Chapter Text
Dr.InkSpot here with something new...
Well not really as I've had this sitting in my Word doc for about a few months now, It was sort of a random thought that popped into my head during my University History final, that then became a the beginning of a new story after finishing the recent Chapter of The Kaiserslacht. Anyway's enough of my ranting. I do hope you enjoy this new project
September 8th, 1935
Louisiana State Capitol, Baton Rouge
Huey Long stood at his desk in the marble halls of his monument to progress, savoring the sweet taste of another victory. The redistricting bill would finally remove Judge Benjamin Pavy from his seat of power - one more obstacle cleared on the path to 1936. The "Kingfish" allowed himself a small smile as he reviewed the day's achievements, his mind already racing ahead to the presidential campaign to come.
"They said I couldn't build this Capitol building either," he mused, running his hand along the polished wood of his desk. At 34 stories, it stood as the tallest state capitol in America - a testament to what could be achieved when you refused to bow to the old guard's limitations.
His thoughts drifted to the growing momentum of his Share Our Wealth program. Already, over seven million Americans had pledged their support. Every week, more Americans tuned in to hear his radio addresses, desperate for hope in these dark times. While Roosevelt played at being a friend to the common man, Long knew he was the only one truly fighting to make "Every Man a King."
The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside drew his attention. The Louisiana Highway Patrol would be waiting to escort him - security had become a necessary precaution these days. The death threats had increased since he'd announced his presidential ambitions, but Long had never been one to back down from a fight. There was too much at stake, too many people counting on him.
He gathered his papers, thoughts already turning to his next speech. The words were taking shape in his mind: "We need to do something about the concentration of wealth in this country, my friends. When one man can earn more in a day than his workers earn in a year, something is wrong with the system..."
Long checked his watch - nearly 9:30 PM. The Capitol's marble halls were quieter now, most of the legislators and staff having left for the evening. Just a few more matters to attend to before heading home. He'd promised Rose he wouldn't work too late tonight, but there was always more to be done. The '36 campaign wouldn't build itself.
Stepping into the hallway outside the Senate chamber, Long nodded to the Highway Patrol officers stationed nearby. The echo of his footsteps bounced off the marble walls, mixing with the distant sound of voices somewhere in the building. He was contemplating tomorrow's schedule when movement caught his eye - a figure emerging from around the corner.
Dr. Carl Weiss.
Long recognized the young doctor, Pavy's son-in-law, but something was different about his expression. Before Long could speak, he saw the glint of metal in Weiss's hand.
The gunshot cracked through the corridor like thunder.
For a moment, Long didn't feel the pain - just a sudden pressure in his abdomen. His mind struggled to process what had happened as he staggered backward. Weiss was still there, gun raised, face contorted with hatred.
Then the hallway erupted in chaos.
The Highway Patrol officers opened fire, their shots deafening in the marble corridor. Long's knees buckled as the burning pain finally registered. He pressed his hand against his stomach, feeling the warm wetness spreading across his white suit. Somewhere in the cacophony of gunfire, he heard Weiss cry out.
"Get... get me to the hospital," Long managed through gritted teeth. His officers rushed to his side, their faces pale with shock. The marble floor was cold against his back - when had he fallen? The ceiling seemed to swim above him, the ornate designs blurring at the edges of his vision.
Everything was happening too fast. There was so much left to do. The campaign, Share Our Wealth, his plans for America... they couldn't end here in this hallway.
The world began to fade in and out as his officers carried him. Voices shouted around him, urgent and afraid. "The Governor's been shot!" "Get the doctor!" "Stay with us, Governor!"
The next clear moment was the hospital. White walls, harsh lights, the sharp smell of antiseptic. Doctors hovering over him, their faces grim. The pain was everywhere now, consuming everything except one burning thought: he couldn't die. Not now. Not with so much left unfinished.
The operation seemed to last forever, consciousness coming and going like waves on a shore. The doctors' whispered conversations grew more urgent with each passing hour. Long could feel himself slipping, despite their best efforts.
His mind drifted through memories - standing before crowds of thousands, their faces bright with hope as he promised them a better future. Building schools for children who'd never had them before. Fighting the Standard Oil monopoly. Every victory, every defeat, every step of the long climb from a poor farm in Winnfield to the highest halls of power.
But it wasn't enough. There was still so much left to do.
The pain was fading now, replaced by a creeping coldness. The doctors' faces told him what he didn't want to accept. With what strength he had left, Long forced out the words that burned in his heart a plea to the almighty:
"God, don't let me die. I have so much to do."
The world faded to darkness, the hospital dissolving around him. Long felt himself falling through an endless void, his last thoughts a desperate prayer that someone would continue his work.
Then... pain again. Different this time - sharper, clearer. A strange tingling sensation coursed through his body, like electricity but somehow warm. Long's eyes fluttered open to unfamiliar surroundings. A small clinic, not the grand hospital he remembered. Simple wooden walls instead of sterile white.
"Try not to move too quickly," a gentle voice advised. "Your Aura's just been unlocked - it'll take some time to adjust."
