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CountvonBarnOwl
Know what you're doing yet?
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A Whiter Rose snippet based on the musings of days recently passed:
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"My apologies for my late arrival." James Ironwood said as he exited the elevator that led into Ozpin's office. "The Grimm attacks have only been growing in number and ferocity since the fleet arrived."
Grimm had been sieging Vale's walls nonstop for the past few days. And with the arrival of Ironwood's fleet - a showy measure of insurance for the Vytal Festival, most certainly not a lot of warm bodies to cover up a covert war with an enemy older than history or a sledgehammer to be wielded against her proxies, nothing like that - and it had run the commanding general of the Atlesian Army ragged.
Ozpin took another sip of his drink, his eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "They have, James. Now, you have been in my confidence for longer than most, in living memory at least, so I say this as a friend. Is it not possible that the two phenomena are correlated?"
Ironwood snorted, "we've been over this half a hundred times, my forces aren't going to start a panic. People won't worry about all of the armed men and machine circling the city. I imagine quite the contrary. Who wouldn't prefer having twelve brigades between them and the Grimm?"
"I don't mean that this time, James. I mean something a bit more tangible than mere apprehension. Come here." James obliged, making his way through the clockwork ensconced in emerald-glass. "Pull up one of those other chairs too. You're going to need it." Ozpin appended. James rounded on his heel and lifted the metalwork with the ease that only machine limbs and Aura combined could provide, before depositing it next to Ozpin's own chair.
"Now watch this." Ozpin said, pulling a CCTnet video up on his desktop.
"Oz, are you sure that you have the right video?" James asked.
"Positive, why?" Ozpin replied.
"It's an SDC ad." James explained.
"Quite. Their new head of marketing has something of a personality to him." Ozpin replied.
Jacques' new PR man had a personality all right. The old one had been fired once the magnate twigged to the fact that all of those attempts to boost his image by associating his face with the SDC's premium lines were taken as narcissism and egomania by the broader public. It was definitely a point in his favor that the new guy did not start off with green-screen glamour shots of the CEO.
However it was ten points against him that he started off with fifteen seconds of a cacophony increasingly deep-fried looping reaction gifs. Only for the whole screen to be tossed aside with comical exaggeration by a pair of wiry arms, attached to a white-haired boy in an immaculate suit, who now dominated the screen.
------
"Hi, I'm Whitley Schnee, head of marketing and accounting at the Schnee Dust Company. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Aren't you a little young to be juggling two departments at the world's biggest Dust conglomerate?' Yes, Yes I am. And it's infuriating." He hunched in and curled his fingers as the lighting shifted around him such that he looked like he was now telling a story at a campfire. "And you know what else is infuriating?!?! This FUCKING INVENTORY! I'm so mad that we haven't cleared this stock, I'm going to have an aneurysm. Drrurururururrrrr-"
------
Outside of the video, Ironwood had to ask, "Was the zoom-in x-ray fart sound effect really necessary?" Ozpin's only response was to take another gulp of his drink.
------
"In fact, I'm so angry, I'm going to make this cute, big titty goth girl watch cursed gun images." The camera panned over to none other than Ruby Rose, waving with both hands, and with her legs conspicuously chained up.
"What he did to get Miss Rose to go along with this I'll never know." Ozpin muttered, believing contrarywise that the answer had involved several dozen pounds of cookies.
Whitley plopped down next to Ruby, who - not at all playing the damsel in distress well - slid closer to him on the couch until they were butt-to-butt. Then her hands came onto his shoulders. "And remember, this is a blind reaction. I have no idea what horrors this fiend has in store for me."
"She calls him a fiend but I see what she's doing with his arm while he's trying to move the mouse." Ironwood muttered.
Whitley clicked on a link and it brought up the first cursed gun of the night
"Starting off slow, eh." Ruby muttered. "It's not that cursed. The gold plated lever action makes him look like a forest warlord from the backwoods of Anima. And speaking of Anima, you wanna bet that the whole continent would flood if he drops that buttstock in Lake Matsu?"
