Author's Note: Someone actually drew some art based on this story! It was done by my buddy Exvnir, who if you're not familiar with him, and if you're not you should fix that immediately, does a lot of awesome art for RWBY. Go check out his Deviantart page for more great stuff.
There was an odd sense of familiarity in the back of his mind. Yet there was also a sense of apprehension with the unknown that came with it.
Jaune had been here before. He had walked down this same sidewalk with the twins flanking him on either side. He had his mind set on reaching Tukson's bookstore. Back then it was for a simple comic book. Now, however...
His palms were sweaty, and he was certain that it wasn't just because he was wearing his brown leather gloves. For the first time in a long while he was clad in his white breastplate too. Crocea Mors was strapped to his side, making a bold statement to the public about who or what he might be. Armed men and women walking down the streets of Vale were not exactly an uncommon sight. After all, the city was home to Beacon Academy. The only problem was that neither he nor the twins were licensed huntsmen. They weren't even students in training. These days he didn't quite know what he was.
Both girls were armed as well. Melanie's weapons were a bit more concealable than her sister's, with bladed heels hidden behind her tall boots. People's attention would most likely be drawn to those long legs of hers anyway, rather than those boots. Miltia on the other hand wielded a pair of long, curved claws which would steal the focus away from her own attractive body.
The twins were chatting idly as they walked. Or at least Melanie was, since he could hear her voice doing most of the talking. Jaune wasn't particularly focused on whatever it was they were discussing. They seemed oddly calm. Wasn't this a big deal to them? Perhaps it wasn't. After seeing how they had acted the last time visiting Tukson's place maybe this was just another day for them.
They were almost there. Jaune couldn't help but question what he was doing and why he was doing it. This was crazy. He and the Malachite sisters were about to get the information about where a White Fang meeting was taking place. They were about to go and crash the party of a group of known terrorists. His mind screamed that it was a bad idea. Yet another part of his mind told him that he had to do it. Maybe out of some misguided notion of justice. However he knew that it was for more selfish reasons than that. He had to prove to himself that his dream had not been a mistake. That it had not been a waste of time. He could do what he had set his mind to. No matter who told him otherwise.
Jaune felt a nudge from his side, and a moment later realized that Melanie had gently hit him in the ribs with her elbow. "Nervous?" she asked.
He wasn't sure how she knew. Maybe it was his silence. Or maybe he had a certain look on his face. Whatever the case was, she was correct. "Yeah. You're not?"
Melanie blew a puff of air out and rolled her eyes. "So not," she answered coolly. "We do stuff like this like, all the time."
Jaune wanted to say that he wasn't surprised. He really wasn't. However he didn't know how the temperamental girl might take the reaction and so he kept his mouth closed. Instead he merely nodded wordlessly.
It was Miltia who spoke next. "Not really," she insisted. "We don't do it that much."
"Psssh. We do it enough."
"Well, we don't exactly do stuff like this."
Melanie frowned. "Stuff like what? Kick people's asses? We totally do."
"No. I meant it's usually not this bad. Like, terroristy bad."
He supposed that was a good sign. It was one thing to beat people up because they had it coming. That came with the territory working at a nightclub with potential trouble makers. He could even understand that sometimes the twins might have to go out and teach those who were under Junior's thumb a lesson. However, the idea that seeking out trouble from a terrorist group was "normal" for the girls was troubling. He was happy Miltia seemed insistent that this was not the case.
Melanie scoffed at the explanation. "Whatever. We deal with people who get in our way. And these stupid shits are in our way. So it's like, business as usual and stuff."
When she put it like that it seemed relatively simple. They hurt the people who were in their way. Only the people who were normally in their way were not part of a worldwide terrorist organization. In that sense both girls were correct. It still didn't make the reality of the situation any easier for the boy to swallow.
"And neither of you are nervous?" Jaune asked.
Melanie gave him an incredulous look that spoke for her. He was glad that she for some reason decided not to voice her response. He was sure it would have been insulting in nature.
Miltia on the other hand shrugged, looking down at the pavement as she spoke. "I mean, what else are we gonna do?" she asked. "We didn't start this. They did."
Jaune still wasn't sure how much sense it made. The linchpin seemed to be Roman Torchwick. He was involved with both Junior and the White Fang. The man and his botched operation was the cause of Junior's strength being severely depleted. It was seen as a calculated maneuver to weaken the club owner's operation. And while they couldn't prove it, Melanie and Miltia seemed oddly insistent that Roman was behind the mysterious blonde girl who had trashed the club right after he had left. It was too big a coincidence to be otherwise.
"We gotta protect what's ours," Melanie finally said. Her tone seemed darker and more serious than usual. "Vale isn't gonna do it. The fucking huntsmen aren't gonna do it. We have to be out for ourselves. Understand?"
Jaune nodded. However he didn't know why she was so insistent on throwing huntsmen under the bus. It wasn't the first time the girl had voiced her disdain for the profession. Their very job was to protect the people of the kingdom. It was what he had aspired to do for his entire life. It was the very reason he was here right now.
Upon reaching the shop, Jaune peered through the darkened windows to find the interior unlit. It wasn't exactly unusual while there was still sunlight out. However dusk would be fast-approaching, and there really should have been some lights on inside to allow the public to know that the store was open. He supposed it wouldn't matter soon enough.
