The Most Dangerous Game:
The world of Remnant is a cruel place where the eyes of the kingdom do not see. And for Jaune, the world has been as cruel as can be to a young man. Left to fight for his live among the rabble and refuse a world around, the young huntsman has distinguished himself as a capable warrior. Despite this, he still wishes to be free, and a chance encounter might just be what he needed.
0-0-0-0
He could vaguely hear the crowd's cheers from outside his lavish room. The cacophony of myriad voices raised in a primal lust for bloodshed and good old fashioned violence, for today was a very special day.
Today was the day that the newcomers shipped in. Yes, all the fresh meat stolen, captured, bought, and sponsored from around the globe to compete for the amusement of what the boy thought must've been some rich folk. All they ever wanted was more blood, more spectacular battles, more gruesome carnage from their gladiators and they got it in full. Turns out they were willing to pay out the ass to get some fresh cuts in that could challenge the reigning champ.
The blonde boy leaned back in the plush couch and sighed, he was willing to bet his bottom dollar that the tournaments outside the Warzone were a lot more tame. Still, he had a job to do and by god was he going to abide by it. Getting up and putting on his piecemeal leather armor, Jaune Arc stood just outside of the balcony where the freshies were all waiting in a crowd to be addressed by him.
"The Butcher of Sierra Vista..."
"The Knight in Bloody Armor... "
"The four times reigning champ..."
"We give you, Jaune Arc!"
That was his cue, the addressed young man walked out onto the balcony in all his sundried glory. The years in the Warzone had not been kind, and it showed in the grizzled and scarred features visible from the leather pieces. The crowd cheered raucously, stamping their feet and whistling in excitement, meanwhile the fighters down below seemed both amused, confused, angered, and perturbed by the sudden appearance of the so-called "champion".
"Warriors, slaves, fighters, and rebels; please! Lend me your ears!" Jaune started, splaying his arms wide before him. "You were brought here, one way or another, for a singular, glorious purpose: To Fight!"
Another wave of cheers, some even from the gladiators.
"It is to this end, that you must not think of yourselves as men and women, but as tools of bloodshed and entertainment." he continued, only slightly plagiarizing past speeches of his own and of other champions. "The rules are simple: There are no rules. You are expected to get down and dirty, fight tooth and nail, hit below the belt, scratch out eyes, spit, claw, and punch through your enemies."
The crowd below shuffled, looking between eachother like they expected things to devolve into an all-out brawl.
"There is no escape from The Warzone, or at least, there is no escape alive. Those who do well in The Pit will be adorned with gold, women, wine, and glory, and those who flounder will find their carcasses thrown into the incinerator. I am the four times champion and running here, and it would be wise that you do not underestimate my age for a lack of experience, I have slain greater foes than you."
Once again the crowd shuffled, some of the gladiators looking agitated by the remarks while others just sneered up in disdain at Jaune.
"Fear not, though, for there is an eternal glory in death here. We fight for a higher purpose, we fight to not only survive but to entertain, we are the bloodied battlers and gladiators of The Warzone, and we are the closest things to gods that Remnant will ever witness!" The crowd cheered at that, the sound almost deafening as it seemed to shake the stone and metal coliseum. "I look forward to killing you all in glorious battle!"
The crowd cheered again as Jaune left to return to his quarters, from his experience they would be carted away for examination, processing, and numbering before they'd be put into the living quarters. Those who were brought here by sponsors may be treated to private rooms, but those here through enslavement or kidnapping would be dumped with the others. An unenviable position from Jaune's experience, yes there was many a night of assassinations and poisonings in that large room.
At least he didn't need to worry about that, he was safe as can be up in his personal penthouse. Being the champion had some perks after all, women on demand, entertainment, training, money, wine, anything he wanted was his.
Except freedom.
Jaune sighed, tapping a finger against his pauldron, the black leather armor around his shoulder and arm connecting to a bandolier across his bare chest. His jeans fitted for comfort, breathability, strength, and flex and a pair of black boots. Swan Song lay sheathed on either side of his waist by a black belt, ridden with pouches of dust crystals and other essentials.
He sat back tiredly, idly wondering what his sponsor would put together for him for the opening act. It was customary for the champion to take first match to show off, get the crowd hyped up, and let the newcomers get a taste of the competition. Then of course came the The Reckoning, where all the competitors would be released to murder eachother until the herd had thinned to an acceptable amount.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in." he said, jutting his chain at the mysterious figure.
