Don't own RWBY or Highschool DxD. Don't make a dimne outside of punching the hell out of metal then bending it to my will at a factory thats a fifteen minutes from where I live right now.
Akenos arm lashes out in a blur, whip unfurling and cracking in a single fluid motion. The tip of the whip snaps into the top of the fallen angels sternum, what few lights and electronics are visible dimming and stuttering as arcs of lightning trace the line from Akenos outstretched arm to the fallen angels exposed flesh. With a second, near-deafening crack, the fallen angel is launched back into the shop. "Rias isn't here to save you." Akeno purrs, before strutting after the fallen into the shop, idly twitching the weapon in her hand as she walks.
Nora and Pyrrha both turn to face Jaune, lightly stricken looks on their faces. The fallen lets out a shriek of pain from the ruined shop. "It's not as bad as it looks?" Nora weakly offers.
Jaune lets out a nervous huff, and draws Crocea Mors. "You're right." The girls perk up, Rens eyes still a washed out gray. "It's worse, Rias isn't here to keep her from playing with her victim too much."
Pyrrhas tired looking familiar weaves free from its hiding spot behind her ponytail, rubbing the sleep from its eyes. "What do we do? Will she be able to fight a four winged fallen on her own?"
Jaune glances at his team and scrambles for a plan. "Saber, take..." he glances at the juvenile familiar clinging to Pyrrha and looking increasingly scared.
"Théa." Pyrrha provides, resting a few fingers on the nagas trembling shoulder.
"Right, take Théa back to the dorms, then patrol the streets, at least warn us someones coming if you cant keep them away. Norra, get a boost from Wattage then have him do the same from above. Ren, have..."
When the black haired teen doesn't offer a name for his familiar after Jaunes gaze falls on him, both Pyrrha and Nora turn to face him, judgmental looks on their faces. Well, Pyrrha looks kind of sad, and moves to rest a hand on the kodama spirits illusory forms shoulder after crouching down so she could look it directly in its eyes. Nora has an exasperated 'what are you gonna do' sort of look on her face. "It's a tree spirit. Trees don't normally get names the way pets and people do. I doesn't even have a gender to start from since plants don't have those either."
"What about Adelfós, then?" Pyrrha offers, earning a small smile from the tree spirits astral projection.
Ren tilts his head "What's that translate too? My ancient Mistrali is... wait, how do I know that means Brother?"
"Forgot about devils all possessing the comprehension of language?" Jaune queries. Ren just nods, probably not trusting his mouth at the moment going by his face.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ren opens his mouth, only to have the words stolen out of it by his familiars illusory form wrapping Pyrrha up in a hug. "Well, between his reaction to the name, and the fact that he likes to make himself look like an adorable little Renny, I think it works. And that Ren forgot about how us being devils means we just kinda, understand, spoken languages." Nora chirps as Jaune nods to re-enforce her correct assumption.
A quick trio of vibrant white-yellow flashes followed by a pained scream and a throaty laugh snap the team back to reality. "Right, Adelfós, can you hide that the shop is blasted out?" The kodama nods its head eagerly. "Great, do that and stay clear of any crossfire coming out of the shop. Nora, you're on point with me. Ren, Pyrrha, ranged support. Lets take this bitch down."
As they enter the ruined shop, stepping over a mass of vines in the form of a severed arm in the process, a dazzlingly bright white flash of lightning erupts from the tip of Akenos whip as it slaps the shin of the charging fallen angel. A more skilled whip welder probably would have wrapped the charging warriors legs up with that strike. Akeno's magic, and the strength behind the strike, is still enough to knock the charging fallen to the ground.
Gritting her teeth, she launches herself to her feet again with a blast of flame. As soon as she is steady, she shifts her left foot back, and with a lazy wave of her right hand manifests and launches another claymore of light at the Priestess of Thunder. Akeno, face still calm save her small, peaceful, smile shifts her left arm across her chest, and the whitish arcs of electricity that had been dancing along it lash out, shattering the blade of light as they crash into it a handful of feet from her face. Akeno clenches her flat palm into a fist as the light construct is blocked, and the rest of her attack turns sharply to crash into the fallen angels chest.
The four winged fighter grunts in pain, and is barely able to dodge Noras wild rush. Her adroit sidestep puts her perfectly in place to be driven back by a hail of gunfire from Stormflower and Miló. At first the shots drive her back with a grunt, until she crosses her forearms in front of her chest and a curved wall of swords of light springs to life in an arch in front of her.
Akeno steps forward, lashing out with her whip, shattering the central blade. With her next step forwards, she shifts her left arm forward and snaps her whip back to her side, fingers on the free hand splayed wide and parallel to the ground. A quintet of arcing bolts of white-hot lightning leap from the limb towards the fallen angel. All but the left and rightmost defensive blades are shattered, and a few stray bolts of lightning catch the fallen, one on her left shoulder and the other her right hip.
The fallen angel continues to backpedal, her beautiful face set in a pained grimace. With a sneer she uncrosses her arms, right hand tracing a line down, then flicking the hands fingers towards the advancing group of devils. The two remaining blades rotate so that the edges, not the flats are faced outwards, before ripping towards them like man-sized buzzsaws. Jaune leaps ahead, dropping to a knee, bracing his entire body behind his shield and flaring his aura. The blade that had been set to bisect Akeno shatters on impact, inching the King backwards. Akoúo̱ whips past both Akeno and Jaune, spinning horizontally to intercept the other blade.
All at once the magical light construct shatters, Akoúo̱ darting back past Jaune, borne on a barely visible black haze, and the sound of Magnhild firing off a grenade. A pink and white blur passes where the second blade had just shattered. Nora's meteoric descent is halted by a flame-coated straight-arm that catches the ginger in the gut, and a thick layer of hoarfrost crackles to life around the point of contact. The ginger hammer-maiden uses the point of contact as a pivot point for a counter attack. Arcs of pink electricity dancing across her body, she drives Magnhild into the fallen angels chest, launching her away from the devils, and through a thick security door out into what looks to be a decent sized greenhouse.
They chase the fallen into what looks to be, or have been, rather, one of the shops staff only areas. Complete with a green decapitated head, mouth hanging open widely enough that it could likely fit an adults torso within it easily. The woman, bleeding from the side of her head, most of her exposed skin burnt or bruising is already pushing herself to her feet, a claymore of light held firmly in her left hand. Jaune hears a snap behind him, and a thick pillar of lightning descends through the greenhouse' glass towards the four winged fallen. Movements a blur, she snaps her most recent sword above her head, intercepting Akenos strike, but being driven down onto one knee.
Hair frazzled out of its lustrous curls from the repeated electrical attacks she has taken, wings twitching, the woman spits out a wad of blood, and shoves herself back to her feet, a massive blade of light in either hand. "That lighting of yours looks like something I was taught about before being deployed to Vale. Tell me, is it Holy Lightning, did Baraqiel have a little bastard?" the womans beautiful face seeming waspish with its ugly sneer and searching gaze.
Akeno's response comes in the form of three more mighty pillars of the correctly guessed attack. "Ohh, a touchy subject? Did the noble Vice Governor General have his way with a captured devil?" The taunting voice croons from the cloud of smoke formed from Akenos attacks striking the fallens crossed blades. The cloud is cleared by the loathsome woman twirling a broken blades of light, dispelling it and summoning two more. Jaune wants to intervene, knowing that the woman is just trying to get under Akenos skin.
She tilts her head at Akenos silence, eyes searching. Jaune spares another glance at Akeno, her smile gone, face blank; and motions for his team to back up. They'll just get caught in the crossfire if they try to help. "A human woman then? Hmm, did she save the noble warrior from some underhanded sneak attack and melt his heart, or did she sacrifice everything to nurse a dying servant of Heaven back to health?"
