The Grey Freelancer of Remnant

Chapter One

"Recovery One"


Agent Washington fired another burst from his BR55 Battle Rifle. His foe, the mysterious and dangerous Meta, formerly known as Agent Maine, retaliated with a barrage of grenades, launched from his alien grenade launcher. The explosive projectiles slammed into the cover Washington was hiding behind, showering the grey-and-yellow freelancer in rocky debris. Washington fired two more bursts before ducking under another projectile from The Meta as it whizzed overhead and slammed into a stone wall behind him.

As the firefight continued, Wash's partner, Agent South Dakota came up behind him, firing her own battle rifle at The Meta. It seemed that her implantation with the Delta A.I fragment had gone well and she was ready to fight.

"Wash, I'm here," she called out.

"Good," he replied, "I need help on the left, this guy moves fast, so keep your eyes open," he instructed. When his purple-and-green companion did not respond, Wash became concerned. "South, you okay?" he asked, showing a small amount of concern. Ever since the Epsilon implantation, he had been colder to everyone around him, a great departure from the carefree soldier he had been before.

"She is experiencing difficulties with my presence," Delta replied in her stead.

"How difficult?" Washington inquired.

"I'm fine," South assured him, "let's get this guy."

"No," Wash replied stoically.

"No?" South asked incredulously.

"See that ship?" Wash gestured to a purple craft that was landed on a pad not too far from their position. "You get to it and take off," he ordered, "get yourself and, more importantly, Delta back to base. I'll cover you as best I can."

"Wash, your armor will not compensate for your wounds," Delta informed him.

"You're hit?" South exclaimed.

"Only twice, I'm fine," Wash quickly assured her. "Move on my mark," he said, loading a fresh magazine into his BR55, "sync."

"But..." South protested.

"Sync?" Wash pressed.

"Sync," South replied reluctantly.

"Move!" Wash ordered, getting up and moving forwards.

Not before he had taken three steps did Agent Washington feel a burning pain in his back as he heard a single burst leave South's Battle Rifle. He collapsed with a cry of pain and shock, dropping his rifle.

"Alarm! Friendly target! Cease Fire!" Delta instructed South.

"Calm down, this just stacks the deck in our favor," she told the AI coldly.

Meanwhile, Wash lay on the ground, bleeding from three wounds in his back. One round had struck the healing unit, damaging it but not rendering it inoperable. Wash, through the excruciating pain, turned it on. South, it seemed, had betrayed him and was walking towards The Meta confidently. Rather than wait to hear what she had to say, the imposing rouge fired two shots from his brute shot before South got the chance to open her mouth.

"Son of a bitch!" she exclaimed as she was thrown back to the ground.

The freelancer quickly scrambled to her feet and ran off in the direction she had come from, where Wash, who's healing unit had begun to spark, lay motionless.

As The Meta's shots continued to explode all around her, South realized she wouldn't be able to run away.

"Delta, run the bubble shield!" she ordered.

"Alarm, shield component damaged, it will not function at optimal capacity," Delta informed his new caretaker.

"Juts do it!" South ordered hotly.

"Complying," Delta responded dutifully.

All the while, The Meta cam ever closer, firing round after round at the purple-and-green freelancer. Meanwhile, Wash's healing unit finally gave out, the damage it had sustained being too much for it. This happened at the same time South activated her bubble shield, the damage it had sustained from Meta's brute shot causing it to short out. The healing unit exploded in a massive, green orb while the shield collapsed in a flash of blinding, white light. Suddenly, the battleground was clear. Agent Washington, South Dakota, and The Meta were nowhere to be seen. They were gone.


Wash was, quite simply put, confused. Seconds ago, he had lying on the ground, face down, waiting to die. He remembered feeling his healing unit begin to short out. How did I get here? he though. Now, he was starring up into a clear, midnight sky, trees visible on every side, their peaks reaching up into the sky. Somehow, he felt different, he couldn't quite place how, but different nonetheless. He was still in excruciating pain, the three holes in his back were still gushing blood.

He looked to his side and saw that his battle rifle was not too far away from him. He crawled back and leaned against one of the many trees surrounding him. As he did do, he heard a growl come from his left. Now is not a good time to be attacked by wolves, he thought to himself as he drew his M6 sidearm. He turned to face the creature who had come for him, only he was shocked to find that it was no wolf, but instead, a massive, black-furred creature with bony spikes protruding from it's back and a bone-white face with thin, red streaks. It had a bear-like appearance, with stocky, muscular legs and a strong body.

"Ah hell," Wash mumbled to himself.

He raised his pistol and began unloaded several 45 caliber rounds into it's skull, but to no avail, the rounds seemed to just faze through the large creature, doing no damage whatsoever.

"That can't be good," the wounded freelancer observed as the mag in his handgun went dry.

