Chapter Four: Landing and Other Strategies
Tap… tap… tap…
Hunched over a desk in the dingy apartment, a man leaned over several Scrolls. He glanced at the bucket in the middle of the room, irritated by the droplets of rainwater striking the metal. With a huff that blew past his moustache, he returned to his work. It was hardly surprising that this apartment was abandoned; it leaked.
At least he wouldn't have to put up with it for long; as he'd told Tyrian, they needed to stay on the move. He could elude electronic surveillance fine, but there was no point taking risks. James employed living hounds too, and they were doubtless looking for infiltrators.
He scrolled through the information in front of him, looking for further cracks in the edifice. On one scroll, he searched through the public news networks. On another, he had more privileged access to the Mantle's administration's own networks.
He couldn't get the same access to Atlas's own networks yet. They'd clearly been trying to patch the backdoors his virus had exploited at Beacon, and had done so enough that he couldn't get in from here. But going through all that code took time, and they had yet to get round to much of Mantle yet. Poor Mantle, always last in the queue. Some vital systems – the heating grids that sheltered Mantle from the freezing conditions outside, for instance – had been updated, but much of the rest remained open to him. Enough to hide himself and Tyrian from the ever-present cameras, enough to find the first targets in their campaign.
He'd need more, eventually. If only he could hold of the right credentials… he looked speculatively at an article about the forthcoming election. An old friend, perhaps? Once he had full access to the main security network, it'd be child's play to turn it to his will. After all, he wrote most of it.
And what did he get for it?
Mantle, Atlas, he despised them both. The security networks, the environmental controls, the paladin battlesuits; he'd created them all. The systems that provided life and kept them safe were thanks to him, and yet what thanks or recognition had they offered? None! His achievements ignored, James had chosen to favour Pietro's bizarre project instead, and then stood idly by while the man that he and Atlas owed so much to had been disgraced. Atlas called itself a giant, while standing atop the back of his genius! He'd had to fake his own death to escape the shroud under which he'd been covered, and the city had chosen to forget the man who'd built the technology they relied upon.
That forgetfulness would prove their undoing. He towards the window, seeing the outline of the city below and the shape of the city above beyond. There were some in this world who appreciated talent. Salem may not strictly be human, but she at least respected his gifts, and gave him ample scope to employ them. Yes, her effort to remake the world may bring considerable discomfort to the masses, but when did they matter? You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. And as for bringing misery here… well, that was a feature, not a bug.
He turned back to his work. His eye caught on a likely suspect. Some lunkhead, arrested for throwing a brick at a military airship. A minor matter, for which he'd likely be charged and released, but this particular lunkhead was well known for his vocal opposition to the General. It would be most unfortunate for another of James' critics to meet an unfortunate and totally suspicious end. Checking Mantle's voting registry soon revealed the man's address.
He tapped his ear-set, checking it was in place, and made the call, making sure his Scroll could not be traced.
"Yes?" asked a voice through the earpiece.
"Tyrian, Arthur here. I have another target for you. I'm forwarding his address. He should be leaving police custody shortly."
Tyrian chuckled. "Another life for our Goddess? I'm sure that can be arranged."
"I'll leave it in your capable hands, then," Arthur Watts replied with a wry smile, ending the call. The man might be a psychopath, but he was good at what he did. Even better, he stuck to what he knew, unlike certain others who kept trying to work beyond the bounds of their competence.
Where is dear Cinder? he idly wondered. He'd rather hoped she'd fallen at Haven, but Salem seemed sure she was alive, and Watts knew better than to bet against his employer.
Of course, James was betting against her now, with the whole kingdom of Atlas as the stake. It was a poor bet. All Arthur needed to do was to take that gap between Mantle and Atlas and turn it into a chasm that both would fall into.
He looked back out the window.
I helped build this. And I can tear it down.
-000-
Jaune picked idly at the food before him. He could hear the others chatting as they ate a late breakfast in the Academy's mess hall, but it was little more than background noise as he prodded at a piece of bacon with a fork. His attention was focused on the two vacant seats opposite. Seats they'd left empty as if by habit, expecting them to be filled.