In walked a tall man dressed in a red, three-piece striped suit and a black velvet vest. Chili Habenero, his sponsor, smiled that usual shark-like smile and walked over to his favorite champion.
"Jaune, Jaune, Jaune! C'était génial!" he complemented, coming over and kissing each cheek lightly. "My word you should see them all down there! The director thinks this'll be a good batch."
"The old man say what he wanted for the opening act?" Jaune asked, folding his arms over his scarred chest.
"Oh babe you know it!" Chili winked, tapping a mischievous finger to his cheek. "The boys in the bestiary pulled in a major catch last week: A Silverback Beringel! The boys are excited to see you rip it apart."
Jaune sniffed the air and narrowed his eyes, a Silverback Beringel was quite the catch. He'd fought plenty of Grimm in his time so this wasn't too new, as long as the boys upstairs didn't force him to wrestle the thing like last year he'd be in the clear. Gods, how embarrassing would it be for the champion to be ripped apart by the opening act? The Warzone would lose all its credibility.
"Speaking of which!" Chili exclaimed, wagging a finger at his prized gladiator. "Vulcan wants to do some tune-ups on your weapons to make sure they're sharp as a tack before you fight, so please give them to Orabella so she can take them down."
"Alright, but I swear to god if I get word someone was found tampering with them I'll-"
"Sweetie, hun, babe, buddy you know that won't happen again!" Chili assured, smacking Jaune's chest lightly. "We already had Mr. Gilford melted down into a puddle of goo for that, and this time it's going down with Bruno as a guard. Just take a load off, maybe enjoy some TV, I'll send up some girls for you, and I even convinced the kitchens to whip up your favorite for dinner."
Well, that was a silver lining to a tedious day. Far be it from him to deny any of the above, not when there were some many unfortunate souls saddled with less, especially considering he might die tomorrow. But then again, that was life in The Warzone; you fought like the devil himself, and you either killed your enemy or died simple as that, if you killed you foe then who cares, and if you died then you have bigger things to worry about. What was it that Khryses said all the time, "Fight like your about to die and want to be as much of a pain in the ass before then"?
Yeah, Khryses was a good champion, shame Jaune had to gut him. Chili's phone started chirping a cheery tune and the flamboyant sponsor opened it with an elegant flick, listening to some voice chatter on the other end.
"Uh huh, ok, yeah he's ready, yeah he needs to send his weapons down, ok, uh huh, ok bye-bye." Chili flicked the scroll closed and brought Jaune into a warm hug. "Oh I know you'll do great, your match is tomorrow at 4 PM, so until then la nuit est à toi."
And with that Chili left, sashaying out the door and humming a cheery tune. Chili was a rather... interesting man, but he was also about the closest thing to a friend/sibling that Jaune had considering his actual family dumped him here.
Sitting back, Jaune decided to pop open his stash for once and enjoy the night away...
0-0-0-0
Jaune and Chili sat in the penthouse's expansive dining room, eating their breakfast and generally conversing with eachother.
"So, how has the new batch been working out? The troublemakers make themselves known?" Jaune asked, idly playing with his eggs. Chili dabbed his mouth and sighed mournfully.
"Oh les dieux, yes! It's the same as always what with the riff-raff screaming and caterwauling over their treatment. Why is it fair that he can shoot fireballs out of his hands but I don't even know how to swing a sword? Like, sweetie, that's the whole point, The Warzone isn't fair!" Chili took a calming sip of his tea. "Then of course there are the hotshots who think they can just waltz into your room and take you down in no time flat. Silver lining is that I love watching their faces as you crush them!"
"Well then, here's to unfair advantages." I said, grinning slightly as I held up a mug of cocoa. Chili rolled his eyes but daintily held up his cup of tea in a show of solidarity, pinkie extended. "By the way, Chili, you heard anything about that Pyrrha girl?"
"Oh chérie, the girl is nothing but soft I tell you what. I swear, those "tournaments" the Mistrali have look so childish compared to your works of art. A few of the fellas upstairs thought about taking the Pyrrha girl but there are too many eyes on her, it'd be more trouble than it would be worth." Chili shrugged and took a sip of his tea. "Who knows, if we ever get the chance I'd love to see that softie get crushed by my big strong champion."
"Oh Chili, you always know how to flatter a girl." Jaune remarked, grinning and chuckling alongside his sponsor. "Now about this Beringel..."
...
