Welcome to my tale and greetings. You are in for an unusual story. I admit, I am young and a budding writer, but I hope to make my debut with this story. I will update when I can. I am unsure of what the future holds for my life currently, seeing as I am stuck in a miasma of confusion due to moving and getting my first job. This serves as my introduction on becoming a professional writer as well as an outlet.

Most fanfics have a hero starting from scratch, or being an idiot or a child and have their maturity develop. This can be seen primarily in the Harry Potter and Pokemon franchises. This is not one of those stories.

This is a harrowing tale of a man who doesn't understand this world he was placed in. This is a tale of a man who made himself a career paved with death and carnage. Who relied on solely himself, a mindless drive.

This is not a fanservice fic. There will be romance. There will be epic moments, but it will never be easy. This is a self insert in name only.

Warning: Sexual themes, Mature themes, brutal descriptions of violence, gore, character death, drug use and/or abuse, alcohol use and/or abuse, rape, and physical abuse is within this story. It is meant for mature audiences, never for those faint of heart. This is the real world as it truly is, and a much, much more realistic depiction of RWBY.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the original characters held within. All RWBY content within is owned by Rooster teeth.

Without further adieu, enjoy the story.

No lemons are in this chapter.

There are some things a man should never have to see. Some things that occur in our cruel world that are wrought by cruel individuals, hidden from the view of the general public.

Resonov Halicapter is a Merchant of Death. Well, was a Merchant of Death. He was a Hungarian arms dealer raised by a Russian family, his father a ruthless business man and his mother a quiet, adept doctor. She excelled in illegal administrations, aiding her husband when his "people" inevitably were wounded. Unfortunately Resonov did not inherit his father's boundaries when he inherited his father's gang. It was more of an illegal militia, if anything, and he capitalized on the opportunities given to him. He pushed his forces more into Mafia proportions, and fifty years later, at the age of sixty seven, he had a massive monopoly on illegally acquired weaponry, fueling terrorists in the Iraqi-American conflict as well as any country with money to spare.

Resonov's cause of death was a 45. ACP round to his heart.

Mickelia Uniseif used to be a prominent assassin. She rose through the ranks due to her ability to go from seducing someone to actively participating in a firefight with no change in skill. Her most recent assignment was the elimination of the English Prime Minister.

She was found with her intestines spilled on the pristine carpet of one of the most prestigious English Hotels, in her room. Several lacerations on her figure indicated a fight, but the lack of another's blood on the knife she clasped and at all in the general room hinted at the assailant was unscathed. However, scratches on her knife hinted at a much more plausible scenario: her assailant was simply armored.

Lieutenant General Sarah Bridgette was formerly a United States Army official in charge of Logistics. Her rise through the Army's hierarchy was assisted by her father, a retired Major General who worked with Eisenhower during World War Two. Bridgette quickly saw that there wasn't enough money to be made through the Army's official pay, and so started the largest drug ring in the history of the United States Military. She was scheduled for a flight to Washington D.C. from the San Jaquine military base in California. She was executed before she departed.

Her cause of death was a 7.62 Nato Round, fired from 1124 yards away, in a van parked on a raised road. The van, as well as any bullet casings, were not found. The sniper fired when she was stepping outside, to not draw any attention via noise that could have come from glass breaking.

Daniel Rivers was a grad student who flunked out of higher colleges, and eventually got wrapped up in General Bridgette's ring when he joined the U.S. Air Force. Due to his impressive management talent, he became the Europe department of her drug ring. After Bridgette's death, he monopolized on the assets she left behind and funneled them into Armed Vehicles. He quickly became an example of what drug cartels should aspire to be.

His charred remains were found in the wreckage of a M1 Abrams Armored Assault Vehicle. Shrapnel was embedded in the man's body. The cause of the AAV's destruction was a C-4 charge planted on it's undercarriage, just enough of the explosive compound to pierce through the metal underside and set of the shells within. Several large puncture holes suggested an additional, previous assault from another AAV.

William Holloway was raised in Stockton, California to a veteran father who specialized in business. William got decent grades, though his true flying colors came from his creative and writing aptitude. However, it was never allowed to flourish, as the idealistic kid was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps on the onset of the Iraqi-American war, and due to his excellence in his high school's JROTC program. He was one of thousands that were meant to be killed within the first eight months of the conflict. However, due to William's startling affinity for Tactics and leadership along with his sheer lethality, he was selected for a much more difficult assignment than the one he was fated to die in.

