CHAPTER NINE: THE FINAL ACT

Vytal Festival

Tournament Grounds

The Final Battle

I paced around the octagonal stage, trying to steady my erratic, jumpy pulse. Casper, too, circled. Silently. Soundlessly.

Just like he'd always been.

Last time we'd met, he'd shorn off four tails from my body and hadn't made any more noise.

"You know, Jack," he began, reminding me that the ultimate risk to national security was fighting in a sanctioned celebratory tournament just a few meters away from me. "I've always looked forward to fighting you in a setting like this. I've seen you in action quite a lot, and I finally get to meet a hero of mine."

"Of course you'd want to meet your hero," I countered. "Because you're the villain, aren't you? And what's the deal with this setting in particular? Got tired of the city streets?"

For a moment, Casper narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, I guess the jig's up," Casper laughed, smiling. "Yes, Jack, I was the Mirage. I knew there was a significant chance the cure would expose my involvement, but it must have been the locals and the prison records that exposed my true identity."

"Why stick around? Didn't you get what you wanted?" I asked hostilely. "Your mother's safe, the Atlas military is in disarray with a need for new communication encryptions, and my friends all have PTSD. And I'm just now realizing that all your vague little syntax riddles were hints all this time."

Casper grinned, but now I saw a wicked gleam in his eyes, and I started to believe what Qrow had discovered in the prison records. But Qrow was wrong to question his lack of focus on assassination.

He was a born killer, even if he didn't spend his time that way.

"I could have dropped out and cited a medical emergency for Mom, yes," he said, his voice singing with a dangerous edge like one of his knives. "But I'd be lying if I didn't say I was looking forward to displaying a little supremacy. It's one thing to know your own superiority, but it is quite another to prove it, Jack. And I know you feel that, too."

"Three..." Port started the final countdown.

Casper clicked his knife pommels against two Dust cartridges on his belt. They locked in, and he raised them in a less unconventional stance.

Since quickdrawing had never seemed to work, I unsheathed the katana at my side and held it in both hands in front of me.

"End of the line, Casper," I threatened.

"Two..."

He smirked. "A lot of people say that it's the end of the line when they see my footprints end in the desert."

"One..."

His grin grew wicked.

"But, just like you, they're often irredeemably wrong," he answered with a sinister tone. "And with that...see you later."

I scowled. My hands tensed on my blade's handle.

I was aware of everything around me. My teammates on the edge of their seats. The crowd holding its breath.

"BEGIN!" Port's voice boomed. The buzzer sounded.

Not intending to waste any time (because the sooner I whupped him, the sooner he'd be jailed forever) I dashed at him. He seemed to crouch slightly.

I slid past him, my initial slash dodged by a hair as he cartwheeled onto one hand and landed on his feet behind me. Just as he recovered, I pivoted and swung a more potent slash at him. The blow met both his knives, and he slid back a fair distance without the muscular strength to fortify his position against my greater power. I lunged forward after him, then brought my blade up over his head, and slashed down, forcing him to block.

Suddenly, though, my sword stopped dead. The crowd held its breath.

I'd made a critical error.

"Forgot something, huh?" Casper grunted. "I'm the son of the Bladecatcher. Speaking of her, though, I do hope she's watching this."

He flicked his finger on his free knife, and the blade glowed a vivid cyan color. The Dust cartridge was active.

Before I could move again, he pitched his knife straight into the heel of my shoe, and froze it to the ground with the knife inside the block of ice. He spun, pivoting his knife under my blade and kicked me heavily in the face.

I turned to the right to avoid having my nose broken. I saw a red flicker of Aura, pain exploded across my left cheek, and I reeled a little bit backwards, but I was still stuck. I could only plant my other foot while trying to find a space to breathe and free my left leg. I slashed at him again, but he swiftly dodged again to my other side. He slammed his metal-heeled boot into my other knee cap - the right leg - with a sickening thud.

My aura flickered around the impact site, but that blow had been completely unimpeded, and I had to try hard to keep my balance without staggering on the initial impact. Knowing he might just dodge again if I attacked him, I slashed quickly through the ice block on my left leg, and kicked at the knife, sending it flying away as a last-second countermeasure. Unfortunately, being frozen and cold, my left leg was slightly less responsive, and the injury on my right was pulsing with a dull pain.