He knew it was silly really. Pyrrha would tell him they were capable of looking after themselves, and she'd be right. But he couldn't help it. Since they'd started attending Beacon, he'd been filled with the desire to help protect his friends, even if he was the weakest of them all, the one who'd snuck in with a combination of ignorance and false transcripts. The thought of being helpless – stuck in a tree as he'd put it – while his friends fought for their lives horrified him. And since Beacon they'd risked so much. He'd nearly lost Pyrrha twice.
He understood why Nora and Ren had needed to stay behind, but he'd felt torn in two halves by it. They were both part of his team, part of his family, and they saw he and Pyrrha the same way. He'd give anything to protect them, but how could he do that if he weren't with them? Even his semblance, as miraculous as unlocking it had seemed, could only heal or protect those close by him.
And yet he didn't stay with them, as much as he considered it. Team RWBY had to go on ahead with the relic regardless, and he knew Pyrrha wanted to see it through too. He couldn't abandon her either and something – perhaps that same instinct that gnawed at him on the morning of the Breach – told him that those going with the relic would face the greater danger. At least he'd felt so, but now they'd delivered the relic. Perhaps the hunch had been wrong?
But in that case, were Ren and Nora at risk? Or maybe–
"Jaune?" Pyrrha's voice broke through his musings. He looked at her, to see her looking worriedly back.
"Sorry, just thinking," he said.
"About?"
He glanced across at the two empty seats.
"Oh," she replied, falling silent for a moment. "Jaune, I'm sure they're alright."
"I know," Jaune said with a thin smile. "I think not knowing what to do next is making it easier to worry."
"I'm sure," she agreed. "About that–"
"Kids," Qrow grunted at them with a nod, a tray of food in his hand. He drew one of the chairs in question and sat, before turning his entire attention to the food before him. Jaune wondered if he'd gone back on the resolution he'd made in Argus.
"Uncle Qrow, have you heard anything?" asked Ruby from near the head of the table.
"No more than you have, pipsqueak," Qrow replied, looking up with an alert look that dispelled any fears. "I imagine we've left them a lot to think about."
"Yeah, I suppose. I just want to know what comes next," Ruby lamented.
Qrow's eyes flickered up and narrowed. "Well, maybe we won't have long to find out."
Jaune turned to follow Qrow's gaze, to see five distinctive figures in customised Atlesian uniforms nearing the table. He swiftly recognised them: it was the team from last night. Their leader, a tall, brown-haired man in a sleeveless uniform, raised both hands up in a placating gesture.
"Don't worry, we just wanted to see how you were doing, and clear the air a little, maybe introduce ourselves. We can chalk up last night to a misunderstanding."
"You could have asked," observed Weiss.
"And you could have listened to air traffic control," their leader replied with an easy smile. "Like I said, a misunderstanding, but one I'm glad's been cleared up."
"So, you're the Ace Ops?" Qrow said between bites. "The General's 'elite'?"
"We like to think so. I'm Clover. This here is Elm and Vine," he nodded to the taller pair on his right, then to the pair on the left. "And this is Harriet and Marrow."
"Good to meet you–" Ruby said, before being cut off, as the tall, muscular woman – Elm – took hold of her proffered hand in an enthusiastic grip.
"I'm so sorry!" she said as she pumped the arm vigorously. "If only we'd known who you were, I'm sure it'd have been a much better night."
"That's okay," Ruby said, with unsure glances at Oscar and Weiss either side of her. "You were only doing your job. I can see why it looked suspicious."
"Yeah, what was it you said, Clover?" the spike-haired woman – Harriet – said. "They're either agents of Salem and know what they're doing, or they don't?"
"Not exactly what I said, Hare," Clover chided, before turning back with a smile. "The General has mentioned you've seen some action against our enemies. Any stories you'd mind sharing with us?"
"Well, I suppose we could," Yang said a grin taking form.
As the other end of the table fell into conversation, Jaune looked at the aloof pair before him. Harriet still seemed a little prickly, so he glanced at her taller partner, a dark-skinned man with black-green hair, and a distinctively canine tail.
"You were the one who took me down last night," Jaune remembered. "That was… pretty efficient."
"Well, that's how we handle things in the Ace Ops," Marrow boasted. "Cool and efficient."
Harriet gave a snort, but Pyrrha giggled. Surprised, Jaune shot her a quizzical look.
"What's so funny?" Marrow asked, some insecurity seeping into his voice.
"Oh, don't worry," Pyrrha reassured him. "It's just you remind me a little of the first time I met Jaune."