Tukson would be leaving Vale shortly. Jaune had secured a false passport and identification for the man, just as he had promised. In return Junior would require him to learn how to tend the bar in order to make life easier for the club owner. Jaune had happily agreed to the exchange. It was better than handing over what little lien he still had to his name. Especially because he wasn't being paid for his services at the club.
Jaune reached for the door's handle and pulled only to find it locked. He frowned, and pulled another few times to no avail. It wasn't budging. Clearly the place wasn't open. It was odd, since the sign on the door read "open".
"It's locked," he pointed out, just in case it wasn't made obvious to the girls.
"The fuck," Melanie breathed. She pushed past Jaune to grab the handle herself, pulling a few times. She was met with the same results as him.
"What should we do?"
The girl shook her head, ignoring his question entirely. "He better not have bailed already..." she hissed.
Jaune didn't think he would do so. Tukson was very insistent on getting false identification. To up and leave Vale without it would have allowed him to be tracked using his real name. At least that was what Tukson had felt. The man's fear had been very real. Real enough to attack Melanie. Real enough to resist talking after receiving a beating from the girl.
"Maybe there's a backdoor in the alley?" Miltia suggested.
Melanie nodded, not bothering with anything else as she slipped through the small area between Tukson's building and the one next to it. Jaune followed, avoiding a metal garbage can as he moved to keep up with the apparently angry girl.
The path did lead to an alley, and thankfully there was a backdoor there. It was probably a necessary addition for the building's fire code, and also allowed for easy trash dumping for the many cans and dumpsters that lined the alley.
Much to their chagrin, however, the back door was locked as well. It didn't surprise Jaune, but it didn't help their situation out either. Maybe Tukson was out on a lunch break? Or maybe he was ill and didn't come in. He wanted to think optimistically. The idea of Tukson running off without his new identification was a scary one, considering how fearful he had been a couple weeks ago.
"So what's the plan now?" he asked to neither of the girls in particular.
It didn't take long for Melanie to come up with a solution. "Mil," she said. "Let's break it down."
The other girl nodded, seemingly ready to go along with whatever Melanie had in mind. Kicking the door down could work in theory. All three of them were strong. Their Auras made sure of that. However that could take some time, and also make a lot of noise. Despite being in an alley Jaune didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves.
However kicking didn't seem to be what the girls had in mind as he saw Miltia work a couple simple stretches with her arms. Those cruel claws of hers shone in the dying sunlight, and it soon became clear what she was about to use them for.
A pair of lightning-quick strikes sliced into the doorknob and surrounding area, and they were rewarded with the sound of metal clattering onto the pavement below. With the handle and lock destroyed it wouldn't take much to gain entry into the building. A single kick from Melanie finished the job, and the door swung open to reveal another darkened room.
"Problem solved," Melanie said happily as she stepped through the entrance. "And it's not like he's gonna care if he's leaving Vale today, right?"
Jaune had to agree with her on that. It wasn't the most elegant solution, but it had been effective.
He heard a pair of disgusted groans, and soon enough found out why. When Jaune stepped into the bookstore himself he was met with a wave of something vile assaulting his nose. It was a sharp and pungent odor the likes of which he had never before experienced, and there was nothing he could think of to compare it to. All he knew was that he could not blame the twins for their own vocal reactions.
"What is that?" Melanie asked.
"I dunno," Miltia replied. "Find a light?"
That would be necessary. Despite the limited sunlight which crept through the doorway, the room itself was still fairly dark. It had no windows, and only the sliver directly in front of the door was being touched by the setting sun's rays. However soon enough a new light illuminated at least a small portion of the room.
"Use the flashlights on your scrolls," Miltia said. "At least until we find the- fucking shit!"
Jaune jumped slightly at those shrieked words. He had never heard Miltia so vocal, nor terrified, in the time he had known her. Curse words also sounded foreign coming from her tongue. That was Melanie's territory. Then again, how much did he truly know about either of the girls?
He turned to where Miltia was, the light from his own scroll lighting the girl up to reveal a look of horror on her wide green eyes. Her back was pressed up against a wall as she stared at something in front of her. He set his own light on the target of her fixation.
His blood ran cold.
There sitting on a chair at a desk, was Tukson. At least what remained of him.
"Fuck..." he whispered himself.
By this time Melanie had found the light switch and turned it on to reveal the man in all of his glory. Slumped onto the chair was the body of the shop owner and terrorist. His head tilted off to the side, amber eyes open and lifeless staring off into nothingness.
"Oh fuck," Melanie said, completing a trio of curses in reaction to the sight of the man.
"He's dead," Miltia said softly. "He's fucking dead."
The body certainly explained the smell. It also explained the darkness in the front of the store and the locked doors. Jaune knew this wasn't death by natural causes either. Nothing about this seemed right. Someone had killed Tukson. Just as the man had predicted.
A chill ran down his spine.
Despite the horror of it all he couldn't take his eyes off of the dead man. A closer look revealed red lines around Tukson's throat. Not cuts, however. It looked more like bruising. It was fading as the man's body had begun to pale, but they were still prevalent nonetheless. Jaune was no crime scene investigator, but even he could tell the man had been strangled. Probably to death.