"You're a tough one," Casper noted, as he circled around me. "I did think that would severely handicap you, but I guess your Aura really isn't a joke."

As he spoke, pacing around, I knew he was playing on my expectations, trying to get me to turn from his knife. So I continued to stand between him and his weapon, which had skittered near the edge.

I realized that I held some kind of power in this situation. I was pretty hurt, sure, but I could rid him of his dual-wielding abilities right now and possibly tip the scales the other way.

Casper chuckled.

"Should have just circled around," his voice taunted. "It's a good train of thought, getting rid of my weapon, but that expectation is why I started moving this way. You know what this cartridge is?"

My eyes narrowed as he brought up his other knife, whose pommel and blade glowed...

Black!

My eyes widened. That Dust was...

I jumped to the left at the last second - better to land on the frozen leg than the injured one - but I felt a slight brush of air against my right arm as a wickedly sharp blade whirled past. Casper caught it out of the air as it was about to sail past him on its trajectory, then twirled it and ejected the empty cartridge, which clattered to the arena floor.

He swiped it past his belt. I heard another clicking sound as the next cartridge locked in. He scraped both of his knives together in a showy, albeit threatening gesture as he began to approach again, his eyes locked on me.

I couldn't keep this up. The more I pushed the injured leg, the sooner it was sure to give out. My left leg was recovering from potential frostbite, but still too slowly to help keep up with this deadly adversary.

I was seriously considering my Plan B at that moment.

Realizing as he approached that I couldn't let him go on the offensive before I could apply pressure under these circumstances, I decided to focus mainly on what I still had - my arms. I pushed off on my left leg and put more of my focus on quick, light attacks rather than heavy ones. As long as I knew he wasn't as physically powerful as I was, I could budget muscular strength and turn this battle into muscular endurance.

Screw you, Plan B. Never mind.

Casper parried my quicker strikes, searching for his opening, and couldn't seem to find one. I realized this was the winning move. I began to push a little harder and press for the stage's edge, which suddenly seemed extremely far away.

Casper feinted left, and stumbled slightly. I saw my chance!

I slashed with a greater power than the prior assault had contained, but not before Casper disengaged, and I realized that he'd ejected the Dust cartridge from the recently-reloaded knife as I slashed through it.

The volatility of the Dust and the power of my slash did not make for a good combination.

A great plume of fire erupted and singed my sword arm as I leapt back. I spat a parched clot of saliva in my mouth out, starting to feel the effects of the high-paced fight. I wasn't entirely short of breath, but it was becoming a concern.

If I was feeling it, it was entirely certain that him placing this much pressure on me was taking its toll on him, too. He didn't have my endurance or strength, and he'd been jumping and dodging about the entire fight. My only concern was the distance he'd created between the nature of our injuries on top of the constant exertion. He'd almost crippled both my legs, and scorched my dominant hand. All of these injuries could continue to be a factor for the rest of the fight - whichever way that went.

I knew he hadn't planned for my shift of tactics, but little did that matter when he had still evolved to match it. He was dangerous.

On instinct, I landed a little harder on my right leg after jumping back, and a spiking pain lanced through my nerves. I cried out for a brief instant, and froze up.

It was time for Casper to come jumping out of the smoke left by his explosion of Dust. He swiped up and in, aiming for my abdomen, a lightning-fast lethal slash. I had recovered just enough to block the slash by swatting it off to the side with a one-handed parry. Casper, having a changeable footwork, shifted slightly, pulled his knife back, and went for another kick to my face.

I blocked his metal-reinforced boot sole on the flat of my blade with a resounding CLANG. My lithe opponent, still locked into the stalemate, swept his empty knife against the belt of cartridges. I heard a click, and the blade began to glow cyan again.

He's trying to freeze me in place again! I noted. Damn it, this is bad!

I pressed harder, using more strength to unbalance him. Thankfully, it worked. Casper skidded backwards just a little more, and in steadying himself, did not throw his knife.

