Author Note:
Damn it, I wanted to have this out literally two weeks ago, but I only could ever get enough time to write like 2-3 paragraphs at a time. I hope it was worth the wait; I wanted to take it to (timeline in RWBY-wise) all the way to the end of Season 3 Episode 3, but it was already running long. Hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 2
The downtown area was, predictably, crowded with Hunters and Huntresses, as well as the ones who had come in to see the fights. Cyril struggled to follow Archer as he plowed through the crowd, ogling the sites and the people. This was especially true of the Faunus, as Archer would loudly debate with Cyril about what animal hybrid they were. It caused no shortage of rage-filled looks, and Cyril found himself wishing he had just gone to help Krieger after all.
"Shouldn't we be, I don't know, looking for clues on the terrorism or, uh, the people?" asked Cyril, as a rabbit-eared girl carrying a camera fled from Archer's comments, blushing furiously.
"Duh, Cyril, we gotta get a layout of the area first!" exclaimed Archer, taking a swig from the bottle he was carrying.
"Do they even allow open containers in this town?" asked Cyril.
Archer held up his finger and drained the rest of the liquor. "What's it matter? We've got diplomatic immunity, don't we?! Plus, again, we have our auras! We can do anything!"
He proved his point by shattering the bottle over Cyril's head.
"Ow! Damn it, Archer, that still hurts!" moaned Cyril.
Archer laughed. "That never gets old."
Hours later, after canvassing half of downtown Vale and getting slapped across the face twelve times apiece, Archer and Cyril finally took a break. The sun hung low in the sky, and with the day's fights completed, the streets were packed with revelers. Cyril studied his notes as Archer sipped on a newly-obtained bottle of something from one of the shops in town.
"So, we've got… six abandoned commercial buildings, including the bookstore where the owner was murdered; fourteen abandoned apartments, three damaged homes, and that report of the breach from the underground tracks a few months ago," muttered Cyril. "Lana said she and Ray found over two dozen possible locations in the Warehouse District. Pam and Cheryl didn't learn anything. Not that I'm surprised."
"They are pretty worthless," agreed Archer.
"Your Mother wanted us back by dark. We should get moving," said Cyril standing.
"Right? I'm starving! And now we're off the clock, we can have some actual fun," said Archer.
"Where are you—oh," said Cyril.
Archer was heading for the most crowded club on the road. Cyril looked to the Heavens, shaking his head, before he followed the spy in. They pushed through the crowd of revelers to the bar, where Archer snatched two seats from a blonde haired, monkey-tailed boy and his blue-haired companion. They scanned the room.
"This place seems pretty popular with Faunus," said Cyril.
"This is a whole new level of exotic," said Archer. "You'd think this would be weird cuz of… you know… Furries? But it's really not."
"What'll it be?" asked the bartender. He had antlers.
"Uh… just a water with lemon," said Cyril.
Archer laughed. "Cyril. No. Auras, remember? That's gotta give our liver extra protections. That means we can drink the strongest drinks all night long! What's that cocktail Pam always drinks when we're out?
"… You mean an entire mini-keg of Jager?" asked Cyril.
"Yeah, that! Get me one of those," said Archer. "And get him something fruity."
"… Coming right up," said the bartender, absently scratching his antler.
Cyril sighed. "Let me guess: we're gonna drink ourselves stupid here, and you're gonna find a couple of floozies to go home with, right?"
"That's about the long and short of it, yeah," said Archer. "Besides, we might end up with dangerous, sexy members of the White Fang. And our seductions will lead us into a complicated situation that will reveal some of their plan—"
"That only happens in movies!" complained Cyril. "This isn't James Bond, Archer."
"Psh. Bond's a pussy," said Archer.
The bartender returned with the enormous dispenser for Archer and a blue-and-green layered cocktail for Cyril. The former immediately took a deep pull from one of the dispenser handles, and the latter sipped his drink, brooding over their intel. After a few minutes, Archer giggled, and tapped Cyril on the shoulder.
"Hey. Cyril. Look. Found a pig for you," teased Archer.
"Come on, Archer, that's a horrible thing to say," grumbled Cyril.
"No, seriously," said Archer. "She's literally part pig. Look."
Cyril turned and saw a short, blonde Huntress standing with a group of her friends in the corner. True to Archer's word, she had pig ears, and her nose was rounded like a pig's snout.
"Oh," he said.
"Right?" asked Archer. "Wonder if she's got the spiral tail to match?"
"I don't know, Archer, why don't you go ask her?" asked Cyril, angrily.
"… yeah, you're right," said Archer. He walked into the crowd.
"Wh-! Archer, wait, I was kidding!" exclaimed Cyril, plunging in after him.
