I think that, from now on, /-/ will be my symbol to signalize a short timeskip without a change in perspective. Got it? Then please enjoy reading.
Sun was high on the firmament , illuminating Mountain Glenn with its bright light. Somehow, despite the clear sky and the approaching noon, it felt as if there were grey clouds hovering over the ruined city. Or at least if felt this way to Jaune, as he performed his routine walk around the encampment.
It was sort of ironic that a monument to one of Vale's greatest failures and a former base for the White Fang now served as a refuge for the few people willing to fight the despotic organization. It made sense though - the place was so infested with Grimm that carrying out any sort of major offensive was next to impossible. Sure, the Grimm themselves caused some problems, but inside the barricades the rebels enjoyed what could be called relative safety. And Jaune had to make sure that nothing was about to disrupt said safety.
For the most part, the things were normal, or as normal as anything could be in those screwed up times. Some people were training, others were keeping watch over their designated areas and those who were assigned no specific tasks were just trying to kill time, either through playing card games or hunting for creeps in the ruins. Jaune felt tempted to join the latter group, but he knew that he would be unable to relax anyway, with so many people depending on him and with his teammates away on their missions.
And besides, it wasn't like he was doing incredibly strenuous right now. In fact, those 'inspections' were generally his favorite part of the day. They really came down to walking around as his men saluted to him and occasionally asking somebody if everything was in order.
And it usually was. For such a ragtag group of individuals, the Resistance worked relatively well. Quarrels were uncommon, the goals and leadership were well-agreed on and there was a great deal of mutual trust between members of the group. It was a little strange, really. Some would attribute it to Jaune's organizational skills or charisma, but he knew better than that.
Because really, organizational skills? Jaune wasn't able to keep his room tidy when he was a kid and he barely managed to coordinate four-person team back at Beacon. Charisma? Well he has gotten fairly good at pretending he knew what he was doing, so maybe he could be considered charismatic.
But no, the relative success of the Valean Resistance Front, not having been obliterated already that is, could be attributed only to the abilities of its other members. Whether they were former soldiers, huntsmen candidates or just people willing and able to pick up a weapon and fight, the people here were all survivors. They were all capable and dedicated to restoring the world that once was, however impossible it might have seemed.
"Hey, leave me alone!" An angry, high-pitched voice could be heard from behind a nearby building.
Well, it wasn't all perfect. Already knowing what to expect, Jaune headed towards the source of the noise, preparing himself to play the role of a fair disciplinarian.
Sure enough, after making a turn, he was met with the sight of two of his men - well, one man and one woman - at each other's throats. Russel Thrush with his daggers in hands and Velvet Scarlatina with bare fists. Although given the context, it wasn't hard to guess who was the aggressor here. Upon seeing Jaune approach both of them turned their attention towards him and raised one hand each in salute.
"Is there some problem?" Jaune asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice deep and unflinching.
"General." Russel stepped forwards, but not enough to expose his back to Velvet, as if he was afraid she would attack him. "I believe Private Scarlatina is plotting against us. I spotted her taking photos of our enforcements for seemingly no reason."
"What!?" Velvet yelled exasperatedly, but she quickly composed herself. "I have been cataloguing the species of Grimm around the base. It is important for us to know what kinds are we dealing with, so that we can place correct people at correct positions."
"That's a decent excuse, I'll give you that."
"Sergeant Thrush," Jaune hoped that he remembered the rank he gave Russel properly. "I have already heard your opinions regarding Private Scarlatina and while I appreciate your input, I do not share your concerns. She has, repeatedly, proven herself dependent and loyal to our cause."
"But isn't there still a risk?" Russel held his ground "She could be just that good of a spy, or considering betraying us right now..."
"So could anyone, in theory." Jaune retorted "The White Fang, for all their prejudice, takes help from faunus and humans alike. Let's not be worse than them."
