Time ticked by in the otherwise silent office. Behind the desk sat Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon academy—a grey haired man, peering over his round spectacles, seemingly youthful yet ancient. Across from him, leaning back in the chair, was a man best described as "rough." A scarred face under a black band. Dark green shirt, dark blue robes, and spiked, furred pauldrons. A pistol grip stuck out from his waistband.

The Drifter.

"So as I understand" Ozpin said, breaking the silence, "You broke into my office—"

"Hey, it was unlocked!"

"Intruded upon my office so you could make a sales pitch—"

"Business offer."

"In which you wish to make my students fight Grimm and other monstrosities for sport. Is that correct Mister…?"

"Drifter. Call me Drifter."

Ozpin took a sip from his mug.

Drifter chuckled. "Don't say it like this isn't any more dangerous than what you usually have them do. This'll teach your kids. Teach them how to survive."

"Is that so?" Ozpin inquired, raising an eyebrow. "While we pride ourselves on having a flexible curriculum, I don't see why we require your addition. Especially from a stranger such as yourself. Unless you have recommendations from other academies, perhaps?"

Drifter laughed. "I ran it a long time for another group. They seemed to think I did alright, though getting an endorsement from them would be a little tough. I'll let you in on a little secret though—this game's got more to it than you'd think."

Drifter leaned forward, his brows furrowed.

"You're like me, know that? I can see it in your eyes. You're not Risen, perhaps, but you've seen more than a few lifetimes haven't you?"

Ozpin's eyes widened at the declaration but he carefully schooled his features. Who was this man? He considered reaching for his cane. After all, outside his circle, only she and her agents would know his identity.

"Other people would kill for what we've got," Drifter continued. "But we know the truth. It's a curse, isn't it? Makes you wonder if you're really even human anymore."

"A curse indeed," Ozpin replied. "There are few on Remnant who would know such things. Tell me, who are you?" he asked forcefully.

Ozpin enjoyed keeping his cards close to his chest, and he couldn't help but feel like the entire deck had just been overturned.

Drifter shrugged. "You could say I'm from out of town. Far out of town. Not much to say past that, I'm just a wanderer. A drifter, if you will."

Ozpin raised an eyebrow at that. "A little trust could go a long way. Do you work for her? Or, are you a survivor like myself, but only recently coming out of hiding?"

The other man waved a hand dismissively. "I'm a free agent, and sure I like to consider myself a survivor. Though I can't help but feel like you're using it in a different sense."

"How much do you know about them, then?"

"I know a lot of things. Nothing about whatever it is you're trying to get at though. I'm here for business only, nothing else."

Ozpin relaxed slightly. "I see. Forgive my questioning. When duplicity is all too common, one must be cautious."

"I know that all too well," Drifter said with a laugh. "I can tell you've got secrets. Don't worry, I won't pry, I've got plenty of my own. I'll let you in on one of them though—this game's got more to it than you'd think."

"And what would that be?"

"A way to fight the Darkness. A way to reclaim your world. Gambit's a chance at salvation, brother. And it can be yours too."

Drifter did it. With enough reassuring, and a little of his roguish charm, the headmaster was convinced to tentatively allow his game a trial run at Beacon. On the surface it was an opportunity for the students to improve their training and teamwork in a novel environment.

He could tell the headmaster had only truly approved the game because of its true nature. Gambit was not merely a game, nor a simple training exercise. Gambit made participants flirt with the line between Light and Dark. It let them taste power. It allowed for the Darkness itself to be refined into a weapon.

It was also crucial in helping him control his armies of Taken, though he left that part unsaid. The Taken, a massive and diverse collection of those corrupted by Darkness, made for a powerful asset if one could manage to control them.

Now, Drifter walked through the Emerald Forest. The usual Gambit setup would be a little too strong for the students, he decided. After all, they couldn't exactly revive themselves upon death. He'd have to make a new brand of Gambit to get them started. Gambit Lite? Gambit Minor? Questions for later.

Rules would need to be tweaked too. Ozpin would probably not appreciate four students being permanently turned into paste by an invader.

He'd have to settle for the resident Grimm to start. They would be familiar to the students, but still able to provide a challenge. Once they got used to it, he could throw them some harder foes.

Throughout his walk in the forest, Drifter encountered several Grimm, which he found to be quite interesting. They contained Darkness, certainly, and yet it was a different breed of Darkness than he was used to. It felt foreign, less potent, and lacked the suffocating presence of true Darkness.

