Salem Self Insert

Dress for the Position you Want

Professor Ozpin raced down the hallways of Beacon, cursing his laxness. He had never expected she would show up here, of all places. Not without an army of Grimm at her side. Has she come to give me an ultimatum with hordes of Grimm waiting outside? They'd have to be outside Vale; we've lost a few cameras in Forever Fall recently but nowhere near enough to hide an army.

Over the millennia of combating the creatures of Darkness, it had become apparent that no matter how experienced a leader the Grimm had, they couldn't maintain army levels of discipline. The best even his greatest foe could manage was to hold the majority of her hordes at the outskirts of cities, with a small percentage breaking away to attack on their own.

Faster he pressed on, racing to the cafeteria. Stretching my Aura enhanced senses with every trick he'd accumulated over the centuries, he could hear nothing, not the sounds of destructive battle or even crumbling breaking sounds of falling rubble. After a moment however he caught wind of… laughter?

As the wizard burst into the entrance hall, he beheld possibly the strangest sight he had in all his many years (which included a shockingly large number of strange and curious situations); Professor Port and Salem, standing casually, chatting about the old man's exploits.

The fact that his ex-wife was dressed in a Beacon students outfit and had concealed her age and some of the worse signs of her Grimmification (almost certainly through magic) added to the absurdity of the situation.

"Salem," Ozpin ground out, staring at her. Every plan he had half made on his way down upon the alert from the camera systems at her arrival was in shambles now. She turned to face him, a smile that was half smirk dancing across her youthful face. She hadn't looked so young since the day he had met. No doubt deliberate on her part. She always finds ways to make her cuts sting deeper.

Her skin was still deathly pale, matching her white hair, but it's done up in twintails (likely to emphasize the 'youthful' appearance she was going for). The sclera of her eyes were black with red pupils, but there are no black veins crawling across her face like there had been the last time the reincarnating wizard had clashed with her personally. When was that again? At least a few centuries ago now.

Salem took the opportunity to bounce towards him, her smile now all joy, as if they hadn't fought bitterly for millennia. "Oz- Professor Ozpin! I've come to submit my application for Beacon academy." She cheered, pulling something out from a pocket in her Beacon uniform skirt. His hands clenched on his cane, ready to fight until she pulled out a few sheets of paper.

"We have an online application process for a reason," the headmaster shot back quickly. As surprised as he had been by her actions and demeanour, ages of practice gave him the instincts needed to respond appropriately, even when his mind was elsewhere.

"Aww, but I came all the way here to see you," she pouted. Professor Port, with no idea of how much danger he was in, walked up to join them in the conversation. I don't know if I can save him when the fighting breaks out.

"Don't be a spoilsport Oz; she's such an eager young lass. Why, she reminds me of myself at her age." The unpleasant image that provided provoked a shudder from both Ozpin and Salem. "How long have you been hiding her away?"

Salem stepped in before he could speak. "Why, I felt like Ozpin has been with me there from the beginning." 'My life didn't begin until I met you.' The words from how she recounted her rescue from the tower echoed in his mind. Before her corruption, or curse, or his sickness. Back when they had just been… happy.

"Salem, I do not know why you are here, but I must ask that you leave. You will find no solace within these halls," Ozpin began before she cut him off.

"I know you're hesitant to let me become a Huntress but I think I've got what it takes. I've killed plenty of Grimm before and I've got a few tricks that I believe will make me an excellent Huntress." He stared at her stonily before she let out an over-exaggerated sigh. She's gone to quite some lengths to mimic a proper rebellious teenager.

"Just let me try and convince you. We can sit down, have an interview and I'll make my case." Her eyes darted over to Port and the Professor's mustache twitched, likely giving her a big grin. She's giving me an out to avoid revealing the truth to him, in addition to not lashing out and destroying what I've built over the past century.

"Very well, let us talk in my office." Stiffly, Ozpin turned on his heel, turning his back to his greatest foe. Something that every instinct screamed against, yet he logically knew did not matter. Salem had not divided his power as he had, and even at his peak, the nature of the curses placed upon him meant he would be vanquished in any conflict between them (to say nothing of the collateral their conflict would bring).

