Dont own RWBY, dont own Highschool DxD, still not getting anything out of this aside from the satisfaction of reviews, and the pleasure of telling a story.
The first week of the semester, plotting aside, had been pleasant. Calm, peaceful.
Doctor Oobleck had delivered a most enlightening lecture on the rise to power of Mistral's criminal Syndicates after the Great War. They had had several of her favorites on offer in the cafeteria.
Homework had been easy, and the entire team had finished their coursework quickly. Even the planning for Blake and Ruby's foolish fixation on hunting down the White Fang themselves, instead of leaving it to licensed professionals and law enforcement agencies, had progressed as steadily and logically as could be expected.
Then her insufferable dolt of a partner had decided to bodily drag her from their dorm room by the collar of her brand new combat dress. Which is NOT how today was supposed to go!
After the Rapscallion and Neptune inserted themselves into her team's misbegotten plan, she should be walking alongside, maybe, arm-in-arm with Neptune to make a quick call to the SDC World Headquarters.
Neptune is polite, charming, and socially aware. They could talk on the way to and from the CCTS Tower, and he would stay off to the side and out of the way during her call. Ruby, probably one of the only forces on Remnant capable of reigning Yang Xiao-Long in, could spend time with her sister.
Instead, her tech-obsessed partner had forced the issue and ruined her perfect on-the-fly alteration to the plan to make sure everyone got what they wanted. Including her securing a date for the coming dance. All for a pretty view and to ogle technology she can barely comprehend.
Neptune will crumple like a wet paper bag under the force of Yang's willfulness, which will probably lead to a bar fight, car crash, excessive property damage, or some other mischief that will leave a black mark on their teams record before their freshman year is over.
Even worse, she will likely have to endure at least another half-dozen would-be suitors trying to secure her favor for the Vytal Dance!
A small, traitorous part of her brain points out that, overly trusting and hyperactive as she is, her prodigy of a team leader might have noticed something about the azure haired hunk that she had missed. Very clinically notes that Ruby, who is swiftly becoming a very dear friend of hers, may be protecting her from her own hormones.
A traitorous thought that is bludgeoned, frozen, shattered and buried with extreme prejudice. Ruby hadn't interacted with him any more than she had. She couldn't possibly have seen something she hadn't. Besides, Ruby only cares about weapons, and making friends in the naive, platonic and childish sense.
"I hear that two of you needed to have a late shower last night. Please tell me there won't be a nine-month-bump starting on our dorm floor soon."
Coco? Weiss looks up to see Team JNPR, clad in non-descript civilian clothes, but carrying their weapons with them standing in the hallway between the elevators and common room.
Jaune and Pyrrha are both beet red in the face, and seemingly frozen in place. "W-we were just training. You know, in preparation for the Vytal Tournament." Pyrrha stutters out, voice wavering with clearly false confidence.
Coco looks at the duo, the rest of her team focused on the books and scrolls scattered about the table in the common room they are at.
The team leader has her chair on its back two legs, and her sunglasses slid down her nose, intensifying her gaze. "Right, the Invincible Girl and her beefcake of a partner, favorites to clench the tournament this year, are so worried about the competition that they were up until two in the morning running themselves ragged. So ragged that they both needed a half hour long shower before they could fall asleep."
"No, really. That's all we were doing. I can show you the training weapons and-"
"Kid, I understand double entendre just fine, but there's really no need. We don't kink-shame here, and I don't really want to know what toys you and Pyr use." Coco cuts Jaune off, his face the same shade as his partner's hair at this point.
"In case you run out of the essentials the top right drawer of that" She jerks her head at the common rooms entertainment center "has a false bottom. All free if you need it."
Weiss can actually feel some heat rising to her cheeks out of sympathetic embarrassment. If they really were getting up to what Coco claims the rumor mill had started once the pairs nightly training regimen went into high gear, the redhead wouldn't be dealing with the same deluge of star-struck boys and girls looking to get a date with a name, not a person.
Velvet, pouting, pokes her team leader's arm with a pen. "Coco, be nice." Their RA just rolls her eyes at that, and turns back to her team and homework, chair thumping back down onto all four legs as she does so.
Fox, while using his Accessibility Dialogue Assistant to 'read' his book interjects. "Velvet, you know she's not just teasing for fun. Pyrrha has even more reason to be worried about the tabloids than Coco does. If she can get in front of rumors that might make it outside of Beacon, her agent will probably be more able to keep them from going viral, damaging her public image, and, most importantly, affecting her life." The rabbit Faunus huffs, shoots a pout at Fox, and turns her attention back to the textbook in front of her.
A flurry of motion to her left draws Weiss's attention to her partner. Ruby is rapidly patting down her new outfits pockets, straps and anywhere else she could conceivably store something. "I, uhh... I forgot my scroll in our room, Weiss. I'll be right back." At that her partner is gone in a flurry of rose petals, leaving her friends standing around blinking dumbly before she rolls her eyes at her leader's forgetfulness.
The heiress turns her attention to Team JNPR, making a point of very pointedly inspecting each of them. She makes no effort to hide her scowl, or that she is silently judging them. "Heading out to your mystery training spot in Vale again?"