Holloway captured an enemy base utilizing the underground sewage system, razed several enemy weapon's facilities and barracks, captured a Brigadier General, killed three Colonels, and assassinated an Iraqi politician in the span of two hours, through judicious usage of the elimination of Surface to Air defense systems (grenade launchers are surprisingly effective against munition piles), precise use of Close Air Support, and the training of forty men armed with Heavy Ballistic armor, Light Machine Guns, rocket launchers, and grenade launchers.

He was rewarded the Navy Cross, Silver Star, and the Purple Heart due to his exemplary leadership and efficient ruthlessness in combat. He suffered four casualties and eight additional wounded, to the enemies' six thousand and forty two casualties, and twenty seven wounded, with three captured total. One survived, the General.

Information received from the interrogation of said General lead to another assault upon three air bases. One assault Holloway participated in, with similar results as above. William was swiftly promoted to Lieutenant Colonel due to the merit he earned. (War time promotion requirements are drastically different than peace time requirements for most countries, and the United States was forced to follow due to the pressure from the UN. Nuclear weaponry was similarly taken away from the US due to an additional clause in the Geneva Convention, inspired by the recent onslaught of the Third World War.)

William earned another Purple Heart and the Bronze Star, before being promoted once again to Colonel before being transferred to the Intelligence and Espionage division of the Army.

William Holloway was the cause of death of the four targets listed above.

William's cause of death was intense radiation and a shockwave. Later reports attribute the Nuclear Detonation to a manual detonation from William, after US forces got to a safe distance. It was determined that William realized that his efforts were futile and embraced death, instead of letting the warhead launch.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, that was only the beginning of his tale.

"Do you believe him to be worthy?"

"No. But he is what we require."

"How do we define 'being worthy' anyways? Pure of heart? Their intentions?"

"We base their value on the principals in their heart. Unfortunately, the Chosen's principals will be irreversibly changed due to the transplantation."

"We can only hope for the best. The world failed when we gave them their heroes. What the world needs is a professional."

Jaune Arc was an idealistic, fun loving kid with ambitions he did not work hard for. Instead he decided to forge his documents, not letting his family's lack of support deter him from chasing his admittedly naive dreams.

This naive boy, for he could not be called a man, was admirable in many ways. Full of potential. Ready to take on the world, without knowing what darkness truly lurks in said realm.

Said naive boy was assaulted with memories of another man, for he could not have been called a boy. This man bled, sweat, and cried for what he believed in and strived to do. And ultimately he died for what he believed in, for the people who didn't love him but put their lives in his hands.

Jaune Arc, also known as William Holloway, clutched his head and kneeled over in his shower. It was a day before initiation, and he had no idea why he was being fused with this extraterrestrial spirit...and why he accepted it so easily.

Because these two males became one. A lifetime of hopes and naive ambitions tempered by the knowledge of a cruel reality. Crushed dreams were renewed by the youth, the quiet creativity of the Holloway binding with the loud exuberance and love of video games from the Arc.

William learned that his new weaponry was a compactable shield and an ancient blade humming with a dead energy. Jaune learned how to place a 7.62 bullet into someone's heart from over a mile away, while both parties were moving.

Jaune was horrified by the monster that had merged with him. William was horrified by this idealistic boy that dared to call him a monster while ignoring why he had to be that way.

And that lasted for a minute before Jaune Arc, who was deciding to take the lead, fully merged with William Holloway and became one person. He shuddered but ultimately pushed the horrors away from his mind, and came to grips that there were things in the world that he couldn't bear to experience.

He calmly stood up, calm only because William gave him that warrior's mind, and rinsed himself off. He stepped out, drying himself and dressing his suddenly unfamiliar body. A pair of jeans partnered with a grey sweater and white sneakers. Disgustingly impractical, the militaristic side of his mind commented, and naive Jaune hummed in agreement after a realization.

He stepped out, noticing his gait is changed and the way he observed each room entirely before he steps fully into it. That was definitely new, and alarming. Glancing at the news station he realized they were probably withholding most of the actual facts, experiences with media and missions not getting along coming to the forefront of his mind.

Jaune grabbed and equipped his sword and shield into awkward placements. That's gonna have to change soon. A complete armor and outfit reworkment was first priority, the acquirement of a sidearm his second. But where would he get the money?

At the mention of thievery popping into his mind, Jaune blanched and shook his head. He stepped out and walked to the airport where he would depart. It was a thirty minute walk and he was already ten minutes late. He set off into a jog instead, getting a feel for his other life's abilities and how well this body would hold up to the challenge.

