Arc-ventures across the multiverse

by Alvaaron

RWBY and friends gather to watch the adventures of Jaune across the multiverse. A collection of crossovers and one shot ideas for your reading pleasure. Enjoy

39. Chapter 38: City in the clouds

Disclaimer, I do not own RWBY or any of the franchises referenced in this work

Chapter 38: City in the clouds

Inspiration: Bioshock Infinite

"Welcome back, the next viewing is just about ready." Blank greeted cheerfully as his audience filed back into the theatre.

"So, what do we have today?" Ruby asked.

"A slightly different sort of universe, well, universes but that part's not quite relevant at the moment." Blank answered.

"Yeah… that makes about as much sense as Qrow does after the seventh bottle." Taiyang muttered.

"Oi." Qrow shot his brother-in-law a glare.

"This universe is messy, very, very messy. Oh, and it brings in the composites too." Blank said.

"Composites?" Blake raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. In some worlds your, how shall we say, counterparts don't exist as you've seen so far. Instead, there's a composite that's basically a combination of people." Blank said, getting more than a few confused looks in return.

"Uh… I understood some of those words." Yang said.

"For example, a world where you and Ruby are one individual that shares traits both of you have. Ah, I suppose it'll be easier to see it in action." Blank replied.

"A world where me and Yang are the same person, so… I'll be taller?" Ruby asked.

"…In some worlds where your composites exist, yes. Ahem, let's get on with the viewing now." Blank confirmed before flickering and causing the lights to dim.

Jaune blinked and screwed his eyes shut with a curse, raising a hand to rub the water out of his eyes. The stinging rain came down in sheets, slapping him over and over with the fury of an angry god. To compound his misery, he was trapped on a dingy little rowboat that threatened to break apart with the next swell.

Stomach flipping and twisting into knots, Jaune's gorge rose and it took all of his willpower to not hurl over the side. Between his nausea and the herd of elephants dancing inside his skull, all Jaune wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sink into sweet merciful unconsciousness.

"And I'm so glad that's not me there." Jaune shuddered. A rickety rowboat in the middle of a storm was something he'd like to stay far, far away from. Nothing good could possibly come from that combination.

"Are you just going to sit there?" A loud voice intruded into Jaune's buzzing head. Wincing, he looked up, squinting through the rain. Two poor sods were stuck on this cursed vessel with him, albeit in much better shape. One male, one female and both of them had rain coats while he was soaked to the bone in his regular attire.

"As compared to what? Standing?" The female passenger fired back.

"Not standing. Rowing." The man grunted, physically straining from the effort needed to row the boat against the current.

"Rowing? I hadn't planned on it." The woman replied before grabbing a box from under the seat. Turning around, she handed it over to Jaune, giving him a good look at her features. Ebony hair and crimson eyes, just like the man working the oars.

"Joy. Manual labour. How wonderful." Qrow snarked and rolled his eyes, none too pleased to see his predicament or Raven's usual disinterested self.

"Someone's got to do the heavy lifting, might as well be you. Makes up for dragging your drunk butt everywhere." Taiyang ribbed.

"Low hanging fruit dear." And Summer promptly slapped him on the back of his head for it.

The physical similarities between his fellow passengers were striking. Siblings? Possible twins? Jaune shook his head as another sudden jolt of pain shot through it, covering up the sudden agony with a cough, he accepted the box. "What's this?"

"No, but I do expect you to do all the rowing." The woman ignored Jaune's question, already returning to bickering with her… twin? Jaune frowned and inspected the box for answers instead.

'This… is mine. Did I bring it for the… the… ahg! The job! Yes… the job. The job that he was here for.' Jaune winced, a new spike of pain slowly fading. The box was old and the lettering on it slightly faded but still legible. All things considered, it was pretty well cared for and in good condition… better than he remembered it to be.

Property of Jaune Arc, 7th Cavalry, Wounded Knee.

"Wounded Knee? Did he get shot with an arrow or something?" Nora asked.

"It is an… unorthodox name for a combat unit." Ironwood added.

"Neither. Wounded Knee was a battlefield this Jaune Arc served at." Blank said.

"Ah, an award then." Winter nodded in understanding.

"Indeed, although it's not one that he's proud of." Blank said but offered no more explanation.

"And why is that?" Qrow asked.

"Coming here was your idea." Raven retorted.

"My idea?" He sputtered.

"I've made it very clear I don't believe in the exercise." She fired back and Jaune could hear the eyeroll.

"The rowing?"

"No. I imagine that's wonderful exercise."

"Then what?"

"The entire thought experiment." Raven declared with finality.

"And I'm lost again. What does rowing a boat have to do with thinking exercise?" Ruby looked to Blank for answers.

"Nothing and everything. Like I said, this universe is very messy. Suffice to say, they're at odds over whether their effort will amount to anything in the end." Blank replied.

Jaune frowned and shook his head, they'd clearly had this argument multiple times before. Listening to them prattle on and on was worsening his headache. Thinking hurt, this had to be the worst damn hangover he'd ever had.

'Damnit, why the heck was I drinking before the job? Argh! I'm too sober for this.' Jaune bit back a curse, he could see a lighthouse's beam cutting through the fog in the distance. That had to be their destination, once he was ashore, maybe there'd be warm clothes and a hot meal… ah a man could dream.

"Excuse me, how much longer?" He asked, eager to be back on dry land. It wouldn't help the infernal headache plaguing him, but at least his motion sickness would stop punching him in the gut.

"Ooh, that's rough buddy. Been there too many times too." Qrow muttered sympathetically.

"If you would just cut down on your drinking, it wouldn't be so much of an issue." Goodwitch shot him a disapproving look.

"Hey, some people live to drink. I drank to live. Alcohol wasn't the question, it was the answer." Qrow shrugged and to prove his point, drank deeply from his flask.

"An answer worth zero points." Goodwitch shook her head.

"Maybe, but an answer all the same." Qrow shrugged again.

"One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail." Qrow said.

"But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one has failed." Raven replied.

And they were ignoring him completely. Jaune sighed and unlocked the box in hand. Odd, he didn't recognise the contents, did he replace them before leaving?

A post card of some 'monument island', a code of some sort, scroll, key and a sword, whatever that meant. Then there was a pistol in there, a model he didn't recognize. Definitely not one of his, packaged with the job?

"Oooh, vintage with a touch of modernity. Very nice." Ruby eyed the pistol appreciatively.

"You mean obsolete." Weiss said.

"That'll work." He muttered and holstered the pistol. The weight immediately putting him more at ease. Garbage weather and stormy seas aside, it felt good to be back in the field once more, after so lon-

"Kuh!" Jaune's headache worsened again before fading to a dull throb, leaving him weakened and drained. He could drink just about anyone under the table with nothing more than a light headache the next day. How much had he drunk last night?

In any case, there were still other miscellaneous things inside the box. Some photos of his target, a young woman, instructions on the back. 'Yang. Bring to Vale unharmed.'

"My hair! What happened to my hair!?" Yang stared in disbelief. Her beautiful blonde hair was now black and red like Ruby's and… while not exactly a mess, had certainly lost its personality. All of her curls had vanished, instead her long hair was just left straight and done up in a ponytail.

"That's what you're worried about?" Blake raised an eyebrow.

"Hair!" Yang insisted.

"Uh huh, so why's fearless leader being paid to kidnap Yang?" Nora asked.

"It's more rescue mission actually, but his head isn't in the right place at the moment and the details of why he's really here are lost to him." Blank explained.

"Why's everyone looking at me?" Qrow asked when he felt several gazes land on him.

"Drinking enough before a mission to forget the actual mission. Are we sure this version of Arc isn't a composite with Branwen?" Winter muttered dubiously.

"I'm not that bad!" Qrow defended himself.

Right, right, it was coming back to him now. 'Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt.' Jaune mouthed the words, despising the way they sounded. Slamming the box shut, Jaune inhaled sharply and slowly exhaled.

His opinion on the job was irrelevant. He owed money, big money to some real nasty folk. This job was his last chance to wipe the slate clean, to start over. Become a new man. And if that meant bringing this girl to them… so be it.

"He's in debt to the mob? Yeesh, better not fail or a hangover will be the least of his problems." Roman muttered. Neo nodded and helpfully ran a finger across her throat for emphasis.

"What the hell he sell his soul for anyways?" Torchwick looked over at Blank.

"Alcohol and poor gambling. The original idea was to drown his sorrows but it just dug him a bigger hole in the end." Blank replied.

"So. Branwen then." Winter reiterated.

"I suppose he does. But there's no point in asking." Jaune's attention was dragged back to the bickering duo. What had they been talking about again?

"Why not?" Raven asked.

"Because he doesn't row."

"He doesn't row?"

"No. He doesn't row." Qrow repeated.

"Ah, I see what you mean." She nodded.

'See? See what? Must be some kind of twin thing.' Jaune thought. The more he listened to them, the more confused he became. If this was their idea of asking him to contribute to the rowing, there were better ways of going about it. Like actually asking him to row the goddamned boat.

Not that it mattered anymore, the wharf was already in sight. Just a few more seconds of rowing and they'd be there.

"We've arrived." Raven said, addressing Jaune for the first time. Their boat pulled up next to a wooden ladder and Jaune took that as his cue to leave. Grabbing the wooden rungs, he hauled himself up onto solid ground, glad to leave the rickety boat behind.

Shielding his face with his hand, he cast his gaze about, taking in his surroundings. A miserable little lighthouse in a storm, that's all the place was. If the mainland was nearby, it was impossible to see with the bleak weather. If ever a place classified as 'the middle of nowhere', this was it.

"Cheerful place. Gorgeous view, excellent weather. Five stars would visit again." Mercury snarked.

"Shall we tell him when we'll be returning?" Raven asked.

"Would that change anything?" Qrow replied, already beginning to row away.

"It might give him some comfort."

"At least that's something we can agree on."

"Hey! Is somebody meeting me here!?" Jaune called out to them. If they were than just ferrymen and knew what he was here for… they clearly didn't have very high expectations for him.

"I'd certainly hope so!" Qrow shouted back, voice already diminishing in the howling wind.

"It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded!" Raven added.

"Ah… well, maybe there's someone inside." Jaune muttered under his breath. Job was certainly off a great start. The wharf was deserted, but the lighthouse was lit, so someone had to be running the place.

"There are automated lighthous-" Ren started, only to be silenced by a fistful of popcorn from Nora.

"Shh, watch now. Lighthouses are never normal. Ever." Nora said.

