Blood in the Snow Chapter 1: Assignment

Yo, all. I've been reading a lot of White Knight lately, and as always happens, I ended up getting attached to the ship like the annoying little barnacle that I am. And this was the result. This is the abominable result of that. I figured "alright, what if you threw the cast of RWBY into a more modern day, 'realistic' setting'. Do enjoy, and let me know if I should continue!

"We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm..." - Winston Churchill/George Orwell

"Sector 3-b."

"Contact."

"Copy, reference the ruined blue barrel left've the target... Approximately two mils."

"Confirmed, target is a caucasian male dressed in all black, has a caucasian female hostage at knifepoint kneeling at his feet." A gloved hand brushed a stray blonde hair away before a cobalt eye returned to it's place behind the scope, "Uh, two additional combatants to his 10 and 2 o'clock-..."

"Y'got 'em... Check parallax and mil."

"1.0, clean."

"Confirmed... Check level..." A young man with ginger hair prompted, his binoculars held as steady as could be as he leaned back in his chair, "Holdover, 4.3... No wind, no known collateral; spotter ready."

"Shooter ready."

"Send it..."

The grass swayed violently as a thunderous crack rattled through the valley, crescendoing in a loud clang as brass met steel in a brilliant display of sparks that showered the dirt below like smoldering rain.

"...Hit confirmed."

It was only after those words that Jaune Arc nimbly flicked the safety of his rifle on with his thumb, leaning away from the scope with a soft breath.

"So, what's up?" The ginger-haired man mumbled down to the blonde who still lay in the lush grass of the field, giving him a friendly tap on the shoulders with his binoculars.

"Hmm?"

"You don't usually have us practice engagements from this distance." The ginger pressed, "I get that practice makes perfect, but we'll hardly be throwing lead that far. What's goin' on?"

"Guess I'm just out of it. Sorry, Cardin."

"You aren't allowed to be touching targets that far out while you're 'out of it', Jauney-boy. Makes me look bad." The ginger-haired young man, Cardin mumbled, "Spit it out, what's up? This about?-..."

"That; yeah... Thought something different would get my mind off've tomorrow," Jaune brought himself to his full height, brushing the stray strands of grass from his old jeans and Pumpkin Pete's hoodie, "Y'wanna take a few shots?"

"Nah, I'm cool." Cardin shot a knowing look at the lanky man, "Gotta say though, you're pretty confident thinking anything short of a brick to the head is gonna get our minds off of tomorrow."

"Guess if you were feeling charitable you could say that I'm just pretending to be an optimist."

"I'll say."

Jaune shot his friend an inquisitive glance.

"I'm just saying, it takes a hell of an optimist to think that somebody with a penchant for airsickness can be a Counter-Action Bodyguard for the Schnee Family."

"Hey! Airsickness is a-"

"Very common problem!... Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, man."

Jaune chuckled, giving Cardin a friendly punch on the shoulder, eliciting a grin from the ginger-haired man.

A few more verbal jabs were traded, and a few extra shots made on Jaune's part, before the duo began the slow process of packing away their stuff, Jaune lingering every so often as his thoughts seemed to find ways to consume him again and again, until eventually, Cardin found the silence bearable no longer.

"So..." He began, lightly tapping the old wooden table bearing the brunt of all of their equipment.

"So?"

"Lookin' forward to it?"

"Hm?"

"T'seeing her."

"Oh," A pregnant silence filled the air, only broken by the melodic sound of brass hitting the gravel as Jaune unloaded his rifle, "I guess. Being terrified technically counts as looking forward to something, right?"

"Only on your wedding day."

The blonde couldn't resist letting a small grin crawl it's way onto his face as he finished packing up his rifle and binoculars, despite the obvious discomfort swimming just beneath his cobalt blue eyes.

"Hey now, Jauney-boy, don't look at me that." Cardin gave his comrade a swift thump on the back, "She won't even know it's you under that mask."

"You can say that again." Jaune agreed, "Not that she ever gave me the time of day, even back then."

"See? Now you're getting it...kinda. Nothing to worry about!" Cardin concluded as he fished his car keys from his pocket, merrily spinning them around his index finger.

"Yeah, guess I'm just all nerves. First time I've seen her since she left our school, y'know." Jaune slung his gun-bag over his shoulder, shaking his head, "I mean, that's a pretty long time!"