"Yes sir." Jaune could tell that Russel definitely wasn't convinced, but apparently he thought it wiser to concede. He put both of his daggers into their sheathes, paying Velvet a quick glance as he did so. Perhaps he really was afraid that she would backstab them for no reason and wasn't just harassing her for the sake of it. It was hard to tell.
"It's good to be on the same page. You are dismissed." Jaune watched Russel salute again and march away towards the central camp. Afterwards, he turned his attention towards the rabbit faunus.
"Are you alright, Velvet?" He asked, not bothering to keep the formalities now that they were alone. Really, all those titles were meaningless. If they represented actual ranks, he would have made Velvet one of his top officers by now instead of keeping her as a 'private' as he did now, as to not upset the likes of Russel. The girl was with them almost since very beginning of the war and has shown nothing but loyalty thus far.
"Worried about me, general?" The faunus replied jokingly, not addressing the actual question. She probably expected Jaune to tell her not to call him by his title, but he remained focused on the topic at hand.
"Not really. I know you could beat this guy up, even without going all out. And with him acting like that, you would have a damn good excuse for doing so."
"It would just convince him that he is right about me being some sort of traitor and it could even convince some of the others. Not really worth it in the end." Jaune had to reluctantly acknowledge the logic behind that. "Besides, I can't really blame him for..."
For hating the faunus. That also, sadly, made a great deal of sense. While Russel had been a racist even before the war and he was more open with his views than most resistance members, he was by no means the only person around who detested the faunus. He wasn't even in the minority. Most of Jaune's men hated the faunus and the general didn't even try to change that trend. Hatred kept many people going and often helped to deal with other, even more destructive emotions, such as grief and despair. It would have been better if they hated the White Fang specifically rather than all the faunus, but the distinction often seemed blurry even to him.
"Still," Jaune spoke after a long moment of silence "If I were you I would get myself some secondary weapon. If not to fight with, then to scare the likes of Russel away. I know you can fight unarmed, but you don't look very scary without a weapon." He allowed himself a small, teasing smile.
"I suppose not." Velvet reciprocated the smile. "And I got myself a backup weapon a while ago, I just didn't think to carry it with me for tasks like that."
"You really should have." Jaune switched his voice back to firm tone. "I know you can handle whatever Grimm come your way, but there really is no way to know when you'll have to fight for real or... use an emergency route."
Velvet winced, but didn't comment on Jaune's advice. "Yes, sir. I will keep that in mind. Is there anything else?"
"No. You are dismissed." General watched the girl salute to him, turn around and go her own way. He mused over how weird it was that he was giving advice to somebody who had way more combat experience than him. Giving orders to Velvet, or Russel, or anyone else for that matter felt weird considering that he was technically one of the least experienced people here.
But then again, it was Jaune, not Velvet, who had to create and analyze strategies. He rarely got to see their effects with his own eyes, but he saw the reports and he often didn't get to see some of his soldiers returning from the mission. Constant stress and guilt made wonders for his tactical abilities, as he had to consider his every decision from every possible point of view. Overlooking a viable strategy or a probable scenario could have tragic consequences.
The whole deal with secondary weapons was a perfect example. For some reason, nearly all huntsmen and huntresses used only one weapon and prided themselves on how it had multiple forms and could be used in different ways. The thing was, having a single mecha-shift weapon was in almost every way worse than having multiple different, simpler ones. If a soldier lost his gun, they usually had a pistol to shoot from or at least a military knife to protect themselves. If a huntsman lost his amazing gun-sword, they were essentially defenseless. Creating a weapon with multiple forms didn't give you much of an advantage... especially if you were a complete idiot and one of those forms was a freaking handbag.
No. He shouldn't demean Coco this way, not even in his private thoughts. She killed countless enemies and saved just as many people during the Invasion of Vale alone, but her demise was just so... preventable.