This brief respite I had created for myself, however, did not come without a cost. Casper was now able to let my blade continue on its trajectory without getting injured by it, so he pulled aside as it met the stage floor. His other leg came up, and he used his advantage to stand on the flat of my sword, forcing it onto the ground with his body weight. I almost pulled my hand off the sword trying to get it away from him, but I kept my grip.

Instead, I tried to use my other arm to force him off the blade, but I wasn't fast enough. With this close of a vantage point, he flash-froze my left leg with the next throw of his knife. The sudden sensation of cold and the weight seemed to compound with the last exposure to the frost, and I couldn't reach Casper without using my injured leg for leverage.

He'd trapped me.

He spun on his heel, and with a sickening wham, the arena followed his kicking foot's trajectory.

Everything went blurry. My aura flickered, dangerously close to disqualification. I could feel it. My neck felt strained as my head was tossed to the side. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision. I could hear my pulse in my ears. The sounds of the crowd were strangely distant and muffled. My own labored breathing was dangerously loud. My eyes happened to fall on the measurements of our Auras.

Casper Lovewright (Vacuo): 84%

Jack Gehrman (Vale): 17%

A whole two percent from being dropped. I'd gotten extremely lucky there.

I supposed at this point it was time to consider Plan B or losing, because there was no way around him assuredly slamming me against the stage's cold metal floor with his next blow. His next rather undodgeable blow, mind you.

The problem was: Plan B stood for "Bye, Bye, Last Tail," so the next Grimm I ate would have to be consumed by...eugh...eating it with my mouth.

I'd never tasted one with my own tongue, because I'd always had at least one tail to my name, but I had to imagine that was going to taste like some serious dust, blood, and ass.

...well, the scoreboard had gotten blurry to the point where I couldn't even see my own Aura level. I grimaced, and closed my eyes.

When I'm picking Grimm bones out of my molars, I'll think of you, Casper, I thought, dreading the logistics of trying to eat Grimm alive. Here goes nothing.

A surge of heat erupted from my body, and my Aura was re-energized temporarily. The pain lessened in my right leg. I pulled my foot out of the weakened ice, and high-kicked Casper in the chin. As he sailed back, the second knife flew out of the ice, too, beckoned by its twin, but I swung my sword at it before it could leave my range, and with a clink, the spent knife clattered to the other end of the stage.

Casper skidded to a halt using his first knife and stood ready. He wiped a spot of blood from his bottom lip, probably where he'd bitten it.

The crowd was on its feet. Both Kingdoms, Vale and Vacuo. I glanced at the Aura chart.

Casper Lovewright (Vacuo): 67%

Jack Gehrman (Vale): 43%

My sword arm tightened its grip on the blade in my arms.

I still couldn't believe that he hadn't used what I assumed was his Semblance, yet he could still push this hard. But now that it was a little more even, and I'd be less of an easy target now, there was still a chance.

"To think you'd expend your last tail," Casper mused, chuckling. Seemed his constant exertion was catching up with him. "You are full of surprises, Jack. I didn't think this would matter so much to you."

I knew he was getting tired. His shoulders rose and fell slightly more, which confirmed my suspicion. He'd been extremely active this whole time, so of course he'd be tired.

He clicked the pommel of his remaining knife, which seemed like it had expended the rest of its Dust-generated power. The cartridge popped out. He tossed it over his shoulder, and it clattered far below the solitary raised stage we stood on.

"It matters this much to me?" I asked incredulously. "You're the one who won and stuck around for no reason at the risk of getting caught. What is it you want from this?"

"I have to thank you for something, Jack," he started pacing around to where his other knife could be accessed. "Forgive me for ignoring your question, but a word of advice. Aside from clearing my adrenaline with that kick, and ridding me of a dreadful theatrical urge to monologue, you have - as seems to be customary with you - handed me another weapon built to cut you down."

"Explain," I growled, and charged at him before he could make his way to the other knife. Casper smiled sickeningly.

"You tipped your hand," his voice echoed like a whispering breeze behind its own sound...as he disappeared from view and my slash hit absolutely nothing. The crowd suddenly gasped, and a few people screamed in horror.

"You handed me information you could have used, and could ill afford to lose," Casper's voice hissed from behind me, sounding like some kind of ghostly, echoing whisper. I was about to turn, but I felt a strange feeling in my chest. Like something should be there, and like something was, while also being chillingly absent.