Her friends awkwardly shuffle their feet, none of them making eye contact with her. At least they don't look happy about, or comfortable with the obvious lie that they have been telling their friends as an excuse for their mysterious, team-only, trips down into the kingdom proper. "Umm... Yeah?" Nora eventually asks as a response.
"When are you going to tell me, tell US the truth?" She tersely cuts back, right foot tapping in agitation.
Jane squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a small sigh. "With how much extra your team already has on your plate, how long would it be until the stress has you letting the rest of your blissfully oblivious team in on it too? Intentionally or otherwise. And once they know, what would you four even do about it?"
Blake and the White Fang.
Ruby barely keeping her academic head above the water trying to power through two years worth of missed general education courses, Academy Prep courses on ethics and laws, and the usual Beacon course load.
Yang's furtive calls on burner scrolls that aren't as subtle as she likes to think they are. Her disappearing for an hour or two whenever the team is wandering Vale.
Weiss doesn't know for sure what has Yang of all people attempting subterfuge, but she'd bet half her inheritance that it has something to do with the fact that the sisters have different surnames, and, biologically, are only half sisters.
All the same. "You aren't putting this conversation off forever, Arc."
He just nods, maybe a little sadly at that. "Never said that I wanted to, I just don't want to have to lie to you either, Snow Angel." She winces at the cheesy, inappropriate term of endearment, and Pyrrha frowns, turning away from her seemingly oblivious partner.
"When things are at a point that you can ask what you want to know plainly and openly, we'll tell you the whole truth." He offers a weak half-shrug and smile, before turning to lead his team to the waiting elevator.
The door dings shut moments later, and leaves her alone with her disquiet thoughts. Ruby doesn't leave her stewing in her thoughts for long, thankfully.
Her mood lightens steadily as the Dolt chatters away through the elevator ride, and the walk across campus. It is more crowded than usual, but, with all of the exchange students trying to get properly settled in, that isn't much of a surprise.
Ruby's prattle shifts to oozing over the CCTS Tower as they come into sight of the enormous structure. Weiss works on schooling her face back into an expression expected of the SDC heiress, calm, collected and confident. Letting her frustration at the day so far show in a scowl had worked wonders for getting them across campus unmolested, but it wouldn't do here.
Securing a terminal for an intercontinental call, getting the files they need, and deflecting the subtle hints that she should speak with her father is child's play. As far as most SDC employees, save perhaps board members, are concerned, if your name is Schnee, and you ask politely, the answer is always yes.
Weiss closes down the connection before an incoming call lights up the screen of her scroll with her older sister's name. A more honest smile crosses her face, and she accepts the call, barely noticing Ruby shifting even more dangerously close to being in the frame.
The screen blinks to a slightly grainy live feed of her sister from the waist up, back-dropped by what Weiss immediately recognizes as one of the private communications suites on her sister's personal ship, the Frost Blade. "Weiss, how are your studies progressing?"
Weiss nods "Quite well. My team has settled into a pleasantly cohesive unit, and I'm in the top tenth percentile of my class academically. If you have the time for a call, is it safe to assume that whatever mission you are on isn't too dangerous?"
"A simple patrol before my ship deploys to Vale for the Vytal Festival." Winter answers easily, a small smile on her face, and leaning back into the cramped suite's chair. "Not quite leave, but for the crew and teams attached to the Blade its a well earned reprieve."
Weiss can't help but chuckle. She had gotten used to her sister almost never being cleared for leave years ago.
When her sister had let her know she had been promoted to a commissioned officer's post and that hadn't changed, she had assumed it was the entire Specialist Corps that had a hard time getting a break. They're too valuable to leave at rest for long. So, looking out for themselves, the Specialists found ways to grant rest to those who need it without saying, or even hinting, at what they are doing. At least, that's what Weiss thinks is happening.
Weiss spots Ruby getting ready to bound into her personal space, and into the call. She stiff-arms her partner, who immediately starts flailing, and growl-mumbling at her, but can't quite get into the camera's focus. "Oh, do you know when you will be arriving?"
"Sadly, that depends on how active the Grimm are on this stretch of the tundra. I'll send you a message when I don't need to use the CCTS to reach Vale." Weiss nods, still smiling happily at the prospect of getting to spend time with her sister, in person, again.
"Are you, are you staying safe, Weiss?"
Strange, Whitley had asked her the same thing early in the first semester. "Of course, Winter. Beacon is one of the most secure places in Remnant. The only times I leave are for Academy outings, or with my team. I rarely am away from Beacon without Myrtenaster. Why are you asking?"
Winter takes a deep breath, now looking more like a Specialist than a sister. "Whitley reached out to me several weeks ago, claiming Mother had taken up residence in the wing of the manor I used to live in. That she had, shifted, all of the SDC security personnel that had served when Grandfather was still alive to her personal security detail, and posted them all in that wing. She even hired some of the ones that have recently been let go personally, and converted some of the extraneous rooms to a barracks for her staff." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "I touched bases with Klein, she moved him to the wing she's staying in as well."
