Author's Note: Italics are thoughts. Minor dialogue stolen from RWBY, season 1. Each section is written with one viewpoint character and the observations within are their own. They do sometimes miss things and they do, often, assign incorrect motives to one another. Especially those who think they're dealing with a teenage trainee, not a grandfatherly assassin.
"Ruby Rose, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, Weiss Schnee, the four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as team Rhinoceros, led by…Ruby Rose." Weiss looked like someone had stolen her favorite toy. Glad I didn't choose that pair. That's a time bomb waiting to explode.
"And finally, Yang Xiao Long, Juane Arc, Blake Belladona, Pyrrha Nikos, the four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team Lambchop, led by Yang Xiao Long." With a few final parting words, he dismissed the students to their celebration, with a gentle warning that class started the next day at 0900.
Interesting. They either know a lot more about the students than I'd expect, or they watched our performance in the woods somehow. I didn't see any cameras or drones, but the tech here is significantly different then I'm used to, I'll need to look into it.
Priorities:
1)Eliminate Sloane
2)Survive
Initial steps:
1)Gain a basic working knowledge of this world
2)Be able to search for Rambaldi devices and/or the materials necessary to recreate his devices by:
a)Gaining a sufficient understanding of their technology to be able to cover my tracks while searching electronically; and/or
b)Gaining sufficient influence over the local underworld to be able to coerce people to search physically/electronically in a manner which does not lead back to me.
Conclusion:
I need additional information about this word. This is a school, it will have a library.
Jack had made sure he was first in line to congratulate Yang, then slipped away while the rest of the team was doing that. He slid easily through the throng of students celebrating their initiation and, rather awkwardly, introducing themselves to the people they'd be working with for the next four years. Automatically he took steps to lose any pursuers in the crowd, without being aware of the existence of any such pursuers, then he was out of the auditorium where the party was being held and caught one of the staff. A polite inquiry got him directions to the library.
His belief that they were being observed in some fashion was confirmed when Professor Goodwitch appeared in front of him, without even bothering to pretend to be doing anything except waiting for him. Interesting, are we supposed to know we're under surveillance, or does she simply think we're too stupid/naïve to figure it out? A polite nod to the woman, ignoring the crossed arms and the tattoo her riding crop was beating against her own side, and he tried to slip past her.
"And where are you going, Mr. Arc?" she asked, in a voice about as warm as glacier.
Only by main force did Jack prevent his own voice from sliding in that direction. Instead he kept it light, if not exactly teenageresque, "If you intended the auditorium as a cell, I think you forgot the bars," he let his eyes flicker over her frame. The woman was tall, almost four inches taller than his own (admittedly new and unmeasured) height. The effect was probably extremely intimidating to his fellow students, but…Jack had always been bad at cowering, even when it was the right tactical move. And he thought capes were thoroughly stupid, though Sydney had corrected his viewpoint on the capabilities of people in high heels, "But perhaps not the guards."
She flushed at the implication and stepped forward, looming above him, arms uncrossing to free them, though her crop continued to beat out a rhythm, now against her thigh. Automatically he assessed the threat. Unknown abilities, physically strong, larger than me. Deformation at top of right boot, slight hitch from object in small of back, both easily reachable by right hand. Probably very dominantly right handed. Evade to the left and strike hard. Skirt may bind and interfere with movements, or not, can't tell. Glasses may be worth removing, or they may just be an affectation, given how unstable they are the latter is most likely. "I asked you a question, Mr. Arc."
"Yes, you did. And I'm asking what business it is of yours where I'm going. Have I violated some rule I am unaware of?" This is foolish. Don't let yourself be riled. Be invisible! She opened her mouth to respond and Jack forced a false smile to his lips. "I apologize, Professor Goodwitch. Leftover adrenaline from the initiation. I'm just heading over to the library to get acquainted with it. Trying to get a head start on the classwork coming up."
"Then you won't mind an escort?" she asked, testing him.
Not at all, do feel free to have one waiting in my quarters when I finish my work. "Of course not. I'd be glad of one, all these halls look the same." Which did not mean, despite the implication, that he was lost.
"Your scroll should have been uploaded with a map of Beacon," she said, eyes narrowing somewhat suspiciously.
