Chapter 4: I Don't Give a Damn, Not an Iota—Motherfucker, I'm the Straightest Shota

"Here, Jaune, let me help you up. So I can touch you. Did you hurt your rear end, too?"

— 8 —

Moments like these made the world make sense. Between the chaos of other people and the insanity of daily life, it was this violence, the fight, where Ruby found herself at home. She could focus. Find a method to the world's madness. Soar the roar. Use her scythe, muscles, and semblance to their fullest.

And slice up Grimm into itty-bitty pieces.

In a word, it was beautiful. Simple. Serene.

She chambered a round and fired. The recoil ripped the beowolf's head off and sent her flying. She spun with the motion. Her scythe ripped another in half. Flesh split from muscle, tendon, and sindew, coating Ruby in gore, the kind that faded to ash on its way out. You didn't need to worry about the future, about washing your outfit. All that mattered was the present, her happy ending would come if she did good now.

Besides, she wore red for a reason. It's not like anyone would notice what she looked like in the moments before the blood dissipated.

Ruby twisted her body, landing in a crouch on Jaune's shield.

"That one!" he shouted, spinning on the ball of his foot towards an elephant-like Grimm. As small as it was, it had to be a young goliath. Jaune shoved forwards, and Ruby used her recoil to springboard off Jaune's shield at the Grimm.

Once more into the air, and once more in her own little world. And why shouldn't she be there? It better than reality. Reality murdered your mother and abandoned your half-sister. Reality was a drunken uncle doing his best to be a dad once a month while yours was having another "episode."

Reality sucked. Reality screwed you over for no reason. Didn't make sense.

She swung her scythe upwards in an arc. It caught the elephant in the trunk, shredding it down the center. It let out an aborted trumpet that sounded like a wet fart. Kind of funny, really. She latched onto one of its tusks with a hand, using her interia to pivot her around so she could jam her scythe between the Grimm's eyes. Straight into the heavy armor plating there.

Satisfying.

One day people like her would kill the Grimm. Every last one of them. Then people like Ruby could rest, lay down their weapons, and finally have a true happy ending. One that didn't end in sequel-bait. But until the butcher's work was done, this was everything that mattered.

Kill the Grimm. Be a Huntress. Save the world. Until it was done.

The mindset posed a problem. She knew this on some level. Thinking positively, having hope, that was how you made most Grimm ignore you. You needed hatred, you needed anger, if you wanted to draw more Grimm to you so you could rip them apart.

Ruby didn't hate Grimm. In fact, as she cleaved the goliath's head off, she didn't feel anything towards the Grimm but a sense of sadness. Grimm were nothing more than people who couldn't complete their souls in life. Fallen into darkness, only to return as darkness incarnate. To slay Grimm was merciful, moral, should be everyone's highest priority. A Grimm disintegrating meant a soul freed to the Wheel, give them another chance at life.

A loving mother who died in a blizzard, her final wish to see her children one last time, would finally see her family again. Better that than how the stories portrayed the Grimm who found their loved ones—unable to see them for who they were, and always ending in tragedy.

Ruby could see it in her mind's eyes, her mother, a monster whose mournful crying twisted into bloodcurdling howls, red eyes seeing only a haze of evil. That's what Summer said it was like to become a Grimm.

Someday she'd find her mother and kill her.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. On reflex she spun around intent to decapitate whatever was touching her. Jaune merely grappled her in a terrified hung, far too close to be hit.

Her cheeks reddened. "Don't scare me like that!"

His shield extended, he dropped down into a crouching, forcing Ruby down with him.

The withering goliath exploded behind her. The shockwave shoved her face into Jaune's chest, bending her neck at an awkward angle. An acid-like green misted over the air before settled over the crimson grass of the Forever Fall forest.

"Pachamama's perkies," Jaune said. "What was that? The Grimm just exploded!"

Ruby cleared her throat. "Can, uh, can you let me go?"

He blinked, then abruptly stood up with a sheepish look on his face. "Like. Yeah." He pointed at where the goliath had fallen.

