripping my throat out was my left arm, holding it at bay. Using the same arm I plunged the knife deep into the flesh just above its ribcage, but the beowolf seemed to completely ignore the damage. Resorting to more drastic measures, I pressed the pistol into the monster's chest and pulled the trigger.

Once. Twice. Three times.

It took three shots before it began to weaken. Using all my strength, I pushed back and flipped the creature over. Now in control of the situation, I took my knife and slashed across its throat.I could see the life leave the grimm as it lay convulsing, drowning on its own blood. I sighed and slowly stood up, only to find two more beowolves five metres away, watching and prowling towards me. I brought up the Glock in hope that I could get a lucky shot or two before the hellish creatures could tear me limb from limb. Yet before I could line up the sights, an earsplitting bang was heard and a figure appeared out of nowhere surrounded by a flurry of rose petals. In the blink of an eye both of the beowolves were cut clean in half by the newcomer's weapon; a large and seemingly high-tech scythe. When they turned around I saw that my saviour was none other than a teenage girl, no more than fifteen years old. She wore a bright red cloak with a hood and beneath that a black dress that seemed rather unsuitable for running around in a forest. Her eyes were strangely colourless, but she had a western complexion, meaning that I was either no longer in the Middle East, or she wasn't a native. The young girl grinned at me, completely unfazed by what she had just accomplished, while I heard a voice from behind.

"Who are you?"

I turned to see a another girl, older by a couple of years, dressed in a similar dress and a jacket that were both completely white. She had a fancy sword belted to her hip and various pieces of jewellery adorning her body. Her hair was a pure shade of white and ended in a ponytail coming from the site of her head. Once again she was white, even paler than the first girl, and her accent was clearly American.

"You're too old to be a student and any hunter would have been able to deal with those beowolves easily. So I have two questions; who are you and what are you doing here?"

Unimpressed by the brat's attitude, I avoided the question. "Is that what those things are called? Beowolves?" I gestured to the mangled corpses, that were already beginning to decompose. Black flakes of flesh and fur were breaking free and floating away like petals in the breeze. The girl in white seemed confused and irritated by my ignorance and opened her mouth to express as such before being cut off by her friend.

"Are you okay? I don't recognise your accent, are you from around here?"

I laughed. "Never heard an Englishman speak before? What kind of hole did you grow up in? Anyway, just tell me where I am and I'll figure out the rest."

"You're in the Emerald Forest, near Vale, and you're interfering with our mission." The paler girl said haughtily.

"Weiss!" The other one scolded, before turning back to me. "I'm Ruby and that's Weiss. If you want we can help you get back to Vale safely."

There was something strange about a fifteen year old girl offering to protect thirty year old seasoned veteran, but I had seen what she had done and I could only assume the other girl, Weiss, was equally capable. However there were a few more questions I needed to ask.

"Where exactly is Vale? Are we still in Afghanistan?"

Weiss sighed heavily at this. "You must have hit your head. Vale? In the kingdom of Vale? One of the only four cities in Remnant? And you said we lived in a hole."

"Remnant? Is that meant to be a country?" I said, beginning to get aggravated by their refusal to give a straight answer.

"No, it's the whole world we're living in! How can you not know any of this!?"

"I don't understand. Just tell me where on Earth I am."

We already have! You're in the kingdom of Vale, and what do you mean by 'on Earth'?"

Before I could reply, a small and worried voice came from across the clearing.

"Weiss. I don't think he's from Remnant."

We both turned to see Ruby examining my rifle which she must have found on the ground. Immediately I began to move towards her.

"I've never seen a weapon like this before. I don't think it came fro- Hey!" She pouted after I ripped the rifle out of her grasp.

"Be careful! You might hurt someone." I ignored the irony of saying this to the girl wielding a massive scythe and checked that the weapon was still clear.

"That weapon's not a standard design. Where did you get it from? What kind of dust does it use?" Ruby suddenly became very interested in the rifle, confusing me even further with her questions.

"I don't know what you mean by dust, but it fires 7.62 rounds if that's what you're talking about."

The conversation continued with Ruby relentlessly trying to get every scrap of information about his guns and Weiss refusing to believe that I had no idea where I was or what Remnant was. Eventually it was decided that they would take me to their superior. I couldn't quite catch his name, but it sounded like they said "Oz." I silently chuckled; I wasn't in Kansas anymore, that much was certain. I didn't necessarily wish to meet the wonderful wizard, but without red riding hood and the ice queen I wouldn't last long if any more of those monsters turned up. So, with reluctance, I picked up my kit and fell in behind the girls.