"You're going to stop asking about my family now." Akeno coldly intones, more and more lightning arcing from her arms and legs. Only Nora is taking the risk of even being near the doorway the foreign devil is still standing in. The fallen angel smiles, its a toothy, predatory thing. One that promises pain and tears.
"Does mommy loooove the holy traitor? Are you off on a quest to bring papa back home? Or did she die because daddy dearest wasn't around to keep his family safe from all of those enemies he made joining the ranks of the Fallen?" Whatever reaction the four winged fallen had been expecting to get, it most likely wasn't a wordless howl of rage. The devil she had been taunting ruses at her, first propelled by the blinding glare of the power built up in her legs being discharged, then by a mismatched set of wings, the left a black feathered match to one of hers, the right the spindly, bat-like appendage of a devil.
Akeno crashes into the full blooded fallen angel, shattering her swords of light as the holy lightning built up in Akenos arms clashes with the blades in a pair of backhanded blows. She tackles the taller, fuller figured woman to the ground.
Then the screaming starts.
Whitish blue wisps of aura trailing from Akenos wings, down along her arms and into the prone fallen. That same light pouring from her eyes, mouth, ears, every orifice that can be seen.
Her back arches, and the continuous wail of agony goes hoarse.
Then it falls silent.
The woman goes limp again after the silent scream stretches on for a truly uncomfortable amount of time. The Remnant natives, react as they had been trained since youth to when dealing with a runaway semblance. Well, three had been trained from youth, and Jaune had been recently brought up to speed. They take care to do nothing to startle the one whose semblance had just been unlocked, lest they worsen the situation.
Jaune, having known Akeno the longest and being the person most trusted by her present, carefully makes his way over to Akeno. Aura flared fully, he rests his hand on her shoulder. She doesn't respond, so he gives her a gentle shake. She turns her head to blink owlishly up at him. After nearly a minute she shifts to glance around as if she doesn't know where she is, or what had been happening. The empty eyed fallen is lightly twitching beneath her.
All motion stops again after Jaune helps his friend up off of the ground and away from the seemingly broken woman. Pyrrha makes her way over to their now insensate foe, kneels and rests a hand on the side of her neck. Pyrrha frowns and looks at the woman after standing up, probably having found a pulse, if the incredibly fast, barely perceptible rising and falling of her chest is any indicator. Akeno takes a few steps away from Jaune as soon as he has her on her feet. The girl quickly starts taking slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself.
"Soooo, Daddy issues?" Nora prompts long after the silence had stretched, once again, to the point of uncomfortableness. Not that standing around in a ruined shop surrounded by the brutalized remains of a grotesquely mutated stray, and the not-corpse of its killer isn't already uncomfortable.
Akeno's response to the off-color quip is a shock to no one in the room. Well, maybe it shocks Nora. Still, Akeno slapping the bombastic girl is an understandable reaction. Nora, a huntress in training who's no stranger to getting hit, howling in pain from the blow, blue-white light spilling from her eyes and mouth as she does so, is. More worrying is that Nora stumbles back from the blow. She's held her ground in the face of haymakers from Yang, and, devil or not Akeno really shouldn't have the strength to move Nora from where she stood. Surprise or not. Akeno goes rigid, eyes shooting wide open at Noras reaction to her, justified, rebuke.
Thankfully, the apparent pain, and light pouring out of Nora stops as soon as Akenos hand is clear of the other girl. "I'm sorry! I, I didn't mean to-" Akeno, having rushed forward to rest her hand on Noras shoulder, cuts herself off when the other girl leaps away from her.
Face beet red, holding herself way more still than is natural, Nora manages to stutter out "W-what did you just, umm, what did, I mean, er..."
Ren looks first at Akeno, then the insensate fallen angel, and finally his partner. "Severe emotional duress is one of the more unfortunately common ways for a person with an unlocked aura to obtain their semblance." The taciturn huntsman makes his way over to Nora, who actually steps away from the man she is usually more than eager to hang off of, her blush deepening.
"Nora, could you describe what whatever Akeno did to you felt like? It will probably help her figure out what her semblance is." Jaune prompts after the group once again falls silent and, mostly, still.
After a few minutes more of silence, Nora has herself mostly under control. Ren forcing the issue and awkwardly wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders had probably helped. "The first thing she did felt like... like all my veins were on fire but frozen, and my bones were all broken all over with all my tendons tore up and being covered in cuts that got salt rubbed in them and just..." She takes a breath, her usual disposition coming more and more back to the front. "Pain. It hurt, more than anything I've ever felt, and all over and all at once."
"What about the second time she touched you with her semblance active?" Pyrrha presses, glancing awkwardly at the still unmoving Fallen, like she had been pretty regularly since the fight had been ended.
Nora shifts back and forth on her feet, and looks away from Ren when she mumbles out "whatevertheoppositeofthefirstonewas."
That earns the two girls in question some curious looks from the other three devils in the now silent greenhouse. "Maybe, something to do with peoples nervous system? Pain and pleasure receptors?"
That supposition sets Akeno pacing, and muttering something about Rias, Issei and testing. Pyrrha, once again looks over to the insensate Fallen. "What, what about her?"
Jaune walks over to the woman in question and draws his blade. He raises it to finish the Fallen off, not liking what he is about to do, but not really seeing many other good options. He is spared the distasteful act when the woman goes utterly still, and the scent of human waste begins to waft into the room. Between all of the powerful electrocutions she had sustained fighting Akeno, and the prolonged - nearly ten minute long - direct assault on her nervous system, it doesn't take a doctor to discern what had done the woman in. You may need one to figure out which organs, precisely, had failed or misfired and how that had lead to her death, but the result is all that really matters right now.
"So, what about the bodies?" Nora quips, leaning into Ren, who startles, tries to give his partner some space, only to find that she now has his arm held in place by both of Noras hands, which are wrapped around his wrist. Pyrrha pokes Noras shoulder as she walks past her, upturning her palms as two tongues of deep crimson to acid purple fire shriek to life in her hands. A few waves of her arms, and the fire lashes out, swiftly rendering the remains of the fallen and stray to a fine, powdery ash.
By the time the group of devils reach the front door of the flower shop, all traces of battle and the supernatural are gone. When the poor owner shows up in the morning, it will look like they had been the victim of a mundane breaking and entering, not the unwilling host of a supernatural death-match. After a police investigation, their insurance will cover the damages. Probably.
Both Nora and Rens familiars swiftly rejoin them, the former alighting on his masters shoulder, the latter trailing off to its masters unoccupied left side. Once again just a group of teens, and ones younger brother, out for an early evening stroll. They reach a hill leading up towards the bullhead docks eventually, not a terribly steep one, but the incline is noticeable nonetheless. "Does, does it get easier?" Pyrrha asks, breaking the calm silence that the group had fallen into after their, technically, successful stray hunt.
It doesn't take a genius to guess that the champion fighter was talking about killing. He'd been ready to end the life of a prone, defenseless enemy, who's mind had been, at least temporarily, broken by Akeno. "No. At least, not if you want to hold on to your humanity it doesn't. How you cope with what comes after gets easier after a while. Same with accepting why you had to." Pyrrha nods at that, and steps a little closer to Jaune as they walk, well within arms reach, though she keeps hers clasped in front of her.