Jaune groaned, thinking back. Listening to his dad's rather regrettable advice, his attempt at false bravado, approaching Weiss before initiation…
"I take it that's not a good thing," Marrow asked, worried by Jaune's reaction.
"I should think not," muttered Weiss from the other side of Pyrrha.
"No, it's not," he agreed, embarrassed.
"Cheer up Jaune, it wasn't without its charms," Pyrrha said, bumping his shoulder with her own. "Though they are clearer without the act."
"'No schemes, no pick-up lines, just be honest?'" he quoted, turning to look at her.
A smile came to her lips. "Something like that," she said softly.
He gazed at her for a moment, before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked to see it was Marrow's tail, wagging. The man himself was smiling at them, while Harriet simply smirked, and Weiss looked on with a raised eyebrow from beside them.
"Don't let us interrupt you," Marrow teased.
They blushed, and for a second glanced awkwardly at each other, before Jaune chose to deflect. "So er… yes, putting on a front is bad! Just be yourself!"
"But I wasn't–" Marrow protested but was cut off by Harriet.
"The kid's got a point, rookie," she said, rolling her eyes.
Marrow's tail briefly drooped as his shoulders slumped, but then he visibly pulled himself up.
"So, what are your names?" he asked. He looked at the white-haired girl next to Pyrrha. "Weiss Schnee, I presume?"
"I am," Weiss, replied, apparently unperturbed at being so easily recognised. Marrow turned to the others.
"Jaune Arc," Jaune offered.
"John?" asked Marrow.
"Jaune," he repeated, emphasising the pronunciation.
"Juan?"
"Now you're just doing this deliberately," Jaune muttered, to a grin from Marrow.
"And I'm Pyrrha," his partner offered with a slight smile of her own.
"Pyrrha Nikos?" Harriet spoke up. "I thought I recognised you. What was it they called you on the tournament circuit, 'The Invincible Girl'?"
Pyrrha's smile froze. "I've been called that," she admitted with a fixed expression.
"Well, you kids all went down quickly enough last night," Harriet said, "but perhaps you'd like a rematch?"
Jaune felt a momentary impulse to take offense on Pyrrha's behalf, but then he saw her false smile crack with a flash of real interest.
"I'm sure we can arrange that," she replied with a gleam in her eye.
"Hey, Hare!" Elm called over from the other end of the table. "Not everything has to be a competition!"
"There's nothing wrong with a bit of a contest!" Harriet shot back.
"I honestly don't mind," Pyrrha said.
"See, she doesn't mind!" Harriet called back.
"As long as it's within reason," Clover ordered. "We're all on the same side here. Hopefully we'll get the chance to work together."
"You think so?" asked Ruby.
"Well, I don't know what the General's planning, but–" Clover began.
"She might," Qrow spoke up, gesturing towards someone behind them. That person being Winter Schnee.
Winter approached the table with a distinctly un-casual bearing. Dressed like the day before in an immaculate white and blue uniform, her eyes seemed hard as they swept over the group, softening only momentarily as they passed over Weiss. Seeing her again, Jaune could see the familial resemblance, though she was significantly taller than her sister and while she shared her distinctive white hair, Winter's dark eyebrows appeared to lend her gaze greater force.
"Clover, Qrow," Winter greeted them, a slight edge on the second name. "The General would like to see you now. He'd also like to see the team leaders." She glanced at Ruby and Jaune in turn, making clear who she meant.
Jaune stood. Though worded as such, it didn't sound like a request. He glanced at Pyrrha, an unspoken question on his lips. She nodded, setting her seal on their earlier discussions. As he moved to follow Winter, Ruby looked almost positively eager. Knowing her, he understood.
It was time to find out what came next.
-000-
General James Ironwood looked through the window once more, watching the city below. He often found himself doing this. He'd done it last night. He'd been doing it this morning when Winter entered the office. He supposed he couldn't blame her when she'd carefully asked whether he'd actually left his office.
He had. He'd tried, as he'd said. He'd promised her, after all. She was right about the need for sleep. But sleep, even when it came, seemed to do little to stop what he saw whenever he closed his eyes.
He looked once more. He looked to reassure himself. That Atlas was still there. That it wasn't in flames.
…Sometimes he felt he could see the flames even when his eyes were open.