It was a little over half a year into the war and the White Fang was attempting - and not without success - to crush the city of Vale with their sheer numbers. Jaune wasn't anything more than a team leader at that point and his team was simply trying to take down as many White Fang recruits as they could without getting killed themselves, which wasn't easy even with Pyrrha on their side. Coco was doing significantly better, mowing the enemies by dozens with her Gatling Gun... until she ran out of bullets and found herself surrounded, without a working weapon and with the enemy's attention solely on her. She did try to defend herself with her handbag and some kicks, but, surrounded and outnumbered the huntress didn't stand much of a chance.
While back then it seemed like the faunus just killed Coco in the spot, it would later turn out that she actually survived despite her wounds and was imprisoned by the enemy. Her execution took place after the Vale was subjugated and was performed by Miss Neopolitan herself. The huntress was only allowed to die after a gruesome display that lasted several hours straight. An act of vengeance and terror at once.
The purpose of secondary weapons was to prevent situations like that from taking place, partially by giving everyone a chance to keep on fighting after losing their main weapon, but also by providing them with a 'emergency route' once the situation became truly hopeless. A quick death by one's own hands was commonly considered better than torture and execution at the hands of the White Fang. They didn't have any cyanide pills or anything like that - and if they had, Jaune wouldn't allow it because of how catastrophic that would be to morale - but a simple dagger hidden in a sleeve was completely sufficient for that purpose.
Really, Velvet should be aware how important having a backup was better than anyone. Perhaps she just didn't think about it, because of the connotations the topic brought.
Jaune did think about it. Right now he had a double-barrel shotgun at his waist and a knife hidden in his boot. Crocea Mors was still there, obviously, an ancient blade always ready to be drawn.
Luckily, there was no reason to draw it that day. The rest of the encampment really was calm, all the noise coming from guns and Flynt's trumpet notwithstanding. After checking everything twice, Jaune headed towards the infirmary and braced himself for the next part of his daily routine.
/-/
Jaune was exhausted. And not just because he has given away most of his aura, leaving just enough to defend himself just in case. It was mostly a mental exhaustion, a direct result of having to deal with so many wounded people. One would think that being able to help them would bring him some sort of satisfaction, but it didn't. Not when he was to blame for his soldiers getting hurt in the first place.
This time Jaune wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings. He wasn't trying to remember the names of the people he passed and he only gave them a nod or a standard 'at ease' response when they saluted to him. There weren't that many people around him anyway, now that the sun was setting. Around ten minutes after leaving the infirmary he reached his tent and stepped inside.
Really, the word 'tent' didn't really do the place justice. It wasn't an ordinary camping tent, but rather a large structure that could easily house a small family. The interior was separated into two sections, one of which contained a table, a desk and several chairs and the other served as a bedroom, featuring a wardrobe, a small bookshelf and a large bed.
At times, Jaune felt guilty about taking up so much space, but it really was for the best. Not only did he sort of need all of that to do his work correctly, but it also helped maintain an image of him as a legitimate leader, which he hardly was.
Still, he had to try and be the best leader he could, so he trudged over to his desk. There was a tall stack of papers lying on top of it. Most of them were likely reports, either from missions or more mundane tasks, but there would no doubt be petitions and formal complaints as well. He considered hiring some sort of assistant or a secretary to help him with all the paperwork, but it wasn't an idea he would ever implement. Every single report or a request had to be seen by him personally. It was his responsibility, regardless of whether or not he lived up to it.
With an sigh, Jaune sat down and took to reviewing the documents. He wished he could say that the task was monotone and repetitive, but it was hardly the case. Each report was unique, in that each one of them pointed out a different problem, warned against a different threat or reported different person's demise.
With every document, Jaune had to expend some effort and think of what to do. Weigh the potential consequences and costs of every decision and make a choice. It tired him quickly, but by now he has developed enough discipline to carry on.