Weiss shifts in her seat, and draws her weapon enough that Winter can see it on her screen. "Good, stay safe, Weiss. I don't trust whatever it is Father and that Haille Ragnar woman are up to. Especially if our daddies-boy of a little brother is nervous about it."
"You don't need to worry about me, sister. I'm perfectly safe at Beacon. The chances of something like a rogue White Fang agent infiltrating the Academy and capturing me while my guard is down, or a corporate enemy of Father's hiring a professional to break in and harm or kidnap me are so slim they may as well be nonexistent."
_-*R-DxD*-_
Salem is contemplative as she stands over the Pools of Destruction.
Not that this is an exceptional occurrence when she is making something new. She had had the stone pier she is standing on built alongside her Tower, her personal retreat away from Evernight Castle, and uses it solely for this purpose. Without exception, every servant she has ever taken on for her inner circle has known not to disturb her work here.
Her eyes are half open, and her mind wanders. At peace and, lost in her thoughts. As it should be, while a new creature of Grimm is being brought into Remnant.
Watts had informed her earlier, that, if what he can glean from business reports on the stock market, and his remaining personal connections, Vale and Atlas' militaries entered into a rather large joint project mere hours after Ironwood was slated to arrive in Ozma's current base of operations. It is only natural to assume that the recent arrival of at least one more player of note to the ongoing battle for the fate of Remnant had shocked her enemy out of his usual complacency.
"Oh, something new, Salem?" A voice cuts through her thoughts.
She has considered it many things over the years, the context changing that as much as the actions of the individual it belongs to. Rich and smooth, possessing an almost narcissistic level of confidence that, currently, makes it incredibly vexing. "I haven't seen a new beast emerge from the pits in quite a while. Dare I ask what the occasion is?"
"Ozma is moving, and while I do not doubt the plan, I thought it would be, prudent, to add another layer of insurance." Salem replies, as the main body of her newest creation rises from the pool. It bears a passing resemblance to a Seer, though its size is closer to that of the automobiles many of the modern era's humans use for travel. Ovoid and taller than it is wide, with veins chasing upwards along its side, and pulsing as it slowly inflates as it rises.
The massive sack slowly clears the pool, then, for perhaps a foot black flesh guarded by a circle of jagged, barbed bone roughly half the width of the creature's gravid main body. At its core, a segmented beak of glistening white bone points straight down, clicking shut as it clears the pool fully. "And what exactly is the parasite up to, my dear?"
She resists the urge to react to his playful jibe with so much as a sneer or roll of her eyes, focusing instead on her newest creation and sharing what her most intelligent servant of this generation had learned. "The shipyard that monstrosity, the Pride of Solitas was built in is apparently being readied for use. Additionally, several of the production lines responsible for the soon to be obsolete mechanical warriors Atlas fields are being made ready for transport."
"Quite troublesome. I take it this new Grimm is a direct counter to whatever it is the parasite and his patsies are up to this generation?"
Salem shrugs as a dozen forearm-thick tendrils begin to rise from the pool. Lurid red with thick black veins running their length, they will pose far more of a threat than their smaller siblings tendrils ever could. "It will cause chaos, which should be enough. I had planned to hold off on introducing this creature to our world for a few more generations. The promise of the current generation's skills and our plans had me fully expecting to not need it to weaken the Kingdoms for us to triumph, or wait so long. These are added insurance, nothing more, and nothing less."
There is a pregnant pause, before the impudent wretch replies, "You will need to be more specific than that, Salem. I cannot simply take your word on mystery projects in light of how you reacted the last time something truly new happened."
She knows she is above growling, and shouting, but her confidant has her incredibly close to both at the moment. "That was a momentary lapse, and will not be repeated."
"What you call a momentary lapse was the decade during which our only opportunity to bring multiple Kingdoms directly under our control came and went. We could have stood on equal footing to the parasite in that regard now. Instead all of our plans had to be halted while you re-coalesced from your constituent atoms." The voice growls at her.
"Continue pressing this topic, and I will be forced to call into question the generation we wasted commanding our minions solely through proxies. The numbers hardly made up for the gross increase in incompetence and loose control." She presses on, letting her satisfaction as the serrated claws at the tips of the tendrils breach the Pool of Destruction.
She allows her mind to wander, as it should have been the entire time, to what the humans will call this beast once she releases the first wave of them. What new terror and losses they will suffer from the havoc they shall spread.
She can hear his foot tapping behind her. "I had to find you a psychiatrist once you had a body again."
"An unnecessary gesture. Calavera escaped, and more than a third of the so-called mercenaries you had our proxy gather to do our work deserted and spread rumors of our existence after they failed to finish the job." Salem bites out. She was officially done with this game. "Is there a reason for your disturbing me here, and now?"
She can hear him take a shuddering, calming breath, and is almost certain that he is running a hand through his, probably, slicked back hair. "I would recommend that you have any assets I am unaware of in Atlas go to ground. I believe one of the more, unruly, individuals affiliated with the Norse pantheon is preparing to make a move. Before you ask, those that break from Odin's will, unless more has changed than I can believe, are not the sort one would willingly enter into an alliance with."