Long weakly turned his head toward the voice, then blinked in confusion. The doctor leaning over him appeared normal enough, except for what looked like... dog ears? Rising from his head? Long squeezed his eyes shut, assuming the medication was causing hallucinations.
"I must be delirious," he muttered.
"That's a normal reaction," the doctor replied calmly. "You've lost a lot of blood. We found you outside the settlement walls - you're lucky the Grimm didn't get to you first."
Grimm? Settlement walls? None of it made sense. Long opened his eyes again, his gaze drifting to the window. The night sky outside made his breath catch in his throat. Where there should have been a full moon hanging over Louisiana, he saw instead an impossible sight - a shattered moon, its broken pieces scattered across the star-filled sky.
Long tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled with the effort. The room spun, and he fell back against the thin pillow, his breath coming in short gasps. Everything felt wrong - his body too heavy and too light all at once.
"Easy now," the doctor cautioned, adjusting something in Long's IV line. "Your unlocked Aura is helping, but your body's been through severe trauma. You need rest."
Long blinked slowly, fighting against the exhaustion that pulled at him. The dog-eared doctor moved around the small clinic, checking instruments Long didn't recognize. The warm tingling sensation - Aura, the doctor had called it - continued to pulse through his body in waves.
"This... this can't be real," Long managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was in Baton Rouge. The hospital..." His words trailed off as another wave of fatigue washed over him.
"You're in Oakwood, about thirty miles from Vale," the doctor explained, checking Long's pulse. "As for how you got here..." He shrugged, his canine ears twitching slightly. "That's something we were hoping you could tell us."
Vale? Long had never heard of it. He tried to focus, to make sense of what he was seeing, but his thoughts kept slipping away like water through his fingers. The impossible moon hung in the window, mocking his attempts to deny its existence.
"I died," Long whispered, the realization hitting him with surprising clarity despite his exhaustion. "In the hospital, I died." The words felt strange in his mouth, yet he knew they were true. He could still remember the coldness creeping through him, the lights of the hospital fading away.
The doctor paused in his work, studying Long with concerned eyes. "You should rest. Whatever brought you here, whatever you've been through - it can wait until you're stronger and no longer delirious."
But Long's mind, even clouded by fatigue, couldn't escape the crushing weight of what he'd lost. Louisiana, Rose, his children - gone. The Share Our Wealth movement, the presidential campaign, seven million Americans counting on him - all of it reduced to nothing by a single bullet in a marble hallway.
The thought was too much to bear. Whatever this place was, wherever he'd ended up, he was truly alone now. Everything he'd built, everyone he'd loved - it might as well have never existed.
The exhaustion finally overcame him, but even in sleep, the weight of his losses pressed down like a stone.
Three Days Later
Long woke to sunlight streaming through the clinic window. The strange tingling sensation had settled into a steady warmth throughout his body, and for the first time since awakening, he felt strong enough to sit up without the room spinning.
The dog-eared doctor - Dr. Shepherd, he'd introduced himself - was reviewing charts at a small desk. "Feeling better?" he asked, noticing Long's movement.
"Strong enough to ask some questions," Long replied, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His clothes - or what remained of them - had been replaced with simple worker's garb. "Starting with where exactly I am."
Dr. Shepherd set down his charts. "Oakwood, Kingdom of Vale. We're a farming community about thirty miles from the capital city. As for how you got here..." He spread his hands helplessly. "We found you unconscious outside our walls three nights ago, bleeding from what looked like a gunshot wound. Your clothes were badly damaged and had to be replaced."
Long reached into the pocket of his new pants and was surprised to find his wallet, though most of its contents were gone. A few coins remained - quarters, dimes, and a half-dollar, their silver gleaming in the morning light.
"Is this currency good here?" Long asked, showing the coins.
Dr. Shepherd examined them with interest. "Silver and copper... they'd have some value as metals, but they're not legal tender in Vale. You'll need Lien for that." He hesitated. "I'm afraid I can't offer much help with finding work or lodging. The settlement's resources are stretched thin as it is."
Long nodded, pocketing the coins. At least they were something. "I appreciate what you've done for me, Doctor. Saving my life when you didn't know me from Adam."
"Every life has value," Dr. Shepherd replied simply. "Though I'll admit, I'm curious about your story. Those wounds... they weren't from any Huntsmen weapon I recognize."
Long stood carefully, testing his balance. The Aura - whatever it was - had done remarkable work. He felt weak but functional. "Doctor, is there somewhere in this settlement where a man might get a drink and hear the local news?"
"The Broken Wheel tavern, two blocks down Main Street. But Mr...?"
"Long. Huey Long."
"Mr. Long, I'd recommend taking things slowly. Your body's been through a tremendous shock."
Long managed a weak smile - his first since awakening. "Doctor, I've been taking things slowly my whole life until I learned better. Thank you for everything."
The walk to the tavern took longer than it should have, but Long refused to show weakness. Oakwood was smaller than any town he'd governed, its wooden buildings practical rather than impressive. The people he passed were hardworking folk - farmers, craftsmen, and their families - but their faces carried a weariness he recognized from his early days in Louisiana.