Jaune felt in his gut that Tukson had been killed by the White Fang. It was the only thing which made sense. He had seen enough movies to know when life was imitating art. Tukson had been a snitch. He had been a flight risk. He had conspired with outsiders to give up the location of their meeting. Somehow the White Fang had found out. They knew he was going to leave. It turned out that Tukson had every right to be afraid.
Now he was dead. All because they had made him talk.
Because he had made Tukson talk.
"This is my fault," he whispered.
Jaune hadn't even heard someone approach before he felt a hand on his shoulder. A look to his left revealed Miltia's concerned eyes. "No, Jaune," she said softly. "Don't even go there. This isn't your fault. We were all here. We all did this."
"I told him I'd help protect him," Jaune argued. "He only talked because I made him."
"You didn't make him do anything," Miltia countered. "Me and Melanie were going to make him talk. You..." she looked off to the side briefly. "You were trying to help him."
The blonde shook his head lightly. "And look where it got us. Look where it got him. Maybe if I hadn't gotten him to talk he'd still be alive. Maybe he's only dead now because he did talk to me."
A louder, more forceful voice came from his right. "No, fuck that shit!" Melanie said angrily. A look at her face showed that she was still visibly shaken by the sight herself, despite the aggressive tone which she had taken. "He's dead because he joined the White Fang. Don't try to pin this on us."
On some level Jaune knew that she was right. Tukson was, in the eyes of the law, a terrorist. If one lived by the sword then he should expect to die by the sword. Tukson had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it. Soon enough that bed would be a coffin.
Still, Jaune could not help but think about his role in it all. "I said I'd help him. I gave him my word."
It wasn't simply about the Arc family motto either. It was the feeling of powerlessness. All he had wanted was to help one man. If he couldn't even help a single faunus trying to undo a terrible mistake he had made, what good was he? What kind of a huntsman would he have been?
"I know you did," Miltia said soothingly. Her hand was still present on him. Even its warm and comforting presence did nothing to alleviate the guilt he felt right now. "But... I... I don't know, Jaune."
Mmmmmiltia!
Melanie's drunken words flashed in Jaune's memory. His body flinched reactively at the feel of Miltia's hand upon him. Stupid Melanie. Even right now her teasing was affecting him.
The girl in red looked up at him worryingly. "Jaune?"
He closed his eyes and sighed softly. "Don't worry. Just... dead body and all that."
It was a lie. However right now it was much more convenient than the truth.
"You can't save everyone," Melanie said, stepping in to speak when her sister couldn't produce the words she had been searching for. "People die. Sometimes there's a reason and sometimes there's not. What-fucking-ever."
Her attitude was colder and crueler than he was used to. There was no playful or flirtatious Melanie right now. She seemed to be all business. The kind of girl who wouldn't hesitate to put another body in the ground right now if she felt it was necessary.
"What should we do?" he asked. "Do we call the police or something?"
"Oh yeah that'll go over well." Melanie's tone shifted to a mock baritone with her next words. "Hey we just totally broke into this guy's store because he's a secret White Fang terrorist and we wanna know where the next meeting is."
Well obviously he wasn't about the say something like that. However he knew in his heart that they shouldn't simply leave the man to rot in the back of his store either. Terrorist or not, Tukson was still a person. He may have made mistakes in his life, one of which was an incredibly stupid mistake, but he had at least tried to make up for it.
That was perhaps one of the most upsetting things about all of this.
Tukson, despite his flaws, was trying to seek redemption by leaving the White Fang. He was trying to move on with his life. He had been trying to help out the local community with his bookstore. He had goodness in him. He had light inside of him. Now, however, that light had been snuffed out forever. All because of one stupid decision.
All because of the White Fang.
His fists clenched at the thought. What if someone at Beacon had decided to end his own life for forging those transcripts? What if Jaune's one stupid decision had cost him his life? It wouldn't have been fair. It wasn't fair for Tukson either. He hadn't deserved to die because of his mistake.
He ran a gloved hand through his hair, clenching down on blonde locks as it remained on the top of his head. "What should we do then?"
"I don't know," the white-clad girl said. Her agitation seemed to indicate that she didn't know either. "But we need to at least get what we came here for."
"How? He's dead. Can't exactly tell us where the meeting it."
"He said the White Fang texted the location or whatever, right?"
Jaune recalled the man saying something about that. How members would receive a message on their scrolls a couple hours before the meeting would take place.
"Right," he agreed.
"So..." Melanie began as she motioned toward the man with her head. "Go get his scroll."
Jaune paled at the words. He couldn't. He couldn't go searching a dead body. There were so many things wrong with that he couldn't even begin to list them.
"What?" he protested. "Why me?"
"Because I'm not touching a dead fucking body!"
"Oh but I should?"
Melanie pointed down to his arms rested at his side. "You're the one wearing gloves!"
Jaune brought his hands up to chest-level to see for himself as well as to show Melanie. "They're fingerless though. I might as well not be wearing any at all."
"Well then what the fuck's the point of them?" she snarled. "Either way I'm not touching him. You do it."
In that moment he realized that Melanie had a point. What was the point of his fingerless leather gloves? They weren't practical for fighting. Nor were they good for handling rough or sharp objects. He just thought they looked cool.
A glance over to the quiet Miltia showed that she apparently had no intention of searching for his scroll either. She had no intention of getting involved in the argument period. Jaune knew that once Melanie made a decision she wouldn't go back on it. If he wanted to find Tukson's scroll, if he wanted to learn of the location of the White Fang's meeting, he would need to be the one to do it.