The grass and dirt there looked like it'd been eaten away. Ruby had seen that kind of burn in a workshopping class she had back at Signal. A guy was trying to use Dust to make his weapon shoot acid, but all it did was ruin the school's garden. Ruby had wanted to help clean up, but when she saw all the damage and how much work that'd take, she thought to herself "Nuh-uh."

It all looked a lot like the camp they were currently in. The ruined camps filled with the ash of decaying Grimm. Palisades, gates, wrecked tents, and crates. "Merlot Industries," the old boxes' logos read. It didn't look old to Ruby, but it did look wrecked, like it'd been trashed in a hurry.

She wondered if Jaune had realized that yet or not. Ruby didn't want to risk annoying him by stealing his observational thunder. Or worse, risk stating the obvious, and being even more annoying.

Weiss dropped down from the air. She'd been riding one of her glyphs in the air like Jaune had suggested. "Did you get a look at its ears?"

Ruby shrugged. "Big, black, and floppy."

She made a circular gesture with a finger. "No, behind them. Like along the neck. They swelled up before the whole Grimm exploded."

Ruby shook her head.

That Chloe girl emerged from one of the bigger tents, twirling her kama like nunchucks. Which was weird. Ruby didn't remember there being a string holding the weapons together. "I think it was sick. Do Grimm get sick?"

Ruby gave it some thought, using the moment to collapse her scythe and store it under her cloak. "My uncle said he once fought a Grimm who kept sneezing. Don't really remember if it was sick or because it was just fighting him that way."

Jaune looked at his shield. "Do we need to wash our hands or something?"

"You can if you want," Ruby said with a shrug. "I never do."

That got her several weird looks. Jaune looks at his own hands and grimaced.

"What?" she asked. "It's faster to use some Sunrise sanitizer and my semblance than operate some gross public restroom sink."

Jaune didn't seem to really understand, so he just shook his head. "Moving on…"

"It makes sense!"

"Moving. On," he said, and Ruby sucked on her lips. She didn't want to keep on the issue and risk annoying Jaune or anyone else. And she already felt like she was dangerously close to that.

Jaune looked at the girls. "Chloe, Weiss, did you find anything at least? That guy we were looking for, I mean."

"I didn't see any obvious trail leading from the camp," Weiss said, scanning her surroundings. "It ends here."

Chloe grimaced and thumbed over her shoulder. "Found some blood in there. Some big crates with locks on 'em too."

"Can you pick it?" Jaune asked.

Chloe folded her arms and huffed. "No. Why would you say that?"

He held his hands up. "No, I—"

"Because I'm from Vacuo? I just must know how to steal."

"Yeah, Jaune," Weiss added, a strange little twitch to her lips. "Stealing is a crime and crime is for faunus. Have some manners."

Chloe snorted. "That's awful. You're awful. Never tell a joke again."

"I'll take that under advisement," Weiss said with a little smile.

Ruby felt a little uncomfortable. She was pretty sure that kind of joke isn't something you should really say in public. Or maybe it was normal humor in Atlas. Ruby hadn't really known many faunus. There weren't many on Patch and even fewer in Signal.

She looked to Jaune, hoping he'd tell the two off, but he just seemed relieved the issue with Chloe was over. Ruby didn't want to speak up and ostracize herself, so she ignored the problem too.

"Ruby, what caliber is your rifle?" Jaune asked.

"The kind that ruins your day," she said with a nod.

"Think it can blow off a lock?"

She smiled. "Wanna find out?"

— 9 —

Filthy.

Why did Cards even bother taking a shower that night if this was where she was going to end up? She figured they'd at least have some time to rest up and recuperate. More than a few measly hours at least. Enough time to grime and sweat and blood out of her outfit. Her suit was more brown than blue at this point! She could feel the dirt and sweat mingling beneath her clothes with every step.

Absolutely filthy.

An uneasy queasiness welled up in her gut when she remembered Chloe's words back at the hanger. Cards bit her lip. She knew that Huntsmen had an image to maintain. Standards to meet. No one knew that more than her. Her mom never let her forget that Huntsmen were Remnant's guiding light. People looked at them and saw heroes. Someone to admire. Who was going to admire a little girl covered in muck and grime?