Scroll? Must be some sort of electronic device if it's had a map uploaded…"Of course, but I can't be looking at a map every time I need to get anywhere. Better to just throw myself in. Especially since I don't have anywhere to be until tomorrow at oh-" shit, they don't use military time, he faked a cough, "nine o'clock." Her eyes narrowed further, so she was basically squinting at him. "If you're looking to play tour guide, I certainly wouldn't say no. I assume this place has a gym and some classrooms stored away somewhere?"
"Of course," she guided him through the halls at what was clearly supposed to be an uncomfortable pace for the shorter man and pointed out a dozen halls leading to a dozen different locations. Despite being embarrassingly out of shape, Jack kept up and managed to conceal the growing stitch in his side as she took the long way around to the library.
She proceeded to observe him picking out books. Jack picked out very simple books and took a seat in the corner where he could see the entrances and put his back to a wall if he needed to. "Those are basic texts, Mr. Arc, I'm surprised they hold anything of interest to someone qualified to attend Beacon Academy."
"Then why are they in the library at Beacon Academy?" Jack asked, innocently.
"That's hardly the question. What's your interest in them?"
"It's always good to review basic materials. But, as you note, this is a new school for me. It's always interesting to compare how different texts and different schools cover the same material and what they think is important. Don't you find that to be true?"
"Alas, I lack the time to read every basic text put out on the topic of being a Huntress, as I am the deputy Headmistress of Beacon Academy," she snapped.
"And yet you have time to watch me read. Should I be honored, or disturbed by this?" Jack countered mildly, not looking up from the book he was reading.
Peripheral vision noted her skin flushing, but she maintained control. "I always have time for my students. And another needs me now," she snapped, stalking away.
Jack tried to keep his eyes on his book, but teenage hormones would not be entirely denied and his head turned to watch her leave. Impressive…library, Jack lied to himself then dug back into the book until he was certain he was alone. Then he carefully searched himself for this scroll. It took an embarrassingly long time, but the body's armor hadn't been properly fitted and the clothing was strange, the fabrics oddly smooth, in whole he wasn't sure which sensations indicated the scroll and which indicated something else.
Eventually he did find it. A white object about the size of a cell-phone, with no visible screen or buttons. An almost invisible seam ran down the center. After pressing it to no avail, he tried opening it. That worked. There was a large screen in the center. A yellow diamond was in the center of the screen. This time he tried to pull the diamond open. Alas, the correct motion this time was to press it. Biometric lock, or unlocked? He wondered as icons began to appear.
The system was relatively intuitive, at least for someone who'd been forced to learn to use the cell phones, electronic leashes, which the CIA insisted its officers use. There were indeed maps, which he promptly memorized, as well as class schedules and reading for the first day. It took him less than an hour to rip through that reading, mostly because he'd learned the fine art of summarizing material in his head as he read, eyes skipping to the relevant parts. With that done, he headed to the area labelled gym and attempted his usual workout.
That failed miserably. After an even more embarrassingly long time, he remembered he wasn't in his own body and attempted the exercises they'd put him through back when he started boot camp, not his own, personalized ones. That went better, though not well. A quick look around ensured he was alone and he spent a good ten minutes going over every piece of equipment on his body to see if it would transform into a gun. None of it did. Though the discovery that his sheath transformed into a shield was an interesting one. That would have been useful to know this morning. It also impressed upon him the importance of aura as the damn thing tried to bury itself in his chest when he finally found the mechanism to deploy it.
An hour of practice with the blade and shield gave him a smooth means of turning a sheathed blade into a held sword and shield without either dropping anything, or creating any obvious openings in his defenses. Still, if he truly meant to use the blasted thing, he was going to need training. Lots of it. Fortunately, he was in a school.
A quick (well, it was supposed to be quick until teenage metabolism got involved) stop in a small dining room, independent of the main cafeteria, filled his stomach (he had brought along another of the books he was reading and read most of it as he devoured enough food to feed a small village), before he retired to the dorm labelled as his own on the map.