Perhaps he owed it to the man. Perhaps he owed Tukson the justice that would come with crashing the meeting.
"Fine," he said, taking a deep breath as he set his eyes upon the corpse once more.
Jaune had no idea how long Tukson had been dead. He had never seen a dead body before. He knew that in time bodies would begin to decompose, and was thankful that Tukson had not started to do so yet. Still, he didn't want to poke and prod around too much. It was more than just limiting his contact with the dead man. It was about respect. He didn't want to feel like some sort of grave robber seeking prizes from those who could no longer enjoy them.
Unhooking Crocea Mors' scabbard from his waist, Jaune used its tip to press up against Tukson's pockets where a scroll might be contained. His first poke was met with the simple squishy resistance of flesh. He felt like he wanted to vomit.
Moving around to the other side of the chair he repeated the process again and was this time met with something hard. "I think this is it," he announced to the girls.
Neither said a thing, probably expecting him to get on with it so that they could all leave as soon as possible. He didn't blame them for that. He wanted to leave as well.
Jaune swallowed and took another deep breath. Using only a thumb and an index finger he carefully reached into the man's right pocket, driving deeper until he met the hard material which his scabbard had felt. Getting a tight grip on it he fished it out, and was thankful when it was revealed to be the compacted white form of a scroll.
He quickly took a few steps back away from the body as soon as he had secured his prize. Looking down at the scroll he thought about how whatever was on here is what had cost Tukson his life.
"Here," Melanie said, breaking Jaune's concentration as she approached him. Her hand was extended, expecting to be handed the scroll.
Jaune complied. If she wanted to take the lead from here on out that would be fine by him.
Melanie opened up the scroll, which soon enough came to life with the light of activity. "Fucking amateurs," she whispered as she began to work the buttons on the screen.
Miltia walked over to stand beside her sister to get a better look at what was on the scroll. Neither said a thing, nor did Melanie explain what she had meant by her words.
"What do you mean?" Jaune asked.
"Whoever killed Tukson should have taken this," she explained as she waved the scroll in the air. "But the White Fang are a bunch of crazy weirdos and amateurs. A bunch of civilians who don't know any better."
Jaune thought about what Melanie meant by civilians. He thought about how she and Miltia were not. The White Fang were for the most part normal everyday people who had been brainwashed or deluded into thinking that they were fighting for a just cause. They weren't real soldiers. They weren't professional in any way. The twins on the other hand... they had been working for Junior for years. Fighting, intimidation, blackmail... they were experienced and skilled in those sorts of things.
He nodded, not wanting to comment on that thought. He only wanted to know if the scroll would help them. "Did he get the message?"
Melanie nodded. "Yeah. He got it. And that means we have the location."
Jaune was trembling slightly, and for more than one reason. He was scared. Even if he wanted to deny that fact, his body betrayed him. He had just gotten his first real and up-close experience with death. Now they were about to go and confront the people who had done the deed. Potentially the very individuals who had taken Tukson's life.
There was another sensation, however. One which he was surprised to be feeling right now. There was anger. There was hate.
Jaune hated the White Fang for what they had done. Tukson had not been a bad person. At least not from what he had seen. Now the man was dead. Killed by those monsters in the White Fang. How many more people would they kill? How many more good people would die trying to correct their own mistakes? How many innocents who had nothing to do with the faunus plight would die in the crossfire?
He glanced over to Tukson one more time and stared into those empty eyes. He may not have been able to help Tukson, but he could still avenge him. He could give the man justice.
Huntsmen were forces of justice, were they not? They were protectors of the innocent. They shielded humanity from threats, be they Grimm or man. After today Jaune realized just how much of a threat the White Fang were. He realized how much of a blight upon civilization they were. Who were they to decide who was at fault for the problems in the world? Who were they to decide who lived or died?
The corpse that stared him in the eyes spoke louder than any words could. The corpse made more of an impact upon Jaune's mind than any news report or article ever could. It was one thing to read a story about the White Fang or hear about it on TV. It was quite another to be in the same room as one of their victims.
"How could someone do this?" he thought aloud. "How can these monsters live with themselves?" He was almost happy that he received no reply. While the twins weren't exactly innocent charity workers themselves, they had never done something like this. At least he had never seen them go this far. At least he knew that they had other sides to them. They would always be above the White Fang in his eyes.
How was it that people could be so cruel? In a world where Grimm were a threat to humanity's very existence, why were people still killing one another? Why was there racism? Why was there extremism? There was enough misery and death already. There didn't need to be any more from those psychopaths.
A huntsman would fight this. A huntsman would protect humanity from the terrorists who sought to create misery and suffering. A huntsman would administer justice upon them, and tonight Jaune was determined to rain fiery retribution down upon the White Fang. Tonight Tukson would have his justice.
Night had fallen upon Vale by the time they reached the address from Tukson's phone. She wouldn't have had it any other way.
Melanie was dressed to the nines in her favorite white and teal attire. Her boa was fit snugly around her neck, and the blades on the back of her boots were freshly sharpened. It may as well have just been another night clubbing for her. She had her usual partner in crime at her side ready to have a little bit of fun with her. However this time they had decided to make things a three-way.
