Being the new kid at a school can be hard. Being the new kid with a metal arm was even worse. It helped having friends beforehand though, which is why (F/N) was very grateful to have been introduced to Team JNPR before classes began. Having people to sit with definitely helped make the adjustment easier. The teachers call him up to the front of the class to introduce himself, not making a big spectacle out of it. They just made everyone aware of his presence and asked where he was from and how familiar he was with the curriculum.

Naturally, (F/N)'s familiarity with history, specifically the past one hundred years, was essentially nonexistent. However, seeing as he could hardly admit that to anyone, he simply gave a noncommittal answer and did his best to keep up with the inhuman speed of Dr. Oobleck's lecture. What he did manage to catch and translate to writing he found extremely interesting, especially when it came to understanding how humanity had managed to advance so much in just a century. (F/N) made a mental note to read the history textbook cover to cover when he had the time.

The last class before breaking for lunch was combat class. Taking a seat next to Pyrrha, (F/N) waited for the professor to walk in. Within minutes, the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor echoed throughout the room, followed by the appearance of a tall, slender, blonde bespectacled women. She looked extremely stern and reminded (F/N) of some of the no nonsense officers from the military. (F/N) didn't need his semblance to know that this was not a woman to trifle with. Unsurprised, (F/N) soon found out that Professor Goodwitch ran her class with an extremely militaristic outline; no idle chatter, very little talk, almost all action. She didn't even stop to acknowledge (F/N)'s presence as all the other professors had, simply looking up at him from her tablet when coming across the new addition to her roster of names.

"Alright class." Professor Goodwitch announced towards the end of the period. "That about concludes our lesson for the day. Before I let you go however, we will have one final match. Mr. (L/N), if you would please come forward."

(F/N) made his way down to the arena at the front of the classroom, standing at attention underneath the bright lights. Feet shoulder width apart, shoulders back, chin up, hands folded behind his back.

"As I'm sure you all know by now, Mr. (L/N) is our newest transfer student from Atlas Academy." Turning so that she is addressing (F/N), she continues, "While I'm sure you are a capable fighter, I still need to evaluate your skill set. Consider this your first combat test."

(F/N) nods curtly.

"Hey Weiss, who's the new guy?"

(F/N) looks up to see an attractive girl with long blonde hair whispering to the girl next to her, her hair white as snow, her skin pale, though not sickly. In fact, she was actually quite beautiful.

"How should I know?" The girl named Weiss asks.

"Well, you're from Atlas, aren't you?"

"Yang, just because I'm from Atlas doesn't mean I know everyone there. Besides, I go to school at Beacon, just like you. How do you expect me to know the students at Atlas when I..."

"Miss Schnee." Professor Goodwitch calls out, causing everyone to turn and look at the girl.

"Yes professor?" She blushes.

"Thank you for volunteering to be (F/N)'s sparring partner."

Weiss drops her head and groans. Meanwhile (F/N) takes a double take at the young heiress. Schnee. He thinks to himself. Obvious really. I should have seen it before. She looks the spitting image of her sister.

"If the two of you would please change into your combat gear. Be back in no less than ten minutes."

(F/N) is back in the arena in five, dressed in a garb similar to that of an officer in the Atlesian military. A crisp white dress shirt tucked into a pair of white pants. A (F/C) tie secured around his neck, covered partially by a grey double-breasted vest. There are two silver pins on either side of his shirt's collar, deserving of a soldier of his rank, yet to anyone unfamiliar with Atlas' military markings, as well as anyone not looking for it, it simply looks like additional decoration. Weiss appears not long after, dressed in a white combat skirt, blouse, and bolero jacket. She holds a silver rapier at her side, the cylindrical rotating dust compartments not going unnoticed by (F/N)'s well trained eye.

"Where's your weapon?" Weiss asks.

"Don't worry about me." (F/N) smirks. "I've got a few tricks hidden up my sleeve."

"Take your positions." Professor Goodwitch announces, walking off to stand behind her podium. "The match will begin at the sound of the buzzer and continue for ten minutes or until one of your auras drops into the red zone. Are there any question?" She pauses for a few seconds before finishing. "Let the match begin."

At the sound of the buzzer, Weiss immediately summons a glyph, white in color, it launches her forwards at an astounding speed. Weiss' left arm is extended, Myrtenaster aimed at (F/N)'s chest. Her stance and technique are perfect, but (F/N) simply raises his right arm, the blade deflecting off his metal arm at an angle. Having expected some amount of resistance that was never met, Weiss stumbles forwards slightly. As she passes by (F/N)'s right side, he plants his right foot behind her feet and clotheslines her, taking her to the ground. Weiss rolls out of the way just in time to avoid being stomped on. Quickly getting back on her feet, Weiss puts some distance between herself and (F/N), who takes the time to examine her.

Aside from obviously coming from a rich family, (F/N) can tell she's a skilled fighter. It's clear to him she's trained her entire life in the art of the sword, but she seems to have missed out on a few key lessons. Her stance tells him that her practice has been more theoretical than practical, probably due to drilling repetitive patterns with her weapon. Still, this doesn't mean she's inexperienced, simply that she puts too much stock in stance and technique. But practice only gets you so far. (F/N) knows better than anyone, training and the battlefield are two completely different worlds. Still, this was just a sparring session. (F/N) decided there was no need to hurt the poor girl. At least not physically. Her pride, he could tell, wouldn't recover for a few weeks.