Two hours later, he was mostly done with paperwork and the few documents that remained seemed to be of lesser importance. Nonetheless, Jaune wouldn't rest until he was finished. As he was reading an account from a venture into the Grimm-infested territory near Vale, he heard somebody enter the tent. Jaune instinctively jumped from his chair and drew Crocea Mors to block an incoming attack, only to drop the guard once he realized who exactly just entered.
"Hi Jaune." Pyrrha flashed a weak smile as she walked inside. She wore a Vale Military combat uniform which was now damaged in several places. She must have lost her helmet along the way and her short, disarrayed red hair was in full display. A grenade belt she took with herself on a mission was now empty, though Miló and Akoúo̱ were luckily still hanging on her back. "Sorry for scaring you like that."
"Are you alright?" Jaune sheathed his sword now that he knew there was no danger. "Do you need any healing?"
"No, I have no major wounds, only..." Pyrrha cut off seeing her partner's stern gaze. She sighed, though without anger or annoyance and trudged towards the bed. Her legs were trembling slightly, hopefully a result of exhaustion rather than any injuries.
Jaune followed. They both sat down on the edge of a bed, though in Pyrrha's case it was more of a case of falling onto the mattress. She unbuttoned her jacket, pulled off her shirt and then threw them both onto the ground, clearly too tired to care about treating clothes with respect. Jaune was relieved to find out that there really were no major wounds on her body, though her back was covered with a long line of dark-red bruises. The likes of which form when a hit is not quite strong enough to penetrate aura, but able to cause some damage in spite of it.
"It looks nasty." Jaune commented. "Some figure?"
'Figure' was a term used to classify combatants with an active aura and proficiency in using it. Huntsmen, some high-ranking officers and people like Torchwick or Neopolitan. If Pyrrha managed to take out one of them, that would mean a particularly successful mission, but the girl shook her head.
"No, just a lot of regular recruits and a HMG. I think they were expecting me, or at least some sort of attack. Still, I managed to win somehow."
Just as always. Pyrrha was easily the strongest member of the Resistance, even though there were several ex-huntsmen in the organization. She was always a league above your average huntress candidate, but two years of constant warfare made her into a killing machine that had few equals across the entire Remnant.
Her title reflected that perfectly. 'Specialist'. A rank that was only used in Atlas Military and was reserved for the most elite soldiers, usually graduates of Atlas Academy. Almost all of them were killed during the war, but the title still aroused fear among the White Fang members and Specialist Nikos fully validated that feeling, having amassed a kill count easily in triple digits. Smaller operations would sometimes end with the enemy surrendering the moment they became aware of her presence.
While it pained Jaune to send Pyrrha out alone on missions like that, it was clearly for the best. There simply weren't many missions during which she would benefit from having backup - they were all either simple enough for the Specialist to handle on her own, or so difficult that regular soldiers or even other aura-users couldn't hang around for long. Now that Pyrrha was back, however, he could at least help her with recovery.
"Stay still." Jaune gave his partner a routine warning, after which he placed his hands upon her back, trying to be delicate as to not press against the bruises. He then 'poured' a bit of his aura onto her, careful not to apply too much of it. While his aura was now mostly regenerated after his tour in the infirmary, going overboard could result in Pyrrha's semblance going out of control.
Not that it was always a bad thing. Jaune recalled the day his semblance was fully unlocked. It was during the so-called Great Retreat, right after Vale fell to the White Fang. His team was sticking with a regiment of Valean Army that sought to leave the coastal area and join up with the other remnants or military deeper into the continent. Unfortunately, the White Fang would not allow that and expended a great deal of effort in hunting them down. At one point, they managed to surround the regiment and with the weapons acquired after taking the capitol over they had every possible advantage on their side. Jaune and his teammates fought as well as they could, but no matter how much they outclassed a single enemy recruit, they could only do so much against hundreds of them attacking from all directions. Pyrrha, grabbing all attention with both her impressive combat feats and this ridiculous 'armor' of hers, has eventually taken enough hits for her aura to break. And then one more, a sniper shot to the chest.