The pig-eared Faunus girl slapped Archer. Another with ram horns slapped Archer and Cyril. By the time Archer had kicked most of the keg, hand and claw prints covered their faces, they'd been removed from two bars, and Cyril had come to the realization that, in fact, having an aura did NOT grant him any extra tolerance. He stumbled after Archer, trying desperately to keep up. He didn't know how late it was anymore; the streets were almost empty.
"W-wait up," muttered Cyril, tripping over a discarded bottle. "M-maybe we should go back to the hotel…"
"No way! One more place! Those guys with the red glasses were talking about it… a guy named Junior runs it, and they swore it's the best club in all Vale. We can't miss that!" exclaimed Archer.
Cyril nearly dissolved in tears, falling to his knees in the middle of the street. Archer stopped, snorted with laughter, and knelt down next to him.
"Cyril, buddy, if you really want to call it a night, I'll get you back," said Archer.
"Y-you will?!" slurred Cyril. "Archer, that's—."
Archer stood up and flagged down a passing couple on an orange-and-yellow motorcycle. "Excuse me! Hey! Ladies!"
The bike screeched to a halt next to them. The driver pulled off her yellow helmet and goggles and tossed back her voluminous blonde hair. The girl on the back of the bike did the same, though her helmet was black. Her eyes were amber, and staring very coldly at Archer and Cyril.
"Yo. What's up?" asked the blonde.
Archer looked her up and down, and whistled. "Damn. I love literally everything about this."
"Thanks, creep," said the blonde girl. "Well, you two have a good night."
She put her helmet back on and revved the engine on her bike. Archer stepped in front of her.
"Sorry, sorry! That's not why I flagged you down. See, my acquaintance here has had a few too many, and I need to get him to his hotel," said Archer.
The girls looked at Cyril, who could barely stand without a deathgrip on a trashcan for support.
"And what does that have to do with us?" asked the black-haired girl.
"I was hoping I could convince you to take him. It's not far," said Archer. "I just… have a date, and I can't miss it."
"He looks like he's about to puke. No thanks," said the blonde.
"I'll pay ya. Triple the rate what a cab would take," said Archer, pulling out his wallet. He stared at the money inside of it. "Uh. Mother didn't explain how much was what, so… is this enough?"
He held out ¾ of their money. The two girls looked at each other. The blonde grinned, staring inquisitively. The black-haired girl glared at her, sighed, and shrugged.
"Fine," she said. "But how are we gonna keep him upright?"
"Put him between us," said Yang. "If he starts retching, we're throwing him off."
"Deal," said the girl. "Let's get this over with."
Archer knelt down next to Cyril, whose energy was leaving him. He stared up at Archer, struggling to keep his eyes open. The black-haired girl and Archer each slid an arm under Cyril's own arms, lifting him to a sitting position on the bike.
Archer leaned over and whispered into his ear. "You're welcome."
As Cyril began to black out, he slumped over against the blonde. He vaguely felt her recoil. The black-haired girl settled herself precariously on the back of the bike, trying to hold him upright.
"Do you think this is really gonna work, Yang?" the black girl asked, her voice echoing as Cyril started to lose consciousness.
"Who cares? He gave us enough to cover meals for the rest of the tournament, for us and JNPR…"
The Next Morning…
Cyril woke up in his bed, and his head was spinning so bad he fell out of bed when he tried to climb to it. He barely made it to the bathroom in time. When his stomach was rid of every drop of remaining alcohol, he pulled himself into the shower, where he promptly passed out again. He awoke a second time to someone shaking him.
"Cyril. Hey, Cyril. How you doin' buddy? You okay?"
"Pam? Is that you?" asked Cyril, groggily. He shook his head, realized he was still half in the shower, and grabbed for a towel. "Jeezy-Pete's, Pam! I'm naked!"
"No shit?" she asked. "Never would have guessed."
Cyril chased her out of the bathroom, dried off, and dug out a new pair of clothes from his suitcase. His head still pulsed with pain on every step. Worse, he couldn't find his glasses, and the blurry vision certainly wasn't helping the hangover. He tore his room apart for another hour, finding everything but the glasses. There was an impatient knock on the door.
"Cyril, are you trying to make Malory angry? We're due downstairs for a briefing in ten minutes," came Lana's voice.
"I can't find my glasses! Have you seen them?" asked Cyril.
"Nnnnnnnnope! Maybe you should have asked those two tricks who dropped you off last night," suggested Lana, stalking away.
"I… wait, what?" asked Cyril, stumbling after her.
He followed Lana half-blind down the hallway and stairs, to a special meeting room set-up for use by ISIS only. From the blurred outlines of their bodies and faces, Cyril could tell everyone was already assembled… except Archer and Krieger.
"My God, Cyril, you look terrible," complained Malory.
"I feel even worse," said Archer. "Does anyone have some painkillers?"