No! He couldn't, he wouldn't, let that happen! And yet that was easier said than done. He could try to avoid the mistake they'd all committed at Beacon, the passivity that saw them do little or nothing as they knew their enemies were making their move. And yet much of the strength he'd brought with him there had been twisted against them: his own ship hijacked, the others downed to its guns, and the androids he'd brought turned by that damnable virus on the people they were intended to protect.
He forced his fists to unclench, took several breaths to calm themselves. She was coming, that he knew, and they weren't ready. They'd tried to patch their code, remove vulnerabilities, replace automated units with valuable humans where they could. But they'd yet to identify who the culprit was who'd compromised their systems, nor had her other agents been apprehended. For much of the last year, he'd placed his hope on one slender plan; one plan which, from what he knew, offered them the best chance of victory. And then yesterday he'd found he didn't know nearly enough.
It was better to know, he told himself. But it was a bitter pill, nonetheless.
He heard the door to his office open as the others arrived. He continued to look out of the window, taking the opportunity to steel himself. Whatever happened, he would do what he could to keep his home safe. He'd see they'd do whatever they could to stop Salem. Whatever happened, he would never give up.
He turned to look at those who'd entered his office. Qrow Branwen, a frequently frustrating man with whom he'd often butted heads, but a talented huntsman and now a reassuring presence, a sign he need not fight this war alone. Clover Ebi: skilled, reliable, and lucky. And Winter, his right arm, one he'd come to depend on almost as much as the protheses that'd replaced the real right side of his body. And finally, the two trainee leaders: Ruby Rose, a heroic young prodigy he'd already met, and finally Jaune Arc, the real unknown quantity in this meeting. He knew little of him at all, save that he was Miss Nikos' partner.
"We're continuing the Amity project," he announced. "It may not offer the complete solution we were looking for, but our enemies destroyed Beacon's CCT for a reason. If they did that, despite compromising it with the virus, the CCT must somehow be a threat to Salem's plans. Restoring global communications must therefore be a priority, and Amity will prevent her doing the same again."
"Does that mean you're going to tell everyone about Salem?" It was Ruby who asked the first question.
"I'm… I'm not sure," he sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'm still convinced that if we do not change our approach, it will kill us. But if we tell the truth we now know, we may risk overwhelming panic, even defection. And if we tell in part… well that might store up risk for the future, and a conventional coalition will not defeat her in any case. But perhaps that's a decision we can make at a later date."
"Does this mean any change in regard to resource allocation?" Clover asked. "Or the dust embargo or border closure? We may not be able to placate Robyn, but it may make the situation in Mantle easier."
"We can look at rebalancing some resources," Ironwood replied, turning and pacing as he spoke. "It would delay Amity somewhat, but perhaps the pay-off would be worth it. She'll come for us sooner or later, Amity or not. As for the embargo or reopening the border…"
He pinched his nose in thought, closing his eyes. For a second, he contemplated both options, but then felt a sudden clench of his stomach. He had to restrain a shudder as he thought about leaving themselves exposed like that, leaving themselves as open as…
"No," he said curtly, turning back towards them. "No, we can't risk it. If we're right, then she'll move against us the moment she learns about Amity, and if we relax those measures, she will hear about it. We're not ready, and until Amity is finally aloft, it is vulnerable." He took a breath. "Once Amity is up and secure, we can end the embargo and reopen the border, but not before."
Clover and Winter nodded, accepting the order. Qrow kept his own counsel.
"So, what about us?" asked Ruby. "Why are we here?"
"Because, Miss Rose, Qrow, Mister Arc," Ironwood looked at each in turn, "I'd really appreciate your help. You know what's at stake. You've fought Salem's agents at Beacon and Haven. Sooner or later, she will strike here for the relics. And while it may not be able to accomplish all that I'd hoped it would, I believe the Amity project can help."
"We'll do it," Ruby answered swiftly. "You can count on Team RWBY!"
"You don't need to ask your team?"
"We've already spoken. We think restoring the CCT would be a good thing too."
Ironwood turned to Qrow.
"If my nieces are here, you can count me in too," Qrow said. "Besides, I can hardly leave saving the world up to you, James."
"Of course not," Ironwood replied. It reminded him of their old exchanges, but there was no heat to it. "Glad to have you on board, Qrow. And what about you, Mister Arc?"
The blond huntsman-in-training scratched the back of his head. "Well, we're prepared to help. But as you probably noticed, we're not a full team. It's just the two of us."
