Yeah, sorry I took a little longer than I wanted to. Jeez, this is becoming a common thread. Anyway, we are nearly at the end of the road. Just two more missions to go before the end of this long story. I just want to say, thank you so much for sticking with me all this time. You've all made this journey amazing, And I'm so excited to finish my first long haul story. Thank you, review, and enjoy!

At first, there was only blood. Massive amounts spurting out from a single wound in Jaune's chest. There was no scream, just a surprised grunt, silently staring into the lifeless red dots that were the androids eyes through the black glass visor. There were screams, none his own, echoing as people ran away in different directions, scattering like disturbed birds in a parking lot. Slowly looking down, he saw the sword buried nearly hilt deep into his chest, pushing straight through the back in silent horror. The sight of it was felt more horrible than the wounds itself, like a reminder that this was real. This was happening.

The shock had worn off quickly, an excruciating pain replacing it. Jaune stumbled back, the sword slowly exiting his chest until he was free from it. There was still no shrieks of pain, no thrashing, not even so much as moving, still trying to compute what had just happened. All the feeling in Jaune's legs went away, his body starting to feel numb and cold before he collapsed to the ground, letting out wet gasps for air. Each breath hitched, chest throbbing and bleeding like a ruptured fountain, vision blurring, any additional noise being reduced to dull echoes and humming.

Thank the gods for aura. The wound blood flow had started to stem, closing off the wound, but it took most of it just to recover quickly. Ruby ran up to his side, face taut in fear, shouting something that he couldn't make out. Everything sounded like underwater buzzing. An arm yanked her away, Jaune's gritting his teeth in frustration, unable to move. Clarity just barely began to return, at least to the point where he could make voices out. One of the Sidewinders approached him slowly, sword still stained red with blood, dropping a computer monitor at his lap. Using whatever energy he had left, he looked up and saw a familiar face on it. The Old Man.

"Hello, Jaune Arc." The man said in monotone. "A pity I lack the ability to do this myself. Plunging a sword in your chest would have made it all the more satisfying."

Jaune stared at the Old Man's numb looking face, mouth quivering, trying any method of speaking that wasn't something comparable to baby babble. "What are you doing?" He finally managed.

"Ending my contract." The Old Man stated. "Several long months under my wing, being taught by the man I hired as a bodyguard, you've had it quite easy, haven't you? However, you wouldn't think so. The world is always against you in your pitiful point of view."

"What are you talking about?" Jaune sputtered, leaning against a wall, failing to push himself up.

"You, boy. I can't stand you. I never could. You are everything that is wrong with this world. Stuck in a fantasy of good and evil, entitlement, everything that I wanted to erase. If only I could kill you myself, but I will have to settle for watching you're cold body lose whatever life it has left." The monotone grew to a dull guttural growl, teeth grit in anger. It was the first emotion Jaune had ever seen from the experienced old mercenary. "Truly a disgusting useless waste of space. How could such a power go into you? No matter. I tried to have your aura to myself. However, it isn't worth it anymore. This Ruby girl you've brought to me, however? Well worth my time. Goodbye, boy. Burn in the deepest pits of hell."

The computer monitor flickered off, and was carried away. Jaune could hear Ruby screaming and fighting, gunfire popping like a series of firecrackers. The poor girl was fighting her heart out, and Jaune could do nothing but wait. He barely even had a handle on his surroundings, everything still a dull blur with half-muted noises. His entire body began to grow cold, whatever heat he had leaking away through his chest. To his horror, the battlecries soon stopped, and something clattered at his feet. It took a moment to focus, but there was no mistaking it. Crescent Rose had just dropped to his lap.

"Ruby… Ruby!" Jaune croaked, fighting hard to maintain clarity. The very effort of moving was enough strain to nearly make him pass out. Aura flared around him like fire, almost cauterizing the wound shut with its heat and intensity. Sparks flickered off of his fingers, mimicking his growing rage. It was too late. They were all gone. Nobody was left on that lonely, bloodstained street other than a broken knight. Could nothing go right and stay right? It felt as if Ruby was the only person he had left sometimes, and even she was taken away. A gut-wrenching pain clenched his chest in an iron grip.

