|Slight RWBY AU | Fanfiction|
Everyone knows that mercenaries fight for treasure. However, not all treasure is silver and gold.
By personal invitation, Phoenix, the infamous mercenary with a sarcastic streak wider than a forest fire, joins Beacon a...
"That was pretty entertaining," Weiss commented as Penny and her teammate finished wiping the floor with Dove and Sky from Team CRDL.
Phoenix snorted. "Understatement. The only bad thing is that I ran out of popcorn."
"You too?" Mercury asked, looking over from his seat next to Yang. The three teams sat in the seats above the arena as Penny and her teammate walked off the arena floor while some workers dragged Dove and Sky off to the side.
"You feel the pain?" Phoenix asked.
Mercury nodded, looking down somberly at his empty popcorn bag. "Rest in peace, my old friend."
As Phoenix and Mercury bowed their heads respectfully for their fallen friend, Weiss and Yang exchanged looks before looking over at Cinder.
Cinder nodded, and the two promptly smacked Phoenix and Mercury over their heads, sending them crashing into the seats below them.
"Since when are women so violent?" Phoenix groaned as he and Mercury tried, and failed, to untangle themselves.
"Since when are women junior assassins in disguise?" Mercury agreed, wincing.
Rolling their eyes almost simultaneously, Emerald, Weiss, Cinder, and Yang went down to untangle the two of them.
"For once, I'm glad I didn't follow in Phoenix's footsteps," Jaune commented.
"That was probably wise," Pyrrha agreed, resting her head on Jaune's shoulder as they waited for the next match to begin.
Timeskip brought to you by the fallen Popcorn Bag (may it rest in peace)
"Well, now it's our turn," Yang commented as she and Weiss stood in the arena, awaiting their opponents.
"Just remember to keep proper form," Weiss reminded.
Yang sighed. "Alright. You're from Atlas. What can we expect?"
"Well, seeing as their kingdom, academy, and armed forces are all merged as one, I think we can expect strict, militant fighters with advanced technology and carefully rehearsed strategies," Weiss listed, counting on her fingers.
Just then, a rainbow blur shot past them and reappeared as a girl with orange hair balancing on roller blades and wielding a set of nunchucks next to a man in what could be described as a jazz outfit, holding a trumpet.
"Orr... whatever they are," Weiss finished, trailing off.
"Hey," Flynt called, tilting his head.
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