The gentle hill gives way to a combined set of stairs and a handicap access ramp a few minutes later. The stairs are pretty crowded, mostly with people about the right age to be either the huntsmen in trainings parents or younger siblings walking down them. Hoping to save time, the devils start walking up the ramp towards the waiting bullheads. A gap-toothed kid in a loose brown t-shirt boldly declaring 'I do my own stunts' and gray shorts with both legs in casts, shaggy brown hair covering most of his eyes appears at the ramps top. He pulls back on the grips of his wheelchair, and launches himself down the ramp, cackling like a madman. Both Akeno and Jaune have to leap to their left to avoid getting run over by the crazy brat. Jaune lands fine, Akeno slips and falls on dry concrete.
Sitting on the ground, rubbing her probably sore butt, the raven haired girl goes still when her eyes fall on the months too early patch of glare-ice extending from where she would have landed to Noras left foot. She shifts around to direct a pouty glare at the other girl. Grinning, the ginger tilts her nose in the air in her best imitation of Weiss. "I deserved the slap. What you did afterwards while your semblance was still active is the sort of thing you ask a girl about before you go and do it anyways."
"I didn't even know I could do that when it happened!"
"It's called consent, Akeno. Get a dictionary." Ren starts circling his right arm to stretch it out now that his partner is looming over her friend, hands planted on her hips, instead of holding his limb hostage. His left arm is pinching the bridge of his nose, head hung low. Pyrrha giggles into her hand, and Jaune rolls his eyes. All in all, the day had went well.
_-*R-DxD*-_
Headmaster Ozpin is sitting in his desk, hands steepled and elbows planted firmly on its well polished top. Back straight, and face placid. Outwardly, he is perfectly calm as he watches the floor indicator for the elevator leading to his office slowly tilts to the right. Its sole occupant either ignorant or uncaring of the turmoil his arrival had brought. While Ozpin is not panicking, as some of the more reactionary or easily swayed Valeans are, he is certainly less than happy.
A sip of cocoa to help keep himself in check. Outwardly, he will remain calm. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open, disappearing into the crème colored walls with barely a sound. James, dressed in a neatly pressed pair of white slacks, and white suit-jacket hanging open save for the collar with a captains bars in gold on the lapels over a black sweater. A gray vest following the contour of his ribs is sandwitched between the shirts. His first few steps from the elevator are energetic, nearly bouncing, a wide grin on his face. By the time he is a quarter of the way to Ozpins desk, the grin has fallen from his face. At the halfway mark his gait slows to a slow crawl.
By the time be reaches the space in front of Ozpins desk and fallen to a stiff parade rest, his face is caught between contrite and uncertain. "James, when I informed you that I had additional business to discuss with you before the Vytal Festival, I was prepared to be, annoyed, at you for having brought a military presence with you. At best I had expected you to arrive on your personal cutter. I understand yours is larger and less elegant than Specialist Schnees. It would have served as a powerful and subtle reminder to Salem and her forces that you and I are close confidants, and her recent spike in activity had not gone unnoticed. At worst, I thought you may have come with several of those new Carchadon class Cruisers you had the Atlesian airfleet transition to for a main-line warship after your promotion to general. It would have caused a stir, been far less subtle a message, but the people would have been easily calmed."
"Ozpin, I-"
"Decided to make the journey to Vale on the Pride of Solitas of all ships, and brought her entire fleet element for an escort." Ozpin cuts his friend off, determined to let the full weight of his displeasure at his long time friend be known before they move on to the actual reason for this meeting. "Which, if you remember your history, General Oswald personally observed the last time she menaced Vales skies. He was commanding the battle from a forward observation post when she put four holes in the walls that keep the grimm out of the kingdom where mountains and oceans cannot. How he seethed at the steps that had to be taken to repel the Atlesian troops that poured through those wounds. How bitter the taste, and heart-wrenching the decision was for him to have to form the Valean Auric Commandos, and join the rest of Remnants powers in directing the gift that allows us to hold the Grimm at bay to harm our fellow men."
Ironwood is at full attention now, face tight, wincing with each sentence. "It took almost a decade after the Great War had ended for those holes in the wall to be repaired. We carved memorials into our side of the wall, as the difference in coloration due to age difference between original fortification and patch left the latter glaringly noticeable. The rightmost patch was engraved with the name of each soldier who died during the Siege of Vale. The leftmost bears the emblem of each huntsman and huntress who gave their lives holding the breaches before and during the repair process, we couldn't fit all of their names, you see. The inner patches, of course were dedicated to the civilian losses. One for those history now remembers as collateral damage and the other for those slain by grimm."
For nearly a minute, the only sound in the office is the ticking of his clock, and the gentle grinding of the decorative gears. "The people of Vale remember the Pride of Solitas, James. And that memory is not a happy one, nor have some of the more fringe elements of the kingdoms society forgiven her."
Both men remain silent for several breathless moments, until the General, backsliding to the mannerisms of the chastised Private, nods his understanding. Ozpin gestures at one of the seats in front of his desk, which James bonelessly slumps into, legs sprawled out in front of him, right elbow resting on the chairs arm, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And General Oswald, Oz, to his friends, retired his commission at the Great Wars end to found Beacon Academy. He spent the remainder of his life pushing for the Valean Auric Commandos to be disbanded as a no longer necessary relic of humanities darkest chapter in recent memory." He slams his flesh and blood fist into the side of his seat. "I even had the Duty loaded into one of the Pride's service hangars!"
Ozpin finally offers the, chronologically, younger man a wan smile. "Then, unless your taste in brandy, or habit of keeping your personal ships officers lounge stocked with your favorites has changed, I would be happy to retire to it to catch up on personal matters once business has been seen to. We all make mistakes James"
Ironwood lets out a half forced chuckle "Excuse me if the platitude you have been offering students for decades is slightly less effective when offered to one of the most powerful men on Remnant. One who should have damn well known better at that."
Ozpin offers his friend a rueful smile "A mistake, yes, but one we can use once Salems agents give us cause."
Ironwood tilts an eyebrow at that, he is still tense, but not so tightly wound that he is unconsciously suppressing any emotion from showing openly. "Oh? You plan to let Atlesian troops openly operate in Vale?"
Ozpin lets his glasses slide down his nose to offer his at-times overzealous friend a reproaching glare. "On secondment to the Valean army in all operations save civilian outreach displays." Ironwoods face begins to shift to anger, but he waves the general off. Before the mans paranoia can claim his mouth. "Don't start James, it would be a single Auric Commando with smaller groups, or a small compliment of Valean soldiers with larger patrols and only after Salems forces give the Council reason to demand security for the Festival be transferred to you."
"So, the Queens activity hasn't dropped off since Amber was attacked?"
Ozpin takes another gentle sip from his mug "Oh, no. Nothing has been directly traceable to her. White Fang activity, gang wars, mob and mafia schemes, the dark side of humanity is all but ablaze in Vale of late. And you know as well as I how much of an opportunist Salems followers must be to remain in that monsters good graces."
James shifts in his seat, straightening back up, crossing his legs, uncrossing them again and finally pushing himself up out of his seat. He stalks over to the serving table next to the hidden drinks cabinet. Without uttering a word, he pulls the tall faux porcelain percolator from the back of the table and the mug with his personal emblem – Atlas' crest in steel gray and trimmed in ice blue as opposed to plain black -before filling it mostly with coffee. Forgoing the assortment of additives waiting to be added on the table, he pulls the flask from one of his jackets inner pockets and adds a measure of the alcohol within, takes a sip from the flask itself, then returns it to his jacket as he walks back to the seat he had claimed. "So it's safe to assume that something will happen, but we don't have any reliable means of knowing what, when, where or how many times."
"Hence, my wanting us ready to act, openly, as soon as we are given cause to do so."
James takes a long drink from his self-spiked drink, barks out a cough, shakes his head, and replies "I take it that there is more yet?" He leans back into the chair, flesh and blood hand holding his mug off the left side of the armchair by the vessels handle.