"More spirit than I expected. Hmm, very well. I retaliate with cursed gun level 2." Whitley retorted, before clicking on the next link.
"Probably some bandit's beat-to-shit-old claw revolv- oOh, why is the hammer so big? Can that even engage the firing pin? First off, ditch that brass knuckle handle that you have no way of using, and then file down that hammer, then smelt the shavings with the knucks to forge yourself a proper grip so you can abosorb the recoil when SOMETHING COMES OUT OF THE MUZZLE BECUASE YOU PULLED THE FUCKING TRIGGER."
"Hmm," Whitley observed, "still more mad than broken. I will have to resort to the superiority of Atlesian science and craftsmanship to break you."
------
Ironwood felt the initial wave of embarrassment when none other than his own Due Process came up on the screen.
------
"You know," the boy started up, with an impish grin that Ironwood could somehow feel mocking him through the screen. I heard that gun started off as a Mare Constrictor."
"Very interesting: Ruby replied, her voice dissonant and still, like the waters of a lake known to house treacherous Grimm. "Then maybe you could explain to me why it looks like a FUCKING Pw-12 with a fucking Floch slide on the top!" Whitley errupted from the confines that were the arms of the girl sitting next to him. "Mwahahaha, you have no idea about the heights of bubba-ry to which Atlas has ascended."
"Bubba is the word for it. It looks like he heard about a dual-trigger safety in passing and tried to build one from scratch with no frame of reference." Ruby continued.
------
James unholstered his gun and examined it.
------
"And the fucking hammer again. I assume there's a downward-canted firing pin housed in the frame because it fires from the bottom chamber but it doesn't! I mean it may as well fire from the bottom chamber with the height-over-bore from that fucking semi-auto slide. I can't even tell if that slide is just a part of the frame or not. I mean, what's the point. How would that even work? Some of the gasses generated by the powder going off going up a concealed gas port near the muzzle and pushing back on the slide? Is that how this gun cycles? Tell me that's not how this gun cycles Whitley!"
"Well, it's funny you should mention that..." Whitley replied. "Seeing that the hammer is too high up on the gun to do much other good..."
Ruby blinked once. She blinked twice. "Don't tell me. The gas impulse is what pushes the hammer back." Whitley nodded solemnly, "and then it returns home, allowing the cylinder to rotate. And it was built to cycle that way. Look just below the rear sight."
"Are those... slide... serrations?" Ruby's eyeliner was running down her cheeks. "He built it that way... on purpose. This thing just keeps getting worse and worse every time I look at it"
"I actually feel a little bad now. Tell you what. One more for the sake of the video and then we'll be done." Whitley said. Ruby's arms wrapped around him in less than an instant and pulled him into a crushing hug. After muttering something that the recording equipment did not quite pick up, but sounded suspiciously like "goth girl tidd," Whitley clicked on the next image.
------
And James Ironwood was amazed that the shrill scream of alloyed terror, hatred, fear, and disgust that came out of the girl's mouth didn't shatter every pane of glass in the tower. "How is all of the glass in this tower still intact?"
"Magic." Ozpin replied before enigmatically sipping his drink again. "Literally," he followed up in a less enigmatic fashion, "I had to repair everything in the tower and then reinforce it after I played the video for the first time. Also, you may want to invest in a glassblowing, or repair, or construction firm in the near future." James penciled that little detail away for later.
------
"Every time I see it, I feel the urge to gouge out my eyes with a melon-baller." Whitley muttered shaking his head. "I remember these fucking things. My father bought them to be standard issue among SDC security forces."
Ruby had not taken the sight nearly as well. "Why? Why? Why? Whyhyhy? Why does the bolt carrier need to be so biiiig?"
------
"Miss Rose is exceedingly passionate about firearms." Ozpin explained.
------
"And the selector switch. Why does it need to be so far forward. It's supposed to be near the thumb." Ruby sucked in some more air. But you'd need an index finger the size of a Beringal's to reach that teeny-tiny little nub that reminds me of whoever designed it."
"Are we not going to address that thing's barrel length?" Whitley asked.