"Well, I DID, until Miss Pillsbury over here decided to eat all of them," said Ray. He was probably glaring at Cheryl, although Cyril couldn't be sure.
"UGH," groaned Cheryl. "I told you it wasn't me. Krieger probably did it."
"Why would Krieger want to steal Tylenol? Doesn't he have much stronger stuff in his own arsenal?" asked Pam.
"And, speaking of, where is he?" asked Lana.
"He'll be along. He was very excitable this morning. Said he had something big to show us," said Malory, drinking down her coffee. "I'm besides myself with excitement."
The sarcasm was so thick, it actually felt like it was stabbing Cyril in the ears. He held his head in his hands, trying to think back to the night previous. Everything after the second bar was blurry, and everything after the motorcycle girls was lost. He may have dozed off again on the table, but was rudely awakened when someone slammed into it.
"I come bearing GIFTS!" declared Krieger, beaming at the group, and holding an assortment of boxes under his arms.
He slammed them down on the table. Cheryl clapped her hands with glee and jumped up to start pawing at the boxes, but the others were a little more hesitant. Cyril could think of many of Krieger's previous "gifts" and how very little of them ever actually turned out well for everyone.
"What kind of gifts?" asked Lana.
"Weapons!" exclaimed Krieger. "I've been up all night working on them, and I think I've perfect them!"
"Gimme, gimme, gimme!" exclaimed Cheryl, ripping open the boxes. She picked a longer, fat one up. "This one's mine, right?!"
"Yep! Just as you requested: a guitar!" said Krieger, beaming.
"WOOO Outlaw Country Lives!" screamed Cheryl, tearing at the wrapping.
Ray cleared his throat. "Um. Okay. Not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but is a guitar really that much of a weapon?"
"Hm, I don't know Ray… Cheryl, why don't you give him a taste?" said Krieger, sweetly.
"AW YEAH!" screeched Cheryl.
She slam-strummed the strings of the guitar, and the resulting pulse of energy shot out of the end of the instrument. It knocked Ray clean over, slammed Pam's head around, tipped over a table, and broke the pane out of one of the windows. Cheryl cackled maniacally.
"Okay… I lie corrected," squeaked Ray. "Can someone get this table off my chest?"
"Weaponized instruments are all the rage in the country of Atlas here," said Krieger. "The strings can be infused with Dust! This gives them different properties. Try it out!"
"OUTside," hollered Malory. "I won't have you getting us kicked out of the only passable hostel in this God-forsaken town."
Cheryl ran cheering from the room, nearly bowling over a bellboy carrying room service.
"The sixth string is the Taser you asked for!" Krieger yelled after her.
Soon, the sounds of strumming, screaming, shocking, and exploding echoed from outside. Undaunted, Krieger went through the other weapons in the mini-arsenal he'd created: a shotgun/pitchfork combination for Pam, gun attachments for Ray's robotic legs, and a few other ideas he'd had that didn't work out.
"But!" exclaimed Krieger. "One of my crowing achievements is… this!"
He pulled out a pair of glasses, and, even in his blurred vision, Cyril could tell immediately that they were his.
"What the Hell, Krieger?! Did you steal my glasses?!" asked Cyril, snatching them back.
"Borrowed," pointed out Krieger. "I've weaponized them! Clothing-based weaponry is some of the greatest achievements of the other kingdoms."
"How do they work?" asked Cyril.
"Try them on! There are little attachments on the side that recognize your thought patterns, and activate the Dust contained within," said Krieger.
"Um… okay?" said Cyril, putting them on.
"Now close your eyes and think 'boom'," said Krieger.
Cyril took a deep breath, gulped, and did as he was told. A flash of red formed in front of his face, and then the Dust triggered another explosion. Cyril flew backwards over the table, crashing down next to Malory. His head practically splitting open with pain, Cyril could only weep quietly at their feet. Krieger scribbled something down on a notepad.
"Calibration… still… near-sighted…" he muttered.
"So, Krieger. These weapons? I notice none of them are for me. Why is that?" asked Lana.
"Oh! I actually had something here for you as well," said Krieger. He opened another box and pulled out Lana's TEC-9's and the holster she wore. "Right here, see—."
"KRIEGER!" snarled Lana, grabbing him by the shoulder. "WHAT did I tell you about MODIFYING my GUNS?! Did you FORGET about Belarus?!"
Krieger squealed pain. "N-no, I didn't! I didn't touch them! I just modified the ammo! You d-didn't forbid that!"
Lana released him. "Fair point. Fine. What do you have?"
"I-it's pretty basic," said Krieger, wincing as he rubbed his shoulder. "Left one has ice bullets, right one has explody-firey ones. Though… maybe I should have made you a glove, or claws…"
Lana shoved one of the guns up under his chin. "Keep it up, and I'll use you for target practice like Archer did to Cyril yesterday."
