First and foremost, I apologize for how late this is. School hit me hard the last two weeks I was there, and harder for Grad practice. Now, the moment its all over, my brothers come from the states, and I got new responciblities. After all that, about two weeks ago, I finally sat down to take a break, then realized "Holy shit! I'm nearly a month late!" And thus this chapter was born a week later.
Please enjoy!
The childlike whimpering and crying told Michael that he was in the right place. Caverns and corridors lined with cracks and dimly lit lights surrounded him as he entered the basement area, the place where any prisoner should be. It was only logical after all. What surprised him however was just how deep the prison was.
Dawn came faster than he thought possible. To avoid detection, he had taken refuge in a small ventilation duct, and fell asleep from waiting too long. Clumsy on his part, but sleep was one of the few things he could fight, especially when he had gotten so little lately. Finding the basement wasn't hard in the slightest, but dodging past guards was. Still, he found it, but by the time he did, it was nearly noon.
Keeping a stable times-table was simple in itself, being a requirement in his line of work. Timing needed to be managed one way or another. Counting the time by the second, he spent seven minutes walking down these stairs, trying to find the bottom, teleporting every now and again past the visions of surveillance cameras littered here and there. Drops of water occasionally plopped onto his head. The disgusting smell of mold and decay only got stronger with every step. How any sane man could stand dumping kids into this hell-hole without a second thought disgusted him.
The cries and shouts grew stronger after eight more minutes of walking. A wall of pitch black met him at the entrance, almost like it was its own separate door. Michael's breath hitched slightly, testing the air. It was sparse, with only a little leaking through from the entrance, which was more horizontal than vertical than anything else, but still led deep down. On a whim, he lit up a flare, and tossed it into the middle of the cavern. Shouts of alarm, sobbing and hisses met him on the way back. The room illuminated. He gasped at what he saw.
"Holy shit... " He rasped, clutching his drying throat that the desert had nearly destroyed.
Cages lined stone floors, stacked carelessly over each other with little regard for their safety or stability. Several were on the brink of falling over. The kids, ranging from seventeen to as young as six, were in patches and rags of what they wore when the came, scratched, dirty and bleeding, shrinking away from the harsh red light. All of them looked downright traumatized, even the hunters-in-training. Poor kids.
He approached one cage housing a young boy, probably ten years old. The name tag read Charley Mattis. The first child taken. He almost looked dead on the floor, skinny and malnourished, barely able to keep his eyes open. Something sparked in Michael than. An old feeling or moral that he thought he had once forgotten. Teeth grit, fists taught, he felt fury for the first time in a long time. Emotions and the mission scarcely coagulated, until now.
"Charley, can you look at me?" Michael asked softly. Charley's eyes shot open in fear, a manic squeak firing out of his throat, but he didn't move. His voice probably wasn't familiar to Charley. "My name is Grey. I'm here to help you."
Charley's eyes blinked. Forcing himself slightly, he looked up to face Michael, tears in his eyes. The kid was barely hanging on, skin pale and patched with brown. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days. Michael bit his lip. Keep it together, Grey, you've seen much worse than this over the years.
Dragging out his two machetes, the small space in the room was lit with crimson. His second machete, Oblivion. While Guardian kept him safe, Oblivion gave exactly what you'd think. Pooling his aura into it, the serrated crimson edge lit aflame, vibrating at an incredible speed, almost to the point of being unable to see how fast the edges shook. With one deep breath, he flitted across each cage, slicing through the metal like a hot knife through butter. In a few seconds, the bars were in pieces, some burning to the touch.
"And done." He said with a sigh of relief, halting his weapon. A throb of pain stabbed him right in his side, making him bite his lip to prevent him from crying out. His hand flew to it as if it were bleeding. The downside of using his weapons abilities. Pooling aura into guardian to make shields, or into Oblivion to sharpen the blade required hefty amounts, limiting its use. Maybe he should be more sparing.
By the time he was back on his feet, children had crowded him, some hesitant to approach, and others helping him up. Taking a deep breath, wiping the sweat off of his brow, he said, "Alright, I'll make this brief. My mission is to get you out. Once were up, I'll flag down an airship. We'll take it to… to…" He racked his brain for destinations. Safe ones at least. Naturally, he picked the first one that came to mind. "How about Anima."