"I had noticed." Ironwood paused, not wanting to open potential wounds, but feeling the need to know. "I don't wish to be indelicate, but what happened to the other half of your team?" Had his team suffered loss? Or had they refused to follow him?
Arc seemed to catch on quickly, at least to first unspoken question. "Oh, they're alright! They're alive and well in Argus. We wouldn't have made it there without them."
"In Argus? Do they know what we're up against? Did they drop out?" Was it learning the truth about Salem?
"They know," Arc replied, "or at least as much as we did. But they've not er… 'dropped out'. It's just that they had to stay behind for personal reasons. They'll try and help out there as much as they can. They're staying with Pyrrha's mother."
"Miss Nikos has family in Argus?"
"We both do. My sister and her family live there too. I'm kind of glad Ren and Nora are there to keep an eye on them, and vice-versa."
Not a schism from the sounds of it, Ironwood thought. That was better, at least. "I imagine that after your… acquisition of an airship, your reputation with Commander Cordovin is rather mixed?"
The boy chuckled awkwardly, while Ruby reddened. "You could say that," Arc said.
"I'm sure I can send word to Cordovin on their behalf, vouching for them. For that matter, we send a regular courier ship to the Argus Military Base, ferrying letters between soldiers and their families. A few extra letters shouldn't take up too much space."
"Thank you, General, we'd appreciate that."
"I'd make you the same offer, Miss Rose, but Patch and Menagerie are a bit beyond our reach. And Miss Schnee's family are close at hand," Ironwood said, glancing at Winter at the last.
"That's okay, General," Ruby said. "It's another reason for us to be happy to help with the CCT, at least."
"Quite." He turned his attention back to blond huntsman. "To answer your point, Mister Arc, there are certainly situations where a full team is useful, even necessary. But we could also do with the help of every trustworthy huntsman and huntress we can find. As much as I'm sure we'd all rather have your full team here, I can still make use of you and your partner. And for those times where a full team is needed, well, I'm sure we can work something out." The General found himself glancing at Winter once more, feeling the ghost of an idea niggle at the edge of his mind. He pushed it aside for now. "The question is, are you willing?"
"We are. Both of us," the boy answered.
"Excellent," Ironwood nodded, then glanced at the others once more. "I'm glad to hear you're all with us."
"It looks like we'll get that chance to work together after all," Clover added with a smile.
"So where do we begin?" Ruby asked enthusiastically.
"We'll begin with a mission to clear out the launch site for Amity, but it'll take time to prepare for that." Ironwood paused for a moment, and stroked his beard in thought, considering the matter before he remembered one conversation this morning. He looked back up. "It may interest you to know that I had Doctor Polendina call, wanting to vouch for you. He made quite an appeal on your behalf, until I assured him we'd resolved any misunderstandings. Since he's eager to help out, let's see about making sure you have the best equipment Atlas has to offer first."
Ruby gave a whispered cheer. Arc seemed oddly pensive, but it didn't look like he was turning down the offer.
"Well, if there are no further questions–" Ironwood began.
"General?" asked Ruby.
"Yes, Miss Rose?"
She looked up at him, a determined glint in her silver eyes. "No matter what we've learned… I don't think we should give up on defeating Salem. For good I mean."
A slight smile comes to Ironwood's lips. He was reminded of the time when she'd stood in Ozpin's office, younger even then she was now, after she alone had faced their infiltrator in the CCT. He'd told her then she'd done exactly as a huntress should, and he was heartened to see she still had the same instinct.
"Neither do I, Miss Rose. Neither do I."
-000-
The General's request hadn't come as a complete surprise to Pyrrha. The possibility of upgrades had. Until now she'd kept her equipment much the same as it was at Beacon. It wasn't her equipment that she'd blamed, after all.
Perhaps Haven was a reason to reconsider. But then there was the matter of who was helping provide the upgrades.
The door to Doctor Polendina's office slid open, and Ruby and Weiss emerged, Ruby chatting happily.
"An unlimited dust budget, Weiss! Do you know what that means?"
Weiss rolled her eyes. "Strangely, Ruby, yes, I do know what it means to have access to a considerable supply of dust. Remember?"
"Oh yeah," Ruby said a little sheepishly, before regaining her enthusiasm. "But Crescent Rose doesn't. She's going to be so happy!" She caught sight of Jaune and Pyrrha, equipment in hand. "Hey guys, waiting for your turn?"