Weiss lifts her blade in front of her face, her empty hand positioned in front of her chest. Several black glyphs appear in the air, surrounding (F/N) on all sides. Another glyph forms beneath Weiss' feet, and once again she propels herself forwards, bouncing off the black snowflake patters as she outflanks (F/N), searching for an opening. As Weiss ricochets from glyph to glyph in a white blur, (F/N)'s semblance is already working through hundreds of thousands of possible scenarios and outcomes. There's a small chance she'll lunge at me head on. Statistically unlikely, dismiss as a possibility. A calculated 18% chance that Weiss will attack from right side, 23% from the left. The rear seems the most probable, at 57%, account for this scenario. How to evade? A side step seems the most effective. Weiss is left handed. Pivot clockwise on left foot and turn to face her, Myrtenaster going to the right of the head, ending up on the left after the turn. Dangerous position, the perfect spot for Weiss to collapse her arm and elbow me across the face, assuming she's experienced enough in open hand combat to do so. If not, she might try a backhand slash with her rapier. Both scenarios seem likely, but the backhand stroke seems the more favorable continuation of the fight. It's probable that Weiss will take a small half step back and turn her body counterclockwise with the stroke. Drop onto the right knee while simultaneously executing a right-hand punch to the ribs, causing her to stumble backwards. Propel off right knee and lunge at Weiss, tackling at midsection. She'll evade, barely, keeping her off balance. Land the lunge in right knee up left leg back runners' stance. Turn body to the left and push off right hand, executing a rising roundhouse kick. Weiss will bring both arms up to block. Plant both feet on ground and jump counterclockwise, executing a jump spinning inside out crescent kick to side of head. Kick will send Weiss spinning to the left. She'll continue with the momentum and throw a blind backhand upward swing. WARNING. Two equally likely scenarios to follow. Diagonal downward cut followed by backhand side stroke and spin, 49.46% chance. Blind upward cut followed by downward strike with pommel, pull back and thrust towards gut, 49.54% chance. Marginal .08% more likely that upward cut will be followed by pommel strike. Lean body back and to the right to avoid first stroke, high block overhead pommel strike, sidestep thrust. Swipe down on wrist with right hand and twist away from body. Reinforce joint lock with left hand, step through with left foot, disarm and takedown. Drop left knee into chest, plant right fist into ground next to head. End fight. Probability of outcome, 87.62%. Probability of success, 98.97%. Recovery time from physical damage and aura depletion, three hours. Recovery time from damaged pride, three weeks.

(F/N) has calculated this as the most probable path in the amount of time it takes Weiss to kick off her glyph and travel the short distance between the glyph and the back of (F/N)'s head. As planned, (F/N) ducks and pivots on his foot, then ducking the backhand stroke and punching Weiss in the ribs. Weiss takes a few steps back and narrowly avoids (F/N)'s tackle. Her hands are almost too slow to block the rising roundhouse kick thrown from the ground, but she isn't quick enough to shield herself from the kick to her head. Continuing to turn, she cycles through the dust in the base of Myrtenaster, selecting fire. As she turns she throws a blind upward stroke which (F/N) evades. (F/N) then raises his right arm to block the pommel of Weiss' blade. He's surprised when instead, the tip of the blade ignites his sleeve. Weiss had elected to follow through with a downward diagonal cut rather than an overhead strike. He hadn't planned for this scenario. Still, (F/N) didn't survive the Great War without being able to improvise. As Weiss follows through with a backhand side cut, (F/N) jumps back and out of range. The right sleeve of his shirt is singed, the flames slowly crawling their way up to the elbow. Reaching across with his left arm, (F/N) tears off the flaming sleeve at the shoulder, the fibers weakened from the exposure to the fire.

There's an audible gasp from the class as the Mortar is revealed for the first time. The metal glints in the brightness of the stage lights which gleam across its smooth surface. Switching the Mortar into its secondary configuration, (F/N)'s wrist bends downwards as the top half of the arm opens, accompanied by a faint hiss. Out of the corner of his eye, (F/N) sees a short girl squealing in her seat at the sight of his arm, a red hood poking out of the collar of her uniform. Her sounds of delight are soon drowned by the sound of gunfire, as the Mortar begins firing at Weiss. The heiress uses her index and middle fingers and swipes across the bottom of Myrtenaster, cycling through the dust before stabbing the tip into the ground. A large barrier of ice shoots up, shielding her from the bullets. (F/N) continues firing as he runs forward. Jumping into the air, the Mortar switches back to its primary configuration. The tubing throughout the arm glows a deep orange and small flames begin to erupt along the forearm section. With a mighty punch, (F/N) blasts a hole in the ice wall, steam rising into the air as the frozen water becomes superheated upon contact with (F/N)'s arm. (F/N)'s punch was strong enough to launch him straight through the ice, breaking through to the other side. Landing on one knee in front of a very shocked Weiss, (F/N) slams his palm on the ground, the tubes now being fed by an obsidian colored dust. Weiss' figure is surrounded by a dark purple glow as she is launched into the air. Reaching the apex of her ascent, instead of returning to the ground, she continues rising like a helium balloon, offering (F/N) a view many would kill for. Weiss then raises her arms in front of her face to shield herself from an onslaught of bullets fired from the ground, quickly depleting the rest of her aura and knocking her out of the air.

Weiss closes her eyes and braces for the hard impact. She's surprised when it never comes. Opening one eye, she looks up to find herself in the arms of the man who sent her flying up in the first place, having caught her in his arms.

"Put me down!" She demands, a slight blush on her face.

(F/N) obliges and gently replaces her on her feet. Weiss runs her hands down the front of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles before crossing her arms and giving a small "hmph". Sticking her nose up in the air and looking away from (F/N).

"Very good." Professor Goodwitch announces. "That will be all for today. Class dismissed."

The combat instructor walks off backstage as the bell sounds. Students grab their bags and begin making their way through the doors at the back of the classroom, eager to get to lunch. (F/N) is just about to turn and head back to the lockers when he's stopped by a loud, excited voice.

"Your arm is so cool!"