It would be so easy to give up right now. Just call it quits and leave it to those far better than him. Far more experienced, ready for any situation other than a young wayward mercenary with only a few months worth of training. It would've been as easy as walking away. Jaune socked himself in the jaw right then. How dare he even have those thoughts? Ruby fought for him, stood up for him, brought him out of the brink of breaking down and brought him back up again. He would never give up on her. No. He would soldier on, and keep going. What kind of dorky boyfriend would he be if he gave up now?

Hissing in pain, holding his now closed wound, he pushed himself up to his feet, and began to walk. To where? Wherever his instincts pointed him. Just soldier on, and keep going. It's what Ruby would do.

/

In the life of a mercenary, battles tend to blur together. Experienced warriors tended to treat battles like a lien-a-dozen, bouncing through most of them with relative ease. There were few battles to commit to memory, especially if your being paid for years on end to paint a few rooms red, and get your hands dirty. This however was a battle well worth it for that memory scrapbook of messes. How long had it been since anyone had nearly shattered Michael's aura with not but a few blows.

The aggressiveness of this bear of a man was legendary. One swipe of that massive hunk of metal caused a massive swath of destruction in its wake. Concrete was smashed to dust, glass cracked just being near it's swing radius, and gusts of air threw Michael around like a ragdoll. The speed of each swing was barely a blur, even to such hyper focused eyes like Michael's, forcing him to stay on the defensive. Jason didn't defend. There was no need. The man simply wasn't human enough to take damage.

Michael dodged a downward arc, kicking off the base of the blade for extra air, contorting his body in mid-air to dodge three more slashes that came his way. After an elaborate corkscrew flip, the mercenary slashed down with both his blades, driving his full weight into the strikes as he landed. Blood spattered across the ground quickly, only to cease just as quickly as the wounds closed at an inhuman speed.

Michael clicked his tongue in frustration, raising both the blades to block a downward slash. The impact rattled his teeth, his feet cracking the asphalt at its weight. The blade blurred rapidly once more, instinct saving Michael's life as he parried the blade, the force flinging his body into a building wall, leaving several cracks in its base.

"Is that all Felix DeLeone has to offer? Just a few little tricks? A cut here and there? Have you deviated from your training this much that you can't even touch me?" Jason mocked.

Michael hissed in pain, reeling from scrapes and bruises that were growing in number. "You know what, tossing that name out like candy is just serving to piss me off, buddy." He growled.

"Afraid of a name now? I thought you would wear it with pride, being forgotten just like the rest." Jason mused. Michael clenched his teeth, feeling his anger rise like a storm. "Oh yes, I know all about the fire. Quite a shame. Not a single survivor. No one, not one but some upstart little boy with a little spark of fight in his eyes. Look at where he is now? A drunken, depraved mercenary. Don't you think you could have been a lot more?"

"The world decided to forget about me. Why should I bother to acknowledge it back if that's the case?" Michael growled. "But I have to say, you may be the second biggest hypocrite I've ever met. You had a life after what happened to you. Why give this up to defend some senile old fart?"

Jason glared at him. "You will do well to address him with respect. That man is going to change the world."

"You'll do well address this foot up your ass, gigantor!" Michael shouted, teleporting behind Jason, blades brandished. It was too obvious, a dirt cheap move made by a desperate fighter. A well placed back kick had already struck him in the ribs, blasting him away like a cannonball into a car, crumpling the side of it like an aluminum can. At this point, Michael's aura was dipping to the red, pain seeping through.

"If you would just accept Cornelius, and his ideals, this would all be over. Imagine it, a real place for abandoned warriors to go, to become something more, to have somewhere to belong in a world so cold. A company like no other. A true sanctuary. And all I must do is follow this man to the grave if I must make the world better." Jason preached, voice etched with pride.

"Spoken like a true prophet." Michael rasped, worming out of the car wreckage. "You do know the bastard doesn't give a damn about you, me or anyone under him. All he cares about is his business and his business alone. Even if you died, he wouldn't bat an eye."

"I know. But think of the imprint my death would bring. A world where the lost are finally free to become great. Don't you want that?" Jason asked, almost like the answer was obvious.

"You can't be serious. The world will go completely bonkers if Mercenaries run free like that. That's why laws exist! Mercenaries are lawless rogues fighting, stealing, murdering and kidnapping for money. We're no better than common bandits! Now you want to spread them everywhere in some organized syndicate? Are you nuts?" Michael demanded.