Jogging up to the lighthouse entrance, Jaune shot the raging seas one last glance. The boat was nowhere to be seen and any chance of him getting off this island went with it. Sighing, he shook his head to rid himself of his doubts, there was no turning back anyways, not for him, this was his last shot.

And if he needed anymore reminding, a note had been nailed to the door. 'Arc, bring us the girl and wipe away the debt. This is your last chance.'

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Jaune exhaled and rapped on the door, blinking in surprise when it swung open noiselessly with just a little bit of force. "Excuse me! It's Jaune Arc! I-I guess you're expecting me."

The ground floor was deserted too, without much in the way of furnishings. But Jaune welcomed any escape from the torrential downpour. Jaune hurriedly stepped through, immediately feeling the chill lift ever so slightly.

A washbasin had been setup on a table, a lit candle next to it. Jaune paused and approached it slowly, glancing into the basin, he saw his own distorted reflection staring back at him. A washed-up PI thoroughly beaten down by his own mistakes.

Splashing some clean water onto his face to wash away the grime and salt sticking to his skin, Jaune sighed and stepped away. His eyes were drawn upwards, to a neat and plain embroidery resting in a frame.

"Of thy sins, I shall wash thee." Jaune whispered and stepped away from the basin. Were it so easy to be cleansed.

"Good luck with that pal."

"There's a lot of guilt in him." Ozpin stated.

"Indeed. It's not too farfetched to say his entire life up to this point has been a series of bad decisions and worse circumstances. And he believes he's way past the point of redemption." Blank said.

"Is he?" Ruby asked in a small voice.

"No, that's why he's here. It's his last chance to settle the score and right the wrongs. He's just convinced himself that the mission is only about the money." Blank replied.

As the rumble of distant thunder faded and the howling winds died down, Jaune picked up the sound of music. A radio was on somewhere above him, and that had to mean someone else was present.

'Better not keep them waiting then.' Jaune began to climb the stairs, his waterlogged boots stomping and clanking on the rusted iron steps. More embroidery hung on the walls, all in the same vein as the one above the washbasin.

Whoever lived here must be a religious man, the exact opposite of him, the thought made him smile bitterly. "Is anyone here?"

No one replied. No challenge, no demands, no acknowledgement, just the music playing.

The second floor of the lighthouse was a mix of a study and a bedroom. A desk cluttered with papers and stationery sat in the corner with a bed next to it. A note had been pinned to the wall next to a departure and return schedule to Atlas. 'Be prepared. He is on his way. You must stop him. T.'

Jaune furrowed his brows at the message. 'Stop who? Me? That can't be right… and what's Atlas anyways?'

"What do you mean, what's Atlas? How can he not know what Atlas is?" Ironwood frowned.

"Maybe it's a universe where Atlas never split from Mantle?" Winter offered.

"Yes and no. This isn't the Remnant you're familiar with and Atlas isn't the Atlas you know either. You'll see shortly." Blank answered.

Answers weren't forthcoming. No one was around and the rest of the place was a wreck. Papers scattered everywhere, broken dishes on the floor and potatoes dumped all over. Not to mention the bed frame had been knocked askew… almost like a fight had happened here.

"What's this?" Jaune spotted something by the bed shining in the candlelight. Kneeling down, he reached for it and found several silver coins just sitting there.

"This isn't lien… an older currency? It looks new…" His PI instincts were kicking in again demanding that he go investigate. Flipping the coin in the air, Jaune caught it and placed it on top of the dresser.

'Focus Arc, the girl first, souvenir coins another time.'

Ascending to the third floor, his footsteps came to an abrupt halt at the landing. "…Shit."

Blood splatter everywhere and a figure slumped in a chair, blood pooling by his feet. Hands bound behind his back, a sack cloth draped over his head and a conspicuous bloody hole right through the centre…

Execution.

A sign had been written in the deceased's blood and propped up against his corpse. 'Don't disappoint us.'

"One hell of a message. This was ice cold." Mercury muttered.

"Not playing around, are they." Emerald said.

"Fear is an excellent motivator. An example to show failure will not be tolerated." Cinder analysed.

"Not quite in that manner, but you are right on the part where it's to reinforce the gravity of the situation." Blank added.

"Message received." Jaune grit his teeth. Nothing more he could here, so the lighthouse keeper wasn't his contact. But… when was he killed? The candles were still lit and the blood was fresh, the killer… killers? Had to have just left, but… did he miss them in the storm?

That didn't seem right.

No matter, nothing had changed. A job was a job and he didn't need anyone else reminding him this was his last chance before someone made him sit in that chair.

So, floors one through three were bust, that left the roof itself. Back in the rain it was.

"This must be it." Jaune muttered. The door to the lantern room was sealed by an ornate locking mechanism. Three bells inscribed with a scroll, a key and a sword.

"Wait a minute… that card." Retrieving the card from his box, Jaune held it up to the bells. It seemed they were less a code and more instructions. Without anything to lose, Jaune rang the bells in the order given and three lights lit up.

"Huh." Was that it? Jaune looked about, nothing was happening, the storm wasn't letting up, no one appeared to accost him.

Then, right as Jaune was about to head back down, a thunderous foghorn blast seemed to shake the very air itself. Jaune gripped the railings tight, red light cut through the dark clouds, turning night into some cursed facsimile of day.

"Atlas?" Weiss asked.

"Indeed." Blank confirmed.

"See, no such thing as a normal lighthouse. Oooh, maybe the whole thing is actually a rocket that'll take Jaune up to Atlas." Nora hazarded a guess.

"That's a little far fetched don't you think?" Jaune said.

"What in the world!?" Several more blasts threatened to deafen him. Jaune cursed and was two steps into his mad dash down the lighthouse when he noticed the floor had sealed up. A metal grate had locked into place, keeping him from the stairs. Only way down was over the railing.

Jaune backed away, leading as far into the guardrail as he dared. The lantern was acting up too, flaring red in response to the cursed light from the heavens… like it was sending a signal. Several more blasts from the skies, then the bells started ringing incessantly.

Despite the situation, Jaune couldn't help but marvel at what he was seeing. The locks were moving on their own, the lantern was retracting into the ceiling and a fancy chair replaced it. All of this, happening without human intervention. What sorcery was this!?

"Alright… looks like they expect me to sit in their fancy chair." Jaune muttered. The exit remained sealed and he didn't fancy his odds of surviving a plunge from this height, only one option left.

Plopping himself down, Jaune felt himself sink into the soft cushions. As far as chairs went, it had to be the most comfortable one he'd ever had the privilege of sitting in.

"So now wha-the hell!?" Jaune shouted in surprise. The instant he placed his arms on the armrests, manacles snapped up to ensnare him, locking him in place, and no matter how hard he struggled, they refused to budge.

"Make yourself ready pilgrim, the bindings are there as a safeguard." A recording played as multiple metal panels emerged from the floor, boxing him in.

"Pilgrim? Is that what they're calling prisoners these days?" Torchwick said.

His chair suddenly tipped forwards until his the backrest was almost parallel to the ground. Jaune cursed as his pistol slipped out of his jacket and fell into the void. A dull orange glow grew in intensity and Jaune could see flames igniting under him, not to mention the sudden burst of hot air singeing his face. "This can't be good…aah! No, no! Goddamnit!"

"Aha! It is a rocket!" Nora crowed victoriously.

"It wasn't the whole lighthouse though." Blake corrected.

"Blegh! I was still right! Half right!" Nora promptly stuck out her tongue at her.

"Ascension. Ascension in the count of five…" The pre-recorded message continued playing, its supposedly soothing tone doing absolutely nothing to calm Jaune's nerves.

Without warning, the chair snapped back upright and he no longer had to stare into the inferno under his feet. But the manacles remained fastened tight, not yielding no matter how much he struggled against them.

"No! Nonononononono!" Dust was raining down from above, something must have happened to the ceiling of the lighthouse, but trapped inside this prison, Jaune couldn't see anything beyond a circular viewport.

The rumbling intensified and a roar exploded from beneath his feet. A great jolt nearly sent his head crashing into the viewport, and then he was airborne. Jaune's jaw dropped, his prison continued shooting up and up and up like an oversized bullet.

It wasn't a jail cell, it was a god damned rocket ship.

For a scant few moments, the mainland was visible in the distance as a dark shadowy mass. Then storm clouds obscured everything and visibility dropped to zero. Only the occasional lightning flash lit up the darkness, letting him see his own stupefied reflection in the window.

His mind struggled to make sense of it all. Oh sure, human flight wasn't exactly new, zeppelins had been around for decades now, and he'd heard of this fancy new thing called an aeroplane, but nothing like this!

"Zeppelins? What are those? I am not familiar with that name." Weiss asked.

"Must be something that exists in the alternate Remnant that we don't have." Yang said.

"Think of it as a giant balloon, one big enough to attach a passenger compartment underneath." Blank explained.

"That… doesn't sound very efficient. Or safe." Pyrrha said.

"All things considered, it is actually a rather efficient method of flight, as long as you're not a hurry to get somewhere. As for safety, while there are dangers, Grimm don't exist in this universe so the issue of being a sitting target is far, far lesser. Well, there's also the part with dust doesn't exist, so airships as you know it aren't available." Blank elaborated.

'Damnit, damnit, damnit… bring us the girl they said, what the hell does this have to do with that!?' Jaune swore under his breath. What kind of reason could his employers have to put him on this death tra-

"Hallelujah." The recorded message finished.

"Wha…" Jaune gaped in disbelief. Forget airships and rockets, a city, an entire flying city was right before his eyes. Multiple city sections floating on their own islands, connected by bridges, cables and in some cases nothing at all.

In the distance he could see it, a giant angel shaped statue matching the design on the monument island postcard.

Words failed him. What could he possibly say after seeing all this? An entire city defying gravity to exist among the clouds… like some man-made heaven. When was this city built? How long had it been here, floating above the storm drenching him earlier?

"That's definitely not the Atlas I know of." Qrow said.

"Interesting, instead of floating a single landmass, they're floating multiple smaller ones with sections of the city built on them." Ozpin said.

"Why do things in such a manner? I get that being able to move city blocks around or drop them entirely might make defending Atlas easier. But what about the hassle involved with management and maintenance?" Ironwood asked.

"It's a result of the original design philosophy. Speed and modularity of the building process were the main concerns back then. The technology was still new and untested, nobody wanted to lift a city and have it fall out of the sky the next day. So they built and floated Atlas piece by piece, it let them start small and work their way upwards. New pieces could just be added to the whole as and when they were finished." Blank replied.

