Yellow

It had been about four months for the Spartan since she had bailed on Schnee at the city of Argus. In that time, she had learned that the planet of Remnant had no form of space-travel, no long-range communications and was constantly under threat from shadow creatures known as Grimm.

The creatures themselves weren't all that hard to kill, even the bigger ones like the Ursa Major or Ancient Deathstalkers. A bit disappointing after fighting aliens with advanced plasma weaponry for just over a decade.

She had also found out…that she had been born on Remnant. The natural energy shield that sprung to life when her suit's shielding had failed was known as an Aura; a powerful barrier born of the Soul. The wolf ears that sat on the top of her head were another hint. The people of Remnant were split into two races: Humans and Faunus. The Faunus were humans born with animal traits and senses who had apparently been slaves for a long time before they rebelled barely a decade after 'The Great War'. Ever since, most people accepted the fact that Faunus were people, though there were still a few outliers who treated the people like animals. It was somewhat similar to how many UNSC personnel thought of the Spartans; thinking the Super-Soldiers were nothing but unfeeling machines. Military Hardware with minds.

Everything she'd learned pointed to only one conclusion: Spartan-141 had been born on Remnant before she had been taken by ONI for Project Orion II. Now if only she could find her family…

In the four months since her arrival, she had made numerous attempts to contact Cortana, going so far as to hack into the CCT; which had been pathetically easy for the Spartan. Remnant's coding was pathetic; in order to try and contact the AI. Her constant attempts only convinced her that either the AI had been destroyed in whatever event had sent the Spartan to her home-world, she was offline, or she was still back on the Forward Unto Dawn.

After S-141 had bailed on Specialist Schnee, she had taken a few ships out of Argus to the kingdom of Vale, where she became bit a bit of a bounty hunter in the area around the capital city, also called Vale. The reputation she gained gave her a fair bit of clout with the criminal underworld, which had given her a rather extensive intelligence network in a short time. Along with a fair bit of Lien; Remnant's currency.

This rather absurd amount of money left the Spartan with no idea with no idea how to spend it, so she did what she usually would on her far and in between shore-leaves: she went to a bar.

Now, technically she couldn't get drunk thanks to her absurd metabolism. That didn't stop her from sitting in the darkest corner of a rather loud dance club, slowly draining a large mug of beer as her silver eyes watched the crowd, her helmet on the table next to her. Her face was hidden in the shadows of the booth, the only hint to her features being the glimmer of silver irises whenever they caught the light.

The music was loud and the flashing lights were a bit much, but all in all it was a good place to sit and relax. Unfortunately, as a Veteran Soldier, her mind never stopped moving, especially when she noticed a pattern. Over the last few months, Dust shops across the Kingdom had been hit, with only the Dust itself being taken. Never the money. With the amounts being taken, it was enough to supply an army of sufficient size.

Connecting factors to the robberies were numerous. Only Dust was taken, never Lien. The robberies were always led by wanted criminal Roman Torchwick. And all the thugs in the robberies were employees of one Hei Xiong; aka Junior; who ran the club that S-141 was currently sitting in.

She sat silently as Junior spoke with Roman himself, her helmet turned in their direction to record their conversation for later viewing. The Spartan couldn't help but chuckle as the bowler hat wearing man stomped off in a huff as his deal apparently fell through. The Spartan grabbed her helmet and rammed it onto her head, ready to follow before her silver eyes caught a seemingly familiar sight.

A head of wild golden hair was bobbing through the crowd, a woman too young to be in a club like this almost glowing in the disco light. Something about the girl's pale violet eyes made 141's heart beat a little fast in anticipation. The good kind.

The Spartan knew that girl…somehow. The eyes, the face and hair. They were all so familiar. Forcing her mind back as far as she could, she only had the most faded of memory of the girl giving her a wide grin, a tooth missing in the front, her face lit up in joy as she said something.

Her silver visor moved from the blond to Torchwick as he moved out the door. The woman huffed. If the man was in Vale, he was there for a job. She could catch up to him later. The blond could be a clue to her past here on Remnant. She sat back down and focused on the blond, helmet tuning out the music and ambient conversation, allowing her to listen in. She grinned. After a month or so, some of her memories had returned. Apparently, she was clad in Gen-2 Hunter armor, designed originally for Spartans working for ONI, the suit allowing them to listen to and track their quarry from afar.

"—got a name, sweetheart?" came Junior's raspy voice as he leaned against his counter.