"No! Having a five fucking inch barrel makes sense when you're firing pistol rounds. What doesn't make sense is the muzzle break big enough to double the barrel length to compensate for the recoil when you empty that single-stack-thin magazine in one burst. Where does anyone even find this crap?"
"I believe that father accepted an offer from an esteemed personage reputed throughout the community in the dignified circles of Atlas." Whitley replied.
------
"Fancy way of saying 'he'd sue me if I said his name.'" Ironwood muttered.
------
"Ah yes, how could I have forgotten," Ruby muttered. "Everybody has heard of Bubba, scion of the eight hundred year old House of von Bubbastein."
"And that rail. It looks like it was converted from a KA-74's gas tube that got put on backwards before they stuck a cheap-o red dot on it." Ruby dipped back into her hands to sob quietly for a few seconds. "And what's with the giant Putterware trunnion and the bulky stock that was probably made by the guy from image one. Truly, you must need a lot of mass to handle all of the recoil from the your blowback-operated carbine. Can, can that gun even cycle. Does that what? 9x18 Markhov? produce enough recoil to push back that bolt carrier the size of a house? Markhov's a good round. In a compact or a subcompact against human or faunus enemies without Aura, at close range. Because that's what it was made for. Why is it in a twelve pound carbine?
"ItsnotaMarkhov." Whitley mumbled.
"What."
"Thatgun'snotchamberedinMarkhov." Whitley mumbled again.
"Well, it looks too small to be chambered in 9 mil Lunge, what else could it possibly be chambered in?"
"Nine-seventeen short." Whitley confessed, giving Ruby pause.
"Whitley. Commit patricide immediately. Everything the White Fang says about your father is correct. Kill him and spend all of the money that would have gone to his funeral on giving your company something chambered in a real caliber. Just leave his body in a dump, it's where he belongs. Him and all of his shit guns."
------
The image froze and went grey in the instant after. Another Whitley walked onto the screen, superimposed in a manner similar to how the video had began. "Only you can prevent cute goths from being exposed to cursed guns. So come to the SDC tent at the 40th Vytal Festival. Participate in our blowout sale. Get up to fifty percent off on our premium stocks. Emerald-grade Plant Dust? 3,000 Lien a crystal. Sapphire-grade Water Dust? 4,000 Lien for a twelve ounce vial. And we have Ruby-grade Fire Dust, down to just 3,200 Lien a crystal, or just 2,500 Lien for a ten ounce vial for all those DIYers who want to mix their own Combustion Dust. Orders exceeding 25,000 Lien will also receive a-"
Another Ruby sprang onto the screen happier, more scantily clad, and holding some sort of machinist's kit. "This amazing combined Dust centrifuge, capable of making even triple-base Dust mixtures at home, and a reloader's tool and die kit, guaranteed to pay for itself within two hundred rounds, absolutely free."
------
James stared at the screen. "I legitimately forgot this was a commercial for a clearance sale."
"It's the SDC's most viewed and most liked video on the CCTnet." Ozpin replied. "And Miss Rose has single handedly done away with all of the negative stereotypes about Atlas. By replacing them all with the notion that your institutes are all run by bubbas. Incidentally, that is why people are upset about being protected by the Atlesian army. In the minds of almost everybody, you can have an unloaded gun and still present a terminal danger to yourself and others. And not even the gun itself will be safe."
Fin
Count's note - Not the happiest that I've been with a snippet. Didn't shit on the Abomination as comprehensively as I wish that I had (there are still design problems that Count hasn't touched). Characters feel too inanimate, just as a vehicle to bang out as many jokes on the cursed guns of RWBY and less like characters in a story. I know that is inevitable to a degree in a one-night writing barrage, sub 2.5k words.
Pleasantly surprised to find that very few cursed guns exist in the world of Remnant (which does make sense, they should (mostly) have guns figured out on a death world. All images are official except for this fanart of Due Process I found on Reddit (by mojojoj) - which like most fanarts adds slide serrations that I don't think were actually on the gun on the show and I thought the bit was too funny to pass up.