Questions upon questions upon questions plagued him, but no answer was forthcoming. Jaune slumped into his seat, his struggles forgotten in the face of the impossible.

No longer ascending, his rocket changed course, heading towards one of the islands and a hymn started to play on the hidden speakers, an attempt to soothe his nerves perhaps. Jaune frowned, the melody was nostalgic yet… strangely off. Instead of calming him down, all it did was fill him with unease.

With much of the speed bled off, Jaune could see his destination now, a church of some kind. A massive mural painted on one of the walls. 'Father Xiao Long, Our Prophet'

"Say what!?" Taiyang shot up in his seat instantly.

"You, a priest?" Qrow frowned, doing his best to wrap his head around the idea and failing.

"It is a bit farfetched." Summer added.

"Ergh!" Jaune grunted, reflexively flexing against his bonds again when he touched down. Landing was much like take-off… rough. But it seemed the journey wasn't quite over yet, the manacles remained in place and the rocket sealed.

After a brief pause, they were in motion again, the floor had opened up and the rocket descended into the building slowly. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating massive gears in the background and several signs, the cut-out letters almost glowing from the luminance.

A frown marred Jaune's face. The words were almost certainly religious in nature, yet they held an uncomfortable tilt to them. The feeling of wrongness intensified when the vessel finally came to a halt. A massive mural of the Prophet leading his people to a 'new Eden', the city in the sky.

"Oh. Dad's a bad guy in this one, isn't he?" Yang's face fell.

"So Jaune is here to rescue you-me… us? From that giant statue thing?" Ruby asked.

"Yes. That tower is your prison and he's here to get you out." Blank said.

"W-what the hell!? Why would I lock up my own daughter?" Taiyang stared wide-eyed.

"It's complicated but the short of it is your counterpart believes in destiny, specifically the predestination sort. He does what he does because he believes that it was what's needed to lead history down the correct path." Blank answered.

"That's… tha-that's… insane. It's completely insane!" Taiyang sputtered.

With a hiss, the 'door' of his ride fell away and the manacles unlocked, freeing him to move again. Jaune grunted and rose, massaging his sore wrists. Water splashed everywhere as he found himself ankle deep in water.

"Nice." Shaking his head, he glanced over to a book on a nearby pew. A bible… one titled 'Word of the Prophet'.

Looking to the mural again, Jaune pursed his lips. Religion and him didn't mix, but that didn't mean he was oblivious. Last he checked, it was 'Word of God' not 'Word of the Prophet'.

"Build a city in the sky and you start thinking you're divine huh… heh, whatever." Jaune shook his head. The delusions of geniuses and madmen were none of his business. The girl was here somewhere in the city, he just needed to get her and be gone.

"To be fair, not everyone can just up and build a damn flying city. We've only got one Atlas after all." Mercury shrugged.

"It… is one hell of an accomplishment." Emerald concurred after a moment.

"Excuse me, where am I?" Jaune asked a worshipper with his head bowed in prayer.

"Heaven friend. Or as close as we'll see till judgement day." Came the reply. Jaune paused in step, more than a little unnerved by the reverence… nay, the absolute faith in the man's tone. If most people in the city were like this…

"Best keep such questions to myself, lest I want to get made." Jaune muttered under his breath. Outwardly, he offered the worshipper a friendly smile and backed off, leaving the man to his praying.

If there was one thing life had taught him, it was that people didn't like different. Different was stamped out by force. And if everyone here was a devout nutjob, his lack of faith would be most certainly bring down trouble if noticed.

"Some things never change." Blake sighed. People trying to stamp out different was what led to the White Fang and the never-ending bloodshed. As long as people could draw lines between 'Us' and 'Them', they would it seemed.

"Or maybe not." Blake corrected herself, glancing over to her team.

"Hmm?" Weiss looked up when she noticed Blake's gaze.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Blake shook her head and returned her attention to the screen.

"Okay then." Weiss shrugged and did the same.

"And every year! On this day of days… we recommit ourselves to our city, and to our prophet, Father Xiao Long." A preacher stood at the exit, surrounded by kneeling worshippers in white. Candles lined either side of the aisle, bathing the massive room with a soft golden glow as water sloshed about on the floor, the reflections on it adding to the grandiose nature of the hall.

Jaune hung back by the stairwell, listening to the sermon without drawing any attention to himself. The exit to the city proper had to be on the other side of the congregation, but interrupting them now to seek passage probably wasn't the best idea.

"…It would have been enough!" The preacher thundered with religious fervour, the worshippers nodding along and echoing his words. Jaune watched them and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

His earlier suspicions were correct after all… as if he needed more proof than the murals and the statues and the freaking bible dedicated to one man. There was no godliness here, just a cult of personality built around a prophet more interested in damnation than salvation.

"…Hey Qrow?" Taiyang began.

"Yeah?"

"If I ever start trying to preach, you have my permission to beat some sense into me."

With the sermon at an end, Jaune grit his teeth and made his way forwards. Despite making barely any noise and being hidden by the throng of bodies, the preacher noticed his approach quickly enough. "Is it someone new? Someone from the Sodom below, newly come to Atlas to be washed clean? Before our prophet, our founders and our lord?"

"I just need passage into the city." Jaune said, his head was hurting again. Something about this priest… had they met before? Milky white eyes stared back at him, their blindness doing nothing to shake off the feeling that the skeletons in his closet were being laid bare.

"Passage to the city? Haha! Brother, the only way to Atlas is through rebirth in the sweet waters of baptism. Will you be cleansed, brother?" The aged preacher held out his hand expectantly and Jaune once again found himself assailed by a worsening headache.

Those words, he'd heard them before, a long time ago… a-at least he thought he did. Shaking off the déjà vu, Jaune reluctantly stepped forwards. "It's either this or turn around and get back on that rocket. Might as well get it over with."

Taking the outstretched hand, Jaune was unprepared for the strength hidden in the frame of a blind old man, finding himself wrenched forwards. "Hey!"

"I baptize you, in the name of our prophet! In the name of our founders! In the name of our lord!" The preacher shoved Jaune back at the same time two of the more excitable worshippers grabbed his legs and pulled. Unable to maintain his footing, Jaune slipped and went under immediately.

"Mmaprgh!" Jaune gurgled and coughed, water rushing down his windpipe. Kicking and struggling to resurface, the iron grip around his ankles thwarted his efforts. Without leverage and the firm hand on his head keeping him under, he was stuck. Drowning.

"And make him born again in the bosom of Atlas!" The preacher finally let up the pressure, pulling Jaune's shaken form up.

"I don't know brothers and sisters. But this one doesn't look clean to me!"

Jaune's eyes widened in shock. Still busy gasping for breath and trying to cough up water, he failed to react in time. Once again, his legs were taken out from under him and his head was forced under. And this time, the preacher didn't let up.

The water flooding his lungs, the ungodly hangover plaguing him, the vestiges of his motion sickness and his futile struggles merged to form an all-powerful anchor dragging him under. Oxygen levels dropping fast, the cold robbed his limbs of strength and his flailing slowed. Vision went blurry and blurrier before darkness set in and he knew no more.

"I ain't a religious man, but I'm pretty sure that's not how baptisms are supposed to go." Roman shrugged.

"Hey, just a question." Mercury frowned.

"If Atlas is all cuckoo now, what's stopping them from declaring war on the rest of the world? They clearly don't like em. I don't know what Sodom Below means but no way is that a compliment."

"Atlas would never do that." Ironwood growled.

"But this isn't your Atlas General." Cinder pointed out.

"I'd say they're just waiting for the right opportunity to strike, the right moment, one to really make an impact."

"Correct." Blank confirmed.

Loud banging on the door pierced through the fog in Jaune's mind. Groaning, he opened his eyes and nearly fell out of his chair. Everything was muted in this place, the colours were oddly desaturated, as though a filter had been placed over his eyes.

"Who's… who's there?" He called out and struggled to his feet. He was… back in his office. Just as he left it on that day… which day was it? Grabbing onto the edge of his desk for support, Jaune hunched over and started to hyperventilate.

His thoughts were still clouded, but something about his office set off every alarm bell in existence. He knew this, this was wrong, a… a mistake. His mistake.

"Gah, can't… think. Date… what date is it?" Jaune cast his eyes about in search of answers. An old clock on the wall that no longer worked, empty beer bottles on his table and in a corner… useless. What else was there, Jaune gripped the side of his head with a hand, fighting down the sudden inexplicable urge to rush out the door and go… where? Where did he need to go again?

His badge and pistol lay to the side of the desk, paperweights for old betting slips. Jaune glanced at them and frowned, faded memories resurfacing from the murky depths. "Lost… I lost… lost it all."

"A dream? Or a memory?" Jaune asked.

"A vision of what might be." Blank replied.

The banging on his door came again and Jaune's eyes snapped to it. "Who's there!?"

"Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt!" A heavily distorted voice called to him. The sudden sense of déjà vu nearly bowled him over, staggering around the table, Jaune grabbed his pistol and shambled towards the door.

"What do you want!?" He grunted. Every fibre in his body screamed at him to raise the gun and pull the trigger before it was too late. And it was so, so hard to resist the urge.

"We had a deal Arc! Open this door. Right now!" The distorted voice shouted.

"I told you… I'm not gonna do it! Go away!" Jaune retorted, the words springing forth from somewhere deep inside.

"Not… going to do it? But I thought he needed to go rescue Yang-Ruby? Why is he backing out now?" Nora frowned in confusion.

"Maybe it's a different deal. One he doesn't want to do." Ren said.

"A vision… if this is the future, maybe he's already rescued Yang by this point and doesn't want to hand her over?" Pyrrha hedged.

"You are right on the not wanting to hand over part, less so on the rescued." Blank said.

"Mr Arc! Mr Arc!" More relentless banging on the door.

Jaune growled and threw the door open, ready to give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind. "Hwah?" Jaune's jaw dropped. The familiar corridor he had to go through on his way to work every day wasn't there anymore. The floor simply ended at the door.

Wind whistled past his ears and the acrid stench of smoke assaulted his nostrils. Somehow, he'd opened a door into the sky itself, giving him a front row seat to the destruction of his home.

All of Vale was burning, multiple airships raining hellfire on the defenceless city below as screams and cries of terror rose from the doomed populace. And there in the distance, a flying city shrouded in shadow loomed menacingly, its very presence leeching hope away.

A flash of light to the side caught Jaune's attention. Swivelling to face it, Jaune belatedly realised one of the airships had fired a rocket right towards his position. Instinctively raising his hands to shield himself, Jaune screwed his eyes shut as the world vanished in a blinding flash.