The blond gave a giggle as she crossed her arms under her large breasts. "Heh. Yes, Junior. I've got several."

Something about her tone gave the Spartan impression that the blond was about to start something that would force the Super-Soldier to intervene.

"But instead of sweetheart," she said, running her finger across his vest and downwards. "you can just call me sir!"

The Spartan heard the crunch from her seat as the blond wrapped her fist around Junior's testicles, causing the man to go soprano for a good five seconds as he cried out in pain. 141 snorted as the blond leaned in close. "People say you know everything."

The girl pulled out a Scroll; the Remnant equivalent of a smart phone; and pulled up an image, the picture too grainy from a distance for the Spartan to get a good look at it.

"Tell me where I can find them, and I'll let you go." She growled menacingly as Junior whimpered in her grasp.

"I've never seen 'em before!" Junior squeaked. "I swear!"

"Excuse me!?"

Crunch!

141 winced in sympathy. From the sound of it, that girl is pretty damn strong. This'll be interesting.

Junior squeaked again. "I swear, Sir!"

The Spartan pulled her rifle from her back and loaded non-lethal Lightning Dust rounds; which had been a pain in the ass to procure for her weapon; into the chamber as a group of Junior's thugs rushed to their boss's aid.

The girl only grinned. "Looks like we have an audience." She purred. "This must be embarrassing for you, huh?" she grinned. "Awkward."

Junior's face was turning red from pain as the girl gave his balls another crunching squeeze. "Listen, Blondie Sir," he squeaked out. "If you wanna make it out of this club alive, I suggest you let me go. NOW!"

The girl's hand immediately released the gangster, the man in question releasing a breath of relief as he straightened his posture and pulled a set of red sunglasses out of his vest." You'll pay for that, Blondie." He growled out as he walked away from her, his voice somewhat back to normal.

'Blondie' followed him, hands behind her back as she kept pace with him while walking backwards. "Oh Junior, don't be so sensative, I was just messing with you."

Kid's got a pair on her, I'll give her that, thought the Spartan as she lined up her rifle with one of Junior's enforcers, the girl dressed in red.

"Come on, lets kiss and make-up, okay?"

The Spartan raised an eyebrow at the girl's tone. It was far too mischievous for her to be honest. She was going to do something stupid, 141 was sure of it.

She was proven correct as Blondie punched Junior right in the mouth as he leaned in for a kiss, sending the grown man; who must've weighed in at around 210 lbs.; flying through the air to crash through one of the many glass pillars that surrounded the dance floor and into the bleachers.

The Spartan gaped at the girl's strength. She was about on par with an S-III in terms of raw strength, and she was so tiny as well!

The Spartan watched as Blondie twisted and yanked her arms back, the yellow bracelets she was wearing clicking and expanding outwards to form gauntlets that covered the entirety of her forearms. A quick jerk had a shotgun shell flying from her right gauntlet. 141 stared at the weapons as her rifle dropped a smidge.

It's official. I need to make one of those mecha-shifting weapons…they are just too cool, and too useful for words.

A part of her she hadn't noticed in years had kicked in over the last month or so: her mild obsession with weaponry. As it turned out, she was a bit of a gun-nut.

141's focus was pulled back to the blonde as the girl leapt straight up into the air, soaring about fifteen feet up as she cocked her right fist back, purple eyes glimmering as she fell back to the dance floor, right arm engulfed in golden fire.

Once again, 141's jaw dropped as the girl made landfall, the blond launching her fist straight into the ground with enough force to cause the steel and concrete to ripple from the kinetic energy, all of Junior's goons sent flying from the blast wave.

I take it back, 141 thought numbly. She is waaaay stronger than an S-III…hell, she's stronger than a Gods-be-Damned Hunter!

141 watched as the blond surged forward, hair trailing flames behind her as she leapt into the air once more, pivoting midair to slam her leg down on one of her assailant's with enough force to slam his skull into the glass floor as she swiftly lashed out at two of his friends, her gauntlets letting off shotgun blasts that sent the men flying away from her before she leapt and kicked two others away.

141 gaped at the girl as she moved from one opponent to the next, none of Junior's men able to lay so much as a scratch on her as she kicked and punched, her fists augmented by shotgun blasts. Hell, the girl even used her gauntlets to push herself back and forth, the momentum keeping her out of range of any goon that got too close for comfort. Unfortunately, that also meant that the blond was moving around so much that 141; with all her skill with long range combat; wasn't able to get a shot in that wouldn't hit the blond.