"We graduated like a year ago, cool your jets, Jauney-boy..." The ginger pointed out, "Besides, like you said, she barely even knew you existed back then, and what're the chances you'll be assigned to her? The Schnee Family's made up of- what- five members or something?"

"Yeah. Three kids, the Chairman, and his wife."

"Exaaactly!" An impressively thick arm was flung around Jaune's shoulders, pressing him against his friend, "Now, do the math with me-"

"You mean 'for you', right?"

"Yeah, ha-ha. But really, it's like a 25% chance you'll even be assigned to her."

"Maybe I should do the math for you."

"You always used to."

"Didn't have much of a choice back then." Jaune pointed out as the two of them reached Cardin's old pickup, the former tossing his rifle case into the hatchback, "If I didn't you would've just locked me into my own locker for a few hours again."

"And look how smart you are now!"

Jaune shook his head. Typical Cardin. Ah well, someone had to be the muscle. "Smart enough to know we're crazy for doing this?"

"Just about, yeah."

"You are Counter-Action Bodyguards; CAB for short. My name's Qrow, your Commanding Officer, et cetera, et cetera..."

A slurred voice bounced off the uninvitingly cold stone walls of the Schnee Dust Company armory, the disinterest of its owner clearer than glass as he droned on with the enthusiasm of a bored schoolboy.

When Jaune and Cardin, along with about 8 other members of what no doubt made up the Counter-Action Bodyguard force, had first set foot on Schnee Dust Company grounds it was safe to say they had expected some finely dressed, military man waiting for them. Instead, they found this...specimen, a raven-haired man in his late 30s with striking red eyes that- in such stark contrast to his disinterested tone- seemed to bore into the gathered agents before them with an almost eerie sense of focus.

To say he was improperly dressed would be a depressing understatement, Jaune thought as he casually leaned back in his chair, toying with a ballpoint pen. This 'Qrow' was such a far cry from the anticipated pressed suit with stark white regalia that would make a snow-hare green with jealousy. In fact, he honestly reminded Jaune of a homeless vagrant, standing before the rows of tables clad in little more than some old dusty dress pants and a half unbuttoned shirt that looked just about as old as the bottle of whiskey he was casually swirling in his grip.

"Fitting acronym, since you'll be responsible for transporting oh-so venerable the Schnee family from destination to destination safely, as well as providing general security for both the Schnee manor and offices." He explained as he clinked his bottle upon one of the many steel tables lining the room, "Oh, and that also counts wherever else our snow-haired charges decide to stick their rich little thumbs."

"So we're acting as 24/7 armed security?" One of the braver prospects inquired; a young man with a rather impressive head of black hair, with a violet streak down his bangs.

He would've honestly looked a bit feminine, to the point that at a glance Jaune would have assumed him to be a young woman, if it hadn't been for the full black and white fatigues and plate carrier that encapsulated his torso like a protective shell, accentuating the underlying muscle tone of his still exposed biceps.

"Essentially." Qrow leaned against a nearby gun locker, a wry grin flitting across his unshaven face as he was met with a host of raised brows, "Don't give me that look, I already know what you're gonna ask; 'Why not just call us bodyguards? Why Counter-Action Bodyguards'? Am I in the ballpark here?"

He was met with little more than a scare few shrugs from one or two of the recruits.

"Y'aren't just responsible for making sure that the Schnee brats are alright," Qrow continued on, looking about as bored with his own speech as any man could, "You're also responsible for apprehending or neutralizing whatever crazy bastard decides they wanna try their hand at albino hunting."

"The Schnees aren't albino, Sir."

"Not the point."

Qrow took a quick swig from his bottle, nearly clocking out one of the recruits sitting just a hair too close to the drunkard in the process.

"So yeah... Uh, where was I?... Right! Most other bodyguard's duties end once the asset is out of harm's way, but you all get the magical job of continuing the engagement until your VIPs have left the vicinity, or the hostile element is neutralized. You'll also be responsible for on-site trauma-care and the general health of your new pet lemmings." He casually tapped his bottle against the edge of the desk where Jaune sat, his crimson eyes lingering on he and Cardin for a few agonizingly long moments, "And when all else fails, and you're backed against a corner, your thick skulls are the shield that'll be there to stop the bullet meant for them."

You could hear a pin drop.

"So essentially, it like bodyguardin' on hard-mode."