"That's right, Rubes. All free?"
"All yours," she smiled, tugging Weiss out of the way to a muffled protest. "See you guys later!"
Jaune chuckled, and with a smile at Pyrrha preceded her through the doorway. She followed him through, entering into Doctor Polendina's office. His other office, as far removed from his little clinic in Mantle in terms of resources and equipment as Atlas was physically from Mantle.
"Please, take a seat," the doctor said, not looking up. He was sat behind a busy desk upon his ambulatory chair, making a few notes on his Scroll. A couple of empty chairs sat in front of the desk, while the rest of the office was filled with machinery that Pyrrha didn't dare guess the function of. Several cases sat on to one side, and two empty ones lay open, doubtless for their own equipment after they'd handed them over.
She sat in one of the empty chairs as Jaune did the same, both placing their weapons beside them.
"Hi Doctor Polendina," Jaune said in his artlessly genuine way. "We're here to discuss upgrades."
The doctor chuckled. "Of course you are. And please, call me Pietro." He looked up at them. Or perhaps, to be more exact, he looked up at Jaune. His eyes seemed to shy away from Pyrrha.
Of course. Now he knows. She'd connected the dots, realised it was Penny he referred to as a daughter. So what must he think of me?
The doctor turned to the screen on his desk, tapping out commands until he'd pulled up the information he was looking for. "We can discuss any requests you have for upgrades," he said. "However, I've also taken the liberty to begin reviewing your Vytal festival performance, so as to make my own recommendations."
Pyrrha felt her gut lurch. Try as she might, she could only think of one fight that festival. And from the way he avoided her glance, so could he. And their need for upgrades was forcing him to see it again?
"I'm sorry!" she blurted out.
"Pyrrha?" Jaune asked, concern in his eyes as he reached out towards her.
She kept her attention on the man behind the desk. "I'm so sorry for what happened to Penny. I… I didn't mean to. I know I can't–"
The doctor held a hand up, cutting her off. He took off his small oval glasses and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, before replacing the glasses at looking up at her. Her heart seized as she saw the tears in his eyes. But then his eyes softened.
"My dear, I don't blame you for that. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression," he said gently, and Pyrrha felt tears come to her own eyes. "It's… it's difficult sometimes," he continued. "Understand that seeing my Penny… watching that happen was one of the hardest things in my life. Anything that reminds me… But the General passed me the reports soon after. I know it wasn't your fault."
"But to see it again…?" she asked.
"I didn't. I had no need to see that again, and I hope I never will. In any case, your other fights were more educational." He gave a half-smile, then looked at her again. "You heard Penny. She doesn't hold it against you. So how could I?"
"I could tell she was still a bit uncomfortable," Pyrrha said.
"Well of course she was. She feels like we do, fears like we do, but that doesn't mean she blames you! She's good and honest and means what she says." Pietro gave a more genuine smile at this. "In fact, if I know my girl, give it enough time and she'll want to be friends. All I'd ask is that you treat her as one and be considerate of her feelings."
"Of course," Pyrrha said without reservation.
"How did you bring her back?" asked Jaune. "Like, I know she's a robot, but she's also real."
"That she is. Like I said, we needed her core, and thankfully that was intact. But hardware is only part of what makes Penny who she is. She's unique because she has aura."
"Aura being the reflection of a soul," murmured Pyrrha. "How did you produce it?"
"We can't produce Aura, let alone souls. What we can do is transfer aura."
Pyrrha suddenly thought of a darkened vault, of pain that reached deep inside. "The aura transfer machine," she realised with some horror.
"You know of it?" Pietro asked with some surprise, before a flash of understanding crossed his features. "Wait, that was you?! What happened? I understand it was interrupted."
"It was," Pyrrha remembered. "And before that it was most unpleasant."
"Now I'm the one who's sorry," Pietro said. "It wasn't the intended use. I wasn't even allowed to be privy to most of the details, and we couldn't predict for sure what would happen."
"Whose aura did you transfer to make Penny?" asked Jaune.
"Now that I can answer," Pietro replied. He then closed his eyes.
They looked on as a green aura shimmered into existence around the scientist. Yet as Pyrrha watched, it flickered. Worse, there were holes in it, gaps around which the aura showed blackened edges.