Just absolutely filthy.

No one had any clue whatsoever about the white beowolf she and her team had dragged back to the camp. The science staff was just enthralled. A white Grimm that bled and whose body remained postmortem. An extraordinarily rare, if not completely unprecedented phenomenon. It was a scientific marvel from the way they talked about it.

Beyond the fear and uncertainty, something like pride welled up Cards' belly. Not only had she'd been the one to kill it—and she'd fight anyone who argued that—but she'd been among the first witnesses of such a discovery.

She wondered what mom would say is she were here right now. Maybe she could email her once they got back to Beacon? The thought made her giddy enough to dance. So she did. Then her hip banged against a desk carrying some equipment.

It rattled and a few of the archaeologists glared at her.

"Uh," she stammered, face red. "S-sorry."

Cards took a look around the tent. The biggest one from what she'd seen of the others. Apparently it belonged to Coraline de Scavi. Aside from a few young-looking archaeologists, she was all by her lonesome. Jack mentioned something about needing to use the restroom. After about ten minutes, Pyrrha had gotten worried and took off to find him. She muttered something about needing a leash.

Cards made a mental note to ask about that later in vivid detail.

Cielo had just… vanished. One second he was there and when Cards turned to look back he was just gone. Poof. Maybe he really was a ninja? Or would he just call her racist for saying that? Cards puffed her cheeks. He was one to talk.

She hadn't realized how weird she looked puffing herself up at no one at all until she heard a voice.

"Merlot Industries?" a moss-haired archaeologist said. "As in Doctor 'if it's a Grimm, stick it in 'im' Merlot?"

"Nah, I think Doctor 'I've got one more bone for 'em' Merlot is a bit snappier," another replied. A woman this time.

Was this an actual conversation she was hearing?

"Actually, you're both stupid," a bespectacled archaeologist replied. "But real talk, I think I might've seen some Merlot stuff in the area lately. Not much worth looking at. Just a bunch of leftover junk from previous expeditions like ours."

"Don't tell me Merlot got to this thing first," the moss-haired archaeologist said.

"If he did then this thing was probably grateful to die," replied Glasses.

"Godsdamned scratchers," de Scavi said with a huff. "It's like you can't even find good help anymore."

Cards nodded, feeling a little odd without her teammates. She wasn't even the leading partner between her and Cielo. She was, like, the un-leader. "Yeah. Anyways. The wolf."

The older archaeologist adjusted her spectacles and sighed. "As much as some of us would like to study this thing, none of us know anything about Grimm. Isn't that right, Henry?"

The moss-haired archeologist looked away sheepishly. Cards felt for the guy.

"We don't have the facilities, either," she said. De Scavi kept fidgeting with her glasses like it were some tic. She took a moment to think before saying, "You… probably want to send this to Beacon. Fantastic. We get some good help and now we gotta send 'em back because science demands it. Freakin' unbelievable."

Cards wanted to offer to stay, just to be polite or something. But she really didn't want to be out in the forest doing meaningless busywork. The idea to come here had been kind of cool before, but it had been Cielo's idea, not hers.

More importantly, she'd checked. No showers here. The only place to wash her anything was in a little creek nearby, and the idea of getting naked in a forest full of Grimm where some random people could ogle her—Cards squirmed in the filthy rags she insisted was her outfit.

"Well," she feebly offered. She had absolutely no idea where she was going with this. "I'm pretty positive the Headmaster'll need someone to help him with this thing. I mean, it's only fair. Right?"

It sounded fair. To Cards, it did. At the very least he could credit de Scavi with its discovery. Or re-discovery. After Cards and her team, of course. Especially after Cards.

De Scavi scoffed. She looked like she needed a drink. She proved Cards right when she brought the wooden flask around her neck to her lips. "Beware of Bitch" was engraved on the gold surface. "You think someone with a team of all scratchers matters enough to be let on board a project like this?"

That was the second time she used that word.

"Scratchers?" Cards said.