She nods, letting out a small sigh. Arthur's work in that frigid kingdom would be slowed, but she is nothing if not patient. What was time to her anymore, after all? "Very well. I shall pass your warning on to Arthur and have him return to Evernight for the duration of the upheaval. Have you discovered anything on the individual trying to turn the Faunus to it through the White Fang?"
Another pause "Whoever it is, they rose to power after I moved on, and likely never gained enough traction before falling again to have found Remnant without being followed or noticed by us sooner. I recognized none of the monikers my agent found connected to the individual going by Quartz Iatl."
"Very well. Then Cinder will deal with them, or Ozma will handle it in his own way." Salem nods, and turns to return to the Tower.
"Clearly this individual is beneath us."
_-*R-DxD*-_
The hunt for the second Stray had been progressing slowly but surely just about every day since Akeno had returned to Japan. Between the increasingly worried news reports of a brutal murderer slashing his way through Vale, and their familiars, Jaune is certain that today, tomorrow at the worst, they will find and deal with the Stray.
Their hunt had, over the course of the week, led them to one of the many huntsman communities along the kingdoms outer wall. None of the locals seem particularly worried about the prospect of a nomadic serial killer wandering the streets of their neighborhood, going by how calm everyone going about their daily business is. Then again, most of them, like team JNPR, are armed.
The houses are nearly all brick or stone faced, with thin, tall windows maybe half as wide as a grown mans torso set in the middle of the thick walls, instead of casements that leave them flush with the homes outer wall. They are more numerous than you would see on a civilian's home however, to make up for letting less light in individually.
Flat roofs that can serve as patios or fire-points are more common than the lower maintenance pitched roofs civilians prefer, which have been nearly non-existent since the team was guided into this neighborhood. What garage doors are open, when the press of bodies wandering the streets allows him to look into them, have machining tables, grinding wheels or personal forges in them more often than not.
Most of those garages have trucks or off-road vehicles instead of cars, and nearly all of the vehicles have clearly been modified after purchase to make them easier to fight from, more likely to do well in the wilderness, on ill-trimmed trails, or both. Everything is vibrantly colored, and emblazoned with emblems or quotes.
In the distance, a bit beyond where Wattage is making itself look incredibly conspicuous pointing them in the direction of the Stray with its beak, one of the Great War Memorials can be seen over the roofs, carved into the long healed wound in outer wall. Jaune is pretty sure he can spot at least one crescent that had likely belonged to one of his great-granduncles or aunts, as well as a flower of some sort that might be a rose, which could be in memory of one of Ruby's long dead ancestors. A very out of place street kid darts out of one of the side alleys to silently tug on Ren's belt, pointing back down the alleyway he had emerged from a few blocks past the antenna Nora's familiar had been, perched, on.
It takes nearly ten minutes to pick their way through the trashcans, quench tanks, empty ammo cans and worn down whetstones that litter the otherwise clean and well-lit and clean alley. When they do emerge, however, they are greeted by an incredibly unsettling sight.
One of the outer walls freight gates had been blasted off of its hinges. The police have cordoned off the wound in the wall; several officers are waiting along the police line that people can approach.
VSPRD officers man a second, inner police line, none of whom look happy. Wattage alights on the lip of the wall, thrusting one of its wings and a beak towards the wilderness beyond, barely balancing on one of its talons to do so.
The team walks up to one of the officers manning the outer police line who is leaning against a street light that the barricade tape had been tied around. Jaune, at the fore, prompts the bored looking man "What happened here, officer?"
He shrugs "Not much that a bunch of kids like you need to worry about. Some nut-job decided he wanted to leave the city by tearing a cargo gate out of the wall instead of walking through one of the foot gates like a normal person. Some of the higher ups are thinking it might be that serial killer that's been on a tear in this part of the kingdom over the last few days."
All four devils can see a smattering of huntsmen and huntresses beyond the hole that had once housed the reinforced steel gate that a construction crew is working on cutting up the mangled remains of. Presumably to haul back into the city to be melted down and re-used.
A pair of Kingfisher military airships shriek overhead, just barely clearing the wall, and startling Wattage from his perch on it. Jaune is pretty sure he caught a glimpse of the Valean Auric Commandos crest on one of the olive drab vessels fuselage.
"Looks like the army got involved." The cop adds after their collective ears had stopped ringing. "Which means I don't get paid enough to look any more into this mess, and you kids can wait for the News to figure out the rest." Jaune shrugs, and after politely thanking the officer to end the conversation, leads his peerage back down the sidewalk in the general direction of the bullhead docks. It'll be a long walk, but that's fine.
After a few minutes of walking, when they are more or less alone on the sidewalk, Nora speaks up. "So, what now? I don't think we'll be able to sneak through both police lines, and the closest gate is like, two hours away if we walk to it."
Jaune shrugs "The situation will sort itself out, probably. Strays aren't the most positive individuals you'll meet. Now that it's outside the kingdom it'll start attracting Grimm. I don't think it will take too long for it to run into either a big enough pack, or individually strong enough Grimm to kill it."
"And the soldiers that are probably chasing after it?" Pyrrha prompts, a worried frown on her face, idly rotating the bangle on her left arm as she glances at the rest of the team.