The majority of the children nodded, supporting the others who could barely stand. A mass amount of mutters met him. Comments like 'he doesn't look like a hunter'. They couldn't be anymore right. If they knew who he was, they'd fear him more than the Sidewinders.
Isolating himself in the corner of the room, he fished out his scroll and dialed for Jaune. No answer came back. Damn brat was probably asleep. Lazy bones wouldn't dare stay awake unless he had to. His last bet was… him.
Michael sighed, dialing out his old 'friend's' number. He half hoped he wouldn't pick up. Matching his unlucky streak, he did.
"You've got five seconds to explain why you woke me up before I send Neo to kill you." Roman growled groggily. Weird, you'd think he'd be up at this time of day. It's probably been a rough night of pilfer and plunder.
"Roman." Michael said curtly, instinctively nodding his head.
Silence on the other end. A good ten seconds went by before another word was said. "Well if it isn't Michael Grey, top mercenary of Vale, bartender of the gods, and voted worst babysitter ever." Roman mused, suddenly much more awake. Michael rolled his eyes. How someone could stand this man was beyond him. "What can I do you for?"
"How fast can you get to Kamori Desert by airship?" Michael asked quickly.
"Mmm, depends. How much am I getting paid?" Roman drawled back. Michael clicked his tongue. Was he taking this seriously?
"How about I get my fiance to abolish a good chunk of your crimes off the net. How's that sound?"
"That's still about one lifetime of jail knocked off the twenty-seven… twenty-eight… ugh, I lost count. Care to help me count?"
"Focus!" Michael shouted, clamping his hand down onto his mouth again. Stealth, you idiot, stealth! "They're kids here. Lots of 'em. About two or three probably won't make it if we don't get them outta here now. C'mon man, just help me out."
"How much are you getting paid for this job?" Roman asked idly.
"Tch, I'm not getting paid." Michael growled back.
"You doing charity work? Who would've thought. That's not like you, Mickey."
"Did you forget that what I just said? I need transport for kids that are about to die! Kids. Dying. Do you speak my language?" Michael hissed through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I heard you. But why should I give a damn? What did those kids ever do for me?" Roman asked nonchalantly. Michael was shaking at this point. That bastard truly was a heartless criminal through and through. Why should he expect anything less? Morals aside, he knew Roman's tactic. Stalling increased desperation. Desperation increased pay. Pay makes him happy. Simplicity itself.
"Fine, damn you. How does ten thousand Lien sound?"
"Like music to my ears. That might actually be able to fund this little stunt I'm pulling at the docks not too far from now. Though I'm afraid that's not gonna cut it for this huge trek to the desert of all places. Especially today. If only there was a way that you could pay me back for such a service. A meeting with a familiar face perhaps?" Michael shook his head. That slimy bastard. Of course that's something he'd want from him.
"... Fine."
"Then we have ourselves a deal. I'll see you soon." The line went dead, thank Oum. Another minute, and he'd run himself through with Oblivion. He sighed, leaning against the wall. He may as well sit tight until he arrives. In the meantime, he glanced over one the documents he swiped.
Now, Michael wasn't a stupid man. Not even close. But the amount of medical babble, techno-jargon, and vast array of numbers made his head spin. "Geez, I need a major in freaking algebra to sort this shit out." He muttered under his breath, placing his e-cig between his lips.
Cycling through the files, puffing out an angry cloud every now and again, he happened upon the one clearly scrawled 'rose' on its surface. Wasn't that the kid's girlfriends last name? Scrunching his brow, he looked across the file, ignoring the sophisticated talk and found key words. His eyes widened, e-cig falling from his lips.
Oh shit…
Faster than a bullet, his hand reached for the scroll in his pocket, hoping and praying the kid was up awake now.
The dreaded razor. The bane of Jaune's existence currently. Staring at his razor had eaten up nearly half an hour of his morning. The shaving cream on his face had long since dried after his third time applying it. It was a crying shame that he had to get rid of his stubble that he spent a good month growing out, but he forgot something important. Beards itch. A lot. It was easier not to have it at all. Easier than spending more time in your day scratching your face like you have fleas than breathing.