For him, that was only a good thing. It meant his explosive exit from the solar system, involving a jumpship soldered to four Vex gates with a Prime Servitor wired to the engine, had either carried him far enough through space or simply broken through reality itself until he landed somewhere far away. A place where he couldn't feel the damned presence of the Traveler or Darkness at all.

It was the most freedom he'd felt in centuries.

Another Beowulf sprung from the foliage, growling and charging forwards. A single well-placed shot from his hand cannon put it down, and its body tumbled forwards, disappearing into black smoke.

Drifter felt a twinge of annoyance at that. If the bodies of the Grimm kept vanishing into smoke, how was he supposed to eat them?

"Thank you for joining us," Ozpin said as Drifter entered.

No problem," the man replied, glancing around at the others in the office. A blonde woman studying him critically, and a large man looking with interest.

"Allow me to introduce two of your colleagues—Professors Glynda Goodwitch and Peter Port."

"Nice to meet you," Drifter said casually, shaking their hands.

"Ozpin tells me you plan to use the Grimm in novel ways. I can't wait to see how," Port said with a smile.

"Although," Glynda cut in, "it seems you had a most interesting way of introducing it."

Drifter shrugged. "I like to make an impression, what can I say?"

"Now," Ozpin spoke up, "while perhaps unorthodox, I find merit in Drifter's proposal."

"I don't suppose you yourself have a name to go along with it?" Glynda asked sharply.

The man in question laughed. "Drifter's as good as a name as you'll get I'm afraid. I've been going by it for a long time."

She hummed in skeptical agreement.

"As I mentioned to the two of you, Drifter came to me with a most interesting offer," Ozpin explained. "I saw fit to give him the status of an instructor while his game is introduced. Assuming all goes well, it can serve as an elective activity for the students, and credit them towards Grimm studies and combat training."

"A sensible approach. No amount of time in a classroom can beat practical experience, as I always say," Port replied a laugh.

"Of course, the value of this game remains to be seen," Glynda remarked sternly. "I, for one, would like to see it in action first."

Ozpin nodded. "Indeed it is a novel concept. Even I don't know the finer details—Drifter, would you mind explaining the basics of Gambit to us?"

"Sure thing boss," Drifter said with a grin. "Gambit is my creation, something I've developed over years of work. I'd call it the pinnacle of competitive fights. Though, what I'll run here won't be true Gambit. Your students are a little too soft for that, I'm afraid."

That comment drew curious glances from the other three in the room but they remained silent.

"It starts off with two teams, and two arenas," he explained, gesturing with his arms for emphasis. "Enemies, in this case Grimm, will appear in each one. The teams will fight to defeat as many as they can, collecting Motes of Dark in the process."

He flicked his hand, causing a Mote to appear. The small, white, pyramid sat there pulsating with glowing light. With another wave, it seemingly vanished.

"They take these to the center of the arena, and bank 'em in one of my machines. Once they get enough banked, it'll pull a big, nasty enemy in for them to fight. Whichever team kills theirs first, wins.

"There's a little twist, though," he continued. "Each team gets three chances to send an invader—a single fighter who infiltrates the enemy's arena. Once there, the invader can wreak havoc and attempt to slow the other team down."

The two professors took his words in silence. Ozpin took a sip from his mug.

"Certainly an interesting idea," Port announced. "But how will you make the Grimm suit the game?"

"Trade secret for now, I'm afraid," Drifter said with a grin. "But," he added, waving his hand to summon another Mote. "These ought to let me summon Grimm, among other things."

"You can summon Grimm?!" Glynda sputtered, while Port wore an astonished expression.

This particular part wasn't news to him, and Ozpin continued to calmly drink his coffee.

"In a manner of speaking," Drifter explained, "though I can't control them. And, it requires applying a little bit of tech designed by yours truly."

"Summoning Grimm is a most dangerous ability," Port said. "Why, an unexpected Grimm in the middle of the city could cause a catastrophic chain reaction!"

"Relax, it takes the right tech, skills, and environment to do it. I'm the only one able to work it," Drifter reassured him. "Of course, even if I could, I've got no intention of dropping Grimm on Vale."

Lies mixed with the truth, of course. Through using his control over the Light and Darkness, Drifter could bring summoned Taken—or Grimm, presumably—under his control, although it took a great deal of effort to do so. It was much easier to sit back and let them rampage.

While he had no interest in doing so, he found the idea of destroying Vale humorous. Back in the Sol System he was considered dangerous and well-connected, but not a major threat. Sure, being able to summon Taken and access the Darkness granted him power beyond the average Light-bearer, but the greatest concern the Vanguard had was that he'd corrupt Guardians' moral sense and tempt them to do naughty things.