"Speaking of, where is Cassanova today?" asked Ray.
Malory chugged everything out of her cup. "How should I know? I'm sure he'll wake up in some… brothel somewhere, covered in floozies, with a bottle waiting for him on his bedside table."
Somewhere Across Town…
When Archer awoke, he had a dark-skinned, literal half-foxy woman on his left, and a blonde human 20-something on the other. After giving himself a few moments to mentally enjoy the third-strangest thing he'd ever woken up to, he pulled himself out from under their arms, threw on his clothes from the night before, grabbed what was left of the booze on the nightstand, and left the small motel room.
The motel was situated on the boardwalk area overlooking the harbor of Vale. It was nearly deserted; the citizens and tourists were mostly up watching the day's matches. Judging from the sun's position in the sky, it was getting to be late afternoon, going on early evening. In other words: perfect time for a drink. Archer set off down the street, scanning for a place to get a cocktail or six. Most of the bars he passed were closed… except for one small place close to the path that lead to Beacon.
"Crow… Bar. Hah. Hahaha," Archer giggled. "The pun alone warrants at least one drink."
Like everywhere else, the bar was mostly deserted. It had only a dozen stools, and standing room for three times that number. The bartender was a friendly sort, sporting a green bowtie and well-maintained moustache. The only other patron was hunched over his glass, and gave Archer a quick glance when he entered the bar.
"Welcome to Crow Bar!" exclaimed the Bar Tender. "What'll it be?"
"Ehhhhh… surprise me," said Archer, dropping into the bar seat next to the other guy at the bar. "This place is deserted."
"Yup. Everyone's up watching the day's matches," said the bartender. "There's a few really good battles so far, and more to come!"
The other patron snorted. "If you think those are 'really good,' you need your standards examined."
"W-well, for Hunters and Huntresses in training— "
"Glorifying training fighters is a good way to give them an ego. That'll get 'em killed," said the other guy.
Archer laughed. "I like this guy. He gets it."
The bartender handed Archer his glass, and he held it up to his fellow patron. After a brief pause, the man gently clinked his glass to Archer's, and they both took a deep swallow. A T.V. in the corner was covering the day's matches. Team JNPR was about to take on Team BRNZ.
"What's your name, friend?" asked the bartender.
"Archer. Sterling Archer. In town on business," said Archer. He drained his cup. "Keep 'em coming."
"Y-yes, of course," said the bartender.
The other man glanced at Archer and sized him up. Archer watched him from the corner of his eye. He couldn't remember ever seeing a man with red eyes before, but the man didn't appear to be a Faunus, either. His black hair was messy, and his eyes already held the glaze of a man several sheets to the wind.
"So. You're the famous Sterling Archer," said the other man.
"Uh… yeah?" said Archer. He hadn't expected anyone in Remnant to know of him. "Who are you?"
"Qrow. That'll do for now," said the man, finishing another drink himself.
"Crow? That's… wait, so are you part crow, or…?"
The man chuckled. "Technically, no. Let's watch this shit show of a battle, eh?"
"… All right, why not?"
Archer watched as the battle began. The sniper took up a quick position in the tree line, and it threw the other team for a complete loop. They immediately called a retreat (which looked completely unorganized), and hid behind some rocks while the enemy advanced on them.
"They're screwed," said Archer.
One drink later, after watching the dude with the pink streak in his hair get wrecked, the hammer-wielding girl raged-out and went after the guy who'd attacked her friend. He hit her with some sort of nightstick-Taser combination thing, but Archer saw her little health bar wasn't depleting like the boy's hand.
"Oh-ho! Looks like one of my favorite students is charging up to use her semblance," said one of the announcers.
"Semblance? The hell is that?" asked Archer.
Qrow stared at him, half surprised, half amused. "Really? Ozpin didn't tell you?"
"No? I mean, he showed us auras, and I tested it out with my gun, but is that… the same?" asked Archer.
"A semblance is… I guess you could call it your unique power, since everyone's got a different one," said Qrow. "It's something special that only you can do. It's connected to your aura, yeah, but it makes you stronger."
"Oh. So crazy chick can channel electricity," said Archer, as he watched the hammer girl literally slam her opponent through a rock. "Wonder what mine is."
"Strange that you never heard of semblance before, buddy. May I ask where you're from?" asked the bartender.
"Hey! I'm not paying you to chat, I'm paying you to make me drinks," said Archer, draining his drink for good measure.
"Sorry, sorry!"
Qrow smirked at Archer, and followed suit. Three drinks apiece later, they stared in slight confusion as the two teams appeared to simply stop fighting. Then, hammer girl abruptly flung herself into the air, crushed the entire opposing team, and sent them crashing headlong into the invisible barrier at the edge of the arena. Archer cackled madly at the sight. Qrow stared at the screen, a mix of boredom and derision on his face.
