This chapter was a blast to run. At the time of this publishing, it's 11 59 PM. Just a minute before I would have broken my "one a day" upload streak. Let it never be said that it broke.
Sun Wukong had traveled the countryside by horseback, and his name had become well known throughout the west. With the enigma he was, he was certainly no stranger to the stories and superstitions which inhabited 1890 America. This specific situation was too similar to a camp side story he had heard before, as if it were a crude imitation.
"In the traditional faunus culture," Sun began, recalling stories from his childhood, his face stuck in perpetual grimace towards the sight, "There's a story about a shooting star that landed somewhere within this here desert. The land is considered cursed."
As much as he wanted to look away, Sun understood he couldn't, any clues left behind may drag them to the killer. "The land has a funny habit of testing those who enter it, it can bring out incomprehensible powers, things you'd see in fantasies, but at the cost of cursing those who enter."
"One day, a man from the Schnee Ore Company came in, and started looking around for emerald ore, as were known to the area. After he left the cursed land, he began to kill others in the same way we see here. This… disgusting disembowelment."
Sun adjusted his cowboy hat, lowering it to cover his eyes. "Then right after he went on a spree, he shot himself, as if feeling regretful."
There was a long pause as everyone involved in the situation were struck with silence at what they had just heard. Qrow's face distorted in a way he hadn't done in ages, and he broke the silence.
"That man is dead though, we can rule him out as a suspect. If we are to continue this investigation, then what should our first move be?"
Sun looked around the floor for a bit, before walking over to some horse prints, in which there was one distinct set of prints he had his eyes on. "We need to follow these first, their pattern is off center and much more crazed than the others, alongside with a distinct pattern with every step."
Qrow thought for a second, before answering, "That doesn't make it evidence, however." Sun elaborated. "No, with running like this, it is evidence. The horse went crazed from the sight of human blood, and for the rider to move in such in a nature, he has experience in the desert."
The stench of the blood was unbearable to Sun himself, but he had to keep himself disguised from being outed as a faunus. The light reflected off of something by the victim's body. A bottle, but there looks to be something inside of it? I should go check it out.
Walking over by the body, trying his best to turn his nose, he stopped with the bottle at his feet. "There looks to be something in this, Sheriff. Covered in blood, have you examined it?"
The sheriff shook his head, prompting Sun to draw his own conclusions from it. Shaking it out of the bottle into his hand, he inspected it thoroughly. This is from the victim's jeans, but why would it come off? And even if it had come off, how did it come into the bottle? With too many questions and too little answers, Sun gave an uncharacteristic sigh before returning to the tracks.
The Steel Ball Run race would not wait forever, however, the night had gone by fast, and the morning even faster, the racers were now five minutes away from the start. Qrow adjusted his necktie, and took his place on the stage.
"The goal is 'Monument Valley', 1200km away. Every participant is free to chose their route through the desert, what lodges to stay at, outside of a mandatory checkpoint roughly halfway through the stage." Uncertainty touched the crowd, obvious some were underprepared for such a long trek through the desert.
Predicting this, Qrow had prepared. "Due to the nature of travelling through a desert alone, wagons with supplies, medicine, water, etc will be trailing the race, ready to dispense at a moments notice. Don't hesitate to use them, or you will die." Speaking of dispensing, he needed to dispense some alcohol down his throat to deal with this god awful media.
A sick grin caught his face, "Do note though, if you use them you'll be retired from the race."
Jaune was reading the newspaper, which had already reported on the results of the race. With a little bit of nervousness on his face, he silently read the opinions of the editors. They all seemed to favor Adam tremendously. Will Adam win it?
"Why the droopy look, my dearest Jauney boy?" Yang, now wearing sunglasses, had noticed his concerned expression, and had spared no time teasing him on it.
"Well uh, so uh, the newspaper thinks this round is all Adam, even all the gamblers seem to think it's him. I have no chance against those legs of his."
"Ha. Bullshit." Yang was unaffected at the news. "I crushed Adam last time, and there's no way he can sprint through 1200 kilometers of Arizona desert. If he gets tired out there, he has no horse to carry him back, he might even die. Besides, I must be pretty high up in the gambling tables too, right?"
Yang's carefree nature got to him, as he found himself feeling better already. Though maybe I shouldn't feel so good about the idea of Adam dying, of course I don't want him to die! It's just uh, I want him to gracefully retire.
Jaune glanced over the gambling rankings, and with every number that came after first that was not "Yang Zeppeli", he grew more frightened as to how angry she would be. It grew even worse when he saw "Number 6 - Jaune Joestar". This was not good, it was most definitely not good, Yang couldn't accept Jaune being higher than her in this.
"Jaune, why do you look like you've just seen an old lady sunbathing on a nude beach, what rank am I?" Jaune scrambled down the list, 7th - Blake Belladonna, that's not Yang, 8th - Mercury Black, that is most DEFINITELY not Yang. Beads of sweat began forming on Jaune's forehead.