"…No." Ironwood whispered.

"So that's what happens if Mr Arc fails." Ozpin said.

"Indeed." Blank replied.

"Hrrughh!" Jaune snapped awake, coughing and sputtering immediately. Wincing in pain, he slowly sat up and waited for his eyes to get used to the bright sunlight. The momentary burst of confusion faded when he looked behind and spotted a canal.

He could still see the white robed congregation on the other side of it. Post 'baptism', the preacher must have simply let him be washed downstream until he was dumped in this garden of sorts.

Coughing again and rubbing his sore throat, Jaune rose to his feet unsteadily, still woozy from the near drowning. "That idiot priest needs to learn the difference between baptising a man and drowning one."

After a token effort to wring his clothes out, Jaune gave up and sighed. He'd just have to dry out in the sun the hard way. Plastering a false smile across his face, Jaune nodded politely to other worshippers in the area as he made his way out.

Whatever that… dream or vision was, it only compounded his desire to leave the city. Find the girl, steal an airship maybe and hightail it home before things went to shit as it always did. "I need to find a landmark and figure out where the hell I am."

Grabbing a pear someone left on a bench, Jaune bit into it, such sweetness nearly made him gag. Pushing aside his discomfort, he polished off the fruit anyways, his last meal was… was a long time ago, something solid should help calm his rioting stomach.

He felt like shit and probably looked the part, fortunately no one cared enough to pay him any attention. Every pilgrim or worshipper in the garden were so absorbed in their prayers he was convinced they wouldn't react if a gun went off next to them. "Just cause a city flies don't mean it ain't got its fair share of fools. All right… still got a girl to find."

"Not the best of entrances, but he's in. I see that as an absolute win." Roman said.

The road beyond the church's entrance ended abruptly just a few feet beyond the door. A small barrier was the only thing between someone and the expressway down. Jaune paused in step before approaching, this was a functioning city for people, unless everyone had wings he couldn't see, there must be someway of moving around the city on foot.

"This could be a problem." He muttered on spotting the solution. Another flying island was rising up from below, once it docked, it'd serve as a bridge between the church island and the 'mainland'. It was a city that could fly, of course the islands could rearrange themselves as needed… now whether or not that was going to impede his progress towards the girl was remained to be seen.

"There's no way that's safe. What if someone falls over the edge?" Ruby said.

"Then they better have a good landing strategy." Jaune replied, hoping his counterpart wouldn't find himself in need of one.

"Oh that statue, I just think it fails to capture Father Xiao Long's… you know… divinity!"

Jaune shot the pair of gossiping bystanders a look of disbelief before glancing towards the statue in question. An absolutely gigantic statue of the prophet towered over everything in the vicinity, hair and beard whipping in an invisible breeze and a sword held aloft.

That wasn't enough?

Leaving them behind, Jaune wondered through the streets of the city, passively absorbing as much as he could without drawing unnecessary attention to himself. The place was in a festive mood and the air was charged with energy, the 'day of days' that priest had mentioned, a national holiday of sorts it seemed.

The road ahead was once again blocked as a procession of floats passed. Crowds cheered as a narrator read out what appeared to be the history of Atlas's founding. Jaune kept to the back, doing his best to keep the irritation off his face.

"Victory at Wounded Knee? Is that what they're calling it now? What a joke." He hissed under his breath. So, the good prophet had been present on that cursed day as well… clearly, they had very different views on what transpired.

"Wounded Knee again? What happened there?" Pyrrha asked.

"He won that battle, didn't he? Did he lose someone important?" Winter added.

"No, quite the contrary. He served with distinction and won the respect of his entire unit for going above and beyond the call of duty. It was for that he received the award." Blank said.

"So what's wrong then?" Ironwood asked.

"In modern times, that battle is remembered as the Massacre at Wounded Knee."

"Oh. Oh no." Pyrrha whispered.

"Why?" Was all Jaune could say.

"Belonging. To earn the respect of everyone else, to prove that he could not only do what everyone else could, but do it better, do it more ruthlessly. So no one would ever consider him a fraud or lesser than his peers." Blank answered.

"So that's where it started, he's been spiralling ever since then." Qrow stated.

"Indeed. He got what he wanted, then realised it was worthless. He became a monster for nothing. The guilt ate him alive and pretty much broke him." Blank said.

"Yeah, that's where they said I'd find her." Jaune held up the Monument Island postcard and matched it against a truly massive statue peeking through the clouds in the distance. Without the rain in his eyes, he could actually get a good look at the features on the statue, definitely a match for this 'Yang' he was here to collect.

Lips curving downwards in distaste, it seemed a revaluation of his odds of success were in order. If the girl was important enough to get a statue even bigger than the one of the 'divine prophet', they'd never give her up without a fight.

"A girl in a tower huh?" Ozpin whispered.

"Something wrong?" Goodwitch noticed the sudden melancholy air surrounding him.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Just remembering something from long ago." Ozpin shook his head and sighed.

"Telegram Mr Arc!"

Jaune blinked, torn away from his ruminations. Looking down, he saw a child holding out a letter for him. "Huh?"

"Telegram for you sir!" The boy handed over the yellow-brown sheet of paper with a salute before dashing off.

'Who's sending me a telegram now? Them that sent me?' Jaune frowned and flipped over the paper.

"Arc, stop. Do not alert Xiao Long to your presence, stop. Whatever you do, do not pick number 77 stop… Branwen." Jaune stared blankly at the sheet. The message made absolutely no sense to him beyond stating the obvious.

"Is that a different Branwen or…?" Qrow trailed off.

"The two of you had it sent as a warning." Blank replied.

"Why not just explain on the boa… ah, hangover." Qrow answered his own unspoken question before frowning again.

"Wait, that means Raven and I were both up in Atlas, how'd we get up here before Arc did? And have the time to send a message like that?"

He was here to retrieve a girl central to these cultist's faith. No shit alerting their leader to his intentions was a bad idea. And don't pick number 77, 77 what? Would it have killed for the message to be clearer? Who the hell was Branwen anyways?

"Now how do I get there?" Jaune wondered aloud. Moving over to a nearby observation binoculars, he peered through the lenses, getting a closer look at the statue. No luck, the statue's base was completely obscured by the clouds and he couldn't make if a land route existed.

Sighing and letting the observation binoculars tilt down, he thought he caught sight of those two ferrymen from down below at the edge of his vision, one of them was actually juggling of all things.

"What?" Jaune stepped back, rubbed his eyes and looked again. Nothing. The street was empty and there was no sign of either of the two.

"I must be seeing things… there's no way those two made it up here too… right?" Jaune muttered and shook his head.

"So… yeah, about my question." Qrow said.

"It's part of the convoluted nature of this universe. Your counterparts were instrumental in the development of Atlas and that world's Taiyang tried to silence you. It didn't work and you two became unstuck in spacetime." Blank said.

"Uh…" Qrow stared ahead blankly.

"If it helps, think of them as existences similar to my own. Outside of reality with some level of ability to interfere."

"I see… I think."

"Those are Vigors I'm talking about! Brought to you courtesy of Mr Jacques Schnee himself!"

Jaune perked up when he heard the sound of electricity crackling in the distance. Spotting a crowd forming at the base of a stage, he approached quietly. Peeking over their shoulders, his jaw dropped yet again.

Performers dressed up as devils were playing with the elements themselves. Juggling with actual orbs of fire, lightning arcing between fingers, levitating with a burst of wind… pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, Jaune gaped at the display of eldritch power.

What little of his mind still dedicated to logic was in open rebellion against what his eyes were seeing. There had to be some kind of trick, some kind of sleight of hand, magic wasn't real. "Then again, this city is flying." He whispered.

"Semblances?" Emerald asked.

"No, Vigors are… well it's basically magic. Commodified magic." Blank said.

"Commodified… magic." Cinder blinked. What the hell? She had to go through so many hoops just to get the maiden's powers and here was a world where magic was a good to be sold!? Why the heck couldn't her world's Jacques Schnee be as useful?

"One swig, and feats of wonderment are at the tips of your fingers!" The salesman continued his spiel and Jaune did another doubletake. This… was for sale? Nuts! Either it was all snake oil or everyone here was armed to the frigging teeth with magic.

Backing away slowly, Jaune slipped away into the fairgrounds itself, disappearing into the crowd. Slowly calming his nerves and ordering his panicking brain back in line, reason reasserted himself. Even if… even if those powers were the real deal and up for sale, surely there was some kind of limit on them. Flying city or not, people were people, giving out actual superpowers to anyone who could pay would only end in bloodshed.

Reservations aside, Jaune wouldn't deny his interest was piqued. If there was even the slightest chance it was legit, he wanted in on it. As luck would have it, one of the many games stalls scattered around the fairgrounds was offering a chance to test one of these Vigors out.

"So, how does this work?" Jaune asked.

"Ah, just a lil sip of that and you're good for a few shots sir! Not to worry, it's all free, Mr Schnee is sponsoring it all. Want to give it a go?" The barker replied.

"Hmm, sure, why not?" Jaune picked up one of the shot glasses on display. Glancing at the brownish liquid inside dubiously, he shrugged and downed it in one go.

"Khuk!" Immediately staggering backwards coughing, Jaune's vision swam and he swayed unsteadily. The Vigor was like nothing he'd ever drunk in the past, liquid fire burning all the way down his throat, the heat suffused him and with it came blinding agony.

His body felt like it was being torn apart from the inside and his hands were on fire. His vision distorted and he swore he saw his hands changing into something out of a freakshow. Then as quickly as it began, the hallucinations and pain faded away and reality returned to normal. "What was… what the…"

"Ah, that was your first go at the Bucking Bronco eh? First time's always got a kick to it, no matter how many other Vigors you've tried out." The barker chuckled in understanding.

"Go on, give it a spin. Let's see if you can't cast the devil out." He hit a button on the sides and wooden panels fell away, revealing a target range.

Jaune nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak yet. 'Kick' that was certainly one way to describe the experience. In any case, he could feel some kind of… power inside him, yearning to be used. Trusting his gut, Jaune took aim and thrust his left hand out.

A wave of force blasted out, surging forwards with incredible speed until it struck its target. A performer dressed in one of those devil costumes was promptly lifted up and out of his hiding spot. And there he remained, flailing helplessly as the vigour kept him airborne.

"Oooh nice shot, let's see you do it again." The barker hit another button and the panels returned to hide the range as it reset. After a few seconds, they fell away and the performer serving as the target had shifted to a new position.