The creature quickly leapt forwards in an attempt to slash the wounded freelancer, who attempted to dodge the attack, though, due to his injuries, he was unable to move quick enough and was sent hurtling into another tree as he was tossed through the air by a powerful swipe. Wash felt a rib crack as he slammed into the solid trunk of another tree. The defeated freelancer laid on his side, he saw the creature moving towards him as his vision began to fade. Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, a man wielding a massive sythe sprung from the trees, shearing the monster in half with one the beast collapsed, the man moved towards the fallen form of Washington, who had just lost consciousness.


When Agent Washing Awoke, he found himself starring up into a white ceiling. He heard the familiar beeping of medical equipment and looked down at himself o find that he was in a hospital gown. He was clearly in some kind of hospital.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Wash heard someone say. Something bout their voice was oddly familiar, though Wash couldn't tell why.

"What's going on? Where am I?" Wash snapped off his questions in quick succession. He noticed something odd, his voice seemed... higher pitched.

"Calm down, you're safe," the man assured him. Wash looked to his side to find a white with messy, white hair. He wore a green scarf and a neat, black jacket with a matching vest.

"That doesn't answer my questions," Wash stated bluntly, "Who are you?"

The man chuckled. "I am professor Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon Academy, to answer where you are, you are currently in the Beacon Academy infirmary," the man, now revealed to be named Ozpin explained patiently.

"Beacon Academy? I've never heard of it. What system is it in? Are there any major cities nearby?" Wash inquired.

"So I was right," Oz[in said quietly to himself.

"What was that?" Wash asked.

"It would appear that my theory was correct," said Ozpin, "you are not from around here, are you?"

"No," answered Washington, "wherever here is."

"You are currently on the world of Remnant, in the land of Vale, one of the four kingdoms of Remnant. Nearby you will find the capitol city with the same name, does any of this sound familiar to you?" Ozpin asked.

"What? No, I've never heard of Remnant," answered Wash "forgive me for not being up to date on all the colonies of the UNSC."

"UNSC? My, my you really are not from around here," said Ozpin. "You are far away from any UNSC or anything like it, whether or not it's in our universe or another is completely unknown, as we have had no interaction with them. You are quite far from home."

Wash's eyes widened. "That can't be right," he said. "Sorry, old man, but I don't have time for your games," he said coldly, sitting up and immediately going back down due to the pain in his back.

"I wouldn't recommend that," advised Ozpin.

"Thanks for the advice," Wash remarked dryly. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that I'm in some kind of.. alternate reality, or some shit?"

Ozpin chuckled. "Yes, yes I do. One week ago, you arrived in the Emerald Forest, where you were attacked by a creature known as an Ursa, one of the Grim. You were then rescued by one of my huntsmen, Qurow."

"Grim?" Wash inquired.

"Evil creatures, made of pure darkness and hate. They come in many forms and none of them are good," said Ozpin, "huntsmen and huntresses, on the other hand, are the guardians of the four kingdoms, of our people, they train at our huntsmen academies to face the forces of darkness. I am headmaster of the huntsmen academy in Vale." Wash merely sat in a stunned silence. "When you found, you were discovered with several weapons, is this correct?"

"Yes," answered Washington, "a BR55 Service Rifle and an M6C Magnum, as well as several types of grenades and a combat knife."

"Hm, and do your people, wherever you are from, have soldiers fight at the age of seventeen?" Ozpin inquired.

"What, seventeen? Alright, just because I don;t have facial hair doesn't mean I'm a teenager," Wash replied vehemently.

"No, I'm afraid you are indeed seventeen. Whatever brought you here must have somehow altered you age, quite curious," observed Ozpin.

Wash pondered this. Seventeen? How can this be? I'm in my early twenties and, yet, here I am! Wash's thoughts raged inside of him. Ozpin passed the freelancer a mirror, which he looked into, only to find his seventeen-year-old face starring back up at him. Putting that aside, he continued with his questions. "How did you find me?" he asked.

"When you arrived here, our sensors went insane, energy readings unlike anything we had ever seem before," explained Ozpin. "Now, tell about yourself, where are you from? What's your name?"

"You can call me Agent Washington," Wash replied icily.

"What about your first name?" Ozpin pressed.

"That's... not important," Wash evaded the request.

"Well I disagree," stated Ozpin, "On Remnant, everyone's first name in massively important to their identity. I can only assume that it is the same way where you come from?"

"Yeah," Wash replied, "for most people it is, but most people haven't had their identity changed into tht of a killing machine. MY name is David, if you must know." Hearing his own first name, even if he was the one saying it, was strange. No one had ever referred to him as David during Project Freelancer. And, since the Epsilon incident, his identity had been even further replaced with that of Agent Washington.

"Now tell me about your world?" Ozpin pressed.

"Why should I?" asked Washington venomously.

"Well, after all, I am the reason you're still alive," Ozpin pointed out.

Wash sighed. "Alright, fine," he conceded.

He told the headmaster all about Earth and her colonies and about Project Freelancer. He told him of The Meta, who had once been his good friend Agent Maine. And, most importantly, he told him about how South had betrayed and shot him, leaving him to die. "Is it possible that South or The Meta could've possibly been transported here with me?"