"No. On the contrary, I'm seeing more sense than I have in so long. I am sorry that you could never understand our way." Jason said with a sigh. "A shame you'll never see this world grow and adapt to us. Begone."

Michael laughed. Of all the things that could that could come out of the mercenaries mouth, it was a dry chuckle. Had there been too many dings to the noggin over the years that something was finally knocked loose? Perhaps it was the common sense. "Hate to burst your bubble, mister High and Mighty, but your Bond-esce delusions of grandeur aren't going to put me down. Neither is that hunk of raw over-compensation you're hefting over your shoulder. Seriously, that thing needs its own wheelbarrow."

Jason scrunched his brows in irritation. "Even now, you try to agitate me even further? Even with your back against the wall, and an undead beast at your throat?"

"What can I say?" Michael quipped, pushing himself out of the car wreckage, and standing proud. "If I'm not pissing people off, I'm not Michael Grey."

With two quick slices on the cars chassis, the frame had been sliced cleanly in half, and kicked forcefully into the air. Michael turned and backflipped, kicking the flaming half directly at the behemoth of a man. The car seemingly split apart again, the large blade almost impossible to see, however that didn't stop the explosion that followed, covering him in flames and smoke. Even with that, he didn't move an inch.

The struggling mercenary didn't let up, using the smoke as cover to teleport in a wicked air-dance, slicing and carving whatever was in reach. Each port brought another throb of pain as this wasn't meant to be used so frequently, but he couldn't stop. Just power on through until something broke. At this close proximity, his large sword was nearly useless despite the speed, with him gliding and kicking off its anytime it came close. More pain. More blood pooling out of his mouth. Something had to give, anything.

But it didn't.

Jason hadn't budged an inch, every wound inflicted healing faster than the lightning fast strikes could even finish carving the skin apart. A hand flew out of the smoke suddenly, wrapping around Michael's throat, and slamming him to the ground. All the air flew out of his lungs as the pavement cracked and cratered underneath. Michael lashed out again in desperation, but his machetes were grabbed by the blade, and to his horror, snapped in half like toothpicks. There was no other way to see it.

Michael had lost.

"You son of a bitch." Michael rasped, thinking of any possible insult or threat he could muster.

"Look at you. So high and mighty before, but now, you're just another sobbing victim under the boot of the apex predator." Jason mused.

"Don't fuck with me!" Michael roared, struggling to break out, only for the grip on his neck to tighten, constricting what little air he had left.

"How could I have ever respected a fraud like you? You, who never let go, who never moved on. You disgust me." He spat, letting go of his neck, and smashing his boot down into his chest. The street rumbled with his force, cars bouncing ever so slightly, and the ground underneath breaking even further. Bones cracked, but Michael couldn't tell which it was. That was it. Any hit of aura had left Michael entirely. He was vulnerable. "You let your tragedy run your life for too long. I've watched it hold you back, and trap you in a drunken stupor in a broken down bar for so many years, its vile! A survivor strong as yourself wasting away when you can do so much more… you're nothing more than a weak carcass, filling the planet with your filth!"

"I'm what I need to be. Strong." Michael gasped, trying to keep his air.

"Strong, are you?" Jason scoffed. "A man with no allies to trust, no allegiance, and no drive to make a better life? No. You're just biding your time in disgrace until you die. Mission after mission without recourse or refusal, searching for a place to rest. A waste of life through and through."

Despite everything, Michael let out a raspy laugh. "If you've caught me in the act, then by all means. Get to chopping. I've got a devil to give the finger to."

He shook his head. "Enough of this. Live on in disgrace, you worthless trash. Find someone else to fulfill your deathwish." He looked up, eyes gleaming with wonder for the future. "You won't stop this. Our world will be seen. Goodbye, Felix." With that, he walked away out of sight, leaving the mercenary alone in the cold, broken street.

Oh how odd it felt to be completely numb. With the exception of the occasional nerve shock, there was barely any feeling left in his body. So this was defeat. It tasted oddly of sweet and sour. Sure, pride was in shambles at this point, there was no question, but it was oddly different, relieving even. There wasn't a single loss to his name since the beginning of his mercenary career, and here he was, strewn across a street-side lot, discarded like a rotting piece of meat. Perhaps it was because he never thought it would happen. Defeat meant death in this life he led. But perhaps it could be something different. Who knew?