She smiled to herself. She might have to remember that way of describing it just to make the boy squirm. He often did at the mention of one of her double entendres.
A glance over to Jaune showed him staring over at the warehouse which was their target. His eyes seemed different than before. They seemed harder. More focused. Maybe he was running on pure adrenaline right now, being so close to the impending fight. She couldn't imagine that he had ever swung his sword in anger before. Tonight both of them would get to see what he was made of.
Miltia on the other hand looked as passive as ever. She was used to this sort of thing, despite her earlier protests. To both sisters this was simply part of what their job entailed. However what the girl had said earlier was correct. Usually their targets were uppity business owners or other gangs. Not full-fledged terrorists.
Either way, they were still made of flesh and bone. They would fall as easily as the rest. The only difference was that these fanatics would have no regrets when they did.
A look at her scroll showed that it was almost time to go. The party wouldn't start until she walked in. When she did, the White Fang would get an ass-kicking the likes of which they'd never forget. They'd never want to screw with Junior again after tonight.
"Isn't this exciting?" she asked Jaune. She didn't bother with Miltia, already knowing what her answer would be.
"Exciting?" he answered. "Not exactly the word I'd use to describe it."
"Aw, where's your sense of adventure?"
He grunted. Perhaps he was spending a little too much time around Junior lately. "Yeah that died when I got kicked out of Beacon. I'm really hoping that I won't die for real here tonight."
"Don't be scared, my little huntsman," she cooed. She moved over next to Jaune, leaning exaggeratedly against him as if he were a pillar, and having to strain to casually lay her forearm atop his shoulder. "How're you feeling? Still nervous?"
Jaune looked down at her as he spoke. "Yeah. How could I not be?"
He was tall. Annoyingly tall. She didn't like having to look up at him like that. She didn't like being looked down upon. Despite being stronger than him it almost made her feel as if he actually did have some sort of power or control over her through his height. Through sheer presence alone.
She smiled, ignoring the stupid feeling in the back of her mind and returning to reality. "Well don't worry about it, boy toy. You stick with me and I won't let them lay a finger on that pretty little blonde head of yours. 'Kay?"
The boy frowned, but nodded wordlessly.
"Good. I'd hate you to get hurt when you lose your V card tonight."
Jaune's eyes widened in response. Even Miltia sent a questioning look her way.
Melanie giggled, poking Jaune in the arm gently. "You're so easy," she smiled. He really was just too fun to screw with. "V for violence. Though if you really wanna..." she trailed off deliberately.
"Can we maybe not joke around at a time like this?" he asked.
And a total buzzkill at other times. She needed to get him drunk again. That had been fun. To be in complete and total control over him at that time had been great. She had vague memories of sharing drinks with him a few days ago, but the details were all too hazy. She wondered what had gone down that night and how much he had to drink.
The girl sighed. Maybe she would have to be a little responsible right now. This was his first time, after all. He needed someone experienced like her to help him get through the night.
She reached up, grabbing his head in both hands and bringing it down closer to her level. Her forehead pressed against his, their eyes locked in this uncomfortably close position. "Don't hold anything back tonight, okay?"
"Melanie, what-"
"Shh," she silenced him. "Listen to me. These people are crazies. They're killers. If you hold back you're going to die. Got it? We wouldn't want you to end up like Tukson now would we?"
She heard his jaw clench at the mention of the man's name. Clearly it had affected him negatively. Perhaps even more so than herself.
Melanie had seen her fair share of death in her young life. None while working for Junior. However back when she was young, back when Mountain Glenn fell, there had been death. More than she and her sister could have ever dreamed of. While she wasn't numb to the experience, seeing Tukson had not been the first time she had laid eyes upon a corpse.
It took a moment, but Jaune responded. "I won't hold back," he whispered. "Not when I've seen what they do."
There was a certain edge in the boy's voice. He was taking this seriously. That was a good thing. The boy who had been tricked into showing her mercy on the sparring mats would not survive this. He needed to be more than that. He needed to be like her and Miltia.
"Good."
Speaking of Miltia, Melanie looked over in her direction after releasing Jaune's face. A glance at the girl showed no signs of jealousy or anger at the fact that she had just been so close to the boy's face. However Melanie knew that her sister had a thing for him. Even if the younger girl wouldn't admit it to herself just yet.
"You two ready?"
Both Jaune and Miltia nodded.
They were as ready as they'd ever be. It was nine o'clock, and the meeting would just be getting underway. There was no better time to crash it than now.
"Let's go."
Without another word Melanie took the lead, Miltia on her right and Jaune on her left. The formation was reminiscent of the flying pattern which certain birds used. It was almost fitting in a way.
Miltia's little baby bird was about to leave the nest for the first time, and she would be there to witness it. It was thrilling. Tonight he would spread his wings and attempt to fly. Would he soar, or would he crash back down to earth?
The warehouse was a filthy, run-down, and abandoned looking place from the outside. The perfect hideout for the kind of scum who would be inhabiting it tonight. She wondered if the interior would be any better. She had her doubts, considering that it was probably only a temporary safe house. It would serve its purpose and then be left to whoever decided to use it next.
The doors were in sight when they saw the first of their opposition. A masked man clad in black and white stood at the door, a rifle held in both hands. He did not raise the weapon, but he was aware of their presence as they marched toward the warehouse entrance.
