Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Any resemblance or mention to existing properties is part of the fic, a reference, or just something that I thought would be cool to include. Also, this fic is inspired by Chris7221's Divergence/Convergence works, and I would like to say he/she, but probably he, does a fine job.

Hatred will sprout

Suspicion and doubt

Friendships deny

While allegiances die

RWBY Volume 3 Soundtrack - Divide

I really thought the day couldn't get any more dull. Then again, maybe things would change for once in a long while.

My name is Ruby Rose. I am- was- a Huntress-in-training at Beacon Academy. That's kinda like an advanced technical school for awesome, monster-killing mercenaries, and I was probably the youngest one there. I mean, I did manage to get in two years early by impressing the headmaster, which was nice, but I felt like a square peg fitting in a round hole going to very prestigious academy prematurely.

However, Beacon was kind of utterly destroyed when some... despicable people came in and utterly destroyed the hopes and dreams of the some-1500 students at the institution. Long story short, they did some bad things, and now we were looking for them, and for answers. We'd come from the lonely island of Patch, west of the city of Vale, where we left my sister, Yang Xiao Long, and my dad, Taiyang Xiao Long behind. As much as I hated myself for abandoning them, this was importance exemplified compared to Yang's soul-crushing broken spirit. Maybe after we got to Haven Academy in the Kingdom of Mistral, they'd have the CCT back up and running and I could apologize to them face-to-face.

I was alone in the City of Mistral. Okay, no. That's not it. I was mostly alone in the City of Mistral, with only Jaune Arc, one of my only friends from Beacon Academy, with me as a companion. Now, don't get me wrong, he's nice and all, but he's kind of a klutz (and this is coming from me, of all people. Heck, I blew up Beacon's courtyard on my first day from a sneeze). His remaining teammates, Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren, were off doing their own thing. I never really wanted to intrude, but it was probably something to do with how they were, "not together-together," as Nora tended to put it with her and Ren.

Jaune and I were out job hunting. Yeah, not exactly the most glamourous thing that one could do in the coastal port city of Mistral, but what could you do when you were a group of misfit hunstmen-in-training with no school and no money? However, prospective employers were stingier than mean-spirited bankers. Apparently, students from Beacon weren't exactly trustworthy, given that they were apparently prone to break people's limbs and kill random strangers. Understandable, sure, but nonetheless, I wasn't exactly happy about it.

"Well, I'm sorry about this, but I don't really need the help of Huntsmen students right now." The manager wasn't particularly sleazy-looking, at least not as much as some other, unhappy, employers that they had gone to for a job. He was an average person in all senses possible. Average height, average complexion, average wardrobe taste. He ran a nervous hand through his green hair. His name tag read "Redd". "Ya really don't need to be here, though. We have lotsa workers around here. We're good on the whole employment-needed front."

I hung my head, immensely just tired at the fact that we couldn't get a job from the almost-literal rock bottom-est place ever. Heck, we even joked that Sanderson's Deli Meats and Cheeses was literally like the worst place ever to eat lunch. Of all time. So now, even they were denying us? I was just too weary of all the rejection we faced. Too many people telling us to "get lost, before you break someone's ankles or something," or "don't try to bring your bad luck from Vale to us," was doing nothing for our journey. We weren't even close to getting answers or justice, and our empty stomachs from walking around and chasing shadows wasn't helping our collective vibe. To be honest, I wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry until my problems went away. I settled to falling silent and drooping like a thirsty flower in my sullen atitude.

Jaune was not so easily broken. "What?! What in the hell are you talking about?! We saw a freaking 'Help Wanted' sign when we walked in!" He was right about that. It was bright crimson, like spilled blood, contrasted with white as white as snow, you couldn't miss it.

"Sorry, dude," Redd replied, not willing to look the two of us in the eye, "That must'a been like a clerical error, or somethin'."

"That's bullsh-"

I quickly snatched him back by his hood, as soon as I heard my cue. "Language! Jaune, there are children here," I sternly told him. It was true. Sanderson's marketed itself as a family restaurant with a highly aggressive ad campaign. As a result, no matter how repulsively dull their deli sandwiches and burgers tended to be, kids dragged their parents along to the restaurant like a miser drew wagons full of money to the bank. The children in question had started staring at us. Their looks of puzzlement and wonder at our fairly... exciting choice of clothing and weapons was more than enough to make me uncomfortable.

I have never had much luck socializing. I had the social skills of a perpetually miffed caveman, and it tended to show. Heck, my first friend at Beacon was... Jaune. Who was a compressed spring of rage at the moment. Jaune gave me a pointed glare that could set a patch of wet grass ablaze.

"We're leaving," I told him, even more sternly. He seemed to come to his senses, relaxing, albeit more than a bit reluctant to.

"Fine," he replied, with enough bitterness to make a cup of dark brew green with envy. He stormed off, and shut the front door to the establishment with the bang of a gunshot. I gave Redd a look that I hoped was as apologetic as I felt.