A few wary glances were exchanged throughout the group. This unkempt disaster masquerading as a man certainly had a way of making the concept of fleeting mortality sound like no big deal.

Of course they were prepared to throw themselves into the line of fire. It sort of came with the job, after all. But this man? This man had a certain way with words, Jaune concluded with a shiver, blunt as they may be.

"I'd like to say that they're a family that keeps out of the limelight and that they never throw themselves into the proverbial- and literal- line of fire, but then I'd just be lyin' to you."

A few laughs echoed through the room as at least a bit of the mounting tension seemed to melt away.

"In other words, you'd better expect that to be going to a lot of TV Station visits and fancy-ass Galas. A lot've pointless-..." Qrow grunted, as of a particularly bad memory flashed across his mind's eye, "Other than that, your day-to-day duties'll vary considerably depending on which family member you're assigned, but public appearances are a pretty regular occurrence for all've'm. So I hope you like fancy suits and tucking a pistol on your person so discreetly you'll be walking funny for a few hours."

"Sir?" Jaune began, raising his hand.

Qrow's gaze snapped back towards him with terrifying speed, prompting an uncomfortable wince from the young man, "We aren't in a classroom, Blondie, just spit it out."

"I was under the impression we, uh-...we would be wearing masks and helmets."

"Normally, yeah." The drunkard conceded, eliciting a hopeful grin from the blonde, "But d'you think you're gonna get away with wearing a balaclava and helmet on the red carpet?"

"Is that allow-"

"Shaddup."

"Yessir..."

Qrow resisted the urge to roll his eyes back into his skull. Why did the weird ones always have to be the ones to pipe up?

"So with that little gem've a question, I would say that just about covers the remainder of your orientation. For those of you that didn't listen to a damn word; just don't shoot the ones with the white hair, and you're golden." The drunkard clapped his hands, taking a long breath, "Now, does anyone have any intelligent questions before I send y'all off to the white wolves themselves? Any last rites? Unfulfilled desires?"

"Uh, yessir," Jaune's own hand lingered in the air momentarily before it shot back down as he registered his mistake, "How exactly will the selection work? Is it like...some sorta lotto or?-..."

"You don't need to worry your pretty little head about that at all, Blondie." The raven-haired man hummed knowingly, balancing back on his worn heels as he tapped a piece of paper haphazardly taped to a nearby weapon locker, "I've already chosen who'll be assigned to who."

"Based on?..."

"Whatever I thought would be funny."

"Remind me how exactly you got yourself a position as the head of Schnee Security?"

"I wrote a lot of letters to Santa asking for a job with the bitchiest family on the planet." Qrow flashed the group a near sadistic smirk, "Merry Christmas, kids. Come get your callsigns and assignments."

"Here's hoping they come with a gift receipt." Cardin mumbled, pulling himself out of his chair with a grunt, "C'mon Jauney-boy, let's go see which sucker we're stuck with."

Yeah, someone was a poor sucker here, and Jaune had a creeping suspicion that sucker had a head full of golden blonde hair and stupid ideas.

He strolled over to the locker, carefully making his way through the small crowd of recruits that had gathered around the assignment paper. Soft grumblings and approving hum filled the room as each and every recruit learned of their new charge, with one recruit in particular, the calm young man from before, even mumbling something along the lines of being assigned a fantastic fit.

And through it all Jaune fought to catch a glimpse of the assignment sheet, silently wondering just who he would be spending the foreseeable future with, standing by their side as their loyal protector.

Perhaps he would be assigned to the only male child, or even Jacque Schnee himself. It would certainly make sense, given that there were several female recruits that would suit the female Schnees far better than he, Cardin, or any of the other male recruits ever could.

But as he read the name on the paper, giving his eyes a good rub as he scanned over the outrageously over-designed parchment several times, he couldn't help but feel that someone, somewhere really had it out for him.

That name. The one singular name that he had hoped would be absent from the page jumped out at him like a bolt of lightning across the sky, giving front billing to his astoundingly tragic luck.

'Jaune Arc, Callsign; Delta-2, Assigned to-'

"Welp," Cardin's voice barely registered in Jaune's mind as he felt his throat close up with anxiety, "Guess we should make it a point to avoid visiting casinos anytime soon, huh, Jauney-boy?"

"Yeah... You can definitely say that again."

'Weiss Schnee.'

So, how is it? Interesting at all? Worth continuing? Let me know, and thanks for reading!