No...way...I felt my chest start to heave unexpectedly, as I stared down and my eyes met a disturbing image of Casper's outstretched, shimmering hand sprouting seemingly from my heart.

"Your mistake was telling me they knew." The Mirage, now entirely feared by the festival-goers, echoed. "That was when you sealed your fate."

I looked out over the crowd. I saw fear. Horror. Revulsion. Anxiety. But in a moment of complete and utter circumstance, amidst the sea of negativity and about to breathe my last, I locked eyes with the only chance I had.

I saw Sasha, Regalia, and Pauline preparing their weapons in their seats. They looked scared. They feared for my life.

But above all, they held the key. Casper and I, all this time, had been so similar, when I really thought about it. Both of us wanted to protect the ones closest to us, and to do that, both of us walked the path of danger in constant need of companionship.

That was how I understood him. The only thing that separated him from me was how lonely he really was.

"Casper..." I got out, the strange feeling in my chest growing unbearable. "You're fighting for...Selene, aren't you...?"

He said nothing. But for just a second, his hand had flickered just a little more. That was the go-ahead.

I took the gamble.

"You told me that she cried when you lied to her...the last time," I managed. "You said...it hurt you. When she asks about this...what will you...tell her?"

Casper hesitated, and flickered a little more violently.

Just enough time.

I dashed away, and before he could reappear or move, I released the last of my Aura boost into one slash to cut the edge of the stage where he'd been standing. He faded from view, a surprised look on his face.

The platform shuddered, and fell. For a terrifying instant, he still wasn't there. I felt my injuries start to sap my strength again, and my vision blur. I was at the end of my rope, for real this time.

If he came back, I would die.

My heart pounded as I awaited judgment.

Then, with a collective gasp and silence of the crowd, Casper flickered back into view, his body sprawled against the part of the platform I had severed, far below on the floor of the arena. He wasn't moving, and I saw a faint grey flash as his Aura petered out from the impact.

I smiled wanly, and began to succumb to exhaustion and pain. In the distance, the crowd was deathly silent as Atlas personnel began to rush onto the arena floor as it lowered back to surface level.

It's over.

Vale

Beacon Academy

Cafeteria - JSPR's Table

About a week later, the last three letters of CYAN - Yan, Allen, and Neil, did not seem eager to cause mischief. Normally, I'd hold this change of heart over their heads. Hell, I thought my teammates might do it themselves...but they didn't. In fact, there was a dark sort of atmosphere over the entire student body a great deal of time later in the wake of Casper's arrest.

While still it remained unclear how his Semblance made him disappear in such a strange way, as he wouldn't reveal the details, he did admit that his sleep fueled such a taxing ability in order to placate the interrogators, arguing that they need only be assured he could not use it. Later, when indicted before his unanimous jury, he smiled bitterly through eyes deprived of rest.

He must have known that his life would become a living Hell from that point. They would rob him of sleep, assuredly. He would waste away in restraints, one of the greatest talents of a generation lost to time, and assuming Atlas' ethnocentrism, lost to history, too, tortured to his last by neglect.

It made me truly sad. Almost mournful.

Honestly, even I knew better than to taunt the rest of Team CYAN about their leader. They seemed to be sitting quietly at their table for once, in shock, disbelief, and who knows what else.

I didn't blame them. Even to me, who won, the victory felt hollow. And yes, I'd won the Vytal Festival tournament, an honor for one among thousands, and still I had the audacity to claim that it didn't feel like a victory, because it really wasn't. It felt bitter.

As for Team CYAN's other three, they had unknowingly roomed with one of the most dangerous people to Vale and Atlas, and though they themselves were cleared of blame, undoubtedly that fact did not sit well with them. It seemed Casper was right. Regret had taken his place at their table.

I also wasn't sure how to feel. Some might say that I won by relying on the mercy of my enemy, a direct contradiction to Casper's philosophy. But in all reality, even to the very end, Casper did not feel like an enemy. Not truly. An adversary? Certainly.