Discovering that there were four beds was surprising. There was also a massive amount of luggage and two sets of uniforms and one set of pajamas for each of them. That confirmed that he would be rooming with his teammates. Three girls. Definitely not on Earth. Certain, teenaged, parts (well, part) of him, quite liked this idea. The rest of him ignored that bit, slipped into his pajamas, carefully placed his sword within reach of his bed and went to sleep before any of the other teammates could arrive.
Pyrrha was having fun. Yang and Blake were great, unintimidated by her reputation. Nora was a blast, Ren harder to get a read on. Ruby was overly energetic, but at least enthused by the same things that got Pyrrha going, weapons, fighting, tactics. Weiss was the only irritant, and only because she was so obviously set on trying to use Pyrrha to improve her own standing at Beacon. All too familiar with such attempts to leach off her, Pyrrha almost automatically avoided the other girl. Most of the others, except other leaches avoided her, too intimidated to approach.
The celebration was long and had broken into a sprawling party filling the cafeteria, with teams drifting out and back, searching through the halls for various things. A group of other students were gathered around a gaming console of some sort and others were sharing delicacies from home they'd brought.
Everyone was there, socializing and trying to claim an identity for their time at Beacon. Pyrrha didn't bother, as hers had already been claimed for her, merely by her presence. The absence of Juane was more surprising. The man she'd met before the initiation had been charmingly ignorant of her abilities and experience, but also almost painfully eager to claim a position of leadership. Even after his personality shift when in actual danger, she'd anticipated having to console him when Yang was appointed team leader. Instead he'd appropriately congratulated her, then vanished.
After some socializing, Pyrrha went to look for him, assuming she'd find him sulking somewhere. She failed completely. It wasn't until she returned to the party and was finally dragged off to bed along with Yang by Blake that she realized he'd gone to bed long since. Who are you? was her last thought before drifting off to sleep herself.
Jack woke up, but didn't move, or change his breathing patterns. For a moment, he lay there listening, which told him that there were three other people in the room, either asleep, or who had practiced feigning sleep to the same high level of skill he had. He'd woken when they entered, but gone back to sleep when they crashed into their own beds and didn't approach his. Now his eyes slitted open and glanced at the clock which announced that it was 2:57 AM. Since Jack always woke up at 0600, unless someone woke him earlier, he now knew the time difference between the odd world of Remnant and Earth. It seemed somehow banal that the difference was about the same as travelling from his home in Los Angeles to Honolulu.
It took him almost five minutes to force his body to go back to sleep, as was his usual practice when adapting to a new time zone. Usually, however it was a much faster process. Of course, usually, he was not in the body of a teenage boy, alone in a room with three girls. Parts of him really wanted to be up and about. The rest of him overruled them ruthlessly and fell back asleep, only to be troubled by disturbing dreams about the white-faced creatures they called Grimm.
Still, he woke in silence at approximately 0600. After waiting for his eyes to adjust to the minimal light in the room, he rose silently. He knew his movements from the bed to the dresser were absolutely silent, but he still saw Blake's eyes flicker open and flash in the darkness, tracking his movements. Training kept him from looking directly at her, instead he kept her in his peripheral vision as he retrieved his 'uniform.' It's actually not so bad, it's just not a uniform. As a suit, it's only irritating. Thirty years I wore a suit, and I never got used to voluntarily wearing a garrote around my neck. I can't believe that such a stupid piece of clothing was created independently on two different worlds.
He'd chosen a middle bunk, which meant he had to turn his back on Blake to reach the bathroom opposite the entrance, unless he was willing to back his way through the room. That made his back tighten up, despite the fact that his aura would protect him from at least the first blow, if she turned on him. A few moments later his bladder was empty, his hygiene taken care of (except for the shower which would come later) and the uniform was on. The fabric was light and breathed easily.
He slid out as silently as he entered and Blake's eyes slitted open again, eyes flashing. This time he could look in her general direction as he was heading for the door behind her bed. She wears the bow to bed. Odd. She can see in the dark, reacts to movement even without noise, hides her reactions pretty well, eyes flash in the dark. Interesting. Her body tensed as he approached her, hand moving stealthily towards something under her pillow, Well, at least someone here has a sensible attitude about things, he thought as he slid past her without a glance and out the door, ignoring the prickling between his shoulderblades.