"Huh. Those kids weren't half-bad," said the bar tender.
Qrow grunted in response. Archer shrugged.
"The redhead and the hammer chick were pretty good. The rest of them… eh," said Archer, shrugging.
As the next battle was readied, Archer was surprised to see two familiar faces. The golden-haired monkey boy and the tall blue-haired one from the bar were joined by two other guys (one tall, dark, and muscular, one short, pale, and Ray-like). Their opponents were four gorgeous girls from some other country, or whatever. Archer didn't care.
"Now this is a battle worth watching," said Archer.
"I think they're only 16," muttered the bartender.
"And? What's the age of consent in this country anyway? 14? 15?" asked Archer. "We talkin' like… Georgia, Alabama, West Virginia here…?"
Qrow shrugged at him, and returned to brooding over the screen. Six drinks later, Archer was in a shouting match with the TV over fouls and rules and terrible camera angles and missed potential for most of the fight. When the red-haired man got hit by the coconuts, though, Archer actually recoiled.
"Well, good thing he never would have wanted kids," said Archer.
"That's… not very nice," said the bartender.
"And these aren't very strong, but you don't hear me complaining," said Archer, shaking his empty glass at the man.
The girls gained the upper hand, or so it seemed. Archer almost laughed himself sick when he realized the blue-haired boy (named Neptune, of all things) was afraid of water. Even Qrow had to let out a couple chuckles on that. The bartender seemed bothered by the whole thing.
"It's not nice to make fun of people's fears, you know," he said.
"And it's not nice… for you… to… uh… damn it, I had something for this," said Archer, as he added his newest empty glass to the leaning tower he and Qrow had managed to amass between themselves.
The match finally ended on an electrical shock that took out three of the other girls in one electrified hit. Qrow emptied another glass and shook the ice around it. Archer finally felt his head begin to swim, and the evening was growing later. He checked his phone, realized it had been on silent all day, and saw that he had 12 missed calls and 45 texts. He deleted them all without even reading them. As the announcers recapped the battle, the bartender whistled.
"Now that was a match," he said.
Qrow chuckled darkly. "That was a mess."
"Agreed," said Archer.
"C'mon man, you didn't like them, the Vale kids, or any of the rounds before that?! What fight are you here for?!" exclaimed the bartender, finally losing his patience.
Archer opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of engines stopped him. He and Qrow turned to the entrance of the small bar. Overlooking the bay, they were able to see the approaching ship. It was much more elaborate than the flying ship Archer and the other ISIS members had ridden in on, and the streamers trailing from each of its wings gave it a particularly gaudy appearance. Qrow's eyes narrowed.
"That one," he said, stumbling to his feet and draining his final drink. "Wooh… heh. Happy Vytal Festival."
He dropped his money on the bar next to his empty glass and stumbled away in a haze. Archer stared after him, and then looked back at the bar tender. He dug into his wallet, pulled out all the currency he had left, and slammed it on the bar. He stood, realizing how drunk he was, and chased after Qrow. Behind him, the tower of glasses swayed and fell to the ground with a shatter.
"Aw… G-Darn it," he heard the bartender complain as he left.
"Qrow!" Archer called. "Wait up!"
"Hmm? Oh, right, right… you," said Qrow. "Sorry. Guess you're going my way too, huh?"
"Yeah. Mother and the others are probably wondering where I am," said Archer. "Gotta get our mission briefing on."
"Heh. Hope you're ready for a doozy," said Qrow.
"Yeah. So, uh, what's going on with that big ship that just flew by?" asked Archer.
"An old friend," said Qrow. "I've been dying to see her."
"Oh. Cool. She part of our team, or…?" asked Archer.
"Who, that Ice Queen? Huh. Nowadays, I wonder," muttered Qrow. "Atlas and General Ironwood have been… pretty sketchy lately."
"Ironwood… Ironwood…" muttered Archer. "Hm. Feel like I should know something about him."
"Just you wait. You're gonna… hic… you're gonna be amazed," said Qrow, walking ahead.
Archer followed him all the way to the gates of Beacon. The gaudy ship was parked in the harbor with the rest of the transport ships, though its immense size meant it took over three spots on its own. A large group of onlookers, freshly returned from the Colosseum, walked along the paths. Suddenly, Qrow stopped.
"There," he said, his voice icy.
Archer followed his gaze. In the distance, two white-haired girls walked along the path, flanked by six mechanical-looking guards. They were either drones or androids, but either way, they made Archer uncomfortable. And, apparently, they made Qrow angry.
"Who are they—?" Archer began to ask.