The rest of the afternoon passed by so quickly, with Chili ordering Jaune to get a quick massage before training, and before he knew it the champion was standing in the small, caged-in box that was his "corner" so to speak.
"In this corner, weighing in a 185 pounds of sheer muscle and skill, you know him, you love him, you fear him! Jaaaaaaauuuuune Arrrrrrc!" the announcer exclaimed, gate opening slowly as Jaune walked out to the adoring fans. Following his sponsor's advice, Jaune blew several kisses and started showboating off to the audience, flexing and taunting around the arena. The announcer brought down the mic to the champion for him to say some words of wisdom before the fight.
"To all the newbies out there watching, I'm about to show you just how serious things can get in The Pit. You're not in your momma's home anymore, you're in The Warzone and your ass is grass!" The crowd cheered and the mic retracted back to the announcer.
"And in this corner, weighing in at 420 pounds of sheer ferocity and carnage, I give you: Ranko!" the crowd was a mixture of booing and cheers as the hefty creature tore its way through the steel bars. It beat its chest and roared, only stopping once it caught whiff of its opponent's controlled anger and excitement.
Jaune unsheathed Swan Song, a normal pair of longsword and short sword that he carried in each hand. There were rules against mecha-shifting weapons in The Warzone as they were though to be a cheap way to win fights, however semblances had no such rule and Jaune was built for endurance. The creature slammed its mighty arms into the ground, cracking it and roaring something guttural.
"I take it you're unhappy?" Jaune shouted just loud enough for the crowd to hear. Said crowd laughed at the creature's expense causing the ape to paw at the ground, readying to charge the foolish human.
Ranko roared once more before charging at the blonde man with unnatural speed. Once it got within swinging range, Jaune rolled out of the way narrowly missing the creature's swipe. The Grimm turned to face the human only to find a sword cracking down onto its already scarred mask, Jaune pushed the assault stabbing at the creature's midsection with his short sword. The champion danced back a few steps, taking in his opponent's physique carefully.
Ranko had seen some shit in his lifetime. His chestplate and backplates were scarred, burned, and pockmarked not to mention the fact it seemed to be missing half of its face plate. No wonder the bestiary boys found such fascination with this thing, Ranko probably had been alive for at least a decade and presumably fought more than a few huntsman in his time.
Ranko punched out with an arm as thick as a tree trunk which connected with Jaune's chest. A blow that would've crushed a normal person's rib cage sent Jaune skidding back, planting the short sword into the ground to slow himself down. Jaune rushed the oncoming beringel as the creature raised its arms to crush the champion, but in comparison to some of the warriors he fought the damn thing moved slow. Jaune rolled out of the way and slashed with both his sword right into the exposed flesh of the creature's face.
It screeched in anger and began to punch out wildly, truth be told this would've been a lot harder had there been anything for Ranko to climb on or throw. Jaune continued to dodge the hefty blows, riposting some and catching lucky strikes on the large creature. In a few minutes of heated combat Jaune was no worse for wear, but the Beringel on the other hand was covered in cuts and gouges.
Time to end this Jaune thought to himself, calling upon his aura and activating his semblance. He charged straight at the creature which in turn roared and attempted to punch through his chest like wet paper. Ranko brought down a large fist at the human only to find it blocked by the man's swords, aura glowing white Jaune activated his buff and almost effortlessly threw the creature off him.
The Grimm landed on its back with an impressive Thud! and groaned. Jaune rushed up to the monster before it could regain its balance and, with the force exceeding the Grimm, smashed his sword into the head of the old monster. Ranko didn't even have time to give one last roar before his head was crushed into a black paste that slowly dribbled across the coliseum floor.
The crowds roared in excitement, reveling the bloodshed and the skill of their champion, even as the walls shook from the sound. Jaune could guess that a few of the newcomers were probably shitting themselves at the prospect of having to fight the champion, but if they made it that far Jaune guessed they will have regained at least some of their nerve.
The crowds chanted Jaune's name, creating almost a rhythmic pulse that reminded Jaune of a disturbed heartbeat. The champion waved to the chanting masses and returned to his "corner" where the door opened to reveal his sponsor. Chili clapped his hands and invited Jaune inside where he was taken to a large dining room that he had frequented in his time as the champion.
"Good to see you Mr. Jaune." The Director, an aged greying man in a matching grey suit, said extending a hand which Jaune took. "What a spectacular show out there, a few of my associates wanted a longer fight, but personally I believe it just goes to show what they're up against."