Ozpin nods. "General Pewter has been insistent that I speak to you on his plans for a modified export variant of the old one-thirty line Atlesian Knight in light of the two hundred series immanent deployment for months now. I suspect your research and development people would call them the AK one-fiftey, but the good General seems fixated on calling them Valean Ritters. It would be in Remnants best interest if you accept his proposal at face value; I have thoroughly vetted it, don't worry. The second favor he is relentless in his attempts to convince me to call in from you I will leave to you to negotiate, agree with or deny as you see fit. He wants to either rent or commission Atlas' Airshipyards for a cousin ship to the Pride of Solitas."
Ironwood leans forward, tucking his feet under the table and pressing his elbows into his knees. "Oz, what you have told me since I entered this office is far from what I have known you to require to move this quickly and openly. What's gone wrong?"
He shakes his head "Nothing has gone explicitly wrong. However, over the course of the first semester, it came to my attention that a separate threat to the peace and prosperity of our world may not be as self contained and benign as I had thought it was. As a result, I am no longer entirely convinced that this generation will live the peaceful of lives I had predicted while they were being born. I called you here today to bring you up to speed on the matter in question."
"Winter." Ozpin cocks an eyebrow, but remains silent. "If you plan to drag me, and Atlas' resources into this second conspiracy, I want Winter included in our circle for the war against Salem."
Ozpin maintains his outward calm, and slowly counts down from ten in his head. "James, we have had this discussion before. It is not an issue of national representation, but placement and ability to affect our struggle balanced against the need for secrecy. Miss Schnee is capable and intelligent, but-"
"Gods-damnit Oz! She's the Colonel of the Specialist corps! You know as well as I that any ranks aside from 'specialist' are top secret outside of the corps. And for me to reveal who the current commander of said corps is, even to the Headmaster of one of the Huntsman academies, is borderline high treason. She isn't just my right hand and likely successor, but an individual who is perfectly placed and able to seek out Salems machinations and minions then end them. Decisively and without drawing attention to Salems existence. With your current intent to divide my attentions even further, Atlas needs another person who knows the truth." The general slams his fist onto his desk, splintering the glass, either in frustrated anger or a desire to drive his point home as he growls out the last sentence.
Ozpin remains seated, unmoved by James outburst, and thinks as the grinding of gears and ticking of clocks again dominates the cavernous office. He dislikes soldiers, but that is a personal preference, and far from an absolute. James is not the first General he has worked with in his war with Salem. Winters family would be troubling, had she not so thoroughly estranged herself from the source of his misgivings in regards to the current generation of Schnees. Working with Nicholas had been both pleasant and productive. His successor, however, is not only one of the most powerful men on the planet, but one would be a trifle for Salem to turn should she wish to. If she did, Ozpin does not doubt that he would quickly become one of her most devastating tools.
As the commander of Remnants most elite special forces unit, Winter would be an invaluable asset. The womans only real tie to her family is her younger sister, who is developing into a fine young huntress far from their fathers sphere of influence. The more he thinks on the matter, the less he doubts that Winter would be able to do what is necessary should Jacques' worrisome actions of late be the worst case scenario, not food for the tabloids. "Very well. When she arrives for the Vytal Festival, bring her to my office and you and I-" James glare truly is a formidable thing when his mind is set on something, and he knows he is in the right "...will bring her to the vault with the others, and tell her the full truth." Save that shameful secret only he and Raven know, currently.
James nods, and relaxes back into his seat, taking a drink from his mug. Ozpin presses one of the buttons under his desk, signaling to Phanuel that he is ready. A familiar flare of yellow teases the right side of his vision as his long-time friend and confidant teleports into the office. Moments later, Professor Port steps into his peripheral vision. Ironwood spits the contents of his mouth out in an impressive spray, nearly getting the wall to his right wet. Phanuel then releases his illusion, the shimmering heat-haze replacing the portly, somewhat oafish professor stuffed into a poorly cut red abomination with a fit man at the tail end of his middle years in an expertly cut and fitted maroon suit. Plainly combed white hair and bushy mustache are replaced with shoulder length curling black locks and a fu manchu. All eight of his wings folded against his back, but not hidden.
It takes nearly five minutes before Ironwood moves from the position he had frozen in after spitting his drink out and Phanuel had dismissed his illusion for the general to respond. "P-Professor Port?"
Smiling, the fallen angel walks behind Ozpin to circumvent the wet patch on the floor and claim the chair to James' left. He turns it so that is facing both Ozpin and Ironwood equally before lazily settling into it. "Phanuel, actually. Leader of the fallen angels of Remnant. Or, at least the welcome ones."
"Fallen angels?"
Ozpin nods "Yes, the entire situation is something of a mess, so I will start with the fact that Remnant is not the only world inhabited by humans, faunus, or other sentient beings. Before you ask, no, the fallen are not aliens, or from space."
Phanuel nods "The two most noteworthy known worlds, currently, are Earth and the Underworld. The former is primarily inhabited by humans who are unaware of the Underworld, other planes of existence, Remnant, or the fact that they share their world with a myriad of other species, many of which poses supernatural abilities."
"The latter," Ozpin picks up the explanation, him and Phanuel having planned for this exact moment for centuries, seamlessly. "serves as a stopper for Hell. Yes, that Hell, one of several known planes of existence, though none dwell there willingly."
Phanuel rests his left ankle across his knee, idly bouncing the limb and continues "Earth has had many different pantheons of deities over the centuries, all of them far more active than the Brother Gods of Remnant. Over time, a singular deity rose to power, and took hold of Heaven for himself."
"However, he was betrayed by his right hand, one Lucifer Morningstar, along with a host of his followers, who took up residence in the Underworld after being cast from Heaven, becoming Devils."
"The war carried on, the angels and devils constantly vying for supremacy, though the latter did still try to perform their God-given task of aiding and protecting the humans ignorant of the war being waged out of their sight. This lead to, frustration, within the Hosts of Heaven. Some of the angels began to act on their own, taking more and more drastic actions in their attempts to defeat the forces of the Underworld."
"Eventually, we too were cast from Heaven, losing our halos, wings shifting from white to black. Otherwise we retained all of the same skills and abilities. Attacking the devils out of hatred and need for a place to call home, and the angels of Heaven in self defense and for revenge."
Ozpin makes a placatory shushing gesture as Ironwoods mouth opens, eyes alight with questions and worry. "Thus began a three way war that savaged what had been the dominant forces of the supernatural world for centuries. The low birth rate of all three species, and casualties sustained in the war slowly driving all three closer and closer to extinction as the other pantheons and supernatural forces either moved back into the once again open spaces, or declaring for one side or another."
"Not all of the combatants remained as, stridently loyal to the cause as others." Phanuel intones "One of the more powerful Fallen had become quite disillusioned with the constant warfare and death, and lead a group of wounded, war-weary soldiers, scared children and tired elders to a portal of sorts. One that lead to another, at the time, unknown, world."
"Where he swiftly met with a reincarnating wizard who had, a few short generations ago, finally decided to stop wallowing and fight back." Ozpin concludes, a slight grin on his face. "You have questions."
Phanuel raises clears his throat, looking almost sheepish. "I was able to contact Governor General Azazel earlier today, and there is more to the story that we can confirm. The original Satan, along with God were killed in the fighting some time after I left for Remnant. There was a bloody civil war amongst the Devils, which was won by the younger, more progressive faction, leading to a ceasefire – which was not truly obeyed – a century ago from their perspective. One of the archangels now maintains Heavens system in secret, and the three factions signed a proper armistice just over a decade ago, which forced the most militant factions from all three sides underground. They have been working towards a proper alliance, but Remnant may change the nature of it. Azazel would like to meet with us before those negotiations begin."