Well, 141 thought as she clamped her rifle to her back. You can't shoot them, punch them.

With that, the Spartan jumped from her table, thrusters in her armor sending her flying through the air to land directly behind the blond just as the young lady dressed in red and sporting a pair of red claws on her wrists launched a strike at the blonde's unprotected back.

CLANG!

The girl's blood red blades met 141's midnight black gauntlet, the Super-Soldier's hand wrapping around her forearm as the girl's teal colored eyes widened at the behemoth before her. The Spartan smirked under her helmet, yanking hard on the girl's arm to yank her off the ground. The girl yelped as she went airborne, her yelp becoming a scream as 141 swiftly switched to her rifle and pulled the trigger, the Lightning-Dust round unleashing its payload into the girl's nervous system. The girl hit the dance floor in a twitching mess, the blond and the girl's white-clad twin gaping at the soldier before Blondie took advantage of White's distraction, sending a powerful right cross into the girl's jaw, sending the teen flying across the room to crash into a booth, her pale green Aura shattering as she slumped into the seat.

"You're gonna pay for this."

141's helmet turned to lock onto the rather irate form of Hei Xiong, who was carrying a gunmetal gray and deep red rocket launcher over his shoulder, gray eyes narrowed in anger as the Spartan exchanged a look with the blond.

"He does realize that using that launcher inside his own club is just going to break more stuff…right?" she asked the blond. Her answer was a fun-loving smirk as the girl took a stance, gauntlets cocking the shotgun shells as the crime boss hefted his weapon.

He never had a chance. The instant he twitched, 141's rifle was up, the weapon cracking as she squeezed the trigger, sending the powerful Lightning round to strike Junior right between the eyes, the force of the blow snapping the man's head back as sparks of electricity spread across his body, the man's gray Aura shattering as his feet left the ground. He landed a few meters back and did not get up, his body twitching from the lightning jumping between his nerves.

"Well…that was anticlimactic," Blondie said as she looked around the ruined night-club. She turned to the Spartan and smiled "Thanks for the help, Miss! I could've handled that myself, but I appreciate the assist!"

The Spartan rolled her eyes under her helmet as she moved towards the exit of the building, her sharp ears catching the sounds of sirens approaching.

Someone had called law enforcement.

She heard the crunching of glass behind her as Blondie followed her through the doors, humming an upbeat tune.

"You gonna tell me your name or do I have to guess?"

The Spartan looked over her shoulder at the girl's lilac eyes, the girl leaning forward as she stared at the Spartan's visor. Behind the visor, 141 frowned. The girl seemed to almost be…forcing herself to be cheerful. That wasn't good. She sighed and opened her mouth to respond, but what she meant to say was shoved aside.

"Classified." The word jumped to her lips before she could stop it, and then she was moving, her armor fading from view as she instinctively activated the active camouflage she always installed in her suits. A quick peek back showed the blond shrugging nonchalantly as she swung her leg over the seat of a streamlined motorbike colored bright yellow. The girl gunned the engine and took off with a plume of exhaust in the night air, the bike roaring as it tore off down the road.

The Spartan cursed herself. She had neglected to follow Torchwick to figure out who the blond was to her, but she had left without even a question asked in the blonde's direction. Now she had no answers and Torchwick was in the wind.

Fuck my life, she grumbled as she moved down the street, deactivating her cloak after a few minutes as she clamped her rifle to her back, grumbling to herself the entire time she walked. This was one of the many times she despised ONI and the UNSC for taking her for Project ORION II. She was pretty sure she was a lot different when she was younger, before training and augmentation. But after all that and all the loss she had endured over the last decade, she knew she wasn't the same person from before.

If I found my family… she thought to herself as she wandered aimlessly through the streets of Vale. Would they even recognize me? Could I be more than a Soldier for them?

It was a question she had asked herself many times over the last decade. What would her life be like if ONI hadn't taken her for ORION II? She would never know, because thanks to them, she was a Spartan, through and through.

141 sighed as she looked around. The street around her was completely empty save for a couple silent vehicles. The only light was from the street lamps and the building before her.

Directly in front of her was a shop called 'From Dust till Dawn'. Probably a Dust shop. Surprised its still open this late, she thought to herself as she peeked at the chronometer on her HUD. Might as well refill on ammo. Not that I used that much back at the club. Could probably get some info and directions from the owner. Curse my horrible sense of direction. Good thing my HUD's compass works, otherwise I wouldn't be able to find anything!