Ren shrugs "Think of the last Stray we fought, Pyrrha. From what Jaunes told us, that's fairly normal. Now imagine running into that, but you have a gunship."
Jaune nods, the other guy in his peerage having summed up his thoughts on that possibility pretty well. "As for the third, well, the potential third Stray, I think its been made pretty obvious that it isn't any of our..." he knows he had just trailed off like an idiot, but he thinks he's allowed to be a bit shocked.
After all, in all the time he has known Ravel Phenex, she has never worn anything other than dresses, and the occasional skirt and blouse. Nor has he seen her hair not pulled into her drill-like ponytails.
So, the sight of his friend in blue jeans and a t-shirt with her hair hanging unbound down her back, mostly combed away from her face and held back by a hairband, sitting at a table outside a cafe with a sandwich and cup of, well, something warm going by the steam rising from it, is surprising to say the least.
By the time he realizes that he had frozen on the spot, staring dumbly at his friend, Pyrrha had already noticed, and walked crossed the street to greet her. He shakes his head, and jogs to follow his partner, Ren and Nora following him. "Hello again, Ravel. What brings you to Vale?" Pyrrha greets the petite blond as she reaches the girl's half used table for two.
The devil in question politely dabs at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, before she answers "Oh, nothing much. I was summoned here several weeks ago, and decided to have lunch before returning home after forming the pact. I rather enjoyed this cafe and decided to stop through for dinner tonight."
No one tells him anything about the potential third Stray on the loose in Vale. One of the few assassins that have actually killed a member of the Phenex clan is sent to Remnant, and advising him to stay away from a hunt that, by all rights, was his responsibility. And now, he runs into one of his friends, dressed as far from her personal taste in fashion as she could possibly be, eating at a cafe that just so happens to be attached to an inn that looks like it caters to huntsmen traveling through the kingdom.
He takes a second look at Ravel, and notices that the jeans she is wearing are a local brand, and the t-shirt has the logo from one of Vales Arena Soccer teams on its back. "When's the last time you talked with your brother, Ravel?"
She tilts her head at him, doing her best to look innocent. "Which one, Jaune? I have three." Something in the devils purse jingles and vibrates, and the girl pulls her phone out, scowling at the screen before moving to shove it back into her purse. Jaune, having spotted 'Riser' on the screen, darts forward to wrest the object from her talloned grasp.
He ignores the girl's protesting, and slides up on the screen. It's locked, but he can see that she has nearly a hundred unread messages from the older brother whose peerage she is a part of. He shoots a scowl at Ravel. "How long have you been hiding in Vale for, Ravel?"
She tries to meet his gaze, but almost immediately looks away. "I... After the recording of Riser's duel with Hyoudou was released the morning after it happened, I came here. At first I just thought he had been caught up in the heat of the moment during the mock Rating Game. But with what he said before that fight, I just, I needed time to think."
"Ravel, this won't be a disagreement with one of your brothers for much longer."
She crosses her arms, head snapping up back towards him, an angry scowl on her face as she glares at him. "This isn't any of your business, Jaune."
He holds his ground under the heat of her gaze. Some of the other people walking by seem curious, but no one is moving to interfere either.
"Mikazu Barbatos came to Remnant a few days ago, Ravel. He thought it would be for the best if I didn't interrupt him while he's on the job here. He isn't actively looking for his target yet, but he told me that his employer had been catching glimpses of the missing evil piece out of the corner of his eye." Ravels scowl shifts to a worried frown. She snaps her phone out of Jaune's grasp, unlocks it and, after scrolling up, sets about reading through the messages her brother had sent her. Her face goes increasingly pale as she reads through the messages.
Jaune can't make most of them out, the most recent message has Ravel more or less frozen in place. It isn't particularly long, but it doesn't need to be: 'Watched a Bishop piece flicker on my desk for almost ten minutes.'
"Ravel, you need to either go back to your brother, or find someone else to trade to." He pauses to take a steadying breath. What he's about to suggest would probably get both of them in a massive amount of political trouble, might even qualify as the scandal of the decade. But Ravel is a friend, and not one he's willing to loose. "If you want, I have a bishop piece left. I think I can talk to Lord Bael about legally transferring you from Riser's peerage to mine, but..."
Ravel shakes her head, "I would probably need to choose a new surname if we did that, and the stigma of having nearly gone Stray would follow me for even longer than it probably will already. And I doubt that the House of Bael would be happy with being forced into a conflict with the House of Phenex over a girl stupid enough to get caught in the situation I'm in."
She sets a hundred lien bill down on her table, probably way more than she owes, and stands up. "My mother has a spare bishop right now. Once the rumors die down, and after I've thought some, I may still take you up on that offer. Thank you for letting me know just how bad I let things get, I owe you in a big way for this, Jaune." As she starts to walk down the street, he can't help but admire how well she had taken his warning. He can barely tell she is trembling, and the waver in her voice had been almost imperceptible.
_-*R-DxD*-_
The formerly abandoned warehouse isn't quite full to bursting, but it's close.