Ironwood blinks owlishly at the pair of vastly older men for almost a minute before he collects his thoughts enough to ask "Just how long do angels and devils live?"
"They are closer to immortal than most, but not so near to that curse as Salem or I. Ten thousand years is the number most accept as the expected lifespan."
Ironwood looks over to Phanuel "Just how many of Beacons staff-" He cuts himself off, shakes his head, and starts again "How closely have you and Oz been working since you came to Remnant?"
The fallen angel shrugs nonchalantly. "The first few centuries I was beyond busy working to find a place for my people to settle. It is incredibly difficult to create a maintainable system to keep a growing population of nearly immortal beings hidden in plain sight, happy and comfortable." Ozpin really wishes it wouldn't be terribly unprofessional and insulting to grab a picture of Ironwood. Sadly, the damage that would be done to his working relationship and friendship from such a disrespectful act far outweighs the modicum of entertainment he could glean from a memento of the look on James' face right now. It isn't just his desperate drive to remain professionally impassive while processing a worldview shattering reveal on par with the existence of Salem. Nor is it simply the twitching of the career officer trying to work out the logistical and morale nightmare of the situation Phanuel had, successfully, worked through centuries ago in his head. Nor is it solely the dawning dread in his young friends eyes knowing that what he has been told already is far from the last bombshell that he will endure before leaving this office, or how he had shifted to rest his elbow on his chairs arm, his chin rested on the braced arms fist to keep his jaw from falling open.
It is the sort of look that one might get to see once, maybe twice in a generation. And he will only get to see it this once. Truly, the needs and desires of immortals aren't properly met by modern society. A scrapbook of looks like the one his confidant is currently sporting would be immeasurably helpful in him staying sane and focused on his task. Perhaps a collection of recordings as well. Mister Arcs response to how Initiation was started had been equally satisfying. "After he had his people settled, I have had Phanuels undivided support in one way or another every other generation, barring emergencies."
James shakes his head, a more perfect mask of calm falling over his features, blinks, and snaps his head to his right to glare at the fallen angel. "Ever since Beacons' founding, the Grimm Studies professor has been a talented huntsman who apprenticed outside the city, and only came to Beacon after he had passed his prime to pass on his knowledge with regular frequency. Nearly to a one for one ratio with Beacon graduates."
Phanuel nods, a twinkle in his eyes. "Humans age and die, so my identities each grew old and did so. Slowly, but at a believable rate. When the time for an alias to die quietly in retirement, I seek out my most skilled, knowledgeable student from that lifetime, and induct them to Ozpins circle, as well as recommend they take my place as Beacons Grimm Studies professor."
Ironwoods hand shifts to stroke his chin in thought, his posture straightening, mask of calm slowly shifting to true ease. "A solid, maintainable system. We can discuss the minutiae and trivia at will later. What do I need to know to be helpful currently?"
Ozpin nods. "Phanuels Teacher Assistant, Rojoa is one of his most skilled Inquisitors, and handling the legwork of our investigation into current supernatural activity at Beacon, cooperating with any requests made on that front is highly recommended."
"Phanuel aside, what activity is there to speak of?"
Ozpins takes a steadying breath, and closes his eyes as he collects his thoughts. He will freely admit he had mismanaged to situation initially, and it had cost several students their lives. "Jaune Arc is a devil. I did not realize this until Cardin Winchester, an exorcist in training, began to actively move against him. The first noteworthy consequence of this was the near death of Pyrrha Nikos at the hands of one of Winchesters fallen angel handlers. I confronted Phanuel after the incident."
The fallen angel shifts to direct the entirety of his gaze at Ironwood. "I had promised to refrain from training any human or faunus exorcists due to their tendency to zealotry when I led my people to Remnant. I also promised to not make any aggressive moves against any other supernatural individuals outside my own, effectively setting Remnant up as a neutral world apart from the Three Way War preemptively should any others follow me and mine. By the time Ozma and I had a firmer grasp on the situation, all of team Juniper had become as devils, and Sky Lark had been killed and replaced with a fallen angel utilizing an uncommon but useful magical focus."
Ironwood frowns "Have you confronted Juniper, or made any moves against Lark or team," he pulls out his scroll, rapidly tapping away at its screen. He slides the device back into his pocket just as quickly. "Cardinal?"
"No." Ozpin answers plainly.
"Why. Not?"
Ozpin shrugs "There have been no murders or crimes out of the ordinary amongst the civilian population, nor any individuals whose souls have been stolen. All four of the devils are attending Beacon honestly and within the spirit of the academy. I intend to let them graduate, so that the ties they are forming can bind, then bring them into our circle in the war against Salem. As to the fallen impersonating the late Sky Lark, from what Phanuel and I have been able to glean, mister Arc and his team will have the impostor permanently dealt with before the year ends. At that point, Rojoa can manage the remainder of team Cardinal, either impersonating a member of the Myriad, or openly under our command."
Ironwood pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed "Netting us four more near immortal, potentially powerful, assets with minimum inve-" His eyes snap open, and he turns his head to glare at Ozpin. "Amber."
Ozpin nods calmly. Phanuel, smiling, interjects "Either Miss Nikos or Miss Valkyrie would make an excellent maiden. Much like Miss Polendinia, should that project produce your most optimistic projected results. Back to the thrust of our issues, the images we were able to capture of team Junipers battles against the fallen indicated that we are not dealing with a rogue element of my people, but a separate force that arrived on Remnant just under two hundred years before I did. Which means they have been operating in secrecy for nearly twenty-five hundred."
"What do we know about this faction?"
The reincarnated wizard opens his mouth, but closes it again after pausing to think. He reaches to one of the drawers that run from the top to the bottom of the pillars holding his desk up. With a pulse of aura he unlocks the topmost, opens it and spares a glance down into it to pick out the right scroll to hand over to the general. There are only seven of them in the drawer, each of them bulky, heavy, first generation examples of the device, decades old and long relieved of any uses save basic text and image storage. Each of them holding comprehensive repositories of information on a different subject kept secret from the general populace. Salem has one, the maidens and relics another. A third is devoted to the Brother Gods and magic.
What had been the forth is now a comprehensive treatise on fallen angels, every scrap of information Phanuel had been able to give to him over the centuries. Three other scrolls, recently added to his store of secrets from the small hoard of archaic, mostly gutted communication devices, sitting in a crate at his home waiting to be added to the drawer in his office, now cover devils, Heavens hosts, and the other, smaller, supernatural power blocs worth noting.
Ozpin takes the scroll devoted to fallen angels, pulls up Phanuels report on the Myriad of Destruction, and hands the device to Ironwood. The general snags the scroll almost aggressively before hunching over to read. At first, his face is placid, his eyes betraying a thirst for information. As the minutes tick past, the patient demeanor Phanuel and he shared when James took the scroll drains from the fallen angels features. The Atlesians shift to agitated concern only moving slightly slower. Once a half an hour has past, Phanuels right knee is bouncing up and down, and his right hand is tapping away on the opposite knee. Not long after, the bored fallen breaks the near-silence "I'm surprised that the good general didn't question my calling you by your true name, Ozma."
He shoots a reproachful look at his restless friend. "I was friends with James well before becoming an immortal wizard. He knows that I did not always respect my hosts enough to keep their names after our personalities had merged." Granted, 'subsumed' would be a more accurate descriptor than merge. However the parasitic connotations the more accurate verbiage communicates make finding intelligent and adept allies far more difficult than is necessary for such a small measure of openness.