"You gave her part of yours?" she breathed in shock.
The doctor let his aura fade and reopened his eyes. "Of course," he said with a gentle smile. "I'd never ask anyone else to give up something so precious and, well, when I call her my daughter, I'm not just taking poetic license. Every part of me went into making her. The work of my body," he held up a hand, "my mind," he tapped his head, "and my soul." His expression then turned rueful as he shook his head. "But there's only so much to give. I needed to give a second portion when we revived her. But I would not survive a third."
"I'm sorry," Pyrrha whispered again.
"Now we've covered that," he said with a gentle rebuke, before sighing and settling back in his chair. "She and I have a second chance. Not many people get that."
That was true, Pyrrha supposed. And perhaps she had one too.
"I'm… glad we had the chance to discuss this. And I hope you are too, my dear," Pietro added with a smile. "But perhaps we'd better get onto this matter of upgrades. Did either of you have any requests?"
"Armour," Jaune insisted abruptly.
Pyrrha turned to look at him curiously, surprised at his swift answer.
"Well, you already wear more armour than most huntsmen," Pietro replied, "but I'm sure we can come up with some improvements."
"Not for me," Jaune said firmly. "For her." He nodded towards Pyrrha, turning to look at her.
She looked back at him, but his gaze was unwavering. Part of her couldn't help but like moments like this, when the strength she'd sensed in him came to the surface. Yet she raised her eyebrow in confusion at his sudden resolve.
"Something that covers more vital organs," he explained softly, but no less firmly.
She looked back at him and found herself idly brushing her scar. The one a little way below the clavicle, the one more faded than she had any right to expect. The one Cinder gave her at Haven.
"Well, I had been considering a few changes," she allowed. Mollified, Jaune gave a small smile in return.
"Well, much of that won't require my personal expertise, but I'm sure we can handle that," Pietro said.
"Perhaps some changes to better suit the climate too," Pyrrha added. After all, an outfit designed to be eye-catching in Mistral's tournament circuit was less than ideal this far north.
"Of course," Pietro nodded, making a few notes. "And no change in armour for you?" he asked Jaune.
"Well, I won't say no," Jaune replied in his more usual tone. "But Pyrrha's is more important."
"Jaune," she reproached him.
"Mine already cover the lungs," he said peevishly.
"…Point taken," she admitted.
Pietro chuckled. "Moving onto weapons," he said, "young Ruby suggested a ranged option for you, young man."
"Of course, she did," Jaune laughed.
"As much as Ruby would try to attach a gun to almost anything, it's not a bad idea," Pyrrha suggested.
"No, it isn't," Jaune confessed, "but aside from the couple of times you showed me how to use Miló, I have no experience with firearms, and I'm not sure Crocea Mors would make a good gun."
"Well, I agree that it might be best to hold off on a firearm until you've had more training," Pietro said. "However, I do think I have a few ideas for your shield…"
-000-
Jaune tried his best to ignore the rattling of the Manta. Ren's aura techniques helped. So did focusing his attention on his Scroll, rather than looking outside. Though he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid looking outside for much longer.
He turned his attention back to the map. SDC Mine #2, the chosen preparation ground for Amity Arena, had three entrances but was a tangled mess once inside. Atlesian forces had cleared the surrounding terrain, but a Petra Gigas had managed to fight them off and retreat into the abandoned mine. The mere fact of retreat in any Grimm was alarming. It meant that it was old. That it had learned.
Not that a Petra Gigas would be easy at the best of times. He remembered the one they fought in Anima. An assemblage of rock and other materials, animated by the quasi-immaterial form of a Geist. Its only vulnerability would be the bony plate that formed its face, but that was a tiny target when the Petra Gigas would tower over them. Thus, the Ace Ops were being sent in to hunt it down, but since they didn't have the numbers to comb the place alone, Qrow, Team RWBY and Jaune and Pyrrha had been sent teamed up alongside them.
"It's time!" Harriet barked, and then she slid the hatch open. The air howled as it whistled past the open doorway. Tucking the scroll away, Jaune stood, making sure Crocea Mors was firmly attached to his forearm. Seeing a glance of the world through the hatch, he nervously ran a hand through his hair. He'd managed to have it trimmed after they'd received their upgrades. It wasn't as quite as short as Nora had suggested, but Pyrrha had vetoed that for some reason. He still wasn't quite sure why she got a veto over his hair.