"If you're here for the meeting you're late," he called out as they approached. "You can get yourselves masks once you're-"
He never finished his sentence as Melanie thrust a forearm against his throat, driving him into the warehouse wall. His weapon clattered to the ground, and he used his free hands to try and push the offending appendage off his throat. It was to no avail, and a moment later Melanie slammed an open palm into his forehead.
The guard's head slumped forward, and she let him collapse down onto the concrete ground in a crumpled heap.
Melanie turned back, looking at Jaune with gleaming emerald eyes. "Totally just an appetizer for the main course," she smirked. "Get ready."
Without waiting for his response she pushed opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a dimly lit and dreary looking place. It suited those who were in attendance. Ahead of her Melanie could see the backs of what looked to be several dozen individuals. Most of them wore plain civilian clothes with no uniformity to them. These were clearly the new recruits which Tukson had mentioned. A smaller portion of the people wore the same black and white garb that the guard outside had. Some appeared to have weapons secured to their backs while others wore smaller side arms at their waists. In either case simple firearms shouldn't prove to be too much trouble.
The trio strutted deeper into the warehouse, an unmistakable swagger in Melanie's steps as her head turned back and forth to take everything in. Those who dared to meet the death glares she sent their way quickly averted their gazes rather than risk being the target of the dangerous girl's attention. The faunus around them parted like the sea before the prow of a ship. It was an intoxicating feeling. To intimidate those around her, to have control over their actions, it was like a drug. And Melanie needed her fix.
Ahead of them was a raised platform acting as a stage of sorts where a few of the White Fang members currently stood. One of them was speaking on a microphone in front of a large, hand-made banner with the organization's logo painted on it. All around her she began to hear people speak in hushed whispers as she passed them. She enjoyed the attention being heaped upon her.
"Why aren't they wearing masks too?" she heard one of them say.
"Are they even faunus?"
"Why are there humans here?"
"Is this a sting?"
She smirked at the last question. It was in a way. Only she wasn't the police. However that little detail would do nothing to stop her from breaking up this little meeting.
As she neared the stage she got a good look at the man who was speaking. At first glance he didn't appear to be anything special. He wasn't particularly tall, nor bulky. He just wasn't intimidating to begin with. She wondered if he was just another one of the civilian-soldiers who had been recruited to the terrorist cause, and this one simply had a talent for speaking to large crowds. It wouldn't surprise her with this hodgepodge operation.
His speech slowed to a halt as he saw her and her cohorts ascend the few small steps to the stage. With his attention focused squarely on her now, he spoke. "I'm sorry, miss. But this stage is for-"
"Shut up," Melanie snapped, prompting the man to obey. He began to look around, and a few of his comrades moved over to stand by his side. "Who, the fuck, is in charge around here?"
The man looked to his sides, as if to be sure that his backup was there and ready to act at a moment's notice. "I am," he said, jabbing his chest with a thumb. "Now what do you want?"
What did she want? Power. Wealth. Control. Alcohol. However, this man would be unable to provide her any of these things. She would have to settle for a consolation prize on this evening.
"Two things," she said as she held up a pair of fingers. "One, I want to give you a message from Junior. Vale is his turf. Stay the fuck out of his business."
The terrorist looked around once more. Even with his eyes hidden behind a mask she could tell that he was confused. He was probably just some lower level figure in the organization with no real power. Even so, he and the rest would be able to deliver that message to his superiors.
"Who are-" he started, but was cut off once more.
"And two," she continued, her voice dominating his own. She turned to address the crowd, mainly the plainclothes civilian portion of it. "I want you to run."
Before the man could even begin to voice his confusion on her second request, he was struck with a vicious kick to the side of his head courtesy of Melanie's bladed boot. He collapsed to the ground unceremoniously, out cold from the sudden blow.
That was when it started. The screams of terror and panic were like music to Melanie's ears.
All around the stage the gathered civilians began to push and shove against one another as they attempted to flee to wherever the nearest exit was. If they weren't careful some might fall and be caught in a human stampede. Melanie wasn't sure how many of the new recruits had Aura. If she had to guess she would assume it was only a very small portion. Things could go south very quickly if the White Fang members with guns decided to open fire.
With that thought in the back of her mind she raced to close the gap with the nearest of the armed terrorists.
Jaune wished that he could say he was surprised by Melanie's provocative attitude. He wished he could say he was surprised by her seizing the initiative and delivering the first blow. Sadly he was not. That was why he had been ready.
The sound of rasping steel filled the air as he ripped Crocea Mors from its sheath and deployed his shield. There were men here with guns, and the heater shield would prove to be an invaluable asset against them. This was especially true since the twins were both unarmored and had no real defense against projectiles. While he had no doubt that their Auras would be able to protect them from the worst of it, he still did not want to take any chances. He did not want to have another corpse on his hands by the end of the evening.
There was chaos all around him as the civilians who Melanie had told to run wasted no time in doing so. Bodies had scattered in all directions, many heading back the way that Jaune and the girls had come through. He wondered if that was the only door in the warehouse. If it was then there could be a lot more harm done tonight besides what he and the Malachites were about to do.