Jaune sighed. Fourth time's the charm then. He rubbed the shaving cream over stubble again, wet his razor and bit his lip involuntarily. "Come on… you're a boss… you're a boss… you're a- ow ow ow ow ow ow OW!" Squeaking like a bunny, he jerked the razor from his face, rubbing the small cut that was already starting to heal. Thank Oum for aura. "That could've gone better…" He murmured with a sigh. Who knew shaving could be this difficult.
"Did you cut yourself?" Pyrrha asked behind him, tapping him on the shoulder.
"Yeah. Just trying to get the hang of this. Good morning, Pyrrha." He froze. Those words left a certain familiarity to it. A reminder. It felt like centuries had passed since he'd last said those words to her, or to anyone really. He turned to see that perfect smiling face, messy yet shining red hair, and glittering green eyes to remind himself that this was real. The red nightgown were a nice touch too. "Hey, I'm not dreaming, am I?"
"I don't think so." Pyrrha said shrugging. "You never know. I could just be a figment of your imagination."
"Oh don't." Jaune moaned, clutching his forehead with his good hand. "Don't tell me that now, I might start believing it." What a wild ride these last few months have been. It almost didn't seem real. Then he remembered how those months began. He winced. "Pyrrha… about how I left-"
"Don't bother. What's done is done." Pyrrha forced out. Her voice was rather strained, an underlying hurt under it, but she buried it farther than he could fathom, right under her smile. "You were high strung, and didn't know what you were doing. Let's just leave it at that, and start again."
Jaune sighed. Forgiving, understanding, almost motherly in her stride, it seemed nothing significant had changed with Pyrrha. There wasn't any need to tread lightly around her. That was just the kind of girl that she was. Jaune relaxed, propping himself over the edge of the wet sink with his good elbow, grinning. "So, what do you think of my amazing shave job?" He asked, stroking the one strip of shaven skin on his stubble.
Pyrrha giggled. "I think you should let someone else do it." She mused. "Slicing your face into ribbons isn't the best start to your day."
"Au contraire, my dear partner. Look at this smooth exterior. Bask in it!" He said jokingly, rubbing it with 'pride'. "That is the work of a master right there. None can- yeeks!" Pyrrha wasn't sure what was louder. The squeak of skin slipping off wet porcelain, or the girly squeal of Jaune slipping off the edge of the sink. In true Jaune fashion, he slipped to the floor, right onto his rear. Pyrrha jumped back instinctively, eyes wide with concern.
"Jaune, are you okay? Are you hurt?" She asked.
"Well, I think my ass is as fractured as my shoulder now." Jaune moaned in pain, his good arm rubbing his tailbone. Then again, with a full night of sleep, his aura had healed his wounds nicely. Cuts and scrapes had mended properly, and his broken shoulder was already on the cusp of recovery. Thank Oum for aura.
Pyrrha sighed in relief. "You really should be more careful."
"Yes mom." Jaune muttered sarcastically. She rolled her at this.
Pyrrha's gaze shifted towards him, giving an expression that he couldn't really follow. It looked almost reminiciant, and nostalgic. He could see all of his months in Beacon in her eyes. "Jaune, you look different."
"Do I? Is it the beard? It's gotta be the beard." He muttered absentmindedly.
"No, you just look… strong."
Jaune shrugged. "Maybe it's the amount of time I spent fighting lately."
Jaune felt strong. The months he spent training harder than he ever did in his life probably helped, but it went deeper than that. There was really no other way to describe it. After last night, a certain burning intensity filled him, flickering and roaring in his chest like a bonfire. He'd extend his fingers and feel as if electricity was circulating through them. Raw power bellowed deep within him, and he had no idea why. Maybe his father knew. It was his best guess.
"In any case, you have no idea how proud I am of you." Pyrrha said, smiling radiantly. "Not many men could do what you did at your level." A certain warmth filled his chest. That was Pyrrha alright. One of the few who had actual confidence in him making it in this world. The paragon of huntresses had a certain faith that he could only say Ruby did. It inspired him. She was truly one of the few people he trusted with everything, bar none.
"I still don't know how I'm even alive. Go figure, huh?" Jaune replied with a smirk.
"Still you-" There was a knock on the door.