Jaune nodded and repeated the feat, blasting the costumed devil into the air again while his mind raced. 'So the effect only lasts for a few seconds. And this… magic, it's got a limit, I can feel it running out.'

Sure enough, after several more goes, the tank was empty. Thanking the barker for the game, Jaune wandered off, feeling the last of the Vigor fade away. But even then, there was a little itch at the back of his mind, to feel the rush again.

"That's one heck of a drink." Mercury whistled in awe.

"Slap a limit on it and control the production. It's a damned money printer. Especially if you get suckers coming back for the high." Roman concurred.

"Sounds like a drug." Goodwitch sniffled in derision.

"Not like that will stop father from trying to turn a profit on it, even if it gets the whole city addicted, as long as he gets his money, he won't care." Weiss said.

"It's not really that much of an addiction problem actually. Believe it or not, Jacques's own profit motive ensured it won't be." Blank said.

"I find that a little hard to believe." Winter spoke up.

"For the sake of higher profits, the Vigors are heavily diluted. They've actually hit a sweet spot where the Vigors retain their potency but lose the extreme addictiveness." Blank said.

"Well, that's the first time I've heard that being cheap saves lives." Qrow said.

"More than you can imagine. There is another universe, one linked to this one, where the profit motive went the other way. An underwater city called Rapture, a capitalist utopia where men like Jacques Schnee are a dime a dozen. There, a minimum viable product and things like safety standards are detrimental to success. Everything has to be the best or you'll go out of business, there Vigors exist in the form of hyper concentrated Plasmids. Effective, highly addicting and very mutagenic. It ends poorly for everyone." Blank replied.

"How poorly?" Emerald asked.

"Almost everyone dead, mutated and or insane poorly." Came the response.

The steady crack, crack, crack of his air rifle rang in Jaune's ears. One by one, the little carboard faunus targets shattered. Gun clicking empty at the same time the buzzer sounded, Jaune exhaled and lowered the weapon. "Twenty-three… still got it."

Returning the rifle to its stand, Jaune smiled politely at the barker as he accepted his prize, a nice chunk of Silver Eagles. Rolling one of the silver coins across his fingers, he sighed and put it away. Nowhere near enough to buy a Vigor.

So maybe the city wasn't that stupid about handing out magic after all. From what he gathered, someone needed two things to be able to use a Vigor. The first, a proper dose of the Vigor itself, to form a… mental template of sorts, letting them draw upon it later. The second, some weird blue stuff called Salts to fuel the magic itself.

And therein lay the problem. Given the prices of food around the fair, he estimated the exchange rate had to be about one Silver Eagle to one lien. Which meant a new Vigor from one of those fancy vending machines would cost him a few years' worth of salary at the very least.

"…That's a lot of money." Jaune blanched.

"The White Fang is here too, figures." Blake muttered.

"High prices, limited supply. It is father after all. And if he can control where the magic goes, he can keep the White Fang or other criminals from trying to interfere with his business." Weiss grimaced, displeased with having to think through things from Jacques' perspective.

"Huh, gives new meaning to rich and powerful, doesn't it?" Jaune muttered. Passing a freakshow on display called a Handyman, Jaune frowned in distaste. Onlookers gawked at the mishappen monstrosity that used to be human, ignoring its obvious distress at the attention and flashing lights.

Body and limbs forged entirely out of metal, the only human bit left was a bald head and what appeared to be a beating heart behind a glass shield. He didn't know what the hell went into creating such a thing and he didn't want to know. Only thing Jaune knew for sure was he'd sooner have someone put a bullet between his heads then turn him into one of those things.

At least most people on the streets and the cops milling about looked human. None of them sporting such hideous modifications or tossing Vigors about. If it came to it, Jaune would take a firefight against mortals over souped-up monsters.

"Ew, what the hell is that thing?" Emerald grimaced in disgust.

"A handyman, a living weapon made from the unfortunate." Blank said.

"…You're gonna have to be more specific." Emerald said after a pause.

"Take the injured, the sick, the aged, cut away all but the most vital parts and make up the rest with cold unfeeling machinery. Let's you use them long past their normal expiry point at the low, low price of constant pain." Blank continued.

"…That's sick." Mercury spat.

"Did they have a choice?" Winter asked.

"In most cases, yes. However much a choice between death and prolonged suffering counts for." Blank answered.

"Dear friend, have you ever lost a penny to a vending machine?"

Jaune paused in step as someone called out to him. Turning to face them, he found a woman standing next to a gate carrying a basket full of Vigor bottles. "Sorry, got no money."

"Don't worry, these are free samples for the newest Vigors. All compliments of Mr Schnee." She stepped to the side and gestured to a signboard indicating as much.

"Huh. Gimme one of those then." Jaune shrugged and accepted one of the bottles, no sense in questioning good fortune. Giving it a swirl, he watched the glowing liquid inside slosh about before uncorking the bottle. Green vapor rose from the bottle and a faint sweet scent tickled his nose. Steeling himself, Jaune raised the bottle and downed it all in one go.

The shock hit him all at once and his vision fritzed out again. The woman was saying something, but her words were slurred and droning, laughter invaded his ears, ringing and bolting out all other sound. Soon, he was seeing double, then triple and then everything become coloured with emerald light.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Jaune screwed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply. It took a few seconds, but eventually, the vertigo passed and the world returned to normal. The kick was harder this time, much, much harder than the Bucking Bronco.

"Orrgh… what the hell was that?" Jaune grunted and clutched the side of his head. He could feel the Vigor setting in, the template forming in his mind, a process that felt like someone was chiselling the instructions into the base of his skull.

The attendant merely grinned and gestured to a machine barring the gate to the next area, providing a convenient target for experimentation.

"Sorry pal, the raffle is all sold out! Entrance is reserved for dignitaries and very important personages alone." The machine greeted brusquely.

"I'm guessing that don't mean me." Jaune steadied himself, then launched a blast of emerald energy that took the form of a siren. It struck the machine head on and sank through the metal, making the entire thing glow with an ethereal radiance.

"Well, if it isn't Assemblyman Sleet! Your spot at the raffle awaits, don't know why I didn't recognise you before. Odd! Always good to have gentlemen of your calibre at our fairgrounds." The machine changed its tone instantly and the gate swung open, permitting Jaune access.

"That's a sample? What." Roman said flatly.

"Oh I'm sure there's no way that can be abused." Qrow agreed drily.

"There are some safeguards in place but whatever problems it causes aren't the concern, only the profit that can be made from it." Blank said.

"Yeah, that's father alright." Weiss sighed.

"…Interesting." Jaune muttered. Wisps of energy were still circling his hand as he curled and uncurled his fingers. It was different from the game stall's dosage, this sample was a little more… permanent for lack of a better term. He could feel the template settling in, it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

But at the same time, it was incomplete. He could feel himself reaching for something that should be there but wasn't, not to mention how draining it was to use. He estimated he'd get two uses and then he'd be dry on salts. "Still… not bad for a sample."

Past the gate he was met with two familiar figures, the ferrymen. Both of them had ditched their raincoats for more formal wear. Somehow they had made it up to the city after all and Jaune wondered if had actually spotted them earlier at the observation binoculars.

"Heads?" Qrow began

"Or tails?" Raven continued.

"Come on, let me through." Jaune sighed. So them that sent him wanted someone to keep an eye on him after all, but was this really necessary. Jaune caught a Silver Eagle that had been flicked him and held it up to the light for inspection. A perfectly normal coin with no tricks to it.

"Heads?" Qrow asked.

"Or tails?" Raven finished.

"Huh." Jaune shrugged, maybe their cover involved doing some sort of coin flipping survey. It did fit with the man wearing a chalkboard with a number of notches for heads. But if flipping a coin was all he needed to do to gain passage, so be it.

"Hmm… heads." Jaune called out and flipped the coin. It landed on Raven's plate with a clatter.

"Told you." Qrow huffed. Raven merely rolled her eyes and added another notch to the heads tally.

"I never find that as satisfying as I'd imagine." He shrugged.

"Chin up, there's always next time." Raven replied in mild exasperation and walked away.

"I suppose there is." Qrow shrugged again and followed after her, turning his back and displaying a second chalkboard, one full of notches for heads and none for tails.

"Okay then…" Jaune shook his head and watched them go. Had they really done the coin flip and come up heads over a hundred times in a row? He was missing something again or it was just the two of them being off, both were equally plausible.

"That's a lot of heads in a row." Yang said.

"Weird survey, what's the point of it?" Taiyang asked.

"Just to prove the moment is a constant. Whenever Jaune Arc flips the coin at this juncture, the coin always comes up heads." Blank said.

"…But, that was the only time other me flipped it?" Jaune said.

"The only time this version did. The results of other previous versions are already recorded." Blank answered.

"Previous?" Pyrrha asked.

"As I said earlier, this version of Qrow and Raven are unstuck in spacetime. They've already run this setup multiple times in the past to try and stop the prophet. And every time they reach this point, the coin toss comes up heads." Blank said.

"Wait. Doesn't… doesn't that mean Jaune's failed the rescue in all those other runs?" Blake frowned.

Silence was all the answer she needed.

Monument Island's giant statue loomed in the distance, not quite so far off now. Jaune picked up the pace, he could hear singing coming from somewhere up ahead. A good number of people had gathered if the volume was anything to go by.

"What the…" Jaune came to a halt in front of a signboard warning Atlesians to keep an eye out for the mark of the false shepherd. A stylised illustration of a devil's hand branded with the initials 'RR'. Jaune hesitantly raised his own right hand, a matching set of initials carved into his own flesh.

Vertigo assailed him but he quickly shook it off. He had things to do and places to be, no time to worry about absurd coincidences now. Wiping away some blood leaking from his nose and ignoring the nagging feeling that he was missing something, he pushed on.

"Okay, no way that's a coincidence. But what does it mean? Ruby's name? But Ruby is Yang in this world, so that can't be right…" Nora frowned.

"And now! The Raffle has officially begun!" Jacques Schnee soaked up the audience applause, moustache twitching as his grin grew wider. Oh how he loved his job, Atlas truly was paradise for him and his.

All his desires fulfilled for the low, low price of agreeing with the prophet and putting on the occasional show for the masses. It was all so easy, just a little Vigor display here, a carnival there and the sheep would be too easy eating out of his hands to notice him milking them for all they were worth.

"Still an ass." Yang shook her head.

"Hmm, he is right about people being sheep at least." Cinder muttered.