"That piece of crap! That good-for-nothing asshole!"

I winced at Jaune's swearing. That wasn't really a good habit for him to pick up. Dad always told me, "A foul mouth eats foul food." He wasn't really the best at metaphors, but I kind of got what he was saying: if you live a vulgar life, you won't live the way you want to, not without some difficulty.

"Jaune, it's not like to you to be so angry all the time," I said, emphasizing the word angry. "Come on, let's go get some ice cream, or something. Maybe that'll do the trick."

Jaune let out a huff of indignance before letting his hands, which were curled into fists, fall to his sides. We had all taken running away from home in a... less-than-luxurious fashion, and we all had some sort of grime buildup on our garments. Jaune's comparatively mundane outfit had taken the worst of it. His black hoodie was darkened and lightened in places from sweat and dirt and his shoulder pauldrons and chestplate were tarnished and dented from heavy use. His normally-patchwork jeans were even more ripped in places, and his gloves were badly wrinkled and just plain dirty. His blonde hair was unkempt, and his eyes possessed bags that you could carry groceries in. But I don't imagine that my own appearance was much better.

He at least relaxed somewhat when I suggested ice cream. "Yeah, maybe that's the ticket. Who knows? Maybe we'll find a shop that will service us. And maybe they'll have cookies, don't'cha think?" I, myself, perked up at the suggestion. Jaune could read me just as well as I could read him, sometimes. That's just kind of what happens between friends, you know?

"Alright! Let's go!" I dashed off, barely noticing the crimson rose petals following in my wake, and Jaune's distant "Hey!" of annoyance. "I'll meet you at the Bask in Robinson's on Creek Avenue!" Ren had made us memorize the map of the city when we arrived here, so I was pretty sure of the way to the sweets shop. I felt bad for leaving Jaune, but cookies couldn't wait on anybody! I love them; I live them. They're my favorite food, besides strawberries, so of course I would get a great bowlful of the heavenly snack before anyone else did! It was off to the races! Maybe I would even catch the owner in a good mood, and he would give me an extra portion!

I sprinted through the afternoon rush-hour crowd, and convinced myself that Jaune might be there, waiting for me, as I stretched my legs and semblance for the first time in a good, long while.

Okay, I didn't quite make it to the dessert shop.

"Why do they have to make these roads so hard to follow, anyway?" I wondered aloud. Mistvan was like a maze, and I had gotten lost in its winding and confusing avenues and crossroads like a rat would in search of cheese. The sky had grown dark, and twilight started to spread a subdued orange afterglow in the night. The sadly shattered mirror of a moon hung low in the sky, casting an equally subdued, pale glow upon the city. However, the buildings cast shadows all around me, and I had to squint and strain my eyes in order to catch even the barest glint of light to navigate by with.

There weren't many pedestrians still up and about; the only people that I'd seen at this hour were an older couple, neither of whom seemed to be in the conversing mood. They had shied away from me, and quickly jogged off before they could come within earshot of my voice. I guess the public opinion of Huntresses was still pretty bad.

I walked along, sullenly. Heck, I couldn't even use my scroll to call Jaune and the others, since the CCT was still down. The "ultimate innovative breakthrough in international communication" admittedly wasn't designed very well. I mean, who makes anything where if one little part goes awry, it kills the entire system?

Now, was it a left at Baker Street, or a right? I considered taking a Lien coin from my pocket and flipping it, but that might not be wise in the dark like this-

"Ruby! Ruby, where are you?" What the-? I jerked my head to the direction of the voice that called my name. I started to call out for that person when I saw a person who, by no possible explanation, was there, in the middle of Mistvan City.

My half-sister, Yang Xiao Long, stood at the other end of the boulevard, across from me. Her bright golden locks were easy to pick out from the drab, dreary gray of the buildings around her, and her pale skin shone like silver in the moonlight. I couldn't make out her clothes or anything, but somehow, I knew it was her. Call it sister's intuition, but there was not a way on Remnant that that wasn't Yang. I mean, not a lot of people have a mane that goes down to their thighs, right?

"Yang? What are you doing here?" I called to her, but she didn't seem to hear me. Instead, she plodded along the sidewalk and ducked into a nearby alley. I put on a burst of my semblance, leaving behind more rose petals as I ran doggedly after my sister, like a missile homing in on a target. In a matter of a couple of seconds, I had reached the alley she had disappeared down into, but saw no sign of her. "Yang?!" I called out, hoping for a response.

I got one.

A low, guttural growl was my only response as a dark shape leapt from underneath a couple of cardboard boxes and piles of refuse in the stygian backstreet, and I soon came face-to-muzzle with a pitch-black furred monster with bone plating and a bone mask, its sun-bleached-looking visor crisscrossed with a small network of blood-red, glowing markings. Its eyes glowed a bright orange as it glared daggers of doom down at me, spelling out that this creature would be my doom. It towered over me, humanoid in posture alone, and bringing with it a stance of pure aggression.