The Spartan rolled her shoulders and reached for the door, her free hand going to her helmet as she pushed it open. She expected the shop to be mostly empty, with only the employees there to help her. However, she was greeted with the sight of an old man in a light green shirt and faded red apron being held at gunpoint by three attackers.

Two of the men she somewhat recognized. They were Junior's men, the goons dressed in black suits with blood red ties, their eyes covered in matching slanting sunglasses. The one in charge was…

"Well, well," she intoned under her helmet as her silver eyes locked onto Roman Torchwick's white-suited form. All three men snapped around at her voice, their faces paling slightly at the sight of the nearly seven-foot tall soldier standing behind them "Talk about luck."

One of Hei Xiong's men immediately attack, swinging his katana at her neck. She responded by grabbing his wrist before squeezing, crushing the bones under her steel grip. The man screamed in agony as he tried to pull away, but a black clad fist rocketed into his throat, crushing his wind-pipe and shutting him up permanently. As the man slumped to the ground, 141 took his blade and whipped it towards the other goon, who was just starting to move. The blade impaled the man through the chest, the force from the throw knocking him off his feet to slide across the floor, a streak of scarlet ichor forming under him.

Torchwick, seeing his men slaughtered with ease, decided to engage the Spartan in CQC. His cane streaked through the air to collide with the palm of her hand, where her absurd strength began to crush the metal in her grip. Her free hand dropped to her thigh, where her sidearm was sitting quietly. The crime-boss decided to throw a punch at 141's head. Technically, she could've dodged, but honestly there was no point. Unless he was at least as strong as a Spartan, that punch wasn't going to do anything.

His fist impacted the side of her titanium plated helmet, her head not moving in the slightest as she heard the cracking of bone. Torchwick released his cane and screamed, holding his bleeding, broken hand to his chest as he let out a string of profanities as he took several steps back.

141 lifted her black-clad leg and kicked the man in the midsection, knocking him off his feet as she spun around, catching the red blades streaking towards her back in the palms of her hands. She tore the weapons away as she spun, leg lashing out to collide with the men's skulls. They went flying into a; thankfully; bare shelf across the store, their necks broken and faces utterly destroyed from her blow.

Time since engagement: five point three seconds.

The Spartan turned to the downed crime-boss, only for the man to have gotten to his feet. Evidently, he decided that if punching her wasn't going to work, tackling her would. Torchwick collided with her midsection, the force from his attempted tackle barely moving her half-an-inch. The man looked up at her in terror, his eyes locking onto her silver visor. The Spartan kneed him in the gut, the man's breath whooshing from his lungs as he went down, gagging as he tried to breath, unable to act as the Spartan pulled his arms behind his back as her free hand went to her belt, drawing a zip-cord from her belt to bind his hands together.

"Wh—who are you?!" Torchwick croaked out as his breath returned to him.

The Spartan rose to her full height; helmet turned towards her downed quarry. "Sierra-141."

Evidently, the owner of the shop had hit the silent alarm, because not a minute after she had tied up the crime-boss, several white-black cruisers topped with red-blue lights had screamed to a stop in front of the shop, two uniformed officers; one of them having a pair of horns curling up over the top of his head; stepped into the store. The human officer had taken one look at the dead men and had instantly backed out of the store, 141's enhanced ears picking up the sound of him vomiting around the corner very clearly.

The police had taken Torchwick into custody, and had insisted that the Spartan return to the station with them. Since she had a great deal of respect for law enforcement officers, she complied without complaint, gingerly climbing into one of the cruisers, the Spartan wincing as the vehicle dropped several inches from her immense weight with a groan of protest.

Upon arriving at the station, she had been relieved of her weapons before being escorted to an interrogation room. The Spartan had taken one look at the chair that had been supplied and had opted for leaning against the wall, making sure to stand in full view of the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

After about five minutes, someone not a police officer had arrived. The person in question being a blond woman with jade green eyes with small glasses on the bridge of her nose. She was dressed in a white, pleated long-sleeved top with an opening to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. Her forearms were covered in a pair of gauntlet cuffs. She wore a black pencil skirt and matching stockings with heeled shoes. She wore a black cape with tiny arrows at the end, the inside of the garment a light purple color.

The woman had taken a seat in the chair, her green eyes attempting to piercing her silver visor. They had been silent for about ten minutes before the woman finally spoke.