Lacey is standing off to the side of the half of the room the potential new recruits are being herded to. They aren't organized or uniform, standing around in small groups, most of them fidgeting with the freshly handed out masks, their clothes, or nervously chattering amongst themselves. A stark contrast to the neat ranks of uniformed White Fang loyalists.
She still isn't entirely sure if she'll keep the mask, and come to the next meeting herself, or break the damn thing and leave the pieces in a few different dumpsters after tonight.
She's just been, so, angry, as the weeks had trudged on into months after her life plan had fallen apart. Crimm will probably kick her out if he finds out she came here. Then it's either giving up, going back to her parents and living a civilian life, or a White Fang safe-house. And she knows that's a terrible decision to be looking at. She still knows where her breaking point had been.
Beaten up by muggers on her way to an interview, a dead end job in the mailroom of a bigger law firm, but they claimed to be equal opportunity, and she only needed something to last her until Beacon started next year anyways. The beating had mostly been because she didn't have any money or valuables left on her. If she had had Resonant Chord they probably would have taken that, and had the auric enhanced gang been just a touch worse, they probably would have taken more.
Still, she had gotten to the interview a few minutes late, clothes tattered, bloody and hurting. The receptionist had taken a look at her, his expression stone-faced, had announced that they didn't need 'trouble-making Faunus brats that get in fights'. Then ha called whoever had been running the interviews to inform them she was a no-show.
The next day she had turned up for the morning session at Serpent Strike, to find the strip mall half burnt down. Apparently some assholes had decided to go after the little one layer law firm that had been renting one of the other suites in the strip mall – they had a Faunus secretary, apparently.
Mr. Laurent had told her about a few places where she could probably do pretty well fighting, if she doesn't piss off the bookies, or take out the local favorite. Not strictly legal, but it would keep her sharp. He said that he'd let her know when he found a new place to run the school from, but the look in his eye told her that probably wouldn't happen for a long time, maybe ever.
So here she is, leaning against a wall, close to one of the side doors waiting for this recruitment rally to get started.
A few other Faunus had tried to spark up conversations since she got here half an hour ago, and normally she would have happily accepted the distraction. Normally she wouldn't be so angry. At herself, at the world. The cold shoulder had worked eventually for each of them. The room goes quiet when the guy presumably running the meeting takes the stage.
Between the full-face mask, bulky musculature, tribal tattoo and sleeveless variation on the rank and file White Fang soldiers, he is definitely impressive. Even the clutch of vibrant green blue and yellow feathers rising from his mask's top and sides fail to lessen his imposing demeanor. Then he talks.
He just sounds, so, dweeby that it hurts. If the guy wasn't ripped, he'd probably be the butt of every joke as soon as he walks into a room. He opens up more like they're at an HR meeting. Well, if what she's seen of those in movies and TV shows is accurate he does, than a terrorist group claiming to be an equality movement edging into a cult.
Before long he's introduced a 'very special guest' and Roman freaking Torchwick walks onto the stage.
He starts going on about how terrible humans can be, clearly looking to fire up the crowd. She tunes him out through that. She doesn't need to be any more angry than she has been the last few days, and knows that it's only some humans that are the problem. She isn't some racist, genocidal maniac, just angry and tired of nothing changing.
The fact that she had been looking around instead of focusing on the stage is definitely a small blessing. It lets her spot a blond tail and pair of black ears closer to the front and center of the crowd of new recruits.
She isn't so stupid as to think that multiple Faunus can't have similar traits and hair colors, but the fact that a blond monkey tail and long black hair with black cat ears had been the most memorable traits of the pair that had attacked a White Fang operation a few months ago isn't lost on her either.
She starts edging closer to the side exit, when Roman finally gets to the point.
She may not know Vale's most famous thief, but enough of the thugs that had started calling themselves Matchsticks show up at Serpent Strike and talk that she is pretty sure has a better idea of who he is than what the media paints him as. He likes to grandstand, to showboat, but is never wasteful, and isn't stupid.
The fact that the criminals he recruited to his little gang, at least the ones she has met, are proof enough of that. All of them are decent fighters, or have some other useful skill, and none of them have the sort of tattoos people tend to pick up during lengthy stays in prison. So she can guess that all or most of his minions are smart enough to not get caught, or at least not for long.
And here Roman Torchwick is, showing off Atlesian military hardware to one of Vale's bigger, she thinks, White Fang cells. With, maybe, the same two Faunus that had crashed one of the last big jobs he had been working with the White Fang on, as far as she knows that is. Maybe they're after him. Maybe they're working for him on some deep, convoluted scheme. But being somewhere else definitely seems like a smart idea right now.
"What about this new religion the Fang have been preaching?" A strident voice cuts off Torchwick midway through his pitch about the dedicated members of the Fang transferring to the operations east of the city.
The guy had raised his hand as he shouted his question, which actually has the gold and purple dragon heads of the Brother Gods tattooed to the back of it. The question stops her hand halfway to the side door, which she is glad to see doesn't have a fire alarm locking it shut. She isn't particularly religious herself, but the question is one she wants the answer to.