"It's certainly possible," said Ozpin, "I will send teams out into the forest to find them."

"Good," said Wash, "Because if The Meta is here, we're all in danger."

"Ozpin nodded. "Understood," he said. Suddenly, his voice took a much more different, more serious tone. "I can help you, David," he said.

"First of all, don't call me that, secondly, what do you mean, help me?" Wash responded coldly.

"I know a lost soul when I see one, Agent Washington," he said. "I will track down your compatriots and help you leave Remnant on one condition."

Wash continued carefully. "What condition," he asked guardedly.

"That you stay here at Beacon and attend as both a student and as part of a team," said Ozpin.

"What? Why would I need to do that?" Wash asked incredulously. "Not only is learning to fight monsters completely ridiculous for me, but I cannot serve with a team. Every time I have, I've been betrayed and abandoned at one point or another. And, for another thing, my weapons don't even work on the Grim, so I'm completely useless."

"Not quite," said Ozpin. "While you were unconscious, my scientists reverse engineered your weaponry and remade it to be powered by dust."

"Dust?" inquired Wash. He had a feeling that it wasn't the normal kind of dust he was used to.

"Yes, dust," Ozpin affirmed, "It powers all of our weaponry and electricity. It is the one thing that, when weaponized, can be used to defeat the Grim."

"Even still, why do you want me at your school?" Wash persisted.

"Do you believe in destiny, Mister Washington?" Ozpin asked. When there was no response, he continued, "because I do., and I believe that fate has brought you to my doorstep, you were even de-aged to be the perfect age to attend your first year. If you attend Beacon, for once, you will have the chance to fight for something clear and good without being lied to, while fighting alongside a team you can trust. No mysterious A.I, no experimenting on team members."

Washington pondered this for a moment. Ozpin did have a point, he thought, fighting the Grim was a clearly good cause, something he could believe in, and, after all, maybe he was ready to give the team thing one last try. "Fine," he said, "I'll join you're school."

"Excellent," said Ozpin happily. "We'll have to exchange your armor for something... less conspicuous though."

"I can help with that," said Wash.

"And, from here on out, your name is David Washington, understood?" said Ozpin.

A new identity, thought Wash. "Roger that," he replied stiffly.

"Well, David Washington, I m pleased to inform you that you be attending Beacon Academy this year," said Ozpin. "Now," he continued, "allow me to show you your new weapons." Ozpin motioned for Wash to follow him. He led the ex-freelancer to a shelf on the other side of the room, where his new and improved equipment was waiting for him. "First, your rifle," said Ozpin, who had picked up Wash's Battle Rifle. Outwardly, there were no major differences.

"It doesn't look much different," commented Wash.

"Ah, but the inside is very different," replied Ozpin, who handed Wash a magazine for his rifle, only, iniside was not the standard 9.5x40mm rounds that Wash was used to. Instead, there were much more colorful rounds in the mag.

"What are these?" asked Wash.

"These are dust-powered bullets," answered Ozpin, "they will allow you to more effectively fight the Grim," he explained.

Wash nodded and felt the familiar rifle in his hands. As he moved up to the foregrip and felt an unfamiliar button on the side. Out of curiosity, he pressed it, and was very surprised when a retractable bayonet sprung out of the rifle, extending past the end of the barrel. Wash raised an eyebrow at the new feature. "A bayonet?" he inquired.

"Indeed," responded Ozpin, "having an easily-accessible melee combat option is rather important for fighting a fast-moving foe like the Grim, they also lack ranged capabilities, so the prefer to engage in melee combat," the professor explained. "In your time at Beacon, you will find that most student's weapons double as a firearm and melee weapon," Ozpin continued.

"What about my other weapons?" asked Wash.

"With your pistol we simply made it dust-powered," said Ozpin, "same for the grenades." Wash had four standard fragmentation grenades as well as four alien spike grenades, which were effective at launching shrapnel. "We also studied the design of your grenades and are working on replicating them so that you won't run out," continued Ozpin.

"Thank you," said Wash, breaking his cold exterior. In that moment, he felt as though he could trust Professor Ozpin. He made sure to keep wary, though. He still didn't know what to think about his new predicament.

"It's alright," replied Ozpin. "Now," he continued, "you need to get that new outfit."

After a process of choosing his clothes, Wash had settled on an outfit. A grey hoodie with yellow accents and basic blue jeans, with an easy-to-access holster at his side, where he kept his magnum. He kept his yellow-striped grey gauntlets and gloves from his old armor, as well as the boots and greaves. He had several ammunition and grenade pouches on his belt, as well as a sheath in which he kept his combat knife. He kept his BR55 slung over his shoulder. He certainly looked the part.

And, moments later, David Washington was set to begin his new life as an apprentice huntsman at Beacon Academy.


To Be Continued...

(A/N: Thank's for reading, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of The Grey Freelancer of Remnant Remastered. Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you thought of the chapter, any constructive feedback is appreciated.)