"Who—no, what are you?"

"Classified." The Spartan responded simply.

The woman scowled. "And which question does that answer?"

"Both."

The woman's scowled deepened, and she looked to be right about to lose her cool when the door opened, drawing both their attention as a man with snow white hair, light brown eyes and glasses, clad in a dark green suit with a matching green scarf walked in carrying a cup of steaming liquid. The man wore a soft smile on his face as he placed his mug on the table and calmly sat in the chair right next to the blond. He motioned to the chair across from him.

"Please, sit." His tone was curious, but respectful.

"Can't."

"And why is that?"

"Too heavy. The chair wouldn't be able to hold me."

The man nodded softly as he laced his fingers together, that soft smile never leaving his face. "You know, it's considered bad manners to hold a conversation when wearing a fully enclosed helmet." He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The Spartan watched him for a moment before pushing off the wall, her hands going up to her helmet to hit the release. The helm gave a hiss of air as she twisted and pulled, her black-red hair falling to her jaw-line on the right side as her wolf ears twitched on top of her head to get the blood flowing to them. She placed her helmet on the table and looked at the pair. She blinked a couple times to adjust her eyes, though she frowned when she saw their faces.

"You two look like you've seen a ghost."

The man shook himself and grabbed the datapad he had placed on the tabletop. He pressed a few buttons, and swiped through several things before he turned the tablet to her. "The woman on the left, does she look familiar to you?"

The Spartan frowned as she took the pad and looked at the image. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest. The woman in the image looked just like her, right down to the wolf ears and silver eyes ONI had been so obsessed over.

It was like looking in a mirror, with only slight differences. Like the lack of scar along her right cheekbone, the lack of the focused gaze of a veteran soldier. But besides that, exactly the same.

"Where did you get this?" her tone was short and strict, her hand tightening around the pad enough for the material to begin straining.

The man took a sip of his coffee. "That woman is a former student. Summer Rose. A number of years ago, she disappeared on a mission. No explanation. No body to be found. Her daughter disappeared from her home a couple weeks later. Her name was—"

"Ruby…" the Spartan said her name for the first time in years. "Ruby Rose…"

Ruby Rose… she mused. Sounds…right.

There was a long pause as the two adults looked at each other. "We assumed you were dead, Ms. Rose. You've been missing for ten years."

The pad cracked in her hands as Ruby took a deep breath, a million emotions flying through her head as she kept her face passive. Fucking ONI! Always telling us that our parents had sold us or that they didn't care. No, they just stole me from my home for their fucking ORION II Project.

"I have a family?" Silver eyes rose to look at the man.

He nodded silently as he took the blonde's pad. He typed a few keys and handed the pad to her.

The pad held an image of a burly blond-haired man sitting next to a man with graying black hair dressed in a gray suit with a tattered red cape, the man taking a swig from a canteen as his light red irises focused on the camera out the corner of his eye. Sitting between them was the girl from the club, the teen sitting with her legs spread out and leaning back on her hands, a forced smile on her face as her lilac eyes regarded the camera, sweat covering her body and her face flushed from what seemed to be the aftermath of an intense training session.

"Yes. Your father, Taiyang Xiao Long. Your adopted uncle, Qrow Branwen. And your older sister, Yang Xiao Long."

Ruby studied the photo with laser focus, going over every single detail, her eyes focusing on Yang. Her expression, her eyes, her body language.

"Yang…she doesn't look okay."

Yang's face just screamed depression. Her lilac eyes barely had any life to them and her smile was more than obviously forced. In the photo she was wearing a red tank-top with a black burning heart emblem over her left breast. Her forearms where clad in what appeared to be training gauntlets, her legs clad in running shorts.

The man's face took a solemn look. "Yes, she took yours and your mother's deaths very hard. It was touch and go for several years, but she found a singular purpose a few years ago, and I believe that is the only reason she is still with us."

Ruby's head snapped up. "She was suicidal?"

"For a time, yes. Though she often claimed otherwise, her actions spoke louder than her words." He reached over and swiped the image right, moving to a file for a Beacon Academy, the title of which being 'Student File: Yang Xiao Long.' "She has dedicated her life to becoming a Huntress; to protect the citizens of Remnant from any and all threats." The man paused for a moment before reaching over and flicking the screen of the data pad over to a different page. An application form. "Classes start next week and; if I remember correctly; we still have a spot open. A spot I believe you can fill, Ms. Rose…"