I hope you enjoyed and that I managed to stay within the SFW for the thread.
Reactions
"My apologies for my late arrival." James Ironwood said as he exited the elevator that led into Ozpin's office. "The Grimm attacks have only been growing in number and ferocity since the fleet arrived."
Grimm had been sieging Vale's walls nonstop for the past few days. And with the arrival of Ironwood's fleet - a showy measure of insurance for the Vytal Festival, most certainly not a lot of warm bodies to cover up a covert war with an enemy older than history or a sledgehammer to be wielded against her proxies, nothing like that - and it had run the commanding general of the Atlesian Army ragged.
Ozpin took another sip of his drink, his eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "They have, James. Now, you have been in my confidence for longer than most, in living memory at least, so I say this as a friend. Is it not possible that the two phenomena are correlated?"
Ironwood snorted, "we've been over this half a hundred times, my forces aren't going to start a panic. People won't worry about all of the armed men and machine circling the city. I imagine quite the contrary. Who wouldn't prefer having twelve brigades between them and the Grimm?"
"I don't mean that this time, James. I mean something a bit more tangible than mere apprehension. Come here." James obliged, making his way through the clockwork ensconced in emerald-glass. "Pull up one of those other chairs too. You're going to need it." Ozpin appended. James rounded on his heel and lifted the metalwork with the ease that only machine limbs and Aura combined could provide, before depositing it next to Ozpin's own chair.
"Now watch this." Ozpin said, pulling a CCTnet video up on his desktop.
"Oz, are you sure that you have the right video?" James asked.
"Positive, why?" Ozpin replied.
"It's an SDC ad." James explained.
"Quite. Their new head of marketing has something of a personality to him." Ozpin replied.
Jacques' new PR man had a personality all right. The old one had been fired once the magnate twigged to the fact that all of those attempts to boost his image by associating his face with the SDC's premium lines were taken as narcissism and egomania by the broader public. It was definitely a point in his favor that the new guy did not start off with green-screen glamour shots of the CEO.
However it was ten points against him that he started off with fifteen seconds of a cacophony increasingly deep-fried looping reaction gifs. Only for the whole screen to be tossed aside with comical exaggeration by a pair of wiry arms, attached to a white-haired boy in an immaculate suit, who now dominated the screen.
------
"Hi, I'm Whitley Schnee, head of marketing and accounting at the Schnee Dust Company. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Aren't you a little young to be juggling two departments at the world's biggest Dust conglomerate?' Yes, Yes I am. And it's infuriating." He hunched in and curled his fingers as the lighting shifted around him such that he looked like he was now telling a story at a campfire. "And you know what else is infuriating?!?! This FUCKING INVENTORY! I'm so mad that we haven't cleared this stock, I'm going to have an aneurysm. Drrurururururrrrr-"
------
Outside of the video, Ironwood had to ask, "Was the zoom-in x-ray fart sound effect really necessary?" Ozpin's only response was to take another gulp of his drink.
------
"In fact, I'm so angry, I'm going to make this cute, big titty goth girl watch cursed gun images." The camera panned over to none other than Ruby Rose, waving with both hands, and with her legs conspicuously chained up.
"What he did to get Miss Rose to go along with this I'll never know." Ozpin muttered, believing contrarywise that the answer had involved several dozen pounds of cookies.
Whitley plopped down next to Ruby, who - not at all playing the damsel in distress well - slid closer to him on the couch until they were butt-to-butt. Then her hands came onto his shoulders. "And remember, this is a blind reaction. I have no idea what horrors this fiend has in store for me."
"She calls him a fiend but I see what she's doing with his arm while he's trying to move the mouse." Ironwood muttered.
Whitley clicked on a link and it brought up the first cursed gun of the night
"Starting off slow, eh." Ruby muttered. "It's not that cursed. The gold plated lever action makes him look like a forest warlord from the backwoods of Anima. And speaking of Anima, you wanna bet that the whole continent would flood if he drops that buttstock in Lake Matsu?"
"More spirit than I expected. Hmm, very well. I retaliate with cursed gun level 2." Whitley retorted, before clicking on the next link.