As they entered the elevator and started ascending to his office, he caught Salem humming a tune under her breath. I've never heard that one before. It wasn't too surprising, his duties as a headmaster kept him too busy to keep up on all the latest trends, so it was entirely possible he missed that song. Or it could have been one of her own creation, but that just raised further questions.

The elevator 'dinged' and they reached his office. Salem took in the sights with some feigned interest, the gears and chess board, the view from behind his desk, before she sat down daintily in front of it. The headmaster took his time settling himself in his seat, keeping his cane close in hand (an action Salem noticed but didn't comment on).

Clearing her throat, she began. "While I don't have official schooling in how to combat Grimm, I've got a lot of practical experience. As for defending civilization and dealing with the criminal elements of mankind, you could say I have keen eye for their weakpoints-"

"What are you doing?" Ozma demanded, throwing her off a bit.

"Uhh, explaining my credentials for my application to Beacon?" She tried with a sheepish grin, before dropping it adopting a more serious expression that seemed to age her half a decade. Nowhere near enough in my opinion but at least I don't have to see my wife's face anymore, just the monster. "Guess we're going to the serious stuff right away, huh?"

The wizard remained silent, wanting to see where she went with this; it was her show after all. I could call in Qrow and Amber, bring the might of all the faculty down upon her. There's a chance, however slim, that we could catch her off guard, find some way to continually kill her before she could do anything every time she resurrects. It was a harebrained plan however, one he hadn't even fully contemplated due to the unfeasibility of it all. She had chosen this battlefield, which meant she must be prepared in some way; he couldn't risk losing so many pieces for nothing. Instead, his hand remained poised to send out an alert telling all of them to flee.

"I do wish to be a Huntress. That isn't false or a scheme. The role they occupy in society is a new one."

"People have fought the Grimm for as long as can be remembered, since even our times we had Grimm-killers," Ozma pointed out.

"Ah, but those were more like exterminators, pest control back then," Salem pointed out, leaning back in her chair, as if this were a casual chat between two academics. "In the early days of this breed of humanity they hunted for game as much as hunted to defend their tribe against the Grimm - it's where the modern hunters get their name from. That was close, but hardly the same. Then came the eras of soldiers and knights, where their duty was to their country first and foremost, beyond a general sense of defending humanity. This exact niche you've carved out for them in the last century is unique."

"And you wish to be a part of them?"

"Yesssss."

"Denied."

"Whyyyyyy?" She moaned, suddenly pouting like a little girl again, and Ozma had to resist the urge to gnash his teeth together. She keeps on throwing me off with her antics and how differently she's behaving. If she had stormed in with an army at her heels and demands of supplication, offers of power, I could understand it, deal with it, but this? Bemoaning being told 'no' like a child? Why has she undergone such a change, and how do I deal with this?

"Because you, Salem, are the enemy of mankind. For starters, why would you want to be a Huntress in the first place?"

"I'm bored," she admitted shamelessly. "We live forever, and I don't spend half my time learning to deal with a new soul-bound roommate each century or so." One of Ozpin's eyelids twitched at that. "Despite that, there are still skills I haven't learned, things I haven't done. Being a Huntress chief among them. So I thought I'd take a break from our little war and be a Huntress."

Ozma took a deep breath, steadying himself. "You feel… that you get to just 'take a break?' From the war you've waged for longer than human memory?"

"Hey, it's human and faunus memory. Don't want the headmaster of Beacon to be seen as racist." She paused and tapped a finger on her chin. "But the only term that really encompasses the joint nature of the two sentient species of this epoch is 'mankind,' and that feels a little sexist."

Ozma shot up from where he was sitting and slammed his cane against the ground. The action sent out a shockwave strong enough to shatter the window behind him, scatter the papers on his desk and crack the ground. The force bowled Salem over and sent slivers of debris into her body, the minor wounds healing almost instantly. "Is this a joke to you?!" He demanded.