Jaune's eyebrow twitched upon seeing Jacques Schnee. Something about the businessman rubbed him the wrong way, reminded him too much of some people he used to work for. Smiling knaves who promised the carrot but believed only in the stick.

"Hey mister!" An usher carrying a basket of baseballs called out to Jaune, dragging him out of his memories.

"Sorry, no sale." Jaune waved her off.

"Silly, there's never a charge for the raffle. You been sleeping under a rock?" She laughed off his hesitance and held out the basket for him to pick.

Sighing softly, Jaune reached out and grabbed a random ball from the pile. He had no interest in the raffle but openly turning down the raffle would probably draw a few eyes his way. Glancing at the number painted on it, he froze in place. "Seventy-seven…"

"Uh oh." Jaune said.

"Seventy-seven? That's a lucky number, I'll be rooting for you." The usher said, oblivious to Jaune's inner thoughts.

'Don't pick number seventy-seven… is this what that telegram was referring to? That's… no it can't be. It's not possible.' Jaune thought, looking up at the stage once a hush descended on the crowd.

"Bring me the bowl!" Jacques thundered. Cheering erupted as another usher walked on stage, carrying a colourful bowl filled with numbers for the raffle.

"Haha! Alright then… the winner is…" Jacques reached in and withdrew a card.

"Number seventy-seven!"

"…Well what do you know." Jaune muttered, face twitching uncomfortably as several nearby civilians immediately pointed him out, destroying any chance of slipping away quietly.

"So this raffle is also a constant?" Ozpin asked.

"Yes. As long as Jaune Arc reaches this point and picks a number, it will always be 77, even when he's warned against it." Blank said.

"You know, they could have just said don't go to the raffle." Weiss said.

"They tried before." Blank said.

"Ah." Weiss nodded and fell silent.

"Number seventy-seven! Come and claim your prize… first throw!" Jacques waved his hands enthusiastically and the curtains began to rise. Props rose out of the floor and the crowd began singing wedding music in unison to Jaune's confusion.

But any doubt cleared up once the couple was wheeled in. One male human and one female rabbit faunus were bound to a stake and dressed in rags. The crowd jeered and laughed at their plight as they struggled against their bindings.

"Please… please don't do this." The faunus begged.

"It was me! It was all me! Please, please! Please!" The man shouted, trying to get the crowd to focus on him and leave his wife alone.

"Let her go! Please! I'm the one you want!"

"Come on, are you going to throw it or what? First throw! Then everyone gets a shot." Jacques sniggered, looking down at Jaune from the stage.

"You're fucking kidding." Blake shot up in her seat and swore.

"This is absurd. This is some kind of sick joke right!? Atlas would never condone this!" Ironwood glared at Blank for an answer.

"This one would." Qrow growled.

"And they do this… yearly!?" Winter blanched hard.

"The raffle? Yes. But anyone considered lesser in this Atlas, be they faunus, migrants from other kingdoms or whatever other category the Atlesians think up, are seen as less than dirt and treated worse than that." Blank explained.

"It's evil. How the hell did any version of me come up with something like this!?" Taiyang spat.

"Once you clear a few logical hoops, it's a very small step to madness. If you can bring others around to your view, then it becomes accepted reality." Blank answered.

The people around Jaune cleared out, none of them wanting to impede his throw. Jaune himself kept his face studiously blank. They wanted to stone the couple, they wanted to stone the couple and made it a fucking celebration.

For what? The crime of being together?

Jaune's face blackened.

"I got something for you, you son of a bitch." Jaune whispered darkly and raised the ball, aiming right for Jacques' smug grin. Winding his arm back for a throw at maximum strength, he was just about to let fly when someone grabbed his arm, throwing him off balance.

"It's him!" Someone shouted, pointing to Jaune's hand. Shocked gasps and worried whispers erupted immediately as others noticed the brand. Jaune cursed silently when the cop refused to let to go of his hand, there was no way these people actually believed in that false shepherd nonsen-

"Now… where'd you get that brand boy?" Jacques squatted low, eyeing Jaune suspiciously.

"Don't you know that makes you the back-stabbing, snake-in-the-grass false shepherd!?"

Of course they believed it. This was a flying circus of religious nutjobs, how could he have forgotten. Jaune cursed again as his other arm was arrested by a second cop, preventing him from introducing his fist to the first. More cries of outrage condemning him for being the false shepherd rang out and Jaune swore he could feel their hate searing him.

"And we ain't letting no false shepherd into our flock! Show em what we got planned boys!" Jacques roared and the crowd cheered.

Time seemed to slow for Jaune and the blood rushing through his ears drowned out the surrounding cacophony. The second cop had pulled out his skyhook and was revving it up, the vicious metal hooks becoming a whirring blur. Instinct screamed for him to avoid the business end of that weapon at all costs.

The brief burst of panic cooled nigh instantly as years and years of experience took over. Both of his arms were still locked down but he still had unlucky ball number 77. Tossing it into the air, Jaune felt the grips on him slacken ever so slightly as the cops instinctively looked towards the white blur.

Seizing the opportunity, he wrenched his arm free from the first cop and grabbed the man by back of his collar. Grunting in exertion, Jaune pushed as hard as he could, forcing the man to bend over and ram his face into the spinning hooks.

Steel met flesh and flesh lost.

"Eugh." Ruby grimaced.

"Add that to things I didn't need to see." Weiss sighed.

"No aura to protect them. It's… messy." Blake said.

Cheers turned into horrified screaming, the sickening sound of bone crunching under unyielding machinery thundered in Jaune's ears. Blood and grey matter splattered all over the second cop as his weapon continued to eat into his partner's face.

Dropping the weapon in shock and watching the corpse flop lifelessly to the floor, the unfortunate policeman seized up from a mix of fright, shock and utter disbelief. It took his mind several seconds to cycle through and reboot, and by then it was too late.

Those precious few seconds were all Jaune needed. Ripping the skyhook free from what was left of its victim's face, Jaune slid it on and hit a switch on it, causing it to rev up again. Civilians were fleeing in terror and screaming their heads off, Jacques was shouting for someone to stop him, more cops were already on their way.

None of that mattered in that instant. Blood was pumping, adrenaline was surging and the familiar battle haze settled over him. Erasing everything that was inconsequential, Jaune's senses sharpened to the limit. He had a mission, he had enemies trying to kill him, solution…

Kill them first.

"Killing the people trying to kill you is a pretty good idea." Mercury shrugged and reached for a bag of fresh popcorn.

Jaune swung. His skyhook caught the still stunned officer in the eyes. Crunch. Tear. Blood everywhere. The body dropped.

Hearing a whistle go off in the distance and more indistinct angry shouts, he spotted enemy reinforcements charging down the stairs towards him. None of them appeared to be carrying skyhooks of their own, wielding simple wooden truncheons instead.

Ignoring the panicked civilians, Jaune rushed towards the oncoming enemies with skyhook at the ready. Ducking under an overswing, Jaune retaliated with a blindingly fast uppercut, carving right through the man's throat and jaw in one go.

He saw the others flinch back, saw the fear in their eyes. Fanaticism was there too, it was clear to him they wouldn't relent even if they were afraid, and they'd try to overrun him with numbers. For Jaune, that was perfectly fine, this was hardly the first time he'd been outnumbered, at least these ones weren't packing guns.

Dashing towards the next target, Jaune evaded the swings and struck with several brutal jabs, tearing through flesh easily and staining the crisp black uniform bright crimson. Suicidal fanatics they may have been, Jaune saw them for what they were, greenhorns who'd never had to deal with true life or death combat, until now. And they'd pay for it.

Being surrounded meant death. Jaune's only play was to rush them one at a time, pick off the unprepared men as violently and gruesomely as he could, give the others a reason to pause, make himself look like a far larger threat than he actually was. As long as he could keep his enemies off balance long enough to capitalise, he could eradicate them all.

Something winged the tip of his right ear and Jaune hissed in pain. It burned and hot liquid dripped from it into his ear. The gunshot registered in his mind a split second later. Spying the gunman out of the corner of his eyes, Jaune threw himself to the side, causing the next two shots to go wide.

Darting in between the other cops, Jaune fought his way towards the gunner. Perhaps noticing Jaune's intent, the man's face fell and he backed away firing wildly and failing to land a hit. He was still retreating when Jaune caught up to him. The next thing he knew, he was staring into Jaune's blank eyes as a metal hook wrapped around his neck.

Jaune didn't even flinch as the skyhook activated for instant bloody decapitation. Snatching the pistol from the corpse, he opened fire on the remaining cops, nailing them in the head with pinpoint precision.

More shouts in the distance, reinforcements for sure. Jaune ejected the empty magazine, belatedly noticing the pistol was the same model as the one he lost in the rocket earlier. Kneeling down, he quickly frisked the body, grabbing whatever ammunition was available and slamming a fresh mag home.

"He's tearing through them like butter." Roman commented.

"He's too used to death. It doesn't faze him anymore." Ozpin added.

He needed to leave the place at once. If he stayed it was only a matter of time before he was overrun. Worse, with Atlas being a flying city made of countless interconnected city blocks, there was no guarantee they wouldn't just disconnect his current island and starve him out.

In fact, they were already beginning the process of doing so. Jaune skidded to a halt as a barrier sprung up and the bridge he was just about to dash onto decoupled from the ground and floated off. No dice here.

Cursing under his breath, Jaune doubled back, slipping into a side road to give any pursuers the slip however temporary. Passing a Vigor vending machine, he paused and stared at it. Briefly debating smashing it open to get at the goodies inside, he discarded that idea. If he wasn't careful, all he'd end up doing would be destroying the precious liquid magic.

"Possession aid… come on, gimme something I can work with." Jaune muttered and fed all the Silver Eagles he had into it. These machines had some kind of recognition function if the one back at the fair was anything to go by, hopefully they hadn't thought to lock him out yet.

To Jaune's immense relief, upon feeding the last silver coin in, the machine came to life and dispensed a bottle of glowing green goop. Uncorking it in one fell swoop, he raised it to his lips and chugged it down instantly.

The Vigor burned all the way down his throat before hitting his stomach in a burst of liquid fire. Coughing and sputtering, Jaune wiped his lips and spat to the side. This time, when the impact came, it was nowhere near as strong as the first go, perhaps because he already had experience with the sample. His vision blurred a little before recovering and Jaune felt more 'pieces' of the Vigor click into place.

"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea?" Jaune swore vehemently. Mind control, the Vigor offered honest to god mind control. Well, it was more temporarily hijacking the body for a human puppet than direct brainwashing, but the difference was academic. The end result was the same.