Torchwick pauses, looking over the crowd as he schools his shocked face back to a grinning facade of cocky confidence. "Ah, that. Commander Taurus has found, in his travels, that the Faunus once worshiped their own deity, not the human's Brother Gods." He pauses, then, starting to pace again, continues.
"Now, conversion isn't mandatory to join the Fang. However, from what I've been told, the home branch in Menagerie mostly have, and Commander Taurus has been putting in quite a bit of effort to do the same here in Vale. If you want to know more, much like if you want to accomplish more with the White Fang, you'll need to take that leap of faith, and move to the main operation to the east. Once you get settled in there, plenty of ordained priests will be more than happy to see to your spiritual needs."
The most bloody-minded of the White Fangs commanders active in Vale, and clever evasions to any substantial questions unless she leaves the city to help with a project that involves stolen Atlesian military hardware, including technology that hasn't even been made public knowledge yet? Lacey's hand is on the side door even as the Lieutenant is announcing that all of the new members will need to take off their masks. She has hers off just as the door clicks shut behind her, and a gunshot takes out the lights. She shuffles the mask into the pouch of the hoody she had worn to the rally, and checks that Resonant Chord is secure on her back as she walks through the alleyway the door had spit her out into.
This time of night, a girl her size normally wouldn't dare wander this part of the city alone under normal circumstances. The scowl on her face, blade at her back and nondescript dress make her look more like trouble than a potential mark, luckily.
By the time she gets to the back entrance of Club Farenheit, it's well past the last call. The back door clicks open then shut as she darts through it, and she quietly makes her way to the room Crimm is still letting her stay in. It isn't exactly warm, but not so cold that she needs to keep the sweatshirt on. She shucks out of it, pulling the mask from the pouch, ready to start breaking the damned thing into tiny pieces so she can get this terrible mistake of an impulse behind her and start figuring out the next step towards Beacon.
She doesn't even think when she hears a knock on the door, only one person would try to come in here this time of the night. She gives him permission to enter as an afterthought, turning to face the doorway as she does so.
The gentle, genial smile Crimm's face normally bears evaporates the moment she realizes what she still has in her hands. "I was going to let you down gently, Lacey. Give you until the end of the month to figure something out. You crossed one of the only lines I have for the Faunus I let stay in these rooms. I want you gone by noon tomorrow." At that, the door slams shut. She wants to scream. She wants to cry. Something buzzes in her pocket.
The burner scroll she had been given with this damned mask. A list of safehouses – in case any of the new recruits need somewhere to stay lights up the screen as she swipes past the lock screen.
_-*R-DxD*-_
The team dully shuffles from the bullhead landed on Beacon's docks worried, and frustrated. The long, mostly uneventful day hunting down a Stray Devil that is now beyond their reach, punctuated by a quick injection of fear for a friend who they only had bad options to help, had left all of them drained. Legs sore from spending all day walking, bodies stiff from being crammed into the transport like sardines with all the other students who had spent the weekends last day down in Vale, and emotionally drained from having been worked up for a fight only to have all the vim drained out of them by worrying news, team JNPR are simply done.
Pyrrha lets out a low groan when she spots the pair of guys their age leaning against one of the massive pillars lining the path from the bullhead docks to the academy proper. They spot her, already tired from spending a good chunk of time politely denying autograph requests, and move to intercept the tired team.
The one on the left is a bit shorter than Ren, with shaggy black chin length hair, bright amber eyes and pointed, brooding features. Lithe muscle covered by his loose fitting black leather slacks, vibrant red tank top and full length charcoal gray trenchcoat, neatly tailored to flow over the void where his right arm would be. A flame-pommeled jian with multiple fire dust crystals worked into its guard resting on his right hip.
To the shorter huntsman in training's right confidently strides a tall, deeply tanned young man, grinning wolfishly beneath his dark blue eyes and short black topknot. Broader than his partner without being bulky, and taller than Pyrrha but shorter than Jaune. He's wearing a pair of baggy seafoam gray pants and a short sleeved navy blue shirt with sky blue stitching and trim, a pauldroned black leather rigging over its top holding a pair of deeply curved falchions to the small of his back, their bulky guards holding micro-smgs. "Finally found where you ran off to Pyrrha. Thought you could pull one over on us by transferring out of Mistral, did you?"
She takes a steadying breath. Be nice. "Jaune, Ren, Nora, these are Raye Huoyan and Onyx Pasang. Second and third place, usually, in our age bracket on the Mistrali Tournament Circuit. Raye, Onyx, my teammates." She politely introduces everyone, gesturing at the shorter of the two newcomers first, and the taller, tanned one second.
Nora looks back and forth between the two, probably noting the ying-yang formed by a pair of falchions tattoed to Onyx's right bicep – of course he'd get a tattoo of his emblem – at the same time she had. "So, who's second and whose third?"
Raye rolls his eyes. "Changes nearly every tournament. And you dodged the question, Pyrrha."
Pyrrha starts walking again, not really wanting to deal with the stooges for too long. "Because I wasn't trying to get a leg up on either of you. I wasn't lying when I told you two that I want to leave the Tournament Circuit after the championship round last year."