"Jaune, are you still in there?" Jaune blinked. Was that his old man? When was the last they had talked?
"Uh… yeah. Can you gimme a second?" Jaune asked. Pyrrha shook her head.
"No, you catch up with your father. I'll see myself out. I'll see you later." She turned to the door. "You can come in, its okay."
When Arc senior opened the door, Pyrrha swiftly walked past him, waving to him as she did. His mouth fell open. "Another girl, Jaune? Really? As if that nice little black haired girl with the streaks wasn't enough for you."
"Daaaaad." Jaune moaned, trying to get the red off of his cheeks.
"I mean you did move pretty fast with her. Last night must've been a blast with the way I found you this morning." He mused, a smirk on his face.
"D-dad!" Jaune squeaked, covering his face.
Wait a minute. This morning. What happened again? It was such a blur that he could barely recall. Wasn't Ruby there with him?
Details and memories cascaded back into his head. They were both extremely tired last night, but she still came over to his room and… they slept together. Jaune's heart did a perfect one-eighty and started doing push-ups off of his chest. He'd found out many things that morning. Ruby was quite the cuddler, his scream is somehow squeakier than hers, and her face can in fact be redder than the streaks of her hair. That was like ten shades darker than crimson. Quite impressive, really.
Ruby was out of his room so fast that the rose petals she left behind barely had time to fall. A good ten minutes went by before he blinked again. It took even longer to get out of the bed. Jaune nervously rubbed the back of his head thinking about that.
"Heh, yeah, about that…" Jaune started.
"Don't bother, son. You're still young, I get it. Could never really keep myself down with one girl when I was your age." His father said, rubbing his beard in reminiscence. Jaune blinked. The invincible paladin Jonathan Arc, known to be one of Beacon's greatest students, was a past playboy. That just didn't sound right.
"How'd you get with mom?"
"Oh, she got pregnant. Kidding! Kidding." He said quickly, waving off Jaune's horror-filled face. "Naw, she was my partner in Beacon."
Once again, Jaune was dumbfounded. "Mom was a huntress? What?"
"Not by choice. She wanted to be a doctor, but her parents wouldn't have it. 'Fighting is in your blood' they said, 'your not good for much else' they said." Jaune scoffed slightly, feeling much more connected to his mother. "When we met, she had no idea how to fight. She still doesn't, really. She was never meant to. Still, she was so kind-hearted that I actually fell more for her heart than her ass, strange as it was back then. I don't even recognize myself anymore." A smile crept to his.
Jaune honestly didn't know what to say. This was certainly the most his father had ever opened up to him. Most of his childhood was spent vying for his past, and here it was in detail. Here he was, hanging off of his words like a cherub on a stem, paying attention his every word, scared that he'll change his mind.
"No one was ever kind to me like she was. My attitude kind of gave them reason not to. I was so fixated on living up to the Arc name myself, and being the hero of Beacon, or whatever, but the pure and honest truth was I was just another kid with a stolen sword and a superiority complex. Go figure. I've made many mistakes in my life…" He cupped his face, eyes starting to water. "Son, words cannot express…"
"I get it dad. We both do stupid stuff when we're angry." Jaune reasoned, rubbing his father's shoulder.
"Don't say that." He said hoarsely, shaking his head. "We're men of the Arc's. Mistakes come often and we embrace them. We fight past them. I drove you away from this family, and I regret it all. I love you, Jaune. Don't ever forget that."
"I never have." That was a lie. Or close to one at least. Many times he had questioned it, especially over these last few grueling months. Still, he couldn't bare to break his old man's heart any further. Not now when he poured his heart and soul out to him.
"Thank you." He wiped a tear from his eye. Both felt like weights had been removed from their shoulders. He made an odd sound, a scoff and sob put together. "To think I had devoted myself to my family, and nearly forced one of you away."
"Its over, Dad. And... " Jaune heaved a sigh. "You can already guess what stupid things I've pulled trying to get some space."
"I know, but I didn't want you to end up like me back then. Arrogant, crude, holier-than-thou, and most of all, just plain unlucky." He muttered.
Jaune scoffed. "I'd chock it down more as just being clumsy."
"Okay, now that you got from your mother. I swear that woman didn't know how to walk until she went to Beacon." His father muttered, arms crossed.