"Probably some bandit's beat-to-shit-old claw revolv- oOh, why is the hammer so big? Can that even engage the firing pin? First off, ditch that brass knuckle handle that you have no way of using, and then file down that hammer, then smelt the shavings with the knucks to forge yourself a proper grip so you can abosorb the recoil when SOMETHING COMES OUT OF THE MUZZLE BECUASE YOU PULLED THE FUCKING TRIGGER."
"Hmm," Whitley observed, "still more mad than broken. I will have to resort to the superiority of Atlesian science and craftsmanship to break you."
------
Ironwood felt the initial wave of embarrassment when none other than his own Due Process came up on the screen.
------
"You know," the boy started up, with an impish grin that Ironwood could somehow feel mocking him through the screen. I heard that gun started off as a Mare Constrictor."
"Very interesting: Ruby replied, her voice dissonant and still, like the waters of a lake known to house treacherous Grimm. "Then maybe you could explain to me why it looks like a FUCKING Pw-12 with a fucking Floch slide on the top!" Whitley errupted from the confines that were the arms of the girl sitting next to him. "Mwahahaha, you have no idea about the heights of bubba-ry to which Atlas has ascended."
"Bubba is the word for it. It looks like he heard about a dual-trigger safety in passing and tried to build one from scratch with no frame of reference." Ruby continued.
------
James unholstered his gun and examined it.
------
"And the fucking hammer again. I assume there's a downward-canted firing pin housed in the frame because it fires from the bottom chamber but it doesn't! I mean it may as well fire from the bottom chamber with the height-over-bore from that fucking semi-auto slide. I can't even tell if that slide is just a part of the frame or not. I mean, what's the point. How would that even work? Some of the gasses generated by the powder going off going up a concealed gas port near the muzzle and pushing back on the slide? Is that how this gun cycles? Tell me that's not how this gun cycles Whitley!"
"Well, it's funny you should mention that..." Whitley replied. "Seeing that the hammer is too high up on the gun to do much other good..."
Ruby blinked once. She blinked twice. "Don't tell me. The gas impulse is what pushes the hammer back." Whitley nodded solemnly, "and then it returns home, allowing the cylinder to rotate. And it was built to cycle that way. Look just below the rear sight."
"Are those... slide... serrations?" Ruby's eyeliner was running down her cheeks. "He built it that way... on purpose. This thing just keeps getting worse and worse every time I look at it"
"I actually feel a little bad now. Tell you what. One more for the sake of the video and then we'll be done." Whitley said. Ruby's arms wrapped around him in less than an instant and pulled him into a crushing hug. After muttering something that the recording equipment did not quite pick up, but sounded suspiciously like "goth girl tidd," Whitley clicked on the next image.
------
And James Ironwood was amazed that the shrill scream of alloyed terror, hatred, fear, and disgust that came out of the girl's mouth didn't shatter every pane of glass in the tower. "How is all of the glass in this tower still intact?"
"Magic." Ozpin replied before enigmatically sipping his drink again. "Literally," he followed up in a less enigmatic fashion, "I had to repair everything in the tower and then reinforce it after I played the video for the first time. Also, you may want to invest in a glassblowing, or repair, or construction firm in the near future." James penciled that little detail away for later.
------
"Every time I see it, I feel the urge to gouge out my eyes with a melon-baller." Whitley muttered shaking his head. "I remember these fucking things. My father bought them to be standard issue among SDC security forces."
Ruby had not taken the sight nearly as well. "Why? Why? Why? Whyhyhy? Why does the bolt carrier need to be so biiiig?"
------
"Miss Rose is exceedingly passionate about firearms." Ozpin explained.
------
"And the selector switch. Why does it need to be so far forward. It's supposed to be near the thumb." Ruby sucked in some more air. But you'd need an index finger the size of a Beringal's to reach that teeny-tiny little nub that reminds me of whoever designed it."
"Are we not going to address that thing's barrel length?" Whitley asked.