Don't overreact, she wants that. The thought was not the wizard's own, but that of his host. For the most part, their minds were fully fused, but occasionally, a host could speak up, distinct from the old man. Here, inundated as he had been with triggers to his past, Ozpin did, warning him to stay his hand.

With a sigh, the man with two souls loosened the knuckle-white grip he had on his cane. I can't use my trump card here. It would be far too damaging for far to little gain.

Salem for her part got up lazily. "Oww. That was rude. Not just to me, but think of all the damage you'll be forcing Glynda to fix?" With a wave of her hand a purple glow surrounded the broken room and all its pieces, forcing them all to slot back in place. "Well, I might as well give her a break."

Ozpin let out a heavy sigh, feeling as tired as ever. "What do you want?" It felt like a concession, despite him not agreeing to anything yet.

"To be a Huntress. And to answer your previous question, I haven't been joking about anything- well, okay, maybe the racist and sexist thing was a bit jokey, but it's honestly a serious academic question. Linguistically, it could be something to slowly change over time. Though people and the general populace can be oddly stubborn about such things."

Sitting back down in her seat, Ozma followed suit. "I want to be a Huntress and experience all that life has to offer. How long I'll want to be one I don't know, but I think a good hundred years ought to be a good start. We'll see how I feel after that."

"And during this time, you'll call off all Grimm attacks on civilization?" He pressed and she just laughed, a carefree sound that felt like a dagger to his heart from the memories it triggered.

"Hardly. I mean, what's the point of being a Huntress if I don't get the full experience, y'know? I won't lead them to attack, or anything," she clarified. "However, I won't be commanding them to stop or anything either. If I fight them, it will only be with my wits and perfectly honed physique!" She declared striking a dramatic pose that he would expect from Professor Port. "That, and my limitless magical might and cursed immortality."

Letting out a deep sigh, Ozma lowered his head, rubbing his temples with his hands. I should not let those two talk together for too long. It's fine though, I can deal with this, it could be a boon even. "Why then should I let you be a student at my school? It's a prestigious position," he pointed out.

She snorted, swiping a page off my desk. "Uhuh, so prestigious. Jaune Arc, age seventeen. Passed with perfect grades from all his classes in Sanctum Academy.'" She read off the paper. "Why, that's even better than three time champion Miss Nikos or the Silver-Eyed prodigy you let in two years early!" The witch declared with a faux-impressed face. "And yet he doesn't have a single reference letter or recommendation from any of his teachers, how curious. It almost seems like you're just throwing a fool into the meat grinder."

"How do you know of Ruby-"

"Oh relax, I said I'd hold off on any actions against you, and I will. Same for my people. Ruby Rose will be safe here. Well, as safe as any kid told to fight giant monsters that seek only death and destruction can be."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. There were more objections Ozpin could raise here. That this was all a scheme to learn more about Hunters, or to get close to his inner circle, but he knew those objections were spurious.

On the face of it, this is quite possibly the greatest opportunity I've ever been granted. Even if she's just pretending, I get to place her under my observation for however long and can greatly accelerate my plans while she has limited communication with her own minions. And if she isn't, then I would truly get at least a hundred years to act without having to deal with her plots. At least not directly. It hadn't evaded his notice that she let slip she still had minions doing things out in the world, but he hardly expected any less.

"Why here?" He had to ask. "You could have gone to any Hunters Academy in Remnant for this. Possibly even disguising yourself enough that I would be unaware of your presence. And even if I found out, you could sue for this truce after. Why directly come to me about this?"

She rose from her chair. "Like I said, this is a new role in society, and one crafted in large part directly by you, oh 'Last King of Vale.' If there's anyone I should learn how to be a Huntsman from, it's you. Oh, and Ironwood is too stiff, I don't think Theodore could ever get a good night's sleep if I was around at his academy, and Lionheart is a traitor."

"What?"

Rather than answer his question she simply pulled out the Lamp in it's miniaturized form from another pocket on her skirt, spinning it around a finger as she walked to the elevator. "Thanks for the deal, Professor, I'll see you at the start of term! Oh and you can get this back in, oh, a hundred years? Later gator." The elevator doors closed and she disappeared from sight.

"WHAT!?"