"Thank you Director." Jaune said, bowing slightly.
"Oh hush you sweetheart, no need to be modest." Chili swept in behind the champion, playfully smacking a hand against his armor. "The crowds are loving it, a lot of them are fired up for The Reckoning now that they've seen you in action again."
"I bet." hummed Jaune noncommittally.
"Well then I believe this has earned a celebration, I say we break out the Vintage White and have fun." Chili started before something rocked the room they were standing in. There was a moment of silence before The Director tersely flicked open his scroll and punched in a number.
"I see, and the guards...? How many...? Which huntsmen...? Oh, I see..." The Director flicked the scroll closed and stood in silence for a moment. "The Warzone has been breached, apparently Mistral got wind of us somehow and have sent their finest here."
"How bad is it?" Chili asked, completely serious and pulling out a modified pistol.
"They've sent Qrow Brandwen and Taiyang Xiao-Long." There was a beat of silence and Chili breathed deeply before sighing.
"Ok, that's bad. So then, what is our out?" Chili asked, The Director adjusted his tie for a moment.
"We have the secret bullhead docks for the VIPS, and of course I have my own. Chili, you'll come with me and we'll escape. Jaune, I want you to buy us time to get out of here." The Director order to which Jaune nodded resolutely.
"Yes sir." The champion said, unsheathing his swords once again. Chili seemed a tad apprehensive as The Director lead off into a secret passageway that had opened with a touch of a button.
"Jaune sweetheart it's nothing personal, but I can't be caught I-"
"Relax Chili, I get it. Good luck." Jaune said, eyes crinkling in a tired smile.
"Good luck big guy and- oh! Here, take this. It's a little something I left for you just in case." Chili said giving him a small folded note before following The Director, only stopping to blow a kiss.
Jaune unfolded the note to reveal what appeared to be a wing of the complex, a room number, and a code. A way out Jaune thought, good to know someone was still looking out for him. As of right now, the security and willing participants of The Warzone should be providing some fierce resistance to the invaders but that was subject to change once the important guys got out.
Taiyang and Qrow were new names to him, but The Director wasn't the type of man to be worried by the average huntsman. Still though, as champion he had a job to repel the invaders first, and get out second.
Jaune rushed down the stairs, rallying a few security staff behind him as they went to engage the enemy head on. They found the breach in the main room for the guests which had devolved into a warzone ironically. Jaune could pick out a dozen or more huntsman fighting head on with gladiators and security while Mistrali Marines attempted to subdue the rest. Out of all of them, there were no definite signs of the two huntsman that got The Director so worried, but that wasn't necessarily good news.
"Flank around guys, I face down the troublemakers." Jaune ordered, jumping down into the fray. Between the security unleashing a bullet hell and the Mistrali Marines doing much of the same, Jaune could see some of the huntsman and huntresses punching holes in the defense.
Without hesitation Jaune leapt for the closest one, a brunette woman with an axe, and swung down upon her. She narrowly blocked it at the last moment but left herself open to a gunshot from one of the security. The woman was thrown off balance which Jaune used slash across her abdomen, sparks of her bronze aura going everywhere and sending her into the ruined mess of a table.
Trusting the others to take care of her, Jaune moved on to the next hunter. However, this time they had witnessed the altercation and the man, with his shotgun halberd, seemed less inclined to go down easy than his friend. The two locked blades for a moment, just staring eachother down, before they broke the lock and began to swing at eachother.
This one is good thought Jaune parrying a gunshot from the shotgun while stabbing with his short sword. The huntsman danced back, firing a scattering of pellets at the champion. Jaune rolled for cover underneath an overturned table, narrowly missing being turned into peppered steak, and kicked said table straight at the huntsman. The man cleaved the broken structure in half only to find Jaune waiting for him on the other side.
The two once again locked blades, the battle around them growing intense as reinforcements arrived for the defenders.
"Bastard huntsman, think you can invade The Warzone?" Jaune growled, pressing down on the man.
"Bloody murderer, I'll split yer head open." The huntsman growled back in a thick accent.
Jaune activated his semblance momentarily, slamming the older warrior into the ground with ease. The man grunted as he was crushed against tile and cement, and Jaune, keeping the man down with his longsword, raised his short sword and prepared to deliver the final blow. The man glared defiantly at his attacker and Jaune growled as he slammed the blade down into the man's neck.
