Chapter 26 - Scio Me Nescire

The Lone Courier awoke the same way did everyday since he was ten years old and had first gotten his Pip-Boy. The device injected acetylcholine directly into his bloodstream, either as a result of the inbuilt alarm or the detection of enemies. This caused him awake far more abruptly than normal humans did. While this feature was touted by Vault-Tec (the Old World one) it more often than not was a burden to Markus. It prolonged his dreams. One could not wake from a nightmare when sedated. It also meant that should he ever not have his Pip-Boy, his sleeping and awakening would be highly irregular.

Markus was relieved to awake from his dream. Even someone who knew nothing about psychology would be able to discern at least some of the causes of his nightmares. As he performed his new morning routine, he was troubled by his mental state. Evidently, the burden of leadership was troubling him far more than he thought it was if he was dreaming about it already. Of course he did not rationally think that he was going to get his team killed. Nor could he determine why their deaths particularly bothered him so much. People around him died all the time. While it was not something he liked or was overly callous about, and it damaged him more than he was willing to admit, in the wasteland, death was merely a fact of life. The fact that he was having nightmares about it was what was peculiar. Perhaps it was because they were so young that it bothered him more so than normal? In any event, he had more pressing issues. He had no time to play psychologist in a mirror.

The others had begun to wake up. Pyrrha as was subdued as usual, though seemingly not entirely awake. Nora was bouncing around waking Ren up by literally singing his name. The Courier was beginning to understand how the Misfits felt. At least his team was competent though. Markus thought he heard a whistle through the walls. He was unsure if anyone else was capable of hearing it, so he didn't mention it. If there were no other sounds following it, it was nothing to worry about. Should, however, it be followed by more alarming sounds that could indicate hostile intent then he could-

"Good morning!," said Pyrrha cheerily addressing the entire room.

The shattering of the Courier's silent introspective jolted him from his fears. The interjection of a lively voice served to make Markus more optimistic about the future. Interaction with others always served to break the power of nightmares and the self-doubt that had encompassed him.

"Good morning," echoed the rest of the team with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"So," said Pyrrha, "What shall we do first, Markus?" The Courier answered instantly.

"First, we need to unpack."

The impression of knowledge and confidence would inspire both. Nora giggled as they all separated to empty their respective luggage. The Lone Wanderer was beginning to feel that that was her default state. Still, it didn't bother him too much. He had learned to enjoy the company of eccentric companions.

As the rest of team MRPN emptied their suitcases the Courier, as nonchalantly as possible, digitized his luggage. Simultaneously all the other occupants of the room turned towards him with a similar looks of shock and confusion on all their faces.

"What was that?" asked Ren.

Markus turned to Pyrrha and tapped his Pip-Boy.

"Remember how I said this had 'other functions'?"

"You did not mention… this."

Pyrrha and the others were not quite sure what they had seen.

"That's because technically I'm not supposed to tell anyone about this."

Pyrrha was confused now.

"Why are you telling us then?"

"My father sent a lot of prototypes with me for field testing. Most of which are classified due to contracts. I haven't technically told you anything. Besides, it's not like you guys would tell anyone. I can't tell you what it does, but it should not be too hard to figure out yourselves."

Still, seeing a couple of suitcases vanish after being surrounded by a slight glow did not provide any real clues. After about a minute of silent contemplation between the three others, the most unexpected thing happened.

Nora said, "It turned the suitcases into numbers!"

Silence reigned for about thirty seconds.

"Matter digitalization," Ren interpreted slowly.

The Courier nodded but said nothing. It seemed that Nora was more like Moira than he had expected.

"We seem to be finished unpacking," Pyrrha said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Next, we need to get to class," said the Courier. Checking his Pip-boy he found that, "our first class starts at nine. And it is…"

"Nine fifty-five" finished Ren.

"Well, time to run," said the Courier.

As they set off, he made sure to trail slightly behind Pyrrha. Even with the others' Aura enhanced speed and his weak Aura, his bionic enhancements more than made up the difference, allowing him to outpace anyone save Ruby in a sprint to say nothing of endurance running. On that front his time as a Courier had given him an immeasurable advantage. Only a few meters in front of them, team RWBY appeared to be in a similar situation. What their excuse was, he had no idea.

While the rest of the students were entirely oblivious to their surroundings, the Courier did not fail to notice the Headmaster sipping his coffee, somewhat amused at the sight of eight seventeen year olds running with varying degrees of desperation.

Well, in this instance, Markus would be the first to admit that he had been wrong. Professor Port was somehow more boring than Mr. Brotch. How such an incompetent teacher had gotten a job at such a prestigious academy, he had no idea. At least Mr. Brotch taught things. Professor Port merely regaled the students with anecdotes about his life filled with so much embellishment that nothing useful could be discerned.

Markus was actually quite disappointed by the so far poor quality of education that Beacon provided. When deciding to actually attend Beacon he had hoped to actually learn when there. Now it appeared that all the time he spent there would be wasted.

While the Courier was only half paying attention, with an brain such as his (Intelligence:10) this would be more than sufficient to get perfect marks in a joke class such as this. He only really heard the words the "teacher" was saying after he at one point cleared his throat. Evidently it had been to quiet those who had begun to become distracted by the monotony and had begun to talk amongst themselves.

"The moral of this story? A true Huntsman must be honorable!"

The Courier mentally scoffed at that. Honor was a concept that had led to more blood spilled that it had spared. Now that he was paying attention, he had nothing better to do than tear apart this poor excuse for a lecture. Much blood had been shed merely due to someone important feeling that their precious honor had been stained. Case in point, the Legion claimed it was honorable and believed wholeheartedly too.

For the Lone Courier, honor was a limitation on the means he could use to achieve his ends. This was unacceptable as the ends for which he fought were of such a nature that failure was not an option. It was a moral imperative that he achieved his objectives and he while he would seek the most moral way to accomplish said objective using, if it came down to it (and it often did) he was willing to use any means necessary. After all, if failure was an option, then there was hardly a need to fight in the first place. If his loss was a morally acceptable result, then he really had no business killing people over the issue in the first place.

"A true Huntsman must be dependable!"

Was this man a teacher or something who had to come up with motivational posters for elementary schools? Advising someone to be dependable was hardly practical information, nor did it have anything to do with being a Huntsman specifically. People in general should, and often do, strive to be dependable.

"A true Huntsman must be strategic, well-educated, and wise!"

While this advice was technically sound and was likely the first applicable information given, it simply amounted to "be virtuous!" which was about as useful as telling someone to be better.

"So, who among you believes themselves to be the embodiment of these traits?"

If any of these kids believed that they were wise, well, they would have problems in the future. He wondered if they even knew what the word philosophy meant. While that was largely a joke, he did realize that it didn't seem the sort of thing that would be in the curriculum of combat schools. While the Courier realized that he was considered by many highly respected people to be the literal embodiment of those traits, he would never, under any circumstances say so himself. The only type of person who would declare themselves the embodiment of those traits would be someone with nothing but a total lack of humility, tact, and knowledge of social convention.

Naturally, White raised her hand.

"I do, sir," she said confidently.

Of course she would, exhibit A of hubris and affluenza here ladies and gentlemen. Port's voice halted the Courier's thoughts of disdain and characteristic snarkiness.

"Well, then, let's find out! Step forward, and face your opponent!"

Markus sat up straighter in his seat. Opponent? Now there was something worth paying attention to. "Well at least this should be interesting."