Jaune panicked. Against everything he learned during the war and against reason itself, he stopped fighting and desperately tried to stop the bleeding, even though it wasn't even the biggest problem after the bullet penetrated one of his partner's lungs. And again, against all reason and probability, it worked. The wound healed, not leaving even a faint scar, and Pyrrha got up stronger than at the start of the battle. Everything that had metal in it - weapons, landmines, even tanks - started to fly around, causing mayhem all throughout the battlefield. It caused almost as many problems to their side as it did to their enemies, but the resulting chaos enabled their retreat from the dangerous area.
Once they reached the relative safety of the Mountain Glenn, team JNPR was unanimously - and not entirely incorrectly - declared the reason for the regiment's survival. Despite Pyrrha being the one who did most of the fighting, people started to look up to Jaune as he was the team's official leader. He managed to convince the soldiers that he was not the person they would like to listen to, but a few weeks later somebody managed to dig out Jaune's Beacon transcripts which painted him as... a bit more competent than he actually was. From then on, there was no escape. His every attempt at explaining the situation properly was read as a sign of redundant humility on his part and soon Jaune Arc was declared the leader of a newly formed Valean Resistance Front. All hail General Vomit Boy.
"I managed to kill most of the guards." Jaune was forced to snap out of his musings as Pyrrha continued talking. "Only a handful got away. I then searched the complex, blew up whatever weapons and dust they had stored and freed all the slaves that were held there."
"It sounds like a successful mission then." Jaune said. A victory such as that was a rarity, even for Specialist Nikos herself.
"I guess, but..." Jaune suppressed a desire to sigh loudly. Pyrrha was never quite satisfied with herself - pretty much a required trait for a career fighter - but now that her fights had extremely high stakes, she would often beat herself up for not being good enough. "It doesn't really do much for us, or for anyone else for that matter. The White Fang will just mine some more dust and make more weapons and the slaves have probably nowhere to go to anyway. Most of them will get captured again of eaten by the Grimm soon enough."
Jaune had to stop the aura transfer, as the bruises were all gone by now. His hands were now touching a perfectly healthy, perfectly smooth skin that emanated with a pleasant warmth...
No. Pyrrha didn't need that kind of comfort right now. Jaune shook the unwanted thoughts away and focused on figuring out what to say to make the warrior feel better. It wasn't very hard, as they have had this conversation many times now and it always went more or less the same.
"Well, I doubt those people would prefer to be worked to death instead." he pointed out. "And the destruction of White Fang's weapons will at least slow them down. Make it harder for them to fight us right now."
"I suppose." Pyrrha conceded. As always.
"And besides, victories like that are good for the morale." Jaune continued. "The enemies you spared and the slaves you freed... they'll spread the news that there is someone out there opposing the White Fang and succeeding. People will know that we are fighting for them. That you are fighting for them."
The girl seemed to relax ever so slightly. Jaune couldn't see her face right now, but he could bet she was flushing in embarrassment. Just like him, Pyrrha was a source of hope for the Resistance and for many people outside of it. Unlike him, she lived up to this reputation. And unlike him, she partially enjoyed it.
One night, not long after the Breach, Pyrrha confessed to him that she always believed herself destined to protect the world. Victor of the People. She thought she could fulfill that destiny by becoming a huntress and, in a way, she succeeded. She surely didn't like the specifics of that success, the amount of bloodshed and suffering happening right now horrified her no less than it did Jaune, but she likely felt grateful for the role she has come to play in all of this.
Jaune wasn't. He wanted to become a huntsmen as well, but that's because he failed to realize what that truly meant. He had been blind to the darker aspects of that path, to the weight of responsibility and the ever-hurting conscience, even though his own father warned him of things such as that.
Now, Jaune Arc was a hero. A hero fighting an impossible war, constantly fearing for his friends' safety, haunted by his past failures. There was no enjoyment to this, no satisfaction or an emotional reward. Just pain, stress and sorrow. He only kept fighting because ceasing to do so would mean more deaths to be responsible for. He wasn't sure if that attitude made him a better person than Pyrrha in that regard, or the exact opposite.