Glowering at nothing in particular, Ironwood tucks the scroll into his left armpit. "Ozpin as he is now, is far more respectful and caring. After he realized that he and the wizard would become the same being" that Ozpin would become but another facet in the far larger existence that is Ozma "he retreated to the far reaches of the mind he resided within, and let me and my best friend enjoy the last month we could have the way things were when we were kids in peace. He hasn't asked about The Cruise, Menagerie, or his child support payments." He doesn't need to, the memories are his now, if he cares to find out. "But that isn't why we're here. Ozpin, do you mind if I take this scroll back to my hotel room? There's more to digest on it than is reasonable for the two of you to wait for me to read through."
He'd like to tell himself that the lie of omission as to how absent he had actually been for that last month hurts. But after watching through more hosts than he cares to recall 'enjoy' their last bit of time as themselves before the curse of the Brother of Light necessitates that Ozma control his body and relegates its original holder to that of a slowly fading voice in the back of his mind. "Of course, James. Just return the scroll to me once you have read through it, and keep it on your person at all times."
The general nods, jostling the piece of technology under his arm for a more comfortable hold, before turning his attention back to Phanuel. "Your brief on the Myriad was both impartial and troubling. Approximately two thousand soldiers and an unknown number of camp followers gone. What are your personal thoughts on them?"
Phanuels eyes bore into Ironwoods "Noteworthy for its discipline, rigid solidarity amongst its members and single minded drive towards achieving their objective. The only times what they were aimed at was not utterly destroyed, the force was nearly wiped out. I cannot see Lord Dummah having let that change by much over the millenia." He leans back, eyes closed, mouth set in a scowl. "I'm still curious as to how he was able to hide that many people so easily. Things may have been chaotic then, but..."
"Phanuel, I was unable to see past my own self pity until shortly before you arrived. Salem had functional free reign across Remnant, and you seem to have forgotten just how many secluded regions of Remnant are both uninhabited and would make excellent places for a civilization to settle in. Kuroyuri Pass, Mountain Glenn, the Tundras of Solitas or Vacuan Wastes, Northern Menagerie, Sanus' southern islands and Animas eastern peninsula all come to mind quite readily."
"You're leaving out the most troubling option." Ironwood interjects "The Grimmlands. "
_-*R-DxD*-_
Ren has been more or less stationary since returning to the small clearing his team uses for sparring, and as a jumping off point for their late night grimm hunts at the heart of the desecrated ground Jaune had established in response to Suriels zealotry. Jaune and Pyrrha are both dripping sweat, training swords and shields held a bit more sloppily than is usual as they circle each other, each grinning widely. The ground around them is all bare dirt, freshly churned from the hours of sparring the pair is coming to the close of. They launch at each other, wooden swords and shields thumping loudly off of each other, or softly off flesh when one or the other scores a hit.
Its just past midnight, so once Nora returns from her last summoning they'll all be headed back to the dorms for some shut-eye. Both Jaune and Pyrrha are wearing athletic shorts, the former having taken off his shirt at some point since they had started sparring while he and Nora went out to hopefully form new contracts. Pyrrha is still wearing the gray tank top she had chose for the night of sparring, but the thin fabric has gone nearly see-through from the sweat and is clinging tightly to her body, her crimson sports bra fairly clearly visible as a result.
As the Invincible Girl scores a lucky hit, having snaked her blade around Jaunes guard to sweep his legs out from under him. She digs another furrow out of the roughly churned, mostly circular 'sparring ring' that had developed since the team had moved their extra-curricular activities out of their dorm room in the process. Both Jauens sword and shield bite into the dirt moments later as he is flipped onto his back. Before Jaune can recover, Pyrrhas training sword is held calmly at his throat, both of their chests heaving, smiles unbroken.
A flare of light draws his attention to his right, his reflexes having been good enough that he catches the tail end of Nora teleporting back to the plinth that had their largest permanent transportation circle carved into it. Clad in blue jeans and a t shirt, much like him, his best friend wastes no time in stomping towards him, a grumpy scowl on her face. She throws herself at the ground once she gets to the the tree he has been leaning against, turning as she falls to land, legs spread and arms wide open on her back at his feet. "Worst. Wednesday. Ever." She grumps, eyes unfocusedly cast towards the sky.
"No contracts?"
"Nope." She pops the p, a habit she had mostly picked up from Ruby and Yang, then hefts a decent sized burlap sack, presumably filled with the profits of her night of forming pacts. "Got three pacts. Cedar needed some help again." Ren nods, already understanding his partners frustration. A request to model for an artists inst inherently sexual, so it's still Nora, not a 'specialist' that gets summoned when he has that in mind. Which he regularly does when summoning Nora. From what she has told him, he has remained polite about her refusals thus far. Which is good for him. "Not talking about my second contract, but it worked out."
Ren offers a questioning hum and pointed look at his best friend for a response to that. Nora blows her bangs out of her eyes, cheeks gaining a cute dusting of pink in the process. "A girl wanted help getting her crush to notice her. She has a date on Friday now." Ren is very, very glad he is good at keeping his emotions in check without using his semblance. He's noticed her hints, but is utterly terrified of ruining what they have now if they don't work out as well romantically as he'd like to hope they would.
The silence of his reply and non-reaction to that statement and hint hangs for nearly a minute. Nora eventually breaks the silence by adding "Then I got summoned by some orphan kids. The maintenance guy had put their ticket back inside after curfew away on them, and the lady who ran the place was gonna pass where they normally sneak out and in on her nightly rounds any minute. They'd broke a window trying to get back in anyways, and two were cut up pretty bad."
"And how did you help the poor kids?" Pyrrhas lyrical voice interjects as she and Jaune make amble to a halt, a sweat-damp towel in her left hand, while Jaunes t-shirt and towel are slung around his neck. Both of them are still smiling, and flushed from exertion. While he and Nora hunt grimm when its the other pairs turn to answer the new summons in attempt to get more regulars, boosting their standing by fulfilling the minuscule pacts offered by Jaunes 'good luck charm' scheme, Jaune and Pyrrha spend their more free nights with brutal, hours-long sparring sessions. Since they seem to enjoy it, he doesn't see any reason to press for any deeper reasons. Confirmation that the pleasant, polite girl isn't entirely over having been toyed with by the first fallen angel she fought before her death and reincarnation isn't something he would like to get.
Grinning, the ginger chirps "Unlocked the two kids with cut up arms aura then tossed them all through the window." Jaune levels a judgmental, albeit exasperated look at the girl. "Dont look at me like that boss, fears a perfectly normal reason for someone to unlock their aura. Getting caught having broken a window and maybe getting put on the streets as good a reason as getting too close to a grimm by yourself."
"What happened after that?" Ren presses, sliding down the tree to sit in the grass, legs outstretched, nearly tapping Noras side with his toes.
"They lowered a rope to pull me up into their room. I showed them some of the stuff Renny and I learned after we got picked up in Vale, but were to young to start Signal and live in the dorms there." Ren smirks at that. Having spent nearly a year and a half mostly on their own in the wilderness, they had been quite, willful.
"That sounds like a story from you two. A few of'em, actually." Jaune interjects, openly curious. Next to him, Pyrrhas head is tilted with a clear 'I'm curious but don't want to be rude and ask' look on her face. Well, clear to him, having actually known and interacted with her for a few months now. Fans watching her fights and interviews probably wouldn't see past the politeness.
Ren shrugs "The first orphanage we got put in couldn't handle us. Too rowdy, and too many habits we picked up to stay alive for them to deal with. The second thought us together was the problem, so they sent us to two separate orphanages. I ran away from the one they sent me to and started staying at the one Nora had ended up in." Omitting that they had been an all boys and all girls orphanages whenever they tell this particular story had cost him cooking Nora pancakes whenever she asks, but that's a small price to pay. "Once CPS finally figured out that I hadn't been killed or abducted two months later, they moved us to the place we stayed at until we started Signal. They specialized in kids with unlocked auras."