"…Better them than me." Jaune shoved aside his reservations. It was kill or be killed and the how didn't matter as long as he was the one left standing at the end.

"Mind control. Wow. Impressive. Really. Absolutely no way that could have blown up in anyone's faces. Sure. Let's put it right on the market because why not? It's like someone can buy it and then mind control us into handing that money plus change back right? Hell, no way they'll make us go skydiving without a parachute either, huh?" Roman drawled sarcastically. Neo adding the slow clap for emphasis.

"Ehg, this boat's going nowhere." Jaune slammed his fists against the controls in frustration. Just when he thought lady luck wanted to smile upon him by delivering an unattended airship to his doorstep, he was rudely reminded of the fact she was a bitch.

It'd been left there with its cargo of unused fireworks, ripe for the taking. Only, no key in the ignition and Jaune had no clue on how to hotwire the thing. The entire ship might as well have been a rock for all the good it did him, a dangerous rock equipped with an auto-turret at the back.

"Hold on…" Jaune glanced towards the auto-turret again, a dull yellow light signalling that it was the only thing currently working on the tub. Wisps of green energy swirled around his hand as an idea took form.

"Go big or go home, eh?" Hoping he wasn't making a mistake, Jaune raised his pistol into the air and fired several shots, alerting all the cops hunting for him in the area. To make sure none of them missed the signal, he fired off the entire ship's worth of fireworks, filling the air with explosions and flashes of light.

Sure enough reinforcements came running instantly. Jaune's eyes widened slightly when he noticed several arriving by those rails in the air, sky-lines if he recalled correctly. Hanging on with their skyhooks and jumping off once in place, they hit the ground running, all converging on his location.

Hiding behind some crates, Jaune waited until the first brave souls were beginning to climb aboard before acting. Bursting out from cover, he unloaded on them, nailing the first few in the head and sending their collapsing bodies back into the crowd.

Thrusting his arm out, he launched a spectral figure right into the automated turret, scrambling its targeting systems and redirecting it against the police. The staccato of machine gun fire cut through the angry and panicked shouts, the turret's hail of bullets easily shredding through the unprepared Atlesian forces.

Survivors scrambled for cover before returning fire, their bullets punching holes into the turret's casing, causing it to start smoking from the damage. Unwilling to lose his main equaliser without a fight, Jaune advanced, taking pot shots at the cops, forcing them to keep their heads down.

"Alright, don't fail me now." Jaune sucked in a deep breath before firing off another spectral phantom, this time aiming for a gun wielding cop all the way in the back.

The unlucky soul never saw it coming, one moment taking aim at the renegade turret, the next control over his limbs had been wrested away. Left a prisoner in his own body, he was powerless to even scream as the possession Vigor forced him to redirect his aim to his unaware comrades.

The pistol's report barely registered in his horrified mind as his friends crumpled lifelessly to the floor. The false prophet had used him, made him turn against his own people.

"No." He whispered, the Vigor's effects starting to expire. Slowly, he could feel control returning to him. Too late for his comrades, but not too late to avenge them by executing the monster in human skin.

"Kragh? W-wait! NO!" But it was not to be. The false prophet had already factored in the impermanence. Despite the man's struggle, his arm came up and rested the smoking barrel against his temple. The hot metal seared his pale skin and he wanted to cry out, but the words stuck in his throat.

Perhaps to mock him, the false prophet calmly strode towards him, stepping over the still warm corpses of his buddies without a single backwards glance. Stopping right in front of him, the false prophet regarded him with an almost uninterested expression. Steely blue eyes containing the warmth of Solitas's harshest winter inspected him.

'Say something damn you!' He cursed in his mind, but all that came out was a pained gurgle. He wanted to scream at the devil made flesh, demand answers. Why? Why come here? Why kill his people? Why defile their paradise so?

Yet at the end, the false prophet refused to deign him with an answer. His finger squeezed down on the trigger and the man knew nothing more. Jaune's uncaring visage the last thing he ever saw.

"That was morbid." Mercury whispered.

"On the one hand, they're part of a crazy Atlas trying to kill Jaune." Nora began.

"On the other, they're just people trying to do their jobs to bring down someone they've been conditioned to see as a menace." Ren finished.

"Messy, but effective." Jaune summed up. His nameless puppet collapsed in a spray of gore after its strings were forcibly severed. The possession Vigor had more than proven its worth if the field of corpses was anything to go by.

But it wasn't perfect. Not yet.

"Gonna need more salts." Jaune grimaced, the supernatural hunger spawned from his depleted reserves gnawed at him from inside. A constant itch that wouldn't go away until he topped up.

Shaking his head, Jaune began fishing through the pockets of the fallen, stripping them of everything of worth. A handful of Silver Eagles, extra ammunition and the jackpot, a small bottle of Salts. Uncorking it, Jaune drained it completely, exhaling in relief as he felt the hunger abate. It wasn't enough to full replenish the expended amount, but it did at least reduce the hunger to an ignorable suggestion.

"Ugh, this isn't… this isn't going to follow me back to Vale, is it?" Jaune hefted the empty bottle before tossing it away. He already had enough issues with one drink, he really didn't more on his plate.

"Maybe the rest of the Vigor will help." Jaune muttered. The Possession Vigor still wasn't complete yet, he could feel himself reaching for things that should be there but just weren't. In the meantime, he'd just have to work around the prohibitively expensive Salts cost.

At least the other major drawback of the Vigor was easily dealt with. Live targets came with the express self-checkout option, mechanical ones on the other hand didn't. Judicious application of the skyhook was a viable solution at least, as the permanently offline turret attested to.

"Ah right, the bullshit mind control spell can actually get stronger." Torchwick shook his head and sighed theatrically.

"Call out the firema-" A bullet to the head silenced the retreating cop.

Jaune dashed behind a wall as gunshots continued ringing out, the bullets slamming harmlessly into the brick barrier. Hastily reloading his pistol, Jaune waited for a lull in the shooting before popping out to return fire.

Additional reinforcements had already swarmed in before he had the chance to find away off the damned island and if the shouts were anything to go by, even more were on their way.

"Tch, firemen, what are they going to do? Shoot me with a water gun?" Jaune fired off a possession blast towards a grunt flanking him, forcing the man to turn on his comrades and serve as a useful bullet sponge.

"Oh, he did not just tempt fate like that." Qrow sat straighter.

"I think he did." Summer said.

"I sense imminent suffering coming." Taiyang added.

The streets ran red with blood as Jaune pushed forwards. So far, he'd been facing nothing more than cops way out of their depth, armed with little more than pistols and truncheons. But the reprieve wouldn't last forever, they were already calling in firemen, whatever that meant. Clearly it was an escalation though, and eventually they'd throw the army against him if he stubbornly refused to die.

"Bring us the girl they said, it'll be easy they said. This wasn't in the job description!" He cursed, ramming the skyhook into a man's stomach, eviscerating him. Gun snapping up again in search of the next target, all that intruded on Jaune's ears was the sound of his own laboured breathing.

"That was all of them? Shit, I'm going to be toast at this rate." Jaune lowered his weapon slightly, still on high alert for anyone trying to play possum. But no insane war cry came at him, no sudden surge of gunfire, nothing.

The wind shifted against him, replacing the stench of blood and gunpowder with a hot breeze and a whiff of ashes. Jaune furrowed his brows and sniffed again, definitely something burning, and nearby too.

Approaching a gate barring his way forwards, Jaune shoved against the unpleasantly warm metal, feeling the barricade give under his strength, albeit slowly. Then all of a sudden, the temperature skyrocketed. "It's getting hot, what's going on?"

"Burn in the name of the prophet!"

Jaune's eyes widened and he just barely managed to throw himself to the side before the gate was blasted off its hinges. A wave of red gold flames surged overhead and singed his hair. Jaune cursed and rolled away, desperate to escape the all-consuming heat.

"Oh great…" Jaune scrambled back to his feet and sprinted back the way he came, explosive fireballs flying overhead and detonating against empty shophouses. The fireman was a literal man on fire setting everything ablaze, and despite the situation, Jaune found himself chuckling lightly.

"Ah… fireman." Yang giggled softly.

"No Yang. Bad pun. Bad." Ruby insisted to no avail.

"I must be losing my mind." He shook his head. Now was not the time to appreciate word play, he had to kill the walking inferno or he'd be cooked alive when the entire island burned down. Raising his pistol, he fired two shots, watching sparks flare when the bullets impacted the fireman's metal suit. If it hurt the fireman gave no sign of it, merely continuing to shamble forwards, hurling explosive globules of flaming death while screaming a mix of religious adulation and agonised demands for the heat to abate.

An orb of fire exploded next to Jaune, showering his right arm in droplets of liquid-like supernatural fire and a ragged scream of agony tore its way out of Jaune. Nearly dropping his weapon, Jaune turned and ran, desperately beating the flames out.

Mercifully, the rest of his clothes didn't catch, merely charring and the flames died off without anything to fuel them. Jaune glanced at his wounds and nearly retched, the disgusting stench of burnt flesh helping matters none.

"Ahrgh! Damnit! Damnit!" Jaune continued running, not daring to stop. He was a fool, of course Atlas would have their own Vigor enhanced troops, and given how ridiculously devastating Possession could be, of course the other Vigors would be absolute nightmares too.

Smashing the lock off an emergency locker, Jaune hurled it open and exhaled in relief when he saw the med kit inside. The fireman was still a ways behind him, giving him a few precious seconds to rip the bottle of antiseptic free.

Biting down on a roll of gauze, he popped the cap off and dumped the contents over his burns. "AAHHGHG!" He screamed and bit down hard as his arm burned with the fury of a thousand suns. Spots danced across his vision as he quickly rinsed the wound and wrapped a bandage around it.

It wasn't clean, pretty or a long-term solution, and his old medic friends from the army would probably box his ears for the slipshod work, but it would hold until he could get somewhere safe.

"Everyone runs! Everyone dies! Death is a tribute!" The demented cries of the Vigor amped fireman sent a shiver down Jaune's spine. The monster had already caught up to him.

"Not the best picture of sanity." Ozpin shook his head and sipped from his cup quietly.

"Madmen, they're all mad. The whole city's mad." Ironwood growled, seeing such a perversion of his proud kingdom physically hurt.

"Kragh, I can't shoot like this." He cursed, with his arm alternating between blazing torment and an itchy numbness, holding the pistol was about all he could manage. No chance in hell he'd be able to aim and shoot.

