The data knife beeped as the hack finished, and the Pilot grinned, the look unnatural on the face lined with frown lines. Ice blue eyes scanned the documents that were never meant to see the light of day, which was coincidental considering it was 03:24. This world was laughably backwater, their encryptions easier to break than the Militia's. At least the Militia was working to correct their arrogance after Typhon, these people were just blatantly idiotic. Truthfully, the Pilot was disappointed. Even though this world/universe/whatever, used entirely separate encryptions methods, they were all similar, meaning that once one computer was hacked, the rest of the systems came easily. That wasn't even mentioning that clusterfuck of a communications system. The CCT was entirely too vulnerable, even if this one was stationed on the campus of Beacon Academy. Maybe her team was right; if they didn't step in this semester then things may get ugly rather quickly. The signs of conflict were rising, though the arrogance of this world's leaders was most likely the reason for the ignorance. The Pilot finished forging the approved Beacon applications and ejected the knife, allowing the terminal to switch off and bathe her in darkness. She uploaded the files to the Guardian and idly wondered how the others were fairing. The Pilot sighed as klaxons blared, but walls and defences meant nothing to the Pilot, and with a burst of energy, she ceased to exist.

The Spartan dropped the last of the White Fang at this outpost, annoyed at the lack of information she'd gained. She wasn't nearly as manipulative as the Pilot, but that wasn't in her job description. Her yellow FOTUS armor tinged with black accents stood out heavily against the steel of the complex, and the still smoking hole in the wall was a testament to her specialty: strength. The Guardian used her as the team's heavyweight, and considering the other's roles, she supposed it was warranted. Shaking her head slightly, she placed her MA5 on her back next to the Spartan Laser that was responsible for the hole in the wall. She'd been sent to get a lead on one Adam Taurus. The Spartan didn't really question it; That's what the Pilot was for, after all. All that the Spartan knew was that the Guardian needed him, and that was all she needed, damn the timeline. The team had been together for five years now, and while they were all close, the Spartan and the Guardian shared a special relationship. Even though the Guardian was a several hundred year old glowing woman with a fetish for fire, the Spartan considered her a younger sister. She guessed some things never changed. She sighed, realizing she was internally monologuing again, and turned towards the door. Maybe the Infiltrator had gotten better luck than she had.

The Infiltrator was one of the best spies ever to grace this planet. She was such a master of stealth, assassination, theft, sabotage, and general subterfuge that she made it look like an art form. In addition, her sniping skills were legendary among the Alliance, and her omni-blade had claimed the lives of hundreds. That was not to say, however, that she was perfect. This was evidenced by the machine gun fire currently hammering the cover she'd taken just in the nick of time. Truthfully, even after heavy scouting, as insisted by the Guardian, she'd been caught off guard by the thrice damned mechs that made up most of the facility's security. They weren't smart or accurate, but that hardly mattered when the hallways amounted to little more than taller ventilation shafts. Luckily she'd been able to find a larger room filled with steel crates, a couple of which she was currently hiding behind. She tossed a sticky grenade over the crate, pleased when the fire lessened significantly after the explosion. She'd thrown it towards the door, so that meant that the mechs hadn't fanned out into the room. Activating her cloak and drawing her Predator, she maneuvered into another space with better cover to eliminate the five more that remained. The disruptor rounds tore through their targets, and soon, nothing moved. With a silent huff, the Infiltrator turned towards her prize and grinned, hefting the trackers. By the time the human garrison entered the room to survey the damage and secure the prototypes, the room was bereft of anything but shattered mech bodies and the Paladins. They wouldn't find the perpetrator, and the request for higher security would never make it to Atlas headquarters, lost in transit.

A pleased smile greeted the three as they entered their hideout in the Mistralian mountainside. The Pilot, the Spartan, and the Infiltrator grinned back behind their helmets; step one was complete. Behind the Guardian was a set of four weapons, each of them to be used during the team's time in Beacon. The Guardian turned towards the table that held them, the cloak the color of freshly spilled blood billowing behind her at the movement. She gave the whip to the Pilot.

"I know how much you like intimidating your enemies, so I made it an Arc weapon." The Guardian gestured to a couple of switches, one red and one blue. "The blue switch activates the Arc charge, allowing 5000 volts of electricity to lance up and down your weapon. The red switch solidifies the weapon into a sword, lacking the hand guard for obvious reasons." The Pilot nodded, already setting aside time in her schedule to practice with the weapon.

"What's its name?" the Pilot asked, getting the Guardian to smile wider.

"It's name is Snowfall. I figured you might appreciate the similarities between the weapon and the wielder." The amused chuckle she got in return told the Guardian that the name was appreciated. She next gave the pistol to the Infiltrator. It too had a switch above the safety, attached to the slide.

"This is Hemlock, a twelve plus one handcannon that shifts also into a sword, though this one will be wreathed in flames with a minor application of aura. Similarly, the gun has been infused with Solar Light." The Infiltrator hummed and looked over the magnificent craftsmanship. It was incredibly stylized, almost too much, but it was appreciated nonetheless.

"What caliber does it fire?" She asked, wondering if the slot on the side near the barrel was what she thought it was for.

"The magazine holds twelve .223 caliber rounds, but I have a secondary fire mode attached to the underside of the barrel that allows it to fire from the block I put that works with your mass effect tech. That port on the side is for the heat sinks you're so fond of." The smile behind the Infiltrator's mask turned down right feral, and if the look from the Guardian was any indication, she knew. Next she gave the chaingun to the Spartan. The Spartan hefted the gun, pleased with the weight and the design.

"This, is Dragon's Breath. It's a chaingun that shifts into a hammer when you flip this switch. You're going to have to hold the barrel in that form, but there's no chance for it to go off, so don't worry. As hinted to by its name, it is also Solar. You can fire two hundred times without worrying about reloading, and the blast shield is made from glimmer hardened titanium." Finally, the Guardian hefted the one handed scythe in one hand, its blue crystal located at the juncture between the handle and the blade glowing with the presence of its master.

"This Azzir's Blossom, which I'll be using in conjunction with Dark Drinker. It doesn't shift, but it can do some similar stuff as Bolt Caster." She sheathed the scythe and crossed her arms, her compatriots doing the same. She sighed and hung her head, her glowing eyes closing.

"Guys, I'm going to level with you. From what I read from the files we got, we're already in the system." The other three shifted uncomfortably. "I know we all came from separate timelines in separate realities, but we all share the same roots. If we can stop all of this, then we can make sure what happened to us never happens again." The Guardian knew that if she could see their faces, she would see three sets of determined expressions. The thought gave her confidence. "School starts in a month, so we better get ready to be up to par with our weapons by the time we have to go. If at any point you want to change your weapons let me know soon so I can change it." She got three nods in response, and smiled, putting her hand in the middle of them. Three others stacked on top of it, and she looked all of them in their faceplates.

"We do this for this timeline's RWBY. Bonzai." The hands went up and they all echoed the war cry. They knew what had to be done.

"BONZAI!"

AN: Hello one and all, and welcome to my first story on this site. I've been considering making this more than a one-shot, but I may need some help getting the lore and such right. If you enjoyed please let me know, and I'll be sure to continue this and other stories.

For now though, thats all from me. This is Druid-34, signing off.