Or would have had it not been for the shot that collided with his back. Jaune gripped the floor with enough force to crack it and stopped, looking at this new assailant of his. He was tall and blonde not unlike the champion himself, but his gait and focused expression spoke of a lifetime of experience, on his hands were a pair of gauntlets that seemed modified to fire bullets.
"Taiyang, where the hell were you." the downed huntsman coughed. "Be careful, this one ain't like the rest I think he's the champ. He took down Starla with ease, and he's stronger than he looks."
"Come off it Russet, stop acting like a fish on land." Taiyang said, grinning cockily at the now-named Russet who groaned something back about blonde bastards. "As for you young man, I'd had to snap you like a twig what with being a fellow blonde and all."
The grin turned wicked.
"So give up, and I'll only break your arms."
Jaune had faced down guys like this before, and he hadn't been afraid then. "Come on old man, I'll rip your head off and wear it around my neck."
Taiyang launched himself at a speed impressive even for a huntsman aided by his gauntlets. Jaune barely had time to block the older man's punch which chipped the steel of his blades. Even then the force didn't stop and Jaune could swear he felt a hairline fracture in his arm as the grizzled huntsman pressed down and fired his weapon, at the close range Jaune couldn't avoid the buckshot that peppered across his aura.
"Fuck!" Jaune swore, creating an "X" slash and forcing the man back. The champion activated his semblance and felt some of the damage heal and his muscles pulse with strength. "You wanna dance old man? Well fine!"
Jaune shot off like a bullet into the old hunter and began swinging like a madman. Taiyang kept up with practiced ease, even if the force did exceed what he thought this kid was capable of. Eventually, Taiyang parried one of Jaune's more reckless swings and punched the younger champion right in the temple sending shocks of black and white through his vision.
There was a click of a bullet.
And then dark...
0-0-0-0
Jaune woke up slowly, fading in and out more than anything. There were voices, sounds, and what might've been fighting if he had been anymore lucid. His limited vision was swathed with white light, but he could vaguely make out muddled blobs surrounding him. His head hurt, his body felt heavy, and even in this half-alive state he could feel his aura missing.
"...He could... something..."
"Dammit... did you... him...!"
"...-at...? He tried... alive..."
"Guuh." Jaune groaned, trying to at least insult them.
"Look... Beauty... Up..."
"Urk, you fuck..." Jaune ground out, lifting his head which sent such an intense migraine that his forced him back into unconsciousness.
Sometime later Jaune actually woke up, the light around him not as painful and his aura slowly piecing itself together. He was cuffed to some kind of mixture between a bench and a chair and had a flimsy blanket over him.
"What the..." Jaune asked blearily, yanking at the tough steel.
"I wouldn't do that young man." Came a scholarly voice from his side. Whipping to the side in a frenzy Jaune caught a look of the man before his headache came back in full force. "I wouldn't do that either."
"What the fuck is going on?!" Jaune growled, palming his head in an attempt to alleviate the pain.
"What indeed, you see young man we brought you here to answer some questions. We discovered you were the champion of this "Warzone" as it had been named, and the powers that be have plenty of things they want to know." The greying man said, a small lion's tail hanging near the ground. "Barring that though, I wish to offer you a wonderful opportunity."
"Yeah? And what's that?" Jaune asked, half out of annoyance and half out of curiosity.
"I want you in my school." The old man said, smiling a grandfatherly smile.
"Why?" Jaune asked, too tired to be surprised.
"I somewhat abhor wasting such potential, especially when we could use all the help we could get in fighting the Grimm. Furthermore, recovered video tapes saw you killing plenty of Grimm in your time."
"Aren't I a criminal or something?" truthfully, Jaune never considered what would happen if The Warzone ever went down. He just assumed that if it did he'd die fighting in it like his predecessors.
"That is up to you young man, the way I see it is that you were simply a captured man bred to fight in that place. Through not fault of your own you killed your way to the top and stayed there. We couldn't find anything on you specifically, but what we did fine about your career as the champion made things worthwhile enough for me to notice." the man breathed a sigh.
"Truth be told, we were trying to find that place for years. Every time we got close they switched operations, but now we have cut out the disease from our kingdom, and we just need some help finding the stragglers. I want you to help us, in return you will be cleared of any charges and allowed to study at my academy."
"And you are?" Jaune asked, mentally writing down the pros and cons of the situation.
The grey haired man smiled. "I am Headmaster Leonardo Lionheart of Haven Academy..."