Soon, it began to get very cold, pain splintering up and down his body. It was very painful to breath, as it whatever mess left inside was being squeezed and stabbed repeatedly with a rusty icepick. Rain drops plopped into his cheeks as he stared blankly at the sky, quickly turning into a downpour. How poetic, just the heavens taking their happy piss on whatever pride the warrior had left. Was this it? Was he going to die here, alone? Strange… it didn't sound so bad.

White hair descended upon his face. Where could that have come from? In his blurred vision, he spotted an angel slowly gliding down from the heavens. Oddly enough, it was wearing the face of Winter Schnee.

"Am I getting fitted for wings yet?" Michael mused weakly before passing out.

/

Jaune didn't remember passing out, nor did he remember being moved to the hospital. The only piece of memory was feeling wet, sticky and very cold. He only laid there for a few moments before trying to jump out of the bed, before gasping out and cringing, a sharp pain in his chest forcing him back down. Oh that's right, he had been stabbed. Quite violently too. The wound had closed, but his insides seemed like they still needed some time. Time that he couldn't afford.

The very existence of the room was agitating the knight to hell and back. It was a room that was keeping him away from his duty, twisting at his nerves and making him very impatient and jittery. What the hell was he doing stuck in here? Healing was normally a quick process, so he should be out there in force, tearing through hordes to find Ruby. Teeth clenched, he tried to move again, to force any part to move without hot pokers of pain jabbing his insides, but no luck. Frustrated, he cried out, slamming his fist down on the bars next to his bed, denting it beyond repair.

"Temper temper." Ozpin said next to him, making Jaune nearly jump out of his skin. That man could teleport like Michael, Jaune just knew it...

"What are you talking about?" Jaune demanded impatiently. "Where's Ruby, is she alright? Did you find her? Is she safe? … Are you even listening to me?" He ended with a shout.

"Then again, that fault may be mine. Leaving you with an aggressive drunk." Ozpin casually said, almost like trying to avoid the topic entirely, which was starting to spook Jaune. The normally composed man was a little restless, leg bouncing in his seat. To his surprise, he sighed into his hand, shaking his head. "Who am I kidding, this was a mistake. All of this was some horrible mistake. I should have just sent you home. You may have been safer."

"Professor." Jaune took a deep breath before continuing. "Enough with the secrets and riddles. Just tell me what the hell is going on. Why didn't you just send me home? Why would you send a mercenary to watch over me knowing this might happen?"

"That was it, Jaune. This shouldn't have happened. Grey isn't very good about following orders to the letter. The job was simple. Protect you from afar. But of course, the boy wanted to add a little spice to his life and turn you into… this." Ozpin said with a mixture of sadness and anger.

Jaune scrunched his brows. "Into what?"

"A mass of trauma and regret. He's turning you into what he is." Ozpin trailed off.

"You don't know anything about him!" Jaune fired.

"Neither do you." Ozpin reasoned. "Think about it. He probably dulled out this past of his. Probably a loving family lost to the passage of time? A lost brother perhaps? But what else? What do you really know?"

Jaune's throat locked up. He couldn't think of a good answer, probably because it was true. Even back then, he suspected Michael wasn't telling him the whole story, especially with how many secrets he held.

"As I thought." Ozpin said in a low tone. "I have been informed about your abilities. It isn't some semblance lost to time, no sir. It is simply your aura. A mass concentration of aura that sparks to life from your very soul. The amount of aura you contain is absolutely staggering. It's an anomaly really. If only I had discovered this sooner. Much of this could have been avoided."

Aura? It was all aura? Jaune looked curiously at his hand, where an aurora of white coated it, sparks trailing off each finger. Pure unadulterated power right at his fingertips. Some parts felt elated, but the rest felt terrified, almost like having dozens of bombs taped to you without a killswitch. Silence followed, only the pounding rain against a dusty window.

"I called Michael in advance to make sure nothing terrible happened, as the Sidewinder incident was growing. I feared for your safety. I honestly could never have guessed Michael would have shanghaied you into his nonsense. I called a mercenary instead of a hunter because… how to put this delicately…" Ozpin trailed off once more, tapping his lips.

"They're expendable." Jaune said almost in a maliciously low tone.

Ozpin's eyes shone with a hint of regret and remorse. "That isn't how I wanted to describe it, but yes."

"Typical." Jaune muttered.