Before he could finish, Qrow had hurtled himself down the path, disabled one of the bots, ripped the head off the other, and chucked it towards the other robots and the girls. Gasps of shock went up from around the onlookers that were actually paying attention.
"Hey! Yeah, I'm talking to you, Ice Queen!" yelled Qrow.
The girls and the other robots turned to look at them. Archer's eyes immediately went to the taller one. She was in a crisp, pressed uniform, and her rigid stance told Archer that she was military. Her icy stare to Qrow and Archer made him both uncomfortable, and if he was being honest, somewhat aroused.
"Halt!" commanded the girl.
"Hey, uh, Qrow? Who is she? And how did you disable that robot?" asked Archer.
Qrow shrugged Archer off, ignoring his questions entirely. The shorter of the two girls stomped indignantly towards the men. Her hands were balled into tiny fists, and her own glare was far less terrifying than the taller one.
"Excuse me! Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" she hissed.
Qrow drunkenly pushed her away by the forehead. "Sssshhhhhh, not you."
"Hey!" the girl snapped. Archer chuckled.
"You," said Qrow, stepping forward.
Archer glanced around through the crowd. Qrow and the tall, white-haired chick were given a wide berth by the rest of the onlookers. Whispers and low voices surrounded them. In the crowd, Archer saw some of his ISIS coworkers.
"Lana! Hey! Lana!" Archer yelled, hurrying down the path.
With the tension between Qrow and the tall girl, few people paid him any mind. Lana, Ray, Cyril, Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger stared at Archer as he pushed through the crowd to get to them. Lana rolled her eyes.
"And, of course, Archer shows up when the briefings and planning are done. Finally get rid of your floozies from last night?" she asked.
"You guys gotta meet my friend Qrow!" exclaimed Archer, ignoring her sass.
"Is he the one that just ripped apart those robots?" asked Pam.
"Yeah!"
"He's a monster," muttered Krieger, his hand clutched to his throat.
"No, he's awesome! Plus, he knows that Oz dude!" exclaimed Archer.
"Wait, what? How?!" exclaimed Ray.
"Dunno, but he's a boss," said Archer.
Behind them, the white-haired girl and Qrow continued to snark at each other.
"You realize you just destroyed Atlas military property?" the girl said.
"Ohhh, I'm sorry!" replied Qrow. "See, I mistook this from sort of… sentient garbage."
Archer burst into laughter. Only Cheryl joined him, and mostly because of the amount of glue she'd ingested. Krieger actually let out a sob, and buried his face into Ray's shoulder. Lana stared at Archer.
"That's not funny," she said. "The Atlas military are part of our support system here, Archer! This 'Qrow' could be working for our enemy for all we know. How much did you tell him?"
"Nothing! We just were drinking at the same bar, and watched those kids fight from earlier," said Archer. "Calm down, Lana."
"She's right, though," said Cyril. "Ozpin called Atlas here, same as us! We should help her."
"She's got four robot guardians. I think she'll be fine, Cyril," said Pam.
Archer ignored the group and pushed back toward the front of the crowd to listen to Qrow and the tall woman.
"I'm not sure what you think you're implying, but I've heard enough," said the tall woman. Her voice was as chilling as her glare. A shiver ran down Archer's spine.
"Oh, I heard, too!" countered Qrow. "I heard ol' Ironwood finally turned his back on Ozpin."
"Ozpin?" asked the shorter girl.
"Weiss, it's time for you to go," said the taller girl.
"What?"
"Listen to big sister, Weiss," said Qrow. "She'll protect you. Just like Atlas is gonna protect all of us, huh?"
"If you won't hold your tongue, then I will gladly remove it for you!" hissed the tall girl, pulling out her sword.
More gasps from the crowd. Lana, Cyril, Pam, and Cheryl pushed their way through the crowd, too. Archer let out a "WOOP!" for Qrow.
"All right then," said Qrow. He pushed his bangs out of his face and stood straighter up. "Come take it."
The tall girl dove at him quicker than Archer could have even seen. Qrow dodged every single one of her furious slashes and sword thrusts, until the final one, which he parried with his own, oversized sword. His counter-attacks were dodged by the white-haired woman's repeated backflips and parries.
"C'mon, Qrow, show her whose boss!" yelled Archer.
"Woo! Kill her!" said Cheryl.
"Oh my God. Stop. We shouldn't be getting involved," fretted Cyril.
The shorter one, Weiss, was standing next to Archer when another girl in a red cloak shoved through the ISIS agents to talk to her.
"What's going on?!" she squealed.
"Some crazy guy just started attacking my sister!" yelled Weiss.
"Oh no! Who would do such a th—AAAH! It's my Uncle!" yelled the red-cloaked girl.
"What?!" exclaimed Archer and Weiss at the same time.
"Kick her butt, Uncle Qrow!" cheered Red Cloak.