"Ready?" Marrow asked in a loud voice. Jaune nodded, noting Pyrrha did the same. "We'll see you on the ground then!" the Ace Op said, before he turned and jumped out of the Manta, Harriet but a whisker after him.
He glanced at Pyrrha, happy to see her now wearing armour that swept up to her gorget, protecting her whole torso, while pauldrons protected her shoulders. A dark undershirt provided protection from the elements too, though with aura Jaune knew that was less of a worry. Still, better to be safe than sorry. She smiled back at him.
"Ladies first?" he joked nervously, then stepped forwards to jump out.
She stretched out her arm, placing a restraining hand on his breastplate. "Actually Jaune, I'd like to take you up on that."
He realised her unspoken intent. If she went first, she'd be in a better position to help out if something went wrong. He didn't take it as a knock against his pride. Perhaps he would have done, once, but that'd be foolish. After all, this was technically only the second time of him even needing a landing strategy, and the first time he'd have died without her intervention.
"Okay, if you feel that's best," he said.
"Perhaps I just want a better view," she said. "You can do this Jaune. You have aura now, in any case, but you can do this."
"Thanks," he said, clasping the hand she had on his breastplate.
"Just give me a few seconds, but don't worry. I know you've got this."
He smiled back at her, warmed by her sincerity. It was nice to have that back: her belief in him, her reassurance, her support, and he being able to support her in turn.
She turned and leapt out of the craft. Jaune fought a rebellious stomach as he saw her plummet.
Perhaps things were becoming like old times. He hoped so. He didn't want to lose that. Not again. And yet part of him wanted something more. And knew she did too, at one point. But did she still? And was it even a good idea?
If he wanted to move forward, he knew they needed to talk, really talk, about what had happened. About all that had transpired since the fall, including certain words that had been said. It was easy to suppose such things had been spoken in the heat of the moment, or under the great stress that'd hung over them since the fall of Beacon, that perhaps they were regretted. He got that. But some words and some worries were proving hard to forget. They left him unsure about where things stood. And yet he didn't want to risk reopening wounds, nor endanger their newly regained rapport.
The last year should have taught him time was precious. And it had, but it had also taught him what he could lose. Perhaps he was being a coward, but it just always seemed a little easier to put the conversation off. Not that there was time for it right now. But at this moment, it really felt like it required less courage to jump out of an airship.
Speaking of which…
He took a deep breath, voiced one last hope, and dove through the open hatch. He felt the wind roar around him as he fell out of the sky. Using every ounce of what Ren had taught him, he pushed his nausea down and made sure he was level. Then he held his weapon above his head, and switched his scabbard into its shield mode, and then triggered its new hard-light function.
He felt a sudden jolt as his descent suddenly slowed. With the hard-light barriers forming two wings either side of his shield, he began to glide rather than just fall. He felt a moment of exhilaration, and for a second allowed himself to enjoy it. Just for a second.
The ground was still rising fairly rapidly, but no longer at the breakneck speed he would be doing otherwise. He braced himself for the last step in his landing strategy. As the ground approach he suddenly cut the hard-light wings and lurched downwards. As he dropped, he brought his shield down, pointing the face downward, and then triggered a burst of its gravity dust. A sudden repulsive force broke his remaining speed, allowing him to fall the remaining distance onto his feet.
He stood upon the ground, without even a wobble. For a moment he laughed out loud in elation. He'd done it. And smoother, he felt, then many of his erstwhile fellow students, or at least with a lot less gunfire.
"Well, I think that went better than last time!" he heard Pyrrha tease, but as he turned, he saw she was beaming.
"That's not an exactly high bar," he pointed out, a smile on his own lips.
"Much better then," she said, lightly thumping his shoulder.
"At least you didn't get yourselves killed," a voice cut in. They turned to see Harriet glowering at them. "Come one, we have work to do!" Without looking back, she turned and stalked off towards the mine entrance.
They glanced at each other, then at the remaining Ace Op, who looked back rather awkwardly.
"Er… don't take it personally," Marrow said. "She means well. I think."
Author Note: My apologies for how long it took for this update to appear! Hopefully – while it may take a couple of weeks between updates – there won't be a delay of that order again!
Thanks for all the reviews/comments/follows & favourites etc, it was all much appreciated and very encouraging. The support was very helpful indeed.