It wasn't long before I came across two more inhabitants of Remnant. Both were girls about the same age as Weiss. One wore mostly black and white with a black bow atop her hair and a black sword across her back. The other dressed in a far more revealing manner than the rest of the girls; opting for a yellow top and jacket that exposed her midriff and emphasised her cleavage, and a miniscule pair of shorts that was barely longer than a few inches. Her golden hair flowed down like a lion's mane as low as her knees and on her wrists she wore identical bracelets. Apparently the the four girls knew each other, because the first thing the newcomers did was ask about me. Not once did they speak to my face, instead they discussed amongst themselves in hushed whispers. Eventually they came to a conclusion and the blonde swaggered towards me.

"Okay Mr... What did you say his name was again?" She said, turning to Ruby.

"Ross. My name's Lieutenant Mark Ross." I replied quickly, slightly amused that they hadn't thought to ask yet.

"Cool, I'm Yang and that's Blake, you already know the other two. Anyway, we think that either you actually are telling the truth, or you're delusional. Either way, you're coming with us to meet Professor Ozpin."

Any questions I had would have to wait because trees in the not-so-far distance suddenly began collapsing in quick succession. Something was charging towards us. Something big.

I brought the scope on my rifle up to my eye to get a better idea on what we were dealing with but all I could see through the undergrowth was a massive stinger, reminiscent of a scorpion's. This was explained when it crashed through the last few trees and came fully into view. An enormous scorpion was suddenly bearing down on the five humans.

Immediately Ruby yelled "Deathstalker!" and unfolded her scythe. I began sprinting away in order to put as much distance between me and it as possible and found cover next to a tree just over fifty metres away. I could see the four girls fighting the monster, but not even they could scratch it. I saw Ruby dig her scythe into the ground and, to my surprise, fire a few powerful shots into the creature. The bangs were similar to those of a fifty cal, but something seemed off, it didn't have the sound I was used to. Her shots seemed to bounce off the scorpion's shell, doing nothing but enraging it. I shouldered my rifle and took aim, determined to aid in the fight this time.

The weapon I had been given earlier that morning was the L129A2 Sharpshooter Rifle. Only four hundred had been distributed among the entire British Army; given only to the most skilled shots in the infantry. The semiautomatic weapon fires 7.62mm rounds and has a maximum effective range of eight hundred meters but an experienced sniper can hit targets at much further away. Hitting such a huge beast at that range, with that rifle, with no wind? Child's play.

I rapidly squeezed the trigger five times, each round finding their mark with ease. I had chosen my moment perfectly, waiting until what I assumed was its head was completely in view. All five shots slammed into the creature's shell, each creating a separate crack in its armour. The deathstalker slumped over, dazed but not dead, while the girls looked on in shock. I had seconds to act before the grimm got up again. Making a rapid decision, I opened my bergan and retrieved my other rifle. I unfolded the stock and bipod, laid prone, loaded a magazine and chambered a round ready to fire, all in the space of a couple of seconds. It was clear that not even 7.62 rounds from a high powered rifle could penetrate the deathstalker's armour, but what about bigger rounds, from a bigger rifle?

The L115A3 is the standard issue "sniper" rifle for the British army. With a collapsible stock, a built in bipod and the ability to fire 8.59mm rounds, it's considered the best rifle of its type in the world. Capable of achieving a first shot hit up to six hundred metres and able to deliver a killing blow up to a kilometre away; when fired by a trained sniper, it hit often, and it hit hard.

I aimed through the scope and found the point in the shell to which all the cracks ran; the chink in the monster's armour. Even at such a close range the shot was a difficult one to make; the spot I had to hit was no bigger than the palm of a hand. I held my breath, and squeezed the trigger. The front of the deathstalker's head exploded outwards as shrapnel made from the creature's shell flew everywhere. It reeled back as the bullet entered and destroyed its brain before collapsing, very clearly dead. Just like the beowolves, it began to dissolve immediately, the remains floating away in the breeze like corrupted flower petals. The girls simply stared at the situation at a loss for words, clearly shocked by what had just transpired. I ejected the empty casing and stood up, preparing the rifle too go back into the bergan. In the distance I heard a voice.

"How did he do that?"

I hope you all enjoyed that! Don't worry I'll explain why the L115 is more powerful than Crescent Rose in the next chapter (or Mark will specifically). Sorry if I was too technical in the descriptions, I didn't want to sound like "hurr durr look at me I know about guns" but at the same time I wanted to be right.

Be sure to check out my other story "The Unity" if you want to see my attempt at an OC team, or try it even if you don't!

Please review and tell me if I should tone down the technical stuff and I'll see you next time!

(P.S. If it wasn't already obvious, I'm English and therefore so is Mark and the equipment he will use.)