However, I could have just as easily turned out like him, going too far to protect loved ones, desperate from loneliness. Did the tragedy he lived out excuse his extreme actions? I didn't believe so. That would be a stretch, even if I admittedly might do extreme things too.

But it didn't make the whole situation any more agreeable.

My thoughts were interrupted by Regalia jumping in shock as she looked up from her meal, surprised. I prepared to stand between her and her assailant.

But it wasn't an assailant. It was just Yan, standing there solemnly. The silent one.

I felt for him more than I felt for the other two. He had genuinely seemed to get along with Casper, even just a little. I'd reviewed their match in the doubles, and they hadn't performed terribly as a team.

"What are...you doing here?" Sasha still seemed a little sore from their staring contest, but even she knew to treat him with some sensitivity. Pauline and Regalia, realizing his overall innocence in mischief-making by his team even before Casper's betrayal, seemed to regard him with some sort of sympathy.

"I can no longer hold my tongue." Yan shook his head. "All my life, I used my silence to appear less weak. Less vulnerable. But silence becomes weakness in the face of injustice and in the face of emotion. Serving under Adam Taurus in the White Fang in this branch seemed like it might be the only path to peace, through supremacy of the Faunus. But watching Casper, twisted by his loneliness, wanting to declare his own 'supremacy' no matter the cost...it made me realize something I knew deep down all along."

He began to tremble under the weight of what looked like sadness and fear. Pauline seemed to be suppressing her ever-motherly urges to reach out and comfort him in an effort to let him finish.

"In Casper, I saw Adam. I saw someone who might have once been a fearless and charismatic leader, talented and brave, corrupted by the loneliness in his heart and the world around him," Yan murmured, steadying his cracking voice. "Instead, his fearless bravery became the willingness to commit unimaginable horrors and hurt people. Now, even if I wanted to, I cannot follow either of them, and I do not know where to go. I have nothing left, because I played the strong man, and it has come time for my weakness to betray me."

Yan, upon finishing his words, turned away.

"That is all," he concluded. "It was, for a time...nice to meet your team. To witness true camaraderie. It reminded me of what Faunus used to believe the future could be. Farewell."

Pauline stepped up after him. I saw tears at the edges of her eyes. Without waiting, she hugged Yan, who stopped in his tracks. She whispered something to him that I didn't catch. He bowed his head, and gripped her hand.

They stood there for a while, merely in contact.

Then, Pauline let Yan go, and he walked back over to his teammates, who seemed astounded by his display of emotion.

"What did you tell him?" Regalia looked puzzled.

"I told him they're welcome here. That I would be here for them if they needed somewhere to be." Pauline wiped her eyes. "I think after this, that's not something they'll take for granted."

I glanced over at what was once Team CYAN. They seemed to be quietly holding each others' hands in solidarity.

I knew what I had to do.

I balled up a straw wrapper and pelted Neil with the projectile. I then made a snake hiss-giggle under my breath, and with those jungle cat ears, I knew it was loud enough for them.

Pauline looked at me, mouth agape, taken aback, and in her fury raised her hand to slap me, but suddenly, I felt someone return fire. Pauline looked completely bewildered. I smiled, and looked back over at the three rascals.

Allen had a straw in his mouth. He lowered it, for a brief instant, beaming with happiness. Neil was smiling back, too. Yan signaled to the others.

Sss-sss-sss.

They returned their signature reptilian giggle. It was the best teamwork they'd ever shown us.

Lord help this world if the future starts with us, I thought, recalling Casper's final toast. But if it's our future...

I watched Yan, Allen, and Neil high-five, hissing their laughs. I couldn't help but laugh with them.

...maybe it won't be such a bad one after all.

CREDITS

Word Stuff

Author - [[classified under FILE: 'Break Room Incident']]

Characters

Jack Gehrman - Zachary Mohammed

Casper Lovewright - Author

Selene Lovewright - Author

Team JSPR - Author

Sasha - Author

Pauline - Author

Regalia - Author

Team CYAN - Author

Yan - Author

Allen - Author

Neil - Author

(All canon RWBY characters are Rooster Teeth's thing and I don't own them. I'm just the narrative-weaver.)

Thank You

Monty Oum, Rooster Teeth & The RWBY Team for Every Step of the Journey

The future starts with us.