Wasting little time Jaune charged at the nearest of the White Fang members, a man of average height who was still fiddling with the rifle which had only seconds ago been strapped across his back. With his shield raised up the blonde slammed into the man's torso, using his size and momentum to press the terrorist up against the warehouse wall. At this close distance and locked in this position Jaune had little room to wield his sword, and instead opted to hammer his foe with the fist which still clenched Crocea Mors. Three times did he strike the man in the nose, and three times did he elicit cries of pain. The third strike produced a satisfying crunch and a spew of blood from the ruined nose.
Jaune took a step back, taking in the sight of the moaning man clutching his face as red liquid leaked from between and underneath his fingers. The boy's breathing was heavy and ragged, and for a brief moment he felt twisted regret over what he had just done. Then he remembered Tukson's eyes. He remembered the blank stare of the man who had been murdered by these people. By these animals.
If you hold back you're going to die.
Melanie's words were fresh in his mind. He refused to die here tonight. Not when he had so much to live for. His parents. His sisters. Even the pair of friends he had made at Beacon. Whether he regretted being here at this moment or not was a moot point. He was here, and there was no turning back. At this point he had to keep fighting or he would die. There was no stronger motivator in the world.
"Jaune!"
He was broken from his stupor by a feminine voice, and he spun to see which of the sisters it was. However before he could he saw one of the White Fang members leveling his firearm and taking aim at him. Jaune instinctively hunched over and raised his shield.
The impact of the bullets upon his steel shield sent vibrations down his arm. In this position he was able to protect both his head and the majority of his torso. Seconds seemed to last an eternity as a hail of projectiles continued to rain down upon him. The sound was impossibly loud, amplified by being in an enclosed building. Soon enough the firing stopped, and Jaune peered over the top edge of the protective device to view his foe.
The masked faunus' mouth twisted in anger as he looked at the now spent pistol and tossed it angrily to the floor. As he began to pull some basic looking cudgel-like weapon from his belt Jaune knew that this was the time he had to strike.
Running forward with a snarl on his lips, Jaune brought Crocea Mors down in a long arc upon the torso of the man who had fully intended to kill him only moments ago. There was no doubt or regret now, only the primal reaction to the attempted murder he had just survived. The feel of his blade connecting with the terrorist's torso was a satisfying one. A crackling flash of Aura covered the White Fang member's body, indicating to Jaune that the strike had depleted it in a single hit. The man dropped his weapon as he staggered back in pain, and was quickly driven to the ground as Jaune swung the edge of his shield at his face. While it was unsharpened and non-fatal, the blunt force against the man's skin was more than enough to burst flesh and create a huge gash on his right cheek and jaw. A few teeth fell to the ground along with the man who was now out of the fight.
What had he been thinking? In a closed space like this with so many non-combatants around, using a firearm could have been disastrous. Had it been one of the fully automatic rifles which some of the other terrorists carried it could have been a bloodbath. It was all the more reason to hate these monsters. They had no regard for the lives of others, only their own twisted and perverted ideals. These were terrorists. They were bad people. What he was doing here was right. It was just.
Jaune's head was on a swivel and his eyes darted back and forth, looking for the next opponent to engage. It appeared that most of the civilians had escaped by this point, and the only ones who remained were the twins and the terrorists who were still in the fight.
Squeezing the leather handle of Crocea Mors, he rushed off towards the nearest foe.
The White Fang member in front of her had held his rifle up with both hands in an attempt to block her strike. To his surprise and horror her bladed heel had gone straight through the gun's stock and broke it in two.
Melanie wasted no time as she spun on a heel and delivered another savage kick to the man's gut. He doubled over in pain as he clutched his stomach, presenting a target too tempting and juicy for her to pass up. With his exposed head practically screaming to be hit, the girl happily obliged and used a rare fist to hammer the top of his skull.
It had been too long since she had gotten a release like this. Had it been the Blood Axe Gang? The Amethyst Family? She couldn't recall. In any case she needed this. To revel in her superiority over these pathetic nobodies. To remind herself that she was strong. To have no doubts that she was not the same scared and weak girl who had only survived Mountain Glenn because someone had been there to save her.
The image of a blonde girl flashed in her mind. The memory of Jaune coming in to help her followed shortly after. Her fists squeezed closed angrily.
She screamed in anger as she rushed forward to where Miltia was currently engaged with a knife-wielding foe of her own. She had no doubt that her sister would dispatch him with ease, but she didn't care. Right now Melanie just wanted to hit something. She wanted to hurt someone. This unfortunate man just happened to be the closest person to her.
Leaping in the air when she was close, she sent a powerful boot into his exposed side, sending him tumbling away on the ground in a manner reminiscent of a charging Boarbatusk.
Miltia turned to look at her, unsurprised by her presence but still somewhat annoyed. "Having fun?" she asked sarcastically.
Melanie flicked a few errant strands of hair from her face. She grinned at her sister's question. "Duh. I haven't had this much fun in weeks."
Her twin suddenly turned, the girl's head scanning the area quickly. "Where's Jaune?"
The elder twin joined in the search herself, and it didn't take long to find the answer. Over in the distance probably around twenty feet away from them they found the blonde boy currently engaged in a melee of his own against an axe-wielding member of the White Fang. The details of what she saw surprised her.
The pure and clean white of his armor and shield was stained with specks and sprays of red. There was only one explanation to where it had come from and how it had happened.
Melanie's tongue ran over her lips as she saw him fight.