Onyx looks over the rest of the team, wiggling his eyebrows at Nora, who crosses her arms with a huff, and dismissing Ren and Jaune almost as soon as his eyes fall on them. "So, this is your team then, Sun Flare? They don't look too bad, I suppose. The three of us with whoever Lionheart chose for a fourth probably would have been better though. The pair Raye and I got saddled with are nice enough, but..."
Jaune, frowning, picks up his pace to walk beside Pyrrha "Actually, I'm the team leader. Pyrrha's my partner."
"And I asked you not to call me that, Onyx."
"What, a guy can't hold on to the pet name he had for his old flame?" Onyx rhetorically retorts, the glimmering crocodile tears and false pain in his voice almost cringe-worthy. It looks like Nora has fallen for it, and Jaune and Ren both wince. Be nice. She's known him for nearly half a decade and recognizes his tells, they just met him.
Raye elbows the taller teen with his only arm "Whatever was between the two of you was strictly in your own mind, Pasang."
"You broke my heart! Dumped me after our first date to run away to Vale!" He shouts, doubling down on the act and throwing his arms into the air and head back as he shouts.
Pyrrha almost snickers at that. "It was the three of us watching a movie wearing disguises to decompress after the National Championships. Not a date."
Before the loudmouth can make an even bigger fool of himself, Raye, thankfully, cuts him off. "So, Jaune, you're Pyrrha's team leader? I'm surprised Headmaster Ozpin didn't put her in charge of the team."
Jaune offers a sheepish shrug, "I must have stood out the most as leader material. We did have a few classes on leadership at Tartarus." Jaune offers modestly, falling back on his cover story for good measure.
Ren huffs a chuckle as they close in on the dorms. Most of the students walking around in the evenings fading light are watching them now, but she's used to it. "His plan was good enough for the four of us to take down a Deathstalker together a few minutes after we met each other, and he came up with it on the fly."
"It helps that he's on my level in Combat Class as well." Pyrrha interjects, really hoping that her team and her old rivals, well, friendly rivals, would get along. They may be a bit much, but her teammates aren't much better, if she's being honest.
Both of the Mistrali huntsmen's heads snap to zero in on Jaune, Rayes eyes sizing him up, and an excited, competitive grin forming on Onyx's face. "Say, Jaune, never did catch your last name, by the way. Care for a spar sometime?"
Pyrrha's head drops, and she pinches the bridge of her nose. At least they'll take Jaune seriously now. "If it happens in combat class, that's fine. Anything else before the Vytal Tournament and I'll remind both of you why I'm the champion and the two of you are silver and bronze." That gets Raye to relax, and Onyx to let out a hearty laugh.
"That's fair, Pyrrha. We'll see the four of you in class tomorrow then?" Onyx asks, strolling to a stop as the group reaches the ranks of dormitories. Both of the foreign kids facing the temporary transfer students dorms, while JNPR only has a few more feet until they are in their own building.
Jaune, along with the rest of the team, give the pair an affirmative before they split off. Once the team is in the elevator, Jaune asks "So, old friends of yours, then, Pyrrha?"
She nods "I may have gotten the lion's share of the fame and big sponsorships, but those two are on almost as tall a pedestal as me, in Mistral at least. Aside from personal trainers, they were the only people that really felt, real, I suppose. And even then, our friendship was a rivalry first and foremost, and all of it was distorted by the fame. They aren't bad, once you get to know them."
He offers her an awkward pat on her shoulder, clearly wanting to console her, but not really sure how. She'll take it.
The rest of the trip to their dorm room passes in silence. All of them unclip their weapons once their door is closed, and, not having any homework to work on, they settle down on their futon to veg out, see if anything good is on T.V.
Eventually, they settle on a goofy, obstacle course gameshow. For them, most of the tasks would be laughably easy, but to the civilians running the course, the challenge is real, and the results of failure often hilarious.
After three episodes, the show cuts away just about exactly in the middle of its run-time between commercial breaks. The network's 'Breaking News' graphics framing the image being captured by a news airship.
The top of the screen has, emblazoned in bold letter 'Chaos on the Highway' at the top. On the bottom, it reads 'Local Huntresses Battle Stolen Prototype at Rush Hour' in smaller blocky print, with a scroll of traffic delays below that.
On the screens center, Team JNPR are transfixed by the sight of worryingly familiar red, white, black and yellow forms bouncing around the road. They eventually corner the Atlesian looking war machine in an abandoned parking lot.
The lot, and some of the highway support beams are ruined by the fight. Eventually, the mech is destroyed, and a ragged figure, which the reporter identifies as Roman Torchwick crawls from the wreckage.
When it looks like their sister team is about to apprehend Vales most famous thief, the space in front of them shatters like glass. The feed ends with the panicked voice of the news airships pilot going on about an unregistered airship not transmitting an IFF code. The ship in question nearly collides with the new ship as it flees the scene as the feed cuts away to the newsroom when the screen was dominated by the underside of the criminals ship.
Half an hour later, Jaune's scroll rings.
The contact info on his lock screen showing 'VSPRD Headquarters – Holding Cell One'.
A/N: That one ran a lot shorter than the last few, but we're getting real close to the first big diversion from canon now.
Beta'd by MasterPrince713
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