"And they were a bunch of abusive jerks!"
"They didn't let you have unlimited sweets and refused to let you drink anything caffeinated. You got in trouble breaking those rules too much."
Nora nudges his foot. "You did too trying to help me, mister." He cant help but smile at that, one Nora is sharing, teal eyes twinkling mirthfully in the moonlight.
"Umm, so, how did the orphans pay you to form the pact?" Pyrrha interjects, voice carrying the same tone it usually does when she finds a reason to work 'I'm sorry' into a sentence. Both he and Nora start, looking back towards the rest of their team, not really sure how long they'd been, distracted.
Nora reaches the hand not resting on his ankle down into her pocket, and pulls it out to flash a decent sized wad of lien. Both Jaune and Pyrrhas face turn to frustrated masks of judgment at that. Nora rolls her eyes at them. "Don't look at me like that. Not every kid is lucky enough to wind up in an orphanage. The ones I helped sneak out to get food to some of the street kids a few times a week. The kids give them some of what they got picking pockets, begging, or being little information brokers. Next time they summon me, they promised to introduce me to the ones that find stuff out for people. Figured it'd help with our Fallen Angel problem."
Jaune looks like he wants to sigh, or shake his head, or, well, react. However, he goes strangely still for a moment, before replying "Good job Nora. How about you Ren, any contracts tonight?"
"Just the one."
Pyrrha takes a few steps away from Jaune, and slowly starts working through some stretches as she asks "Was it, someone new?"
He shakes his head "My first regular, Lacey. Though I don't know how much longer she'll keep summoning me."
Jaune starts working though his own stretches, pulling his left arm across his head with his right, body tilting as far to the right as he can probably manage "Is she not satisfied with what you're doing for her lately?"
He shakes his head "I don't know how much longer she's going to be able to hold on to her dream. When she first started summoning me, it was light sparring, and tips on what can get her through Initiation or will help her do well at Beacon. After that cafe she worked at fired her, she would vent for a while, then it was more of the same." He pauses, not really comfortable with talking about someone else's personal life, but hoping that Jaune, having been at this far longer than him, will have some advice that will help the poor girl. "This is the second time she's summoned me and all I did was provide a shoulder to cry on."
Nora, frowning up at the moon asks "Why is she crying on your shoulder, not her families?"
"Can't really talk to them. They want her to give up on being a huntress, move back in with them and go to civilian high school. If they find out where she went after getting evicted from her apartment, they'd probably-"
The entire team tense up as the plinth bearing the permanent transportation circle off to their left flares a vibrant orange. A fairly nondescript devil steps from the transportation circle as soon as the light flares. Shorter than Jaune but taller than Ren is and broad shouldered, though not by enough to assume he's ripped. His shaggy black hair is cut short, face is angular, with no features particularly noteworthy schooled into a perfectly neutral mask. Gray eyes flicker about as he walks towards them, taking everything in despite his relaxed posture. Clad in black suit-pants with a thin, polished black leather belt, a polished blacksmiths hammer hanging off of a loop worked into it. His white dress shirts top three buttons are open, black pencil tie with the Phenex symbol at its tip loose around his neck, black suit-jacket hanging loosely off his shoulders like a cape as opposed to being properly worn. His hands are crammed into his pockets, and a lit cigarette is hanging out of the corner of his mouth. "Arc. Out late with the peerage?"
"Just finishing up, Mr. Barbatos." Jaune answers quickly, stopping his stretches abruptly to turn and face the new arrival.
The older devil nods. "Don't worry about the potential stray in your territory. Boss told me that the missing piece has been showing up in the strays kings peripheral since this morning. Has more subtle killers watching for the traitor on Earth and the Underworld. The hunt will probably be official in a week, give or take, and I'm here to take it off of your hands. Cromwells all yours still." Ren squints, following Jaunes example to stand and address the newcomer more politely. He had been wrong in his initial observation, the suit isn't black, but an incredibly dark shade of blue. If he hadn't spotted the large forest green symbol that dominates the inside of his jackets right side, Ren wouldn't have picked up on the difference. The symbol itself follows the letter in a circle motif of the other Clan Symbols he has seen in his brief time as a devil. A rounded and barbed 'B' at its center, wrapped with small chains, which tie into the loop of larger chain at the ordinal points of the circle.
"Noted. I don't suppose me letting you work in my territory will get you to tell me what your actual name is, Mikazu?" Jaune quips at the older devil, stretching the name out as the older devil strides past them, not turning to look at them or slowing his even gait. Ren can't help but notice Jaunes ease and banter feels forced.
A puff of smoke trailing behind him, Mikazu, raises his voice just enough to be clearly heard by the quartet he is ambling away from "If we got together, I might tell you. Since we're playing for the same team you'll just have to stay in the dark along with the rest of the Underworld. Dont get in my way kids." The return quip and, Ren cant be sure if its an order, request or warning are delivered with a near complete lack of emotion in his voice. That and the older devils slack face and body language has Ren on edge.
The team remains silent, Jaune and Pyrrha returning to stretching, Ren and Nora sitting against a tree wide enough to accommodate both their of backs and gazing at the stars. When it is certain that the unsettling devil is out of earshot, Nora breaks the silence "So, who the heck was that?"
"Mikazu Barbatos. One of the underworlds most dangerous assassins. If you see him in Vale, leave him be unless he approaches you. If he looks like he's following or watching someone, leave the area. He isn't aggressive, but he can get, possessive, of his targets."
Pyrrha, settles onto the ground to stretch her legs some more. "What was that about his name Jaune?"
Their leader shrugs before following Pyrrhas example. "When the Three Way War was still active, the fallen razed his clans manor. He was the only one who had been at the manor during the attack to survive. Doesn't talk about it, has been the way he was tonight pretty much ever since, apparently. After the attack he insisted on people calling him by an anagram of the name his parents gave him. Whats left of the Barbatos wont give any hints about what it was, or even if he used his entire given name to make it." He shakes his head, raising a knee up and crossing his foot over the opposite before starting to stretch his back. "Still, if you like to believe rumors, he hunted down and killed every surviving fallen that had taken part in the attack."
"If his family is so loyal to him, why does he have their symbol hidden, but the Phenex on plain display?" Ren queries when its once again clear Jaune is more focused on avoiding cramps and being more sore than is necessary in the morning than sharing information.
Jaune switches his legs around, and raises his voice, as stretching the other side of his back has him facing away from his team. "Well, he didn't inherit the Barbatos magic, isn't exactly stable and is pretty far from becoming the next Lord Barbatos, even with the clan still reeling from their losses during the Three Way War. If he makes the issue of succession easier by swearing for or marrying into another clan, that's just fine for them. Until then, his own magic, Purpose, and that hammer of his makes the Clan look stronger."
"Hows the hammer special? It isn't even all that big." Nora asks, leaning over a bit, her shoulder almost coming into contact with Rens.
Jaune eases out of the stretch and stands back up "It's the hammer and his magical affinity that matter. The more he uses an item for a specific thing, the better it becomes for that. After a few centuries during the Three Way War using that hammer for killing blows its pretty final as far as killing instruments go." Ren opens his mouth, but Jaune cuts him off. "To the extent that when a decent sized branch family of the Phenex Clan declared for the Old Satanists during the civil war in the Underworld after Lucifer died, Lord Phenex hired him to deal with the issue. A week later, all living members of the Phenex Clan were loyal to Lord Sirzechs. Mikazu has been under an 'in case, as and when' retainer contract with the clan ever since."