Jack had finished his workout, his shower and breakfast before 0730 and headed back to the dorm. There was movement inside, so he didn't bother with moving quietly. When the door opened they looked at him guiltily and the conversation ceased. Wonderful, I'm the object of gossip.
An awkward trio of greetings met his distinctly unamused glare. Pyrrha asked where he'd been, while Blake pretended not to care. "Preparing for the day," he said blandly.
There was an awkward pause as they considered the complete absence of anything resembling information in that response. Yang rallied magnificently, their team leader summoning her strength and cheerily informed him that they'd been unpacking, as if Jack could have missed the greatly diminished mound of luggage, though it had been replaced with an almost as large collection of empty luggage. The remaining bags must belong to his body.
"I prioritized breakfast and completing the first day's reading over unpacking. An error I will now rectify, team leader," Jack said, almost entirely concealing the irritation he felt at being commanded by a teenager.
Yang's eyes bulged dramatically and she appeared so crestfallen Jack almost took it for mockery before she spoke, "First day's reading?" she asked.
"It was sent to your scroll last night?" Pyrrha offered.
Yang grabbed for her scroll and slid through various messages from her friends, finally finding the brief message containing the assignments. "Shoot. Guess we'll be stumblebuddies together, huh Blake?" she asked, turning to her partner hopefully.
Blake shook her head slightly.
"Et tu Blakey?"
Blake nodded, equally slightly.
"Traitors! All of you!" Yang declaimed melodramatically.
"You still have an hour and a half. If you skip breakfast it won't be—" Pyrrha began as Jack decided to ignore the byplay and begin to examine 'his' belongings.
"HERESY!" Yang shrieked, turning on Pyrrha and flinging a pillow at the other girl. "Blake! She's trying to starve me! It's a coup! A mutiny! Protect me, partner!" she flung herself energetically behind the slighter girl.
Blake and Pyrrha stared at each other for a moment, before Yang's sheer enthusiasm dragged the other girls along.
Jack ignored the deliberate melodrama and began to unpack decidedly hideous clothes, a handful of books, and a few pictures. The body's parents? Siblings? Friends? Unlabeled unfortunately. These others seem to barely know him and the school is a boarding school, still, communications with the family will be dangerous. I'll need to dig into his history. That will be fun. Jack should not have felt any guilt over the fate of whatever mind had occupied the body before his arrival. Where there was no choice, there could be no guilt. And yet there was. Irritating. Jack knew enough about him to know that he should simply accept what he actually felt and deal with it. Avoidance was probably the best strategy here. Very common for young people who went away to school. Not that Sydney needed that excuse…
Unpacking was a simple enough matter, though, somewhat unsurprisingly he'd been left with minimal drawer and even more minimal closet space. After living with a wife and a daughter, Jack was used to packing his clothes into the minimal available space, however the intervening fifteen years of living alone had somewhat weakened that experience. Still, he'd lived out of a rucksack more than once he could fit everything in with only a minimum of discrete shoving.
About the time he finished, the epic battle between the usurper, Pyrrha, the queen, Yang, and her sometimes-loyal courtier, Blake, reached its conclusion with an explosion of pillows. Jack looked over at them, to find them locked in battle, which turned instantly to a friendly hug the moment they noticed him watching. "I trust my pillow is still fine?" he asked, before retreating to the bathroom to change back into his combat uniform, as they were supposed to wear that day.
Jack didn't flinch when he saw Professor Peter Port. But that was only because he didn't want to draw the elderly huntsman's eye. I've seen people like that before. Rewrote his own history into a story with him as the hero so the blood doesn't stick to his hands. Don't know who he killed, or who he lost, but it left him broken and dangerous. Avoid if possible. Play into delusions if not.
None of the others, not even Blake, noticed it was an act. Despite the fact that he was an instructor at the premier monster-hunter academy, they all seemed to view him as something of a joke. After a few moments, he noticed everyone else was ignoring the, admittedly dull tale the professor was telling with no consequences. A few minutes after that, he retrieved a book of his own and continued his education on the world he was inhabiting, leaving only a fraction of his attention on the activity in front of him, it would be enough to warn him if the time-bomb in front of him exploded.