A creature of Grimm blocked my way.

A Beowolf, to be exact. Well, to be even more exact, an Alpha Beowolf. This was a problem. This was definitely a problem. Not so much a "oh no, did I leave the bathroom window open?" problem, but more of an "oh, crap! There's a creature of complete dark soullessness that is looking at me as I would a particularly tasty shish-kebab!" problem. Well, this is what I'd trained for, at least.

I reached behind my back, and felt a familiar, ice-cool touch of a particularly hefty object. I quickly unhooked a large, scarlet, irregularly shaped object from my concealed weapons holster, and just as rapidly, flicked a couple of switches hidden along its slender body. It unfolded with a series of clicks and pops- as though someone was cracking their knuckles, or maybe cranking a stubborn windup toy- into a huge blade with a double-edged, menacing, curved blade.

This was my weapon, Crescent Rose. I had poured hard work, sweat, tears, and other body fluids into its construction back at Signal Academy. It was also a highly customized sniper rifle, with all the bells and whistles I could ask for: a compact, high powered scope, and an insane 20-round Dust magazine collection. I had modeled mine after my Uncle Qrow's own, really really cool sword-gun-scythe thing. Come to think of it, he never actually told me what he'd named it...

I was distracted from my train of thought when a deadly claw attempted to rip my face into little bits of shredded cheese. Isn't it rude when that happens? I raised Crescent Rose upwards, perpendicular to the ground, and parried with no small amount of effort. The beast's claw pressed onwards, determined to push its stinking, razor-sharp nails into my flesh. I deflected its arm downwards with a twirl of my weapon and pivoted on the ball of my right foot. With a spin, I entered its guard, and swung my scythe in a wide, vertical arc.

It wasn't very effective. The monster simply raised its arms in a cross-block over its bone-topped skull and managed to avoid to worst of my strike. However, my weapon did manage to do something, in the very least. The tip of its blade dug into the bony helm, and a spiderweb of cracks appeared over the surface of the plates like damaged glass. It snarled, and pushed outwards, freeing my scythe from its skull. Black blood spurted from the wound like a miniature fountain, and it roared in agony, cradling its head in its claws.

Now was my chance! I swung Crescent Rose high and as wide as I could in the cramped space and brought it crashing down like a guillotine through the creature, using a Dust bullet to augment the blow. I yelled triumphantly when my scythe cleaved its arm off. Even better, the inertia of the strike forced the scythe's blade into its body through what I assume was its clavicle, and buried the tip perhaps a foot into its flesh. It positively screeched with fury, but it was already too late for it. I pulled Crescent Rose's trigger, and with a cry of defiance, adrenaline coursing through my veins, wrenched the blade from its body. My creation tore through pitch-dark flesh and arteries like a knife through bread. Bones snapped and parted outwards, their gruesome shards peppering my face. I closed my eyes and averted my gaze. Though my aura made the shrapnel more of a nuisance than a threat, it still stung.

That was my mistake. The beast lashed out, determined to take me with it, even though it was now doomed. It was pretty intelligent, though, taking advantage of my momentary bout of weakness. I felt an impact, then a slow, burning heat in my midsection. I gasped in pain as something tore at my insides. My eyes shot open, and I looked down at my body, finding a great, muscled claw embedded in it. My throat burned, and I spat something metallic from my mouth. Crap.

At least the Grimm wasn't in any condition to hurt anyone else, if the smoke billowing off its decaying vessel was any indication of its coming doom. For a tense second, its eyes met mine. I stared its burning orbs down. Heck if I wasn't going to go down with tears flowing down my face and in despair, or something. There came a time in every Huntsman's life where he or she must stare down death in the face. I wasn't going to face it like a scared little girl. Although I did feel a bit sick. My stomach turned itself over, and I turned my head to the side, hurling chunks of half-digested food that burned like fire and scraped like sandpaper against my throat.

After what felt like hours, the evil wolf's form finally evaporated- and with it, the claw that had embedded itself in my chest. I didn't realize just how much my body was relying on the thing for balance, and I tumbled collapsed on my back. My mind felt hazy. Dimly, I could hear Crescent Rose fall from my numb fingers, and as my vision faded, I thought I could hear someone else yelling.

"Da...! All... Am...Lance..."

And I blacked out.

AN: Yeah, I know. I would just like to know... that I suck. And that I'm a girl. And I like ribbons in my hair. And I want to kiss all the boys. But no. Seriously. I hate myself too for starting a new thing without updating my older ones, and frankly, I'm probably gonna do it again. But to be honest, my editor is still not getting back to me about Rose Falls, and I'm really not feeling up to continuing ATTHFT, but it'll get done eventually. But for now, I'm thinkin... Dresden Files?