"Uhh, teach him respect, Winter!" Weiss stammered.
Their battle grew even more ferocious, with their blades moving almost faster than Archer's eyes could see. The crowd cheered and gasped, but it was the ISIS group who led the loudest shouts and cheers.
"Get her, Qrow! You got this!" Archer screamed.
"Yeah, knock her out!" added Pam.
"DESTROY THAT BITCH!" shrieked Cheryl.
"Excuse me!" yelled Weiss, turning to glare at them. "That's my sister you're talking about!"
Pam and Cheryl glanced at each other, then looked back down at Weiss.
"Oops. Awkward," muttered Pam.
"HEY! KILL HER NEXT!" roared Cheryl, pointing at Weiss. "EXTINGUISH THE WHOLE LINE!"
"W-what?!" gasped Weiss.
"That's it. We're leaving," said Lana. "Cyril, help me grab her."
"Let me go!" yelled Cheryl, struggling against their grip.
"Calm down, spaz, before you get us blacklisted from another country," said Ray.
"Come on, Archer," hissed Lana.
"Hang on, I wanna make sure Qrow beats her," said Archer.
They didn't have to wait long. Qrow landed a series of blows so powerful that it pushed them out of the ring of students watching the fight. The girl, apparently named Winter, got a strong hit in on Qrow's jaw with the handle of her sword. His head snapped back around, and for a moment, a flash went through his eye.
"Uh oh," said Archer, taking a few steps back.
Qrow brought his sword in a wide arc around his head, hoisting it high above. Winter conjured some sort of spinning rune, and jumped out of the way just as Qrow's blade dug into the ground. The resulting explosion sent chunks of stone and earth flying in every direction. Large pieces slammed into Cyril, Pam, Cheryl, and Krieger.
"Son of a bitch!" screamed Pam.
"OW! Jesus!" snarled Cheryl.
"Ugh! Th-that power!" exclaimed Krieger. "How did he—?"
"Probably his semblance! Move!" Lana yelled, dragging them out of the way of the next assault.
Winter landed on the grass next to the path, but Qrow's frenzy wasn't over. He dove after her, and his clean-cut attack severed a light pole directly in half. The heavy, iron structure fell down, clipping Ray and knocking Cyril to the ground. Archer doubled over in laughter as the others dragged him out from under it.
"Why is it always me?" whimpered Cyril, holding his shoulder.
"Suck less, then!" Archer called, running after Qrow and Winter.
The last he saw of them, Winter was literally running up the side of a wall, Qrow was taking pot shots at her, and then he leaped literally several stories into the air to give chase to her over the walls. Archer stopped, doubled over and winded. He knew there was no way he could keep up.
"Oh, for Pete's sake, what have you all done now?" came a familiar moan.
Malory had arrived, a drink in one hand and a shaker in the other. She surveyed her employees, noting the enormous hole in the ground that surrounded all of them. She shook her head, popped the top off the shaker, and topped off her cocktail, draining the entire thing. She threw the glass on the ground.
"This wasn't us, Mother," Archer said. "It was my new friend, Qrow, and some crazy bitch named Winter."
"Crow and Winter? Are you drunk again?" asked Malory.
"Well, uh, actually… yes," said Archer. "But that has nothing to do with it!"
"He's telling the truth for once, Mrs. Archer," said Pam. "Ask anyone here!"
"I suppose you're going to tell me some big bird and a literal season did this?" Malory asked, swirling on her heel to glare at Pam. "Don't get lippy with me, Missy!"
"Mother, are you drunk?" asked Archer.
"I'll ask the questions around here!" hissed Malory.
WHAM! The ground exploded around them, and debris from a nearby walkway hit the ground in a deadly hail. Students dove and ran for cover, and Malory could only gape at the two sword fighters as they danced their deadly, sword-swinging dance across the pathway. Archer gave his mother a smug look, while the latter drained the dregs from her shaker, before discarding that as well.
"Well, on the plus side, the mass destruction of property isn't our fault for once," said Cyril.
"Always looking on the bright si—are those birds?" asked Malory.
Winter had another one of those spinning circle things below her, and a swarm of tiny, bird-like things were surrounding and attacking Qrow. For the first time, Archer felt like his new friend was at a disadvantage. He made to run after him, but an angry voice behind him stopped him.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
An older, graying man with an even crisper uniform than Winter's stood before them. A short, ginger-haired girl with a pink bow in her hair followed him, smiling blankly at the others. Malory immediately turned on the charm, and sauntered up next to him, a flirty smile on her face.
"So good of you to join us, General Ironwood," said Malory. "It appears that one of your associates has been attacked by a man—"
"What?! No, Mother, she attacked him first!" yelled Archer.
"Oh, whatever, the point is, the damage was caused by them, and not ISIS," said Malory.