Jaune raised his shield up to block the downward swing of the terrorist's axe, a blow which could have cleaved a civilian's arm from his torso. In response Jaune pushed the man's weapon arm aside before delivering a thrust of his own with the tip of his sword. The White Fang member staggered back, clearly in pain, but his Aura having absorbed the worst of the blow.
Pressing his advantage she saw how Jaune did not hesitate to follow up on his attack, lashing out with a boot of his own and catching the terrorist in the stomach. Much like Melanie's own opponent from before, the man doubled over from the kick to his midsection, and Jaune delivered his own finishing blow as he drove the pommel of his sword down upon the back of his skull. The terrorist collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes and did not stir afterward.
Jaune had clearly taken her words to heart. He wasn't holding back. He wasn't showing mercy. He was fighting for his very life. There was a desperate savagery in his attacks. No quarter was being asked, and none was being given. The innocent baby bird which had left the nest had become a fearsome raptor.
It was kind of hot.
"Look at our little huntsman go," Melanie said proudly. "Maybe he'll be okay after all."
Miltia said nothing as she stalked away toward one of the few opponents still standing. Melanie could tell that she was not too happy at the moment. She didn't even need to see the look on her twin's face to realize as much. The maelstrom of different emotions raging inside of her told the whole story.
Claws flashed as one of the last White Fang members was cut down. He had fallen easily just as the rest had. These were not soldiers. They weren't even up to par with the gang members she and her sister tangled with. At least those people had some sort of combat skill which had been forged while fighting on the mean streets of Vale. These people on the other hand... they were simply civilian thugs who had been handed uniforms and weapons. They were shop owners. They were restaurant employees. They were postal workers. Regular, ordinary people who had no training or experience in fighting. It was pathetic. It was infuriating.
Miltia shook her head, not wanting Melanie's own combat lust to start to adversely affect her. She had to keep a level head. Someone had to watch over her sister who would often get caught up in the moment and lose herself in the action. Someone had to watch over the boy who was fighting for his life for the first time. The boy who was adapting a little too well to this sort of life.
She took a deep breath, and was surprised when she was able to hear herself exhale. Looking around her Miltia realized that the sounds of combat had died down completely, and only the cries and moans from the defeated but still conscious White Fang members filled the room. Broken and twisted bodies lay strewn across the warehouse, and in places there were splashes of blood from the wounds inflicted upon them by the trio of teens.
Her head moved back and forth as she stalked the floor, making sure that none of the faunus fighters were trying to make a move for their weapons in some misguided notion of putting up further resistance. It did not appear that any of them wanted to take further action against them. She was happy for that. Despite the fact that this fight was necessary, Miltia did not revel in the thought of hurting others. At least she didn't when her emotions were all her own.
Speaking of Melanie, she saw her twin approach Jaune, who like herself was looking around to make sure that there were no further threats. The boy was sweaty, breathing heavily, and was in desperate need of a shower to scrub the blood from his face and hair. His clothes and armor would need a thorough cleaning as well. The sight of him was horrifying and unlike anything she had seen of him before. He looked as though he had just emerged from a hands-on tour at a slaughterhouse.
Melanie was little better, her own dress stained red in certain places. It was simply part of the job, and was not the first time she had seen her sister in such a state. Luckily for Miltia her own dress hid the stains well, however she had little doubt that her own attire was wet from liquids other than her own sweat. Both would need special treatments when they were washed later tonight.
As she approached the other two, Miltia saw her sister sidle up next to Jaune before nudging him with an elbow. "You did good," she complimented him genuinely.
Jaune did not smile as he accepted the compliment. He merely nodded wordlessly.
Melanie pressed forward, probably wanting to elicit some sort of positive reaction from the boy. "Come on, wasn't that fun? Don't tell me you didn't have fun. I totally saw how you took out one of those losers. You loved it, didn't you?"
He shook his head lightly before speaking. "I don't know," he answered softly. "I wasn't thinking a lot during it all. But when I was..."
The elder twin nudged him again. Melanie had a habit of being very handsy with those she was comfortable around. "What's up?"
The blonde shook his head again and bit down on his lip. His apprehension was clear for Miltia to see. "I fucking hated them. For what they did to Tukson. I guess... I wanted to hurt them."
Miltia frowned. Jaune didn't normally say things like that. He didn't normally feel things like that. It was obvious that Tukson's death was hitting him hard, but was that the only thing which had affected his attitude?
It had been blatantly obvious earlier that Melanie approved of Jaune's actions. She had once said that he needed to learn to live in their world to survive. She had once argued that him remaining innocent would result in his death. If her sister saw something appealing in him, if she was showing her approval of his actions, those were red flags in and of themselves.
Miltia didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.
Author's Note: So I suppose this is like Jaune's version of Anakin slaughtering the Tusken Raiders, only with no death and no emo whining afterward. I really need to stop comparing my story to the prequels. It's not flattering at all.
So Tukson is dead. Not a huge stretch considering he died in canon. However rather than Emerald and Mercury doing it, it was Roman and/or the White Fang. Keep in mind that Roman was originally going to be the one to take care of Tukson before Emerald and Mercury stepped in, so I don't think it's out of the question for him to give the order here.
Speaking of Roman, the meeting that they crashed tonight was not the same one as the one in Painting the Town in V2. So no Roman, no Neo, no Banesaw, no Paladins... yet.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Questions, comments or concerns? Let me know what you thought.
Thanks for reading.