With nowhere to run and no real way to fight back, Jaune's eyes snapped to a small bottle of salts still in the locker. Grabbing it, he chugged it down just as the fireman rounded the corner. Feeling his reserves replenish, he fired a blast of Possession at the same time the fireman hurled a flaming grenade his way.

Jaune threw himself to the floor painfully, vision swimming when he slammed his chin into the unforgiving cobblestone. Fortunately, it was enough, the grenade sailed through where his chest had been a second ago, smashing into a tree instead and immolating it.

The fireman on the other hand, never had a chance to dodge. His suit was too cumbersome and the few steps he took were easily accounted for by the homing capabilities of the Possession wraith. Emerald energies swirled around him, sinking through the wreath of flames and the metal suit to wrest control away.

Immediately Jaune could feel something was different about this target. The possession didn't afford total control unlike the cops, whether it was the Vigor powering him or something else, Jaune didn't know. All he knew was there wasn't any way to compel the fireman to voluntarily shuffle off the mortal coil and the time limit on his control was far shorter.

"Take off… your goddamned… helmet." Jaune spat and staggered to his feet. Shifting his pistol over to his left hand, he shuffled forwards as the fireman struggled to remove the solid steel helm that looked welded down.

"Fine. The hard way it is." Jaune marched right up to the possessed fireman, doing his best to look the manmade demon in the eyes through the featureless helm. Feeling waves of heat wash over him, Jaune glared and shoved his pistol right into a small seam between the helmet and chest plate.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he pulled the trigger repeatedly. The gun kicked against his palm and the pistol's report echoed through the silent plaza. Burning blood splattered everywhere and the fireman dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

With his departure, the supernatural flames extinguished themselves and the oppressive heat vanished. Jaune sucked in another deep breath, ignoring the stench of soot and ash to inspect the twisted corpse. "What in the fuck did they do to you?"

The metal suit was more prison than armour on closer inspection, everything welded or riveted together, it wasn't designed to come off once it was on. And Jaune had the sinking suspicion the suit was less for the protection of the fireman and more to contain the flames within. The heavily charred flesh visible through some of the seams lent credence to the theory.

"Shit, that's messed up." Mercury winced.

"Is this another of those er handyman variants?" Emerald asked.

"Close enough, firemen are reformatted criminals. Those suits are their prisons and the Vigor that powers them their painful penance. They can't escape the heat and their minds have long collapsed by this point. Between the promise of eventual release and the brainwashing, this is the result." Blank answered.

"Yes… religious devotion and the drive to escape pain are excellent motivators too." Cinder murmured, thinking of Tyrian and her own dark past.

"Devil's Kiss…" Jaune trailed off, holding a Vigor bottle that had rolled free from the corpse, almost certainly the Vigor responsible for the fireman's prowess. Jaune held it in hand, debating whether or not to drink it. On the one hand, it's overuse was clearly detrimental, one look at the fireman would tell anyone that, not to mention all the screaming for the pain to stop. But on the other…

"Well. You only live once." Decision made, Jaune drank deep. Coughing and doubling over, the Vigor burned in his stomach, literally. Jaune's vision swam and a terrible heat suffused him, incinerating him from the inside out. Once again he screamed, and his screamed intensified when he looked down at his left hand, flames licked hungrily at his flesh, most of it already consumed until only blackened bone remained.

Then as quickly as it started, the hallucinations faded away and reality re-righted itself, the only lingering effects being a slight warmth in his belly, like he'd just drank a bottle of whiskey. "Ahrgh… whew, that wasn't no sample."

Feeling the new Vigor template form, Jaune exhaled a sigh of relief. Whatever the fireman's deal was, it wasn't normal… as far as the word 'normal' could apply to magic anyways. He wasn't walking around on fire at any rate.

Now, he just needed to find someplace to set down and properly treat his injured arm. Powerful Vigors or not, they didn't make him immortal or any bit more resilient than the average man on the street. The one upside was the streets were clear again, no more cops and no more firemen running about thirsting for his blood.

"At least he didn't say it out loud this time." Qrow said.

"Not being burned is a good thing." Jaune nodded furiously.

Cautiously leaning against the doorway, Jaune's good arm snaked upwards, fingers wrapping around the knocker. Giving it a little push, the door to the Blue Ribbon restaurant creaked open ever so slightly.

Emboldened by the lack of a hostile welcoming, Jaune give another small push and slipped into the silent restaurant, shutting the door behind him. Darting from cover to cover, Jaune spotted no one around save one very drunk and very asleep patron drooling on the bar top.

The cynical bit of him insisted he put a bullet into the man's back, just in case he was faking it. No sense leaving a potential threat alive. It was his own damn fault for sleeping through the mass evacuation.

His more reasonable side scoffed at the idea. He'd been that blackout drunk before, no way was the bugger waking up before noon tomorrow, and by then he'd be long gone. There'd been enough death this day already and if his luck was anything to go by, there'd be more killing to be done later. He was here to retrieve a girl, not water the ground with innocent blood.

Fortunately, reason won out. Stowing his pistol away, Jaune sank into an empty chair, wincing when his injured arm bounced off the armrest. He was hungry, thirsty, tired and in pain, two of those points he could fix now.

When the other patrons had ditched the place along with the staff, they'd left behind plenty of food and drink. Grabbing a half-eaten steak, Jaune tore into it like a starving beast before washing down the meal with a bottle of soda.

"It seems we have company." Qrow's voice coming from right behind Jaune made him sputter and nearly choke on his food. Spinning around, Jaune spotted the man standing behind the bar, casually wiping it down with a rag. "How the-"

"That we do." Raven chimed in, strolling into the room carrying a tray carrying some kind of weird looking flask. For some reason it shimmered and changed colours every other second, making it painful to look at.

"Why are you following me!?" Jaune snapped at them. This was getting ridiculous. First the boat ride in the storm, fine, they were there to provide transport. Then showing up at the fairgrounds, also fine, them that sent him wanted someone to make sure he did his job.

"If they can be anywhere, couldn't they have helped earlier?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah, actually, can't they just teleport Jaune away or bust me out of the tower?" Yang questioned.

"They're not omnipotent, there are limits to what they can do. If they could fix things by themselves, they would have done it already. But their personal efforts haven't led anywhere, that's why they're trying this with Jaune now." Blank said.

"I don't get it, um, that me is… good at killing. But what makes it necessary to be other me to do it?" Jaune asked.

"I mean, that chalkboard with the heads tally, if I didn't succeed all those times, why continue trying this?"

"Because this set of events is the only one that leads to the path where the prophet is no longer a threat. It isn't about that Jaune Arc's skills, it's about one single choice that needs to be made." Blank answered.

Appearing out of the blue in an almost empty restaurant just to annoy him? He didn't even hear them enter. What the hell was going on here?

"We were already here." Raven said.

"Why are you following us?" Qrow added.

"I… haaah…" Jaune sighed explosively. Right, these two had never heard of the concept of 'straight answers'. Arguing with them was an exercise in frustration. Pointedly ignoring them, Jaune went back to scarfing down his first meal in what felt like forever.

"Aperitif?" Raven asked, holding out the tray.

Jaune shot her an incredulous look. Yes, some fancy liquors had real fancy colours to go with, some… more questionable moonshine also had that quality. But there was no way in hell that flask contained any sort of alcohol he knew about.

"You'll find that handy in a pinch." Qrow piped up.

"The difference between life and death." Raven echoed.

"Fine, give it here." Jaune grumbled and snatched the flask off the tray. What the hell, they'd been helpful so far albeit annoying, it was unlikely they'd stop being now. Maybe it was some kind of Vigor and he wasn't saying no to that.

He'd barely finished swallowing when his vision flared red. A spike of pain shot through his entire being before fading away. "Ooh… what was that?"

"Hmm, surprising." Raven raised an eyebrow before stepping aside, allowing Jaune to pass.

"Surprising that it worked?" Qrow asked.

"Surprising that it didn't kill him." Raven said flatly. Her bored completely disinterested expression and near monotonous delivery made Jaune wonder if they'd had this conversation before. He supposed he should he be pissed they gave him something that might have killed him, but he just couldn't muster the anger. All he had for them was weariness.

"But a magnetic repulsive field around one's body can come in handy." Qrow opined.

"A what?" Pyrrha blinked.

"It's a forcefield." Blank said.

"Aura?" Jaune asked.

"No. An actual forcefield." Blank said.

"If it doesn't kill you." Raven shrugged.

"Fair point." Qrow conceded.

Jaune shook his head and sighed again. They were devolving back into another argument and for the sake of his sanity, he decided to make a move first. Even in an extraordinary world with flying cities and magic, they belonged to their own category of weird. Perhaps it was instinct or just common sense, but something warned Jaune to stay away from them, something primal.

No matter. He'd take help when it was offered. Whatever it took to survive the job and get paid. Glancing out the window, he could see gunships flying past, blaring warnings to the populace to be on the lookout for the false prophet. Heaven knew he needed it with the entire city demanding his death.

"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt. Ugh… why can't things ever be easy?"

With that, the screen faded to black and the lights came back on.

"Aww, I wanted to see more." Nora whined.

"Another time perhaps." Blank said.

"I'd prefer if I never have to see that bastardisation of my kingdom again." Ironwood growled and stormed off.

"He's pissed." Qrow stated.

"What happens to the White Fang of that world?" Blake asked, already dreading the answer. If the White Fang were militant in her world, what about a world where the discrimination and abuse had been ramped up to eleven?

"They hide in the shadows and sabotage whatever they can, but they're lacking in the firepower department. They don't have the ability to stand against Atlas's might." Blank replied.

"I sense a but in there." Winter said.

"The situation is a powder keg waiting for the right spark." Blank said.

"Like a false prophet killing his way across the city? Oh yeah, city's gonna burn." Mercury chuckled and made to leave as well.

One by one, the audience filed out until Blank was the only one left. Watching them go, he remained floating in the air for a bit before flickering out of existence.

---

Cast list:

Jaune Arc/Taiyang Xiao Long as Booker DeWitt/Zachary Hale Comstock

Ruby Rose/Yang Xiao Long as Anna DeWitt/Elizabeth Comstock

Qrow and Raven Branwen as Robert and Rosalind Leutece

Jacques Schnee as Jeremiah Fink

The White Fang as The Vox Populi

The Scarlatinas as the interacial couple

---

Not mentioned

Summer Rose as Annabell DeWitt/Lady Comstock

Sienna Khan as Daisy Fitzroy

James Ironwood as Cornelius Slate