He knew one thing for sure - him having such thoughts meant that he could probably use some sleep. Leaving a couple of reports for tomorrow was a little irresponsible of him, but he just knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on them right now.
"I'm going to sleep. You better do the same with how tired you look." Jaune announced and took Pyrrha's lack of response as a sign of agreement from her. He got up, took off his armor, a thin coat underneath it and then a shirt, leaving himself exposed to the cool air. He could see that Pyrrha took off the remains of her uniform as well and fully lied down on the bed. Jaune took off his shoes and followed suit, jumping underneath the quilt.
"Goodnight." Pyrrha whispered, the tiredness already overtaking her. She moved closet to Jaune and gave him a quick, chaste kiss. Right now, neither of them had the energy for anything more than that, and they both knew it.
"Goodnight." Jaune responded and waited for sleep to come.
/-/
When Jaune woke up it was half past five, or at least that's what the alarm clock placed on the shelf was showing. It has proven to be an optimal hour for Jaune to wake up, giving him just enough sleep to operate normally throughout the day. Pyrrha was still asleep, but that was normal due to how different her job was compared to his. Jaune slept from one designated hour to another, Pyrrha slept whenever she could afford to.
General got up, stretched his muscles and put on his clothes. He didn't bother to do any of that quietly - Pyrrha was a heavy sleeper, especially after staying awake for prolonged periods time like that. And besides, he wouldn't be putting his plate armor on just yet.
Jaune came out of the tent to see the sun creeping out from behind the horizon, illuminating Mountain Glenn in all its grim glory. The sight was strangely beautiful and the silhouettes of Grimm in the distance only added to its charm. The was once a time in which those creatures scared Jaune immeasurably, but now the fear of Grimm faded almost entirely, replaced by the fear of far worse monsters.
Jaune lied on the ground and began doing pushups. General or not, he was still a combatant and had to remain in shape in case he was needed in a fight again.
After completing several series of those, Jaune rested for a minute and stood up. He would have proceeded to the next part of his private fitness regime, if not for seeing several people walking the street in the distance, clearly in his direction. I wasn't weird by itself, there were some people who got up as early as him, but they either trudged individually or marched in rows. This little group consisted of three people, two of whom walked at a normal pace and the third one was jumping around as if they were afraid of stepping on a landmine. This had an obvious connotation with one of Jaune's closest friends, but why three people exactly...
After taking a moment to consider his options, Jaune decided to wait and see what would happen. He had his trusted sword and almost equally trusted shotgun at his side, so he felt pretty safe, even disregarding the fact that nobody unauthorized would be able to get so far into the encampment with the security measures they've implemented.
A few minutes later his predictions came true upon seeing Nora run up to him. She looked alright, as in none of the stains on her uniform was the color of blood and she had both Magnhild and her shotgun on her. It looked as though she left the other two far in the back, which wasn't unlike her. After she spotted Jaune she quickly ran up to him and trapped him in a hug, which also wasn't unlike her.
"Jaune! I really missed you out there!" Nora stated, somewhat redundantly.
"It's good to see you too, Nora." Jaune said, not without effort, as his teammate made it a little hard for him to breathe. Luckily, she loosened her grip a moment later.
"Ren missed you as well." the girl continued. "He is right behind me by the way, with... oh, here they are!"
Two men walked from behind a corner. One of them Jaune could recognize as Lie Ren, his trusted friend and effectively second-in-command of the entire Resistance. He wore his usual uniform, which was amazingly clean even now, as its owner returned from a several day long mission. His only visible weapon was a revolver at his waist, but he probably still had StormFlower hid in his sleeves.