"Unbelievable. I'll put a stop to this," said Ironwood, striding away.
Archer looked past him to where Qrow stood, readying his weapon for some other attack. Winter had conjured up one of her spinning circles, but this one stood vertical, against her back. Archer whistled and waved at Qrow. Qrow saw this, cocked his head to the side, and sheathed his weapon. Then, he taunted the girl, offering up his cheek as a target. Enraged, Winter shot across the space between her and Qrow, going for the killing strike.
"SCHNEE!" yelled the general.
Winter froze, turned, and immediately stood at attention. "General Ironwood, Sir!"
"What in the world do you think you're doing?" asked Ironwood.
"He started the altercation, sir," said the panicked Winter.
"Bullshit!" yelled Archer. "We all saw you!"
"Yeah, you're in for it now!" exclaimed Cheryl.
Qrow didn't need their help. "That's actually not true; she attacked first."
Ironwood stared at her. "Is that right?"
Defeated, Winter held her head in shame, and her shoulders slumped. Ironwood surveyed the damaged to his robots, the courtyard, the looks on the students faces, and the ISIS agents. Archer lurched by all of them to stand next to Qrow.
"That was amazing! You gotta show me you did that," said Archer. He turned back to his fellow ISIS agents. "Didn't I tell you? Total badass!"
Qrow smirked at Archer, but then Ironwood move his glare from Winter to Qrow.
"And you," he said, stepping close to Qrow and bringing his voice down. "What are you doing here?"
"I could be asking you the same thing," counter Qrow, his voice as loud as normal.
"I—"
"Now, now, everyone" came Ozpin's voice from behind the crowd.
He and Glynda had arrived. Although he kept a smile on his face, Archer could sense Ozpin's anger. Glynda made no attempt to hid her disdain or frustration with the scene in front of her.
"There is a sanctioned fight happening just around the corner at the colosseum that I can assure you has better seats. And popcorn," said the Headmaster.
"Wait, I thought they said the matches were done for the day?" Archer asked Qrow. Qrow shrugged.
"Break it up, everyone!" commanded Glynda. "We will take care of this mess."
"Let's go," said Ironwood, leading Winter away.
The crowd finally began to disperse. The ISIS agents joined Archer and Qrow at the center of the courtyard, except for Malory who went after Ironwood and Winter. The small, ginger girl from before turned and waved at someone by them.
"She's beautiful," said Krieger, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Uncle Qrow!" squealed the Red Hood girl, flying out of nowhere to dangle on his arm. "Hi. It's so good to see you! Did you miss me? DID YOU MISS ME?!"
Qrow smirked at her. "Nope."
"Qrow. Archer. A word, please," said Ozpin.
Glynda began to repair the damage to the courtyard, pulling all the shattered stones and rocks back from where they landed to their original position (at least two clipped Cyril on their way back in).
"I think we're in trouble," Qrow whispered loudly to his niece.
"You did kinda tear up our courtyard," she said, shrugging.
"Yeah, I did," he said. "Catch ya later, kid."
"Ah, man, I guess we're all in trouble anyway," said Pam.
The ISIS agents followed Ozpin and Glynda back to the entrance of the school. Malory was waiting for them, as Glynda returned her shattered beverage glass to her hand. She pulled out another shaker from her purse, and poured herself another drink.
"Where's Ironwood?" asked Archer.
"Went upstairs. Told me to wait while he talked with his hot-headed subordinate," said Malory.
"Oops. Dumped before the first date," said Ray. "Bet that smarts."
"Can it, Liberace," said Malory.
They entered the foyer and moved to the elevator. The doors slid open, and Archer followed his mother, Ray, Lana, Ozpin, Qrow, and Glynda in. When the others tried to enter, Malory blocked the door and cleared her throat.
"And where do you think you four are going?" Malory asked Krieger, Pam, Cheryl, and Cyril.
"Um, it's this new thing called, an 'elevator'?" snarked Cheryl.
"I'm terribly sorry, but this meeting is absolutely classified," said Ozpin.
"Only those with a 'need-to-know' may be permitted," added Glynda.
"Aw, we wanna come," said Pam. "We promise not to say anything."
"Field agents only. Womp womp," said Ray, as the door slid closed.
"Damn it!" sword Pam. "Now what do we do for two hours?"
"Actually, Cheryl and I have an idea. I just need you two to break into the girls' locker rooms and retrieve something for me," said Krieger.
"There are so many things wrong with that sentence," said Cyril.
"Don't worry, Cyril, we made sure you were included, too," said Cheryl, throwing her arms around him. "Come on, we're gonna be late if we don't get moving!"
"Where we going?" asked Pam.
"Let's just say… I worked some of my magic to get us some front row seats to the competition," said Krieger, tapping his fingers together in a very sinister fashion.