The call for volunteers did not produce any response from him. One thing his years in the army had taught him was never to volunteer. Weiss's eagerness to volunteer for battle against a boar-like Grimm was unsurprising, though the fact that she beat Yang, Nora and Ruby to it was.
Perhaps leadership roles were having the desired effect on the girls (except for Nora, who was too unpredictable to, well, predict). Watching Weiss's battle occur over the top of his book was tricky, especially since Pyrrha was watching him, either piningly, or suspiciously, he couldn't tell without closer examination, which seemed unwise, either way.
Weiss was impressive, though the fractures between her and Ruby had only grown more obvious and debilitating since the younger girl had been named team leader. Ignoring the girl's advice was one thing, letting it distract her so much she almost got gored was another. Despite the distractions, she finally used her magic—Dust—to finish the Grimm off, prompting the professor to release them all ten minutes early. Since the morning consisted of three fifty minute classes with ten minute breaks in between, that left Jack with almost twenty minutes on his hands before the physical education class with Professor Goodwitch.
Jack fled swiftly from his teammates and the mad professor, sliding past the bickering Weiss and Ruby as he pulled his slate out and began to review the school's charter and rules. With the first day clearly under control, he needed to figure out a way to handle the surveillance and find the information he needed. To do that, he needed free time. And while the assignments weren't hard for him, they would take time, time he could not spare. He needed a way out without surrendering the—So far—secure base of operations his body's previous occupant had gained for him.
I'm being followed.
"Ozpin made a mistake," Weiss snapped at Ruby, before pulling away. She spotted Juane's back as the other trainee moved away swiftly. Without quite knowing why, she found herself following him. A moment's though came up with a justification. Obviously he shouldn't have been in charge of my team, but he or Pyrrha should have been in charge of their team. Yang? Does Ozpin owe their father money or something? SO UNFAIR! She followed him, seeking a companion in her misery.
Where's he going? She thought as she turned a corner and almost ran into him, hands hanging loose by his side. Soulless blue eyes met hers with an indifference that drove her back a step, hand falling to the hilt of her rapier. "Can I help you, Ms. Schnee?"
"No," she forced her voice not to waver. This was a mistake.
"Come now, Ms. Schnee, you followed me for a reason."
"I was—wasn't following you."
"So you decided to take four rights in a row because you wanted to take a little tour around this classroom?" Juane asked innocently.
"I—" I did! He knew I was following him! "was just wondering how you were taking Yang's elevation to the rank of team leader. I didn't see you at the party, or anywhere around your team, or your partner."
Juane tilted his head. "I see. You want to know why Ruby was named team leader."
"I didn't—"
"And even more, you want to know why you weren't."
"I—"
"So instead of asking the Headmaster, who made the decision, you come to me."
"Stop interrupting me!"
"Well, at least you aren't entirely dense."
The rapier slid out an inch before she remembered the consequences of attacking another student at Beacon.
"No, not entirely dense," he said with a smirk.
This was a mistake. "You'd know dense!" she managed, then turned on her heel to stalk away.
"So you don't want an answer to your questions?" he asked her back.
"Like you know."
"Oh, but I do. During out little foray into the forest, Ruby was impulsive, acting without forethought and endangered herself without a second thought."
"Exactly why she can't be in charge!" Weiss agreed, snapping around to face him again.
"And do you think being in charge of three other trainees and responsible for their well-being might cause that behavior to change?" Juane asked.
Weiss didn't have an answer for that.
"As for yourself, you couldn't be in charge because you're too used to being in command. You need to learn to convince people, rather than command them and to follow orders."
Weiss winced at that. "Then what about you? What's your character flaw that means you landed where you did?" Ass!
"It's hardly complicated. I'm by far the weakest fighter on our team. Appointing me team leader would permit me to remain so by assigning the difficult and dangerous tasks to others. I assume the Headmaster also believes that social pressure from the rest of the team will induce me to try hard to become stronger."
"And you're just fine with that? Ozpin playing you like a puppet?" Weiss snapped.