The other one definitely wasn't part of the Resistance. His clothing wasn't even remotely military-like, instead resembling something a homeless person would wear. He was even more dirty that Nora right now and lacked a shirt to cover his admittedly impressive chest. Another thing that excluded the possibility of him being a soldier was his tail - fairly long and covered in blond fur, the exact same shade as his actual hair, lying in disarray at the top of his head. One of his yeas was blackened, which suggested he might be a prisoner, but he didn't appear restrained in any way. He walked freely in fact, curiously looking around.
Jaune assumed the guy didn't pose any threat and decided to ignore him for the time being, walking over to Ren instead.
"It is good to see you again, Jaune." Unlike his partner, Ren didn't try to hug Jaune, shaking his hand instead. It wasn't the warmest greeting ever, but it was just how Ren tended to act.
"Likewise, Ren." Jaune responded, also without any great show of emotions. "How did it go?"
"The mission? Everything went according to the plan." There was a tinge of pride in Ren's voice. "The village is still capable and willing to supply us, even more so now that Nora killed most of the Grimm in their area. I will write a report with the details later, but now there is someone you should meet." Ren then gestured towards the other man, who stepped forward and also outstretched a hand.
"Heya Jaune." This greeting took Jaune off guard because of how casual it was, especially since he didn't remember ever meeting that guy before.
"I'm sorry, have we met?" The General voiced his doubt.
"Well, yeah." the faunus seemed somewhat surprised, maybe even offended. "Sun. Sun Wukong. Don't you remember me? I came to Beacon for the tournament two years back?"
Now that the guy mentioned it, Jaune did remember someone like him being at Beacon. It's just that those times seemed so distant to him now that they felt like another life. He certainly wouldn't have been able to remember this guy's name on his own, no matter how much he tried.
"Oh, right. Sun. Sorry, you just changed a lot since then." Jaune lied. "Mind if I asked, what happened to your eye?"
"Well..." Sun seemed reluctant to answer. "As I marched towards this camp of yours, I accidentally set off one of the defense systems you guys set up..."
"He has fallen into one of Yatsuhashi 's traps." Ren explained. "We found him on our way back, immobilized and still somewhat dazed."
"Really, I thought that one was too silly to work." Nora joined in. "And I'm, like, me."
"Hey, I was hungry!" None of the three humans managed to suppress an amused smile, which seemed to annoy Sun even further. "Besides, it's sort of irresponsible of you to leave traps like that for anyone to walk into!"
"I'm sorry." Jaune said, after which he tried to steer the conversation back onto relevant topics. "So, what are your reasons for coming here? Do you want to join us?"
"Thanks, but I'll pass." Sun replied nonchalantly. "I've got a pretty good job going on. I'm a messenger."
It made sense. Now that the CCT system was long destroyed and the only cross-continental channels were reserved for the high-ranking regime officials, communicating over long distances was quite a challenge. Such profession was a reasonable choice for a former student of a huntsmen academy, as people strong enough to handle an occasional encounter with the Grimm were valued.
"So, do you have a message for us?" Jaune asked.
"Yeah, I do." Sun's face took a more serious tone. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to recall exactly what he wished to say, before opening his mouth again.
"Ghira Belladonna, the rightful chieftain of Menagerie, supports Valean Resistance Front in their battle against the White Fang. He would like to speak with the General personally."
So that's the new chapter. This time there is only one perspective, though it is a one that allows me to present the situation adequately. Hope it works.
And if you are confused as to how communication works in this continuity, then don't worry, so am I. Canon seems to be pretty inconsistent as to what the CCT towers actually do, as Adam is seemingly capable to call the Albains from across the ocean with no communication lag. I just assumed that the White Fang stole some cool holographic phones that work without the help of the towers. Bottom of the line is: Villains can phone each other, the heroes can't. Life's not fair.
Really not fair. Seriously Adam, did you have to go down like that? At least now I have an additional motivation to write this fic, as to give the alternate version of Adam an opportunity to revel in his victory. If only temporarily.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed.