September 8, 1919 – Morning to Midday
It was past dawn when Sergeant Ionas Arkos, Lady Weiss Schnee, and Miss Blake Belladonna, captives of the Beiyang government, were shaken out of their dreamless sleep and dragged back out into the main hall, this time occupied by a full honor guard of uniformed troops standing at attention on both flanks.
Jaune could see they were not taking any chances. That meant they knew very well the prowess of their pawn—no, Yang was more than a pawn. She was a capable Huntress who could deal serious damage when provoked. Of course, they were ignorant of the whole warrior-from-another-world thing but the gist of her combative capabilities carried over anyway.
Even in a vast enclosed space, the silence was stiff enough to allow the voice of Marshal Chi-jui to echo over them. He was talking to someone. This someone was adorned in a long coat with a wild mane of golden hair flowing down her back...
"Here they are," the marshal announced.
The Anfu Dragon turned around. Lilac eyes widened. Crossed arms came unfolded. Her jaw dropped while her legs nearly betrayed her.
SSB agent Jäger swallowed the lump in his throat. "... Uh, hey there."
Yang Xiao Long was absolutely thunderstruck. Her round face was contorted in dumbfounded shock. Layers of bandages were wrapped completely around her right hand. A mechanical hand attached to a mechanical arm, no doubt, as Blake recounted.
"... Yang," he heard Weiss breathe. "It's...it's really you."
"I knew it," echoed Blake.
It was surreal how the soldiers in the hall were rigid in fearful attention, reflecting the influence and authority carried by her name. Fitting for the most feared and revered fighter this side of the Far East. Yet the person in question was literally shaking in the knees.
Soon after, Chi-jui's voice echoed powerfully. "Xiao Long fūrén! Do you know these people?"
Jaune was forced onto his knees along with Weiss and Blake by their guards, their hands by now numb from the rope. A soldier gripped a tuft of his hair and yanked, forcing him to level Yang with his own face, the scar from the Bolshevik marksman a year ago now on full display to Ruby's maimed half-sister. He could hear his two companions grunt as they were made to do the same.
To the surprise of almost every one, Yang stuttered. The expression of pure bewilderment never left her face and while she managed to regain control of her footing, the trembling in her knees transferred to her fingers.
The moment was tense and silent. Chi-jui repeated more gently. "Xiao Long fūrén. These three people claim to know you. Do you know them?"
Blue orbs met purple gems. Yang swallowed. Then choked out, "N-no."
What!? Yang! Come on! Jaune nearly screamed. Yeah, he had not shaved in a month; sure, he had this ugly mark on his forehead; he knew they had changed over the past couple years but they were still the same people! Who else would have natural white hair or genuine cat ears!?
Chi-jui hummed. "Pardon. I did not hear you. Please repeat yourself."
Yang closed her eyes and breathed deep. "I...d-don't know...these people."
Every word was like a blade that ripped at his chest. His lips hung loose akin to a fish out of water. Glancing back at his accomplices, he could read traces of hurt on their faces. Were they so vastly different that Yang Xiao Long herself could barely recognize them? Or was there more? Was she in denial as much as Blake initially was? Was she trying to save her own hide? Did she think they were...
"But they are familiar," the Anfu Dragon rebounded. Her fists tightened. "They are very familiar."
"Ah. So they appear similar to people you know?"
"Yes. They do."
Jaune tried to read Yang. Confusion gave way to something there. Her gaze burned without her feared red irises. Was she angry or...? Agitated? For what reason was she giving them that dirty look?
"In fact, I think I actually do know who these people are."
"They claim to know you personally," the Beiyang marshal intoned.
"I'm sure they do," the Dragon replied slowly. "In fact, they should know who I am. Am I right?Sergeant Arkos? Lady Schnee?"
The two SSB agents felt their eyes bug out of their sockets. She knew their names? How!?
Yang pointed sharply at Blake. "And you. Belladonna. Ghost of Mukden."
"Playing games, Yang?" the Ghost huffed.
"Shut up." The Dragon faced her superior. "Where'd you get them, boss?"
Chi-jui made a gesture and the colonel stepped forward. He bowed reverently before issuing his report. "We found them when we responded to an attack on the railway. The train was bound for Tianjin and had already crossed the provincial border. They were carrying weapons and important papers—"
She waved him off. "Uh-huh."
Yang strolled towards the three captives with a hand on her hip. Jaune smiled weakly when she she regarded them, studied them...analyzed them. He traced where her pupils went. His beard, Weiss's scar, Blake's ears. There was a flash of anger when Yang got a closer look at her old partner—the bruises and cuts were still healing.
He heard Weiss choke a little before speaking up. "... Yang. It's...it's me... You remember me, don't you?"
Yang slowed. Her gold mane shifted and her gaze fell upon the former heiress.
"... Yeah. I think I do," she answered neutrally.
Weiss internally pleaded for some sanity to this madness. This was her teammate. Ruby's sister! Surely she may not have forgotten about her? Yang supposedly fought viciously at Haven for her sake, this girl stood by Blake's side until...well...until the Relic under the academy...
"Yo, boss!" Yang barked over her shoulder.
Marshal Chi-jui let out a strained grumble. He probably despised her lack of respect given his position in the Chinese political hierarchy. "Yes?"
"What're you gonna do with 'em?"
"Have them imprisoned, of course. They are spies and trespassers."
"Former spies and trespassers, you mean," Yang pointed out.
Weiss clammed up. Where was she going with this?
"Technically, they're rogues. Free agents. Extra muscle." The Anfu Dragon grinned. "Potential mercenaries."
The Beiyang marshal scoffed. "Xiao Long fūrén! You cannot be serious!"
"Think about it. You say they survived getting bombed to pieces. Your flunky here"—she flicked a thumb at the mildly insulted colonel—"said they found this guy"—and a finger at Jaune—"holding up ten tons of train wreck over his head with his bare hands. Glowing like a light, too. Not to mention the injuries they suffered in the crash was supposed to have killed them. Pretty impressive, don't you think?" She smirked. "Kind of like me."
The moment passed quietly. Then Chi-jui asked, "Are you saying you are the same as them? You have...abilities. And they have also?"
"Why do you think they're still alive after all the shit they've been through?" Her grin took on a slightly menacing glint. "And the shit you threw at them?"
The colonel nearly backpedaled. "We had to know for sure! You know how we must gather information, Xiao Long fūrén!"
Yang rolled her eyes as she folded her arms. Or rather, her real arm with her mechanical one. "Right. Look, I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do. But these people here... They're potential. They're...useful."
Weiss raised her brow. What kind of vocabulary was Yang using now? Was she regarding them as tools? Seriously!?
"How useful?" inquired Chi-jui.
"You need help with the south, right? And the Ma boys over west," the Dragon listed. "Of course, your old buddy Ta-shuai's been messing around up north and you don't want that. Probably has a screw lose in his head. I mean he blew up his own railroad, am I right? Plus I heard your little escapade in Mongolia isn't turning out too well. My professional opinion? You're going to need all the help you can get. You've got the Ghost practically defecting. Plus me, we could work it out."
Wait. Was Yang trying to...? Weiss blinked to catch Blake gawking at her old partner. Her ears folding showed enough emotion. Jaune, on the other hand, caught on with a knowing smirk growing at the edge of his lips.
Chi-jui stroked his beard. "That is...a tedious suggestion."
"Boss, you don't have to worry about them. If they step out of line, I'll take care of it." She tapped her knuckles together with her signature cocky grin. "You know me."
Weiss waited with baited breathe as the marshal receded behind his advisers to engage in a hushed debate. Amid the echoes, Yang turned on her heels and approached her. She leaned down close enough to make the former heiress ease back.
"Uh, Yang?" Weiss squeezed out. "Personal space?"
The Dragon withdrew silently. Then turned to Blake. Again, she leaned in close, her scrutiny mixing in with hints of anger.
The cat faunus gulped. "... What is it?"
"Nothing," Yang tersely replied. Lastly, she focused on Jaune. Notably, his unkempt facial hair and the ugly scar that run up his forehead. "... You fought in the Great War. Right, sergeant?"
"Seen more than I needed to if that's what you're asking," he replied coolly.
"Xiao Long fūrén," declared Chi-jui. "These prisoners will be released into your custody. I trust you will shape their loyalties."
Yang raised a confident fist. A shakily confident fist. "You bet your ass I will, boss-man."
Weiss found it hard to breathe a sigh of relief at that. True, Yang had somehow backed up their claim and surprisingly negotiated a pardon of some sort. However, it was clear that the Dragon herself was trudging on fresh coals. The marshal then adjourned the session and they were pulled back up to stand.
"Bring them to the Legation Quarter," Yang barked to the colonel. "And be careful."
Weiss grunted in pain when she was squeezed alongside Jaune and Blake to be paraded to the ornate double doors and out onto the cobbled grounds of the Forbidden Palace.
Bathed in orange light, the vast open yard was mesmerizing, the architecture reminding Weiss of her childhood vacations in Mistral. The sound of boots marching snapped her out of her reverie. The open grounds were soon occupied by the soldiers mustering out of the hall and other facilities across the complex. It all was so eerily homely in a sense.
"Just like Archangel," she heard Jaune mutter behind her.
She turned around. He had that look. That distant look. As he regarded the men mustering into formation, marching and running drills, the five colors of the Beiyang government flying overhead. It was a display as much as it was a training regimen. "Jaune?"
"I wonder how the boys are doing," he remarked offhandedly.
She reached over and took his hands in hers. "They're fine. They're doing well."
He shook his head. "We don't know that."
"Well, we can always hope," she chastised, squeezing his palms.
Yang's voice registered amid the strings of Mandarin being thrown about. "Untie them."
Finally! Weiss was awash with relief at restoring the use of her hands. She rubbed her wrists, feeling around the burn marks and the letting the blood flow back into her extremities. She nodded at the Dragon alongside Jaune and Blake who were also relieved at being freed of their bindings. "Thanks, Yang."
Either Yang didn't hear her or she chose not to reciprocate. Regardless, they were ushered into separate taxis, accompanied by two guards each, and driven outside through the streets of Peking.
Morning crowds parted and the occupants of the convoy of vehicles took in the sights of the capital of the Beiyang Republic. Their drivers followed this canal that snaked up to the railroad station. Beyond it were massive stone walls built with hints of European influence. Market vendors and stalls were stretched across from it.
To the former heiress, it was akin to a time capsule, a glimpse into what Mistral would have been like prior to Remnant's own Great War. Their tour was quick and the vehicles were heralded through the gates and into neater streets with tidier houses, some with clear European architecture. Almost immediately, she caught the flags of many foreign nations flying overhead. Her heart nearly leapt into her chest.
This was the Legation Quarter of Peking: the bastion of foreign power with congregations of diplomats, tourists, and expatriates. They would be able to contact the SSB!
This was an amazing development. Yang was helping them!
The taxi parked in front of an enclosed lot with Yang stepping outside and the sentries manning the gantry saluting her. Then she herself was ushered out. Jaune and Blake joined her as they were beckoned to follow the Dragon into her...personal mansion.
Well, to Weiss it had the characteristics of a mansion despite being dwarfed in space and aesthetic by the other establishments in this district.
"Does she own this place?" she heard Jaune wonder aloud.
"If she does, then that speaks volumes of how different the Chinese and the Japanese are," Blake accorded.
"I take it you were not financed as much as Yang was," Weiss posited.
The cat faunus shrugged. "I never complained about my paycheck."
"Get in here!" Yang barked from the porch. She looked over to the soldiers milling about in her front garden and barked something in accented Mandarin. The men saluted and disappeared out into the street followed immediately by the cars outside revving up and fading away.
The interior itself was modest. And clean. Upon crossing the threshold, the three guests were welcomed by a handful of servants. It was odd. Witnessing Yang of all people with her own household staff, living a near aristocratic lifestyle in the Orient. Then again, she was on a warlord's payroll. And warlords like Marshal Chi-jui tended to be quite liberal with their wealth.
The Dragon made a few phrases in Mandarin, the tone of which drained the color from their faces. The servants quickly bowed and hastened their exit. Out the front door.
Weiss shared a look with Jaune and Blake. That was one way to ask for privacy. They wordlessly trailed Yang into the parlor where their host strode towards a cabinet at the far wall. She gestured at the three to have a seat on the leather chase lounge across from her.
They did so. And the first thing they were treated to was Yang pinching herself over and over.
"Yeah. I'm healthy," she declared. To herself.
"Yang," Jaune began. "Are you...?"
She raised her palm to him and pointed to where they were seated. "Stay right there. Don't move."
Yang carefully backpedaled, her withering gaze never once leaving them, until she had unlocked the cabinet. She reached in...and pulled out a shotgun. Which she cocked. And leveled at them with an intense glare.
Jaune quickly raised his hands. "Whoa, whoa, wait—"
"Shut up! Don't move!"
Weiss pulled him down to sit with Blake. The white-haired girl recovered enough to manage a disarming glyph this got any worse. "Yang, please. What are you—"
"I told you to shut up!" she shrieked, slowly pacing towards them. "This buckshot here can hit all of you. I got enough bleach to get rid of all the blood and my staff knows my rules. So play nice."
This had gotten completely out of hand rather quickly. Perhaps Yang was still doubtful about who they were. The former heiress took a deep breathe before trying again. "... Yang Xiao Long."
Yang tensed. Her grip wavered.
"Please. Stand down. It's us. Believe it or not, it really is us." Weiss gestured at herself and the two people beside her. "Weiss Schnee... Jaune Arc... Blake Belladonna. We're real. And we're not here to do you harm. We just want to talk."
"You want to talk? You want to talk?" the Dragon sputtered. "How 'bout I do the talking? 'Cause I got the gun and you...you can't possibly be who you are. Do you have Aura?"
Weiss scrunched her brow. "Of course, we do!"
"Then tell me what Aura is! Using Professor Goodwitch's words! From our second class at Beacon, first semester!"
Oh lovely. A panicked interrogation. Had she not have enough of that already? Nonetheless, if it helped to diffuse the situation... "Aura is a manifestation of our soul..."
Jaune was more baffled than afraid. Here he was in Yang's private Mistrali-type manor, squeezed onto a leather couch, with their own host freaking out and holding a shotgun to their faces. This was bizarre to say the least. And he thought he had seen it all.
He listened as Weiss droned on about Aura and Semblance and all the basics from their classes at Beacon, almost to the word. Man, either this girl had some good memory or she was that studious that she drilled her own notes into her own head.
"What's my favorite color!?" Yang hollered.
Weiss groaned. "Yellow."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Lucky guess. What...what is...where do I come from?"
Yang...was still very much the same in some areas. The fiery brawler was not good under pressure. This time, it was Blake who answered. "You're from Patch, an island off the coast of Vale. You have a—ugh—a dog named Zwei. And your dad is a teacher at Signal Academy."
Jaune leaned over to Weiss. "Are we still going to do this?"
"Frankly, I've already had enough," she groused. "I've recovered enough to end this farce."
The blonde sergeant shrugged. "Do your thing, Weiss."
"Wha—?" Yang was immediately cut short when a small black glyph morphed in front of her, tossing the shotgun halfway across the parlor. She stumbled back and nearly landed on her rear, eyes wide and lips quivering. "Y-y-you...t-that w-was a..."
Sergeant Arkos, Lady Schnee, and Miss Belladonna arose from the chase lounge. They closed in and Yang dragged herself back.
"N-n-n-n-no! N-n-no way in hell!"
"You were really calm back there at the palace," Jaune said, genuinely perplexed. "What gives, Yang?"
"I...I had to keep up appearances," the Dragon defended. "I break down, I show weakness, I freak out and everything'll come crashing down! Whole army will come down on top of my freakin' head!"
That made some sense. First, though, they had to pacify this finicky Huntress. Weiss and Blake reached out, taking both of Yang's hands in theirs. The Dragon was stunned at their tender hold and she was tugged up into a three-way hug. Catching the bewilderment in her eyes and how glossy they became, Jaune stood back so the girls could speak their minds.
"... We missed you, Yang..."
"... I'm not dead. We're not dead..."
Yang stuttered then choked. "G-guys..." Her posture sagged and she reciprocated the embrace. Their shoulders shook. "I...I m-missed you too, guys... Oh gods... I missed you!"
SSB agent Jäger beamed. Successfully reunited with another one. Good. Things were looking up. For now. He was expecting another dip in their fortunes, having accepted the way the world works. Still, he found it best to savor this comfort. Not to mention, they were in neutral territory.
A stroll to the British sector, get the message out to Hillard and the SSB via telegram, debrief. It seemed so simple to which the realist in him readily disagreed. And Jaune, despite the high hopes preached by his SSB partner, had become too much of a realist to think that the coming days were going to be a cakewalk.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: November 17, 2018
LAST EDITED: December 5, 2018
INITIALLY UPLOADED: December 5, 2018