Remnant's Roughrider M!reader X RWBY

Prologue

"Alright kiddies lemme tell y'all a story, more specifically, mine. I was born early on the road headed to a modest gold mining town called Brimstone from Vacuo. My father was bringing my mother to Brimstone so we'd live in peace when I was born. My father was an ex-Huntsman, so he became Brimstone's sheriff; my mother was a school teacher there. I swear to Oum, the town looked just like one you'd see in the movies, complete with saloon and sheriff's office. There was no bad blood between the Faunus and humans there, other than the occasional traveller wanting to own the place; only to be run outta town by my Pa. Trouble was scarce there, unless I was the one who caused it. The Grim were nearly non existent. Don't know why now that I think about it, when I was young I never questioned it. I was pretty active as a little kid. Whenever I wasn't tangled up in schoolwork or chores I spent most of my time pretending to be my dad: riding horses and 'training' with my toy guns. My father saw this and do you know what he did? He dropped his revolver into my four year old hands and told me that he'd train me in earnest.

And he did. He trained a four year old to use weaponry. It was the perfect example of don't-tell-your-mother. And so we trained for the next six years. It was the greatest time of my life.

However nothing good lasts forever. One night some bowler hat wearing dandy walked into town like he owned the place. Nobody paid him any mind; people passed through Brimstone from time to time, that was until he waltzed into the bank and held the teller at gunpoint. My Pa caught word of it and ran there like a man possessed.

Now, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but Pa was always dead serious when it did.

Pa made it to the door.

I always wish I could forget the next part.

The second after he walked in, he flew out again, careening past me and into the street. The man followed, bags over his shoulders, and looked back at the bank. All I could do was watch as he shot one of its wooden walls with fire Dust, turing it into a flaming deathtrap, and roasting the poor souls inside.

That one action made me realize how much of a powder keg the place was. The terror and despair of those inside the inferno, and those watching brought only served to attract the Grim. All hell broke loose. Amidst it all I could hear my father and the man standing above him.

"Sorry Dekker, but you of all people should know that I don't take too kindly to loose ends." The man said as he stood on my father's chest, leveling his cane between my dad's eyes. My father shifted his eyes to me.

"YN GO FIND YOUR MOTHER!"
He bellowed out to me.

I obeyed. Fire was everywhere. Grim all over the place. I don't know how, but I made it home...

I wish I hadn't.

Beowolves. A lot of them.... And Mom... In the jaws of the biggest one.... Limp....lifeless....bloody....

I could only do what any ten year old could do... I ran.

I ran back to my dad, too much in shock to fully process the fact that I had just watched my mother being eaten.

Brimstone was in flames at this point. The townspeople took off, trying to escape, only for ALL of the Grim to follow.

I'd rather not talk about what I saw there. Let's just say that I found my dead and the other man gone....

It was all a big enough shock that I guess you could say I was practically in a walking coma.

I don't know how long I walked or what happened during the time, next thing I can remember was me sitting in a cargo car of a train headed to Vacuo. Found an old guitar abandoned in the car I was in, I still have it actually. I taught myself how to play during the ride to Vacuo. When I got there, all I had was my clothes, my guitar, and my father's revolver: Last Laugh.

Imagine that. A ten year in a huge ass city with just a gun and a guitar.

I was there for about four weeks, playing guitar on the sidewalk to get enough lien to pay for new clothes. Once that was done, I left Vacuo and went back out into the desert. I went from town to town, village to village, bounty hunting anonymously, no one needed to know who was doing the work. To them it just got done.

That continued till I was about thirteen. By then I'd made a name for myself; stories of a miniature gunslinger spread fast. My guitar skills got better too. In time I had grown quite good in my line of work. It wasn't just so I could survive, now it was just something to do. I'm good at what I do, and I've got nothing else to do.

So that's it. That's my story so far. Any questions Ozpin?"

Ozpin smiled,
"Only one: how would you like to have something to do for the next four years?"

YN smiled in return,
"When do I start?"

"When the school year starts."

YN's smile faded,
"What?"

"Welcome to Beacon Academy Mr. LN."