Here, though? Toss a handful of Motes to summon a Primeval—one of the most ancient and powerful Taken—and he could probably destroy half the kingdom. He'd seen a few Huntsmen and Huntresses in action. Sure, they were fast, strong, and had the uniqueness of Semblances, but few could compete with the power of a Guardian.

And of course, unlike Guardians, they tended to stay down.

"The ability to summon Grimm could prove beneficial to us," Ozpin stated, interrupting Drifter's musings. "Beyond a safer means of transport to study, it could be possible to further tweak the technology to allow us to control the Grimm. Or, perhaps manufacture a large-scale anti-Grimm device."

Drifter nodded in agreement.

Port stroked his chin thoughtfully. "There is indeed great research potential there. Perhaps we should bring Dr. Oobleck on board? While Grimm may not be his area of expertise, his intellectual nature would be invaluable."

"A wise suggestion, Peter. I will inform him later today. Anything you'd like to add, Glynda?" Ozpin asked.

The woman in question shook her head. "Not at the moment, no. I will enjoy seeing the how that side of this project progresses, however."

"As will I," he replied before turning to Drifter. "As an instructor here you are entitled to housing, food, and all other faculty accommodations. If that's all we have to discuss, Glynda will show you to your room."

The small meeting adjourned, and Drifter followed Goodwitch through the halls towards the faculty wing.

"Tell me, Glynda, you're the combat instructor aren't you?" Drifter asked.

"I am."

"Then would you mind if I swung by a few of your classes? Seeing how the students fight will help me adjust the difficulty of Gambit," he explained.

"I have no objections," she replied. "A new semester begins in a few days, and I believe the new first-years will be ideal for this experiment. I will notify you then."

Drifter said his thanks and they continued on wordlessly before reaching a door where, after Glynda gave a brief overview of the facilities, they parted ways.

The woman was suspicious of him, he could tell. Not that he'd blame her; he always came across as the shady type. Drifter certainly did not get along with the strict, straight-and narrow types, if his history with the Vanguard was any indication.

"At least she doesn't have a big-ass shotgun," he muttered.

Fumbling around one of his pockets, Drifter withdrew his Scroll and used it to unlock the door. A primitive piece of technology by his standards, sure, but he found it enjoyable to immersive himself in culture of Remnant.

The room inside was small and simple. A clean bed, desk, and a few chairs made up the main area while a doorway led to the bathroom. These were luxuries to a man like Drifter, however. Certainly beat sleeping inside the gutted carcass of an enemy to stay sheltered in a blizzard.

Walking towards the desk, he grinned at the computer there. No doubt connected to the schools systems, it would be a valuable source of information. While he had been on Remnant for a while already, taking his time to learn about the inhabitants and cautiously introduce himself to their culture, there were certainly things kept hidden away from the general public that he could find in the Beacon database.

Drifter extended an open palm.

"Come on out, you little thing" he spoke, summoning his Ghost.

It appeared at once. A mash of off-white and rusty metal chunks made up its shell, with red, unblinking eye in the center. Silently, it floated over to the computer. A beam of light shone from it as it entered the system and began processing the data.

His Ghost wasn't like most Ghosts. Most Ghosts were in a white, cubic shell—or a fancier one, if their Guardians found one—and had a blue eye. They were cheerful and faithful companions, creations of the Light, and oftentimes a Guardian's best friend.

Drifter's Ghost wore the cannibalized parts of other Ghosts, and had been fused with the Darkness. It was quiet. It could not speak. The once cheerful personality had long since been broken.

The changes hadn't been entirely his doing, of course. It had been his Ghost's final attempt to save both of them a long time ago. A time when they were hunted, dying, and both driven insane by prolonged and constant isolation and danger.

Drifter recovered, but his Ghost was forever changed.

Most would be distraught if such things happened to their Ghost, but Drifter didn't care all that much. They did what they had to in order to survive. He never had a deep attachment to his Ghost anyways.

It was a useful tool, sure, and something reliable throughout centuries of change. But, it was also a constant reminder of what the Traveler had done: risen him from the dead and stripped him of his humanity so he could serve as a pawn in an unwinnable war.

He took a few minutes to sit, enjoying the quiet. His Ghost finished, and floated back over to him, disappearing until he called on it again.

Thanks to the seemingly magical abilities of the Light, the vast amounts of data Beacon offered could be compressed to an impossible degree by the Ghost and stored easily on his device.

He'd have to wait until later to begin reading through it though.

Drifter was hungry.

First FF. Suggestions & constructive criticism very much appreciated! If I missed anything proofreading, please let me know as well :)