"Well, that clumsy woman ended up catching you, didn't she?" Amelia Arc said, strolling up to the bathroom door, the ever present smile still on her face.
"Aye, that you did." Jonathan Arc said, wrapping his arms around his wife. Jaune hid a smile. They both had a happiness that he could only dream of. Somehow they could make the most grim of reality look like heaven in a basket. That was the magic Jonathan and Amelia Arc had, and any man, yes, even their own son, would be jealous. Jaune didn't know if he'd find someone like that. Or better yet, found, just hiding right under his nose.
"For the longest time, being kind and thoughtful, or being a pacifist was a waste of time. She never wanted to hurt a fly, and I would chastise her for it. I hated it, but in eventually won me over. Her Semblance is a nice touch too, especially on my more reckless days." He said jovially, placing a kiss on his wife's head.
"What Semblance?" Jaune asked.
"Sit down, and I'll show you."
Jaune did as he was told, sitting on the seated toilet. Gently, his mother gripped his shoulders, and closed her eyes. Warmth like nothing he'd ever felt draped over him. Pure power surged through him in a massive torrent. His body was covered in what looked like white fire. His shoulder and ribs flared up in pain, but stopped just as soon as it came. When she was done, she went pale, and leaned on her husband for support.
Jaune stood up, expecting pain, but felt nothing. If anything, he felt lighter, more awake and alive. The white fire had dissipated. "Did you just heal me?" He asked, rubbing his now working shoulder.
"No, you healed yourself." His mother said. "A little family Semblance I have. None of my family were known for our strength, so we harnessed the talent of giving strength to those who need it. In other words…" She waved her hand expectantly.
"Aura enhancement." Jaune answered, clenching his now powerful hands.
"How do you feel?" His father asked.
"Like I can take on the world!" He exclaimed. Careful with his mother, he hugged his parents tightly. Jaune had to admit, he got an odd amount of satisfaction from knowing he could hug his titan of a father so hard that he could make him gasp. "Thank you. Both of you."
"And thank you for being our son, Jaune. Be safe, alright?" His mother asked.
"Always."
Hours passed and Jaune still felt like he was on cloud nine. The enhancement had worn off long ago, but his elation hadn't. It's been far too long since he's had a moment to just sit down and breath. Even better, his family was with him, support and all. Basking in the sun, laying in his grassy backyard, he stared at the skies with one of the widest grins he ever had.
His scroll rang. Jaune scrunched his eyes in agitation. With the entire crew here, there was only one other person it could be. He answered quickly, but was on edge the moment he heard nothing but static.
"K-Kid?" That was Michael's voice, though it was drowned out by the static. He could barely make a word out.
"Michael? What's going on? Where are you? I thought you were coming to get me in a week, but your a little late, don't you think?" Jaune complained. Nothing but static. "If you aren't picking me up, I'm heading back to Vale without you." More static. "Michael?" The line cut dead. Jaune blinked in confusion. "Oooookay?"
"Vomit boy, quit talking to your boyfriend and help us out!" Yang called from in the house.
"Boyfriend? What're you even- know what? Nevermind." Jaune groaned, standing and stretching. When he arrived back into the house, Yang slammed the door, and leaned on it, grinning.
"So, I found you and my sister this mor-"
"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me!" Jaune screamed in panic, setting the world record for dropping down to his knees to beg. That was so fast that Yang thought yellow roses would start flying out of him.
"Jeez, you act fast." Yang complimented, gripping him by his hoodie, and yanking him to his feet. "Relax. I saw what happened. For the most part at least. Thanks for comforting her by the way."
"U-uh... um… I uh…" Jaune could barely get a word out.
"Unless it wasn't consensual…" Yang said, her tone lowering, her eyes slowly darkening to crimson. Was it Jaune or was her grip getting stronger? Oh now…
"Nope! It was consensual! I would never do anything bad like that to her! I swear!" Jaune squeaked, hands raised in defence.
"Then we don't have a problem." She said, sticking her tongue out, letting go of his hoodie. Her eyes went back to their usual lavender.
Jaune cocked his head. "That's it?"