An uncomfortable silence hung over the two for a moment until he spoke again. "Mister Arc… I still can't let you stay in this mess. I'll place you under security watch with our finest. Until then, you will be placed on house arrest-"

"No."

Ozpin narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"

"I said no. Don't you see what's going on here? A complete disaster just happened in the middle of what's supposed to be safe streets, and you're just going on like nothing happened? My guess is half the city nearly got demolished. Maybe less if I'm generous." Jaune firmly said. "I can't just stand by and let this happen! I have to stand up and fight!"

"You shall do no such thing-"

"Try and stop me. If you lock me in, I'll break down whatever door you put in front of me. Plant me as a fugitive, I'll live like one until this is over. I'll keep fighting, I'll keep bleeding, and I'll keep pushing until I win, or I die trying. I don't even give a damn about your hunting license! Keep it! I don't need it to save lives! Enough with bending the knee and being weak, I'm sick and tired of it!" Jaune was nearly at his feet, gasping wheezily in pain, but still keeping his posture. "I don't care if a mistake brought me here, or some mercenary decided to use me for fun. I'm here now. And I'll finish this fight no matter what. All you have to do, is stay out of the way."

Ozpin sat silently, fingers ringed together, eyes piercing into Jaune's, however the knight wasn't backing down, not this time. He stood up, staring at his cane ponderously. "Very well. If you choose to be stubborn, I cannot stop you. However, please. Do not hesitate to reach out for help. I may have made more mistakes than any man in history, but I am not heartless. At least, I do not feel so. Your bravery is… more than recognized. In fact, if I may make this official. A mission if you will."

"Yes?" Jaune asked.

"The mission is to find and rescue Ruby Rose before the Sidewinder projects begin once again. I suspect you may have two months at most. At that point, you will have acquired knowledge and ways of infiltration. This mission cannot be failed. Understood?" Ozpin explained.

"Understood. I'll take it." Jaune said with a nod.

"Good. Good luck." Ozpin said, rising from his seat and leaving.

The moment that door closed, it was the more relieving than sleeping after a thousand sleepless nights. Being near that man felt like being crushed under the pressure of deep water. Whatever nerve that cropped up had dissipated for the moment as the natural instinct, fear, took over. What had that been? Teenage bluster? Almost suicidal levels of recklessness? Or maybe it's something as cliche as just being so in love that he would never stand to see anything happen to her. Strangely enough, the last one brought a smile to his face.

The door opened again, tension slowly welling up in Jaune's chest. Michael poked his head in, eyes hurriedly scanning the room before walking in. In the months the two had trained, Jaune had barely seen Michael with any kind of scratch or injury. The man was a living monolith of invincibility it seemed. This was not the case anymore. The mercenary came in wearing only baggy hospital pants and an open jacket, his bare chest covered in thick bandages, all the way up to his neck. Bandage lining was wrapped around his forehead, with a patch covering a dark red spot over his cheek. Michael chuckeld dryly at his surprise.

"Bet you're loving every second of this." Michael mused.

"I-I'm not-"

"I'm joking, kid. Don't pop a blood vessel over some hassle." Michael said, bopping Jaune upside the head. Even that motion made him wince. "As it turns out, the threats around us are a little more dangerous than I thought."

"Who did this to you?" Jaune asked, concerned.

"No one worth mentioning." Michael said quietly, something resembling shame in his voice. "Just some very big son of a bitch who's very good at annihilating wat little pride I have left." Jaune looked away, feeling a little more tense around him. Michael scrunched his brows. "What? Do I still have ash in my hair?"

"Nothing important." Jaune managed.

Michael clicked his tongue. "Kid, my back had just been used as a fleshy sledgehammer to pulverize asphalt on the side of the street. I am far from patient right now. Spit it out, now." he demanded.

Jaune stared at the window, trying to muster what little nerve he had left. "I don't know you."

Very eloquently put, Jaune.

Michael cocked a brow. "You don't? I thought we were pretty damn familiar over the long amount of time I spent training you."

"That's not it." Jaune said, shaking his head. "What I meant is the fact that no matter what, you'll never tell me the full story, even after you know everything about me. Don't you trust me? Is that it?"

"I don't trust anyone fully. That's…" He trailed off, staring at the monitor, deep in thought. The pair were silent for the moment. Jaune was about to give up and change the subject before Michael decided to speak again. "Fine. You win."

Jaune sat up straight, attentive and alert. Who knew whenever he would get this chance again.