"R-Rank 9. Yang Zeppeli." Yang took off her sunglasses, and gave Jaune a glare. Surely she can't be angry at me, can she? "What rank are you, Jaune?" A small smile was on her face, but it thinly veiled the pure anger. Her eyes, oh god her eyes, did they just flick to red? Yang's eyes had indeed flicked to red, but went back to purple fairly quickly.
"I ask again, dearest Jauney boy, what rank are you?" Oh god, they flicked red again, this is not good, she's going to beat me into 10th place.
"Oh me? You meant me? Haha like Jaune Joestar me? Oh well little old me, i'm just uh… sixth place." The sentence gradually grew quieter as it went on, but Yang caught the last part.
"I'm sorry. I think I MISHEARD you." This time when Yang's eyes flicked to red, they stayed solid red for at least 5 seconds.
"I said tenth place! I'm tenth! No match for the mighty Yang Zeppeli! Yeah." That was a good enough lie, it wasn't like she was going to snatch the newspaper out of his hands, right?
Yang snatched the newspaper out of Jaune's hands, and went to her name at rank 9. There were comments by each name, explaining why they were in each rank and what to watch out for. By Yang's name it read, "Loud and impulsive, and unpredictable. While she may have placed first in a sprint, she is unlikely to perform in the long distance runs, due to her poor temper. Can be innovative at times, but is one of the most likely to be disqualified for violence."
Jaune gave a nervous smile. It wasn't enough for Yang, who began ranting about how these people are obviously not qualified to write. "It's just an everyday person, who the fuck even cares?" Obviously you. Jaune thought, but dared not spoke.
To make matters worse, their previous conceptions about Adam had been wrong. After seeing her own, she insisted on reading Adam's to see what made that "dumbass who wears black in the desert" so well favored.
"Coming from the Arizona desert." You mean the place we're about to race in? Jaune silently groaned. "Has a specific running style experts claim allows running distances over 100 kilometers a day to be easy. With such a calm head, and a home advantage, he outweighs everyone else."
Great, so we don't even have the hope of him getting tired, or 'gracefully retiring'. After Yang continued her vehement rant against the mainstream media, she decided to look at the others to point out reasons why the list is flawed.
"Rank 2, Sun Wukong." That name rang bells in Jaune's mind. Sun was well known throughout the horse riding community, even if he never raced. The papers explanation was standard enough, citing years of desert experience. Jaune pointed him out in the crowd.
"Just look at the guy, Jaune, he looks straight out of a spaghetti weste-" From my home. Yang caught herself before finishing the sentence. "Out of a spaghetti western. Look at that tiger skin, he's wearing a tiger patterned shirt, but then look at his hat! Jaune his hat is zebra pattern. You just can't trust a man with mixed patterns in his outfit, and don't even get me started on his hair." Jaune just started zoning out at that point, waiting for her to finish.
Finally, Yang concluded her rant against the cowboy she claimed to be a "disgrace to animal patterned clothing". Which wasn't that big an insult, but good enough for the blonde, feeling smug in accomplishing her mission.
"Sun is a cowboy, which means he shouldn't be too fast in sprints, but he did do quite well yesterday. I didn't even notice him, couldn't so much as hear his hooves, and as such he passed me last second."
Yang was quick with an explanation. "I think it's because of that weird hat he wears." Letting out a 'Nyo ho'. Why does she sometimes get such a weird laugh, like she can have a typical 'haha' but then all of a sudden, she 'Nyo hos'. Just another mystery about Yang Zeppeli.
Jaune pulled out their map, they had marked all the key locations the night before, and wanted to bring up his ideas, "Yang, I think this is all going to fall down to the water holes. How far you can go, how fast, and the route you take is going to have to follow the waterholes."
Yang nodded in agreement, even though he could tell she was still internally laughing about Sun's hat. She did look focused though, as she grabbed the map from Jaune and pointed out a route.
"Let's go north. After maybe 50km we'll hit the first water hole, if we get lost in this desert, it won't just be a 'graceful retirement' from the race, it'll be a 'graceful retirement' from life itself."
Jaune found himself gulping at that last comment, was he going to die in this desert? No, there's no way I can do so early. This race isn't even close to being over, and i'm not going to leave Yang's side this fast.
Yang's side. Why had she asked him to travel with her after basically telling him to take a long walk of a short pier at the start? Of course there was the steel balls, but she benefitted nothing from teaching him. Maybe i'm reading too much into this, maybe she just likes me.
As a friend of course, Jaune was certain of that much, but Jaune still wasn't sure of what he thought of the foreign Zeppeli. She was crazy, impulsive, mischievous, gorgeous, brutish and most of all arrogant, but he didn't want to race without her, not one bit.
He looked to his side, to see her trying to brush her hair. Really? Now of all times?! Minutes before the race?!
The now-familiar announcer's voice travelled through the starting line, "Thirty seconds left until the start of stage two!"
Cinder Fall put on her goggles.
Neptune was picking his nose.
Sun adjusted his hat.
Adam braced into starting position.
Yang put away her brush.
Jaune looked inside of his palm, a little cork that had stopped spinning. Before the end of this stage, I will get you to revolve again.
Tightening his grip around the little cork, the announcer shouted "The second stage has begun!"
More to come tomorrow!