"That's it." She nonchalantly picked up her bag, and lugged it over her shoulder. She caught Jaune still staring, then smirked. "Hey, do you think I should start demanding pay for anyone who starts at my boobs?" Jaune coughed, blushing madly from embarrassment. Yang chuckled. "Yup, some things never change. And to answer your question, yeah, that's it. What, do you expect me to go ape shit on you?"
"Um… yeah? I mean, that is your sister." Jaune croaked.
"And your damn well lucky that you're her best friend, and someone I can trust, otherwise, I might not've been so nice. On the other hand, she can take care of herself, and I trust her judgement. I know she doesn't let anyone close unless she truly trusts them. Now, can we trust you?" She asked.
"Of course. Without a doubt." Jaune affirmed.
"Then we've got nothing to worry about. Grab your stuff and meet us at the airship. Oh, and can you grab Ruby while you're at it? I haven't seen her much today. She's been stuck in her room sick all morning. Something she ate I guess. See ya." She winked before walking away, slamming the door behind her. Jaune sighed. She had no love for subtlety, that girl.
Jaune psyched himself up before walking to the kitchen, stopping from to see that Ruby's soup was still there. He cocked a brow. She left her food behind? That certainly doesn't sound like her. Planting his thumb into tomato soup, he tasted it. The very moment he noticed the taste was off, he spat it back out. Enough training with Michael told him when food had been spiked.
The knight was instantly on guard, sprinting up the his room, and picking up Crocea Mors. "Ruby? Ruby! Answer me!" He rammed open the door to her room open. "Rubes? Are yo- guck!" A large hand seized around his throat. Gasping for air, clutching that held him, legs dangling off the ground, he kicked and thrashed against the person that held him, or should he say thing.
Jaune could see a perfect reflection of himself in the black glass of the Sidewinders dome. Its familiar green and black armor-like chassis filled Jaune with dread. A Sidewinder? Here? Now? Oh, Oum, why now? He couldn't even call for help. The shipyard was a good distance away, and even they could hear him, he could barely muster a grunt with the grip crushing his windpipe.
Fighting past the purple blots in his vision, he found Ruby, unconscious, wrists bound behind her back, and tape across her mouth. Panic was replaced with fury and desperation, clawing at the metal hand as if it could feel pain.
"Subject: Jaune Miles Arc." It said robotically. "Age: 17. Occupation: Mercenary in-training. Aura capacity: Astronomically high. Threat level… raised from moderate to substantial. Recommended course of action…" The robot brought Jaune closer to its 'face'. He could see the two red dots where that resembled eyes. "Elimination."
Suddenly, Jaune was flying across the room, through the window, and onto the dirt floor below. The breath flew out of him, or whatever was left of it. A shadow loomed overhead. "Oh, crap!" Jaune squeaked, forcing away his nausea, and rolling away. The Sidewinders standard issue katana impaled the ground in which he was not a few seconds ago.
"It just gets better and better." Jaune growled, drawing Crocea Mors. "Never a break, eh?"
Dropping Ruby carelessly on the ground, the Sidewinder lashed out at him, striking with the swiftness of the snake it was named after. Swords clashing at rapid speed, dirt and gravel rising with each blow, Jaune defended himself against the assault as best as he could. Michael's training came in handy. The Sidewinder's sword style switched on the fly, keeping him on his toes.
Sword strikes came out of nowhere at times, faster than he could keep track. Thankfully, his aura kept his defence up, along with his shield-play, but that could only last so long. He needed time to back up and strategize, or he wouldn't last much longer.
Parrying a downward strike with his shield, Jaune jabbed for its head. The blade rose faster than he could blink, blocking the strike, and nearly sending him off balance. He backed up against a tree, jerking away from it just as fast as it was impaled. Placing his hand against another tree, he leaned against it, catching his breath while the Sidewinder unit stared at him.
The Sidewinder was as vicious as ever. Stronger, faster and much more skilled than him, he didn't have much of a chance of taking it on head-on. Taking control of his breath, he analyzed the Sidewinder as fast as he could, from its chassis to its weapon… wait…
Jaune remembered his previous battle with Michael before he was sent on his way. The katana he wielded may have been old, but it was well maintained. Much like the Sidewinder's weapon. A rapid-fire plan formed in his head. Something crazy enough that it just might work. He twirled Crocea Mors between his fingers before jabbing the blade deep into the earth, leaving him with just his shield. He took a deep breath before waving at the robot, motioning for him to come closer.