"Back a few months ago, when I told you my family life… I wasn't lying. My life was simple for a while. I… where do I even begin?" Michael racked his brain, clearly not used to this. "I guess names are important here. My real name is Felix DeLeone. I lived in this small city called Mellas."

The moment that city's name was said, Jaune's chest seized up, eyes wide and fearful. That cold voice, the spiders creeping across the city-wide spiderweb, the fires surrounding its entirety, it brought nothing but shivers down his spine. He could still feel them crawling everywhere, hear the clicking of their mandibles, smell the corrosive, sickening dripping from their fangs clear as day. Michael, or should he say Felix, scoffed a little bit, looking at Jaune's expression.

"Yeah, not a very nice place. I think I was only eight years old when the fires started. It was quick, and oddly enough, very quiet. We didn't even notice something had gone very wrong until the screaming started. I was playing games with my baby brother right then." That voice made the memory sounded bittersweet, wracked with strain. It was obvious it hurt. It was even more obvious that he was trying his hardest to make even the smallest details of family happy ones. "Next thing I know, it was all gone. Everything just smelt like smoke. I couldn't breathe, or see for that matter. I just remember pushing myself out a window before it all came crashing down. I was apparently the… only one that had that idea."

Michael's voice choked. He took shuddering deep breaths, gaze darting from the crack in the drywall ceiling to the fishtank on the table, anywhere but where Jaune was. There were tears. Jaune could see them just barely. It looked so foreign. It felt like spotting droplets of rain in the middle of a desert, or angels among Grimm. This titan of a man, this champion was showing something Jaune had never seen from him before. True humanity. He wiped the tears off his cheek hastily, trying to make sure that lapse in persona wasn't seen.

"I barely remember much detail, but a few things come to mind. I remember hearing screaming, the smell of burning hair and skin. I remember screaming. I don't know what I was screaming about, or who, but I remember my throat being torched raw. Then the Arachnae came. Scores of them just… everywhere." He shuddered. "I was so scared. I was just… so terrified I didn't know what to do. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Away from them, away from this fire, away even from my burning family. And then suddenly, my aura flared up, and… I was. In a split second, I was in the forest outside the village. I ran and kept on running."

"Michael…" Jaune was completely gobsmacked. This was beyond him. Any words, any condolences was just lost under a heavy shroud of mix of pity and sympathy. This was unrelatable. Nothing could even be said to undo or stem this kind of damage. Even so, he wanted to say something. Anything that could help him, but whatever could be heard were just empty ramblings.

Michael scoffed, scolding himself under his breath, wiping away more tears. "Its funny. Even after all this time, I never stopped running. I was only pushing myself to be stronger along the way. But it's funny how fate deals you out its cards. I'm still that weak child that ran away fourteen years ago. That's the story of Felix DeLeone. It's alright kid, you don't need to say anything, I know." He sighed, leaning lackadaisy against the wall. "You're the kind of kid who would see a dying old homeless woman on the side of the street and love her unconditionally simply because it's what's best to do. You're kind, trustworthy, reckless, a little dim at times, dorky, but the most reliable kid I've ever met. It tears me up inside that everytime I look at you now, I can only picture you with the same golden eyes and black hair that… Niles had."

Michael sucked in a breath at that thought. "Sorry. Shouldn't be comparing you to the dead. It's bad luck."

"No, no, far from it." Jaune said, heart bursting out of his chest. "Honestly, staying with you has been the hardest few months of my life. But in that, I… became strong. I can make the hard choices now. I feel like I can tackle the world. I finally have the courage and drive I needed to keep going. I feel… better." He smiled.

Michael scoffed once more, out of pride rather than annoyance. "You're damn right. Back then, I practically had to force confidence into at gunpoint. Now? It's almost dangerous. Congrats, Jaune."

Jaune blinked. Did he just…

"Barring that, you have to realize something." Michael said a little sadly. "Once this contract ends, it's over. We may never see each other again, you realize that?"

Jaune's heart sank. "That can't be true, can it?"

"It may be so. I'll probably be back on the run after this. Such as the way of life for someone like me."

Jaune gripped the broken bed bar. "Even if it is, even if it's something we can't change… its been fun. Thank you for everything."

The pair exchanged smiles. "Heh… look at you, turning on my waterworks… enough of this. Don't we have a girlfriend to save?"