The older woman gestured around the room as she knocked back a second gulp. "Most of these kids here are just that. Kids. A good half of 'em haven't even graduated yet. Doing work no one else really wants. We call those scratchers."

Cards nodded. "So what about you?"

"I've been doin' this for twenty-years. I'm no scratcher, if that's what you're asking," she said. Again, she adjusted her glasses. "You ever heard of the Archaeolog Guild?"

Cards shook her head.

The archaeologist sighed. "Figures. It's a multinational organization that aims to standardize archaeology and ensure that findings don't end up lost in museums. All high-minded but still a bureaucratic mess." She took another drink. "We also handle the training and assignment of archaeologists in Vale. Well, depending on where you live. You know what I mean." Another sigh. "You'd think with a master's they'd have me working anything besides mostly just excavating areas in the city before new buildings got built over them, but, well, here I am. Don't wanna say it's because I'm a faunus, but…"

Cards squeezed her fingers and bit her lip.

De Scavi shook her head. "Yeah yeah, I know. A 'nimal can't complain too much, I guess. Better working in Vale than Mistral or Atlas." She looked at the young Huntress-in-training. "By the way, where'd the rest of your team go?"

"Not far away enough, unfortunately," droned a dry, lethargic voice.

Cielo walked into the tent.

"Where've you been?" Cards asked. Between the three of them, Pyrrha would have been a bit more appreciated. Still, she was almost certain that spat back at the hangar was because Cielo was defending her from Chloe in his own way. Maybe. So she felt like she could depend on Cielo. Sometimes, at least.

"Out," he simply stated. It didn't look like this was one of those times.

"What about Jack and Pyrrha?"

He shrugged. "Playing scrabble in one of the tents, maybe? Or screwing. Or both. Screwble."

Cards was genuinely worried that de Scavi was about to succumb to alcohol poisoning. "Beacon isn't very good at vetting the people they let in, are they?" the older woman asked.

Cielo shrugged. "I like to think that I have a second semblance that causes peoples' standards for acceptable company to drop. It's the only thing that explains why people don't try to kill me more often."

The conversation was already off the rails. Cards chimed in. "Hey so, uh, de Scavi over here wants to know what we plan on doing with the white Grimm."

"Sell it for parts," Cielo suggested with a shrug. "I'm sure some wizened Mistrali shaman can grind its penis up into a cure for something."

Did Grimm even have penises? She'd once seen a Grimm dakimakura, so… maybe? It took effort not to check the corpse to be sure.

Externally, Cards had no face. "Be serious."

"Like I said back in the whatever," he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the ruins. "Personally, I'd love to smugly rub it in Ozpin's slightly-less-smug-by-comparison face. But it's not really up to just me. Figured we'd wait for Jaune and his group. Vote or something."

Part of Cards wished Cielo had just agreed with her. Turn the wolf over to the Headmaster, go home, and shower. Again. At the same time, she found herself feeling for de Scavi despite the older woman's brusqueness. And more than that, what would the Headmaster do if they had returned the white Grimm? Pat them on the head and send them on their way again? There was no way she could accept that. Could she?

But the more Cards thought about it, the more she realized just how in over their heads they were. What could they have done anyway? They could barely be considered freshmen. What were they going to do about the attack on Beacon that the Headmaster and the military couldn't? And the whole Merlot thing just made the situation even muddier!

Cards hadn't realized how lost she'd gotten in her thoughts until a vibrant red blob thing torpedoed into the tent. Rose petals danced in the air with the kicked up the dirt and grass. When the petals cleared she saw Ruby. Her breath came out in labored pants and she was hunched over with her hands resting on her knees.

"Now see," Cielo said, snatching the petals out of the air. "Normally I'd be quite miffed, but roses are edible so thanks for the free food, sucker."

"Ruby?" Cards said. That uneasiness returned as Cielo gagged on his snack. What had her so winded? "Uh, are you okay?"

The girl gasped. "We're all gonna die!"

It was then that Cards realized how unlikely it was that she'd get another shower before the day was up.

a/n: Guess who's out of basic training? Guess who got the band back together?