"Are, we ready to head back to our dorm room?" Pyrrha asks, Jaune having fallen silent to let his team absorb what he had told him about the assassin that will be roaming their homes streets for the foreseeable future. Jaune nods, Ren and Nora stand up, and the quartet make their way to the transportation circle so they can get some sleep.
_-*R-DxD*-_
Suriel is doing his best to remain calm. He had been called to the hotel Sanvi went to when reporting to their superiors. Alone, unarmed, and under no illusions or protective spells, the same as the bitch always had. He knows she had decided to take the devil issue into her own hands, the last time he saw her. He also hasn't heard from her since, and that team JNPR had met some 'friends from another kingdom' recently. If the rumor mill can be believed.
The hotel itself is an upscale establishment, white marble walls on the outside, fluted columns supporting a wide veranda, tall windows that will easily keep the main plaza well and naturally lit during the day. The bored looking receptionist is polite and wearing his neat crimson and gold uniform professionally. It takes less than five minutes for a young looking bellboy in a bright red double breasted suit-coat and fitted white pants to arrive to show him to the private conference room he is to meet his, hopefully, late superiors superior in. The honed and polished shale tiled plazas flooring is replaced by deep taupe, low-pile carpeting. The wall panels, darkly stained oak of some sort is sculpted deeply and intricately, perhaps half a foot of difference in depth from the large flat panels taking up most of the space on the wall, to the outermost face of the crown and base molding. The warm wall lamps crafted from dark green glass and burnished brass to resemble old oil lams, while still providing the light of a modern lamp.
The bellboy steps to the side of one of the rooms about thirty feet down the hallway, gesturing to the door to his right, eyes glued to the wall opposite him. Suriel nods, and pushes the door open. The room is pitch black inside, after the door is shut. Once it is, he can hear the slight whir of its electronic lock clicking into place, before a set of blindingly bright lights flare to life in front of him. All he can make out is a robed figure with half a dozen black feathered wings spread widely. Suriel immediately drops to his right knee, left fist planted to the ground and head bowed, his own wings flaring before draping across his back to lie as flat against the ground as he can manage. "My Lord! I-"
"Silence." A gravely, masculine voice cuts him off. He obeys. "Sanvi was confirmed dead Sunday evening. You have been deemed the most capable member of the Vanguard in Vale, and are being granted a provisional field promotion to Cadre Leader in her stead. The cessation of the plague of tragic accidents that has been plaguing this fifth of the Vanguards infiltration will be one of the key factors in determining whether or not your promotion will be confirmed once you return to EbonHold."
Suriel nearly looks up at the figure he clearly is not to be able to identify in his shock. "Accidents? Surely you jest, my lord. The workings of the devils are foul and loathsome, but easy enough to identify, even for those of us born on this world who have never before encountered them." Though it is good to be able to speak with proper etiquette, not the base ramblings of the humans of this world.
"Explain yourself." The voice demands, cold and demanding.
He nods, just enough to be noticed, but not enough he could be accused of looking up before the lights dim. "Jaune Arc, a classmate of the huntsman team I will command once they graduate. His entire Team is made up of devils. Though I do not understand how, at the start of this school year, he was the only devil attending Beacon, and I had my men kill all three of his thralls. Now they are devils of noteworthy power as well. Sanvi informed those of us that remained in her Cadre that she was seeing to the matter personally when I last spoke with her Sunday."
The Overseer for this region, at least that is what Suriel thinks the shrouded figure is, makes a noncommittal grunt. "Team Juniper then. One of the Headmasters favorites currently. I will see that they are appropriately dealt with. Pay them no more mind, I will see to the matter."
"My lord?"
The overseer lets out a low, dry chuckle. "I have my own human servants, as well as more, stable, Cadres operating in the settlements outside of Vales walls. You have more pressing matters to see to. Unless there is anything else I will need to pass upwards in regards to your late superior?"
Suriel grins at that, knowing that, hopefully, he will be able to bring down that spiteful, self centered bitches house of cards in one move. The fact that he is taking it from her after her death does little to dull just how happy the thought makes him. "Any of her former subordinates are loyal to her, not the Myriad and Lord Dummah. She was covetous of the power and prestige attainable by those able to grow more wings or amass more power than she was. I can show you the scars on my back as proof of her tearing the vestigial wings out of those growing stronger than her. Most broke, I saw it happen enough times to believe her boasting. My lord."
He can hear the rustling of robes, but keeps his eyes on the floor. His wings are starting to hurt, but he ignores the pain. "No, I will recommend an investigation when I next speak to Lord Dummah, there is no need for you to bear your shame to me." The voice pauses, and Suriel can hear the sneer on his superiors face as he adds "I knew it was a bad decision to allow the spawn of a camp follower to join the Myriad. I take it your second set has already started to grow in?"
"Again."
Another rustle, followed by a long stretch of silence. "Very well. Your task, as of now, is to meet with an allied party this weekend. I will provide you with the address you are to meet them at. Afterwords, you will go to the building across the street, where your Cadres reinforcements will be waiting for you."
Suriel blinks, and shakes his head, slightly, to clear it. "Reinforcements, my lord?"
"Our victory is at hand. The Vanguards centuries of sacrifice, of suffering heathens and treating insects as our equals or better is coming to a close. Serve well in the coming weeks, and not only will your promotion be confirmed, but further glory and accolades may be heaped upon you." the gravelly voice intones. "Our work has singled out which offices are needed and which will be made redundant by the Myriads leadership. Our agents are ready to cease power, to replace, with our own or our servants, those offices that must be ours. Those of us who have faithfully served the Vanguard for so long stand to gain much."
Suriel knows he is shaking, either with excitement, or from remaining so statically prostrate for so long, though he doesn't care which. "You spoke of-"
"You have questions, which will be answered once your promotion has been confirmed. It is my will, and thus that of Lord Dummah that you will do everything in your power to ensure that the plans of those you meet with Friday night come to fruition with as little interference as is possible. Should you be forced to be the first of the Myriad to reveal our true nature to the mortals of Remnant, that is acceptable." A swish, followed by a muted clatter cut through the darkness. Suriel reaches out with his free hand, to find a length of chain that feels about the thickness of his amulets wrapped around a scrap of paper. "Add what I have given to you to the trinket forcing you to play the role of Sky Lark, then set it around the head of someone who wont be missed and will, or can be made to die soon. It will forcibly morph the corpse to match the child you impersonate. A full team of huntsmen is one of the most powerful tool to wield on this world, and you will need to act freely and as yourself to succeed in your task."
"What, what about the amulet?" He presses, desperately wishing for permission to sit, or stand at attention, or anything other than continuing in his current position.
The lights go back out. "It will destroy itself, along with the chain, and any other evidence that could lead back to us upon the targets death. You are dismissed."
Right, so, the first two scenes kinda ran away on me. The first one when Sanvi, an OC I made to fill out a pretty straightforward role, reminded me that she was a spiteful, covetous wad of rage that is absolutely capable of cold reading someone mid fight for an advantage. And, well, being more than a bit out of the loop did a big stupid. I'm sorry Akeno, really. didn't want to do that to ya, but, well, you have a Semblance now?
Before anyone calls me out on JNPR having a 'team chat' in the middle of the fight, let me direct you to round one of the Vytal Tournament in canon RWBY.
The second scene I thought was gonna be quick. Then Ozpin and Ironwood asked me to wait outside of the office while they have a discussion, heh.
Anyhow, love it? Hate it? Feeling woozy and wondering whether snorting that last line of Elmers Glue was a good idea or not? Drop me a review, I love that shit!