"The Headmaster may attempt to manipulate me all he likes, I will not pull against his strings for no purpose. When my team needs to act, I can and will arrange it so that they act in the fashion I believe correct. I do not need to be team leader for that. Why do you?"
"I—" Weiss paused. Because I'm a Schnee. For my father. For my name.
"When you know what you want the team to do, you'll know if you need to take command, or if," Juane's blank face twisted with the smallest of smirks, "strings, yours or Ozpins, for we all use strings, will be sufficient. Until you know, command would be merely an empty and pointless honor."
Weiss stared at him for a moment. "When we first met, I thought you were ridiculous." Juane's face resumed its blankness. "Now I realize, you are weird!" she stomped off, muttering to herself about the insanity of the whole idea of an empty or pointless honor.
Perhaps I should keep moving. No. I'm not having that man at my back without any witnesses around. "Enjoy the show, Professor Port?" Jack caroled.
"Not as much as the earlier one. That girl has the blood of a true huntress in her. You however…your advice was not that of a huntsman. It was that of a spy."
"Not a very good one, to act so visibly, in front of you, no less."
"Would it be better to do so in front of one of the other professors?" Port asked.
"Don't play the fool with me, Professor, I know a killer when I see one. But, in the interest of escaping this encounter alive, I will tell you, I am not spying on Beacon Academy. I am not spying for any power on Remnant. I am exactly what I appear, namely a man who's compensating for his weakness with his intellect. Now, I have to get to my next class, will you interfere?"
"Of course not, Mr. Arc! You are indeed, most cynical, to imagine that I, a huntsman of the highest caliber would—"
Jack was gone, having backed around the corner and then retreated to the next class, relieved to be in amongst a throng which would probably keep the mad professor from following him. His relief faded somewhat as he realized that Professor Goodwitch had not taken their previous encounter with good humor, as she demonstrated by pitting him against Nora in the first bout of the class.
That was unpleasant. Despite the girl's madness, she flattened him easily enough. He got a few strikes in, mostly because she didn't bother with defense, but not enough to stop the match from being embarrassingly one-sided. At least it gave him an excuse to go looking for someone to tutor him in swordplay. It also gave him another example of their technology and the power of the aura. Practicing with naked blades was a dangerous thing back home, but here it was commonplace and clearly they could measure the aura very accurately, calling off the bout when his dropped to a point where it would not defend him from the next attack and calling him down off the fighting platform to join his fellows in the seats, to observe the next bouts.
Then came history class, which was most notable for the fact that Professor Oobleck was constitutionally incapable of pausing for any length of time and seemed to not need to breathe during his lectures. Then came lunch, during which he could not find a way to avoid his 'teammates' without directly insulting them. So instead he ate and read yet more of information regarding the functionality of scrolls and electronic security. He'd never been an expert in computer security, being both too old and not particularly interested, but he knew enough to handle himself, at least on Earth. Here, it was somewhat more difficult.
He did pry his nose out of his book long enough to ask if any of them knew anything about swordplay. To his utter lack of surprise, Pyrrha did and she volunteered to teach him. A quick acceptance and he had plans in the afternoon after classes were over. Irritating. I'm attempting to clear my schedule, not add to it. Still, the weapons are apparently meaningful enough that I can't simply visibly switch out my sword for an M-16, even after I have the resources to have one made. Not without raising questions I don't want to answer.
Then he had an afternoon of dull classes, field medicine, demolitions, and basic investigative techniques. They weren't bad classes, but none of them were anything he wasn't fully qualified in. Which gave him an idea…
Author's Note: Sorry about the team names. If you can come up with something better, please let me know.
Professor Port is an interesting character. I'm not entirely sure I'm sold on Jack's interpretation of the man, but he has survived to a ripe old age as a huntsman, being visibly older than any of the other huntsmen we see. In thinking about him, all we know are a couple of, frankly not particularly impressive, stories about Grimm hunting and that he teaches Grimm Studies. However, for any huntsman, that really ought to be basic knowledge.
It makes me think that maybe he spent the bits of his career that aren't so fun to talk about dealing with people, not Grimm…interesting possibilities there…
I know there's no chairs in the fighting arena, but I choose to ignore that, as leaving students standing for a class seems silly.
Comments/Reviews are always welcome.