He kept thinking of different ways to earn money, noticing absentmindedly that he didn't talk to himself anymore and was comfortable imagining different possibilities or realities without feeling immature.

William reached his destination, having taken over for an assessment of his body, and was out of breath and disgusted at that fact. He was one of the last boarding, and gave his pass to the scowling flight attendant. Ignoring her, he stepped into the large transport ship and selected to stand next to a window and trash can, holding onto a metal bar above him. He looked around, taking in the colorful clothing and flashy weaponry, over complicated though he supposed they did have their uses. He always preferred many weapons in case he lost one, and he always had his excelling CQC skills to fall back on in a pinch. Or if he was feeling particularly brutal.

He ignored the squeals and a message from a certain Witch, in favor of suppressing his air sickness and using his newfound willpower to force it all down. He kept quiet, chuckling bitterly. He was an ace pilot, yet he will have to go through so much training and reconditioning to get to where he once was.

It just seemed like he was so much more skilled and experienced, and yet this body isn't allowing him to do a fraction of what he once could.

He got out once they landed, throwing up into a trashcan to the disgust of an orange themed girl. He glared at her, challenging her to be anything less than sympathetic. She scoffed and flipped her hair, walking away with her high heels clicking.

He idly noted that high heels were such an impractical combat shoe, but he noticed more than half of the females here were wearing them. Including a white themed girl, rich by the looks of her, scolding a much too young looking red themed girl with a short skirt and black stockings, and black, stylish combat boots. He approved of her choice of footwear, and with nothing better to do, Jaune moved to confront high heels.

"-ust! You can't just shake Dust! Do you know how much this case costs?!" The white hair girl was shrieking, glaring at the small one with a look of exasperation. The younger girl stuttered, shaking her head and was unable to form words at all. Jaune decided to speak.

"From where I am standing, it seems to be a miscalculation on this girl's side of the story. Surely we can come to an agreement instead of publicly embarrassing her and causing a scene?" Jaune waved his hand to the black haired girl, smiling softly to her and not dropping his smile as he moved to stand between them. He let the younger girl behind him back away and he followed suit, achieving an appropriate distance.

He idly mused that he felt more wise. He was able to articulate his words better and not cast naive judgement to either of them.

The white haired girl switched her glare to him, huffing but allowing her features to soften. "I do suppose neither of you know who I am? Typical. I suppose such a dolt would have been unable to factor in the simple notion of not running into a person."

The girl behind him gasped indignantly, but Jaune held up a hand. He sighed and palmed his face.

"From where I am standing, you are an arrogant princess heralding herself as the most intelligent person in the room. You'd be wrong, unfortunately, seeing as an intelligent person would have factored in her assailant's side of the story. Perhaps she was in a panicked flee from something, or in rapid search of a lost friend? Of course, such calculations seem beyond such a..privileged one as yourself."

Jaune remarked idly that despite the much easier way of just calling the White haired girl a bitch, the soldier newly inside him found it much more fun to play a bully at their own game, and so matched her insults with his own cut of the same cloth.

She huffed, steaming at the rate, and stormed off, determined not to be late at the behest of such..vagrants. "I do not have time to deal with you idiots. My father will hear of this!"

Did she just quote Harry Potter at him? He blinked before snickering softly. It seems that he remembers media from the other realm just as if it was his own. He idly mused if he could make the movies from that realm and spin a profit off of it.

The soldier from another realm turned and regarded the black haired girl with an aura of confidence. Jaune allowed the victorious smirk to creep on his face, that was the first time he was able to beat another at a battle of wits. He held out his hand for the young girl to shake.

"Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. At least according to my mother's failing flirtation advice." The soldier within him tempered the corniness and allowed him to realize that he had no game, whatsoever, and he forced himself to git gud.

She blinked before smiling at him, letting out a short laugh. "No better than my father's own advice!" She shook his head, seeming nervous at the entire exchange.

"Hmm. We have an opening ceremony to attend, however. Would you accompany me?" He swept his hand to the direction the other students were filtering into. She swallowed anxiously, but nodded, taking the lead and running.

"You are right! We are gonna be late!" She grabbed his arm and dragged him along, to an astonished Jaune. He mused that this was definitely one way to make a friend.

I just want to note that the autocorrect for "git gud" is "hit God", and that any who read this story is surely going to Hell, seeing as Satan is probably Ghost co-writing this.

On any note, I do hope you all enjoy this Pilot chapter. I suppose I could have done better, but what is the point of a writer writing if not to improve their craft?

As always, good evening and love you all. Ciao!