"Come then, voltron. I can't terminate myself, now can I?" He taunted.
He almost did 'terminate' himself after actually hearing what he just said.
Nevertheless, the Sidewinder tore its sword from the tree, slicing it in half in the process. The moment the tree fell, the robot charged again, about to side-swipe him. Jaune side-stepped him, jamming the pointed edge of his shield into the base of the blade. The blade appeared out of nowhere. Jaune barely slid past it, slamming the upperpoint of his shield into the base again. One more strike, and Jaune struck it not once, but twice.
The strikes were getting heavier. The Sidewinder was adjusting to him. Good. The more force, the better. Finally, it raised its blade for a downward slash. Jaune dropped his shield, and forced all of his aura into his hands. As the blade came down, fast as lightning, Jaune gripped the midsection of the blade between his hands, stopping it entirely.
Snap!
The blade's base shattered, leaving what was left of the blade in Jaune's hands. The Sidewinder glanced at the bladeless hilt. Jaune smirked. "Gotcha this time." Without hesitation, he stabbed the blade deep into its head, through the glass and circuitry. It jolted, spasmed, spurting crude oil everywhere before falling to its knees and shorting out. It didn't move after that.
Jaune rolled and grabbed his sword, holding it poised. He waited a few seconds staring at the unmoving robot. Another few seconds. A minute. It would've been more if Jaune's legs hadn't gotten stiff and tired. He inched closer to it, kicking it with the tip of his toe. Not one movement.
He sighed. "All done."
Wasting no more time, he sheathed his sword, and ran off to find Ruby. He quickly untied her, and hauled her back to the house. The moment they stepped in her room, exhaustion hit him like a freight train, and he was on the ground, leaning on the side of the bed, holding Ruby, still unconscious, in his arms.
The Sidewinders did it. They committed his worst fear. They went after his friend. No, his family. Dread filled him. Were they going to come after the others in the crew yet? Were they just after Ruby? Jaune hoped to Oum above that Michael had found some damn good information on the Sidewinders, otherwise, he was shit out of luck. Things couldn't get much worse.
As if on cue, the front door slammed open. "Damiiiiiit…" Jaune groaned, hand already gripped at Crocea Mors hilt. To his relief, and horror, he heard Yang's voice from downstairs.
"Jaune, if you guys actually started banging, I swear I'll shove my fist up your… What in the-" Yang was at a loss for what she saw, eyes wide in surprise. The room was a complete mess. Ruby was laying in the arms of an older, blonde knight-in-shining-bunny-hoodie, covered in dirt and crude oil. Jaune nearly shrugged. He's been caught doing worse things…
"Um… I can explain?"
Michael leaned against the steel bulkhead walls, panting and sliding down onto his rear. What. A. Day. Bringing the children onto the bulkhead unscathed was dangerous enough. Roman charging in, completely ignoring stealth, letting every robot and mech fire away at him? Definitely the highlight of his day. Not sarcastic at all!
Bullet holes lined his shirts from the hail of gunfire sprayed at him. Normally, they wouldn't be a problem, but to protect who the mission demands, you sometimes have to become the meat shield. The burning pain, and weariness from his lack of aura didn't help much either. Still, mission accomplished. No casualties to report, no mistakes were made, and the reward was too good to pass up. He glanced at the documents in his bag next to him warily, hoping they didn't up and vanish on him.
But he needed answers to what the fuck he just read. About Arc. About Rose. About… De Leone. How did they know about them? And more important… who else knows?
Fishing into his pocket for his scroll, he dialed the first number he thought of. After a short wait, the call was received. "Good afternoon, this is professor Ozpin of-"
"Cut the pleasantries, we both don't have time for them." Michael said shortly.
"What's the urgency?"
Michael sucked in a breath. Ozpin spoke as if he anticipated this, that sly old bastard. Older than people would ever believe, but he could never tell anyone else that. That was the trust that kept him away from… her. "I found a few files about Arc and Rose. About their talents, I mean. We need to talk."
Hope you enjoyed that. I am thinking of making my chapters longer. Review what you think. It really helps me out and inspires me to make more! See ya!