"No! Having a five fucking inch barrel makes sense when you're firing pistol rounds. What doesn't make sense is the muzzle break big enough to double the barrel length to compensate for the recoil when you empty that single-stack-thin magazine in one burst. Where does anyone even find this crap?"
"I believe that father accepted an offer from an esteemed personage reputed throughout the community in the dignified circles of Atlas." Whitley replied.
------
"Fancy way of saying 'he'd sue me if I said his name.'" Ironwood muttered.
------
"Ah yes, how could I have forgotten," Ruby muttered. "Everybody has heard of Bubba, scion of the eight hundred year old House of von Bubbastein."
"And that rail. It looks like it was converted from a KA-74's gas tube that got put on backwards before they stuck a cheap-o red dot on it." Ruby dipped back into her hands to sob quietly for a few seconds. "And what's with the giant Putterware trunnion and the bulky stock that was probably made by the guy from image one. Truly, you must need a lot of mass to handle all of the recoil from the your blowback-operated carbine. Can, can that gun even cycle. Does that what? 9x18 Markhov? produce enough recoil to push back that bolt carrier the size of a house? Markhov's a good round. In a compact or a subcompact against human or faunus enemies without Aura, at close range. Because that's what it was made for. Why is it in a twelve pound carbine?
"ItsnotaMarkhov." Whitley mumbled.
"What."
"Thatgun'snotchamberedinMarkhov." Whitley mumbled again.
"Well, it looks too small to be chambered in 9 mil Lunge, what else could it possibly be chambered in?"
"Nine-seventeen short." Whitley confessed, giving Ruby pause.
"Whitley. Commit patricide immediately. Everything the White Fang says about your father is correct. Kill him and spend all of the money that would have gone to his funeral on giving your company something chambered in a real caliber. Just leave his body in a dump, it's where he belongs. Him and all of his shit guns."
------
The image froze and went grey in the instant after. Another Whitley walked onto the screen, superimposed in a manner similar to how the video had began. "Only you can prevent cute goths from being exposed to cursed guns. So come to the SDC tent at the 40th Vytal Festival. Participate in our blowout sale. Get up to fifty percent off on our premium stocks. Emerald-grade Plant Dust? 3,000 Lien a crystal. Sapphire-grade Water Dust? 4,000 Lien for a twelve ounce vial. And we have Ruby-grade Fire Dust, down to just 3,200 Lien a crystal, or just 2,500 Lien for a ten ounce vial for all those DIYers who want to mix their own Combustion Dust. Orders exceeding 25,000 Lien will also receive a-"
Another Ruby sprang onto the screen happier, more scantily clad, and holding some sort of machinist's kit. "This amazing combined Dust centrifuge, capable of making even triple-base Dust mixtures at home, and a reloader's tool and die kit, guaranteed to pay for itself within two hundred rounds, absolutely free."
------
James stared at the screen. "I legitimately forgot this was a commercial for a clearance sale."
"It's the SDC's most viewed and most liked video on the CCTnet." Ozpin replied. "And Miss Rose has single handedly done away with all of the negative stereotypes about Atlas. By replacing them all with the notion that your institutes are all run by bubbas. Incidentally, that is why people are upset about being protected by the Atlesian army. In the minds of almost everybody, you can have an unloaded gun and still present a terminal danger to yourself and others. And not even the gun itself will be safe."
Fin
Count's note - Not the happiest that I've been with a snippet. Didn't shit on the Abomination as comprehensively as I wish that I had (there are still design problems that Count hasn't touched). Characters feel too inanimate, just as a vehicle to bang out as many jokes on the cursed guns of RWBY and less like characters in a story. I know that is inevitable to a degree in a one-night writing barrage, sub 2.5k words.
Pleasantly surprised to find that very few cursed guns exist in the world of Remnant (which does make sense, they should (mostly) have guns figured out on a death world. All images are official except for this fanart of Due Process I found on Reddit (by mojojoj) - which like most fanarts adds slide serrations that I don't think were actually on the gun on the show and I thought the bit was too funny to pass up.
I hope you enjoyed and that I managed to stay within the SFW for the thread.