The Broken Wheel lived up to its name, a weathered establishment that had seen better years. Long pushed through the doors into a dimly lit interior filled with the smell of cheap alcohol and working men's sweat.
He ordered whiskey and took a seat at the bar, nursing his drink while listening to the conversations around him. At first, it was just idle chatter - crop yields, weather, family gossip, and something called the White Fang. But as the evening wore on and more locals arrived, the talk turned to politics and grievances.
"Council's raised taxes again," grumbled a man at a nearby table. "Third time this year."
"What do they spend it on?" asked his companion, a woman with distinctly feline ears poking through her hair. "Roads are still dangerous with the Raiders, and Grimm."
"Goes to Vale and the Councils pocket, same as always," the first man replied bitterly. "We pay for their fancy buildings and dust while our children go to school in a converted barn."
Long's attention sharpened. He'd heard similar complaints in every rural parish in Louisiana.
"Don't forget how they jacked up dust prices for us frontier settlements," another voice chimed in from across the room. "Same dust that costs half as much in Vale proper, but somehow becomes twice as expensive by the time it reaches us."
"Highway robbery, that's what it is," the cat-eared woman spat. "Council claims it's transportation costs, but we all know it's just another way to squeeze us dry. City folk get subsidized rates while we pay through the nose."
"At least we can hire Huntsmen when the Grimm get too close or to many," someone else chimed in.
"Can we?" The woman with cat ears laughed harshly. "You seen what they charge? My cousin over in Millfield said the town nearly got overrun because they couldn't afford Beacon Academy's rates."
"Beacon Academy?" Long set down his glass, turning toward the conversation.
"You new around here?" The woman studied him with sharp eyes. "Beacon's the Huntsman Academy in Vale. They train kids to fight Grimm, then charge us through the nose for protection."
"And their headmaster sits on the Council," added the first man. "Professor Ozpin. Makes sure the Huntsmen and Huntsmen in training get first pick of contracts."
Long felt something stir in his chest - the same righteous anger that had driven him to challenge Standard Oil and the old guard in Louisiana. "Sounds like a conflict of interest."
"That's putting it mildly," the cat-eared woman snorted. "Half the Council's in someone's pocket - usually the Headmaster's. The other half can't agree on what day it is. Meanwhile, settlements like ours get squeezed from both ends."
"What about the Faunus revolution I've heard mentioned?" Long asked carefully. "Didn't that change things?"
The woman's ears flattened against her head. "Changed some things. We can vote now, work most jobs. But try getting a fair wage from a human employer, or fair treatment from a human shopkeeper. The White Fang does what it can with protests and negotiations, but..." She shrugged.
"But peaceful protests only go so far when the system's rigged against you," Long finished.
She looked at him with new interest. "You sound like you've thought about this before."
Long had been thinking about it - more than he'd realized. These weren't Louisiana farmers struggling against Standard Oil, but the pattern was the same. The powerful exploiting the powerless while hiding behind laws and institutions they controlled.
"Tell me about Mount Glenn," he said, remembering something Dr. Shepherd had mentioned.
The tavern went quiet. The cat-eared woman's expression darkened. "What do you want to know about that disaster?"
"Just... what happened?"
"About 17 years ago Council decided Vale needed expansion," she said bitterly. "New city, new opportunities. Picked a spot southeast of the main city surrounded by forest and started building. Problem was, they didn't plan for proper Grimm defenses. Didn't listen to the people who knew the area."
"And?" Long prompted..
"And the Grimm overran it. Thousands dead, Millions if not billions of Lien wasted. But did any Council members lose their jobs? Did Headmaster Ozpin face consequences for supporting the project?" She shook her head. "Course not. They just wrote it off as a tragedy and learning experience then moved on."
Long drained his whiskey, feeling the familiar fire building in his chest. Different world, different names, same old story - the common people paying the price for the failures of their so-called betters.
"Gentlemen," he said, standing slowly. "Ladies. I'm new to these parts, but what I'm hearing sounds mighty familiar. You've got a government that takes your money but doesn't serve your interests. You've got powerful institutions more concerned with their own welfare than yours. And you've got people-Human and Faunus alike-getting the short end of the stick while the rich get richer."
The tavern had gone completely quiet now, all eyes on Long.
"Now, I don't know much about Vale yet," he continued, his voice gaining strength. "But I know something about fighting systems that are rigged against the common man. And what I'm hearing tells me this Kingdom of Vale needs someone willing to stand up and make some noise."
The cat-eared woman - Crystal, someone had called her - leaned forward. "You talk like a politician."
Long smiled, and for the first time since awakening in this strange world, it felt genuine. "Ma'am, I've been called worse things than that. Question is, are folks around here ready for someone to actually do something about their problems, or are they content to just complain over drinks?"
A murmur ran through the tavern. Long could see it in their faces - the same desperate hope he'd seen in Louisiana, the hunger for someone to finally fight for them instead of just making empty promises.
He was in a different world, with a different name and different problems. But the song remained the same - and Huey Long knew exactly how to conduct this particular orchestra.
"Every Man a King," he said quietly, then louder: "But no one wears a crown."
The fire was back. And this time, he wouldn't let anyone put it out.